#and i am impressed best image ever

[empty-movement]

Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know? 

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print. 

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive! 

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.) 

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Pac-Man

Debut: a box

We all know Pac-Man in the game. You know Pac-Man in the game. I do not need to explain what he looks like to you, and I am so confident in your knowledge that I simply will not. You know that guy.

Now let's instead look at and talk about Hiro Kimura's interpretation of him as depicted on the Atari 400/800 box art! Let's make this our default vision of the character!

This is Pac-Man. Pac-Man is a striking yellow humanoid with a massive, spherical head, no nose, and a set of rodent-like upper incisors. He's wearing a tank top with his in-game design on it, sneakers with high socks, and, best of all, jorts!

This design DOES register enough as a Pac-Man to me, but aside from how goofy he already is, I can't help but think of him as a Stanley S. SquarePants-style cousin to the original Pac-Man. It's almost uncanny how similar the duos are!

Now, an issue I have with many Ms. Pac-Man designs is that, unlike her husband, she is often given a tiny mouth, not a mouth befitting a woman who eats for a living. How is this Pac-fella's mouth? A bit small, but not as small as the bites he's taking out of those floating plastic discs! I guess it's as much as he can get with that narrow set of teeth.

But geez, reaching for another when he's barely made any progress in the first? I hope he doesn't choke! Since this is a still image, I will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he is able to chew through these discs like a woodchipper, and we just happen to see the frozen moment where only the first bite was taken. He can turn these macroplastics into microplastics like nobody's business!

And I guess he's in some kind of castle labyrinth, and the ghosts are trying to eat him, specifically. They think he looks Yummy, and I will have to take their word for it. I would not eat this guy, OR his plastic discs! However, there is a reason I am glossing over these ghosts. They're nothing in comparison to... the others.

Yowza in the howza! My word, and then my entire sentence! The ghosts on the unused Atari 2600 cover art (also by Hiro Kimura) are certainly the most viscerally frightening things any Pac has ever had to contend with. It's quite impressive, really! I can see why this art would be replaced, since it is frankly not an accurate representation of the game itself, but dang am I happy just to look at it. The Pacmeister here is very similar to the previous one, but this time, clad in perfect, stainless chrome, for some reason! I'd want to eat this version even less than the previous one.

What I WOULD like to eat, though, are those rectangular prisms he's munching. To me, those are delectable baked lemon bars. I'm also realizing that there's a frog hopping away from the chaos in the bottom right! Strange... perhaps a cheeky Frogger reference? Like, get outta here, Frogger, Pac-Man is better, and it's illegal to like multiple things at once? Well I like BOTH of these wacky box arts! If Capcom can use Bad Box Art Mega Man in a game, perhaps I can hope for Pac-Stanley to return in an amazing digital fashion...?

[iamhereforfunnzies]

PlatonicYandere!Damian Wayne

Synopsis: Have you ever looked at your sibling and asked "What your cool?"

Damian never glared at you , no. Why would he? Look at you! His older sibling who is just some weird civilian if he didn't know any better he would have sliced you into halves for looking so indecent. How dare you walk around looking like some common criminal??? He turns red every time someone mentions that you both share blood.

Walking down the hall he spots his sibling with a leather jacket that is just pure color chaos , the colors don't compliment at all it looks who in their right mind make such an ugly ass jacket? The way there are random rips , using paint to be just splattering everywhere for nothing , why in god's name will you mix that shade of red and blue together??? It's too light and too dark! But the words you plastered...

He respected you for that , eyes widen in shock looking at those words , how could he not? Takes an abundance of confidence for anyone to be wearing that (Even if its ugly ass hell) . The thought of you wearing that outside makes his stomach churn , gotham isn't safe for you to be wearing that. So he did what's best.

He ripped your jacket to shreds, it was a necessity so stop crying like he killed your dog. Stop wailing and screaming as if he ripped your arm off. Please , I don't like it. It was so you can be safe what if someone killed you for wearing that? I am saving you. I AM SAVING YOU STOP CRYING.

He walked to you shaking his arms up just like how Dick always did everytime he felt weak and hug--- You pushed him to the wall.

What?

The image of you foaming in the mouth , pulling your hair as your eyes red looking at the remains of your jacket , you scream jittering as you try and try and try finding a way to fix it but it can't. Damian stares at you shaking he... Shouldn't have done that , his voice was dry and heavy as his lips quiver. "I am sorry."

You cover your face with your fingers , but your eyes sharpen looking at him. "Fucking Brat"

Dinner came , he sat down looking up seeing the seat empty. Everything goes without any changes as if his siblings appearance was just an option. Damian couldn't move on he wouldn't move on after that.

In some way he started going to your room , inspecting your closet. Every single piece of clothing is horrid to him , how does alfred even wash this without dulling the color. This entire closet from socks to hats need to be handwashed cause it's all so flimsy that it could easily break in the wash.

But every cloth had a purpose just not to cover up but oneself but to scream the words no one dares say. Have you been wearing this type of clothing all over gotham without a single wound!? He is... Impressed but worried. He notes that a shirt has dried blood though.

The way you speak makes makes him irked in astonishment how Father let's you go around doing anything. How are you even alive? Walking around with a target being so obnoxiously loud the Daam aliens can here you!

Once he was inspecting if you got any new articles of clothing when he heard the door open, he immediately hid himself. Watching you drag yourself to your bed with blood dripping from the side of your stomach made him bit his lip to stop himself from yelling at you.

His jaw drops , eyes shaking , fingers and feet felt a thousand needles prick him at once when he saw you inhaling the laughing gas.

"I know your there" you smile looking at the closet. Damian freezes , reluctantly opening the closet door.

"Ain't I something , lil bro?" Damian flinches seeing your easy going smile , you look so out of it but he played along. "What so your cool now?" he needed answers.

[megalony]

My Squad

This is a dad! Evan Buckley imagine I am thinking of turning into a series if anyone would be interested in reading it. Any feedback or ideas are always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

911 Masterlist

Summary: Evan hasn't been with the team long and has kept his family a secret, but now he is ready for the team to meet his daughters. All of them.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evan loved his job.

Out of all the other odd jobs, random placements and painful experiences he had worked at throughout the years, being a fireman was his calling. It was the one job he felt so at home and eager to do and proud of. And it was the first time he had felt like his colleagues were his family.

But despite feeling like the team were his family, Evan made a quick decision not to tell them about the family he had waiting for him at home when he clocked out each shift.

There were different reasons he didn't tell the team. They all knew he was married, that was something Evan had to disclose in his interview since (Y/n) was his emergency contact so if something happened, she would be able to find him at the hospital if a situation ever arose. But he didn't tell them the rest.

Hen thought of him as a playboy, she'd made that clear from the start and maybe that was just due to the impression Evan gave off. He looked carefree and he was daring and hot headed and passionate when he did his job, his attitude was loving but not exactly the image of a family man. So Hen didn't think Evan was 'dad material' and he didn't take it to heart, he knew looks could be deceiving.

Chimney seemed to think Evan was putting up a front, he was always commenting on how if Evan had a wife waiting at home- he had never met (Y/n) so was slightly sceptical if Evan actually was married or not- he could be so daring in the job. He was first to climb the ladder or run into a burning building.

He didn't understand that it was in Evan's nature to be quick thinking and push forward and do whatever he could to help and think of the consequences afterwards. And at the front of Evan's mind was always his family, he didn't rush into things without considering them. Chimney didn't know this, he didn't see it.

For Bobby, Evan got the impression his captain thought he was young and quite like a puppy, still finding his way in life and working out what he was doing. Bobby thought of Evan as his kid, he thought of him as younger than he really was.

And Eddie, he was still the newbie to the team. He was working them all out and getting into their way of things and getting to know them. Evan didn't give the same 'dad vibes' as Eddie.

No one knew about his children.

He did hint, once or twice, about who he was going home to and what he had hidden behind closed doors. But Evan didn't want to rush into things when this was the best job he'd had and the best people to work with. Evan wasn't good with change and if they knew about his family, dynamics would change. He hadn't brought his family or even (Y/n) to the Christmas party last year.

It had been the first event Evan had been to since he joined the team and he was too anxious about telling them he had a family to actually break the news and bring them along. His family was his everything and he liked having a little secret at home to come back to.

He was ready now.

He was ready for the team to meet his family because he was tired of being questioned if his wife was real or just imaginary. He was tired or the team calling him a daredevil with no conscience and no rationality or consequences. If this was going to be his team and his family for the foreseeable future, he could let them into his world and let them see what he was always fighting for.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

Evan tilted his head down to the right when (Y/n)'s voice, laced with sleep, broke him out of his thoughts and changed the quiet atmosphere surrounding them. It dawned on him then that while he'd been laid on his back with his left arm behind his head, his fingers had been tapping on the headboard.

It was an old habit he couldn't break when he was deep in thought or anxious about something. It had been so automatic that he didn't even hear or feel his knuckles rapping on the wood until now.

"Sorry, just thinking," He tightened his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist, smiling to himself when he felt her move against him. Her arm crept higher over his chest until her hand was curled around his tense shoulder and her upper chest was laid over his. She nuzzled her face against his other shoulder she was laid on and pressed a butterfly kiss against his collar bone that made him shiver.

"About what?" (Y/n) feathered her fingers over his shoulder as she breathed in his scent.

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her ear and the way it pulsed through her skin like a steady drum, trying to coax her back into slumber again. Whenever Evan did a night shift, (Y/n) couldn't sleep. She was too used to laying on top of him and hearing his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

"Introducing you and the girls to the team."

"Is that what you want?" (Y/n) could feel herself waking up a little when it registered what he had said. She knew how important his family and his work family were to Evan and how he wanted them separate for the time being. But if he was ready to introduce them all, (Y/n) wasn't going to say no.

It would be lovely to put faces to the names of the people he had been telling her about. The people that kept her husband safe for her while he was at work. The people who he risked his life for and who, in turn, risked their lives for him.

"Yeah, I want them to meet you all." He reeled her into his side and pressed a sloppy kiss to her temple, unable to stop from smiling against her skin.

Maybe it was time to introduce them.

***

"Stay close girls, I don't want you wandering round here." (Y/n) eyed two of her girls closely and tilted her head at them so they knew she was being serious. The last thing she wanted was to lose the girls at the station and then an alarm go off and chaos ensued.

They had to stay close and within her sights so no trouble was caused, this was the first time the girls would see their dad at work.

It wasn't supposed to be today, but plans had changed.

"I want daddy," Ella bit her thumb, her big blue eyes doing a wide sweep of the station that looked as big as her whole school, playground included. She couldn't see her dad anywhere and she had been crying for him for the last hour. The little girl was getting restless.

"We're gonna find him now." Reaching down, (Y/n) brushed Ella's hair behind her ear before she juggled Cora a little higher on her hip. She didn't have time to struggle getting the pushchair into the car when she had to go and pick the girls up from school and now she was regretting it. She had to carry Cora around with her, lest she wanted to set her down on the floor and watch her crawl around the station and drool everywhere.

"Hi, can I help you?" Chimney stuffed his hands into his pockets, smiling brightly at the four girls he saw walking past the truck, clearly lost in the station.

"Hi… is Evan around? Is it okay if we see him?" (Y/n) smiled nervously and did another double take of the station. She could hear voices coming from the loft upstairs but she couldn't see who was up there.

"Sure, he's just upstairs… you must be Maddie, I'm Howie, but everyone calls me Chimney."

(Y/n) felt her smile melt into a more comfortable one as she walked over to him, making sure Angel and Ella were right behind her as Chimney guided them over towards the stairs. Evan had told the team he had a big sister then, at least he had opened up to them a little. (Y/n) knew he told them he was married, it was the girls he hadn't said anything about.

He didn't mention he had three of them.

"Hey Chim… do we have guests for dinner?" Bobby moved the large dish of pasta into the centre of the table before he pulled back and placed his hands on his hips. His smile was warm and inviting as he looked over the troop of girls who were stood beside chimney.

No one mentioned having family or guests popping by the station today, not that it really mattered. Anyone was welcome as long as it wasn't an inspection day or the bell didn't go off unannounced and ruin things. The station was warm and friendly, they wanted family to feel safe and comfortable coming here and being around the team.

"I think we do, this is-"

"(Y/n)?" Evan almost dropped the bottle of water he just got out the fridge when he turned around and clocked his gaze on his wife.

What was she doing here? Why did she have the girls with her? They should be at school right now.

"Surprise," She bounced Cora on her hip who gurgled, content at pulling the necklace tight in her fist and try to shove it into her mouth.

"Wait, (Y/n)?" Chimney pulled his hands from his pockets and turned at an angle to look at the woman stood beside him. She didn't correct him when he assumed she was Buck's sister Maddie. She didn't say her name or even say anything. This couldn't be the girl Buck was always telling them about, the girl Chimney had been very sure didn't actually exist. She was as beautiful as Buck always boasted.

"Daddy!" Ella could of cried when her blurry eyes finally set on the one person she had been crying out for during the past hour or so.

She pulled away from her big sister and bolted past the large table, bypassed Bobby who seemed to be in her way and made a beeline towards Evan, almost knocking him down with her force. She barelled into his arms, narrowly missing his legs when he lifted her up so she didn't rugby-tackle him down into the fridge behind him.

He lifted her up and swung her round in the air, a bright smile painting his face as he lowered her back down and snuggled her into his chest. His arms pinned her against his chest and he smothered her temple with kisses to feel her squirm and wriggle against him.

"Hi baby! Why aren't you at school?" Evan's voice was a notch higher than normal and full of surprise as he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head and shimmied side to side with his middle girl.

"Hi daddy,"

"Hi sweetie," Evan cooed back and raised his free hand to his temple before he slowly stretched his arm out in the sign for hello.

He grinned broadly when Angel trotted over and wrapped her arms around his legs, burrowing into him to get some of his attention since she was here too. She was the eldest, after all, she was the one who Evan always called his 'little angel' and not just because it was her name. She was his first born, then Ella was his middle girl who was his little double, and Cora was his youngest baby.

"Buck, care to introduce us?" Bobby clamped one hand down on his hip and reached the other out to lean against the kitchen counter.

He rose his brows and quirked a smile as Chimney stood flabbergasted, Hen sat at the table with an open mouth and shock written on her face.

And Eddie did well to hide his surprise as he made a beeline for (Y/n) and the toddler in her arms.

"Guys, this is (Y/n)," Evan pointed over to his wife who he slowly shuffled towards with Angel still clinging to his legs. "This is my eldest, Angel, then there's Ella here," He bounced her on his hip but she hid her face in his neck, too shy to look around. "And the youngest there is Cora; meet my squad."

All of them could see Evan had a proud smile, bright shining eyes and a deep chuckle hiding in his chest. These were his girls, his squad of ladies and he was proud and cherished each of them. He had his wife and three special girls to show off and now the team could see that he wasn't the reckless person they all thought he was. He was a proud dad to three girls.

"Girls, this is my captain Bobby… that's Hen, Chimney you've seen, and this is my pal Eddie."

"You didn't mention anything about this. Where have you been hiding them?" Hen spoke around her cup of coffee but she was too shocked to take another sip.

Buck; their nutter Buck was a dad. He had three children hidden away that they had no idea about.

"You don't waste much time, do you Buck?" Eddie smirked, letting his eyes drift between his friend and (Y/n) until the rest of the team looked over and it clicked in.

She was pregnant.

"I told you, this is my squad."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes but her smile gave away the slight blush and embarrassment she felt. This was exactly what they both had been expecting when the team realised that Evan wasn't even thirty yet and he already had three children, soon to become four.

Her gaze turned back to Eddie who was tickling Cora and she happily handed her toddler over when he muttered a kind 'may I?'. He moved to sit down at the table with Cora on his lap, bouncing her up and down and entertaining her like a champion.

"Now why aren't you at school?" Evan looked back down at Ella and gently brushed his thumb against her cheek to try and get her to talk to him but she stayed quiet and instead buried her face more into his neck to hide herself away.

Looking down at his eldest girl, Evan adjusted Ella a bit higher in his arms so he could raise his hands out in front of him with Ella in the crook of his elbow. He raised his left palm up and pressed his right palm down like he was making a funny clap, doing the sign language for school while he simultaneously whispered 'no school' at her. He was the one who had dropped them both off at school this morning and he knew they shouldn't have left early today which begged the question, why were they here now at lunch time?

The seven-year-old looked up at him with her doe eyes and then looked across at her mum instead.

"They gave out cookies at school but no one mentioned they had milk in them."

"Lactose intolerant?" Hen muttered quietly but she pursed her lips and realised she had to be wrong when she saw Evan's reaction. He quickly pulled Ella back and cupped her face in his palm to look down at her and examine her like he'd been told she had been shot. His fingertips skimmed across her face before going to examine her neck which made the little girl pull back with a whine.

He could see it now. He could see the dried tears staining her cheeks and the redness all around her eyes and the blotches across her cheeks and down her neck.

"Ella's allergic to milk," (Y/n) tried to smile but it was hard after the argument she'd just had with the school.

There was a laminated piece of paper in Ella's school bag that listed off her allergies and it was on her record and written down in reception and the classroom cupboard. No one could miss it or forget or not realise she had allergies. At home there was a big sticker that said 'Allergies: MILK' in bright brick red letters at the top so if anyone came round, they knew what they couldn't give to one of the girls. Then below that it listed her other allergies such as honey, lavender and plasters.

They had a section in the cupboard filled with all the biscuits and snacks Ella would eat which didn't contain milk.

Lavender brought Ella out in bright red splotches that itched and burned like she had been touched by a red hot poker. Plasters were less dramatic, they were irritating to her skin and slowly started to feel like they burned. Honey was hit and miss, it either made her chest burn and her skin blotch or she had a worse reaction and couldn't breathe.

But milk was the main allergy, anytime Ella had milk she went into anaphalactic shock. Her throat would swell and close up, her chest would ache and burn and she had to have one if not two shots of adrenaline from her EpiPen to stop the reaction.

When Ella was a baby, her allergy was less serious, they had to buy special baby powder that she could take. But as soon as she was a toddler and they tried any other form of milk, they had to take a drive down to A&E or call an ambulance.

"Did they use your EpiPen?" Evan spoke quietly, his brows still furrowed and his lips still held in a deep frown as he looked down at his daughter. He started to relax a little when Ella leaned into the palm of his hand and nuzzled her nose against his wrist making him feel more at ease but he still frowned when she nodded. She looked as if she was about to cry again but when she curled her arms around Evan's neck and he kissed her cheek, she seemed to calm down a bit more.

"I didn't know daddy, I only had one bite,"

"It's not your fault baby," He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and tightened his arms round her when she leaned her cheek on his shoulder.

The school had a list of Ella's allergies and they had two EpiPens, one in the classroom and one in the reception as a back up. She took her own pack up to school so there was no risk of anything being contaminated with milk but they should double check before they give her anything. (Y/n) had told them under no circumstances to give Ella anything that wasn't in a packet, especially cake when children brought in their birthday cake that didn't have a list of ingredients. It wasn't worth the risk when Ella had such a high allergy.

At least she was okay this time, Evan had been called before from the school saying she had two EpiPens administered and they called an ambulance as protocol.

(Y/n) got the phone call but they had been quick giving Ella her dose of adrenaline and she calmed down, started to breathe and talk just fine and when (Y/n) rushed down and checked her over, there was no need for an ambulance. But Ella was in a state and she didn't want to stay and to make things easier, she had collected Angel early as well so she didn't have to go back in a few hours and pick her up later.

The plan had been to take the girls home but Ella had cried as soon as she got in the car, demanding to see her dad. It was routine after any allergic reaction that Ella saw Evan and got comforted by him and today was no different, she wasn't going home without seeing her daddy.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Is that okay?" (Y/n) looked between Bobby and Evan, double checking that it would be okay for the girls to stay, none of them had had anything to eat yet other than a partial cookie that caused today's chaos.

"Of course! We have to get to know you all now anyway," Hen waved for them all to sit down around the table. It was the routine to eat dinner together as a family and now, finally, they could meet Buck's family and get to know them. They were going to be part of the 118 either way so they should stay.

Evan leaned over Eddie so he could give Cora a quick kiss, he hadn't seen his one year old yet who Eddie gently handed back to (Y/n). And Evan kissed (Y/n)'s temple before he moved and took a seat next to (Y/n) with Ella on his lap since she was attached to him at the moment. Angel moved to sit between Evan and Chimney while Bobby sat at the other end of the table.

A fondness washed over Bobby when he looked at Evan suddenly interacting with Angel.

He held his hands out in front of him and curled all fingers but his pinkies into his palm and made a circular motion with his hands before pulling his arms back at his sides like repelling magnets.

"Pasta for lunch sweetie," He spoke slow and clear and repeated the sign for pasta until Angel nodded and grinned. It was one of her favourites.

"What's the sign for hello?" Chimney looked over Angel at Evan who was sat on her other side but his eyes widened when Angel looked up at him and placed her hand to her head and did a salute. Hello was an easy sign, a simple gesture that many mistook for an army salute.

"She can read your lips if you speak clear, sign is just easier for her, we're working on pronouncing," Evan kissed her temple when she leaned into his arm, looking up at him with adoration in her eyes as she watched him explain.

Angel could speak but her pronouncing was a little bad at the moment, she could barely hear anyone or hear herself speak and it made her self conscious. Sign language was easier and calming for her because no one could make fun of how she said things and she could sign much faster than she could lip read or speak.

"Oh, right."

"Daddy…" Ella looked up at him with bashful eyes when he plated up Angel and himself a bowl of pasta, knowing Ella would share with him.

"No milk baby, I saw Bobby make it. You'll be fine." He winked down at her and took a mouthful before he stabbed another forkful and held it down towards her. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head to keep her calm and when she took a cautious bite, she grinned.

Evan went to take another mouthful but his jaw dropped and he gasped when Ella reached both her small hands up and grabbed his wrist to pull the fork down to her instead. She giggled when Evan tipped his head back and groaned but everyone else started to laugh.

"My daughters like your cooking, Cap." Evan gave up and handed Ella the fork so she could eat first, he knew he wasn't going to get very much now until she was finished. And he leaned over to the left and kissed Angel's forehead, rubbing his free hand up and down her back.

"I'm glad to hear it, that means they can all come by more often."

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

The Beast and The Sweetest Cherry

Part One

Warnings: SMUT, Virgin!OC, Period Drama, Angst, Dark, Beauty and The Beast, Arranged Marriage.

Summary: Just outside a small town up near a chilly mountain range, lies a large black manor, home to a cruel Lord with a dark secret. The town lives with a strict set of rules that keeps them safe, and avoid the bad tempered Lord's wrath as much as they can. One day, a young girl offers herself up to the cruel Lord leading to passionate disarray when the virgin meets the Beast.

The Beast had promised wealth to restore her father’s fortunes and more. They assured her that the Beast wouldn’t kill her.

“No,” a deep voice rumbled behind her. She hadn’t heard the Beast arrive.

He stood back, tall and broad shouldered as her father had said, watching from the depths of his cloak. The winter wind caught the black folds, whipping them tight against his massive body, but never stirred around his face. Venus couldn’t make out his features, though she thought perhaps she caught the gleam of a white tooth. And was that the shadow of a muzzle?

She shuddered, looking away quickly.

“No, Venus,” the Beast said, “I will never take you by force. I will only take you when you ask me to. That one choice, at least, will always be yours.”

Venus stirred uneasily inside the confines of her gown. Something about his words seemed…unwholesome somehow. She could not see him clearly, and she was under the impression that he was hideous. Too hideous to reveal himself. Venus rubbed her arm nervously beneath her sheer and very revealing white night gown. Her chocolate ringlets cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like a wild flower. It had been a full day since they exchanged vows. Venus refused to leave the room. It wasn’t her official room, The Beast was still preparing that one.

She’d been nervous indeed. This would be their first night together. Venus was too afraid to face him days prior after their marriage.

“Am I ever to see you?” Venus asked with a timid voice.

The sound of his deep breath made the hairs on her arms stand up.

“Do you wish to?”

Venus glanced back at his black silhouette with fearful eyes before quickly looking away again.

“It might be easier for me…to get accustomed to you, Sir.”

“You see, Venus, that’s one thing I’ll have to control. These things are best done in stages. I intend to win you over, my Venus, but we’ll take it slow…”

Venus tried to calm the tremble of her body.

“I–I don’t see how that’s possible, Sir.”

A dark, menacing chuckle filled the room. Venous shut her eyes, the sound of her breathing rising.

“You’re innocent, Venus,” The Beast said, his voice nearly a growl, “And you have not discovered how I can make you feel.”

“I have. You make me feel fear. And revulsion.” Venus trekked over to the grand window, her doe eyes watching the raging snow storm outside, “Despair, perhaps.”

“None of those are real, Venus”

She forced herself to look at him. “I must tell you, I don’t see how I can ever be your wife in truth. I cannot imagine asking you to—”

“To what? take your maidenhead? To rend you with my dick so that you scream in agonized pleasure?”

The shock drained Venus’ body of the ability to move. Even as the image somehow stirred her.

“Sir—Beast, you cannot say such things to me.” Venus retorted with a shaky voice.

The bite of his words and that monstrous voice had her shivering as if she were standing in the snow nearing frostbite.

“It seems, my bride, that we must stretch your imagination as well. The only thing I may not do is take you by force. Everything else is open to me.” He settled back in a very masculine satisfaction. “If you intend to keep the bargain that saved your father’s life, that is.”

Venus bit her lip. Her father had wept even as he handed her into the Beast’s carriage. Had he realized? Her virginity wouldn’t matter at the end of the week if she was dead. She slowly walked back to the bed and turned her back to him. Her eyes fell solemnly to her lap, and as he drew closer, she couldn’t control her body from shaking with terror.

“Venus.” The Beast leaned forward. She shrank back, but he only laid a gloved hand over hers, “I swear I will not injure you. Your beauty is precious to me. I would not see it marred in any way. I want you to feel safe with me, despite what they speak of me beyond these walls. I will not hurt you. I would never…”

She restlessly moved her hands out from under the black leather of his glove. A mistake, since his hand fell to her knee instead, a heavy weight through the thin cloth. The weight on her small limb awakened something she’d never felt.

“I will wish to see it, however,” the Beast said, gravel in his voice.

Venus’ heart stuttered. “See it?”

“You, in your naked glory. In exchange, I will not touch you just yet.” He leaned back again. “I mention it now so that you might mull the idea over.”

Venus drew in a breath, “I do not think I shall become peaceful with the idea in that space of time.”

“You mistake me, my bride. Peaceful is not how I want you.”

If he’d intended her to think about it, to imagine herself naked and vulnerable in front of his black-cloaked figure, then he succeeded.

“I want you to learn your body…and I intend on guiding you through it…I want you ruined. I want you overcome with desire so intense you can’t form proper sentences…”

The Beast held out his hand towards her and Venus placed her dainty hand in the middle of his massive palm. His thick, dangerous fingers curled around her hand and with the slightest tug, Venus was on her feet and staring up at The Creature that stood at 6’7 with a massive built.

He didn’t drag her along, but neither did the Beast release her hand. The grand house blurred around her as she frantically tried to think of a way out.

“I’m dizzy, Sir…”

“Excellent,” he purred.

“Truly, Husband.” Venus stopped, placed a trembling finger to her temple, and stared steadfastly at the black cloaked chest before her. “I have a pain in my head and—”

“VENUS.”

His tone slammed through her. All stern disapproval and warning.

“Yes?” She barely got the word out.

“You may address me as ‘my lord’, ‘Sir’, or ‘Beast.’ If you call me ‘Husband’ again, I will assume you are ready for me to assume my full husbandly rights. Understood?”

“Yes. My lord.”

“Then let us proceed.”

Venus once again struggled to keep pace with his long strides, until the dark hallway opened into the most glorious atrium.

Woes temporarily forgotten, Venus gazed in wonder at the glass walls and ceiling sparkling in the evening. Moonlight flooded the room from three sides and roses, blood-red roses, filled every corner. Here and there, graceful sculptures peeked between the blooms.

Velvet crimson spills, mounds and waterfalls, the roses tumbled out of urns and thrust up from beds built into the floor. The roses Father had brought surely came from these.

Venus realized she stood alone in the middle of the floor. The Beast had settled into a grand chair, massive as a throne, studded with iron rings in various places. It was perfectly situated so that he might survey the room. And everything in it.

“As you can see, I enjoy beauty. Now, it’s time to enjoy yours,” The Beast relaxed into the chair and his enormous and powerful thighs spread wide, “Venus, I want you to remove that thin gown and place it on that table, right there, “He waved a languid hand towards a table situated against the wall, “You will find a pair of heels there…slip them on.”

Venus eased herself towards the table with timid movement. She stopped before the table and willed herself to calm down. The voice in her head told her to calm down and do as he commanded.

“Venus, the longer you take, the greater the punishment.”

“P–punishment? I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me—”

“And I won’t. Not all punishment warrants violence, Venus,” The Beast leaned forward in the chair, “Have you ever heard of inflicting pain for pleasure? A spanking for instance?”

Venus shuddered.

“Were I you”—he settled back in the chair—“I wouldn’t give away opportunities for punishment. But that’s entirely your choice. You’ve earned one punishment for your hesitation. Proceed with my instructions.”

With trembling fingers, Venus reached up to pull the straps of her thin gown past her shoulders, her back facing him. The Beast, however, did not seem inclined to urge her to move more quickly. His head once again propped on his fist, he watched her from the shadows of his hood.

Venus felt the fabric pool around her feet. She stroked her arm nervously, too afraid to turn around. The Beast, however, made a sound deep within his chest that made her whimper. She startled herself. Venus ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out the formal coils her sisters had twisted in.

“Turn.”

Turn? Venus’ heart skipped a beat.

“Are you hesitating, Venus?”

“I’m…nervous…”

“You need not be…it’s just you and I…now turn.”

His rasp spurred her.

The Beast heaved himself out of the throne and moved toward her. Venus closed her eyes, unable to bear it. He stopped behind her, his presence radiating a heat so intense. She could hear rustling, and then the sound of his gloves hitting the table. Venus’ eyes flicked to the large gloves and then down at her bare feet. The sound of fabric moving gained her attention. She caught a glimpse of his yellow eyes and it rendered her speechless. He picked up the heels and handed them to her from behind.

“Take them. Slip them on. And turn.”

From his tone, she sensed his frustration at her disobedience. Venus accepted the heels; black patent leather pumps, and went to work slipping them on. She stood a few inches taller, but still nothing compared to how tall The Beast is. He returned to his seat and the distance between them gave Venus enough courage to continue. Venus began to turn, her finger twiddling bashfully, when she fully faced him. Her doe eyes sought him out before glancing down at her heeled feet.

She stood there forever it seemed. Frozen while he just stared at her. When he finally spoke, she thought she might whither away.

“Lift your head. You look at me, Venus.”

She stared at him with a flutter of her lashes. Her breath shuttered through her and her heart beat so fast against her chest cavity.

“Come to me…”

Her heels against the floor was so loud it almost drowned out her breathing. To stand before him was a battle. She fought hard to look at him and when his clawed finger ghosted over her exposed skin on her hip she couldn’t contain herself. She moaned. She was exposed and vulnerable to this Beast and his touch made her moan. Was her body betraying her. Blood pulsed through her, pounding in her breasts and pooling down to her groin.

“Mmm…”

He could sense her arousal.

Shoulders back. Your breasts are gorgeous, Venus—so full and round. Thrust them forward. Place your hands behind your back…just like that…”

Venus was aware of her thick nipples hardening beneath his gaze. A tingle crept over her skin and her thighs clenched.

“…I love your nipples. Nice and big. I’m impatient to try some tricks to keep them stiff. By the time I’m done, you’ll be able to do nothing but think of how your nipples feel.”

Venus trembled violently, hot tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks.

“Why do you weep? Turn in a slow circle.”

She complied but didn’t answer the question.

“Venus, I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“You’re so cruel,” she cried, “treating me like this.”

“All beasts are cruel. It is my nature. And for now I merely admire. Wouldn’t any bridegroom expect to see you so?”

His haunting eyes glided over her body and when it reached her bushy lower lips, a tongue so long slithered out of his mouth and sharp teeth gleamed like a predator to its prey.

“Fuck…you are tempting me, Venus…that body on you…mmm…fucking beautiful…”

She felt a flutter in her belly from his words.

“Turn…bend…”

Venus looked back at him over her shoulder as her back arched forward, bringing her ass within his line of vision. The deep groan of satisfaction that spilled from his lips made her contain herself own sounds of desire. How quickly this Beast could make her feel such dirty thoughts…

“I can’t wait to have you. And I know you feel the same. No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise…”

Venus remained silent.

“As for your punishment, I hadn’t anticipated that you would need correction so soon. But I think it’s best for you to learn quickly, don’t you?”

“I…I don’t want to be punished.”

“You don’t have a say in the matter…I’m your Lord…you do as I say…hear me?”

Venus’ lower lip trembled.

“Sir, please…I don’t want it.” Venus pleaded.

“Ah, but I wish it. And I think you’ll find it’s good for you. You’ve been petted and spoiled. While I intend to pet you, my sweet, you’ll find that I’m most interested in your character. You don’t wish to deny me my few pleasures?”

“No, my lord.”

“I shall decide for you, then. It shall be tonight. You may lower your hands and find your chambers. Return down the hallway and follow the light that guides you.”

Venus didn’t waste time scurrying off and out of sight.

——

Her chambers were beyond grand. Enormous faceted windows looked out over the gardens. Though ringed round by the dense and grasping forest, the grounds looked meticulously manicured, gracefully proportioned. Beautiful. No wonder Father had thought it a sanctuary.

Venus had found the rooms by following a light, indeed. A little will-o’-the-wisp had popped out of the woodwork in the hallway. She followed its pink bobbing path, soothing herself by pulling her hair over her breasts to shield them and holding her hands over the place between her legs. She didn’t dare remove the shoes, however, until she reached her room.

There was no promised gown.

Instead Venus found a short, silk robe lying across the foot of the immense four-poster bed. The fine white silk was so translucent that it hid nothing. After putting it on anyway, since it was meagerly better than being completely nude, she glimpsed herself in the full-length mirror. Her black hair tumbled in coils. Her eyes looked huge in her face, the dark centers edging out the pure hazel. Venus could see her nipples pressing taut against the silk and the deep V at the juncture of her thighs. This is what the Beast had seen.

He’d seen her this way. Venus stroked her hips as she turned every which way, admiring her hourglass shape. The time alone in that room until The Beast called for her gave her a moment to accept that she’d had some attraction towards him. Although marrying a monster hiding deep within enchanted woods wasn’t on her agenda, she wasn’t completely put–off by it. He hadn’t killed her. He actually wanted her. Truly wanted her. And she’d never experienced that.

The innocent girl who’d dressed for her wedding on that haunting morning had disappeared. This girl looked ravished already. In a way, she supposed she had been.

And this was just the beginning.

Venus explored her new room and marveled at the extraordinary detail and how extravagant it was. The wardrobe was filled with all sorts of clothes and shoes and there was a vanity covered with perfumes, oils, jewelry, and makeup. Everything she ever needed. A soft patter at her door made her jump back.

“Miss? Your Lord would like for you to freshen before returning to him.”

It was one of the servants.

“Thank you. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Venus hurried towards her own bathroom, finding the tub already filled. She knew that castle held a magical force. Venus pinned her curls above her head and used a lavender scented soap. She washed away whatever she could, telling herself to relax and embrace her new life as a wife. Her thoughts drifted to sex with him. The sponge against her brown skin paused, the soap suds gliding.

She knew he had to be big down there. How would he feel inside of her. Spreading her. Bottoming out in her…

“Oh, goodness,” Venus placed a hand to her chest.

So much for being brave.

She was scared out of her mind. She wasted time staring at the tap dripping, the water beneath her growing cold. Venus lifted from the bath and grabbed a towel, securing it around her before entering her room. She went to work slathering fragrant lotion on her smooth skin and after letting her hair down, she fluffed it out and turned her gaze onto the silk robe he’d left for her.

No delaying, then, unless she wanted to sit in the dark. And Venus felt sure she didn’t want the Beast to come looking for her.

Suddenly, an invisible force began moving about the room, like a ghost. Venus gasped, eyes wide with fear, the doors to her wardrobe opening and after a moment, fresh stockings and a pair of ribbon garters. Not the ones she’d worn that morning before her wedding—these were sheer red and softer than rain. The crimson ribbons matched the boned scarlet satin corset. Venus could don the stockings herself, but she was dubious about the corset. When she slipped it on, though, invisible fingers tugged the laces into place.

Tightly.

Venus ended up grasping the edge of the tall table with her room to brace herself. When they released her, she saw herself in the full-length mirror, the thatch of glossy dark hair where her thighs met framed by the red stockings. The scarlet corset that fitted down over her hips, cinched her waist tightly and rising to a shelf under her breasts, cupping them as if they were some sort of pastry, her nipples nearly as hard as marble

She looked away. Looked for the gown. Only the red heels awaited, mysteriously transported from the other room.

“He promised me a gown,” Venus muttered to herself. “Perhaps it’s in the other room.”

But when she started toward the bedchamber, the dressing-room door flew closed, even as a chair in front of a vanity mirror slid out invitingly. The shoes slid in front of her. She had to get her nerves in check. She allowed the invisible maids to doll her up further and when they stopped, Venus admired the work they’d done and she gawked at her appearance. She looked like a vixen waiting to get fucked.

Oh goodness.

The pink light from before appeared before her eyes, Venus realizing that the light is what helped her get prepared. She tilted her head at it. How interesting.

He was waiting. She needed to hurry. Before she could leave, a long, flowing red gown with tight gloves attached levitated towards her. Venus gave the pink glow one final look before placing the red gown around her body and leaving the room.

——

Two timid knocks and his booming voice commanded her to enter. Venus crossed the threshold into what looked like a den. The Beast awaited her in his parlor. He stood before a roaring fire, wearing a black satin cloak, the folds of the hood, as always, deeply shadowing his face.

“Venus, you look lovely tonight. How fare you? Are your chambers suitable?”

A bit taken aback by his solicitous tone, Venus paused. “My chambers are more than suitable. I… Thank you for thinking of my wishes.”

The Beast inclined his head. “Anything you wish for, just ask.”

Venus held up her brocade-confined hands. “I’d like a proper gown.”

He chuckled. “In this, you will indulge me. That gown suits my purposes.”

“It will make it most difficult for me to comply, my lord.”

“I shall be delighted to assist you. Shall we? Unless you’d prefer a glass of wine before we go to bed?”

She shook her head and slipped her muffled hand through his arm.

“The gown suits you.”

Venus felt sure he studied her breasts. She glanced down and saw what she had thought a modest drape of satin now rode low over her pushed-up breasts. The cloth barely clung to her nipples, which stood out, turgid and sensitive.

“Come, don’t be afraid. We will only do as you wish tonight. But know this…” The Beast tilted her chin up at him, “You will be begging for more of me.”

Venus swallowed spit. The Beast guided her past the parlor and into a magnificent room. The room she would be sharing with him. The room she would be curled up in his arms. Having sex with him…kissing him…

The Beast picked Venus up bridal–style, and sat her on the bed. She looked up at him, watching with unwavering eyes as he removed his cloak. Her eyes fell upon a rather handsome face. Although he was a Beast, it was undeniable how attractive he is. She had never seen paintings of him in his human form, but she knew in her mind that he was a sight to behold.

“I want you to turn onto your stomach…”

Venus’ gaze dropped down to the beast removing a belt from his waist. He still had the body of a man covered in fur. His large hands moved fluently and Venus was stuck in a trance.

“Venus…what did I just say?”

She turned, the image of his features etched into her brain.

The bed dipped and his imposing frame settled behind her on his knees. He lifted her into an arched position, Venus gasping. His fingers raised the fabric of the gown over her waist, exposing her naked ass and pussy from behind. Venus felt heat creeping over her skin. He growled like the wild beast he is with curved horns, sharp teeth, and vicious eyes. But his lips…so plump…and his tongue so long…

Whack!

“My Lord!”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

Venus tried to stop him from spanking her but he pinned her wrists behind her back tightly with his free hand.

“Keep still and take this punishment, Venus. I have to teach you now…before I give you pleasure,” he popped her on the ass again, “Don’t anger me, baby…”

Venus’ eyes brimmed with tears. She begged and pleaded for him to stop.

“Please, please, Sir, I won’t ever disobey you again! I promise! I’ll be a good wife! I’ll listen!”

The Beast stopped. The sting of his strong hand remained and it burned so good that her clit pulsated. She was turned on and so deeply aroused. Who knew that spanking would make her feel this way? But she wasn’t prepared for the pain of it. It stung tremendously.

“I am happy that you see reason, Venus. Although I enjoyed the feel of this hefty ass against my palm…you’ve learned your lesson…for now…”

He rubbed her skin with tentative strokes. Venus’ eyes rolled shut from the soft grazing. The Beast chuckled at the dazed look on her beautiful face.

“You look so gorgeous like this, Venus…uninhibited…aroused…I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself. Tell me how you’re feeling…be honest with me…I won’t bite…”

Venus locked her glossy lips.

“I…I like it.” She admitted.

“Mmm…I’m very glad to hear that…”

His lips peppered kisses to her ass and Venous let out an angelic moan.

“My Venus…I crave you badly…so fucking much…”

The Beast breathed in her scent from behind. Venus shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Talk to me, love…tell me what you would like from me tonight…”

Venus knew that it would take time to warm her up. She was too afraid to go all the way tonight, but she did want to experience pleasure. She want The Beast to give her a taste of what it’s like to cum on his tongue. The images replaying in her mind of his long tongue made her wonder what it would be like to feel it between her thighs.

“Venus?”

“I’m sorry, Sir…I…I want you to make me cum…with your tongue….”

She spoke those words so softly, but The Beast caught on to every word. The girth of his enormous dick weakened the seam of his pants. He could faintly hear it rip. She was smart to request cunnilingus. The Beast would need a full day to break her in and Venus would need a full day to recover. They had time. And he would try to be patient, even though the monster within him wanted to break free.

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 . ( a collection of lyric prompts based on various works by ashnikko . adjust phrasing as necessary , mature themes and language are present . )

attitude and the booze won't save you .

you fuck my life up then you say "my bad" .

you don't seem to see what a cliche you are .

repeat after me , "i'm over it" .

you don't ever cross my mind , what's a sheep to a tiger ?

i'm no prey , but i am pursued .

my best friend thinks that i'm a dumbass .

the world is burning and i laugh at the blaze .

on your horse so high , i swear to god i'm higher .

heard a rumor that you said you made me who i am .

i'm too healthy , wealthy , well fed .

i don't have the time to pretend you're funny .

self - made , self - paid , how dare you speak my name ?

i hate you so much right now .

you're not special , it's not cute .

hi , it's me , back again . here to remind you he's not worth it .

i slip up , i text you , i forget that you were so disrespectful .

they told me to be nice and i told them to bite me .

you don't want to see me bratty .

i put that teddy bear you gave me in a blender .

whiskey in my hip flask , nothing fruity .

i can see the desperation , i've got you right where i want you .

you can't stand to see me shine .

so lame that i'm your only claim to fame .

i like how you look when you really beg .

i need a new toy just to cleanse my palate .

it's gonna hurt , it'll sting .

only one strike , then you get the boot .

the only thing you seem to give me is sex .

you think you're the man , bitch please .

we both know it wasn't love , it was a big bad habit .

i only trust a fella for some light amusement .

unfortunately , you made the mistake of underestimating me .

you wish you could sway my attention .

tell me what you need .

there was potential in you .

i wanna make a couple bad decisions .

i'm no cinderella , but i like the shoes .

i do well for myself , nothing you do is extraordinary .

my dumb ass should be a little more cautious .

fuck a princess , i'm a king .

i say i won't do it , then i do it and i make myself sick .

you think you're worth all the fuss ?

to tell the truth , role models weren't around me much .

why am i such a sucker for a fuckboy's freckles ?

i say it's a no - brainer , now .

i'm crazy , but you like that . i bite back .

you already know i'm not shy .

what we did was childish , can we put this behind us ?

nothing was nice , but i loved every minute .

i don't give a fuck , i have more fun on my ones .

i've been predisposed to trauma since i was eleven .

you can keep the image of my butt as a souvenir .

being a bitch is my kink .

you're still taught the same shit .

i think she really likes me .

hide your back , she likes to stab them .

i hate that i'm so self depricating , more comfortable in bad situations .

i'm a little faded , you look like a fuckin' painting .

when i'm with you i have amnesia , got me without a mind .

i don't let a fucker on the internet tell me nothing .

this is all because you want to say you've done it .

i'm fresh out of patience .

you wish i missed you . back the fuck up .

i'm a sucker for a little devastation .

coulda , shoulda , woulda , but you did it .

i swear i'm not crying , the sun's just bright .

tell me why i need you over the next .

i'm eager to hurt more .

i swear my blue vibrator brings me more joy .

i gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch .

you better stock up on tissues , jacking off to all my pictures .

fake it to the top .

typical of me to go and ruin the party .

i'm having the best time of my life .

i'm having the worst time of my life .

you look dumb now that i've come to my senses .

what do you really mean when you're calling me nice ?

you wanna hold a gun but they made you a pinup .

i forget that you're still so disrespectful .

your love is not impressive .

tell it to my manager , he'll tell you "pay a fee" .

now that i can think rationally , i feel so stupid .

everybody says they love me but i'm still brokenhearted .

it's like i need a babysitter , someone to come get me .

god made me pretty , you made me mean .

say you want my body , let me give it to you .

i'm not in your circle , baby .

i just wanna push you to the edge now .

your sad life is never getting better .

what are you mad at me for , huh ?

i was living good until your locusts and your plague hit .

forgive me for the nasty things i say when i'm wounded .

so you're scared of me now , huh ?

women hold the weight of the world .

there's something to be said for a bitch who can top me .

if nothing matters , then i'll be fine .

you hate me cause you hate yourself .

dust yourself off , girl , keep your chin up .

he says i'm a lost cause and he might be right .

i'm that "fuck up your life" girl .

i would crawl through broken glass to get home .

i play my life like a video game .

i think you've gotta do way more if you wanna please me .

what's he doing ? i don't need a brave knight .

i deleted your number .

i'm not shy , i'll say it . i've been picturing you naked .

legs getting tired , can we switch positions ?

you put a knife in my back but you'll never be the death of me .

i could squash you like a little rotten fruit .

you could never , 'cause you're not clever enough .

we were good while it lasted .

my baby calls me bossy .

i don't really need a man , but sometimes i want one though .

i can't even wear my skin without them asking where i've been .

i can make you call remember me .

stupid boy thinks that i need him .

hate me 'cause i'm beautiful , bitch i don't like you either .

i think you know you can't replace me .

who do i have to kill to make everybody love me ?

i try to think , but it's no use .

maybe we can love until we're dead .

this is not an invitation .

how dare i have private desires ?

now you're crying and you're shaking ?

nothing about you is attractive to me , now .

am i fuckable enough for you ?

i don't want you and i don't want your homie .

please don't think that the sex is gonna cloud my view .

can't believe i let your hand inside my bloomers .

tell me how my ass tastes , little bottom feeder .

you don't know your way around a pussy .

i want it , i win it . call it ambition .

i don't need the dick - i need magic , i need money .

i know you think about me in the shower .

i've got several dummies that wanna get on me .

this is so small in the big simulation .

go find another bitch to hoover , count the days until you lose her .

i know you think about me with your hand down your trousers .

you don't know anyone else like me .

it's a therapist you need .

[angelsuecult]

a lonely night | s. crosby

“it was the only time

and if i led you on then i apologize”

warnings: explicit sexual content, MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough encounters, strong language, unprotected sex, smut

summary: what was meant to be a casual fling has sidney wanting more from a woman who has made her intentions clear.

wordcount: 4.2k

song: a lonely night - the weeknd

a/n: this is lowkey my first time ever writing something like this so it might not be the best but i like it. i hope you guys do too! also i didn’t proofread so it might be all over the place, sorry!

———

It was a crowded charity event, one of those high-profile affairs where athletes and celebrities mingle, the kind of scene Sidney usually tolerated more than enjoyed. He had just scored a hat-trick the night before, so naturally, the room was abuzz with people trying to congratulate him, trying to been seen with him. He wore that success with a bit more arrogance than usual tonight—shoulders squared, chin up, a smirk tugging at his lips as he worked the room.

You were there as well, not out of any real obligation but because your PR team insisted it would be good for your image. You moved through the crowds with an effortless grace, accepting compliments with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. You were used to this, to people fawning over you, wanting a piece of you. But you weren’t here for them.

When Sidney caught sight of you, something about your presence struck him—maybe it was the way you seemed almost indifferent to the attention you received, like you had better things to do. Or maybe it was the way your gaze, when it did meet his, was steady and unflinching, showing no sign of anything really.

He approached you with a self-assured stride, that trademark Crosby confidence, expecting you to respond like everyone else did—flattered, intrigued, maybe even a little starstruck.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, voice smooth, carrying that undercurrent of cocky charm.

“And you must be Sidney Crosby,” you replied, your tone natural, giving nothing away.

His smile widened. “I guess that makes us the center of attention, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself, babe. I’m here for the free drinks.”

Sidney chuckled, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. You weren’t playing along, weren’t biting the bait he dangled so casually. “You’re not a hockey fan, I take it?”

“I’m a fan of a good game,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “But I’m not here to feed anyone’s ego.”

Sidney’s smirk faltered for a second before he recovered. “That’s refreshing,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Most people in this room can’t get enough of it.”

You met his gaze head-on, unbothered by how close he was now. “Maybe they’re just better at pretending than I am.”

Sidney's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping in. “So, what are you pretending to do here then?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “Charity. Same as you, I’m guessing.”

“Except people actually want to see me here,” he shot back, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“And I’m sure that helps you sleep at night,” you replied, not missing a beat.

There was a brief silence, charged with the tension of your verbal back and forth. Sidney was used to winning, on and off the ice, but this was a different kind of game, one where his usual moves didn’t seem to land the way he expected.

Finally he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you with a new level of interest. “I gotta say, this night just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said leaning in. “I don’t meet many people who aren’t impressed by me.”

“Maybe you should meet more people,” you suggested.

Sidney smirked, recognizing the game you were playing. “Maybe. But most of them aren’t as interesting as you.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, keeping your expression unchanged.

“Who said I was trying to go anywhere?” he shot back, his smirk widening.

A beat of silence settled once more, this time it was thick with tension. Sidney was used to women being drawn to him, used to his charm working like a well-oiled machine. But you weren’t giving him anything, and that only made him more determined.

“So if you’re not a fan of hockey, what are you a fan of?” he asked, trying a different approach.

“I never said I wasn’t a fan of hockey,” you replied, your tone still calm, still controlled. “I just said I’m not a fan of yours.”

The words hung in the air between them, shark and unexpected. Sidney blinked, taken aback for a split second before he could regain his composure.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to work on changing that,” he said, his voice low, almost daring.

“Good luck,” you said, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You’ll need it.”

———

Later that evening, after the event had wound down and most of the crowd had thinned out, Sidney found himself in the hotel bar. He wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, his mind still buzzing with the thrill of the evening. There was something about you—something that got under his skin in a way that he wasn’t used to.

He wasn’t surprised to see you there as well, sitting alone at the bar, a half empty glass of whiskey in front of you. He slid onto the stool beside you without an invitation.

“You don’t strike me as the type to drink alone,” he said, signaling the bartender for his own drink.

You barely glanced at him. “Maybe I’m not alone.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is here.”

You gave a small smile. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Sidney took a sip of his drink, studying you. There was something about you, something that intrigued him beyond just surface-level attraction. Maybe it was the way you held yourself, or the way you seemed immune to the usual charm he used so effortlessly.

“So, what’s your deal?” he asked, leaning back slightly.

You sighed, swirling the liquid in your glass. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. Sidney didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to bridge the gap that seemed to open between you.

“Look,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less cocky than before. “I’m not here to mess with you. I just-”

You cut him off, your tone laced with sarcasm. “Wanted to see if you could score off the ice too?”

Sidney opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it again, realizing there was no easy way to explain himself. “Maybe,” he admitted after a moment. “But not like that.”

Your expression softened slightly, though you tried to keep your guard up. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it, “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.”

“Maybe you could try harder then,” you suggested, your voice tinged with challenge.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You smirked, finally allowing him the satisfaction of a small smile. “So I’ve heard.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the tensions between you shifted into something else—something warmer, Sidney found himself leaning in, drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. But just as he was about to close the distance, you pulled back, placing a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m not looking for anything more than tonight,” you said firmly, your gaze steady on his.

He nodded, slowly, understanding what you were saying, but not entirely sure he could accept it. “Neither am I,” he lied.

You saw through it, but didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your lips slightly against his in a kiss that was more a test than a promise. You smiled, a real smile this time, and it was like a punch to his gut. “Good. Then let’s keep it simple.”

He reached out to push a strand from your face, his fingers lingering longer than they should have, “Simple’s good.

You pulled away, your gaze never leaving his as you brushed your hair over your shoulder. “Then let’s get out of here.”

———

The atmosphere in the elevator was thick with tension, the kind that had been building since the moment your eyes first mentioned. You guys had barely made it inside before the doors slid shut, and the confined space only seems to amplify the electricity between you. The second the doors closed, all acts were dropped.

His hands were on you before you could even take a breath, his strong fingers gripping your waist, pulling you against him. You responded immediately, your hand sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, before wrapping around his neck to pull him down to your level. Your lips crashed together in a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue, like you both had been holding back for far too long.

There was no gentleness in the way you both moved, only raw, unrestrained desire. Sidney’s hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His hands were rough as they slid up your thighs, hiking your dress around your waist, his fingers brushing against the lacy edge of your panties. You moaned softly against his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding you slick and ready. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he began to stroke you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug deep into his clothed shoulders, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from crying out.

“Sidney,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need as he pressed his thumb against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. The sounds coming from you were obscene, a mix of moans and whimpers that echoed off the walls of the small elevator.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Sidney groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you come undone beneath his touch. His fingers quickened their pace, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The elevator seemed to crawl up to his floor, each second stretching out in agonizing anticipation. Sid growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against you in a way that made your knees weak. Before you could fall over that edge, the elevator dinged, signaling the arrival on his floor. Sidney pulled his hand away leaving you panting and on the verge of begging. The smug grin on his face told you he knew what he was doing to you, and it only made you want him more.

As soon as the doors opened, Sidney pulled you out into the hallway, barely giving you time to adjust to the change before he was on you again. You stumbled down the hallway, hands fumbling with clothes as you went. You gasped as Sidney pushed you up against a wall, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

“Baby,” you breathed, your voice a mix of need and impatience as you tugged at the buttons of his shirt, trying to pull it off of him. He laughed, a dark, sinful sound that sent a thrill down your spine as he leaned back just enough to rip the shirt open himself.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for you again, this time hooking a hand around your thigh to hook your leg up around his waist. You didn’t bother with a response, instead letting out a soft moan as you felt the hard length of him pressing against you. Your dress was riding up, barely covering anything at this point, and he took full advantage, his hands slipping under the fabric to squeeze your ass, pulling you even closer.

“Room,” you managed to gasp, your voice strained with the effort of holding yourself together. “We need to get to the room.”

Sidney grunted in agreement, but didn’t release you. Instead, he adjusted his hold on you, practically lifting you off the ground as he continued down the hallway, his lips never leaving yours. You barely made it to the door before he was pinning you against it, his fingers digging into your hips as he rubbed against you, the friction making you both groan.

It took a moment to fumble for the keycard in his pocket, and you used the opportunity to suck on his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural sound from him that made your pulse race. Finally, he managed to get the door open, practically shoving it with his shoulder as he carried you inside.

The door slammed harshly behind you, but neither of you seemed to notice. You were too busy tearing at each other’s clothes, a frantic urgency consuming you as you both stumbled further into the room. Sid’s jacket hit the floor, followed by your dress, which he practically ripped off of you in his haste to get you naked. You weren’t far behind, your hands working feverishly to unbuckle his belt, pushing his pants down until they pooled at his feet.

You barely made it to the bed. Sidney’s hands were everywhere, exploring, gripping, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your breath caught as he lowered you onto the mattress, his body covering yours in an instant. The kisses between you were hungry, desperate, filled with a need that neither of you could contain.

“Jesus,” Sid growled, his voice thick with desire as he kissed a trail down your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. You arched into him, your nails raking down his back as you urged him on, needing more, needing him.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he settled between them, the hard length of him pressing against your core. “Now,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of urgency and need. “I need you now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the base of his cock, guiding himself to your opening. The first push was slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you. Your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into his back as you arched beneath him, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Fuck, Y/N” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot inside that made you cry out.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your body rocking with each of his thrusts. The intensity of it, the way he moved inside of you, almost too much to bear, Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your moans echoing in the room as he drove into you, his pace relentless.

It didn’t take long before he flipped you over, your stomach pressed against the mattress as he positioned himself behind you. He gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrust forward, the new angle sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to the headboard, gripping it tightly for support as he fucked you from behind, his movements rough and demanding.

You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you so completely, the way his hands dug into your hips, anchoring you to him, The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin against skin, filled the room, mingling with both of your moans and gasps. It was messy, it was intense, it was exactly what you both needed.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Sidney groaned his voice deep and raspy, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release, driving you both to the brink

“Oh my god I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, ready to snap. “Fuck.”

With a low growl, Sid pulled you up so that your back was flush against his chest, one his arms wrapped around you, with the other wrapped around your throat, as he continued to thrust from behind. “You take it so well,” he whispered in your ear. The new position sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling. You cried out his name, your release coating his cock creating wet sounds as he continued to move inside of you drawing out your release. “That’s right baby,” he coaxed as your head rolled back onto his shoulder.

But he wasn’t done yet. He turned you around again, pulling you on top of him as he lay back on the bed. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest as you sank down onto him, taking him in fully. The position gave you full control, and you didn’t waste it. You began to ride him, your movements slow at first, savoring the way he felt inside of you, before picking up the pace. “Good girl, holy fuck,” he breathed out.”

Sidney’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you rode him, his eyes locked on yours. The sight of you above him, head thrown back in pleasure, breasts bouncing about was almost enough to send him over the edge. He thrust up to meet you, matching your pace, the tension in his body building to an almost unbearable level.

“Y/n,” he gasped, his voice strained as he felt himself getting closer. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—“

“Do it,” you urged, your own voice breathless as you rode him harder, pushing you both to the edge. The sound of your bodies moving together, the feel of him inside of you, was enough to tip you over again, your second orgasm hitting you with just as much force as the first. Your body clenched around him, and that was all Sidney needed.

With a low, guttural groan, Sidney came, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. He spilled into you, his hips jerking with intensity as he rode out the waves of pleasure. You continued to move above him, milking every last drop until you were both spent. bodies trembling with exhaustion.

You pulled yourself off of him, a mix of both of your juices dripped from out of you and onto his dick, causing him to throw his head back against the pillows. You collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, both of your breath heavy as you tried to catch your breath. The room was filled with the sounds of labored breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you lay there together, spent and satisfied. Your head rested against his chest, the rapid beating of his heart a steady rhythm beneath your ear. For a moment, you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your intense night together.

Finally, he turned his head in your direction, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light of the room. There was as softness in your gaze now, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before, and it tugged at something deep inside him. He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, his earlier roughness replaced with something almost tender.

“Stay,” he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure why he said it—he’d never been the type to ask someone to stay the night—but with you, it felt different. Like maybe this could be more than just a one-night thing.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to figure out what he really meant. But then you smiled, a small, almost sad smile, and shook your head no. Sidney felt a pang of disappointment, but he didn’t push. He knew better than to ask for more than what was being offered, especially when it was clear you had your reasons. So he just nodded, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before pulling you fully into his arms.

“This was supposed to be simple,” you whispered, your voice still tinged with the remnants of shared passion.

Sid chuckled softly, his hands brushing through your hair. “Simple doesn’t seem to be our style, eh?”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your gaze searching his. ”We both know this doesn’t change anything, right?”

He nodded, though there was a part of him that wasn’t entirely convinced. “Right.”

You fell asleep like that, tangled together in the sheets, your bodies warm and tired.

———

Sidney woke up to the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the curtains. He stretched, reaching out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand brushed over the cool cheeks, a strange feeling settled in his chest—a mix of confusion and something else, something he wasn’t ready to name. He could almost feel you there, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin.

Blinking against the light, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around the room. It was quiet, and the space beside him was untouched, as if no one had ever been there.

For a moment, he thought maybe he’d imagined it, that night you shared was just a vivid dream. But the faint scent of your perfume still lingered in the air, and the tousled sheets were evidence enough that you had been there, at least for a while.

He sat up fully, running a hand through his hair as he tried to piece together what had happened. Everything from the night before came rushing back—the charged banter, the undeniable chemistry, the way you’d felt around him, responding to his every touch. It had been intense, passionate, and for a brief moment, it had felt like more than just a short connection. He stared mindlessly at the floor, his mind replaying every moment, every touch, every moan. The sheets still smelled like you, and the memory of your body pressed against his was still fresh in his mind.

But now you were gone, and with you, the warmth and closeness that had enveloped him during those hours together. Sidney frowned, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. You must have left early, slipping out before he’d even had a chance to wake up.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’d never been one for long goodbyes, especially when it came to flings. It was easier to keep things casual, to let it be what it was without any lingering complications.

But this felt different. The empty space beside him was a harsh reminder that you had made the decision to leave before he even had a chance to say anything. And that stung, more than he wanted to admit. As the silence settled around him, he realized that something had shifted inside him.

For the first time in a long while, Sidney felt something beyond just the physical satisfaction that usually followed a night like this. The sex had been incredible, that much was clear. But there was a nagging emptiness, a gnawing sense that what you shared wasn’t as casual as you both wanted to believe.

Sidney swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up as he tried to shake off the strange sense of loss. He told himself it was better this way—clean, simple, no strings attached. That’s what you agreed on, after all. You were gone, and he was alone. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he tried to center himself. He had to get a grip—this was just another night, another woman, and life would go on as it always did.

But as he moved around the room, gathering his clothes and getting dressed, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that he wasn’t ready for it to be over. Not yet. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly. Sid’s heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, unfolding it to reveal a short, handwritten note.

“Thanks for the night. Let’s keep it uncomplicated :) -Y/N”

Sidney stared at the note for a long moment,the words echoing in his mind. “Uncomplicated.” That’s what you wanted, what you had both agreed to. But now as he read your words, he couldn’t help but feel that things were far more complicated than either of you had anticipated. As he stood there, staring at the note, he knew you had left a mark on him, one that he couldn’t easily erase. The memory of you, of the way you had looked at him with those challenging eyes, would stay with him. Whether he liked it or not, you had gotten under his skin.

With a sigh, he tucked the note into his pocket, trying to push the thought from his mind. You were gone, and that was supposed to be the end of it. But deep down, Sidney hoped this wasn’t over. There was something between you, something that couldn’t be so easily dismissed. But he had a life to get back to, a routine that didn’t include him moping over women who left before dawn.

And as he left the room, closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see you again. And if he did, what the hell he would do about it.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

please do something with peter parker for vday. I miss you writing for him

I started writing this one last year for Valentine's Day...forgive me for the long wait

—

‘’No, you don’t understand, Ned. It needs to be perfect,’’ Peter explained, turning to his best friend for help.

‘’My longest and only relationship lasted about sixty hours, so I’m not really the one to come to for Valentine’s Day gift ideas.’’ 

‘’Uncle Ben always gave May flowers and chocolate.’’ And Peter always tried to steal chocolate from the box. ‘’But Y/N is Mr. Stark’s daughter, I can’t just buy her flowers and chocolate. She’ll think I’m poor.’’ 

‘’Didn’t you tell me this morning that you only have five dollars in your pockets?’’ Ned recalled, taking one of the homemade cookies his lola had put into his lunch bag and taking a bite. There was one for Peter too, but he was too busy worrying and panicking.

Peter groaned and hid his face in his crossed arms, frustrated and desperate. Being broke was a second problem to his Valentine’s Day plan. ‘’What am I gonna do? Valentine’s Day is in two days. I can’t not get her anything.’’ 

‘’If you go back to the roots of Valentine’s Day, it’s about celebrating love. You don’t have to spend money to show someone you love them.’’ Peter opened his mouth, but Ned spoke first. ‘’Even if she’s a Stark and bathes in money,’’ he added. ‘’She didn’t fall in love with you because of your economic status, she fell in love because of who you are.’’

On the big day, Peter set everything up in his living room. May was on a date with Happy, so he had the apartment to himself — until 10pm. He didn’t have a projector, so he made one with a shoebox and a magnifying glass, and hung a sheet to one of the walls to turn into a screen. He made cheese pastas and brought over the single chocolate cupcake he was able to afford. 

He was nervous, constantly checking his phone waiting for your ‘I’m here’ text. When he finally got it, Peter rushed to the door, smoothing his button up and fixing his hair before opening. If he was this nervous for Valentine’s Day, he didn’t want to imagine the nervous wreck he would be at his wedding. 

Not that he was planning on getting married anytime soon. 

‘’Happy Valentine’s Day,’’ you said with a smile on your glossy lips. 

Peter said the words back and let you in, gulping when his eyes fell on the small gift bag you were holding. You set it down on the table to take off your coat and boots, revealing a pink sweater and a sparkly necklace that cost probably more than anything in May's apartment.

You followed Peter to the living room, excitement bubbling in your stomach when seeing the frozen image of your favorite rom-com projected on the wall.  ‘’You made this?’’ 

Peter gave you a small nod. Projectors were easy to make. He learned how in a science book for kids when he was nine. May was so impressed when he showed her his ‘magic box’. 

‘’It’s not much, but—’’ he started to say, but you shut him up with a kiss. 

‘’Stop it,’’ you said, guessing his train of  thoughts. ‘’This is the best Valentine’s Day gift ever.’’ 

You never had another valentine before him — beside the little boys in middle school who sent you cards and heart lollipops  —, but Peter’s gift came from the heart. It was thoughtful and personal, therefore meant a lot to you. 

After eating the pastas, you handed Peter the gift bag. He was nervous just from holding it. 

He slowly pulled out the festive tissue papers and groaned when seeing a red and blue plush toy. ‘’Spiderman? Really?’’ Peter made an annoyed face. He didn't want to come off as ungrateful, but he was getting tired of the jokes with the Spiderman merch he had no control over. 

‘’Press his chest,’’ you instructed, ignoring his complaints.

Peter gave you a confused look, but listened. ‘’I love you, my Spidey,’’ the toy said.

You watched his expressions shift from confusion to surprise, Peter’s eyes widening when he recognized the sound of your voice. A genuine smile spread across his face, the small plush taking a whole other meaning. ‘’That's your voice,’’ he whispered, still holding the talking Spiderman plush. 

You nodded, the sparks in Peter’s eyes telling you that no expensive gift could have matched this one. He was truly touched. ‘’I know you don’t like when I get you expensive things, so I didn’t get you a new watch,’’ you explained, thinking back at the Cartier watch you hesitated on last week. He would have hated it. 

Turning toward you, Peter enveloped you in a hug to properly thank you. 

Your arms wrapped around him in return. ‘’Even when I’m not with you, you’ll always have something to remind you that I love you.’’ 

—

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[cherry-leclerc]

red diamond ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, arthistory!reader

word count: 2.8k

The story of when you and Carlos met and how the mutual connection of art takes you two on a pleasing journey that will leave you realizing a thing or two.

req!... i did a bit of touch ups from the request i got but i hope that anon doesn't mind AHH. hope you guys like it :)

“No, no, no! Ritorno! Per favore!” 

Gasping for air, you curl over as you groan in frustration. Punching your bag, you watch lamely as the cab drives away. It was your own fault - you had overslept - but you seriously thought you would make it on time. You moved to Italy a few months ago to study Art History in one of the most prestigious universities. But along with that, there were lots of things being asked from you; volunteering in museums, endless essays, and ridiculous research that even had you second guessing your choices. 

“Stai bene?” 

Spinning around, you make eye contact with a tall man who secretly made your blood run cold. You shiver as you nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would just leave you alone. But he doesn’t budge, he only digs a single hand into his pocket. Your stomach drops.

“Am I about to get mugged?”

“What?” 

Chewing on your bottom lip, you point out his all black outfit and how creepily he kept his hand hidden from plain sight. Bright pink colors his cheeks as he instantly raises his arms up in defense. God no! Oh sh- I’m sorry, he squeaks as he winces. You let out a breath of relief as you rub your arms to help keep warm. 

“Do I look like a thief or something?”

Scanning the empty road, you squint as you try your best to find another ride. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea you’ve had to go to the Sistine Chapel at night. “Or something.” He softly laughs. Shimming out of his sweater, he shyly hands it over. “That’s very nice of you, but it’s okay. You’ll get cold.”

“I won’t. Plus, you’re shivering so much that I can hear your teeth chattering. Seriously, take it.” Instead of telling him no, you decide against it since you were two seconds away from getting frostbite. Grazie, you whisper as you tug the sweater over your head. He looks away as soon as your arms swing up and allows him to get a good glimpse of your white lingerie. “What are you doing out alone so late at night?”

Warming your hands deep inside the hoodies pockets, you respond, “I was trying to get a lift to the museum. I have to take some notes for a lecture I have tomorrow morning. I was supposed to go a whole lot earlier, but my nap was longer than I had intended.” He glances at you for a moment before jingling his keys up. You raise a brow.

“Can’t reassure you that the museum will still be open at a time like this, but I could offer you a ride back home.”

Agreeing turned out to be the best thing you could have ever done. Turns out Carlos drove for a living - whatever that means; he had been suspiciously blunt with it - but long before, he had actually studied Art History himself back in Spain. Ever so kindly, he had helped you research about The Creation of Adam. You were extremely impressed when he kept naming facts from the top of his head.

Shutting your notebook, you sheepishly shake your head. “You just saved me from embarrassment in front of my professor. She could be a bit mean when we don’t get our stuff done. Typical Italians.”

“Not all Italians are like that.”

“Sure.” Pause. “But she is.” He nods as he points towards your main entrance. Clapping your hands, you leap up from your couch. “Thanks again for all the help. I really appreciate it. I also appreciate that you didn’t turn out to be some murderer.” He squints his eyes teasingly.

“Thief or murderer, which one is it?” 

“Preferably neither.” You open the door slowly as he steps out. “See you around, Carlos.”

“Of course.”

-

A few weeks later, you’re in a complete hurry. You had overslept, again, and it was looking as if you weren’t going to make it to class on time. You mumble a line of curses at the clear image of Professor Clara lecturing you for the thousandth time. It didn’t help either the way your key got jammed at your quick attempt to lock the door. 

“For fucks sake-”

“Need help?”

“Merda!” You drop your coffee as you spin around with a hand over your stomach from the sudden shock. The familiar brunette cringes as he bends down to pick up your thermo. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He carefully takes your bag from your arm. “I just thought-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off as you share a tight lipped smile. “It’s nice to see you, but I don’t have time for this. I’m late as it is.”

“Typical Italians.”

Your mouth drops open as you snatch your things back from him. “For your information, I am not Italian. Also, what are you doing here?” He beams.

“I have a favor to ask.”

Straightening your posture, you chirp as you take him by the hand towards his car. “Me too. Can I have a ride?”

You knew he’d agree. What you didn’t know was how excited he was to be near your presence. From the moment he first saw you he felt a sort of attraction that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Yes, you were breathtakingly beautiful but there was something about your aura. Everything about you made him crave more. He felt so stupid that it took him this long to see you again.

“Sooo. What do you need?”

“Right.” Turning on his blinker, he quickly glances at the GPS. “Are you free later?”

“Way to make a girl feel special.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “It’s just that there’s this painting…” When he notices your lost expression, he taps his finger desperately against the wheel. “Doni Tondo. Ever heard of it?” The mention has you buzzing as you nod excitedly. “Of course you do. Anyways, they’re holding an auction up for it. I need you.” 

“You do know I’m a broke college student who lives off of pizza and pasta, right? If you’re looking for money then I’m just going to let you down-”

“Money’s not the issue.” Flashy, you hiss as he smiles. “I have the money, but I need you. I need a date.” Why? He makes a left turn. “Do you know the meaning behind the painting?” You shake your head. “It depicts the importance of family. A healthy marriage.”

“I’m not following…”

The Spaniard becomes distressed as he sees you’re getting closer to your destination. He presses down on the brake a bit. “They want couples. Wealthy couples. Someone who they know that if they buy this piece of art then it’s going to be in good hands. That it’s going to continue serving its purpose.” He turns to you as he cocks his head a bit. “I need it as a birthday present for my mother. She’s been wanting it for ages and…Please.”

Putting the car in park right in front of the university entrance, he hopes to find an answer in your face as you keep it blank. Instead, you gather your things as you step out of his car. A delicate hand waves for him to roll the shiny window down.

“Pick me up at 8.”

-

“This is coconuts! I’ve never been inside of the Uffizi Gallery,” you whisper-shout as you cling onto his arm. He smiles down at you as he leads you to the small group of potential buyers. There were six in total - making it more intimate and scary. You were scared. His warm hand makes its way to cradle your face as he leans down to kiss your temple. You physically melt.

“It only costs a couple of euros.”

“You’re killing the vibe,” you groan as you pinch his cheek. He shrugs as he hushes you. Enzo, the coordinator, does a quick introduction with a cheerful voice. Everyone else seems to be listening just to listen, but you and Carlos were picking up on all of it like a sponge. “He’s a genius.” You stare in awe. The brunette stifles a laugh. He’s not the one who created these paintings, you know that, right? You throw a deadpanned glare. “You’re killing it,” you remind him. He pokes his tongue out.

“Why don’t we get started, shall we?” 

The rich are animals - you come up with that conclusion quick enough. The sum that flies past their lips has you gawking as you hide behind the Spaniards tall figure. €50,000, a man yells with a blonde clinging onto his arm with a wide grin. You choke. 

“Anyone willing to go for more than €50,000?”

“€100,000.”

Spinning your head to face Carlos, you have to stop yourself from calling it off. It wasn’t like it was your money anyways. Mrs. BotchedUpBoobsButThinksItsNormal grows red as she whispers to the bald man. He nods. €150,000! 

“€240,000.”

“What?” Distangling your arm from his, you freeze as you feel your fake ring fly off your ring finger. Carlos had slipped in on you - he wore a matching one - as a way to make you both look more of a real couple. A nervous laugh bubbles out of you as you clumsily run over to where it lies. “My apologies!” Enzo bends down before handing it to you. Mio Dio! What a diamond! Red and rare!

Walking over to you both, Carlos takes it from him as he slips it back onto your hand. “Good eye.” But Enzo is basically drooling as he takes your hand to analyze it. 

“I’ve never seen one so up close and personal! Very exquisite! You must feel extremely lucky, tesoro!” 

“Very,” you cheer as you pull your hand away. “How about we get back to it? Excuse my interruption-”

“So, where did he propose?”

“Sistine Chapel.”

Your cheeks burn up from his words. That was where you were trying to get to the first night you two met. To take notes of Michelangelo’s, The Creation of Adam. Much like now, you two were on a mission to retreat Michelangelo's, Doni Tondo. Enzo swoons as he shakes the Spaniards hand.

“Stravagante! What a love story! I could tell - feel - the chemistry between you two. It’s real.”

“Oh, we’re not-”

“Not used to getting such high compliments from someone like you!” Carlos cuts you off as he tugs you closer, large hand laying over your hip. You shiver. He points to the painting. “What do you say?”

“Sold to Mr. and Mrs. Sainz!”

-

A whole crew follows in black SUV’s as they carry the painting to Carlos’s home, after Enzo had insisted it should be done that same day. Extending your hand out, you admire the ring. “You said it was fake.”

“Did I? I must have forgotten.”

Turning your body to face him, you place a hand on his upper thigh. His body stiffens as he clenches his jaw and squeezes his hands tight against the steering wheel. You let out a cough as you shyly pull away. 

“You should have told me. I would have been more careful. Especially since it belongs to your mother.”

“Except it doesn’t anymore.”

Your brows pull in together as your bottom lip starts to wobble. “Did she die?” Taking in your glossy eyes, he shakes his head as he laughs. 

“She’s fine.” He doesn’t say much after that as he pulls into a fancy driveway. Jesus, you squeal. He unclicks your seat belt. “My parents are over for the holidays. They’re taking the painting with them when they leave back to Spain. Come meet them.”

You must be in some sort of trance because you let him take you by your hand as he leads you towards the mansion. You wonder why, but when you remember there’s people still around with the painting, you wrap your fingers tighter against his.

“Perfect. Grazie.” The 29 year old admires as he takes a step back to take in the painting. It was gorgeous. You were starting to get jealous that it belonged to someone else. The group of men share a quick exchange of goodbyes before scurrying out the door. Walking back to you, he taps his shoe against your heel. “What do you think?” You scrunch your nose.

“Meh.”

He spins to face you. “You’re crazy. It’s beautiful.” He looks at you as you stare up at the wall where Doni Tondo hangs. He shudders. Tickling your waist he says, “Admit it. Say you love it.” You shake your head as you giggle. I’ve seen better. He gapes. “Liar!”

“I’m not lying.”

He books it to you as you squeal and try to not trip over your dress as you run away. Grabbing you by the waist, he spins you. Admit it! “No,” you wheeze as you grow dizzy and yet don’t want the moment to end. You pull on his bow that matches with the rest of his expensive tux. “I’m going to throw up if you don’t let go!”

“¿Estamos interrumpiendo?” 

Pushing Carlos off harshly, the ring flies off your finger for the second time that night. You swallow a curse as you look up to an older couple. They smile fondly. Though you haven't met them before, you are able to quickly identify them as the Spaniards parents. Blood rushes to your face. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” You take a step towards them as you extend your hand. They both shake it as they bring you in for a hug. You let out a small umph. Once they pull away, you pick up the ring from the floor. “I am so sorry about dropping your ring! I know it belongs to you. Carlos told me it was fake and if I had known, then I wouldn’t have flung my hand-”

“Don’t you worry, cariño - it doesn’t belong to me anymore.” Told you, Carlos interrupts. You scowl at him before handing it back to Reyes. She shakes her head as she covers your hands with hers. “Keep it.”

“But that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.” You twirl around as you hand it to Carlos. “Somebody take it, please.” He stares back blankly and you could tell he’s about to say the same thing, but his mother’s words make him take it from you. It’s okay, Carlos. Hesitantly, he obeys. You let out a breath of relief. 

Forcing himself to shake off the bitter feeling, he points up at the painting. “Lo hice. ¿Les gusta?” Reyes and Carlos Sr. nod as they hug each other. Nos encanta. She directs her attention back to you.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” 

And it was. It was the true depiction of a family. Carlos frowns. “You said it was okay.” Discreetly, you pinch his hip. He yelps. 

“I was only joking, you should know that.” A beat. “I think it's one of the prettiest paintings I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I’m so jealous that you two get to keep it,” you joke as they laugh. Carlos Sr. wags his finger.

“It’s not ours.” What? You and Carlos slump as you look at each other with as much confusion as shock. The older couple laughs. “It was never going to be ours, but we needed a good enough reason for Carlos to pull the trigger. He’s been talking about this painting for as long as we can remember. Isn’t that right?” Reyes nods.

“I knew that if I said I wanted it then he would get it. Either way, if he didn’t buy it then we would have bought it for him.” She walks up closer to you both. “This painting is not just a pretty sight - it’s also the raw interpretation of love. When two people fall in love, things become so crystal clear that it almost has you wondering if you’ve lost your mind. You start to learn that a family is one of the most important things and what better way than to form that with your other half. Marriage is a sacred thing - and sure, it's scary - but it’s very well worth it. You’ll see.”

Her words make your stomach twist as you catch Carlos’ reaction through your peripheral vision. It sort of looked as if he was having some sort of epiphany as he nodded attentively at his parents. For some odd reason, the image of him starting a family of his own with some random woman makes your head hurt. 

“ A few adjustments may be needed, but I have a feeling this ring will find its way to the right girl. Don’t you think, Carlitos?”

Carlos’ eyes flicker to yours as you look back at him. The connection had always been there, but something felt different. Scarily secure. Neither of you were brave enough to ask if this was something you were both feeling. Not yet, at least.

“I think it will.”

[bitdemonic]

date. april 8th, 2023

time. 8:59pm

—❝𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃.❞

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬. FUTURESPOUSEPAC . . . a message from them.

𝐚𝐢𝐝. if the images above are too hard to differentiate between your intuition, use ‘pile 1, 2, 3, or 4’ for the choice selection instead. this reading has four piles. pic not included.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫. 18+ content—no minors. please remember, this post is just for shits and giggles. use the best of your discernment, pinch that grain of salt. and although i write under the impression that majority of this content’s viewers are women, i do read for feminine and masculine energies. if needed to, please flip the roles as reversed for an accurate message. hope this reading is useful, but not for plagiarism bitch. enjoy.❦

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞

🃏 movement retrograde. sweetness retrograde. faith. rest.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “i want it whenever i can get it. idc who’s around, i don’t give two shits about who’s looking. you’re the only person i ever want to have and knowing that i can have it? whenever we want? broad day, pitch black at night, at a park, at a concert, in the car it doesn’t matter and it never will. im going to shove my dick so far into you it’s going to come out of your mouth, that’s how carnal i am for you. my soul burns for you, im running off of petroleum gas at this very moment. you’re a diamond in the fucking rough. i mean, the faces you make when you cum are just . . . im so pleased, so blessed to have you as mine. to call you my lover, my one and only—not many have the pleasure of doing so, but i do.”

✞—. “i’d run ass naked up and down the street just to proclaim my feelings for you. you’re divine, you’re special, you make my crotch tight and my cheeks warm. i’d fuck you for hours upon hours, just to hear your moans. the same moans that remind me of the melody to a favorite song, the one i’ll keep on repeat because i never want them to end. keep your eyes open during sex, i want you to watch me have my way with you. to see the things i do to your body, the same things that make your insides twitch. moving back and forth, up and down, all around and through nirvana just to end it all in rehab. you’ll never want me to go, and i never will. i’ll even stay inside for a few minutes after, because i don’t want to leave us either.”

✞—. “i love you, but above that i lust eternally for you. love is nothing for us, but only because it was always a given—i’ll never stop loving you. it’s just during sex, the way i want to give all of my strength and trust into it, that’s something vulnerable for me. something different and new. but i’m willing to share that, without complaint too, because you’re mine. one person made special just for me, it’s natural that i show my appreciation. i want you to feel the way i feel for you, but through my actions more than my words. understand our connection with each act of pleasure i bring upon you, so on and so forth.”

✞—. “i’m always available to make love, to fuck—to tangle the sheets and wring out the perspiration from our bodies. making you cum constantly—endlessly, without losing stamina and without the thought of it having to end. scream for me, cry for me, moan for me—most of all, cum for me. do all those things and more doll, and promise to never stop.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨

🃏 passion retrograde. creativity. abundance. confidence.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “give me that pussy. that sweet, tight, warm cunt. i want it all over me—my face, my thigh, hell even my stomach, i don’t mind my love. i’ll be gentle, whether that’s taking it nice and slow or hard and fast—whatever pace you need. don’t ever be afraid to tell me what you desire, or better yet, take control of me because it’s yours. my cock has your name printed on it in red ink, signed by yours truly.”

✞—. “the sight when you’re naked, the swell of your breasts down to the curve of your thighs, it makes my heart clench. even the tips of your feet get me going. never stop riding me, lock your legs around my waist and bounce on me all damn day. cum in my mouth, cum on my clothes, cum on my fucking face—i’ll eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. you’re gorgeous, but even more so outside of the sex. i don’t care what people say, i don’t give a damn about what they think either. it’s you that i want and i want you right here, right fucking now.”

✞—. “strip for me, baby. pull off your shirt as i watch with my thick cock in hand. unclasp your bra, slide the straps from your shoulders, let it tumble to the floor. i’ll gasp at the gentle bounce of your breast, in awe at their beauty, before attacking them with my mouth. you’re my inspiration, the blueprint of the world’s desires. made for us—we all want a part of your essence to bring home for bragging rights. want to see your body shine under the spotlight, showcasing as aphrodite’s favorite, nothing but glitter and gold. on display as heaven’s angel. stand just like that so you’ll never fall.”

✞—. “show the others what they’ll never touch, the parts of you that they’ll only be able to dream of. the same parts that i’ve been trusted enough to feel, to love and appreciate. yes . . . like that baby, don’t stop. show me how much of a blessing it is to have the emulation of a goddess at arms length. how much of an honor it is, keeping the place that’d be gone and up for grabs if you decided to cut me loose. i won’t fuck this up, at least not again. i know what i have, and i’ll always need it in order to survive. you.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

🃏 happiness. intuition. magic retrograde. illumination retrograde.

[tw — somnophilia] this is a channeled scenario from your person but if this theme isn’t comfortable for reading i suggest choosing another pile!

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “i watch you sleep, you know. it’s hard not to, hearing the soft breaths escape your lips as the shadow of peace drapes upon your face. bathed in the comfort of being home, you’re content at last. sleeping, embracing the idea that nothing could interrupt the state of winding down. nothing at all—except me. fingers tracing along the hem of your underwear, dancing across the design pattern, before pulling the band of them and letting it pop against your skin. it’s kinda funny—more adorable if anything, the flutter of your lashes at the slight sting below your abdomen.”

✞—. “i do this all the time, or at least when it’s essential. when we’re both aware of how much you need it, i’ll tease away the sleepiness until it’s desolate and gone. you’d never guess it was real, the heat from an open mouth as it warms the center of your panties. that same mouth, dampening the fabric before placing sloppy kisses along the seams. you’ll whimper, tossing and rubbing as you’re mindlessly wondering what the hell kind of dream is this? why does it feel extra real, and why are your hands thrashing to grip at the pillows?”

✞—. “mmm, mmhm,” will fall from the lush of your lips, disrupting the quiet of the night with natural reaction. you’re spurring me on, you little minx. encouraging me to keep going, urging me to fuck with your innocence some more. to turn vulnerability into utter rapture. and i will baby, of course i will. you’ll be conscious at this point, blinking more than twice for obvious reasons, seconds before your face turns into disbelief and tempted half lids. feels good, doesn’t it? i know it does, you don’t even need to utter a word—that moan’ll suffice.”

✞—. “teasing becomes eating, eating until we’re impatient for the rest, until you’re frustrated from not being stuffed full with the other parts. oh yeah, baby—you’re definitely awake now. up and at ‘em, waiting for me to finish what’s began, waiting for me to send your precious body to sleep once more.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

🃏 caution retrograde. trust. isolation retrograde. mystery.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “our kisses, the taste itself, intoxicate the sobriety of my mind. your mouth, placing the sweetest of sins against mine. i’m left to fend for myself, to stand on trembling legs, stumbling around the reality that is us—proceeding with caution. those lips, diluted in gloss or whatever else that has them shining brighter than a star. drenched in angel dust, sprinkled from the fingers of God himself, urging me to come and get blessed. and blessed i be, for i never want these moments to end.”

✞—. “i can’t stop thinking about those sounds, those kitten mewls that send my brain cells into overdrive. can’t forget the trail of poised hands rubbing and wrapping around my neck to pull me closer. you’re incredible. the sweetest thing since candied apples, just as you’re hell on earth. damn you, damn this feeling. damn the air thickening around us, damn the temperature rising in time with our heartbeats. i feel my chest concave when you go, the same way i feel it inflate when you walk into the room. engulf me with your presence, take me and never let me go—don’t let the others take me from you.”

✞—. “i want to be attached to your hips just as my hands are, how they know where home is when they grab at your waist and pull you in. pushing you against my abdomen to give your own hands some room, to let them run over the hem of my zipper before pulling away. i’d offer to finish the job for you, to fling my shirt and pants to the floor, but that’d ruin the fun wouldn’t it? the fun behind the tease, the persona of being daddy’s girl—spoiled and bratty, naughty not nice.”

✞—. “hard as hell to tame, but that’s the excitement itself. eyes going slender and sultry, bottom lip being bitten, hair tossed to glance over one shoulder—i feel ill, hot flashes and stomach turns, because you’re my kryptonite. tbh, you take all my breath away and funnily enough, i don’t want it back. it’s an eye for an eye, swapping out my oxygen for your full devotion. as long as i’m with you, i’ll never need to breathe again. to have and to hold forever.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

[kiki-smith21]

A Silent Understanding

Wednesday Addams x autistic fem reader

A/N: This is my first fanfic, and any feedback would be appreciated. Let me know if you want a part 2. (I am actually autistic, so this is mostly based off the symptoms I show, but if you have any typical symptoms of autism you wish for me to add to the story later let me know and I'll try my best. Please be respectful to all, and remember to drink water and look after yourself, cuties)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: In the comfort of the library, you and Wednesday share a moment of vulnerability and trust.

In the dimly lit, Gothic confines of Nevermore Academy, the atmosphere was as thick with mystery as ever. Wednesday Addams, with her signature braids and dark demeanour, was engrossed in her latest endeavor—a particularly challenging crossword puzzle.

You, a quiet student with an affinity for the arts and a mind that danced to a different rhythm, often found solace in the same library where Wednesday spent much of her time. You had always admired her from afar, drawn to her enigmatic presence and unique perspective on the world.

Today, the library was especially silent, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors and the soft rustling of pages. You found a seat at a nearby table, trying to focus on your sketchbook. It was in these rare, quiet moments that you felt most at peace, your thoughts flowing freely without the need for words.

As the hours ticked by, you noticed Wednesday glancing over her crossword with a hint of frustration. Summoning your courage, you approached her table, clutching a folded piece of paper in your hand.

"Do you need help with that?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart raced as you waited for her response, unsure if you had intruded on her solitary work.

Wednesday looked up, her dark eyes meeting yours with a flicker of curiosity. "And why would you offer assistance?" she asked, her tone a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

"I noticed you were having trouble with a few clues," you replied, hoping your voice conveyed the sincerity you felt. "I've always been good with puzzles."

A faint, inscrutable smile tugged at the corners of Wednesday’s lips. "Very well. Let's see if your skills are as impressive as you claim."

You settled into the seat beside her, your nerves calming as you began to work through the crossword clues together. The process was slow but rewarding, each shared glance and whispered suggestion deepening the connection between you.

As the final word fit perfectly into the grid, Wednesday's gaze lingered on you. "You did well," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Thank you."

The library was quiet, save for the faint hum of the old heating system. In this serene bubble, you felt an unexpected urge to express something you had been holding back. You reached for the folded piece of paper you had brought, unfolding it to reveal a simple drawing of a crescent moon—an image that had always felt comforting to you.

Wednesday’s eyes softened as she studied the drawing, and for a moment, you both simply sat in silence. It was a moment of unspoken understanding.

Without quite knowing how it happened, your hand found its way to Wednesday’s, fingers brushing lightly against hers. The contact was gentle but electric, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

Wednesday’s gaze met yours, her expression inscrutable yet filled with something tender. Slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a hesitant, yet warm kiss. It was a soft, fleeting moment that spoke volumes, a shared silence that encapsulated everything words could not.

When you finally pulled away, Wednesday’s eyes were still locked onto yours, a rare and genuine smile playing on her lips. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little corner of understanding.

As you both sat there, the unspoken connection between you felt more profound than any words could ever convey. It was a silent promise of something more, a shared moment of intimacy that marked the beginning of something beautiful.

[nepherit]

Justice for Raphael

I'm very new to Tumblr, I created an account here a few months ago after I discovered all the amazing Bg3-related art content that this place has to offer. Since then, I've never posted a single thing and barely left any comments, I'm not a very social person...but today I was scrolling my favorite bg3-related feed, when I stumbled upon a post of someone who received a rather rude ask from an anon whose sole purpose was to mock their works and insult their (possibly) favorite character Raphael, who was referred to by that anon as a "100% canon two pump chump bottom cringe clown". 

It is saddening to get yet another confirmation that some people out there aren't capable of respecting others' likes, not even in a fictional/virtual environment...but I guess that's to be expected. Besides the obvious, what made me decide to write this wall of text as my very first post is that Raphael happens to be my favorite too, the one and only fictional character I've ever felt invested in, and probably the reason why Bg3 will leave a life-long lasting impression on me.

So here I am, trying my best to point out some facts that (apparently) are easy to go amiss for some people out here:   First of all, there's nothing canon regarding what Haarlep says of Raphael, as a character's opinion about another isn't a fact to begin with. Especially if said character is (proved by facts) very unreliable as a source: him being an incubus whose standards are undoubtedly different from any mortals' and the fact that he hates Raphael are but the most obvious. Not to mention that "Speak with the dead" isn't 100% reliable either by D&D 5e rules ("the corpse is under no compulsion to offer a truthful answer if you are hostile to it or it recognizes you as an enemy"). Besides that, even if everything Haarlep says is to be considered true, the mocking words the players can say to Raphael before the fight are NOT, as Haarlep never gives such info to the player (he only responds with a "no" if asked about the matter). That line we can say before the fight is but the player's guess/ childish mockery, certainly it's not a fact.

From a purely objective perspective, the only info Haarlep gives to the player that isn't merely his opinion is Raphael's obvious selfishness and narcissism (the HoH is covered with images of him) and the fact that he likely only sleeps with himself (he has his incubus wearing his shape, even his name). By no means does that make Raphael a "cringe clown", nor would it even in the case where Haarlep spoke entirely the truth. Honestly, it never ceases to baffle me how some people can be so shortsighted and shallow. But perhaps those people are yet to grow up and come to learn that there can be much hidden beneath someone's (fictional or not) behavior. There's nothing to mock about the "Raphael only wants to sleep with himself and only loves himself" statement. 

How could it be otherwise? How, when the only person who ever loved Raphael, the only one he could trust and rely on since his birth, was himself? How could he crave someone's affection and so, be seen as weak? How could he care for another or their feelings when he never got that care or respect, to begin with? Despite his theatrics and his facade, Raphael was born Cambion, a half-breed never to be considered more than the lesser of the devils in the hierarchy of the Hells. Cambions cannot rank up, no matter their blood ties, yet Raphael managed to achieve all that he has...his palace, his many souls, and his power. None of that was gifted to him, he fought hard and earned every last bit of it with his claws, his wits, and his determination. I admire Raphael for that, for striving to become something greater than what he was supposed to be...something better than his father's "half-devil" son.

To reduce Raphael, who's most certainly one of the deepest and most complex characters we can encounter in the game, to a "100% canon two pump chump bottom cringe clown" is beyond low, very immature, and a rather shallow view, more so if it comes from someone who hasn't even had the guts to show their name...

Well, that's all. I doubt someone will make it this far, as I wrote a veeeeery long paragraph. But for once, I wanted to have my say ^^

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Bridal Shop ft Nanami Kento

Rating: 18+, MDNI Warnings: Sex, vaginal and clitoral fingering, oral Featuring: Nanami Kento x female reader Word Count: 2590 Summary: A final dress fitting leads to something else when the bridal shop owner takes over your appointment A/N: All images are from pinterest and are linked at the bottom of the post for credit. Inspiration for the wedding dress was this.

Nanami masterlist

You skipped merrily into the bridal shop, ready for the final fitting. The wedding was only 2 weeks away. A healthy pink glow was visible on your face. Most would say it’s because your wedding day is approaching. Your best friend would tease you that it’s because of the bridal shop owner.

The sweet old woman who had assisted you during your first fitting spots you immediately and waves you over to her. She grasps your hands with wrinkled knotted hands and smiles brightly at you. “Not too long now…You must be very excited!”

“Indeed I am!” You chirp back excitedly. “Will it be a while or…?”

“Not at all! We’re ready for you now. On straight through to the back. Fitting room 2.”

You thank the woman and waltz back into the stall. Not too shortly after the tailor comes in, exchanging warm greetings with you, asking you how wedding planning was going, as she carefully helps you fit into the dress, gently buttoning up the pearl fastenings on the back as she fusses with the skirt, whirling it out around you. Your breath catches as you look at yourself in the mirror.

The dress had been fitted perfectly, the waistline pure perfection to the last millimeter. With the tulle and illusion sleeves, it was like right out of a dream. You feel yourself tear up as you see yourself in the mirror. It was so pretty, beyond your imagination. Ever prepared, the tailor quickly offers you a tissue and a gentle smile. 

“I’ll let you have a moment. Let it all soak in. Let me know when you’re ready to have it taken off.” The tailor exits quietly through the door. You spin around, admiring yourself from all angles. You’re so happy you listened to your fiance when he had insisted on going with this one. 

A fairy tale dress for a princess, he had said. Your smile widens as you do one last twirl. You hear the handle of the fitting room rattle, and turn to tell the tailor you’re ready to change, then freeze when you see who’s standing in the doorway.

Sharp brown eyes look at you with such intensity that you blush. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he takes in the sight of you in your wedding dress. The owner of the bridal shop was quite a striking man, with his physique, styled blonde hair, and impressive height. 

“I wasn’t aware that you visited brides during their fittings.” Your mouth had gone dry. He looked so immaculate in tailored pants and a waistcoat, shirt fitting beautifully to his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing corded, well toned forearms. 

He chuckles at your comment, then steps in, locking the door behind him. Your heart skips a beat and you almost miss his next words over the rush of blood in your ears. 

“Never. But this dress…I have a special affinity for it.”

He stands right behind you, admiring you in the mirror. His eyes rove over the small details of the dress, the little plunge of the neckline, almost modest, between your breasts, the cups of the dress pushing them up flatteringly. 

Nanami Kento was a heartthrob in this locality. Who wouldn’t notice the handsome bridal shop owner? Women were known to wander into the shop to catch a glimpse at him, pretending to be window shopping. Many a bride had blushed as he walked with them through the shop, pulling gowns and asking questions about their dress preferences, giggling as he politely asked to see their rings. 

“Yes…I think this last fitting was much needed. Look at how flattering it looks on your body now.” His large hands softly rest on your waist as you feel rushes of heat run through you. You try your best to not look at the mirror, lest he see how flustered you were getting. His cologne was filling your senses, a deep musky scent that added a forbidden allure. 

“I was right in thinking this lace would look flattering on you.” One of his hands moves towards your front, his long fingers gently tracing the line of fabric near your collarbone, sending skitters of electricity through you. Your heart thumps in your chest as you try to keep your composure.

“Ah…thank you.” You manage to say. “You do have a good eye for what looks best.” You can hear how your voice has taken on a breathy quality and try to focus. You had plans after this, meeting with your bridesmaids for dinner. 

Nanami smiles at your praise, then says, so close to your ear, “Why aren’t you wearing any jewelry today? Apart from your ring I mean.”

His breath makes you tingle with need, making you tongue tied, words stumbling over each other. “I-ah-ahem. Should I be wearing…jewelry?”

“You should. Most brides wear a necklace after a fitting to make sure it doesn’t clash with the neckline.” His fingers creep up from your collarbone to the hollow at the base of your throat and your breath catches. 

“And earrings,” he adds, his other hand abandoning your waist to gently massage your bare earlobe. You feel uncomfortable heat starting to gather between your thighs and resist the urge to lean back against his muscular frame. Your eyes close as he continues to fondle the soft piece of flesh then almost jump out of your skin as his hot breath tickles your other ear.

“Earrings help you figure out if you've chosen the right veil or not.” His lips were practically touching the shell and a strangled gasp leaves your lips.

“You really are the ideal representation of a blushing bride,” Nanami murmurs softly. His hands start to play with your hair, and you swallow, trying to gather the vestiges of your rapidly fading sensibility. 

“Have you decided if you’re wearing your hair up or down?” His fingers swirl the locks of hair flowing down your shoulders, making a loose bun with them at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to process his question, the movements of fingers feeling deliciously seductive. 

“Up.” You didn’t trust yourself to say another word.

He nods, leaning forward to look over your shoulder into the mirror. “I think that’s a good choice. Plays well with your features.” His fingers skim over your cheek which looked positively rosy now.

“Were you done with your fitting?”

You give yourself a little shake mentally. “Yes.” You wished he would stop stroking you so tenderly. You were starting to have thoughts quite opposite to the image of a demure bride. 

“I actually need to call back the tailor to help me with this-”

“No need.” He cuts you off smoothly, leaving no room for objection. “I assume she’s busy. And it’s a small task. I can help you.”

With patience, Nanami starts undoing the small pearl buttons. You stand, embarrassment rising, but unable to resist. He was so charming, eyes focused on his task, while you stole glances at him in the mirror, the sharp, chiseled features of his face, the lovely hue of brown his eyes were. You shiver as air hits your bare skin, his fingers going lower and lower, finally reaching the last few buttons near your waist. He spreads apart the fabric, hands caressing your back. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. 

“Look at me,” he whispers, waiting until your eyes met his before sliding the dress off your shoulders, carefully holding the skirt to avoid wrinkling it, revealing the adorable pink lace bra you had worn in hopes of surprising your fiance later. He grips the bodice carefully and moves away from you.

“Step out.” Nanami’s voice isn’t demanding; it was a request. Feeling like your legs had turned to jello, you lift one leg, then the other, stepping out of the dress before he grabs a hanger to put it away. You can feel your sex throb from need and squeeze your legs together, acutely aware that the matching pink panties must have a stain now from your dripping core. 

Once he’s secured the dress, his attention falls back to you. His eyes stop at your thighs. “No garter to go with the dress?”

You glance up at him shyly. “Are garters part of the dress fitting?”

“They should be,” he murmurs before closing the gap between you, his lips covering yours. The tension that had been building inside you snaps and you respond hungrily, body pressing unashamedly against his, feeling the hard muscles under his clothes. 

“You do look good in pink,” he says in a husky voice as you both break apart, only for him to start placing wet kisses on your neck, his hands expertly snapping open the catch of your bra with the same ease as he did with the buttons on your wedding dress. His large hands cup your breasts, massaging them, before his thumbs rest on the centers of your hardened nipples, moving them in circles, the friction making you feel weak at the knees. Your mouth finds his again, tongues brushing against each other, his fingers softly tweaking and pulling the hardened peaks. Your moans are muffled, lost in the greed of his kiss. 

He pulls back before guiding you over to the chair that sits in the corner of the fitting room, helping you comfortably straddle him, softly suckling on one of your nipples while his hands roam down your back, squeezing your waist, holding you tight as you whimper and moan. His hands eventually slide down to your ass, gripping the fat covetously, before slipping below the scanty lace that covered your pussy.

“Why do brides always abstain from sex a few weeks before the wedding?” Nanami muses as he presses dexterous fingers between your wet folds, making you gasp.  

“I-it’s not-” You choke out, unable to form coherent words.

“Look at this.” There’s a raspy quality to Nanami’s voice as he pulls out his fingers for your inspection, covered with your arousal. “Hardly did anything and you’re already making a mess. Honestly, why do you brides do this to yourselves?”

He licks his fingers clean before gripping you under your thighs, momentarily lifting you up, before standing and seating you on the chair instead. Your legs spread apart wantonly, thoughts of decency thrown out the window. Nanami hooks his index around the fabric covering your crotch, pulling it to the side, spreading apart your glistening labia with his other hand. The tangy scent of need hits his nose and he licks a line up from your entrance to your clit, before laying his tongue over the swollen bud, licking sensually. 

You’re trying your best to muffle your noises and failing spectacularly, moans getting louder and needier as he tenderly alternates between sucking and licking your clit, the variations driving out all reasoning, leaving only primal thoughts in your head. Unashamedly, you grind against his mouth, desperate for a release. You sob with delight as he inserts a finger, followed by a second, stretching you out, making you feel deliciously full. You had been abstaining and didn’t realize how much you had missed it. His fingers curl up into that small patch inside you, matching his movements to the pace of his tongue on your clit. Your hands move involuntarily, pulling at his hair, back arching against the chair as he pushes you over the edge. 

A loud, lewd sound leaves your lips as the orgasm takes over, feeling your pussy spasm pleasurably, clit pulsating, wave after wave racking your system. He doesn’t spare a second, quickly unzipping his trousers and adjusting you before slipping his cock into your wetness. 

You were unprepared for the sudden intrusion, making you gasp in shock as you adjust to his thickness, pussy still fluttering from your climax. Your legs wrap around his waist as he moves closer, almost folding you in half and he starts to thrust into you. 

“Fuck…so tight…looks like abstinence…made your pussy forget…how to take cock…” he says between breaths, his movements so sinfully slow, ensuring you feel every inch of him, taking note of every small spasm your body makes around him. 

You whine at his slow thrusts, needing more. “Kento…”

“Did you need something my dear?” You want to shake him for his ability to sound so polite, like you were having tea together instead of him being buried in your cunt. 

“I need more…please…” You can’t keep the urgency out of your voice. His eyes darken at your request.

“Desperate to cum on my cock are you?” he teases, pulling back until he’s almost about to pull out the tip before slamming back into you, making you moan noisily. His hips snap into you, placing his fingers into your mouth, the unspoken command clear in his eyes; wet them.

You suck his fingers, moistening them with your saliva before he removes them, using the lubrication to rub circles onto your clit. The sensation combined with the force of him fucking into you makes your eyes roll back into your head. You were so close, and judging by his grunts and movements getting sloppier, so was he. 

“Such a sweet bride…you’ll be an even sweeter mother someday…” He pants as he maintains a rhythm, close to his own climax. You feel the familiar feeling of heat and tension building in your belly, coiling like a spring waiting to be set free. Soon enough, a second climax rips through you, stealing the breath from your lungs, your mouth open in a silent scream as it grips you. With a grunt, Nanami’s hips snap forward aggressively and you feel his cock spasm, little twitches inside your pussy as he empties himself into you. 

Sated, both of you pant, trying to catch your breath. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a small pack of tissues, using one to clean up and catch his cum as he slips out of you. He gently runs another one down your slit, cleaning you up as best as he can.

“Not just good for an emotional bride,” he jokes as he wads up the used tissues.

Your muscles ache in protest as he lowers your legs to the floor. He smiles at your state, exhausted, fucked out in the sweetest way possible. Nanami fusses with your hair, trying to bring it back to a state of decency before handing you your bra.

“You’d better hurry up and get dressed. Dinner with the bridesmaids at 7, yeah?”

OUTSIDE THE FITTING ROOM:

The tailor who had been assisting you was relatively new and she was now waiting in the back break room along with the elderly woman who had greeted you earlier. She clicks her tongue impatiently. 

“I saw Mr. Nanami go into the fitting room she was in…should I be concerned?” she asks the older woman.

The wizened lady giggles at her. The tailor frowns. “What? Am I missing something?”

“That’s his fiancee that came in for a fitting. I say let’s give them a few more minutes. I’m sure he’s already helped her put away the gown.” She laughs heartily at the dumbstruck look on the tailor’s face. 

“Wha-but-” the tailor splutters. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride in the wedding dress before the wedding?”

“Considering he’s the one that designed it, I think an exception can be made. Now hush and get back out front. There’s other customers that need attending to.”

wedding themed divider by: @/ fairytopea Image 1Image 2Image 3

Support banner by @/cafe kitsune

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan

Words Natty Kasambala

Beloved for Captain America, I, Tonya, and his recent Emmy-nominated role in Pam & Tommy, Stan reflects on a career shaped by diverse characters. Now, with A Different Man and The Apprentice, he’s exploring deep questions about identity, ambition, and the complexities of portraying one of America’s most influential (and controversial) men, Donald Trump

Sebastian Stan wears Rag & Bone throughout. Photography Jim Goldberg

The first time Sebastian Stan tried acting, he hated it. At 9 or 10 years old, he played a Romanian orphan in an Austrian film called 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance (1994). Between the waiting around, night shoots, and general pressure-cooker energy, the whole experience had been pretty anxiety-inducing. “I think the idea of a set was just really terrifying,” he recalls. The 42-year-old mainstay admits to being a Leo, but a rather reluctant one, he says, not that extroverted or hypersocial. “I know my mom always thought I was creative simply because I would impersonate the people in our family, or birds or whatever I would see around me.” Nowadays, when he does speak, it’s with the compelling ease of someone who’s spent equal time commanding impressive rooms and in their own head trying to crack the great questions of the world – sounding off passionately about the perils of social media (“there’s so much noise in today’s world”) or the last incredible film he watched (Sing Sing and it was “pure heart”).

Born in Romania and raised in Vienna until he was 12, it wasn’t until immigrating to America as a preteen that Stan found his way back to the craft at all. Attending Stagedoor Manor summer camp aged 15, in the Catskill mountains of upstate New York, his spark was reignited. “That place was really magical and made me fall in love with (acting again); I couldn’t think of anything else as exciting to me as performing was,” he says. “Some of it was about not ever being sure of what to be when I grew up. I kept thinking that you could be a lot of things if you did this.”

So far, he’s been a wayward socialite, a cannibal, a space surgeon, a ski patrol villain, a heavy metal drummer, a supernatural student and a World War II veteran turned brainwashed Soviet operative, to n ame but a few. He’s not an actor you’ll find in the same role twice. With that said, his name has reached household status through a decade-long Marvel stint, with the two films Stan finds himself at the helm of this year being his most ambitious forays yet. 33 years on from his awkward beginning, the actor’s commitment to film appears to still be very much in bloom. “I think I’m at a point in my life where I’m trying to understand things on a deeper level,” he explains. “I can’t say I know everything, you’re always growing, always having to explore. I think it’s important to stay curious, to stay in a certain degree of healthy discomfort… I want to be part of important storytelling that’s asking important questions and reflecting our time.”

In A Different Man, an A24 production directed by Aaron Schimberg, Stan takes on the role of an aspiring actor called Edward with neurofibromatosis, a genetic condition that results in the extensive growth of benign tumours. He undergoes a clinical trial that cures him of his physical symptoms, but his new life turns out to be far from what he dreamed for himself. It’s a winding surrealist investigation into the social impacts of disability, alienation, representation and self-image: its gaze is unflinching, its narrative self-referential and its humour pitch-black. Stan has already won the Silver Bear for Best Leading Performance at the Berlin Film Festival for A Different Man.

The second release, The Apprentice, follows a wildly different arc. Directed by Iranian-Danish filmmaker Ali Abbasi, it tracks a young Trump as he falls under the nefarious mentorship of infamous legislator Roy Cohn. Dubbed ‘an American Horror Story’, it’s a sobering yet deeply entertaining snapshot of the making of one of America’s most influential men. Yet even within the dynamic, prescient story, the actor’s take on Trump is subtle and human, and the tone of the film is less moralising and more matter of fact.

Though the narratives of these two projects are starkly different, you can’t help but find the common threads. Both are set in New York and document a transformation, and both centre a feverish pursuit of some ideal imagined self. A Different Man was filmed back in 2022, and The Apprentice only wrapped in February of this year, but Stan agrees it’s a curious double-header. “I’m weirdly finding parallels between them that I never thought I would. Identity, self-truth, self-abandonment. This idea that we’re always chasing in America, whether it’s image or status or an inability to accept failure and to take ownership over mistakes.”

For the Trump film, that real-life denial was almost the ending of their work of fiction. After years of false starts, Trump’s legal team attempted to block the film’s release in the US altogether and they struggled to find a distributor willing to take on the risk of pissing off a potential President. “For to edit it and get it to Cannes in some finished version itself in five months was just insane. There was no idea if the movie was going to come out,” Stan says. On an individual level, the task felt equally murky and intimidating at first. “You’re trying to tell a story about somebody that’s so famous, who everyone has an opinion about: either extreme love and adoration or hate and animosity. And everyone’s got a version of the guy, so you think, well what do I…” he shrugs, “how do I find my way into it?” Ultimately, they landed on this film as a means of peeling back the layers of one of the most polarising figures of our time. It’s less caricature and more character study as it explores his relationship with his father, his ambitions, the man he was before the slogans and affectations.

Executive producer Amy Baer has spoken about the choice to call on a non-American director to provide a new lens on the intricacies of American culture, propaganda and patriotism. With Stan’s own immigrant story, his perspective adds another dimension to that prism too. Memories of walking down Fifth Avenue in awe and wonder as a kid, staring up at all the big buildings – he tapped into a hunger and drive to portray early Trump as a young man desperately trying to be a part of The Club. “I guess with my experience coming to this country, it was communicated to me even from Eastern Europe that this is the place where you can make something of yourself, you can have a good idea… and you could just succeed,” Stan says. The Apprentice asks, “but at what cost? What happens to a person’s humanity?”

Throughout the film, you witness Trump espousing about “bringing back New York”, even remarking on Reagan’s campaign slogan ‘Let’s Make America Great Again’ towards the end, an ideology he would go on to repurpose for his own candidacy. It’s a fascinating yet depressing origin story of a nationalistic rhetoric that echoes today as a Trojan horse for corruption and greed. “It’s complicated. That’s why I think there’s value in exploring it,” Stan urges. “This American Dream idea is a really powerful driving force that also comes with consequences.”

Perhaps the most complex part was the toxic relationship with his sometimes-partner-in-crime played staggeringly by Jeremy Strong. “I think he was the best partner I’ve ever had in anything I’ve worked on,” Stan declares with a smile. “You know when you’re standing in front of a fire and you feel the heat of it and there’s crackling in the air? That’s how it felt.” Amidst quite a gruelling, isolating filming schedule, it’s the aspect Stan speaks about most fondly.

Clothing Fendi, Necklace & Bracelet Cartier, Boots Givenchy

Swinging between dominant and intimate, transactional and paternal, from comical to devastating, both stayed in character throughout the shoot and undertook a colossal amount of research to be prepared for infinite possible improvised routes. “Creatively, makes things interesting is when you’re not in control. You do all this preparation to be prepared to be surprised,” Stan says. Shot documentary-style in moments, Abbasi might give each of them notes in private to shift the tone of a scene, and they’d find themselves responding instinctively within their roles. “The only way you can achieve that is if, to some degree, you find that person in you. And I can certainly tell you,” he pauses briefly to consider his landing. “There is a version of Trump that existed in me. And I’ll make the argument that there’s a version of Trump that exists in all of us. And that part of our job, part of our interest, should be figuring out what that is. I think we have to acknowledge and expose the things in us that are not so easy to admit, in order to further protect the things we need to fight for. You can’t ignore it.”

In that moment, it’s clear that it’s an argument as true of our discourse on Trump as it is of Stan’s other role in A Different Man. His character Edward is driven to obsession and madness when he witnesses the thriving life of a person with the same disfigurement he was quick to shed, the very thing he believed to be the root of all his misfortune. Right before his transformation, Edward has been ignoring a leak in his ceiling for weeks, and the damage is getting worse. When he’s finally forced to call for a repair, the super arrives and is appalled at how bad he’s allowed it to get. He tells Edward frustratedly, “you should have fixed this sooner”. In that moment, it feels as though he’s talking about a hundred things at once. From Edward’s own issues with doubt and self-acceptance that cling to him even when he is no longer ‘different’ to our own society’s discomfort with, and the misunderstanding of disability altogether. We cannot be afraid to look.

“Edward makes a decision that he thinks is going to improve his life, but he’s not making it for himself. He’s making it because he’s watched other people and he’s grown up in a society that’s told him this is what works,” Stan explains. “Essentially, he abandons himself and he spirals down trying to further live with that painful acknowledgement. I think we have to be conscious of when we’re making decisions that go against who we are and what we truly want.”

In true indie style, squeezing in around the schedule of their makeup artist who was on another project at the same time, Stan had some hours to kill most mornings in prosthetics before filming which he’d spend navigating the city he calls home: “one of the gifts that I was given which I’m very grateful for was the experience that I had walking around New York City as Edward.” With reactions to him ranging from invisibility to hypervisibility, it shifted his entire understanding.

“I’ve been there like everybody else thinking, oh, if I had that. Or you see someone on Instagram and you’re like, oh my God, look at that life, they have the best life; you get caught up in these things.” It’s both reassuring and a little disheartening that, unlike his superhuman alter ego, a star like Stan is still not immune to the very human insecurities us civilians face of joy-stealing comparisons. “There’s this idea I’ve been thinking about a lot with my therapist actually,” he laughs. “He was saying ‘I am me and you are you.’ I was like… yeah! But you forget. We have to understand our own experience and then understand someone else’s. But we have to try to understand it not through our own emotional… vomit.”

When I ask Sebastian what he does for fun, to unbecome his characters and shed their existential weight, he cites reading (mostly non-fiction) and travel (to see other cultures). “I always feel like I’m not learning enough,” he laughs. You get the sense that this year is a juncture for Stan, always revered for being grounded and likeable, but perhaps waiting for opportunities like these to enrich and express other sides of himself as an actor and voice within culture. “Both of these films came at an interesting time where I’m thinking about if I’m at mid-life, this second half of my life. What is it that I want to be a part of and one day look back and be proud of?”

And that’s not to say fun is off the table for Stan. He’s passionate about laughter as a release in a difficult world. “I think it’s just as important, we have to protect humour,” he tells me with an urgency. “I love comedies, romantic comedies, action.” In fact, there’s a top-secret action movie passion project that he has in the works and hopes will come together in the right way. “There are also things in Marvel I want to do and explore with ol’ Bucky Barnes,” he smiles, presumably in reference to the new Marvel film Thunderbolts, slated for a 2025 release, in which he stars alongside Florence Pugh, Harrison Ford and David Harbour. “Otherwise I just want to keep learning how to be a human being. I’m telling you,” he laughs, “I feel like it’s pretty hard.”

Photography Jim Goldberg Styling Reuben Esser Production Hyperion LA Hair Jamie Taylor using Augustinus Bader Hair Erica Adams Represented by A-Frame Agency

[kteezy997]

Lady in Waiting-Part Eight//King Hal

The day had come. Lady Sophia was to marry her King. Your Hal.

It felt as if an entire lifetime had passed since you had arrived at the royal palace in England to start a new life with your Lady, the future Queen. But the change truly started when you met the King. He had initially mistaken you for his bride, and the rest, as they say, is history.

You fell in love with him and his quiet, private charms. The man was as tender as he was handsome. It was the most genuine affection you’d ever felt; a deep, loving connection that you shared together.

You worried for the future. How would Sophia react to your affair with the King? Would she ever find out? And on the other hand, how would you deal with having to share the man you loved?

He did not love her, or even desire her. But he would have to pretend his affections in public settings and then commit his marital duties in his bedroom at night.

You wondered if feelings may develop for Hal as he spent time with his Queen. Could he possibly forget about you? No. Of course not. He loved you, right?

Then, there were the royal children to come. Little ones running around the castle with Hal’s dark, wavy hair and green eyes. But they would be Sophia’s children. You would raise them, love them, but it would not be the same as if you and Hal had brought them into the world together.

Would children be on the horizon for you? It would be a dream to have a family with your beloved Hal. But would that be permitted? Would Sophia be able to turn her cheek and give her blessing? Kings had had royal mistresses before, though you had such a distaste for the word.

It was common for a married noblewoman to find a match for her lady in waiting. Sophia would likely follow this practice. But the Lord knows you had no interest in any man if he was not Hal. He was the one for you.

…..

She really did look elegant, regal even. The layers of her plush, ivory gown, her blonde hair curled and pinned into an updo; the image would fit perfectly on the cover of a storybook that would inspire a generation of young girls. You wondered if Hal would be impressed. It would be difficult not to be.

You could not imagine what must be going through the mind of the man you had slept with just last night. He held you all night long, as if he were desperate to cling onto a life with you.

Sophia was giddy as could be. "This is going to be the best day of my life!" she exclaimed. She sighed happily, looking at you, "Oh, y/n, this is a whole new chapter of our life." She would at times lump the two of you together, as if you, her handmaiden, were merely an extension of herself.

"Yes, indeed it is, my lady."

She made a 'tsk-tsk' sound between her teeth, holding up a finger to you, "Nay, nay, it is "Your Grace" now. I am even better than a lady."

"You are right, my apologies, Your Grace." you performed a light curtsy to her. "It is a habit I am trying to break."

"It is understandable. I have been your lady for quite a long time now. Also, you must work on your curtsy, there is plenty of room for improvement for you there." Sophia paused, took one last look in the mirror. "Now, hold my dress. It is nearly time."

............

You accompanied Sophia, carrying the train of her dress, to her bridal party. There were gasps and gushing at the sight of the bride from her bridesmaids. You could not help but smile at the scene before you, despite your uneasy feelings on the inside. You were holding on tightly to Hal's promise that nothing will change, that he will still love you after he is married.

"Psst, my lady y/n."

You heard the whisper, recognizing the voice as Hal's guard, the same man who escorted you back to your room early that same morning. You turned to him, and he motioned you over. You made sure Sophia did not see and hustled to him.

"His Majesty requests your presence at once."

"Is something wrong?" you inquired.

"Follow me, milady."

......

"Hal?" you said as you approached him in his chambers.

"Oh, thank the gods you are here." he sighed heavily, hurrying over to you. He wrapped you up in his arms.

"Are you alright?"

"I needed to see you." You could tell he was jittery.

"You just saw me a few hours ago." you pulled away from the embrace to look in his eyes. "My darling, you were fine when I left this morning. What has happened?"

"Nothing, nothing has happened. I just do not think I can go through with this wedding." he looked down at the ground.

"Of course you can. You have to. You said yourself that nothing will change." you placed your hands on his cheeks. "I love you, Hal. Nothing will change that. Do you love me?"

"Of course, that is precisely why-"

"Then do this for me. Make Sophia happy. Keep her here in this palace, because as long as she is here, I will be here. We can sort things out later as long as we get through this day. You are not alone; I will be there. I will always be there."

Hal let out a little smile and huff, "As I am for you." He gave you a kiss, nodding, "I knew you would make me feel better."

"Even a King can get nervous, I suppose." you reassured him, returning a grin.

.........

It was a lengthy yet gorgeous ceremony. Hal looked directly into Sophia's eyes and kissed her lips after they said I Do. You could not help the pang of jealousy ripping into your chest as you watched. You knew he did not love her, but it did not make seeing them kiss any easier. You tried to not imagine them in Hal's bed, naked, touching.

The wedding reception followed and contained extravagant courses of food, cake, music, dancing and the decorations you helped arrange.

You noticed that Hal was able to let loose after a few alcoholic beverages. He had invited some old friends from Eastcheap, and they were all having a great time dancing and horsing around on the dance floor.

You decided to rest a bit and sip some wine as you sat at one of the tables. You enjoyed watching the wedding guests and Hal and his mates. But you kept drinking more wine, as you found it increasingly difficult to get thoughts of Hal making love to Sophia out of your mind.

After downing a few glasses of the red drink, you felt a little lighter, perhaps even numb. The space in your brain became more vacant, and you were glad for it.

The time came for the King and Queen to share their first dance as a married couple. A sweet tune came from the band's string section as Hal led Sophia to the floor.

It was, to the naked eye, a romantic moment for the newlyweds. The bride grinning from ear to ear as her groom held her waist, and she with her arms laced around his neck as they swayed to the music.

The sight of it all made you nauseous.

Afterwards, the dance floor became crowded again. And you were surprised when the Queen came over to you instead of tending to one of the vast numbers of her noble wedding guests.

"Y/n I think you should have a dance with Hal." she said with a smile.

You raised your brows, "Oh? And why is that, Your Grace?"

"Well, you are friends, are you not? Besides, I already mentioned it to him, and he is expecting you."

"That is very kind of you." you said, trying not to stumble when you rose from your chair. Maybe the wine was too much.

........

Hal was smirking as he stood in the crowd of dancing partners. He welcomed your body close to his when you approached him.

"How charitable of the Queen to offer her King to her Lady." you quipped.

He chuckled lightly, "Yes, well, at least we can enjoy a moment together." he slid his hands to your lower back.

You hummed at his warm touch, but you could not lean in, could not look at him too fondly otherwise suspicions would arise.

"I would never truly complain about an opportunity to be close to you, my King." you whispered.

Hal shook his head slightly, his jaw clenching noticeably. "Oh, the things I want to do to you right now." You could hear the rumble of desire in the lowness of his voice.

........

You spent the night alone in your bed. Luckily, the amount of alcohol you had consumed lulled you to sleep. You knew without it, you would have been up all night thinking about Hal and Sophia.

You woke with a small headache, but you drank a big cup of cold water to hydrate yourself some before leaving for Sophia's chambers. You felt much better, but you were not ready to hear about how amazing her wedding night was with the man you loved.

You knocked on her door but there was no answer, not even after a second knock. "Your Grace? Are you in there?" Was she still in Hal's room? Perhaps it would not be proper for a King to kick his Queen out of bed after consummating their marriage.

"Y/n?" you heard her call out faintly. "Is that you? Come in."

Sophia's voice was much softer than usual, and she sounded weak.

You opened the door to a dark room. Typically, she was already up and ready to get dressed and made up for the day. But now, she was in bed, covered up completely by her blankets. "My Queen, are you well?" you asked.

She pulled the covers down from her face. You were stunned to see her eyes swollen red and watery. "Oh, y/n, last night was terrible." she cried, covering her face again.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[daisynik7]

“Into you” by Fabolous for Connie Springer- smut + fluff

(S4 connie ofc)

Into You

I think you’re truly something special, just what my dreams are really made of

Pairing: Connie Springer x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: super fluffy, kinda cheesy, college au, modern day au, lots of basketball terms (applies specifically to NCAA and NBA), explicit language, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), implied creampie

Summary: You and Connie Springer have been close since childhood, growing up as next-door neighbors and best friends. The bond the two of you share is undeniable, but you’ve never been able to admit how deep your feelings are, either to yourself or to him. You continue to support him as his friend while he pursues his career as a basketball player, trying to get drafted into the NBA. Though the journey has its ups and downs, one thing is for certain: The two of you will always have each other, forever and ever. 

Author’s Notes: Hi anon! Thanks so much for requesting this song for the y2k karaoke party because it’s one of my FAVORITES! It really gives me Love & Basketball vibes, another favorite of mine that also happens to be a classic in the y2k era. This little fic is very loosely based off of that, so I hope you enjoy! Also, all the basketball/NBA tidbits are mostly from being with my boyfriend, who is a huge NBA fan, so yeah, sorry if any details are inaccurate lol. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! MDNI banner credit to @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest (Slam Dunk manga).

“You have to pinky promise, okay?” Connie sticks his tiny finger out, wiggling it in front of your face, sucking on his cherry-flavored lollipop, lips and tongue-stained red. You’re both five years old, sitting cross-legged in the front of his yard, taking a break from playing hide-and-seek.

“What am I pinky promising?” you ask, voice squeaky and curious.

“That we’ll be best friends forever and ever! No matter what!” he exclaims, beaming at you with his eyes wide, twinkling earnestly. 

You only need to think for a few seconds before you’re hooking your pinky with his, committing to this promise for the rest of your lives. 

~~~

Ten years later, Connie makes it on the varsity basketball team in your high school. It’s rare for a freshman to make it to varsity at Ragako; the coaches must have seen that spark in him that you and his family have witnessed since he started playing at ten-years-old. You used to shoot around with him out in his driveway, where his father set up a little hoop. Eventually, the little one got upgraded to a real one, where the height was adjusted appropriately as Connie grew. You became his practice partner, no longer able to compete with him. Instead, you passed him the ball, watching in awe as he made shot after shot, sometimes deep from the street. He’d pick you up and spin you around, the two of you cheering together, impressed by his skills.

Year after year, he only improved. The way he handled the ball, expertly dribbling it between his legs, behind his back, one-handed, without looking. Or the way his feet gracefully shuffled along the court, the distinct squeak from his shoes echoing off the walls as you watch him on the bleachers, playing three-on-three against some of his buddies at the gym. One time, his friend Jean teases you. “You know, you should stop hanging around here or else people might think you’re his groupie.”

Before you can think of a smart comeback, Connie interjects, shoving Jean hard in the arm. “Hey! Leave her alone. I want her here. I only play like this when she’s around. And she’s not a groupie. She’s my best friend.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the exit while Jean sputters apologies that go ignored. “Sorry about that,” he whispers to you. “Jean is an asshole. I want you around, got it? Forever and ever.”

You smile, leaning into him. “Forever and ever.”

~~~

It’s at the championship game during senior year that you realize that you’re in love with Connie.

Scouts have already contacted him about full-ride scholarships to university, recruiting him for their team. He’s the most celebrated point-guard in your school’s history, his average points and assists per game breaking records. Ever since he joined, your school has made it in the final round each year, last year resulting in a win, this year leading to a second. 

With seconds left on the shot clock, tie game, Ragako with possession, Connie makes his move. He inbounds the ball to his teammate, quickly taking position at the right wing, his sweet spot. As quickly as it leaves his hands, the ball is passed back to him. He shoots it, and as it flies out from his fingers into the air, the buzzer rings, and he makes it. The crowd goes wild; one side of the bleachers erupting into a frenzy, jumping up and down with excitement. Connie’s parents hug each other first, then surround you in their arms, elated. You don’t expect him to celebrate the win with you, not with his entire team huddling around him, splashing water on his head, cheering his name. Not with all the cheerleaders and fans gravitating toward him, eager to be in the presence of a sure-to-be star in the making. So, it surprises you when you see him maneuver his way through the crowd, heading straight towards you. He pounces on you, giving you the biggest, sweatiest hug with tears streaming down his face. It’s a split second where the surrounding noise goes blank and it’s just the two of you there, basking in each other’s warmth. Soon, his parents join you, also crying happily, and it’s in this moment that you realize this is where you want to be: with him. Forever and ever.

~~~

It's no surprise that the two of you attend the same college together. Most people will see it as you following him, but in actuality, Connie agrees to go wherever you go. Lucky for you both, your top choice is a D1 university where he’s offered a scholarship to play for their basketball team. It works out perfectly, as if it were meant to be. 

He’s busy from the get-go, practicing every day until the season starts in November. You become preoccupied with classes, and naturally, the two of you travel your different paths, meeting in the middle whenever you can. When the season official starts, you attend all his home games, cheering for him from the sidelines surrounded by the other students also chanting his name. Weeknights, he’s often too tired to hang out, retreating to his dorm room to fall asleep, only to repeat his busy schedule again the next day. He grows close with his teammates, spending most of his time with them instead of you, which is to be expected. After all, you and Connie are just friends. Sure, you’re completely and madly in love with him, but he’ll never know that. So, you watch from afar as he pursues his career without you in the way. It’s the way it has to be. 

By the time spring semester rolls around, you and Connie barely see each other. You’ll still text, sometimes video chat or talk on the phone. He mostly vents to you about teammates or coaches that have gotten on his nerves that day. He’ll catch you up on the other schools they’ve defeated or the ones that they’ve lost to. Your school’s record is quite good thanks to Connie, who’s only gotten better since high school. If they continue at this rate, they will win the conference tournament, meaning a trip to March Madness, the most prestigious competition in college basketball. Most importantly, it’s one step closer to the NBA.

As expected, the team does win the conference tournament. That night, the entire campus is lively with students buzzing in school spirit, ready to party the rest of the weekend. All you think about is calling Connie to congratulate him, hear his voice and tell him that you’re so proud of him. You debate with yourself for nearly fifteen minutes, staring at his name on your screen, fingers so close to dialing his number. You decide not to go through with it, certain that he’s too busy with his team, too busy with his fans. He’s not thinking about you, not when his whole world is about to change. And you can’t blame him; you’re just friends, and this is the way it has to be.

The following night, your school organizes an impromptu homecoming for the basketball team, welcoming them as they arrive on the bus, fresh from their championship win. They have a  couple days of rest before they leave for the NCAA tournament, but you’re sure they’ll be busy with press and practice until then. You’re not there to greet them when they step off the bus; instead, you’re sulking in your room, buried under the covers, feeling sorry for yourself for ever falling in love with Connie Springer. It’s a sad, pathetic sight, but at least you’re alone for the weekend to do it while your roommate is out visiting her boyfriend out of town. 

You’re surprised to see Connie’s name flash on your phone a few hours later. You let it ring twice before answering. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asks. There’s shuffling in the background, as if he’s walking outside. 

“I’m in my room.”

“I’m coming over now.” He hangs up, not giving you any time to respond. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

When you open the door to let him in, he wraps his arms around you in a snug embrace. “I missed you.” He pulls off to hold you by the arms, glaring. “Why didn’t you greet me off the bus?”

“I…” you start, unsure how to respond. 

“I was looking for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“I was studying in the library.” This might be the first time you’ve ever lied to him. You feel guilty and gross. 

“Oh,” he says sadly, still staring at you. 

“Congratulations, by the way. It was an amazing win.” You give him a weak smile, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. You don’t even know why you’re crying; Connie did nothing wrong. You’re letting your emotions get the best of you, and you can’t help but crumble in front of the only person who knows you better than you know yourself. 

“I don’t care about that right now. I care about you. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Connie, I promise.”

“Don’t promise me shit like that. I know you’re upset. Tell me. Please.” His eyes search yours, desperate for an answer. 

You look at his feet, fixating on his shoes, scuffed on the sides from playing. Tears start to drop from your face and on the carpet. “I just…I missed you too. I miss you, Connie. I…I love you.” The confession slips from your mouth in a sniffle, and you’re so upset with yourself for letting it slide in this crucial moment. Neither of you needs the drama of your unrequited love right now. Not you, knowing he’ll be leaving again soon, and especially not him, who has bigger and better things to focus on. 

He gapes at you, stuttering, “You love me?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Like, love love? Or love like a friend?”

You’re tempted to lie, just to make it easier. But you owe it to Connie to be honest with him. “Love love.”

His mouth is open, eyes bugging out, completely shocked by your admission. Before he can respond, you add, “I’m sorry, Connie. I shouldn’t have told you this right before the tournament, but…I don’t know. It just came out. I’m sorry.”

He stammers, “You’re sorry? This is the best fucking thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” He breaks into a smile, laughing hysterically, an even more bizarre reaction. 

You cross your arms, getting impatient with his ridiculous behavior, eventually grabbing his shoulders to shake him out of his fit. “Connie, what the hell?!”

He wipes his eyes, crying from giggling, beaming at you. “I’ve been in love with since we were kids. Been dreaming of hearing you say that since we were five-years-old.” He hugs you tightly, nuzzling his nose to the top of your head. “I love you and I want to be with you. Forever and ever, right?”

You nestle into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent you missed since he’s been gone. “Forever and ever.” 

~~~

The two of you spend the night together, making love for the first time. His lips are soft against yours, and you smile into his kiss, remembering the day you pinky promised that you’ll be best friends forever and ever, no matter what. His lips were stained red with cherry-flavored candy, looking sickly sweet as he smiled at you. And as you kiss him now, he tastes just as sweet as you imagined he’d be after all these years. 

You kiss him sloppy as you ride his lap, his cock buried deep in your pussy, filling you up to the brim. He moans your name into your mouth as he laps at the saliva collecting on your tongue, slurping your spit, swallowing it thickly. “Fuck,” he groans, hands gripped to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thighs. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, baby. So long.”

“Me too,” you whisper, starting to bounce on him, close to your climax. 

“What would you think about? Tell me,” he demands, thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing it raw.

You whine from his touch, increasing your pace, resting your head on his shoulder. “You and me, just like this,” you huff, short of breath. 

“Yeah? You thought about me deep inside you, huh? Fucking this sweet pussy until you come all over my cock, huh?” He thrusts up into you, grip tightening, fingers digging into your flesh. He’s close too, you can feel it.

You moan into his skin, sweat beading on your forehead, throwing your ass back against him in tandem with each pump of his cock. A few more strokes and the two of you come together, the mess spilling onto the sheets as soon as he pulls out. 

He wipes you down with tissues and baby wipes you have handy on your bedside drawer. As soon as you’re both clean, he cradles you in his arms, spooning you from behind. 

“I know this is going to sound super cheesy, but I truly feel like a winner now,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. 

You chuckle, squeezing his hand in yours. “Wait until you win March Madness. Then you’ll really be a champ.”

“Even if I lose, I’ll still have you. And that’s been my dream all this time.” 

You shift your body to face him, gazing into his eyes. “I thought your dream was to make it into the NBA?”

He smiles, booping you on the nose. “It’s part of the dream, sure. But I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am now if it wasn’t for you. You kept me going all these years. Knowing you were always on my side gave me the strength I needed to get here. As long as I have you, I’ll be living the dream.” He kisses you on the forehead. “I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever.”

~~~

In an upset, your school loses in the Final Four. It’s the furthest they’ve gotten in university history, and a large part of that is due to Connie and his extraordinary performance as their point guard. His efforts do not go unnoticed; his coaches and many prospective agents have contacted him, encouraging him to apply for the NBA draft. 

June of the same year, Connie Springer is drafted tenth in the first round and you’re sitting right beside him with his parents, cheering for him. Just as you have throughout all these years, and just as you will for the rest of your lives. Forever and ever.