#so hoping I can break the cycle idk

[fair-dinkum-mechanic]

Cried at the gym bc I’m weak :’)

[yuripira4e]

I want to preface this post by saying that I love the cat king as a character, especially one that has such a major impact on Edwin and his relationship with his queerness and learning to be okay with it; HOWEVER, I also believe that everyone that genuinely believes he should be a love interest for Edwin should read this. (Also if you just like the cat king as a character and want to understand his character better and why his and Edwin’s relationship is not something that would be healthy or “real” for either)

[taylorshope]

This is definitely a controversial opinion but I almost feel worse killing characters in Little Hope than in the other games?

[pxrplepolkadots]

🤗

[ashenberry]

the boss & naked snakes dynamic does make me a bit insane and i wish we could so more of it but like. in game it would need to be a prequel bc the whole point during snake eater is that you dont know what the hell she is thinking

[evilslushy]

make-up (and irritations)

Hamzah x f!reader

(A/N): no proofread, first time writing hamzah and also anything x reader in a while… hope yall like it idk LOL send me requests maybe??? Idk fuck

“Okay, just don’t move and you won't look stupid in the end.” You hold your hand up to gesture a pause. Hamzah involuntarily paused his movement like a puppy, tensing up as the seconds passed. Somehow, after weeks of pleading, Hamzah found himself stuck in this god forsaken circumstance where you sat opposite him with your make-up bag comfortably still on the coffee table beside his beat up stained couch.

Hamzah broke himself loose from your trance by moving his eyes away from your gesturing hand that had a brush hanging between your index and middle finger to your stern eyes, excitement highlighted all across your face. “I don’t know. Your excitement is kinda freaking me out.” He responded, his eyebrows furrowing at the thought of products rubbing across his sensitive skin.

“You being negative is making me want to make you look stupid.”

Hamzah sighed, throwing his head back to rest it against the sofa, he looked up at the ceiling, murmuring: “I’m not being negative. I’m just being… cautious.”

“Cautious has a negative connotation to it.”

Hamzah only closed his eyes in response. Coming up with something in response only ten seconds later, “Big word alert.” Making you giggle. “Shut up.”

Hamzah’s smile grew at the sound of your laughter—opening his eyes to look at you. Using his hands to sit back up, he crossed his legs and faced you, the sunlight casting a warm glow on his features. There was a relaxed look in his eyes as he settled into the moment, the atmosphere around you charged with an unreadable energy. “Just go.” Your eyes clicked in place with his, your smile still lingering—nothing in your mind anymore other than your comments about how cute he looks.

“Don’t rush me.” You opened your eyeshadow pallet. “This is a form of art. Do you think good art is rushed?” You tapped the powder onto your brush, “you’re taking this way too seriously.” Hamzah’s eyes followed your movement, partially nervous. You clicked your tongue, saying: “hun if you don’t wanna do this we can stop.”

Hamzah looked at you blankly, trying to read if he’s starting to irritate you or not. The last thing anyone wants is an angry girlfriend. The last thing that he wants, matter of fact. Though you weren’t angry—you were genuine about your concerns, you put your brush down to show surrender to his protests. A reassuring smile tilting your lips. A strain in his heart formed at your demonstration of love and care. (Slightly fluttering at the sudden nonchalant nickname drop).

“No. No-no-no. It’s fine. I’m just joking.” He probably looked like an idiot right now. After months of dating he still gets flustered over little things like a teenager. Your hand moved back down to grab the brush again. “You’ll be fine. I know how to do this.” You reassured, smiling as your thumbs glided over his right eyes to close it.

It was quiet, Hamzah relaxing at the feeling of the brush running across his lid. Breathing steadily. You didn’t expect him to be so still. At one point you thought he was asleep. But the random: “my eye itches.” Or “my back hurts.” Reminded you who exactly your boyfriend is. You sighed as you finished one of his eyes.

“My back hurts.” He whined yet again, “I wanna lay my back on the couch.” He continued his whining. You were too focused to notice what he was saying, Hamzah holding your hand away from his face to break out of your focus cycle. “Can we take a break?” A suggestion that almost goes unacknowledged by you when you notice how close you are to his face, for the first time it seemed like you were the flustered one. “Why did you break me away from my art piece?” Hamzah snarked in response.

You pushed his shoulder towards the couch, forcing his back against it. Hamzah raised his eyebrows in curiosity, wondering what you’re doing to him. You uncrossed your legs, your back also aching from being in the same bending position for around fifteen minutes. “What’re you doing?” He asked.

“Sitting on your lap so you’d rest your back against something and stop whining.”

Hamzah liked to pretend like he didn’t care, but he was freaking the fuck out for sure now.

You slid yourself on his lap, not giving attention to the matter. Your right arm wrapping around the back of his neck to prop his head against it. The side of your body resting against his chest, your other hand going back to work and continuing his makeup.

Obviously you weren’t going to address the sudden position change. Especially knowing how Hamzah always reacts to ‘out of nowhere intimacy’ not that he doesn’t like it, it’s just easy to tense him up with—in his opinion, too much—TLC.

You couldn’t help but giggle when you noticed that he stopped breathing for a few seconds. He’s not moving at all. “You okay?” You asked, moving your brush away from his face. “I feel like you're too close, anything and I might mess it up.” He spoke, raising his head up from your arm to look at you.

“Hun, this isn’t a permanent marker, we can wipe it away.” Your thumb wiped the excess eyeshadow powder under his eyes. “Why are you so tense? Relax.” Your hand moving down to his shoulder and squeezing it.

“You’re just pretty, I don’t know.” He rested his head back against your arm, avoiding your eyes as he spoke. His signature awkwardly goofy laugh fills the silence between the both of you. “Wow, such a charming delivery.” You sarcastically teased, “you don’t know?” Both of you started to laugh at the way he phrased his words. Hamzah still avoided looking at you by closing his eyes while he laughed.

“You know what I mean.” Resting his head to the side to continue avoiding eye contact. You raise an eyebrow, holding his chin to turn his face towards you to continue his makeup look. “Yeah well, look at me the next time you compliment me.” You run your brush along the bridge of his nose to contour it. Hamzah’s eyes meeting your focused face, feeling a bit awkward as your comment floated around his subconsciousness. You noticed the way he went silent, regretting not clarifying your tone.

“I’m joking. I know what you mean.” You let out, moving the brush and yourself away from his face. Hamzah sent you a half smile—“I know.”—nodding his head. The guilt for calling him out still weighed heavy on your heart, especially with that look on his face. (By that you mean his awkward half smile, he looked cute.)

You couldn’t help but lean in and give him a rushed peck. Hamzah kissed you back but still gave you a confused look afterwards. “Why?” He asked, unable to hide the warmth spreading from his neck to his ears. It was cute that he wasn’t the kind to flush across his cheeks but rather mainly on the tip of his ears.

You snarked, “not the confusion. Can’t I just kiss you?” Going back to the makeup, starting to set his face. “No, it was out of nowhere.” He responded, “should I give you a countdown next time?”

Hamzah giggled at the thought, “that would be funny, I'm not gonna lie.” His giggle was contagious, because there you go; giggling as well. “Three… two… one. Trigger warning, smooch.”

“Okay, don’t say that word.” He puts his index finger up between your faces, shaking it left and right to shush you. “What?!”

“Millennials' word.”

“Trigger warning millennials.” You say back, making you both go back to the fit of giggles you were sharing a second ago.

[cryptic--writing]

Hiya 👋🏻

It’s not really a kinktober request, but maybe you’ll consider doing it? No pressure though))

Ajaf era James, where he was drinking a lot. He understands that that affects him and turns him into a monster. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt reader, but he can’t break up with her for her safety, he loves her too much. So he comes up with stupid plan of making her break up with him because of his behavior? So he starts to undermine her efforts, e.g. the meals she cooks “could have been better”; makes fun of her simple 9-5 job , saying that’s she lucky she can have a relaxed job cause he’s earning most of the money and covering the bills. Although she’s hurt, she is staying as she loves him and thinks it’s the alcohol talking. James, realizing his plan doesn’t work, makes the final move: after they have sex one evening, he tells her that groupies do a much better job. That’s too much for her to take so she leaves him.

Unfortunately, after break up he feels even worse. Lars is worried so he interrogates him, and drunken James confesses. So Lars finds reader and locks her in the studio with James for them to reconcile (can we have smut here)?

Few weeks later when they start recording black album, James plays her a song (which will become nothing else matters), saying that it’s his way of telling everyone how much she means to him?

I’m sorry I can’t write short asks 🥲🥲🥹🥹

You are a great writer so I really hope this will become a story 🙏🏻

hihi!

and omg its here. took me 9 days to write it lmao but yeah

i cant explain how much I loved this idea pls marry me annon

also ~~~ means POV change (yes there is James and reader pov)

this fic has legit everything so I hope y'all enjoy it bc I busted my ass on it

some parts may be confusing idk

anyways

word count: 10623

warnings: mentions of achohol/drugs, death is mentioned, toxic relationship, break up, angst, smut, fluff, I'm prob forgetting smth

OR SO I THOUGHT (1989)

It had been a rough couple months with James. I felt determined to help him with his only worsening alcoholism, though he only continued to shut me out. I could feel the guilt when he was around, but it didn't make him stop. I tried, I really did, encouraging him to talk to me, to help me help him. 

It was the same sad scene every night. James would come home, probably around midnight, and I couldn't sleep without him next to me, so I was up, all those hours, wondering as I tossed and turned as to where he might be. All I knew is I was in for a scary time when he got back, but I eventually grew tough skin to deal with this.  Understood that this wasn't safe for me, or him, and I stressed that so, so much to him, but James never understood. Well, he never told me he did. Maybe there was more going on in his heart I never knew about. But, of course, I could never discover as he would always close himself off so much.

It was another day where the cycle would repeat. I woke up at three am to the sound of James stumbling in, mumbling something under his breath before he plopped down on the bed beside me, and I knew well enough to hold my tongue, to not provoke him. I pretended I was asleep, which he believed, trying, or at least I think he was trying, to snuggly up next to me, but he had his back to me. His arms weren't around me. Maybe that's all I yearn for now, to be loved and held.

Once I could finally go back to sleep, I was awoken not much later by the sound of my blaring alarm. It was seven am, time to get ready for work. James is a heavy sleeper, he never woke up from my alarms, though I always rushed to turn them off, just in case they would wake him. Slipping out of bed with a groan, I observed his sprawled out body, his shoes still on. I'm glad he made it to the bed this night, as others he would end up on the couch, or in his car, or somewhere I had no idea of.

I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, like a mother caring for her ill son on a school day. I slipped off his shoes, trying to get him more comfortable. I scurried towards the closet to grab my work clothes for the day before getting changed in the bathroom and rummaging through our medicine cabinet, finding some pain killers and then getting him a cold glass of water, leaving the items on our bedside table. I paused to watch over him as he slept, his slow, steady breaths that rose and fell from his chest. I loved him too much to change this lifestyle. I loved every part of him, and if this was part of him, then so be it. I'll help him get better. He loves every part of me, no matter what, right?

Or so I thought.

I slipped on my heels, walking into our messy kitchen, the sink filled with unwashed dishes James was supposed to do. But, he isn't well, so I must do them for him. After washing the dishes, I brewed coffee, poured myself a cup and left some for him and began to make breakfast. James had been off lately, different to how he already was off, but that slowly became part of our normal, so one new change did not stick out too much, but this one did. I don't know what it is. He just felt… lifeless, cold, I guess. I decided to make one of his favorite breakfast meals, a nice, warm and fluffy stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon, cooked just the way he liked it. I spent extra time trying to make it the best I had. I knew they would probably be cold by the time he woke up, but hopefully he'd appreciate my effort. I ate some eggs before scrambling for a notepad, getting a pen to write him a sweet good morning note, explaining I was at work, when I'd be home, how much I loved him, and where the other meds were if he needed them. I wrote these notes almost daily, but this one I made longer and more love filled. I figured he would want my love.

Or so I thought.

I came home around six pm, the evening traffic being worse than usual. Instead of seeing James' car out of the driveway and the house dark, he was still home. The soft sound of the TV buzzing was easy to hear as I unlocked the door, walking in to see him on the couch, leaning against the couch arm and holding his head up with his hand. He was too engrossed in whatever he was watching to nice me walk in, so I tried to have him notice my presence.

“Im back, Jamie,” I said softly to not startle him, my voice filled with love as I moved to sit next to him, he looked over at me, like a confused puppy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gently stroking his back, though he moved from my touch.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm fine. Busy right now, yeah?” He mumbled as a response as he resumed watching TV once more, brushing me off with his simple, cold words. I knew I had to respect his space and not probe at him, so I just nodded with a sigh and got up, slipping off my shoes and setting my bags down,

“Are you hungry?” I asked, digging through the fridge to get things to make dinner. He didn't answer. “James, are you hungry? I can make dinner,” I offered again, noticing the cleared plate that I had made him for breakfast, the note missing. I assumed he threw it away, just like the others. I never saw them in the trash cans, but after everything piles up, you can just assume. I heard James sigh from the couch, “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. Breakfast was cold, so I threw most of it away anyways,” He admitted, and I felt a small ache in my heart. I thought he liked the dish since there was none left on his plate, but clearly he proved me different. Why I even put effort in these things, I don't know. THats a lie, I do. I love him, and want him to know it, to feel it. I should’ve been doing this as part of my own insecurities, but to make sure he knows I'm there for him, always.

I thought of what to make for dinner, seeing if he had eaten anything since breakfast, only finding empty beer bottles and a half eaten bag of chips. It was probably only the alcohol making him act like this. I decided to make steak with potatoes, something he normally liked and said I made pretty well. It was easy to make, and I know it was one of his favorites I made him, but normally I would wait for a bigger step in life, like celebrating something about the band, or something in my career, but I knew he deserved it still.

I finished after 45 minutes, preparing the plate to be gorgeous, something I wish I could hear from his lips for once. But, he loved me. I know he thinks I'm gorgeous, he wouldn't have to tell me. Right?

“Jamie, the food's ready, I made steak,” I said warmly with a smile, setting a dinner table for us. I didn't get a response, just a grunt as he stood from the couch and walked his near empty bottle of beer, finishing it off and grabbing another from the fridge. I sat at the table, waiting for him to come and join me. His eyes landed on the plate, pulling out the chair to sit down. I couldn't read his emotions, he didn't look too happy, but he didn't look mad. He just looked.. plain. James grabbed his fork and began to eat, the metal scraping against the porcelain plate, waiting for his nod of approval. It never came. He didn't talk, but not in a way like he was mad. He just didn't speak. But he didn't need to, he didn't need to say the things I knew already. I took a breath and began to eat, and it might've been one of the best I had cooked in awhile. Perfect tenderness, juiciness, seasoning, and cooked perfectly, something you could get at a restaurant, now in our home. 

“What do you think, baby? I think it's pretty good, no?” I inquired, seeking the validation I craved from him. He just shrugged.

“It's fine, I guess. It could've been better.”

It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't. He just didn't like the dinner I cooked. The dinner I poured my time into. The dinner I made was special. Special for him. But, what did I know? I doubt he meant it. That's why it definitely shouldn't have hurt. He was drinking. ITs just the alcohol making him act like this. He would never say something like that to me. Why did tears prick at my eyes. Why did it actually hurt?

“Oh, uhm…. I'm sorry, I'll do better next time, do you want me to make you something else..?” I choked out, fighting back my tears.

“No, don't waste your time making something mediocre, yeah?” James insisted, insulting me bitterly once again.

I took a shaky breath, another sting to my heart. Hes. Drunk. This can't be what he means, right?

Or so I thought.

“Alright, uh, do you wanna cuddle on the couch..? We can watch anything you want? Or not watch anything, just sit together.” I offered again, pleading to get love from my partner.

“I was probably gonna go to bed. You mind cleaning up?” He pushed me away again, and every word stung. I want him to see me, to notice me, just to love me. But I reminded myself again and again, he's drunk, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it. I'm just being sensitive and pathetic. Maybe it's just my hormones.

I nodded, forcing a smile, “Sure, yeah, go ahead and  go to bed, I'll clean up and join you in a bit, ok?” I informed him and he just nodded and got up, walking to the bedroom, still carrying his battle with him. My eyes stung, and once he was out of sight, I felt tears streak my face, but I continued to fight them away. I quickly got up to clear James’ and my own plate, then  cleaning the kitchen, washing everything with great care to keep it tidy.

I came into the bedroom, James half asleep under the sheets. His hair was astray as he slept near the edge, his limbs tight together. The now empty beer bottle sat on the nightstand, another reminder of James’ habits. I glanced around before getting changed into my sleep clothes, a nice little night dress James had gotten me for Valentines Day earlier that year. It was nice and pink with some fluffy pieces at the bottom and lace dancing across it. It flowed nicely and hugged my body in the right places, going down to a bit above my knees. It had some other pieces, like stockings and a garter. In reality, it was more so lingerie than a bed set. But, it was one of James’ favorites for me to wear. Maybe this would make him open up more, or just show me the love I'm craving. I crawled in beside him, though I doubt he noticed the weight accompanying him, trying to cuddle closer, pressing myself against his back.

“Jamie?” I asked softly, kissing the back of his head.

“Hm.” James answered in a sleepy tone, barely aware of my presence.

“You doing ok? You've been acting differently…” I kept a quiet tone, my hands gently running down his arms and back as I pondered on what may be hurting him so much.

He took a deep and large breath, sighing, “Yeah, I'm fine… why do you ask..?” James mumbled in response.

“Nothing, you just seem off, I guess,” I rushed out. I didn't want to upset him, but he just seemed so soft and sweet, something I hadn't seen from him awhile.

“Oh, well, alright then… love you..” He mumbled out, slowly succumbing to sleep after saying the words I knew were true.

Or so I thought.

The office today was exhausting. Absurdly exhausting. And infuriating. A stuck up and snotty boss whos full of himself ordering me around to do his mundane dirty work, my co workers giving me side glances of judgment for my more rushed than normal appearance, not having as much time this morning as I had to help James with yet another hangover, getting him to the bathroom in time before he painted our bed green in vomit, making him some foods to keep him comfortable and having to buy more pain killers, my 3rd trip this month, all before heading to work. All I wanted was to come home, sleep, relax, and be held by the love of my life. 

As simple as an office job 9-5 may seem, how it is not. No one else wants to do their own work, always needing some kind of assistance, and of course, I none the wiser, agree to help them.

It was another late evening with heavy traffic, not allowing me to come home until seven, again. I had stopped at the market, grabbing food and other supplies we were running low on. And more beer. 

The door to the house was locked, something that had been happening more and more as I came home, only growing worries on James' worsening habits, the idea of drugs coming to mind, but I tried to shake it from my head, just wanting a nice time at home. 

I unlocked the door, the house quiet except for the soft strum of a guitar in James’ mini studio, which was just an extra bedroom we had turned into a spot for him to store his instruments and for his practeing. We hoped one day for it to become a nursery, a room for our future child.

I followed the music, the half open door allowing me to peek at James, hunched over one of his explorers, fiddling with the strings as he danced around the fretboard with his talented fingers. I smiled at the sweet sight, slowly entering the room.

“Whatcha working on?” I asked, announcing my arrival home. James looked up at me, at first a smile on his face, but he quickly dropped it. His actions only confused me further.

“Uhm, not much, just… a couple riffs and stuff for the new album..” He answered, still picking at the strings with something unreadable in his eyes.

I nodded, smiling at him, “It sounds good, I'm excited to hear it,” I responded before speaking again, “Work was so exhausting today, I don't know how I put up with it anymore,” I said with a laughy sigh, trying to lighten the statement.

James just shrugged. “I mean, I don't really see how a nine to five can really be that tiring,” He disputed, but his tone sounded unsure, shaky like how it did when we first met. But there was a force, an anger of some kind.

I was even more lost with his shift in attitude, “Well, what do you mean? You don't work one, you wouldn't know,” I argued back with more aggression than I meant.

“Yeah, I don't work one. Your job is light and relaxing feather work compared to the shit I do. You are out doing twelve hours a day for months on end at a studio, being out for a year just to tour and shit, you don't make anything working that job, I'm the one paying the bills with my money.” James spat, cold and bitter. His words rung in my ears, repeating each syllable like a painful stab. My brain scrambled for reasons to understand his reaction and response to my complaint of work.

James' piercing blue eyes still starred up and me, my mouth agape in shock. Why would he act like this? He loved me. He just told me he did the other week before we went to bed. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. What is wrong in his life that I don't know about, that he wont tell me about.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that might explain this behavior of his. Truly, anything that would help explain such a swift and sudden change in his mood, but deep down ZI knew, I was just looking for bottles, cans, cups, glasses, anything that would contain the fizzy and bitter liquid he loved. The only thing I could find was a half empty bottle, freshly opened next to the chair he sat in. That's it, that's why he's acting like this. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it.

Or so I thought.

Even with my new found reasoning, his words still hurt a great amount, the pain struggling to leave. A simple insult, just telling me how I don't work as hard as him, that my job isn't as crucial as his. I took a breath, trying to control and reign in my emotions before I could meltdown in front of him for such a stupid reason. Drunken words, not filled or backed by any true thoughts. Right?

But they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.

“I- well,” I tried to speak, but I couldn't come up with the words. What would I say? I didn't want to make him any more upset than he seemed to be, but I didn't want to submit to him so easily, especially after such disrespect. But I knew better. I don't lash out, I keep him happy. We will work this out together, we have to.

“I'm just gonna go to bed,” I muttered under my breath, fighting back tears that needed to spill out, James rude comments only adding fuel to the fire that had been burning in me all day. Not a fire of anger, passion or desire, but a fire of hurt. Once I shut the bedroom door behind me silently, I broke. The bottle shattered, and my tears overflowed my face, covering my mouth as I cried, trying to calm myself down as I got ready for bed at such an early hour, even forgetting to make James something for dinner.

It was my day off, a relaxing Saturday I could use to have some me time, as James was gonna be out with the band all day as the brainstormed for the new album, which was still taking its baby steps into production, nowhere near any concept for songs yet. At Least that I knew of. 

James had been really tense this week, and I had tried everything to get him to relax and cheer up. Taking him out to his favorite restaurants after I came home, making him home cooked meals, getting him gifts and all things. Though there was one thing I hadn't tried. Sex.

I spent all day dolling myself up, wanting to be as bare and beautiful as possible for James. I shaved everywhere, leaving not a single trace of hair anywhere except for my head,, of course. I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my body, putting on James’ favorite set we bought together, doing my makeup just the way he liked it, lighting the candles he got for my birthday, and dousing myself in his favorite perfume I owned. All the lights were out, except for the lowlights of the candles in the bedroom. I laid on the mattress, waiting for James to come home, hoping this would finally get him to unwind from his stress.

I heard James’ keys jingle in the door, and I could feel myself getting more and more excited for his arrival. This would be one of the few times I would have him sober, as when they worked on material they rarely drank or did anything crazy, thankfully. His shoes thudded on the wooden floors, a sigh escaping his lips as I heard him slowly walk towards the bedroom.

“Are you home?” He called out to me before approaching the bedroom door, taking in the sight of me and the room I had spent the evening preparing for this moment.

“Hey baby,” I mused with a smirk, looking up at him with loving eyes. His eyes met mine, looking warm for the first time in awhile.

“What's all this for?” He asked,  still taking in the well decorated bedroom and my sexy form.

“Wanted to help you relax… you've been so stressed,” I replied, grabbing his hand to try and bring him closer, to get into the bed with me.

It didn't take much more conniving, and James had given in pretty quickly to my offer. He was being more loud than normal, probably because we hadn't had the chance to be intimate like this in awhile. I loved this so much. Well, I loved being close to James again. He wasn't hitting the right spots or focussing on pleasuring me much, but that's fine, he's the one who needed to relax anyways, and I have enough time on my hands if I wanted to please myself, I guess. It didn't take long for him to come, pulling out and painting himself on my abdomen and my breath labored, coming down from…. Well, not an orgasm, but being close to one. James was beat after that, and I don't blame him for that. He had been so busy recently, I was happy we just got to share a moment like this together again. 

I laid close to him under the sheets as we both recovered, James already half asleep. I had his hand in mine, kissing each knuckle of his and more, pouting all of my love into that moment. I looked up, having felt James’ eyes on me for a while. I met his blues, and there was a slight guilt in them, a gestation and regret. But, it didn't last long as he blinked it all away, taking another breath. 

“How are you feeling now? Did it make it any better?” I asked, my voice heavy with sleep as I lazily continued to press kisses to his hand.

“I mean, yeah, I guess… It wasn't like, amazing though… I've had better, normally the groupies can do a bit more than that, y’know?” James said cooly, acting as if the words he just said didn't mean anything and had no weight to them.

“What?” Was all I could muster out, the tears already filling my eyes as I tried to process all of this.

“You heard me, the groupies normally do better.” 

The words came so normally from his mouth, as if he was just telling me the date and time. But no, he was comparing me to prostitutes, previous women he has slept with. I began to cry, not just out of hurt and sadness, but this time anger. How could he say something like that to me?

And then the worst part hit.

He was sober.

Something I would've wanted more than anything else just a few days ago is now what is causing this experience to be even worse than it is with the horrible comparison and insults James had spewn at me. He meant it. Alcohol was toying with his brain, making him into the aggravated man I had grown to know quite well over the years.

“Are… are you serious? After everything? I put myself through hell to deal with this, to go to work, to do EVERYTHING for you! I have tried so hard James. And Yet you still compare me to them?! Sluts with prices on their heads?!” I cried, anger and hurt filling the fire in my eyes, and I could swear I saw Jamw\es’ cold attitude falter for just a moment. Maybe it was what I was hoping for, that it was all an act, that he truly did love me deep down, but maybe he didn't. Maybe this is the truth I had been hiding from all these months.

James didn't res;ond, just sighing with a shrug.

That's what pushed me over the edge.

“Are you fucki ng serious? You're not even gonna try and fight for this? Get out of here! We're done. Since you don't appreciate anything I do for you nowadays, I don't want you in here anymore. Pack your shit and leave.” I cursed at him as I continued to sob, processing the moments that passed, feeling as if the earth was slowing, each second hitting me hard and heavy.

I could see a slight guilt in James’ eyes, and as much I wanted to believe it was true, I couldn't give it in myself to do that anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. He nodded, staying silent as I cried, slipping on his clothes and grabbing some things he'd need for the night.

“I loved you because you loved me, or so I thought you loved me, truly you don't give a shit!” I called out again, hearing James breath hitch at my harsh words, but he just left. No goodbye, the final words spoken to us only filled with hate and hurt, though millions went unspoken.

— —- — —> A FEW MONTHS LATER…

Not a lot has happened since I broke up with James, but a lot has changed. Maybe for the better. I miss him terribly, but a lot of weight is off of my shoulders now. I'm no longer worrying about having to make elaborate meals for him, or to do everything in my power to make him happy as [possible, watching my words at all times to make sure I wont say anything that might upset him. It was a large change. The house is still cold like how it was with him, but its a different kind of cold. There is no warmth of another body. Its quiet, no more TV static and laughter or guitar. Work had only gotten more tiring, but I had recently gotten promoted, something I had wanted for a long, long time.

I haven't spoken to James since we broke up. I know he had come by the next day, as when he left that night he only took clothes to last him the night, and when I came home from work, all of his belongings were gone, and his spare key was left on the counter, all of his music gear out of the house, leaving me a now empty room, not to house his guitars, and no longer holding the hopes and dreams of a future child.

Or so I thought all of his stuff was gone.

I came home after work, the house dark and silent, turning on the lights before going into the former music room, which had now become my office for the time being, as I needed one for the promotion, to be able to have a comfortable spot where I could do other work tasks from home. I set down my purse, sitting in my computer chair and sliding off my heels. I saw something in the corner of my eye, something that somehow had never caught my eye all these months. 

An ashtray, repurposed to hold James’ many guitar picks. It was behind a lamp that was in the corner of the room on an end table. There was more than just guitar pics, but one of his rings. Like the ones he always wore on stage, the cool reflective metal that shone brightly under the spotlight. I paused, only having gotten one heel off, so confused as to how I never noticed. I sat in this same chair, facing the same direction, taking my heels off the same each day. I quickly got the other off before walking towards the table, picking up the ashtray, having remnants of cigarette butts and ash, some of which covered the pics. There had to be at least 20 of those pics, I don't know how James could forget such a thing, along with one of his more favorite rings. He wore it when we met, but I never made the connection as to that being the reason he left it. I missed him, yes, but having these almost made it worse. Like the world was teasing me that he is gone, that I won't be able to be held by him again, because he doesnt love me anymore. How I still love him, I don't know. Part of me still wants to believe he never meant any of it, but the chances of that being true is slim now. But, I didn't have the heart to call him, to return them to him. He would have come to get them by now, right? 

I picked up the cold metal, holding it in my hand before slipping it on my ring finger. It was too large, slipping off quite easily. I tried the next, my middle finger, and it fit well enough to not fall off. It felt so wrong to wear, but it made me feel closer to him. I hated it, but I loved it. A little piece of him to be with me always. ‘God, I sound like a wife mourning her husband who died in a war.’ Was all I could think to myself, setting back down the ash tray and taking off the ring before sitting back down in my office chair, trying to shake my head of the matter so I could focus on the important task at hand, work.

I spent about two hours on the assignment before finishing it among other things, now exhausted even further. I stumbled towards the bedroom, changing into my pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Since the break up, I have refused to wear or even look at the clothes sJames had bought me. I didn't feel any desire to wear those things now that I knew he would be the one to see me in them. I never really wanted to wear clothes like that, but knowing he liked it made me like it. Now that he's gone, so is that enjoyment. I layed down on the mattress, sinking down as it swallowed me and the day whole. I had gotten used to the loneliness of sleeping alone, even after having a body next to me for the last four years. Maybe it was an easier adjustment as towards the end it was like sleeping next to no one.

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

The last few months are hard to describe. I can't explain it, I really can't. I've never been more lonely in my life, drowning all of my sorrows in the bitter bottles that wasted away each night and day. I've tried putting my energy elsewhere, focusing more on the band than I was earlier, trying to pour my emotions into guitar and lyrics, but nothing works. Nothing matches what I once had. What I threw away. What I ruined. Though, all my life, through all my struggles, there was one thing I learned.

Mask your emotions, hide your turmoil. It's something I had quickly gotten good at from a young age.

Or so I thought.

I went out for drinks with Lars to discuss lyrics and other parts of music for the record, as we normally had for our other productions and everything. We had another few weeks before we went into the studio, where we planned to record for many months, wanting this release to be the best we ever had. 

Before I had even gone out to the bar with Lars, I had already had a few bars at home, or what I had tried to make into my home. It was a home, yeah, but it didn't feel homey. There was no warmth or touch to it to make it seem whimsical or joyful. I know I have a problem, but what is there I can do. 

When I got there, Lars’s car was already outside, and I knew I was late by thirty minutes, having to build up the motivation to leave the house for a reason other than food, so trying to get up and socialize and talk about important stuff was not on my top choices to do.

I trudged in, my eyes darting around for the Danish, who was never that hard to find. And as I expected, I found him somewhat quickly, taking a seat next to him and ordering a drink for myself.

“Hey man, where the fock have you been? Been waiting here ages for ya,” Lars commented with his laugh, sipping on his own drink.

I just shrugged, “Sorry man, there was just…” I tried to think of a reasonable excuse, but none could come to mind. “Traffic, y’know, it gets bad around five or six, all those people getting off of work,” I explained, thinking I was an expert at this facade.

“Alright, whatever you say. Let's get to work now, yeah?” Lars tried to believe me, but it was clear he knew there was something more to what I said. 

I just nodded, “Yeah,” I answered, and Lars took out his notepad where he already had some ideas for songs. The mask was as strong as stone, no way to see in.

Or so I thought.

 Lars looked back to me, a thought popping back in his mind, “Traffic? There's normally not much in this area, I mean before you moved out of that place, shit, traffic was bad, but here? No way,” Lars questioned me, no longer believing a word I had said. 

“Well, I guess it was just different today…” I muttered, “Let's just start now, leave it be,”. Lars agreed reluctantly, and soon we were sharing ideas sas I jotted down lyrics, Lars taking turns as we debated on the new project.

Of course, as we worked, we were drinking. Me more than him, and it was getting me tipsy, and then drunk. Normally we wouldn't get drunk during lyric writing, just a bit.. Wobbly, I guess. We were just reviewing the lyrics for the third song we were jotting up and I had ordered another drink.

“Jesus man, you only focused on drinking? We got shit to do!” Lars complained to me, and I just shrugged. “Sorry, got my priorities here…” I joked, and Lars only gave a pity laugh.

“Is something up? You've been acting weird as hell for the last few months. We barely see you anymore, and when we do, you're late.” He informed me firmly, clearly not wanting to put up with my demeanor much longer.

“I'm fine, didn't I already tell you that?” I responded, and at this point I just wanted to go home. “Well, you can tell me it a million fuckin’ times and that doesnyt mean Ill believe you,” He rebuttled, and I sighed. “So, what's up with you?”

I didn't want to answer, well sober me would've deflected. But drunk me? He doesn't have much of a filter. Who does when they're drunk anyways?

“Nothings up with me, just dealing with shit…” I answered, taking another sip of my drink.

“Ok, well dealing with what?” 

“The breakup, and everything,” I answered, my eyes avoiding Lars’s own.

“Ohh, yeah, I see. What happened anyways? You never went into detail, just saying she kicked you out in the middle of the night. The fuck did you do to her?” He laughed, but the sting of the memories still remained.

“I.. well, I told her she was a shit cook, lazy, didnt work as hard me, and that groupies fuck better,” I admitted. Lars' face changed from a small smile to a look of shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah”

“What would make you say something like that?! That's totally messed up!” I knew this would be shocking, especially coming from me to say something like that. But I didn't expect him to be this shocked.

“No, I did it for a reason, I'm not just some asshole! I didn't want to break up with her, and I didnt want her to break up with me, but I knew I had to get her to break up with me. I keep drinking, and it makes me into… I don't know, I'm a different person and I don't want to hurt her. The only option was to force her to break up with me.” I tried to explain, but Lars was quick to respond.

“Only option?! Have you heard of rehab? Getting help? Did she just let you waste away?”

“I didn't want to go to rehab either, and no, she did try to help, but I don't want help…” It was getting embarrassing at this point, showing how weak I had become.

“James, not everything is about what you want! There's things you need to do, but you don't want to. Those are just as important.” He paused, hoping my worlds would process through me as he thought of an idea. “How about this, clean up your act a bit and I'll get her back over here and you can go back to paradise, alright?” Lars offered and I perked up a bit.

“How the hell do you expect her to come back to me after all of that?”

“I never said she'd come back to you, I said I can get her over here, make you guys talk or something.” He corrected me, and I just rolled my eyes.

“Well how are you gonna get her to come here? She probably hates me at this point,” 

“I have my ways, we were closer friends than you probably remember,” Lars’ words didn't help. He could never explain his plan, and that's what always ticked me off about him.

“Fine, whatever, work your midget magic or something,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, nothing, just do whatever it is, alright?” 

“Fine.”

— — — — > A WEEK LATER…

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

Time moves slow these days. But not in a bad way, it was nice that life was hitting the breaks a bit instead of the pedal. Though, that joy wouldn't last long.

I sat in my office chair at work, working on some papers my boss had handed me a few minutes ago. He was giving me stack after stack after stack of papers today, all coming with my promotion I got a bit back. More money means more work, and more work means more money, so I guess it isn't all too bad in the long run. I glanced up from my paper, eyeing the now double repurposed ashtray, one being made for the intents of cigarette butts, then guitar pics, and now it held my keys and some other trinkets, including one singular guitar pic of James, one of his favorites. 

I was startled out of my thoughts by hearing the office phone ring, quickly reaching to grab it, assuming it was a customer call.

“Hi, this is Capital Advisors, how can I help you?” I offered in a cheery tone, but the voice I heard response was not what I had expected.

“Hey man, look, it's Lars, something happened to James, you mind heading down to the studio?”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, Lars and I were close, but we haven't talked much since James and I’s break up. My words caught in my throat, processing the second half. “Something happened to James? What happened? Is he ok?” Even though he proved himself worthy of a break up, I still couldn't shake my love and worry for him.

“Uhhhh, yeah, no, sure he's fine, but you just needa come to the studio?” Lars rambled, not sure how to keep up his lie.

“Ok, yeah, of course, when do I need to be there?” My mind was racing, Lars wasn't being direct with what happened, so my mind could only think of the worst. He always poland things off to make them not seem as bad as they were. What if James fell and hurt himself? Overdosed on something? Only darker thoughts hit my mind.

“Like, now, this can't wait,” Lars demanded, and I had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah, I will be there as soon as I can, ok? Tell him I’ll be there soon, I don't want him to worry,” I gave in and then Lars thanked me and hung up. 

Now I don't know what to do. My boss wasn't the type of person to just let me leave whenever I want, and I had already promised to Lars I would be there immediately. Though, my worries got the best of me and I quickly began to gather my stuff together. I grabbed my keys and my purse, quickly heading to my boss's office. 

I always hated going in here, it was freezing since the AC was always blasted, and it reeked of musty air freshener. I gently knocked on the door before I heard his baritone voice respond, telling me to come in. I entered, seeing him sitting there, filing papers. 

“Can I help you?” He said in a monotone voice, opening and shutting cabinets.

“Yes, I need to leave, like right now. ITs an emergency, family matter,” I tried to briefly explain, but it didn't take long for him to come up with a new response.

“Emergency? Of what? Is someone dying?” His eyes looked up from his papers, meeting mine as he waited for an answer.

“I… Well, I don't know,” I muttered, and it was true, I really didn't. With Lars’ vagueness, I tru;y didn't have a reason to not assume James was already on his deathbed.

“How can you not know?” He questioned me as if I was stupid, then noticing my pale and shaky look of true worry, “Fine, yes, you can go, but you're leaving three hours early. I want you working those hours back tomorrow. Understood?” He finally made an offer, and I quickly accepted without hesitation.

“Yes, thank you, and I'm sorry,” I responded with a smile and a nod, quickly leaving the office and getting to my car as fast as possible. Lars never specified where exactly the studio was, but I had been there a few times with James to hear them practice and record. I did my best to remember the way there, speeding in some places and having to make a couple U turns to figure out the exact spot. The whole time my head was buzzing, I could not think of one normal reason as to why James would want me there. He clearly didn’t like me much towards the end, even though I still like to think he never meant it and that it was only the alcohol talking, but I was probably wrong. Why did I still care so much after being so wrongfully disrespected? Part of me still loved him. Still wanted to wake up next to him every morning, hear the faint strumming of a guitar whenever I came home from work. Now those days were gone, and never looked like they would return. I still worried for the worst for James, endless horrid possibilities arising in my brain, all trying to piece the puzzle together.

When I finally pulled up, I saw two other cars out in front, not seeing James’ car, assuming Lars gave him a ride and KIrk giving Jason one. No cop cars or ambulances or fire trucks, so he isn't dying, or maybe they already left. Maybe I was too late? 

I quickly got out of the car, almost running to the studio door, knocking until Lars came and opened it for me.

“Hey! There you are, took ya long eno-” Lars was quickly cut off by my own anxieties.

“Where is he? Is he ok? Was I not fast enough?” I quickly voiced out, my eyes darting around the inside and searching for him.

“Yeah, relax. He's fine. He's inside-”

“If he's fine then why did you make me come here from work?! I thought he was dying or something crazy,” I cut him off, questioning his efforts.

“No, none of that, you worry too much. He just wants to talk with you,” Lars answered, and my previous worries and a new suspicion grew in me.

“Just want to talk? Last time I talked with him he was critiquing me! He hates me! He doesn't want anything to do with me!” I voiced the feelings that had been clawing at me for months, never having anyone to tell them to.

“Or so you think. Look, just talk to him, that's all this is, ok?” Lars grew tired of my attitude and clearly I would have to give in soon.

“I want to, I want to talk to him, but I doubt he wants to talk to me,” I responded, trying to further explain my hesitations.

“I just told you that he wants to talk to you! Go in there, please!” Lars pleaded with me, and I sighed, finally agreeing.

“Ok, ok, I will,” I answered, beginning to head into the studio.

“Thank you! He's just down the hall, in that room with the sound equipment and everything,” Lars informed me, and I followed him, seeing James hunched over a table, scribbling down on a piece of paper. My heart was racing now. I hadn't seen him since that night. I didn't know what I would say to him, I was worried what he would say to me.

Then he looked up at me.

His cold, piercing blue eyes, a newfound softness in them as our eyes met. I avoided his eyes, but felt his lingering on me. Lars guided me in, shutting the door behind himself, leaving us alone. I was unsure of what to say, my eyes lingering on the floor, hearing James set down his pen.

“Uh… hi…” He started, probably just as unsure as I was.

“Hi,” I responded back shyly, avoiding his gaze, though I could still feel his own on me. The sound of footsteps approached me, instantly recognizing them as James’, and then I heard a click. Lars had locked us in here, now forced to talk.

“I.. I'm sorry, I really am,” He mumbled, and I looked up at him, seeing a true guilt in his eyes, “I wish I didn't do it, that I didn't say those things, that I didn't make you hurt so much like that… I should’ve been much more, well, mature about it. I feel like shit for everything,” James explained to me, but this only caused me to have more and more questions.  

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice still a hushed whisper as a wave of various emotions crashed down on me. “I had reasons for what I did, I just wish I went about it differently. I wish I had listened to you when you had offered me help. I didn't want to hurt you with my habits, and I couldn't break up with you, I didn't want to be the one to do that, so… so I tried to make you break up with me, and you did. Everything I said, it was a lie. I never meant it. You're a great cook, you work hard, you're just… you're amazing, you're too good for me.” James confessed, and I could feel a bit of the cold melt away, though still a hurt in my heart.

“Then why make me come and tell me all of this? This would only pour salt in that wound, no?” I was still confused at why he would make such an effort, but I still found it touching.

“Because I still love you. I want things back the way they were. I swear on everything, I've changed. I miss you more than anything-” I cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips, and he melted into me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting and loving embrace.

After James pulled away, he looked me in my eyes, “How could you forgive me for saying all of that to you?” He began, “Id think you would just… hate me, I was a total jerk,”

“Or so you'd think. I still love you and miss you more than you could imagine,” I responded with a  small smile, and James matched mine, kissing me again. “Can… can I show you how much I've missed you?” James asked in a mumbled tone, clearly a bit embarrassed. My cheeks heated up at his offer and I giggled, nodding as our lips met a third time, a new hunger and desire now displayed. Slowly, he walked me to the table until I had backed up into it, his hands trailing up my sides until we broke away, his lips now going down my neck, eliciting a needy whine from the back of my throat, my hands pulling him closer, snaking under his shirt to trace his skin. 

James’s fingers slipped under my shirt, working to get it off of my head, leaving my neck for only a second to remove the fabric before attaching himself to my sensitive flesh, feeling him suck and nibble, definitely leaving bruises. He gave a more harsh bite, causing me to whimper, then soothing it over with his tongue before pulling away. Soon his gaze focused on my breasts, still confined with my bra. His eyes met mine again, “Can I take it off?” He asked ,already reaching around my back to work on the clasp, which had become an easy task for him. I nodded, and soon the garment was now on the floor with my shirt. The cold air caused my nipples to erect immediately, and James’ eyes were locked on them, cupping the in his hands as he squeezed them and pinched at my nipples, making me make high needy sounds, causing him to smirk, kissing around the soft flesh, teasing me with every movement he made. 

I began to claw at his shirt, trying to take it off of him, so he reluctantly pulled away from my chest, removing his own shirt, giving me a view I had missed more than I care to admit. My eyes dragged slowly over the newly exposed skin, and his lips crashed down on mine again, pushing me back so far I was now laying down on the table, the cold wood causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I tugged at James’ pants, feeling myself grow wetter at the moment. He slipped down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers as you pulled down my skirt, leaving me in only my panties. I could see the bulge in his final layer grow at the new sight, and then he got on his knees, gripping the sides of my aunties and taking them off in a swift motion, leaving my glistening folds exposed to his hungry view.. His warm lips teased my thighs, kissing around the area I needed him most, making me writhe with desire. Eventually, his tongue found my center, giving it soft licks at first, parting my folds with his tongue. A moan escaped my throat, and James took it as his sign to keep going, burying his face between my thighs. He licked and sucked at my hole, probing at it with his tongue as his nose nudged my sensitive clit. My hand snaked into his long blonde locks, gripping his scalp tightly as I pulled him closer. I could hear him groan into my flesh, causing a vibration to coarse through me, making me moan again as I came closer to my first high. Eventually James moved further up, giving more attention to my aching clit, giving it gentle licks first to tease me before sucking it into his mouth, biting it softly, making me squeal from his ministrations.

“Jamei, fuck, Im gonna cum,” I whined out, tugging on hair harder, causing him to let out another low groan as he continued to feast on me. “Cum for me pretty girl,” He mumbled into my flesh, and like that my orgasm washed over me, a breathy moan falling my lips, feeling my core pulsate , releasing my grip on James’ head, allowing him to pull back.

James chin was drenched in my essence and his spit, some caught in his facial hair, wiping it off on the back of his hand. I dont think Ive seen anything hotter. His eyes landed on mine, and I noticed a lustful darkness in them, kissing me again as our tongues tangled in a battle for dominance, James winning in the end, and soon his boxers were on the ground, both of us bare in front of each other again.

JAmes broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, leaving new hickeys and bruises in his wake as they now peppered my neck. I felt his tip at my entrance and I squirmed, his lips leaving my bruised flesh. “You ready, baby?” He asked, taking my hand in his, and I nodded, feeling him slowly push into me, the stretching sensation stinging my insides, a delicious stretch my body had missed as I tried to accommodate his size. Once he was to the hilt, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, squeezing his hand tightly.

I gave him a look of a need, and he gook note, slowly beginning to pump his hips, untwining our fingers as he positioned himself with better support, placing his arms on either side of my head. With every thrust a moan escaped my throat, tears pricking at my eyes from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight… haven't had anything since me, hmmm?” James whispered to me, and I could only whine in response, his calloused fingers sneaking down to my clit, brushing the bud lightly with the pad of thumb, and I began to squirm around his cock, feeling his thrusts increase with speed, more grunts falling from James.

The table I laid on creaked beneath from our frevorus movements of need, completely forgetting we were still in the studio. The band was still in that studio. This room wasn't for recording, very little sound blockers. Anyone in this building could hear us. The thought didn't pass my mind once throughout the whole experience, only focused and becoming closer with James once again, not just in body, but in our connection reforming with every minstration from either of us.

James' thrusts grew relentless, only increasing the pleasure for both of us as he chased his own high, helping me with mine, continuing to toy with and stroke my clit, moans and whines leaving me with any movement he made. “So pretty like this, baby, taking me so well,” He groaned, his small grunts and moans filling my ears like sweet music. I began to buck my hips, knowing that my orgasm was approaching, James not far behind, his vocal expression of pleasure growing in number and volume, mixing with my own mewls and moans, that and the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, my nails clawing his back.

My eyes began to roll back, James’ name falling from my lips a thousand times as my legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him deeper to finally bring me to edge. James noticed and thrusted harder, hitting that special spot with every movement, making me have to cover my mouth with my hand, the unholy noises escaping me growing too loud for us to stay secret. James disapproved, “Mmmm, don't do that baby, let me hear you cum around my cock,” He cooed, and that was all the encouragement I needed to come over the edge, a high pitched moan coming from me, feeling my walls clamp down on James’ length, pulsating as waves of pleasure cascaded over me. James helped me ride through it, still rubbing my sensitive nub, his thrusts losing rhythm as he approached his own high.

“Fuck, sweetie, gonna cum inside you…” He grunted, his pace increasing as his movement became erratic with pleasure. “Take it, take it like a good girl, baby,” He moaned, his load shooting deep inside of me and painting my walls white with his seed. His hips sputtered, bucking into me as he collapsed on top of me, our sweaty foreheads clinging together as we both recovered from the intense orgasms, trying to catch our breath. James pressed soft, lazy kisses around my face, reminding me how much he loved me and how he'd never hurt me again if given the chance.

After a moment, we both had come down from our highs, James’ softening member sliding out of me with a pop. He looked down at the mess between my thighs, all evidence of our pleasure with each other. “Youre fuckin’ perfect,” He muttered, his eyes dragging over me.

“Are the groupies still better?” I teased him, remembering our bickering that was one real, or so I thought it was real fighting.

“Oh, hell no, they don't stand a chance to this,” He responded with a smile, and I smiled back.

We cleaned up, slipping back on our clothes so we were somewhat presentable. Only now did the realization that we were never once alone in this studio and the rest of the band was outside had hit me. A wave of embarrassment flowed over me, my cheeks flushing even more than they were before given the previous activities. Both James and I looked quite disheveled, our hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. I tried to shake off whatever nervousness I had in me as James put his arm around me. We went to reach for the door handle, only to find out it was still locked. Now it would be even more awkward. James knocked on the door from the inside, calling out to Lars, or anyone else in the studio.

“Guys? Lars? Can someone unlock the door?” And it wasn't long before footsteps approached, hearing a key click as the door swung open, Lars, more curious than ever eyed both my own and James’ appearance, noticing the hickeys, the slight wobble I gave, and any other imperfections that we might have displayed.

“I take it you two worked things out?”

— — — — > A FEW WEEKS LATER…

It had taken some time, a lot of talking, and more than just one hook up for James and I to work out any other issues that we had with each other. We met up a lot in the recent weeks after that, discussing different ways on how to help James with his drinking, and just trying to regain eachothers trust.

Soon enough though, James had moved back in with me. I kept my office space, but now the room was split in two halves. I worked in one half, while James did his guitar work in the other half. It was a fairly large room, so we both had our own spaces and rarely bothered each other. If I had a work call or anything that required silence, James would just migrate to the living room.

It was the same old schedule we had all those months ago, and I was now returning from work. It was Friday, now I would have plenty of time to relax and be with James. I pulled into the driveway, parking and getting out of my car as I walked up to the porch, the click of my heels following my steps on the cement. The lights were on, the door unlocked. I could hear a faint strumming coming from inside, meaning James was hard at work on new material for the album. It was my favorite thing to listen to while doing work assignments at home.

I walked in with a huff, setting down my purse and keys on the counter before heading to the shared office space. James wasn't playing much, just sounded like scales and chords for his warm ups. “How was work, baby?” James greeted me, still focused on his guitar. “It was a bit tiring, but it was good. I think my boss is starting to like me,” I answered, settling into my chair. He nodded in response, going back to fiddling with the strings.

It wasn't until a little later a soft, sweet and melodic tune had hit my ears. Much different than what Metallica normally plates. James hummed along to it, almost like he had lyrics already written out. But knowing him, he probably did.

“What are you playing? It sounds really nice,” I started, listening to a few more notes before continuing, “It's not what you guys normally play,” I commented, and James let out a deep hum in response. “Just something new I'm working on,” He replied, and I nodded, getting back to work.

Only this time, I couldn't focus. Normally James’s music helped me to focus, becoming a comforting background noise. This time though, I couldn't get my mind off of that melody. He kept going, and each second I kept getting more and more captivated by it. 

“That songs really pretty, I like it,” I said, scribbling down whatever notes I couldnt on a piece of paper. “Thanks, it's actually, uhm..” He trailed off, and I knew something was up. I spun around in my chair, going to face him. “It's what?” I asked, confused by his shy demeanor. 

“It's called ‘Nothing Else Matters’,” He stated, finally stopping picking at the strings. “Nothing Else Matters?” I repeated, connecting whatever the lyrics might be in my head to the melody. Normally their slower, melodic songs were dark and heavy topics, so I expected the same with this one.

“Yeah,” James answered, “I wrote the lyrics about you, actually,” He muttered softly, though I still picked it up. “About me?” I questioned, slightly shocked. “Yeah… I've thought a lot about, well, everything recently. Ever since that point a few months back I've reflected and everything… Rumors spread, and I just want everyone out there to get the right idea,” He paused, searching for the right words, “I want people out there to know that you're all I care about, you mean more than the world to me, and I want everyone to know that,” He stated, his tone true and emotional. I had never heard him say sweeter words to me, and I knew that he was speaking nothing other than the truth, I could see it in his eyes, there's a way to read people, and James wasn't easy to read, but you soon could learn the lingo.

“That means a lot to me, Jamie,” I answered, smiling at him. I got up from my chair to sit next to him on the couch, leaning against him. “Thank you,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “You don't need to thank me, sweetheart,” James responded, wrapping his arm around me.

And now, I knew my whole world was whole again. What was once hatred, or so I thought was hatred, was once again love, everything as it should be.

[httpiastri]

is it too early to ask for a fic abt imola's sprint race and how upset and angry paul was after the race ...

idk if this is what u wanted but i just felt like writing this. hope u like it <3 (still very much not over what happened)

four podiums in four rounds.

a consistent result like that should make any f2 driver satisfied.

should.

consistency is key, as you've seen so often in formula racing, but how can you tell that to someone who was just closer than ever to getting his maiden win in formula two?

to say that paul was a wreck after the race is an understatement. he refused to talk to you or any of his staff members – he even refused to talk to ralf, which was more worrisome than everything else. though, it didn't take you long to realize that he just needed to cool off on his own, just get some time to breathe in peace. so when he went back to your shared hotel room, you decided to stay at the track a little to watch the f1 qualifying, just so paul could have his much-needed alone time.

when you finally step into your hotel room hours later, after having gotten stuck in several tailbacks on your way back from the track, paul isn't resting on the bed like you thought he would be. he doesn't answer when you call out his name either, which really gets your heartbeat going.

you find him in the bathroom when you peek into it, his body submerged in the bathtub filled to the brim with foam and seemingly steaming water. you're not sure if he's even heard you come in because he doesn't move a single muscle nor open his eyes. he slowly looks up at you when you say his name again, though, eyes holding so much pain that the knot in your stomach grows even tighter. you have to do something, anything, to break him out of this cycle.

"can i join?"

it takes a second for him to react, but then he nods, and you step into the room. you slip out of the cute summery dress you've worn all day, removing all of your last clothing items aswell as your jewelry before moving towards him. the bathtub is tiny, nowhere near than ones you've shared before in luxury hotel rooms around the world. there's barely any space left for you to slip in, but you make it work.

the second your back meets his chest, his strong arms wrap around you and a content sigh leaves his mouth. neither of you care about the water flowing past the edge as you shuffle into his embrace; a wet floor is a problem for later. the bath soap he's used smells lovely, a mix of vanilla and rose meeting your nose and making you forget about how the water is burning your skin already. paul doesn't say anything, although he rests the side of his head against yours, warm breaths tickling the skin of your neck.

you take the opportunity to speak when you're met with it. you can't just let it go on like this all night. "do you... want to talk about it?" you ask, voice low as if not to scare him. as if the mere thought of the race is enough to scare him.

he lets out a hum. "no."

you pause for a few moments, considering the idea of just letting go of the topic. you decide that you can't. "can i talk about it, then?"

"i can't stop you, can i?"

you lift one of his hands from your waist, letting your pointer finger trace along his own fingers. they're pruney and soft, revealing how long he must've been in the bath already, while the calluses along the upper part of his palm from endless hours of racing and weightlifting stay hardened. you slot your fingers in between his, wrapping your other hand around the back of his hand too.

"no matter if you like to hear it or not," you begin. "you did well. that was an amazing race."

"but-"

a dismissive sound bubbles from your throat to cut him off. "no buts. it could've just as well gone your way today." you shift in his hold and turn your head so that you can look into his pretty blue eyes, and he already looks much calmer than before. "it's okay to fall apart, but we're building you up stronger for tomorrow. okay?"

his breath rises with his deep breath, and he soon nods. you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, and then you can't help but to give him another one. and another. and one to the tip of his nose, one to his forehead, one to that spot right by his temple that he loves so much.

finally he smiles, and he looks almost relieved to do it; like it's been ages since he had something to be happy about. he even lets out a small laugh when you keep up with your pecks, and he has to place a hand on your cheek to halt your actions.

he guides you forward, slotting your lips against his, before letting his hand glide to the back of your neck to keep you close.

hopefully you've actually gotten through to him. in the world of f2, every setback feels like tall mountain you have to climb; losing a race lead is like reaching the summit only to slip right back down again. it sounds like an impossible task, and if it were up to you, you would tell him to save himself the heartbreak and get an easier job. but racing is what he loves.

and together, you make it work.

no matter if it's about fitting into a small bath or coming back better the next day.

[megamindsecretlair]

I would love a stunna cabin getaway mixed with some bdsm please babe

A/N: So um, I kinda ran away this, lol

It's Written in the Stars

Pairing: Soft Dom!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. FLUFF. Angst if you squint. Cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), fingering (fem receiving) teasing, cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise/degradation kink, bondage, all consensual. D/s lite. Mentions of fertility issues, guilt, negative self talk (please seek help)

Summary: See Ask. While you were going through fertility issues, you were being hard on yourself. Hating to see you like this, Stunna prepares a beautiful weekend away so that you can unwind and refocus on each other. You get a little more than you bargained for.

Word Count: 9,646k

AO3 Link

A/N: I had been wanting to get this out before the heat went away fro the winter time. Ah well LOL. Whew. Idk where all this came from. My hormones all over this place, chilleee. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your husband hated you. Surely, he did. You watched his goofy ass skip to the front door to lock it, whistling all the while. He wore a burgundy shirt stretched tight over his muscles and black jeans that hugged his ass just right.

He was lucky he was so fine. More than fine, your husband made your toes curl every single day. Just with a single look. Every day felt like never enough when it came to him. You sighed, looking away briefly before you started crying.

You were starting to get those kind of looks. The pitiful, poor thing type of looks that made you feel crazy when you weren’t. Stunna did so much for you, every day. The least you could do, the very least was to give him a baby. A cute little son that just looked like him so that he could break the cycle. Raise a Black boy in love and happiness.

And you couldn’t even do that right. The past few months as you both began trying in earnest, you started to hate the tests. The waiting was the worst part. Like you were both hopeful and trying to prepare for the worst news. And as soon as it turned negative, you both sighed and he would comfort you.

But god, you felt like a failure. You succeeded everywhere else in life. Going to school, landing a good job, and having good friends. Why couldn’t you excel at this too? 

“Get that frown off your face, beautiful,” Stunna said, climbing into the rental truck. He closed the door and then grabbed your left hand. He brought it to his lips and then looked at you. 

“This weekend is about rest. We’ve been caught up on the results and not the action. We forgot that it’s us underneath all this, right?” He asked. 

You mumbled your affirmation, not brave enough to meet his eyes. He put on such a good front for you. But you knew he was just as disappointed. You spent plenty of nights dreaming of your future kids. Wondering what kind of personality they would have, what kind of hobbies they would develop. 

You had silly arguments about hypothetical situations your kids would get into. Or if they would favor one parent over the other. You even went to bed giggling, pretending to call your child’s full government name. You cuddled in the morning and praised one another about what a good parent the other would make. 

“Look at me, baby,” Stunna said. When you didn’t move fast enough for him, he grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. 

“I love you just as much as the first time I laid eyes on you,” he said.

“Boy, stop,” you said, lips twisting to fight off a smile. 

Stunna kissed your hand and then took a big bite. It didn’t sting, it only made your stomach do silly flips. You were unnaturally horny. You hadn’t taken drugs through this whole thing, wanting to do it the good old fashioned way like everyone else. But you were approaching ovulation and fuck if you weren’t hot and bothered by the smallest thing.

It didn’t help that nearly everything out of this man’s mouth was either sweet or nasty. No inbetween. 

“We’re going to relax this weekend, okay? Promise?” He asked.

You nodded, a little more convinced. You were allowed one weekend to rest. One weekend to sit and unwind and not have a care or worry in the world. You were allowed that at least. You leaned back in the seat while Stunna started the car. He backed out of your driveway  and headed up the street, leaving the familiar houses behind and then merging onto the freeway.

He drove from late afternoon into the evening, driving further west. He said he found a near-ish Air B&B that was perfect for “what he had planned”. What he could possibly plan between earlier this month when he told you about the trip to now, was beyond you and you didn’t want to make yourself sick thinking about it. 

Night time made the city outside light up so prettily in golds and softest whites. The street lamps overhead passed by, temporarily illuminating the car’s interior. You held onto Stunna’s hand as he drove or sometimes he let it drift to your thigh. 

You talked, you laughed, you pretended like you were back in college when you first met. You pretended that you were just a girl in the quad and he was the boy that almost hit you with a football. 

He teased you that day, drawing your ire so that he could disarm you with something so sweet and devastating, you were agreeing to have dinner with him before your mind could catch up. 

You were the car’s DJ and kept Stunna awake with stories about work or your friends, or updates on the craziest member of your family. He told you about his usual days, dealing with the people who work for him.

By the time eight at night rolled around, Stunna pulled onto a long, winding street that was so dark, the headlights only caught five feet in front of you. It had turned mountainous, with curving, man made roads. There were only a handful of guard rails around steep turns but the road was pretty open.

“Where did you book us?” You asked, looking outside of the window. 

“I know, it looks scary as shit. But I promise it’s not bad,” he said. 

You gripped onto his hand anyway, looking out of the window for any glimpse of the world. Any sign of life. There was just the feeling of woods on either side. The road turned to light gravel as Stunna traveled further down the path. The headlights flashed over a mailbox and then Stunna turned left, pulling into a driveway.

The cabin itself was too cute for words. Looked like it was built out of actual logs, with a huge porch and dark fixtures around the foundation and windows. Outside of the house, there was plenty of room to park a few cars or make one good turn and then exit. 

“Oh, this is beautiful,” you said. The moon overhead gave it a soft glow that was straight out of a puzzle box. Stunna cut the engine and then got out of the car. He walked around to your side and opened the door for you, taking your hand and helping you out of it.

“There’s no other neighbors for a few miles in any direction. There’s a police and fire station nearby in case anything pops off. We can unwind here,” he said. He wrapped his hands around your waist and kissed you. His full lips lingered, kissing you without abandon, lighting that familiar fire between your legs. He ended the kiss with one final swipe of his tongue across your lips. He smiled at you and then walked with you up the stairs. 

He unlocked the front door and then turned on the nearest light. The inside was just as cute. There were handmade blankets on the thick leather couches. The rug in the living room was thick and plush with a digital fireplace. 

“Oh this is gorgeous,” you said.

Stunna chuckled. “Yeah, took a lot of research to find one that suits my plans,” he said. He kissed your cheek. 

“You keep mentioning these plans, should I be nervous?” You asked, giggling to yourself. 

“Yes, you should be,”Stunna said, giving you a wink and a sexy smile before going outside. You walked further into the house, taking in the layout. It opened directly into the living room and stairs faced you, a second floor revealed up top. 

Behind the living room, there was a roomy kitchen with nice, almost new appliances. Must be nice to be able to afford that stuff for a rental property. You had brought groceries with you and you were never more grateful that Stunna’s favorite hobby was cooking.

You were treated to all kinds of delicious food, willingly becoming his guinea pig when he wanted to try out something. Your back would never not be big. You liked to cook, but the chore of it bored you to tears. Hours of work to eat it in minutes and spend forever trying to clean up. Spare you, please. 

Stunna made plenty of noise coming into the house with your suitcases and bags. He also had a mysterious third bag with him that he told you was off limits. Naturally, it only made you more curious to know what was inside. You supposed you’d have to be good and wait. 

Stunna brought the luggage upstairs and you followed lazily behind, searching the other rooms to find a home office, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms. Stunna set the luggage down in the master’s room, lots of space and it smelled clean. 

The bed was made up with a modest blue comforter and a gray throw blanket thrown across the bottom. The walls were a gentle yellow with different pieces of art on the walls. 

There was an ottoman at the foot of the bed that Stunna set your suitcase and bag on. He rolled his to his side of the bed and came back around the bed. He grabbed your face and pulled you into a big, wet kiss that curled your toes in your shoes. 

“Sit your sexy ass down and I’ll lock up. Then, we relax,” he said. 

You shook your head and threw your hands up. Stunna said that he wanted you to relax this weekend and not lift a finger. You wanted to argue the point but he brought out his Dom voice and you folded like origami. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said. You made a show of walking over to the bed and then turning around to sit. You lowered your ass to the bed, watching Stunna’s smile spread across his face. He sighed and shook his head.

“Gonna hurt me, girl,” he said. 

He left the room and made quick work of locking up the car and then checking all of the locks to the house. You heard him humming as he moved around, the sound going in and out as he moved about. 

He returned in no time, carrying two hangers with plush robes on them. “Stunna! What is this?” You asked. 

“We had a long ass day and deserve to get pampered on. Run us a bath and I’ll get some snacks and wine going,” he said.

“You are too much, you know that? You really planned this whole weekend?”

Stunna crossed the room and then laid the robe down on the bed. He pulled you to a standing position, putting his hands around your waist. You brought your hands around his neck, kissing his nose as he looked down at you. 

“I have one job this weekend. That job is to get you nice and relaxed. To make you feel good. Loosen up that sexy body so I can plant a baby in there,” he said. 

“Oh,” you gasped, eyes snapping to his. 

His dark eyes glowed with mischief with a cheeky smile spreading across his face. He leaned down and kissed you, turning it from something sweet to something hot. He tugged on your bottom lip before smoothing the pain away with a lick of his tongue. 

“It’s not your fault I’m barren,” you said, sulking. You tried to pry yourself away from him but he held onto your waist.

“Baby, I’m not doing my job if you think I’m not proud of you or in love with you throughout this whole thing. You’re not barren, we’re just sucking the fun out of it. And that includes me,” he said. 

You opened your mouth to argue with him but he beat you to it with a kiss to your lips. You giggled and he smiled. “We can play the blame game all night. Or, we can get this night started. I promise you’ll like the second option better,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and smiled, unable to resist this time. “Second option it is,” you said. If the goal was to relax, then you were going to help him achieve it by listening and accepting some damn comfort for once. 

This time was stressful, made more stressful by the fact that you have something tangible telling you no. Some stupid ass stick crushing your dreams over and over again. You were going to cry it out and then thug it out. 

“That’s my girl. Get that bath running how we like,” he said. 

He released your waist and then tapped your ass. You jumped and covered your butt, turning back to look at his wide grin. He gestured for you to keep going so you did, heading into one of the available bathrooms. 

Stunna passed you in the hallway, going to a cabinet to dig out towels for the both of you. You turned on the light in the bathroom, taking in all of the details. The walls were covered in white subway tile halfway up the wall, the rest was covered in a deep rose color. The floor was tile as well, cold to the touch but there were a lot of rugs to cover your feet with. 

You looked into the tub to find it pristine. Whoever cleaned in between uses was phenomenal. You’d have to check for a card or something later. You fiddled with the knobs, turning on the hot water and finding the stopper. 

While the water ran, you grabbed your favorite neutral body soap and poured it into the bathwater to get it nice and soapy. 

Stunna came in and out of the bathroom to check the progress. He brought your two robes into the bathroom and hung it up on the inside of the door. He brought you a glass of wine and kissed your head upon delivery. 

“Here you are,” he said with a fake British accent, presenting the glass as if it were brought especially for you. You giggled when you took it, taking a sip and letting the wine travel down your system and instantly warm you up from the inside out. 

The water was nearly finished so you turned it off and then got the shower going. You took off your clothes, kicking them to one side of the bathroom. You wrapped your hair into a bonnet, then placed a shower cap on top.

You scrubbed excess dirt and grime from the day and from the car ride, lathering up every inch of your skin. You rinsed off and then got out of the shower just as Stunna brought in a dinner tray with a charcuterie board on top of it. 

You dried your hands and instantly went for the salami and a piece of cracker. You moaned at the simple taste, chasing it down with a sip of wine. Cool air hit your naked skin so you shivered and then hopped in the bath. 

Stunna positioned the tray next to the tub, within easy reach of anyone sitting in it. He pressed a button on a hidden remote that he conjured from nowhere. Sexy, grown music filtered in from hidden speakers in the room. You gasped and looked around, hearing the music like an echo in other rooms. Stunna grinned, pleased as punch, and then he gave you a strip tease. 

“Whew, go baby. Go baby!” You chanted, miming throwing money at him. He danced his way through taking off his shirt and pants. Next went his underwear, freeing his long, thick dick. You licked your lips at it, watching it bob up and down with his dancing. He turned around and started twerking, mimicking what you do to him. You laughed so hard that your sides hurt.

He hopped in the shower next, washing off his own dirt and grime. You went for a grape on the tray, settling back into the tub with a loud sigh. Stunna turned the shower off, shaking out the excess water and then slunk into the tub with you.

He jostled the water and fresh warmth enveloped you. If you weren’t careful, you were going to fall asleep against his chest. 

“You feeling good?” Stunna asked. 

In this position, you felt the rumble in his chest from his deep voice. And he placed his mouth near your ear so you had a wonderful echoing effect going on that made your pussy clench with need. 

Every time with him felt like the first time. Back in college once more, heavy makeout sessions leading to something more desperate as he climbed on top of you and begged to make you feel good. And god, did he. And had been doing so ever since then. As often as you wanted it or needed it. 

Stunna ran his hands all over your wet skin, playing with the soap bubbles around your limbs. You followed with your own hands, tangling your fingers together whenever you connected. He palmed your breasts, rubbing soap between your nipples and his fingers. You gasped and writhed underneath his touch but he only cooed at you to remain still. 

“Baby, you have to know that sometimes it takes longer than others. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean that anything is broken,” he said.

“It feels like that. I’ve been good at everything else,” you said. You placed your fingers on top of his, moaning slightly when your nipples sent a twinge of pleasure to your pussy. Stunna dried his hands on the hand towel that sat on the lid of the tub and then grabbed a few grapes, passing some to you and eating a few of his own.

He chewed and brought his fingers back to your skin. His hands lowered to your belly. For no reason at all, or perhaps for every reason, your eyes welled with unshed tears. 

“There’s no right or wrong way to do this,” he whispered in your ear. 

“I just want to make you happy,” you said, settling against his chest. He kissed your temple, plucking at your nipple.

“Ouuue, shit,” you hissed. 

“You make me so happy my chest feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. You already make me happy and no kid is going to accelerate that or change that. If we do have kids, great. If we don’t, that’s great too. You are the love of my life. I just want you safe and happy,” he said. 

You sighed. You wished you could see his face. See how he really felt. Stunna had never minced his words when it came to your relationship. You knew every deep and dirty thing he’d ever done to become the man he is today.

But he also turned his life around when he got with you. He cleaned up his act, got a steady job, and put in the hours to give you a life you deserved. You told him that you were good with just him but he promised to work hard. He started his own consulting company, having a great mind for business. Now he got paid to tell companies how to do better. 

So you chose to believe his words. “You’re going to make a fantastic father, Stunna,” you said. You went to bed at night with daydreams about Stunna playing catch with his son, or taking his daughter out for little dates so she wasn’t impressed by a lame guy trying to court her. 

It was all so vivid, so right, so real that reality and fantasy started to blur. You wanted the white picket fence, Stunna barbequing, while you ran around the backyard with your kids. Playing, roughhousing, or getting into water balloon fights. 

“I want you happy too. Can you honestly say that you’re not disappointed that we’re not pregnant yet?” You asked. You sat up and turned in the tub to face him.

Stunna grabbed your chin and then pulled you into a sweet kiss. “I’m disappointed at the results. Not that you can’t deliver. It’ll happen when it’s time. For now, we just have to enjoy the journey there,” he said.

He kissed you once more and then grabbed your shoulders to turn you around. You listened to the music and the cadence of Stunna’s voice as he talked. He massaged your shoulders, your arms. He kneaded your breasts, back to playing with the nipple and getting you so riled up that you were causing a wave in the water with how badly you were grinding into Stunna.

His dick sat heavy behind you, poking the top of your ass. You placed your hands on his thighs to scoot up since you had drifted too far down. Stunna hissed and then groaned, placing his hands on your shoulders to still your movements.

“I’m trying to be good,” he said. 

“But why?” You asked, shaking your ass on him. Stunna groaned and then choked on a laugh. 

“Because I have plans,” he said.

Your pussy throbbed, picturing what dirty fantasies he had conjured up for this trip. You figured that you’d have some lazy sex, try some tricks to get his cum to swim upstream, and then you’d wait for the hopeful sign on the stick. 

Stunna was having none of that. He was weaving an entire filthy weekend just for you. It made you want to cry. But instead, you moaned and arched your back against him. “Sounds like we need to get started,” you said.

Stunna chuckled. “You’re on my time,” he said. His voice turned deeper and more serious. You moved your head to the side so that you could look at him. 

He grinned and kissed your cheeks, leaving a series of kisses that made you squeal with laughter. 

You continued to bask in the tub, refilling it with hot water when the water grew too tepid. You ate most of the board, filling up on crackers, cheese, grapes and little slices of meat. The wine paired perfectly. 

Stunna got out of the tub first and then helped you out of it. He moaned in appreciation, watching the suds slip down your body. You watched him just as much, the slide of bubbles in all the right places. 

He grabbed a towel and then wrapped you up in it, drying you off. You sighed and closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his big, strong hands working their way across your body. He knelt down to get your legs too, following your dry legs with bites or kisses or licks. 

You giggled as he found ticklish spots on you. He teased you anyway until you were screaming for him to stop. Fully dry, it was your turn to dry him off. You took your time, starting with his back and drying off his well-rounded ass. You crossed to the front and dried off his chest, working lower and lower, and taking extra care with his dick.

Even at rest he was thick and beautiful. You stroked him and his eyes fluttered shut, a grin on his face. “I’m gon’ get you back for this,” he said.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” you said. You grinned and then traveled further down, drying off his legs. You looked up at him from on your knees and Stunna smirked at you. “So pretty on your knees, baby.”

Your brain turned to mush as his words registered. “You nasty,” you said, unable to form a single coherent thought to flirt back. Stunna helped you to your hands and then took one of the robes and helped you into it. 

He turned you around, tying the robe across your front. “Comfortable?” He asked.

“Very. Thank you,” you said, leaning up to kiss him. He hummed and then grabbed his own robe. He unplugged the tub and the drain groaned as the water went down. He brought the tray and his wine glass to the kitchen. You followed behind with your own glass. 

The music was still going, playing “P.O.V.” by DVSN. You swayed to the music. Stunna refilled both of your glasses. Then he went into the living room with you. He let you take a sip of your wine, the sweet red loosening you up completely. 

Worries slipped from your mind. You lowered your defenses, living in the present. Stunna took your cup and placed it on the wooden coffee table. He grabbed your hands and then pulled you in front of the fireplace.

Heat blew out from it, warming up your legs. You moaned at the sensation. Stunna pulled you into a dance, wrapping his hand around your waist and then holding up your other hand. He swayed you to the music, staring deep into your eyes.

“I love you so much,” you told him. This was exactly what you needed. A moment in time to unwind, de-stress, and focus on you. Focus on your love for your man. 

“I love you. So, so much,” he said. He kissed your forehead and continued to spin you around in circles, each track he put on more nasty than the last. 

It was rare when your body felt at rest. When nothing hurt, nothing affected you, or irritated you. When you truly felt relaxed. Sure, you laid down. Sure, you had your hobbies or watched TV, but your mind still raced. Running faster than the Energizer bunny hopped up on speed and coffee. 

It was no wonder why you were always so damn tired. Your mind rarely gave you a night off. Stunna helped you achieve that tonight. That single perfect feeling of being at rest. Just feeling. Being. Wrapped up in his arms and letting go of the weight of your problems. 

“Hmm, feeling good, baby?” Stunna asked, hugging you closer. 

“Yes, baby,” you said, snuggling further into his chest. He could always sense your moods. You didn’t want to burden him with the darker thoughts. The creeping, intrusive thoughts that screamed that you were being punished for whatever crime you could think of. That you couldn’t get pregnant because you didn’t live a good life. You didn’t always smile and wave at people or you didn’t always keep elevator doors open for people. You were more introverted, genuinely sitting and judging people while you sat in your corner and dreamed of being anywhere else. You’ve made people cry and didn’t feel an ounce of regret for your words. 

Stunna pulled back to look at you. You smiled sweetly at him, turning your thoughts away from your failures and focused on him. Always on him. Always. He made everything better. He brought you peace in a way that was indescribable. 

Stunna smiled as if he could hear every thought you had about him. He kissed you and you hummed. You pulled away with a yawn and Stunna laughed, shaking his head while he kept dancing with you. 

“We better take this to the bedroom while I can still think,” you said and smiled at him. All this pampering made you beyond sleepy. Heavy. 

“No sex tonight, babe,” he said. 

He continued dancing, twirling you around the room to the mournful crooning of “Die For You” by The Weeknd. You tilted your head and blinked at him. Surely he didn’t mean that. Stunna turned to you and chuckled. He kissed your cheek.

“Tonight, we’re resting,” he said.

“But…dick is resting,” you said. 

Stunna chuckled again and shook his head. “It is not. C’mon baby, trust me. Who takes care of you?” He asked and kissed your cheek.

You sighed heavily and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. “You do,” you said.

“Who takes care of you?” He asked again and kissed your other cheek. 

Your lips pinched as you fought your smile. “You do,” you said when you could trust that you wouldn’t laugh. 

“Alright then. We getting some rest tonight, we gonna have a delicious breakfast, and I’m going to take care of everything,” he said.

“Yes, baby,” you said.

“Mhm, it’s ‘yes, Sir’,” Stunna said, his voice adopting your favorite tone. His Dom voice. Whew. It was like a direct line to your pussy. You immediately started throbbing, biting your lip instinctively. 

“Sir?” You asked, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. 

“You heard me. Now get that look off your face, I said no sex tonight.” He tapped your nose, belying his serious tone. But he already got the engine going. You rubbed yourself against him. You hummed as you did so, admiring the feel of his body hidden beneath his robe. 

“I promise you’ll enjoy this weekend more if you listen,” he said. He raised an eyebrow at you, his jaw flexing with his ‘serious’ face. You grinned and ignored him, turning in his arms and rubbing your ass on his crotch.

He hissed and his hand came to press down on your back. The music switched to something more upbeat, “679” by Fetty Wap bringing out your inner whore. He couldn’t put something like that on without expecting you to shake it on him. He knew what trap songs did to you. 

He began to dance on you back, pushing his growing bulge into your ass. You danced for the entire song, showing out for him. You got your knees involved, not an easy thing these days, and danced on him like you were trying to get him to propose all over again. 

When the song ended, you fell into each other laughing. You coughed and then laughed again, out of breath from dancing and from laughing so hard. The next song slowed everything back down and Stunna pulled you into his arms.

“You gon’ pay for that in the morning,” he said.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” you said and stuck your tongue out at him. 

Stunna gasped and widened his eyes at you. Even you couldn’t mistake the glint of mischief in his eyes. As much as he liked your obedience, you knew he secretly loved your bratty ass. 

“C’mon Miss Big Bad, it’s time for bed,” he said.

“Booo, you’re no fun,” you said. 

Stunna laughed. He grabbed the remote from his robe pocket and switched off the music. You crossed your arms and cocked a hip for good measure. 

“It’s almost three am. Get in the bed,” he said. 

“It is?” You asked. You patted your robe for your phone but it wasn’t there. Did you leave it in the bathroom? You intended to hunt for it to check the time. Stunna stopped you with his hands on your shoulders. He flipped you around to see the digital clock on one of the end tables.

“Oh, damn,” you said. You yawned, confirming that it was well past your bedtime. “Sure I can’t convince you for some fun?” 

Stunna turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room, following behind your heavy footfalls down the hallway. “I’m sure. This is my weekend,” he said.

You giggled, growing delirious with sleepiness. You were at the point where you were yawning every two seconds, growing frustrated from doing it so often. Stunna steered you to the bedroom and helped you strip out of the warm robe. He took off his own and hung it in the closet. 

Stunna pulled the covers down and you scooted onto the bed. You sighed. What spell did he put on you? You were drained. You had absolutely nothing left when just a few minutes ago, you were shaking your ass harder than a stripper working off her debt. 

Stunna got into bed with you and then snuggled in close against your back. He was so damn warm. You moaned, stretching out against him, pushing your ass into his dick. Stunna wrapped his arm around your middle.

“Night, baby,” he said.

Your body melted against his, sweet lullaby of his breathing sending you off to la la land. Stunna nudged you. “Nha?” 

“Good night, baby,” he said. 

“Ni-” You yawned. 

Stunna nudged you again. You giggled. “Nighty night, Sir,” you said. 

Stunna chuckled. He kissed your cheek. “I just want you to remember that you brought this weekend on yourself,” he said. 

The threat would have worked if you heard it. You were already fast asleep, drifting into a dreamless wonderland.

After a shower to wake yourself up, you followed the heavenly aroma of Stunna’s cooking. You padded down the hallway in your robe. You found Stunna in the kitchen, humming to himself with a towel thrown over his shoulder. 

He wore his robe as well, taking a scoop of what he cooked and tasting it. He hummed in satisfaction and then sprinkled some more pepper on it. He turned to the doorway when he heard your knock on the counter. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said.

You smiled at him and sat on the barstool. Stunna brought the pan over to you so that you could see what was on the menu. He made a scramble of eggs, sausage, bell peppers, and onions. The smell alone made your mouth water. 

You moaned and smiled at him. “That smells so good,” you said.

“I’m glad. You’re going to need your strength today,” he said. 

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “Promises, promises,” you said. Stunna turned to look at you. He saw your evil smile and shook his head.

“Okay, just wait,” he said. 

You talked about nothing in particular, talked just to hear his voice, as you discussed your families, your work schedules. You discussed the latest books you both had read while you ate his delicious food. Each bite burst with flavor between all the different breakfast foods. Stunna should’ve opened a damn restaurant. 

Stunna made himself some coffee and then tea for you. You doctored it while you told him a story about your annoying coworker, only feeling slightly bad about mocking their exact tone of voice whenever they talked to you. 

When both of your drinks were to your respective tastes, Stunna took your hand and led you towards the back of the house. You hadn’t had a chance to explore out here yet. The hallway was in the same soft tones as the rest of the house and the short hallway behind the kitchen led out to a back porch. 

You gasped, taking in the view. “Oh. My. God,” you said, looking out at the expanse of the woods. The house sat on a hill, overlooking the top of the trees. Beyond it, you could see right down into the city. 

With the morning’s soft oranges and babiest blue, the view was like out of a painting. Birds chirped in the background, sounds of the woods waking up. Water ran somewhere in the distance. A woodpecker tested his beak against a tree. 

“This is…” you said.

“Amazing, I know,” he said and laughed. He led you to a nearby swinging bench. The wood was light colored, with white and blue striped cushions. You shrieked and looked at him. 

“There will be plenty of time to read out here, promise,” he said, reading your mind.

You sighed at him. “I don’t deserve you,” you said.

“Sure you do, baby. You make me wanna do better,” he said. 

“You already are,” you said. He sat down on the swinging bench first, putting his coffee on the wood stump beside it. It had been sanded and polished, providing a natural table to set your own cup down. 

Stunna pulled you to sit in his lap. When you looked at him, he just smiled innocently. You turned back around, suspicion clearly written all over your face. Stunna went for the tie at your waist, tugging on it.

“What are you doing?” You asked, covering the front of the robe with your hands.

“Move your hands,” he said, his voice turning darker. It was completely at odds with the early morning peace. 

You looked back at him. Stunna grabbed your legs and spread them over his own, widening your legs until you felt the pull in your thighs. You lowered your hands and Stunna untied your robe, pulling it open to reveal your entire body. 

You wanted to cover up, you were so exposed. Anyone could be lookin at you. You pictured some freak in the woods at this exact moment, peeking through his binoculars. Stunna moved his hands up and down your body, squeezing your breasts, your tummy, and then palming your mound.

You twitched with a moan, trying to close your legs. Stunna widened his stance, opening your legs wider for his searching fingers. He brought one hand up to your lips. “Suck,” he commanded.

Heat flashed over your skin. A tingle working its way down your spine. You opened your mouth and sucked on his middle two fingers. He fucked your mouth with his fingers, pushing it in and out, and hummed as he leaned to the side to watch you. You felt him throb beneath your ass and you moaned. 

It had been entirely too long since he dominated you so well. In all the mix of having sex, you forgot what it was like to tease. To flirt. To obey. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, eyeing him as you did so. You moaned once more on his fingers. 

“Hm, nasty ass. Get it nice and wet,” he said. 

You drooled on his fingers, growing wetter by the second. He continued to push his fingers inside. Your eyes drooped, watching him bite his lip. Watching his eyes turn darker. His jaw flex. All of it made it harder to breathe properly. 

Stunna pulled his fingers out and you whimpered, pouting at him. He used one hand to spread your pussy lips and then brought his wet fingers to your entrance, pushing in. You moaned, head falling back onto his shoulder. You gasped, your lip quivering. 

“Did sucking my fingers turn you on?” He asked.

You nodded, whimpering too much to answer him. Stunna chuckled. “Nasty fuckin’ slut,” he said, pushing his fingers in deeper.

“Fuu–,” you moaned, clenching around his fingers. You began to twitch and jerk on his body, alternating between gasping for air and moaning. Stunna didn’t give you an inch. He continued to finger fuck you, curling his fingers inside and making you cross your eyes.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” you moaned. 

Stunna stilled his fingers. You whimpered and gyrated on his fingers. Stunna kissed your ear and your jaw, pulling his fingers slowly out of you. You whimpered more as he dragged his wet fingers up to your clit.

You throbbed. You wanted to cum so badly, you were willing to do some unholy things for it. “Please,” you whispered. 

“Remember when you didn’t listen yesterday?” He asked. He kissed your cheek after his question and you stuttered with your next breath. 

“Aww, don’t punish me, Stunna,” you said. You gasped after you said his name, realizing your mistake. 

Stunna sighed and nudged his nose against your ear. He nibbled on the shell of your ear while he moved his fingers in giant circles, making your lower belly cramp with need. “See, I was gonna let you cum. But that mouth reckless,” he said.

“Wait–”

Stunna shushed you, moving his left hand under your leg and lifting. You were already spread open as far as you were able. Lifting it ensured that you didn’t move without his say-so. 

“The things I was gonna treat you to,” he said, and hummed. His dick throbbed beneath you and you whimpered. 

“I can be good–”

Stunna shushed you again, plunging his fingers back inside. His fingers stretched you, preparing you for what he was going to do next. He drove your orgasm to the peak, holding you open when you wanted nothing more than to trap his hand between your thighs. You rode his fingers, gasping for air.

“Needy little slut, too? Chase that shit since you want it so bad,” he said. You moaned, wrapping your arms behind his head. You scratched at the nape of his neck while he sent you into another atmosphere. 

“Oue, oue, oue!” You screamed, your belly tightening as your orgasm approached. Before you could cum, Stunna pulled his fingers out. “Nooooo!” 

Stunna pushed his fingers into your mouth. You tasted yourself on his fingers. You moaned, slurping yourself up. Stunna groaned and rolled his hips. You made sure to use your tongue, licking up every last drop. 

“I decide when you cum,” Stunna said and licked your neck. You moaned and closed your eyes. There were too many sensations. It was making you spaz out, jerking and twitching on his lap. 

You nodded. “Yes, Sir,” you said around his fingers. 

Stunna pulled his fingers out of your mouth. He wiped it on his robe and then pushed you to stand. He stood up as well and took off his robe. He quickly folded it and put it on the ground. He sat down on the swinging bench and beckoned you to step closer. 

His dick was gloriously thick and long, all the way down to the tip. You moaned, staring at the bead of pre-cum leaking out. Stunna grabbed the base of his dick and moaned, stroking his dick. 

“Knees. Open,” he groaned.

You dropped to your knees, kneeling on his robe. A slight breeze caressed your skin but the sun was starting to warm up. Stunna’s beautiful, rich dark skin glowed with the sun. It casted pretty shadows on his face as he looked down at you. 

You opened your mouth, waiting for him to give you the go ahead to take him. Stunna bit his lip, furrowing his eyebrows as he stroked himself faster. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy when you listen,” he said. 

You nestled between his legs, watching with rapt attention as he stroked himself in a loose grip. You whimpered when it seemed like he was just going to make you watch. You looked at him and he smirked. 

“Your needy ass want this dick huh?” He asked.

“Yes, Sir, I want it,” you said.

“You gonna swallow me down like a good slut?” He asked. Your pussy clenched painfully hearing him call you that. You nodded and Stunna groaned.

“Good. Take this dick,” he said. He planted his feet to still the swinging bench. You placed your hands on his dick, taking over stroking for him. 

You inhaled the deeply masculine scent of him. You kissed the tip of his dick and Stunna put his arms around the back of the bench. He adjusted in his seat and then watched you open your mouth and take him in. 

“Fuuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back. You giggled and then started to bob your head. You relaxed your jaw, getting into a nice rhythm. Stunna groaned and you looked at him, watched as his face went through all kinds of emotions. Too many for you to name. 

“Deeper, take me deeper. I know you can do it,” he encouraged.

You leaned up higher on your knees and then did as he said, took him deeper in your mouth. You took him fast and deep, the only sound was the sound of your gawk gawk skills, Stunna’s moaning, and the birds overhead. 

“That’s a good slut. That’s a good fuckin’ slut. Taking me well. Ou, ou, just like that. Just like that,” Stunna said, gripping the sides of your face and pulling you down faster. You breathed through your nose as he face fucked you, taking over control and treating you like his own fleshlight. 

Your drool slid down the side of his dick, mixing with his precum. You moaned at the taste of him, swirling your tongue around his tip. 

Stunna jerked his hips and looked at you with that crooked smile of his. “You ready for this nut?” He asked.

“Yes, Sir,” you slobbered on him.

Stunna dropped his head to the back of the bench. He continued to face fuck you, his dick jumping in your mouth. He groaned and then moaned loudly, cumming down your throat. You swallowed him, milking him for all he was worth. You continued to suck as he came and he twitched, eyes rolling, as he moaned again. 

You released him when he tapped on your cheek. You grinned, licking your lips and finally working out the crick in your jaw. Taking him fucking hurt sometimes but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You couldn’t explain why it thrilled you so much to get your husband to cum in your mouth. You felt a personal satisfaction that it was you who did it. And that you were able to continue to do it. 

Stunna grinned and caressed your jaw. He pulled you into a kiss, tongue dueling with yours. He moaned, deepening the kiss. He pulled back roughly and dropped his forehead to yours. “Bedroom. Now,” he said.

You giggled and hopped up from the porch, running inside. You headed straight to the bedroom, hopping onto the bed. Stunna followed closely behind, dick bobbing. You bit your lip, watching it. You wanted him back inside you. You wanted to please him some more.

Stunna went to his side of the room, pulling the mysterious black bag out from beneath the bed. You laid on your side watching him. He unzipped the duffle, eyeing you while he rummaged around in it. 

You peeked over the edge, eyes growing wider as your brain stalled on what was inside. Different types of ropes and handcuffs. A belt. Dildos and vibrators. You lifted your eyes to him while he selected a silk rope. 

He gestured for you to offer your hands. You pouted at him but he stared you down. His chest rose and fell with his breaths and you whined as you lifted your hands. Stunna slipped the black silk rope over your wrists and tightened it, securing it to you. He tested the pull on it and asked if it hurt you.

You shook your head. You tested the rope, trying to get out of it yourself. You couldn’t. You smirked at him. 

“Can you get out?” He asked.

“Nope,” you said, popping the p. Stunna grinned and you had to sigh from seeing his beautiful, wide smile. He pulled the rope, pulling you into a standing position. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. 

“Sit,” he said. You sat back down on the bed. He pulled you to stand once more and you smirked at him, thighs slick with your essence. Your belly twisted with need. “Sit.”

You sat once more and looked to him for your next command. Stunna smiled. “Not being a brat today?” He asked.

You shrugged. “It’ll come when you least expect it,” you said. 

He chuckled and then lifted you higher onto the bed. Your legs dangled off the end of the bed, toes brushing against the ottoman. Stunna got in between, pushing your legs further apart. 

He grinned at you and then settled down onto his elbows. He lowered his face to your pussy, nudging his nose against your pussy, tickling the hairs there. You giggled and tried to close your legs. 

Stunna placed a kiss to your pussy lips and then looked up at you. “Hands above your head. If you move them, I’ll stop,” he said.

You kicked your foot against the ottoman. “You’re so mean!” You said. 

Stunna tilted his head at you. “When I least expect it huh?” He asked.

You giggled and shrugged your shoulders. “I’m a woman of many talents,” you said. 

Stunna shook his head. “Goofy ass. Hands up,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” you mocked, putting your hands above your head on the bed. Stunna lowered himself once more to your pussy, inhaling deeply and humming in pleasure. “Smell so good,” he said.

He opened his mouth and rolled out his tongue, using it to separate your pussy lips. You moaned, bringing your arm to your mouth and biting down as he found your clit. His mouth was hot on your clit and you moaned. He teased you, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. 

“Ouee, shit, ouee shit,” you moaned. 

“Let me hear you, baby,” he said.

You moaned louder, cursing to the high heavens, as he licked your pussy. He brought his fingers to your pussy and plunged his fingers inside.

“Oh god!” You moaned, wanting to lower your arms to hold onto him but you didn’t want him to stop. Far from it, your eyes were rolling behind your closed lids from the sheer pleasure of his tongue on you.

“Ohhh, ohhh, oueeeeee,” you wailed. 

He pumped his fingers and ate you with a vengeance. Like he was truly punishing you for something. Damned if you knew what it was. Perhaps it was your attitude. You took it a bit too far. You made a mental note to do it again. If it got him eating you out like this…fuck, how long had it been? 

When did you lose yourself to schedules and sex dates and a little stick deciding your mood? When did you turn into such a crone that saw sex as another chore? A stepping stone to the baby you wanted? 

You twitched, groaning. “Oh fuck, baby. What did I do?” You cried. Stunna curled his fingers, rubbing against your sweet spot and your cries turned sharp, loud, piercing. 

“Not a damn thing,” he said against your pussy, lips wet from your dripping essence. 

“Then why you doing this to meeeee?” You cried. 

“‘Cause I can,” he said. He returned to eating you out, proving that he was only playing with you earlier. Your thighs trembled with pleasure. Your breathing turned ragged and sharp, stuttering in your chest as you fought to moan at the same time. 

“Sir, please,” you moaned. 

Stunna slurped up your essence, fingers still pumping faster and faster. You couldn’t do anything but moan, incoherent words and sounds spilling from you. Stunna latched onto your pussy one last time and you came on his tongue, came with loud shrieks and groans. Your body flopped on the bed. Stunna held your legs open and continued to devour you while you came undone at the seams. 

He ate you until you came down, huffing and puffing with effort. Your body felt like jelly. Weightless. You stared up at Stunna in amazement while he climbed onto the bed. The bed dipped with his weight. 

He lifted you by the hips and flipped you over onto your stomach. You went with little resistance, letting him position you how he liked while he checked on you. “Feeling good, baby?” 

“I think I died. This is heaven, surely?” You asked.

Stunna chuckled. “No,” he said. He pulled the duffle bag over to him and pulled out a vibrator. He teased you with it on the lowest setting, rubbing around your sensitive clit. “Oof, baby, please,” you begged. It was too soon for you to come again. Your body jerked, trying to get away from how good it felt.

Stunna leaned down over you and kissed your cheek. “I decide when you cum,” he said and kissed you again. 

You moaned as he pushed the vibrator into your sopping wet pussy. He turned up the setting and you moaned, grinding into the bed as the vibrator got you horny all over again. You were still humping the bed when Stunna positioned you on your elbows and knees. Not easy to do with your hands cuffed together.

He smacked your ass and you shrieked, pussy clenching around the vibrator. “But baby!” 

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. Yo ass thought shit was sweet?” He asked. He smacked your ass again, lighting up the other cheek with dry fire that made your pussy throb. 

“Pleaaaase,” you moaned. Stunna delivered more smacks, spanking you. You moaned after each one, stretching your back so that he had more areas to hit. Your ass was on fire but the inferno in your lower belly was even worse. 

The vibrator pushed right against your spot and you started to shake, thighs quaking, lip quivering. You moaned, pussy dripping with your essence around the vibrator. Stunna grabbed it and started to fuck you with it.

“Oue, fuck, oue fuck. Please, don’t stop. Don’t stop,” you moaned and begged, fucking him back on the vibrator.

“That’s my good fuckin’ slut. Chase that shit how you need,” he cooed to you. 

“Need…you…” you moaned, trying to fight off your orgasm. 

“What was that?” Stunna asked. He continued to fuck you with the vibrator, your pussy making all kinds of loud squelching noises. Like your pussy didn’t want to let go of the vibrator, not completely. “Can’t hear you over the sound of this pussy gripping the fuck outta this vibrator. Guess you don’t need me after all, huh?” 

You shook your head. “Need you,” you moaned. “Need that fat dick in this pussy, now!” You begged. 

“Tell me what you need?” He asked. He ignored you and continued to fuck you with the vibrator, turning it up to the highest setting. You sniffled, tears making your eyes itch. You were close to cumming, so close it hurt, but you wanted to cum on his dick.

“Fill me up, please. Please, please,” you whispered. 

“I love it when you beg for this dick,” he said. He pulled out the vibrator and replaced it with his dick. 

You moaned and gripped the sheets when he entered you, sliding in easily. The vibrator helped you prepare for his size, prepare for the sheer fullness of him stretching your needy little hole. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You screamed. Stunna placed his hands on your hips and stroked. He rolled his hips and made you slam on his dick.

Your ass smacked against his thighs, igniting fresh waves of heat to travel from your ass, down your legs, and straight to your pussy. Stunna moaned, slamming your harder. Pressure built in your body, steam rising, until you were screaming like a tea kettle.

“Oh fuck!” Stunna moaned. You squeezed his dick as you came hard, furious, losing your voice with the force of it. He stroked a handful of times before joining you, filling you to the brim with his cum. 

Your body jerked one last time, twitching with his throbbing dick. He pumped it into you, body shaking as he pulled out. You shivered, crawling forward.

“Mhm, I’m not done,” Stunna said, out of breath and sweaty. He grabbed the vibrator from the bed and pushed it back in, trapping his cum inside. He fingered your clit and made you moan, made you clench and hopefully soak up his cum. 

You collapsed onto the bed and waved your arm. “Mercy, mercy,” you whispered.

Stunna chuckled and lowered the setting on the vibrator. He still kept it lodged inside you as he went to the bathroom and wetted a washcloth. He wiped down your sweaty, slick skin. He finally took out the vibrator and cleaned up the cum that slipped out of you. You watched it leak out with him and he kissed your temple. 

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he promised. 

He spent the rest of the weekend doing just that. Filling you up like an absolute twinkie. The last thing on your mind was having a baby. You just wanted him with you, on you, in you, and all around you. You couldn’t get enough of talking with him, laughing with him, looking into his eyes while you both came at the same time.

And then you ate and danced and spent the rest of the weekend in your own little bubble. It was beyond heaven. Beyond perfection. You wished you could freeze this weekend. Or play it on a loop. You fell in love with your husband all over again this past weekend. You had no words to thank him. To cherish him.

A week later, you stood with him in the bathroom waiting for the stupid ass timer to go off. Stunna held your hand and kissed the back of it. He locked eyes with you in the mirror. 

“Whatever it says, we’ll deal with it together,” he said.

You smiled and nodded, trying to put on a brave face for him. You didn’t know what you would do if it was negative again. You couldn’t face the disappointment in his eyes. The way he would try to be strong for you. 

Your phone dinged and you took a deep breath, grabbing the pregnancy stick and flipping it over.

“Let’s goooooo!!!!” Stunna screamed. 

The dark, clear plus sign didn’t seem real. Your hand shook as you turned to face Stunna. “We did it! We did it!” You screamed.

Stunna hugged you and lifted you off of the ground. “You did it baby. You did it, I love you. I love you,” he said and kissed your face.

You giggled from all of the kisses, hugging him back as fiercely. Stunna lowered you to the ground and then kissed your socks off. He even bent you back with the force of the kiss, the happiness bursting through him was like the first break of sun after a cloudy day.

“Thank you,” he said, straightening up. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you once more. Your lips danced, pouring in all of your frustrations, hurts, and regrets. All of it was washed away with the news. 

“Come on, beautiful, we need to celebrate!” He said. He yanked on your arm. 

You laughed, trying to keep up with his long strides to your bedroom. “How?” You asked.

“With more dick!” He yelled over his shoulder. You giggled all the way to your bedroom.

The end.

You know there's more! The Secret Big Stunna Files

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[diarioculto]

reader being a college student and she feels very drained and charles being the best boyfriend ever and making her days better? idk midterms are kicking my ass i need comfort 

YOUR WARM EMBRACE. ﹙ charles leclerc x reader ﹚

author’s notes: thank u sm for requesting this, anon !! i hope everything goes well for u and i’m veeery proud of you ♡ i hope u enjoy this x

۫.⭒ ۫ ׅ ⋆ﾟ⊹

midterms season was here, and were you happy about it? absolutely… not.

from all the stress building up on your muscles to the countless all-nighters dedicated to studying, you felt like your brain was going to explode. midterms were a significant part of your grade and you knew that you had to be well prepared for them, even if you felt relatively confident in your skills. this cycle repeated itself for more days than you could count right now and you felt your energy drain by the minute. you were reading your textbook for the millionth time, words mixed up inside you head, when you heard your bedroom door creak open. you look up to find your boyfriend charles, body rested against the door frame and a worried look on his face.

he hated seeing you like this, even if the soft smile on his lips said otherwise. his heart ached every time he looked at your face, eye bags darker than usual and your smile faded into a more tired expression, lips always pursed.

« chérie, don’t you think that it’s time for a little break? » his soft voice echoes through the room, eyes scanning over your face. he hoped that you would stop, even if it was just for a couple of minutes. you look back at you textbook, an indecisive look on your face, and in that moment, he knew that you weren’t going to stop unless you were forced to. you were always stubborn, especially when it came to college.

charles’ footsteps grew louder behind you and, next thing you know, your textbook is close shut with a loud thud and everything you read evaporated from your mind.

« c’mon. » his arms slid around your waist, lifting you up from your seat and you can feel your body slowly melting into his touch. you were so tired. so so tired.

« i’m sorry… » you mumble under your breath as your body is pulled against his chest. he tucks your head under his chin as he rocks you back and forth and you can hear his heart beating faster by the second, your grip around his torso growing stronger.

« for what, my love? » you lift your head to look up at him only to find his gaze already on you, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. you don’t answer, finding comfort in the silence around you. instead, you tuck your head comfortably against his chest once again with a satisfied smile on your face, eyes fluttering shut. charles’ lips curve into a sweet smile as he feels yourself relax under his body and he swears that he can hear your soft snores amongst all the silence.

« i love you, chérie. and i’m so proud of you. » he kisses the top of your head as he keeps lullabying you, sun setting behind your intertwined bodies.

[pretty-weird-ideas]

I really love, and by that I mean virulently hate, the way that “both Lestat and Armand suck” are used in a way in so that nobody can talk about how and why they suck. It is all just an inane diversion tactic to keep actual analysis of abuse and trauma out of the show/book series about abuse and trauma. Its also just a diversion so that people can harp on and nitpick the black victims of theirs. Like its appeasement so that you don't have to actually look the themes of domestic violence in the eye rather than exploring it.

“OKAY GAH FINE IWTV IS ABOUT DV! Anyways, here is 40 pages of analysis on dear god anything else” like I hope both sides of your pillow is warm if you post up on actual analysis of character dynamics with some “everyone is an immoral monster!”. Like idk fam, I think you are missing the point. In fact I would say the show actively tries to contradict that Louis’ view of vampiric nature as inherently a doomed codependent existence is one that is forced upon him rather than what he has to accept. The culmination of the finales was explicitly about him realizing that he shouldn't take this life for himself. Like its explicitly about Louis realizing that “it ends here”.

Like “she can dream” is such a powerful moment because after seeing his vampirism in the light of an inherently violent, soulless, hateful existence he is trying to see more.

To try and tie Louis back down into “all vampires are domestic abusers and that's just how it is so lets ignore it” is kinda like… almost contradictory to the point. But its also just disrespectful to everyone arcs in this narrative. Louis is desperately trying to break that mold and that cycle and find ANYTHING ELSE. When other worse vampires show up (Ses: Marius) the narrative goal isn't to turn Louis’ emotions into a funhouse mirror. Its to add nuance to why the characters might feel as if that inner darkness and violence is inescapable even though we as the audience know it is. We as outside observers know that the characters have full autonomy even when the characters lament that they feel as if they do not. That is the inherent horror of it all. They don't HAVE to do these things to each other at all, and yet they still DO.

Anyways I have a 9am lecture. I have to actually sleep.

[smallestapplin]

helloooo!! can i request idw rung x human fem reader?? just fluff, maybe rung is exhausted from all the sessions and clients, and the reader is just there for him. Kinda like instead of rung giving out therapy, he's receiving therapy lolll

And this makes rung kinda emotional because like i said, he's always the one giving out therapy, and no one ever really cared about him that way

idk if u write for idw though i hope u do😭 have a nice day!

-🍓 anon

Thank you for requesting this, I wanna smother him in love so badly.

No warnings!

-

-

-

Rung loves to help, the care he feels deeply for all on the ship is immeasurable, like a sire to their sparklings. He just wants to give them the tools to help themselves, to help them out of their depressions, to help manage their moods swings and out bursts.

To show them they aren't alone, and it's okay.

But some days take everything out of him, like learning something new in his clients past that just makes his spark break for them. Rung forgets himself, forgets that he too needs someone to lean on sometimes.

He didn't expect that support to come in the form of the human of the ship.

You knew he'd be back late and yet you still found your way to his habsuite, and stayed up waiting for him. You smile up at him, gentle and kind.

"Welcome back, you look tired, hon. C'mon, you need to lay down and relax."

He's not sure what made him break, your soft voice or your warm expression, but he could feel the fluid leaking down his face plate, fogging his goggles. He moved to you without a second thought, carefully picking you up and holding you close to his face plate as he lays down on his berth.

"I just want to help them."

His quaking voice breaks your heart.

"I know, Rung, I know. You have been doing so well. But you forget to take care of yourself, you can't help everyone if you're too tired." You try to wipe his tears, but there is just too much.

You nuzzle up close to him, offering some comfort to the large bot.

"You need someone to vent to, you need to take those stupidly long hot showers, read something new, you need time for yourself to recover."

When was the last time someone offered such support to him? Been there to let him cry and get it all out?

"You're a kind bot with so much love to give, but recovery isn't all work, you need to stop and just breathe in the moment, feel what you feel, and show it."

He lets out a watery chuckle.

"I know you're right, but I'm not pleased about it."

You playfully huff, "Well, now you just sound like Prowl being proven wrong."

Rung moves to lay on his side, curling around you in the process, keeping you close to him. He takes his fogged goggles off, setting them to the side, letting you see his pretty blue optics, but he looks so tired.

You place a hand on his cheek, rubbing soothing circles across his metal.

"You're a sweet bot, Rung, don't let these trying times ruin your compassion."

You nearly panic at how much he begins to sob, as if you broke the dam that had been cracking for so long, his cries were loud in your ears, but you never wavered in your comfort. You lay against him, kissing the digit of the servo that holds you.

he needs this, he's needed this for so long.

"It's okay, I'll stay by your side, always."

There isn't anything he wouldn't do for the crew, and there isn't a thing you wouldn't do for him. You let him cry as much as he needed until he grew exhausted, growing limp in the oncoming rest cycle.

He spoke up, his voice near a whisper.

"You'll stay here with me...right?"

You worm your way out of his servo and lay down next to his helm, his optics lazily following your every move.

"I'll be here when you wake up, you won't get rid of me that easily."

His smile, though tired, is just as sweet as always.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you."

You watch as his optics slide close, powering down to recharge. You will stay right here with him, right beside him no matter what, he's too kind to be left alone as is.

His berth isn't very comfortable for you, but you will ask for your bed to be moved here if he'd be okay with that.

Ah, you will worry about that in the morning, for now you just want to bask in his presence and enjoy this.

[cu7ie]

what do you think toman boys are like in relationships like loyal or nah

content: discussions of cheating, general relationship head canons and love language discussion towards the end.

I think Mikey doesn't cheat because he's lazy. The kinds of relationships he likes are ones of great emotional depth and the actual physical steps required to find someone suitable, hide it from you or eventually break it off is too much. Doesn't have the mental capacity for that level of espionage, the emotional strength to lie to someone's face like that. Toman Mikey does not have that dog in him, Draken has taught him too well. Bonten Mikey has no problem fucking other people however! Not a sad thought in his mind or tear in his eye, might even think about you while he's going at it and wonder if you'd notice the taste of someone else on his lips when he gets back to ya. Sanzu seems like a hopeless romantic with obsessive and possessive tendencies. I don't think he'd cheat but he also has high expectations and probably strict rules for a partner. Doesn't like overly friendly touches and certain attitudes.

Respectfully, I think Bonten Sanzu fucks other people and will laugh in your face about it. But his inclination to do it more rests solely on the idea of it bothering you; he likes making you upset and to some extent grows irritated with the idea he's so invested in you emotionally that a chunk of his pleasure is derived with tormenting you in such a way, but it's a vicious cycle... He finds a soft body to indulge in, but can't help but think of you while doing it.

Nahoya fucks man. I mean.. like I don't think he really pursues concrete relationships in the first place. He likes something ambiguous he can't put a name to, the fun of it is the attention, you know? It's the assurance of something he can come back to, because if nothing ever starts it can't end.

Souya is the complete opposite of his brother. Sometimes he can put in a lot of faith in little time, and he can turn up with the shit of the stick right - and it's the worst, because he can't help but be so genuine. He's just not a liar, doesn't have it in him really.

I think Draken is very loyal. I don't think he'd cheat like cheating on Emma with you or vice versa.

He's very reliable, he's sticking around just because he thinks it's the proper thing to do. Even if he was in love with someone else entirely, if he has an obligation to a partner he will honor that first and foremost.

I think that Baji is… questionable? It's not emotional cheating he'd participate in, I just feel like he's a simple-minded, high sex drive kinda guy. He'll feel... bad about hurting you so much, but also has trouble comprehending why it might hurt. He loves you, isn't that more important? If you don't care that he has sex with other people, y'all should be cool.

Kazutora is possessive above all. I think he considers you less and more about how he needs to keep you close to him more, and he really does like you, just works harder and not smarter.

I think takemitchy is very loyal.. but idk .... I feel like ....

He's only loyal to Hina because she's the only girl interested in him. I feel like if he had Catherine situation - like there was a girl trying to seduce him away from Hina, he'd eat some shit like that up. He's brainless. Not entirely a dick-thinker but he doesn't always use the right head you know???

Mitsuya and Chifuyu are pretty straight laced. Their dedication to people is obvious in canon relationships and I don't think much changes beyond that! I think they differ in their demonstrations of affection, however:

Mitsuya performs acts of service and is a huge gift giver, especially after he gets into design and fashion in his later years. Too often though, sometimes he can neglect a good old fashioned 'i love you' in favor of grandeur and extravagance. He hopes that in any case, you'll love the things he gives you - knowing he didn't get gifts a lot growing up, it's more important to him than you'd think.

Chifuyu is an opposite to him. He is very open with saying I love you to the point where he'll say it in front of other people and follow it up with a kiss (or six), and most regularly he can be overbearing with his PDA - forgoing gifts to emphasize spending time with you and physically being there for you.

[lookingforhappy]

Hi! I just wanted to say I really like your blog and the ideas you have for TUA. I have a question if you don't mind? If you've read the comics (I just got to read You Look Like Death and....my head hurt alot after) is there anything you wished they had kept from the comics for the show or vice versa? Personally I wish they had kept Luther and Five being twins in the show. I get why they chose not to do so but come on.

Five doesn't get his dog and then he also doesn't get his biological brother? I love the Pub scene from season 2 and it would have fit really well for them to learn it (just my opinion)

Thank you and I hope you have a lovely day! :)

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy my ideas!! I love asks lmao so no problem at all!

I have read the mainline comics and a few spin offs (the Diego & Vanya band AU one comes to mind??) but I'm a show main sadly. I like the comics as an informant to the show, so generally I prefer how the show depicted things.

I do want to briefly (edit: it was not brief... i am so sorry) talk about the Five DNA thing because that's one of the things I love in the show.

in the comics Five is genetically altered by the commission

this only works in the comics for me because every character is an asshole, Five especially (he literally prefaces this moment by bragging that he's fucked a lot of women). So for Five to have this excuse? to show horror at the very idea? that's a redeeming quality.

but in the show, they make every character likeable to an extent (recall that in the comics Allison rumours Luther into loving her), so this wouldn't have the same impact because it just makes Five less of his own person - removes the agency from his actions.

Five in the show is someone forced into a corner, and his actions in accepting and carrying out his job as an assassin, as well as his willingness to kill innocents and his own brother throughout s1 show how his experiences have made him desperate and ruthless in his pursuit of love and happiness.

it's a psychological exploration/study.

which to me, is infinitely more interesting. Five doesn't kill the board because his DNA dictates he will, he kills them because he chooses to. He is not cruel because his DNA dictates it, he is cruel because his experiences have made him that way.

and I think overall, this approach is adapted very nicely to fit the tone of the show, as all the same beats are hit. Five has been made into the Commission's killing machine against his will, and he is resentful of it,

but that doesn't mean he can undo the damage done, his psyche is forever attuned to this line of thinking no matter how much he hates it he doesn't know how to break the cycle of violence inflicted on him,

but because Five hasn't been genetically altered, he is fully responsible for his actions and he has to live with that.

the DNA altering in the show would feel like a cop out to me. and also the interesting aspect from the DNA altering is that he is essentially made into a psychopath (most famous serial killers are - Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer, etc.), which means removing his empathy.

because despite his dislike of the non-consenual genetic surgery, comics!five doesn't have empathy.

and show!Five is interesting because he has so much empathy, yet he remains a killer. he is never given the opportunity to use that for good.

without that empathy we wouldn't get scenes like this where he admits guilt,

and in all honesty, isn't it more interesting that the best and most prolific killer in the show possesses a large amount of empathy?

idk sorry I got sidetracked - I've seen a lot of people who say they prefer the DNA plot of the comics and I just feel like it's very contradictory to what a lot of people love about Five.

anyway, the only element of the DNA plotline that i'd want to see adapted further is the non-consenual surgery itself

largely because I love Five!whump and despite comics!Five claiming it was painless it's fairly obvious to see that it wasn't (and I love when this is expanded on in fics so much - no time, no time, dear brother o' mine is an amazing read because it deals with this)

but I also think it would do a good job at reinstating the commission as the villians they are rather than the weird, nebulous thing it currently sits as (Five would never entrust Herb or Dot to the Commission it's so ooc and it's canon??? Dot and Herb were both 100% in support of the commission's ethos, even if Herb was a bit shit at his job. Dot literally was in charge of the apocalypse and saw Five arrive & at no point thought that this was fucked actually).

plus, we already know they waited until Five was hopeless, alcoholic potentially passively suicidal, weak both physically and mentally, desperate. all likely to better control him.

what's to say they didn't also pick up him just in time to prevent his death? 45 years in a polluted wasteland can't be good on the body - and I don't about the general population, but most of the people I know in their 50s aren't fully grey. the stress was probably killing him all on its own.

they could have seen his death and gone back a few years/months/days to recruit him. but then that would mean they still have to fix whatever illness was killing him, and how do you do that? surgery.

perhaps that's how they recuit all of their agents. maybe that's how they get away with it not disturbing the timeline, take someone who was going to die anyway, and then force them into a debt of gratitude for saving their lives. idk.

I also think AJ was criminally underused. He's supposed to be the big bad of the commission, his character was originally adapted into the Handler but then they decided they wanted his design in the show or something.

I think his role in the comics is much more interesting, as a person who selected Five from a line up of assassins already in the commission and gave Five personal training, and assigned him to the JFK case,

I think he could have been adapted a lot better than he was, and like the surgery, he could have steered the commission back towards the villains they were always supposed to be - instead of The Handler (as amazing as Kate Walsh is to watch on screen I love her) we could have had AJ manipulating Five throughout s2.

as for Five & Luther, I don't mind them not being twins, because honestly their genetics are so different (Aidan is 20 something and he's probably going to stay at 5'5" while Tom is like 6'5", plus hair colour, skin tone, bone structure etc.) and we already know that they weren't planning on making them twins from the pilot script (Five is born a singleton to a polish teenager I believe).

I do think it would have been fun to repurpose this plotpoint for another pair. of the Umbrella's I actually think Five and Viktor pair quite well as they both have similar heights, hair colour, they both have that square jaw too. but I also think that this could have been an interesting way to give depth to the sparrows - Jayme and Alphonso could have been the twins.

Pennycrumb was... a let down? I don't think he should have been a big part of Five's character, but I also don't think he should have had 0 affect on it either.

otherwise??? honestly Hotel Oblivion was wayyy more interesting in the comics than in the show. I would have preferred something more in line with the comics but I think they were afraid of the classic horror elements and the classic superhero elements.

like the faceless bus boy guards

the hotel rooms, seemingly ordinary, being prison cells

the prisoners having enough freedom to move around the hotel and have relationships with each other but not enough to feel safe hanging around the hotel

i just.. i wish more of this had been incorporated into the show.

also.. art deco buildings.. my beloveds

this could have been the hotel Oblivion..

like ik they planned to go to japan to film s3 and that got fucked over by covid but like.. art deco is such a good aesthetic for a horror setting compared to the japanese style hotel we got (i've heard it called hotel orientalism as well so, theres that too).

if I had been in charge I would have had s3 focus on the mothers, develop their stories & why the umbrellas were given up for adoption & then linked this all to the 43 being the 16 instead. have the reveal be not that theyre dead but missing, non existant. because the children were taken by hargreeves to power Oblivion. if we somehow keep the kugelblitz then we use that as a distraction as to where and why all the sparrows keep going missing, and eventually the umbrella's numbers start to dwindle. until Oblivion is discovered and we find that every hotel room corresponds to a member of the 43 - maybe even have the brellies/sparrows numbers correspond to their door numbers somehow, or floor level.

idk I'm not a good writer but thats a bit of how i feel about the comics being adapted into the show..

sorry idk if i even answered your question? thank you again for the lovely ask!

[peterman-spideyparker]

Halo (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Howdy, folks! In my slow sift through and re-editing process of fics on my laptop and in my notebooks, I've re-come across this fic. It's probably been written for, what, a year and a half? Two years? and I've waffled on it because I didn't know if I should post it. It's a continuation of Angel, but if you've read it and want to stay sitting in the angst, you can. It's still angst, but, it might make you feel better? Idk. I cried writing it and then every time I've re-read it, and I think id I tried to write more, I'd be a vicious cycle of tears. Not my best editing, but. Enjoy!

Summary: Matt is grieving your loss hard even months after your death. It's like a non-stop film reel in his mind. He's wracked with despair, and ready to submit when his angel comes to his rescue.

Warnings: ANGST (dead dove, do not eat), talk of death, wounds (stab wound, gunshot wound, blood--canon typical violence), a lot of crying, hurt comfort?, Matt has a lot of self hatred in this from guilt

Other Characters: Father Lantom, Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 1,635

Everything is too loud and too quiet at once. It’s been like that for the last couple of months since you died. His surroundings have been simultaneously amplified and dampened. He doesn’t know how to function. He hasn’t been able to figure out what life means without you. He doesn't feel as if he's living anymore.

Matt can feel when Father Lantom sits down next to him. He's been coming to church more often, as if his desperate prayers will change the past and bring you back to him. He can feel every last bit of the polyblend fibers in Father Lantom's black clothes, but it just feels like static to him. An indistinct haze. But even for as hazy as it is, for as much sensation as it is, it just makes Matt feel more numb. He tunes out Father Lantom’s words, and only when he feels his hand on his back does Matt actually pay attention to what his priest is saying.

“I was playing pool with a man once—a unique fellow with an insightful mind,” the priest starts with a breath. “He imparted words to me that were so incredibly wise it made a priest speechless. It was a simple question: ‘What is grief, if not love preserving?' As I let that sink in, he continued. He said that all those feelings—the anger, the sadness, even the hollowness, everything that brings a person to tears—that is all the unspoken love that you still have for someone. It’s a good thing, Matthew. Love . . . Love isn’t something you switch on and off like a lamp. It’s shouldn’t be—if it is, it isn’t love.”

Matt sits in the pew, his heart heavy, hurting, and crumbling.

“I keep thinking I’m going to find her at home,” Matt finally sniffles, his voice trembling. “I keep hoping that this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up and we’ll be in bed and she’ll hold me the way she does after I have a bad dream. That she’ll make every bad thing I’m feeling go away.”

Father Lantom puts a careful hand in Matt’s back, and it’s enough to have him break down. 

“I miss her so much,” Matt weeps in the empty church. “I-I can’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“Matthew . . .”

“She died in my arms,” he sobs. “I couldn’t—I should’ve—I need her. I’m lost without her.”

Father Lantom knows there’s nothing more to say as Matt lets his grief take center stage, feeling the pain course over him in violent wave after violent wave rather than pushing it down. 

This is it, he thinks. This is where he dies, on some random rooftop.

And you know what? He couldn’t care less. Being a lawyer, fighting this fight, day and night, it’s pointless. How can he try helping others when he couldn’t help the person he cared about most? When she, dying in his arms, was comforting him? This is what he deserves—it’s better than what he deserves, he thinks. This is a relatively clean death—a little bullet hole in his flesh. You were all but sliced in two. He deserves to be torn to bits for what he let happen to you . . . He deserves so much worse. But, as he lays there, bleeding out, all he can thing about is how he never deserved you. How you would have been so much better off without him.

How you’d be alive had the two of you never met.

“Matty?” he hears a gentle voice say. “Matty, I’m gonna help you sit up.”

No . . . This isn’t happening. The voice, he knows it. He thought he’d never hear it again. 

(Y/N). 

“God, you’re heavy,” you grunt as you help him sit upright, a careful, warm hand over where he was shot as the other is firm on his back. 

“Wha—Huh?” he starts to groan, panic quickly starting to bubble. 

“Matt, calm down, it’s okay,” you urge. “I’m here, angel, don’t worry. You’re okay.”

He sputters your name in disbelief. “Is that really you?”

He feels how your fingers run through his hair and down to a loving grip on his forearm. 

“Hey, Matty.”

“Sweetheart, wha—?”

“Matt, I know it’s a lot. I know. But it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“H-How?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “How?”

He listens to you let out a sigh, how your brows furrow, trying to find the best answer to his question. “Divine intervention?”

“Y-You died, (Y/N).” He smells the salt of your tears in the air. “You died in my arms. Why didn’t you hold on?” 

“I tried,” you tell him. “I wanted to. You were so scared Matt. God, I—.” You sniffle and bite your lip, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I would give anything to forget the pain on your face, Matty. But then I wouldn’t have been able to see my favorite person.” You wipe the tears away from his cheeks. “Matty, I’m not gone. I’m with you always, you know that, right?”

“I couldn’t save you.”

“You saved the city and the world from a frightening reality. You’ve done it so many times, angel.”

“That doesn’t change what I failed to do.”

“Forever the Catholic—full of guilt.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “Matty, look at me. You are the best thing in the world that ever happened to me, you understand that? You made me feel so loved, so cherished, so safe, and so valued. I never felt more myself than being with you. Everything that you made me feel . . . Matt, that’s love. That’s what love is, what it does, and what it feels like. And I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer to have you realize that and feel the same.”

“I did, sweetheart, I felt it.” 

“Then you need to remember that feeling and let it guide you. I want you to be happy, Matt. I don’t want you to be sad forever. I can’t have that.”

“I miss you so much. I don’t think that’s ever going to stop.”

“It’s only a beautiful thing. It’s all the unexpressed love. We never get enough time with each other, Matt. But the best part of it is, Matt? We’re going to see each other again. It’s gonna be a while, but when we do?” Matt can taste the salt in your tears. “Be there as much as possible for one another, Matt. Okay? Don’t shut people out, don’t push them away because you want to protect them or because you don’t feel like you deserve happiness, because you will mourn that time you lost. Open up your heart again. It’s one of the most beautiful things you can share.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he cries as he holds onto you. “I don’t want to go back.”

“You know you don’t mean that.”

“I can’t . . . I miss waking up next to you. It keeps getting harder. It’s all crushing in on me.” He sniffles. “The apartment is loosing your smell.”

Tears roll down your cheeks at his distress. “Matt . . .”  you soothe. “I miss you more than I can say. There are absolutely no words in any language to tell you how much my heart hurts that I’m not physically with you every day.”

“Then let me stay. Don’t make me go back. Please let me stay here with you.”

“I can’t make that decision. If . . . Matty, I know you know that you’re not finished on Earth.”

“Angel . . .”

“Matty?” you say softly. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Tears stream down his face as he looks at you, his pupils locking onto yours for the first time. His hand carefully cups your cheek, afraid to touch you—like you’ll disappear. He gently touches your hair next, tucking it behind your ear before his thumb traces over your nose and cheek, finally brushing against your lips.

“(Y/N)?” he croaks.

“Hi, Matty.”

Holding your face in his hands, he leans in for the kiss of a lifetime, pouring every ounce of love he has into in.

“H-How . . .? I don't . . . You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” he sniffles as he moves to rest his forehead against mine. “God . . . You’re just . . . You’re here. You’re perfect.”

“Those are some super senses, huh?” you joke with a wet chuckle as you rest your foreheads on one another.

“I love you so much, (Y/N). I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

“Pull through for me, Matt,” you plea. “You’re not done yet, my angel. I know you’re not.”

“You’re gonna be with me, huh?”

“Forever and always, every step of the way. And hey—I better not see you again until it’s your time. Actually your time.”

“Promise,” he says with a soft smile, holding your face in his hands as he looks at you with tears in his eyes, desperately trying to memorize every last detail in your face.

“Love you, angel.”

“Love you more.”

He feels the burning, piercing pain in his ribs before anything else. Then, it’s the dried blood on his skin. Foggy’s muttering to himself in the kitchen about how he needs to find better friends that don’t dress up and prance around at night in ways that bring them two steps away from death.

When Matt’s eyes flutter open into a darkness he’s become accustomed to, tears begin to sting at his eyes as a fresh, strong whiff of your scent hits his nose in his apartment as if you’re walking by him like you’d done so many times before.

Forever and always.

While it hurts, Matt knows from that point on things will start to get a little easier. You're here with him, after all.

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[bigtreefest]

Which one of the CE babes do you think would be most likely to date a single mom?

(i think maybe jake bc of how much he loves kids but idk)

Hi, nonnie! I love this question. I tried so hard to only pick a few, but the further I went, the more I could see each babe dating a single mom🫣 so maybe it’s in descending order? Idk, lemme know what you think.

I think Jake definitely would. He’d be absolutely great with the kiddos. I can see him being more than willing to stick a couple car seats in the back of his vehicle, ready to take you and the twins to the park, or maybe a nice meal at the local diner. And then eventually, home to his ma to introduce his three new favorite people 🥺

Ofc Steeb loves kids. He wants to play baseball with your little slugger, maybe take him on runs when he’s older, teach him everything he knows and how to be a good man, no matter what era.

Ari also probably wouldn’t mind dating someone with a kid, either. He’s got one of his own that he gets every other week. He hopes your kids will get along well and be best friends. Well, he hopes they’ll stay friends, because their play date is how the two of you met in the first place. He wasn’t really looking for anything, but in meeting you, he couldn’t help himself, and he’s ready to go all in at love again, romantically and family-wise.

Andy knows at his age, it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t have a kid. Sure, you’re a little younger than him and your kid is younger than Jacob, but she took to Andy so quickly and he absolutely adores the thought of a growing family. In fact, he probably wants more kids with you at this point. A product of your love, and he’ll love every kid in that house equally.

Lloyd would be surprisingly good with kids if you’ve softened him up for it. He’s so locked in and drunk on you that you could have ten kids and he wouldn’t care. Heck, if you want ten kids, he’s ready to have fun making them. He tries to be so tough sometimes, but all he illicits from your daughter are shrieking giggles.

You weren’t sure how Curtis would react to you having a child. He seemed indifferent to a lot of things, so it was a surprise when his face lit up at the mention of her. He’s so wonderful with your kid. The first time he greeted her, he spun her around. They both shared a soft, shy smile, as big as you’d ever seen from each. He’s become her own personal jungle gym in the back yard every time he comes over.

Ran doesn’t want a kid. His childhood was too fucked up and he fears he can’t break the cycle. And that’s okay to have that fear. 🫣 but perhaps seeing your softness in parenting, how you show enough love for the both of you, maybe he can learn.