#stella space talks

[supernovaa-remnant]

thank you for your thoughts and reminding me of the fermi paradox! don't mind this long ask.. this is probably my top 5 fav things to discuss....

it is a bit sad to think that there are aliens out there totally within our comprehension and that we could communicate with, but we simply don't cross paths in time. like with the vastness of space and distance in lightyears and all that, maybe by the time a clear signal reaches our planet, it's millions of years in the future? it all depends on technology i suppose, which is cool to think about lifeforms similar to ours developing technology like us but with the physics and materials of different planets we've never seen before. and another cool thing, all the hypotheses about how aliens may be very much interacting with earth and are just deliberately making sure we don't detect them, how they have much broader intelligence than our standards, it reminds of something jerma said once that i'm obsessed with. he brought something up where he considered what if aliens were actually less intelligent than us. what if we came into contact with aliens that consider us to be their amazing and advanced counterparts? this was disputed with "well then how would they have space travel/communication to contact us in the first place" but what if we found them first? i don't know, again i could go on for hours about this hah

Jade!!! I also love talking about this thank you so much for sending this ask <3

It makes me so sad to think about aliens we could’ve communicated with except we’re just not around at the same time. I have often thought about what it would feel like to one day find remnant of a civilization on an exoplanet, only for no one to actually be around anymore. Or maybe one day aliens will stumble across the Golden Record, but we will all be gone, and that record is all they will know of us.

I think there’s a lot of possible answers to the fermi paradox. Maybe there are aliens, but they’re in a completely different cluster of galaxies. Maybe there are aliens in our own cluster, but maybe none of us have reached sufficient space travel yet. Maybe they just aren’t interacting with us for whatever reason. Maybe they’re scientists who are observing us, but they’re not interfering just like how scientists filming nature documentaries don’t interfere.

That idea of us finding them first though. I love that idea omg. It reminds me of something I learned in one of the astronomy classes I took at uni. If you think about it, the universe is actually pretty young. The most common stars in the universe are red dwarf stars, which are estimated to live for trillions of years. It made me think… what if at a later point in a red dwarf’s life, the perfect conditions of life exist? What if there’s a certain time and planets a certain distance from red dwarfs, and what if that has the ideal conditions for life to form?

In that case… maybe Earth is just early. Maybe they’re are other planets with life that formed in more difficult conditions, but maybe it’s less common. Maybe that’s why we haven’t run into anyone yet. Maybe all those galactic civilizations just aren’t around yet.

It’s interesting to think about. I’m not sure how much I truly think that’s the explanation (I think I’m just hesitant to accept things that make us special… it feels almost full of ourselves to think of us as early, but maybe that’s the case), but I like thinking about it!!

All that being said, I think life is probably very abundant in the universe. Maybe not space faring life, but I think there is life, even if just microbial.

To be honest, I think there’s a good chance that there’s life in our solar system (specifically on Europa). Everywhere on Earth where there is liquid water and heat/a heat source, there is life. Europe (most likely) has both those conditions. I could talk about Europa for ages, but I will cut off my rambles here lol.

[dreamerdrop]

holding garak responsible for his behaviour on empok nor is kinda ridiculous for a number of reasons, one of which is obviously the fantastical nature of specifically what happened there in the first place, but. i gotta say.

if someone was slowly induced into a state of psychosis, dosed with utterly absurd amounts of basically amphetamines against their will, and then placed into a situation that involved them being encouraged to murder at least two people in the name of self defense, if they went ahead and flipped out and tried to kill everyone else present at the time, well—

i think i would forgive a real world human for that too, honestly. i do not think that would be their fault. i would think that situation was fucked up and they (and everyone else) were gonna need therapy forever and ever but that was not their fuckin’ fault.

[kr-yoongi]

I would like more bisexual c0ps in television please <3

[eventiderookery]

i naively thought that Eido being prominent this season would mean i would be motivated to flesh out her relationship with Solas, but nope i got bodily grabbed by the idea of Kaarick finally learning that guardians killed her entire family/ketch and then going on a revenge plot with her brother about it. so needless to say i have a very different fic in the works than i had anticipated

[supernovaa-remnant]

Jade!!! Sorry to commandeer this post lol but I absolutely love your thoughts on aliens. Also, I completely agree. I think it’s entirely possible that there are life forms just beyond our comprehension and beyond how we define life and sentience.

(Also, your belief being based on whimsy more than anything else is such an amazing way to think of aliens, I think)

Not to enter the conversation with some of my own thoughts, but how many of the potential answers to the Fermi paradox have you heard? I ask because one that I think about often is just the age of civilization. If you think about it, humanity and human civilization has existed for such an incredibly short period of time compared to the universe. It’s entirely possible that sentient life and civilization (at least how we think of it) is incredibly short lived compared to the universe, and it’s possible we just keep missing each other :( which. absolutely heartbreaking idea imo, but possible.

Anyway, all this to say that I think it’s incredibly likely that sentient life as we consider it is out there, even more likely that life in general is out there. Combine that with your thoughts about life existing under a definition that we can’t comprehend, then I think it’s way more likely than not that life in some way or form exists out there.

three things I wanna know about you:

do you have a favorite greek myth?

what's your stance on the existence of aliens?

what are your thoughts on the minecraft end poem?

thank you for questions :3

favorite greek myth ooh i think anything related to prometheus, i'm not sure how to explain why i'm just drawn to that type of character

i could talk about aliens for hours!!!! the short answer is i do believe in extraterrestrial life!! the unnecessarily long answer is under the cut. lol

ah the end poem :'D it's beautiful and perfect to me, probably because minecraft is my favorite game. it's like a digital hug that will always be there for you. i feel the same about the c418 soundtrack

ok so aliens long answer. i've already made some posts about my interest in aliens outside of fiction, i think it's complicated in a way that makes me believe there has to be some kind of sentience beyond what we know already. when people try to find extraterrestrial signs of life they usually default to things we can comprehend, things related to our own earthly definition of sentience. this of course is all we can do because we can't chase something we can't comprehend, but i don't think we should discount it exactly.. certain theories that question our comprehension is like maybe aliens do already live among us or in our atmosphere and we just don't have the brain capacity or the technology to recognize them or how they impact our environment. ufos are already confirmed to be really common and there are countless conspiracies around the information governments across the world are gatekeeping. there's just too much to consider within "anything is possible," so i'd say my specific belief is lifeforms from earth are not the only entities that have cognition enough to impact their environment (so like, including plants and stuff! aliens could be what we would call plants). i think there must be other things in the galaxy that match this definition, within our comprehension or not. i'm no hardcore alien enthusiast beyond the discussion of them being really fun, so my belief is pretty much based on whimsy more than anything!!

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 

“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 

And here we go. 

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 

That’s when he sees her. 

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

How I would re-write Stella Goetia, Backstory + Season 1

Probably my most popular posts on this blog are about Stella from Helluva Boss. I like to talk about her because I think she had the potential to be a really nuanced character, and I really would’ve loved to see her and Stolas have a more complicated relationship.

So I’d like to talk about the direction I would’ve taken her characterization and story in.

I do need to stress that this is NOT a writing “fix-it” post. Canon Stella may be an evil bitch, but she’s MY evil bitch and I LOVE HER. I’ve already talked quite at length about how her character and conflict with Stolas being purely black and white is not a bad story decision, but to me is less interesting than having a grey or nuanced conflict.

I just want to go over a rough outline of what I would’ve done with her as a character. Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s better or is “fixing” the canon story. I also am not trying to make Stella inherently more sympathetic/likable/or “woobify” her—this is just a ROUGH outline of what I’d do to flesh Stella out as a person, and ideas I’ve had for her character that would make her (and her relationships with Stolas and Via) more appealing to me personally.

I just really wish Stella had gotten more depth, and wanted to talk about it.

(LONG) Rewrite Summary below!!!

While I think there’s also an interesting re-write where Stella and Stolas are not in an arranged marriage, and may explore this idea as well, this time around I am going to be sticking with the canon background that their marriage was arranged.

Instead of having Stella be an evil heartless spoiled child who strangles puppies, I would give her a very strict upbringing where from birth she was groomed to be the “perfect noblewoman and wife”—I would base her upbringing and the expectations placed on her on what was expected of Regency noblewomen.

Basically, Stella would be raised to be able to run the house/estate when Stolas was away, be accomplished in the “domestic arts” (hosting events such as parties and balls, being able to do embroidery and other hobbies “befitting” of her class, and being involved in charitable efforts). She would be taught to be quiet, graceful, courteous, and to always anticipate the needs of her husband.

Stella’s “true” personality as a young child would be boisterous, loud, and precocious. Stella loved playing outside, singing loudly, and dancing.

She would have gotten in trouble with her parents often due to this (“Dancing for fun is what the poor do, Darling. You should only dance to find a suitable husband”) and would be punished by her Father by his ordering the rest of the family and their staff to ignore Stella completely and act like she didn’t exist. This would usually result in Stella acting out even more to try and MAKE everyone pay attention to her, until she’d get too tired to continue and start acting “proper” (I.e. quiet, not speaking too loud or speaking out of turn, being obedient, etc.)

Her relationship with Andrealphus would have been strained, as he would have been the “golden child” while Stella would be the scapegoat. I’d also like to give Stella magic fire powers. Because honestly why does Andre get Ice Magic and Stolas get space magic and Stella is the same type of demon as them apparently and gets nothing??? Boring.

Maybe this is basic, but honestly I love characters with fire powers who have to learn to control them. As child, Stella would have difficulty controlling her fire abilities, and would be not be taught how to use or maintain her powers, but would be taught to suppress them.

As an aside—again, I’m not giving Stella a traumatic childhood to make her more likable and more pitiable. I have two reasons I’m giving her this backstory—1) I believe that even people with great parents still end up with some childhood trauma, because being alive and growing up *is* traumatic. And 2) I think that there’s a lot of pretty good evidence that ROYAL upbringings, and the expectations and restrictions that come with them, are especially traumatic in a very particular and very intense way.

Doesn’t mean that they’re not extremely privileged, but that privilege also doesn’t take away that trauma.

I think it’s very realistic for both Stella AND Stolas, as children of royalty and nobility, to have a lot of childhood trauma surrounding their upbringings, and that’s something I really want to explore in my rewrite—how they cope with their traumas and how it impacts their relationship and their ability to raise their daughter and navigate conflict.

By an older teen to young adult, she would have learned how to behave as a “perfect noblewoman”. This is when she would meet Stolas for the first time (with a a Chaperone of course).

There would be a little bit of time shortly before and after their marriage where they would have their “honeymoon” period—both Stella and Stolas were very infatuated with each other and mistook that infatuation for “true love”.

This time where they were extremely infatuated with each other would last about a year, after which they would slowly begin to realize that the idealized images they had of one another was false. They would start to argue more, have a harder time compromising etc. until they finally realized they fell out of love, and maybe were never in love in the first place.

Even though the two of them would have come to this realization, it would be separately, and due to their upbringings (where you don’t really talk about your feelings and push them down) they would NOT talk to each other about it.

This would be the first big crack in their relationship, and they would both have a lot of guilt over it.

I like the idea of the two of them really, really want to stay in love with each other, but after they get to TRULY know each other they just…never fully “click”. They realize they don’t have the same interests, they can’t really find anything to talk about, and they just. They don’t stay in love.

Stella would be very in denial about her true feelings after this turning point, and would still try to convince herself that she really loves Stolas. She would have a lot of deeply buried guilt over not loving him, and see it as a failure of her “duties” as his wife.

After this, they would find a way to keep their relationship would be cordial and respectful, but it would always tinged by an unspoken awkwardness. It would be almost business-like in nature, and they would start spending more and more time apart.

To cope with this lackluster relationship that they were both now stuck in, Stolas would throw himself fully into his duties (which I would want to show a little more of…seriously what does…what does he do??? What does he use the grimoire for????) and Stella would do the same—throwing herself into her duties as the lady of the house and a Goetia Princess.

Stella would host parties and balls, she’d make sure manor was always clean and orderly, she’d become a patron of the arts.

The basis of their relationship would become one of them sticking to the roles that were thrust upon them since birth.

Things WOULD change for the better though after Octavia’s birth.

Because for a while, Stolas and Stella would have something, someone, that brought them together, that they both loved and cared for dearly.

Something that Stella and Stolas would have spoken about before having Octavia is that they did NOT, under any circumstance, want to raise Via like they were raised.

As I already went over, both Stella and Stolas would have dealt with abuse and neglect growing up—Stolas’ abuse stems from his parents being LARGELY absent in his life and him being very neglected as a child, while Stella’s stems from her parents being extremely controlling and giving her very little, if any, freedom.

They would firmly agree on letting Via be her own person, on making time for her, on not putting too many expectations on her.

And, in this rewrite, I would not have them be abusive or neglectful parents. But I would have them be very flawed parents, whose own traumatic upbringings negatively affect their ability to raise Via.

I would want to explore Stella and Stolas fighting to break the cycle of abuse they went through, but still struggling because they don’t have a good frame of reference for what being a good parent looks like.

Stolas doesn’t realize that he’s not always giving Octavia all the time with him she needs, because in his eyes he’s spending tons of time with her—it doesn’t occur to him that he’s actually being neglectful towards her, because to him, spending any long amount of time with her is more than he ever got from his father. He’ll spend time with her, and talk to her, but not really LISTEN to what she’s saying she needs, and doesn’t understand why she doesn’t like the things she used to, or is mad at him for not taking more time for her.

Stella doesn’t realize she’s still being controlling or pushing her expectations onto Octavia by making passive aggressive comments suggesting she wear more “appropriate” or “feminine” clothing, or take up a “nicer” hobby like needlepoint and drop taxidermy. She gives Via the freedom to choose what she wants to do, but doesn’t fully SUPPORT those choices, and doesn’t understand why that’s so important, since in the end Octavia is still enjoying freedoms that Stella only dreamed of as a child.

Still, they manage to be a fairly functional and loving family towards Octavia. And Stolas and Stella maintain their cordial and business like relationship for Octavia’s sake, and to keep up appearances.

During Octavia’s teen years, when she’s 14-17, is when more cracks begin to show—Stella and Stolas have been keeping their relationship together, but it’s stagnating more and more. Stolas throws himself even more into his duties with the stars (or whatever) and Stella begins to become gradually more and more concerned and anxious about making sure her family maintains a “perfect” reputation among the other royals of hell.

Stella begins to throw more balls and parties for Hell’s charities (if this version of hell has banks, and police and prisons, they can have charitable organizations, okay.) As her and Stolas’s anniversary starts to get closer, she begins planning a HUGE ball for Hell’s nobility to celebrate. It’s hugely important to her.

While she’s doing all of this, Stolas is beginning to have an early-to-mid-life crisis. His work and duties that used to be engaging and fun are feeling more and more like a chore, his relationship with Stella has stagnated and is purely for show, he’s getting more and more anxious about Octavia approaching adulthood, and his whole life is beginning to feel more and more claustrophobic.

So. Stolas decides to do something wild, spontaneous, and very selfish, before he loses it. On a night where Stella is attending an Opera, and Via is spending the night with friends from school*, Stolas dresses in clothes he assumes “the common folk” would wear, and goes to shady bar in IMP city, with the goal of meeting someone to hook up with.

This is where Stolas meets Blitzø. (Sorry, I’m. I’m not doing the whole “paid childhood friends for one day” background.)

They have what both assume will be a one night stand at Blitzø’s place. It goes. MUCH better than either of them would have expected sex-wise. The two start meeting up more and more when they’re able to. Stolas begins to open up more to Blitzø, but it stays VERY sexual—eventually Stolas comes clean about who he is and they start to hook up at Stolas’ place whenever Stella is out. Stolas is very much infatuated with Blitzø (and the sex they have). Blitzø thinks they’re having non-complicated fun.

During AAALLL of this is when Blitzø learns about the Grimoire, and asks if he can “borrow” it for I.M.P. Stolas is impressed with Blitzø’s confidence and drive, and agrees to let Blitzø use it anytime, with the one exception being the night of the full moon. There is no full moon “deal” beyond the agreement that Blitzø cannot accept clients on the full moon because Stolas needs the book back that night.

During all of this is ALSO when Stella begins to notice Stolas acting differently, he’s slightly more energetic, he’s spending less and less time in his study and the manor in general, he doesn’t look her in the eyes when they do have time to chat briefly. It’s odd, and she’s suspicious of SOMETHING going on but she’s not sure what.

Stolas DOES feel guilty about cheating on Stella, but justifies it by telling himself that they’re not in a “true” marriage, and it’s “just sex”, so he’s not really cheating on Stella.

The night of Stella and Stolas’s anniversary ball arrives. To Stella, everything goes as expected, and it’s a huge success.

During the ball, though, we get the same scene we get in the Circus—Blitzø gets caught trying to sneak into Stolas’ room. Instead of the guards bringing him into the party, they call Stolas outside privately to deal with it (because why would the disrupt the party by dragging a party-crasher through the middle of a fancy ball?? I didn’t really understand why they did that in the og episode)

Stolas dismisses the guards, and we learn that Blitzø has been sneaking in (with Stolas’ permission+ knowledge) to get the grimoire after the full moon when he and Stolas don’t have time to meet up in person. Like tonight.

Instead of just handing off the grimoire like usual, Stolas and Blitzø end up hooking up (mutually and wholly consensually). Stolas does not return to the party.

Stella is really concerned about how Stolas’ absence looks, especially at a ball she planned with so many high profile demon lords present, but she’s able to wave it off as Stolas feeling a little tired and retiring early, due to it being the day after his full moon duties and all.

Instead of returning to their room, that night, Stella sleeps in one of the many guest rooms. She doesn’t know where Stolas is, but she’s mad at him for leaving early without saying anything on such an important night, and is hoping not coming to their bed will send a message—she’s tired anyway and doesn’t want to get in a big fight before bed that will tire her out more.

The next morning she has tea in the garden with some close friends. And this is where we get the infamous “Sorry, I fucked your husband!” scene.

After this, well. Stella kinda loses her shit. She had been pushing down all of her negative feelings and thoughts and frustrations surrounding her life and relationship for YEARS, because in her mind, as long as she was able to maintain the facade of having a “perfect” life, it would be worth it.

And now in a moment she’s lost the thing that, after her daughter, mattered to her the most.

She essentially explodes in fury in a way Stolas has never seen before—they get in a huge argument—Stella’s fire powers come out and burn down the manor’s garden, things just really get out of hand.

So. What would follow would be most of what we see of Stella in season 1 of HB—now that that floodgate has been opened, she finds she’s struggling to control her feelings, she’s mad and sad ALL THE TIME, and she’s deeply deeply hurt in a way she didn’t know she could be.

She can’t show her face in society, she doesn’t know WHAT to say to Octavia, she can’t believe Stolas could be SO SELFISH after EVERYTHING she had done to make sure their family was in high standing—and she can’t push down her feelings anymore. She’s never been so furious in her entire life.

And so she contacts a hitman, Striker.

I really like the old fan theory that Stella hired Striker in a moment of irrationality and anger because of how hurt she was—obviously her hurt does not justify trying to have her husband MURDERED, but I like the idea that she called the hit because she was deeply hurt and unable to cope with those feelings—not because she just hates him to the core of his being and has for their entire marriage. Her anger would be a coping mechanism, if she’s so busy feeling furious she doesn’t have to actually sit with her feelings of betrayal and sadness and hurt.

From here, the rest of season one would play out like in canon, we don’t see Stella in person again, just the apparition of her in Ozzie’s.

I’m going to stop here because this post is already way too long, it it’ll help me to think more if I split it up.

If you read this far please tell me what you think! I think I’d like overall for Stella and Stolas’ relationship to mirror Blitzø and Verosika’s, or maybe become a foil to it. From here we could honestly go either way—either Stella becomes a true villain, or she becomes an antagonist turned hesitant ally like Fizz, Ozzie, and Verosika.

I can see both being interesting, so maybe I’ll do a rewrite for both. We’ll see I guess.

*it weirds me the FUCK out that we don’t know anything about what Hell’s kids do, like I assume schools exist but ???anyway in this rewrite Stella and Stolas send Octavia to a fancy private school—cause the thought of her having NO friends or social circle makes me so sad)

[comatosebunny09]

warm-bodied | leon k.

genre(s): erotica, romance warning(s): female reader, soft dom leon, choking, clothed petting, mentions of bodily fluids, language, light dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, size kink, brief somnophilia, dry humping, stream of consciousness, lowercase, not proofread, written while under the influence now playing: some days - stella jang

he prefers you like this.

without the knit of your brows or the upturn of your lips. defenses buried beneath the gravel, your voice soft with sleep. no sharp quips, no biting comebacks. just your lids dancing and your mouth parting slightly with each exhale.

he likes it best when he can get away with stroking your cheek with the flat of his nails as you dream of pretty things. when he can root his nose into the curve of your shoulder and inhale.

you smell like earth and heady things, and you shift the slightest bit in his arms, nuzzling further into the safety of his body. cling to the fabric of his shirt like a grabby child, and the notion makes his lips—and dick—twitch.

the rain taps a steady rhythm on your makeshift shelter—a tarp he fashioned between two trees to shield you from the elements. 

you needed the rest, your bones shaky with fatigue. leon insisted after you reconvened following a split-up to gather intel. after you stumbled into his back when he took the lead to resume your search for the president’s daughter. wasn’t like you to be so out of sorts. so naturally, being the good partner leon was, he herded you to safety—or some semblance of it.

you allowed him to hold you beneath the veil of night. to ward off the insistent chill because you were soaked to the bone, your clothes sticking to you like a second skin. and he was warm and so very big, and…

well, he was just helping out his partner, right? definitely not swelling with something feral at the sight of your body wrapped snug in his coat and you burrowing into his armpit like a scared little bunny.

besides, it isn’t often he has you like this. in the clench of his arms, his fingers meandering along the skin of your neck. dragging further downward towards the divot between your collarbones, grazing over your breasts. further still, on an unhurried excursion to your nipples pebbling beneath your shirt. from the cold or his touch, he isn’t sure. but the sight of them makes him bite his lip as he chokes on a groan.

you stir when you feel him. clear the phlegm from your throat, your lids still heavy with sleep.

“leon,” you warn, voice rivaled by the patter of the rain overhead.

“i know.” humor hangs in the depths of his voice, interweaved with something sensual. something disarming. “just tryna help keep you warm, is all.”

snort. “we don’t have time for the nonsense.” 

leon scoffs. feigns hurt, his ministrations never faltering. sure, danger looms between each crackle of a tree branch. between every hoot of an owl in the distance, every whisper of wind, but—

a well-placed nipple pinch invokes a bitten-off growl from your throat. and he smiles at that, sighing hot and open-mouthed against the space behind your ear.

“we’ll make time, sweetheart.”

a promise clings to the air like the oaky aroma of petrichor, and he doesn’t miss how your thighs clench at the rumble of his voice. how you arch the slightest bit, pushing your breasts into the calluses of his hands, still feigning sleepiness. give him the go-ahead to touch you more, and he’s every bit of smug now as he kneads, plucks, and flicks his fingernails over your pretty, pretty nipples.

and, oh, how he wants to taste them; roll them over the bumps and grooves of his tongue, between his teeth. but given the angle and the timing, he’ll have to settle for this.

“gonna take care of you,” he huffs into the delicate hairs at the nape of your neck. hands dip a little further down, coasting over the ripples of your rib cage, massaging the meat of your belly, melding to your hipbones. “promise.”

you shudder, growing a little boneless, legs instinctively parting. and leon heeds the invitation, his nails raking up and down the inner sanctum of your thighs, all honey slow and teasing. and he intentionally nudges your meaty outer labia with the knuckles of his thumbs, and they’re swelling and fat in your pants, pulsating with each touch. he coos alongside you, infatuated by the beautiful noises he invokes upon touching you there.

you shiver again, a cute whimper easing past your lips. the sound shoots straight to his cock, painfully hard.

“want me here?” he croons. you nod all too quickly, earning a chuckle from him.

leon needs no further goading, taking to massaging your pussy through your pants with a cupped palm and artful fingers. revels in those breathy little sounds leaving your mouth and how your head falls back against his shoulder. and he’s there, mouthing over your carotid, sinking his teeth into whatever flesh he can reach.

his name drifts from your lips in a gentle cadence—in a dulcet supplication that makes his head spin, and he unconsciously grinds in tandem with the steady undulation of your hips. mind filled only with you you you. with getting you off. with tasting the briny tang of your cum. with being buried deep in the searing clench of your pussy, and the notion makes him nip at your shoulder to mask the pathetic little whimper burbling in his throat.

“right there?” he dotes at a particular buck of your hips, and your thigh craters beneath his fingers as he squeezes to anchor you down, keeping your legs spread so he can play at the seam of your pussy. “keep ‘em open for me, baby. yeah, just like that. gooood girl.”

he’s breathless now, sweat beading on his temple, because watching your resolve wither away has him leaking pre-spend and rutting into the cleft of your ass like a beast in heat. you burn hot as he shackles your neck with his hand, unraveling you little by little, your cunt so very wet and warm and weeping into his palm. and his hold on your throat tightens until he feels your pulse beat violently against the lines of his palm and your breath hitches.

“oh fuck, leon! so—so close! i’m gonna…i’m gonna—”

“yeah? gonna cum, baby? want you to. so bad. fuck. please.”

like a frayed bowstring stretched taut beyond its limits, you snap. topple as quickly as leon built you up, your slick saturating his fingers through the thickness of your cargo pants. and fuck fuck fuck, it’s embarrassing how quickly he cums after, drawn to his peak by the erratic stutter of your hips and that sinful tongue of yours curling around his name. he soaks his pants like an overzealous teen, fighting against his labored breaths and the urge to push you onto your back to fuck his cum into you.

but as the dust settles and the rainfall filters back in through the static of his mind, you look at him with a lazy smile. with a quirk to your brow, your gaze all-knowing and swimming with exhaustion.

“well, that’s one way to keep a girl warm.”

to which leon snorts, tugging you back into his arms, lips pursed and tender on the crown of your head.

masterlist

[ceaselessims]

I see your point, but I don't think it's a matter of Octavia "taking Stella's side." I think she is aware of her parents situation and understands why they hate each other.

That doesn't make it hurt any less. That probably makes the abandonment feel worse. As far as we know, from her perspective right now, neither of her parents are paying any attention to her. We don't actually know what her relationship with Stella is like. There could be some serious manipulation there coming from Stella and Andrealphus, or also straight up neglect and ignorance.

Octavia is not 7, but being 17 is still an incredibly young age, especially for self image and self identity and realizing that you and your parents are separate, whole people with flaws. She's not a baby but she still very much is a child (a child who will probably face an attempt on her life as well if Andrealphus was putting that on the table with his discussion with Stella), and a RICH, privileged child at that.

Coming into this thinking there could be some kind of deliberate, malicious act of ignorance on Octavia's part if she gets angry with Stolas (and imo probably the entire divorce situation as a whole but we only get this one line for now) and has a break down about how she feels having been emotionally neglected by him as "taking an abuser's side" is, to me, completely missing the point. Octavia is a child who is probably going to see her dad chose to leave his family and get really fucking upset about it because he HAS been emotionally neglecting her for several months now, and maybe for longer judging by their relationship in Loo Loo Land and her genuine fear and doubts that he loves her.

Also this is a fictional show where Octavia is not a fully realized character (yet) and the scene will probably act as a catalyst for Stolas to get a wake up call for how his actions have been affecting the people around him. Because as much as i love my Owl dad, he really has a perspective problem and the people around him are finally calling him out on his bullshit. Octavia is the one person i think where he can't make up some internal excuse to ignore his how his actions have affected her.

I acknowledge the pain of actual irl DV victims, especially when children are involved. I want to make it clear that my original post was more so about Octavia's relationship with Stolas and how strained it has become between them because of their own interpersonal relationship and how Stolas has not been attentive to her, and how Octavia (a plot device) will internalize that. This is not me comparing this fictional relationship to anyone else's situation but my own personal one with my mom, because i see a lot of 17 year old me in Octavia.

octavia and stolas's future conversation is probably going to kill me

i think Octavia is such an interesting character because she reminds me so much of my younger self. I think her line in the trailer is probably going to be a scene that resonates with me to an uncomfortable degree because of my relationship with my mom.

My parents never fight, but i know the teenage pain of feeling like your parents don't make time to truly understand you as a person and only love you out of obligation, whether that's true or not. The feeling that your parent only tolerates you to gain something or because they "have to" is invasive.

I saw someone say that her line needs more work in the story to feel "earned" but i think it's perfectly reasonable for Octavia to feel that way. She can acknowledge that her dad is doing his best AND still feel like she is an afterthought to him. Learning that your parents have flaws SUCKS and sometimes that feels like they never cared about you.

I'm sure there will be a lot of build up and i'm thinking that maybe the build up will be stolas agreeing to banishment or something in order to be with blitz, and Octavia will read this as a complete abandonment of her, bc honestly what else is she supposed to think?

In the episodes that she has been central to, Stolas has been explicit and partial to Blitz IN FRONT OF HER. He does not hide his affair with Blitz, which makes Octavia visibly uncomfortable in all of the Loo Loo Land scenes. Not to mention that in Seeing Stars, it's not lost on her that Loona is the one to find her while her dad is (again) with Blitz after he forgot a date that was important (from her pov) to their relationship. She forgives him in the moment for that episode, but it could be another factor.

We, the audience, know that Stolas would do anything for Octavia, that he genuinely loves and cherishes her, but Octavia does not know that. Octavia left with Stella on the weekends even before the divorce was officially in motion, and i wouldn't be surprised if later in the season we find out that Octavia has been living with Stella since/or soon after Seeing Stars (since Stolas had an assassination attempt.)

From her perspective he has been distant with her, openly hostile to her mother, and openly having affair with Blitz (there can maybe be a little bit of classism in there from the fact that she might find stolas's affair with blitz is especially scandalous bc blitz is an imp/lower class as well but that's a whole other thing.) If you were a child who was already feeling insecure and emotionally neglected, if it came out that your dad was going to chose to run away with his affair partner, that would probably fucking SUCK !! it would fucking KILL ... and Octavia will probably think that she is the problem, that she is not worth staying for.

All this to say, Octavia, my girl, i will probably cry when you cuss your dad out in front of the entire goetia court :-)

[redroomreflections]

Moments of Reflection

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A Family of Her Own Series

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 3.3k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: R has a talk with Melina. Natasha has to leave again.

Folding clothes shouldn’t be this soothing. Sorting them into their tiny baskets takes time. You hadn’t realized how gender-assigned you’d made the clothes, but the pinks and blues for the kids stand in contrast, a soft reminder of how much life has changed. The brand-new washer and dryer Natasha sent months ago shouldn’t be this exciting, but here you are, finding comfort in the hum of the machine and the rhythmic folding of small socks and onesies.

The warmth of the laundry room, with its clean scent of detergent, is a small escape—a moment of calm in the chaos. You lose yourself in the motion, piece by piece, letting the repetition lull your thoughts away from the noise of the house. For just a little while, it’s quiet. No responsibilities beyond sorting clothes and making neat piles.

The door creaks open, and you glance up, half-expecting Natasha or even Stella. But it’s Melina, Natasha’s mother, lingering in the doorway. Her presence is quiet, but it’s still a disruption to the small space you’ve carved out for yourself. You force a smile, hoping she doesn’t stay long. You just need a little more time alone.

“I hope I’m not interrupting." Melina says with a tentative smile.

You shake your head, your hands still moving automatically as you fold a tiny pair of pants. “No, it’s fine." It would be rude to dismiss the first guests you’ve had in months.

She steps inside, her eyes sweeping over the laundry, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I wanted to thank you.”

You pause, mid-fold, blinking at her in surprise. “For what?"

Melina watches you for a moment, then glances at the clothes in your hands—the tiny, everyday items that somehow make up the world you’ve built here with Natasha.

"For loving my daughter."

The words hit you harder than you expect. You set the pants down, focusing on the soft fabric beneath your fingers to steady yourself. It’s rare that anyone acknowledges the quiet work you put in to hold everything together—the small sacrifices, the late nights, the constant worry.

You look up at her, searching her face for more, unsure what to say. Melina steps forward, folding her arms, her voice soft but steady.

“I know Natasha doesn’t talk about these things, but I see it. I see what you’ve done for her, for your family.“

Your throat tightens at her words. You try to keep your emotions in check, but it’s hard, especially after the weeks you’ve had.

You manage a small smile, though your voice is quieter than you intend. “I love her. I always will."

Melina nods, her eyes soft with understanding. There’s a pause, thick with unspoken things, before she speaks again.

“What is your secret?” Melina begins and your head snaps up. “To getting her to love you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, glancing at the pile of unfolded clothes, unsure how to respond. Melina waits, watching you carefully.

Your thoughts turn back to the years you spent trying to reach Natasha, to get her to let you in. Not that you were any easier to deal with. Being SHIELD used to mean something. It took a lot to prove yourself to those around you. It took a lot to let someone in.

Melina steps closer, tilting her head. "She would never admit it, but Natasha is different. She has always been different."

"That's what made her such a good spy." You muse. “There’s no secret.”

She hums, thoughtful."I know it will take time for her to forgive me,” Melina says.

“You’re here, right,” You interrupt and Melina tilts her head. There’s a question at the tip of her tongue. “There are only four, maybe five, people that know about this place. That know about us. Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton and Laura Barton. Five if you include Nick Fury who knows everything. Now you and your family.”

Her lips twitch and she nods.

"She loves you."

Melina's expression softens, and she reaches out to feel the fabric of Nick’s onesie. "I wish things could be different,” She seems lost in a memory.

You watch her. Your chest feels heavy. There are so many things that you could have done differently, too.

"We can't change the past. Only learn from it."

Melina sighs, looking at the piles of baby clothes.

“She’s a good mother,” You say. “A great one. When life allows her to be one.”

Melina smiles at you, and you realize how much older she is, the lines around her eyes and lips a soft testament to a long and complicated life. You wonder how old she really is.

“I never doubted it,” Melina sighs. “Not that she had a lot to learn from. I was…”

“You did what you could with what you had,” You offer.

She gives you a grateful look.

"Thank you," She repeats, and you're not sure what to do with that.

You smile. You've never been good at taking compliments, especially from someone like Melina.

“I now have three daughters.” Melina gesture to you.

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. You can only blink at her, not sure what to make of it.

Melina turns away, moving to the doorway. She pauses, her hand resting on the frame.

“She wants to be here,” She says knowingly. “She wants to be home with you and your children.”

There's a part of you that wants to argue, but the rest of you can't bring yourself to deny it. Not when she's looking at you with such sincerity.

You nod, and Melina leaves you with a gentle smile.

****

You didn’t want this time to come. Saying goodbye is always hard. Your love walking out of the door will always break you into a million tiny pieces.

This life you have here with Natasha is golden. You could only wish she’d be here to see it all. It’s the middle of the night. They leave soon. Their hushed plans and low whispers will be no more. You will be alone again. You will be the one to wipe Stella’s tears. You will be the one to hold Nicky.

As you turn the knob off in the shower, your head begins to spin. The water is still hot. You step out, almost jumping when you see Natasha standing before you.

She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is damp and pulled into a ponytail, her clothes wrinkled and damp with sweat. She must have just come from training with Melina and Alexei.

“I thought I’d join you,” She says with an unsure smirk.

“I’m already done,” You shake your head. You don’t mean to be short with her.

You push past her, wrapping a towel around yourself. She doesn’t move.

It feels like an eternity since she’s seen you this intimately. You can feel her eyes on you as you slip a tank top over your head, the cotton clinging to your damp skin.

You turn back to her, and she takes a step forward, reaching out and pulling the elastic from her hair. Her red locks tumble free, cascading around her shoulders.

You swallow, feeling the tension rising in the air.

“I’m going to check on the kids,” You swallow. “I um, I left some hot water for you.”

Natasha nods, but you don't wait for her response. You slip past her, padding quietly through the hallway.

When you step into the nursery, Nicky is asleep. He lies on his stomach, lips puckered, with a serene look on his face. You’d pushed his crib back into his room with the help of Natasha’s dad. Not that you needed it. But the sight of the big man cradling the baby was adorable.

Stella is asleep in her bed. It took a lot of convincing this time to get her to sleep. She doesn't want her Mama to leave. You can't blame her.

You sigh, your eyes moving to the window. It's a full moon tonight, the stars bright and shining in the clear sky. You sit with Stella a little longer before retreating to your bedroom.

You slide under the covers, closing your eyes, while listening to the constant noise of the shower. It's soothing.

After a while, the water shuts off. You hear the rustling of clothes, the bathroom door opening and closing, and the click of the light. You don't open your eyes.

“I don’t want to leave like this,” Natasha interrupts your peace.

You look at her, her eyes sad, her expression tired.

She sits down on the edge of the bed. Her hands are folded in her lap.

She looks like she wants to say something.

“Nat…” You trail off. You don’t know what to say.

Natasha sighs. She glances up, her eyes locking onto yours.

"I'm sorry.” She says, her voice soft. She climbs into the bed to sit beside you. She presses herself up against your body. “I’m sorry.”

"I don't want you to go," Your voice cracks. "But you have to."

Natasha lets out a ragged breath.

"I wish things could be different," she whispers, her voice wavering.

“They can be,” You urge. "Please. Come back to us. Come back to me. To the kids."

Natasha's brow creases, and she swallows thickly. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“I want that more than anything,” She replies.

"Then stay."

"I can't."

You shake your head, fighting the ache in your throat. "I can't lose you."

"You won't."

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

Natasha shifts closer. She reaches out and strokes your hair. You lean into the touch.

"I love you," She murmurs.

You look up at her, a weak smile playing on your lips. “I love you too.”

You sit in silence for a while. Her hands trail across your shoulders, down your back, tracing patterns on your skin.

It feels good.

She moves her hand to the nape of your neck, tugging gently. You lean in and meet her halfway. Your lips press together, soft and sweet.

The kiss is slow and tender, and Natasha pulls back.

"I've missed you," She murmurs, her lips brushing yours.

"I've missed you, too."

You pull her in, your hands sliding under her shirt. Her skin is warm and smooth, and her muscles ripple beneath your touch. She moans softly, her body arching toward yours.

“Tell me you want this,” Natasha breathes.

You nod, letting out a shaky breath.

Natasha leans in, kissing you hungrily. You whimper as her teeth graze your lower lip, and her tongue slips inside. She runs her hands along your thighs, pushing the tank top further up your body. You’re grateful for the dim lighting surrounding you. She can’t see the remaining baby weight or the stretch marks. You’re not so vain but the insecurities are still there.

Natasha pulls back, her eyes flicking up to yours. Her pupils are dilated, her lips parted slightly. She looks beautiful.

She kisses you again, her hands cupping your breasts, squeezing lightly.

“Do you usually sleep without panties or was this for me all along?” She whispers into your ear.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out across your skin.

"Both," You manage, and she grins.

She pushes you back against the pillows and settles between your legs, her mouth moving down your neck, kissing and nipping.

Her fingers brush over your nipples, pinching and tugging lightly. You squirm beneath her, trying not to make a sound.

She kisses her way down your chest, trailing her lips across the curve of your breasts. She pauses, her tongue swirling around your nipple, and then she sucks gently.

You gasp, arching into her mouth. Her other hand moves to your other breast, massaging and squeezing.

Your hands slide into her hair, tugging lightly, and she moans against your skin.

She pulls back, looking up at you.

"I love the way you taste," She purrs.

"I love the way you taste." You echo.

She smirks, sliding a hand down between your legs.

You bite back a moan as her fingers tease your entrance. She presses two digits inside you, pumping slowly, curling them up towards her.

You grip the sheets tightly, struggling to keep quiet.

"God, you're so wet," She breathes. "So ready for me."

You moan, rolling your hips into her touch. You close your eyes as you allow yourself to feel.

Her thumb brushes over your clit, sending sparks through your body.

"Natasha," You gasp, clutching the sheets tighter.

"So sexy,” She groans as you widen your legs for her.

She leans forward and licks up the length of your pussy, making you whimper.

She swirls her tongue around your clit, teasing and stroking, and you moan louder than you mean to.

"That's right, baby," She growls. "Let me hear you."

You writhe beneath her, grinding against her face, desperate for more.

She pushes her fingers deeper, pumping faster, her tongue flickering over your clit.

“I want you up here,” You beg.

She places one last kiss on your clit, lovingly, before she rises to look into your eyes. She never stops pumping her fingers.

"Tell me what you want." She demands, her voice low and husky.

"I want you," You whisper. She kisses you again, swallowing your moans as they come. She curls her fingers, angling them in the way she knows makes you crazy.

"I want to see you," You whimper. "All of you."

Natasha smirks, slowing her pace.

"I'm all yours, babe."

She leans down, her lips ghosting over yours, her fingers still buried deep within you.

"I love you," She murmurs, kissing you again.

"I love you," You echo, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

You tug at it, and she lets go, allowing you to pull it off.

Your hands roam over her skin, admiring her toned body. You kiss her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. You want to memorize every inch of her.

You tug on her shorts, and she shimmies out of them. She tosses them to the side.

"Fuck, I want you," She growls, pressing her lips against yours.

"Then take me," You reply, running your hands along her back. What happens after is a blur. You’re too blinded by the sheer pleasure coursing through you as she thrust harder.

You cling to her, gasping and panting, as you reach your peak.

"Yes!" She moans, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

"Yes!" You echo, feeling yourself fall apart.

Your orgasm hits you hard, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You don’t anticipate the tears that follow but when you feel her kissing them away you know this was way more emotional than intended. All you needed was your wife. All you wanted was her.

You lie tangled in each other, her breath hot against your neck. You close your eyes, letting the warmth wash over you.

You stay like this for a while, savoring the closeness.

“I will come home,” Natasha promises. She nuzzles into you.

You nod, trying not to think about tomorrow.

"We can do this."

"We can do this." She nods.

“Do you need it?” You ask.

She nods.

It doesn't take long for you to attach the strap to your body. Her body reacts the way it always does. She arches into your touch as you slide it inside her.

You thrust gently, easing her open, watching her expression. She gasps, gripping the sheets.

“I love you,” You whisper to her. You know the both of you should be a bit more mindful of your guests across the hall.But this feels so fucking good.

She moans, biting her lip.

"I love you," She whimpers. "Don't stop."

You roll your hips, driving into her harder. You grip her hips, ramming yourself into her at a brutal pace, as she wheezes below you.

She's so beautiful, her body quivering, her cheeks flushed, her eyes screwed shut.

"God, baby," She groans.

"So tight," You moan. "Shit." You groan as you thrust.

She cries out, her fingers digging into your arms.

"Fuck," She gasps. "More."

You pick up the pace, pounding into her, grunting with the effort. She’s needed this release. This time with you. She doesn’t want you to be soft with her.

She whimpers, her back arching, her head thrown back.

"Yes," She moans.

"Cum for me," You demand as you rub her clit. "Now."

She trembles, her body convulsing.

"Fuck, Y/N," She moans.

Her legs lock around you, her toes curling.

"Good girl," You praise, slowing your movements.

She whines, her chest heaving.

"Y/N," She whispers.

You lean down and kiss her gently.

"I love you," You murmur.

She sighs contentedly, her eyes drifting closed.

“I know you’re tired,” You say. “We both are. But we will get through it. For better or for worse, right.”

"Forever," She agrees, her voice soft.

She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You rest your head against her shoulder, letting her hold you.

"We're going to be okay."

"Yeah, we will."

You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped in her arms.

She strokes your back.

"You're amazing," She whispers. "And beautiful."

You snuggle closer, basking in the warmth of her embrace.

You drift off to the sound of her heartbeat.

****

In the morning it’s time to say goodbye. She’s standing in the middle of the living room, settling Stella with her Barbies. Stella’s demeanor is more relaxed but cautious . She knows what’s about to happen. Nicky is sitting on the floor beside her, his stuffed lamb tucked under his arm.

He doesn't seem to notice his m his mother. He's far too focused on the toy in his hands.

“I will be back,” Natasha promises. “I love you and your brother so much.”

Stella nods.

You swallow, holding back tears.

“Don’t miss my birthday,” Stella says.

Natasha blinks.

"I won't," She assures her. "I'll be there, baby girl."

"Okay," Stella nods.

Natasha smiles, kneeling down and kissing Stella's forehead. She leans over to do the same to Nicky.

"Love you," She murmurs. She knows to make the goodbyes quick. She’s already hugged and kissed you. She’s almost to the door when Stella drops her dolls and races over to her.

“Mama,” Stella whispers.

Natasha turns around.

"Yes, moya malen'kaya vorobey?"

Stella wraps her arms around her, hugging her tightly.

"Don’t go,” She says, her voice cracking.

Natasha's eyes well up with tears, and she pulls Stella close.

"I have to," She says softly. "But I'll come back.”

“No,” Stella demands.

Natasha looks up at you, a sad smile playing on her lips.

You sigh, wiping away the tears that stream down your cheeks.

"It's okay," You reassure her. You reach down to grab Stella, managing to keep a grip on her, even as she fights you to get to Natasha.

"We'll be here," You promise.

Natasha takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping.

"Okay," She whispers.

You hold onto Stella as her cries turn into screams for her Mama. Your baby shouldn’t have to feel this hurt. Natasha walks steadily out of the door and across the grass to the helicopters. She tries to ignore the crying.

Stella watches her mother leave, her heart breaking.

You watch her walk away.

When the doors to the helicopter shut, Stella goes limp.

“I want Mama,” She whimpers, her voice now hoarse.

“I know, baby. I want her too,” You cry.

You rock her until her breathing slows. Until her cries die down and she drifts off to sleep.

You stand there for a few moments, watching as the helicopter disappears over the horizon.

And then, you turn and head back inside.

You lay Stella on the couch and cover her with a blanket.

You take a seat on the floor beside her.

You watch her sleep, her tiny hands fisted, her face wet with tears. Nicky crawls into your lap, seemingly upset by all the commotion.

"It's okay," You tell him, stroking his hair.

It will all be okay. She promised.

next part

[supernovaa-remnant]

Re: my last post, I'm talking about Europa anyway <33

It's just so so cool. It's one of the few currently geologically active worlds in our solar system (I'm using world to count planets, satellites, and asteroids btw), with the others being Earth, Venus, Io, Titan, and Enceladus. They're all also incredibly interesting worlds, so feel free to ask about them.

But, Europa. Unlike Earth, Europa isn't powered via radiactive decay, but, rather, via the tidal forces from Jupiter and from being in resonance with Io (which is the most geologically active world in our solar system, btw).

So, Europa has a density of ~ 3 grams per centimeter cubed. Which means it's actually mostly rock. However, in the outer solar system past the snow line, water ice is the most common building block, so Europa's surface is entirely water ice. All of the rock is at Europa's core. All of the terrestrial worlds in the outer solar system (with the exception of Io), not only have water ice, but also have liquid water. However, this liquid water is far far beneath the surface, instead creating a sub-surface ocean.

So, why is Europa special? Europa's liquid water ocean is actually pretty close to the surface.

Here's a picture of Europa. (Also, please note that pretty much all pictures you'll see of other planets have have had the contrast increased)

Do you see those big lines of fractures along the surface? Those are because of the tidal forces from Jupiter. Basically, what happens is that the actual shape of Europa is being changed as it orbits Jupiter (and this is seen far more with Io, but it still affects Europa). So at certain points in its orbit, it's more oval than spherical and vice versa. (The same thing happens with the Earth's oceans as the moon orbits us, but the affects it has on the satellites in the outer world is a bit different due to a) having other satellites in resonance, and, b) the difference in size and mass between Jupiter and its satellites).

So, as Europa is orbiting Jupiter, these fractures are sometimes pulled apart. When that happens, the liquid water ocean underneath becomes exposed to the vacuum of space (because Europa doesn't have an atmosphere), so very very quickly a new layer of ice is formed. When the fractures close again at different points of Europa's orbit, that ice is pushed up and creates kinda ice-berg like mounds I'd say?

Anyway, it's one of the reasons we know Europa's ocean is pretty close to the surface.

But!! But. The most exciting thing is the fact that, due to the tidal forces from Jupiter, there's heat/energy sources in the ocean. Why is this important?

Because every single place on Earth where there is liquid water and a heat/energy source, there is life. Because this means that Europa is the most likely extra-terrestrial place in our solar system to have life.

And astrobiologists love Europa because of this.

[connoisseursdecomfort]

Character Developments and Parallels in Chapter 103 (1): Twilight and his performance

[Manga Spoilers alert]

As everybody knows, Ch.103 is the real 100th chapter since Ch.3 is the first chapter in which the Forgers became a family. There are a lot of callbacks between these two chapters. What do the callbacks tell us about character developments? What has changed?

Ch.3 shows us how Twilight really operates as a spy - he observes as Twilight and performs as Loid. He is both the spectator and the spectacle. Being a good spy, for Twilight, means the two roles align perfectly with each other.

While it is true that the three constantly acted as an audience in ch.3 (in an opera house, an art museum, or a political rally), what Twilight really wants to show off is their identifications of being a part of these audiences. The audience is then also the performer. Being an audience in Ch.3 is a preparation for being a performer in Ch.4.

In Ch.3, the major conflict is that he is a spy, a cool liar and a good actor, while Yor and Anya are not. When Loid gets anxious about the family's performance, Yor decides to take Loid and Anya to the park.

They retreat to a place where they could take a step back, shed their roles as performers and observe the crowd as spectators. She shows Twilight the place which "reminds her to get back to work" for the sake of the people while staying away from the crowd, She reminds him what his work is really about.

This happens again in Ch.103.

But the thing is, ch.103 is not really about work. Rather, Yor reminds Twilight of something opposite of work. She reminds him that it's totally fine to let go and not think about work.

As opposed to ch.3, which is about work.

Ch.3 is set in crowded places. Twilight doesn't want to stand out but he needs the crowds. As a spy, he needs the affirmation from others that his pretend family is convincing. He gets what he wants in chapter 3 by getting the affirmation he needs from a random person he saves.

The fact is throughout the whole story he has been stressing the importance of playing a convincing part in front of the others (ch.29, 47, 67).

Before Ch.75, we see a clear pattern in Twilight's performance as Loid, namely "for the mission", an excuse that allows Twilight to align his two roles (spy vs father/husband) with each other. Ch.75 is a watershed. There is a crowd, and for the first time, Twilight refuses to perform for the crowd. Or us. He refuses to give us his thoughts about his observations. Instead, he starts to offer excuses to his colleagues. He did it again in ch.86.

And after that, again, in ch.87, we see a tired and wounded Twilight hiding in his bedroom, refusing to perform for us. The fact is, he no longer even uses the "for the mission" as an excuse for himself. He no longer talks to us, the readers, hiding the answers even from his thoughts. He starts to find his own faults in his performances - Loid should act according to Twilight's will, but what if Twilight's wrong?

Ch.94 is interesting in a way that for the first time, it's not about aligning the two roles, Twilight and Loid. He's still "performing" as Loid but he's not thinking about the mission at all. He's not trying to be a spy.

What makes ch.103 very special is the absence of the crowds. Becky appeared for a moment and left quickly. Endo deliberately created a private sphere in a public space. There was no audience to perform to, so there was no need to perform. There seemed to be a mission - to find and observe Belle, but they were not actively looking for Belle. They were not trying to get Stella starts out of Belle. Different from what he did in ch.94, he's not using any of his skillset. He listened to Yor, sat and waited.

He no longer feels the need to perform in front of Yor. Echoing ch.86 in which Yor tells him he doesn't need to "be so perfect", as a response to Yor's suggestion about Belle, he just tells her about his "fault/weakness": "Waiting idly isn't what I'm great at either."

If his self-reflection in ch.14 and 35 could be interpreted as his attempt to fix something, he really didn't need to share this piece of info in ch.103 at all. He is a very private person. He doesn't talk about himself, not even to Franky. But it seems that he likes talking to Yor. He opens up to her.

He knows he doesn't need to perform in front of Yor, and that allows Twilight to make an attempt to relax.

The massive walls of texts (the ones while he thinks) disappeared as he tried "to not think for a while, to not worry for a while, to just relax and let go". Endo chose to draw a space that is empty of crowds and buildings. For a moment, it was just the four of them enjoying themselves.

For a moment, he's not Twilight [as a spy] or Loid [as a husband/father]. He's just [redacted].

He relaxed. And for the first time, he didn't faint (or die). This is the biggest character development of Twilight, really.

And therefore, this is the perfect 100th chapter.

[doodler16]

tbh vassago is a character i fucking hate on principle alone because what do you MEAN you got the same guy who played a genuinely badass fat nerd glasses wearing gay vampire hunter to voice a gay goetia.. WHO DOESNT EVEN LOOK LIKE A GOETIA BECAUSE HES NOT!?!?? they just snatched his design from the pilot when they showed off all the overlords during vaggies exposition dump and went, "well, here's a bird that looks kind of cool! lets just slap him in here!" the lack of effort pisses me of so bad! because there's no reason for him to be modern day, or a pirate, or be a parrot, or whatever. i get that there's barely any lore on vassago compared to stolas or asmodeus, but it's like they did the bare minimum to make a character and knew fans would eat that shit up, and they certainly have been.

and that's not even mentioning how you can tell they blew the budget to give him a good amount of speaking parts that just. consist of him being stolas's cheerleader. for NO reason. not even a passing, "we used to talk at stellas parties," or, "we met at the richest cup cafe," or anything. are you fucking kidding me. did you need that many lines of him hispanically hyping up bird frollo THAT bad that you just forgot to give him a reason to even like stolas to begin with

he was a useless character who did nothing for the episode, didn't even try to contact stolas like his nervous finger tap foreshadowed, and the money could've been used to allow via and stella and on screen moment of them talking to each other for the first time in the series.. near the end of s2, the almost exact MIDWAY point of this shows story. like yeah it wouldn't have have passed the bechdel test! because stool ass! but it would've been something! considering were supposed to give a shit about stolas's family so we can feel extra bad for him when he suffers the consequences of his own actions. anyway i hope 47 ice cream trucks falling from the sky land directly where vassago standing, killing him instantly

😂 Yeah, Vassago is literally from the Hazbin Hotel pilot. He went from potentially being in one bloated demon show to another bloated demon show. Vassago is such a waste of space in terms of screen time, plot wise, and budget.

I was trying to understand the appeal of Vassago because I remember this episode aired my online discord friend fangirled over him when all Vassago did was be Stolas’ bootlicker and argue with Andrealphus about Stolas. Like we get it Vassago, you’re a Stolas fanboy. The only reason I know he is pirate related is because of that dumb X and dots on his official art.

[dreamerdrop]

currently filling my queue with garashir just so you all know i am going to be insufferable and i am going to ride this high all through the new year.

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 1

Pairing: 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. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. Use of n-word. Mentions of God, Christian leaning. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: On a girl's trip with your friends to Punta Cana, getting some much needed rest before spring semester, you bump into Stunna and a whirlwind romance rocks you to your core.

Word Count: 9,326k

Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @melaninpov. I'm sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, I've been watching romance movies all day and this turned sweet unexpectedly. Happy Valentine's Day, my loves. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia

“Are you sure this isn’t too short?” You asked your friends. You stood in the bathroom of your hotel suite. The bright, fluorescent lighting in the bathroom highlighted everything. Everything. You wore a simple gold dress with intricate bronze and burnished orange swirls. It was a tad too short and showed a tad too much.

You weren’t a prude but you were also unused to showing…so much. You tugged at the short sleeves, the low neckline, and pinched the areas around your sides. You weren’t sure why you packed the damn thing, but you were drinking while packing. Something you vowed to never do again.

“You look so hot!” Your friend, Stella, said and moved closer to you and faced the mirror. She wore a violet dress with sparkling beads woven in to make it look like she wore a dress made of stars. It fit her deep ebony skin perfectly and brought out the subtle jewel tones in her skin.

You bit your lip, tasting the sweet lipgloss you dabbed on your lips. Abusing your lips was your worst sin and you avoided putting anything on them but tonight, you were all about new experiences. Hopefully. 

“I should change,” you said. You pushed past Stella’s calls out for you to stop and that there was no need. 

Angela appeared in the doorway and trapped you in the bathroom. “Damn girl!” You said. Stella’s sister was gorgeous in a marigold bodycon dress that hugged all of her curves and showed off her perfectly round ass. Truly, an apple bottom that she claimed was her best feature. 

Angela preened under the praise but did not lower her hands from the door frame. “You’re not changing. None of us are changing. We only have two days left before it’s back to fucking school and we’re going out with a bang. They better be throwing us out before the trip is over,” she said. 

She pushed you back into the bathroom. Thank goodness the space was big enough for all three of you. There were wide tile squares on the floor, a discarded hotel towel on the floor to keep you all from slipping, and two large mirrors over a double sink. 

Angela and Stella finished up their makeup and demanded that you applied more gloss. Stella handed you a clutch to match your dress and told you to take the gloss with you. 

You accepted it with a roll of your eyes. You’d likely go through the entire tube before the night was over. You were constantly at battle with your anxiety. Ya’ll really didn’t fuck with each other but it was like a toxic ex that didn’t know how to leave you alone. You could block, skip, and hop away from it but it was always lurking around the corner.

“Alright! Let’s go!” Stella yelled, getting you two pumped for the night’s activities. You all put on your matching heels or sandals, grabbed purses and clutches, and tucked in last minute items you may need, and headed out of the door.

Punta Cana was a balmy destination spot with plenty of resorts. The trip there had been uneventful but you and your friends had stayed glued to the windows, snapping pictures of the local plantlife, hills, and palm trees. 

At the resort, you couldn’t help looking around in wide-eyed wonder, taking in the people and accommodations. You had been here for a few days enjoying the beach and accompanying swimming pool at the resort. 

Everyone was friendly and open and a staff member was always around waiting to answer your questions. The goal of the trip was rest, rest, and more fucking rest. You were approaching your final year of school. After this spring semester, you were officially a senior and would have to enter the dreaded world of adults.

Stella and Angela kept up a steady stream of chatter on the ride down the elevator about what they were most excited for. The adults only resort was a breath of fresh air. No kids running around and no harried parents running after them. 

Tonight, you were going to the club in the resort. So far, your activities have kept you from that venue. You rode ATVs and did a snorkeling tour off the shore of the beach. You also climbed into a boat to watch the local marine life. That part was your favorite.

Angela had to remind you that you were in fact young and it was okay to enjoy yourself. Half the time, you didn’t know where your anxiety came from. You could be having the time of your life and then boom! Your anxiety was snatching your breath away and warning you of an invisible threat. No matter how many times you asked for proof or begged to know what the threat was, your anxiety only shook its head and repeated the warning tone: danger, danger!

You shoved your anxiety in the recesses of your mind. You were not in danger. There was no threat. You were only here to have a good time. 

On the main floor of the resort, the wide open arches and large windows let in enough of the view that you saw the moon ascending the sky. Sunset was losing its grip on this part of the world. Swirling colors of lilac, tangerine, and amber dotted the sky as night approached. The ambient lighting outside began to turn on one by one.

Stella looped her arms through yours and Angela’s arms and pulled you toward the entrance to the club. The music reached you first. Hotel guests were spilling in and out of the place so it must be a popular spot. 

You swallowed around the huge lump in your throat as you pushed inside, flashing your wristbands that confirmed your age and the amenities you paid for. The staff member waved you in with a polite smile and soon you were entrenched in the booming club.

The space itself was huge with plenty of dancefloor area. The upbeat, fast paced music got everybody dancing and shaking their hips. There were pillars stationed around the room holding up the ceiling but other than that, it was pretty much open. There was a bar area on a raised platform filled with tables and chairs. 

Most were all occupied as people looked over the railing at the brave people down below getting it on in various states of fancy clothing. Dresses flew through the space. Heels clacked on the floor. Hands were in the air in an undulating wave like the waters that crashed on the shore. 

There was a heavy smell of liquor and sweat and some type of sweet perfume in the air that tried to combat it. There was no way to combat the funk so it ended up smelling like sweet sweat. But that was to be expected with so many people in one room shaking what the Lord gave them. 

You and your friends made a beeline to the bar, immediately ordering sugary drinks that would go straight to your head. Alcohol was never a proper solution to anxiety. However, you’d take anything for a release from its shackles for the night. 

As you waited for your drink, you bounced your shoulders trying to get your body to catch up to your mind. “Naw, show us what you got, girl!” Stella said. She whistled and encouraged you to dance a little more, shake a little more.

Fuck it. You couldn’t let your anxiety win this time around. You started getting into it, shaking your booty faster and then backing away from the bar. You felt the rhythm of the song, waving your hands and getting your whole body into it.

You backed up one more step and tripped, your body flying to the right. You shrieked, hands reaching out to catch your fall. However, you didn’t fall. Strong arms encircled you. It took a few moments for your mind to catch up to the fact that you weren’t kissing the nasty club floor. 

Your heart roared in your chest, causing stops and starts that made you shake all over. The strong arms pulled you back to standing, righting yourself on your wedges. “Thank you,” you said.

You looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. Those eyes were framed by a long face, wide nose, and a trimmed dark beard. He had a big smile with perfect, symmetrical teeth encased in hollow grills.

The man had rich, deep golden brown skin that he showed off with a collared navy shirt and black jeans. His upper arms were bulging with muscles, straining against the short sleeves of his shirt. 

He was in a word: devastating. 

“Are you okay?” Sound finally filtered past your racing heartbeat. The way he looked at you gave you the indication that he had asked it more than once. You bit your lip and nodded. You forgot how words worked. 

“Are you sure you didn’t twist anything?” He asked. His voice felt like what hot chocolate on a cold evening tasted like. It warmed you up from the inside out, awakening places that didn’t usually awaken for anything other than your favorite celebrity and brownies.

Your mind was slow, fuzzy around the edges, as it dawned on you that he was pointing to your feet. You moved each leg, leaning on him while you lifted your legs and moved them in a tiny circle. 

You looked back into his eyes and nodded again. “Good,” you chirped. 

He smiled slowly. Fuck, you could watch him smile for the rest of your days and never get sick of it. He was so damn cute. And hot. A dangerous combination that had you acting like Helen Keller. ‘Cept you could plainly see how divinely sexy he was. 

“Can I buy you a drink to apologize for ruining your dance?” He asked.

You smiled and ducked your head, cheeks warming up from the embarrassment of dancing in front of him. You looked down at his hands secured around your arms, at your hands on his. 

You started to move them but he held on a little tighter, unwilling to let you go. “I…kind of already ordered one,” you said around the thick lump in your throat. Come on! Get it together! What the hell was wrong with you? 

“Oh, are you here with someone?” He asked. He still didn’t let you go. 

You licked your lips, the sweet taste of manufactured strawberries coating your tongue and snapping some sense back into you. You nodded and looked towards your friends. They were openly gawking at you. 

“My friends,” you finally said. 

“But no guy?” He asked. 

You giggled and shook your head. “No girl?” You asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “I’m Stunna,” he said. 

You told him your name. He said a few times, rolling the syllables around his tongue like one did to a lollipop. You focused on his mouth and the way he said your name. As if he had been saying it his whole life and never wanted to stop. 

“If I can’t buy you a drink, can I get your number? You from the States?” He asked. 

Anxiety reared its huge, ugly, monstrous head. You were nervous to just…abandon your friends. Let alone your drink. With your luck, you lived on complete opposite sides of the country. You nodded, to give him an answer about the States. But were too nervous to tell him where. To even hint at the possibility that you could occupy the same city and there wasn’t a national alert about it. 

You were sure that he caused a storm of women wherever he went. You would have noticed if he lived around the Bay. You knew that you’d feel him in your blood, taste him in your veins if you lived in the same area. Certain that you would have bumped into each other already. Seen each other somewhere. 

“I should probably get back to my friends. I’m sure your friends are missing you as well,” you said. You reluctantly withdrew your hold on him. Your small claim for the time being. Relinquishing that hold hurt. 

He nodded. As you turned to leave, he swiftly caught your hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed your fingers. “Save a dance for me? I wanna see more of them moves.” 

A nervous giggle pushed against your rib cage, threatening to spill over. You swallowed it back down and bit your lip. You didn’t want to keep turning him down but your stomach twisted and turned. Danger! Threat! 

There was nothing threatening about the man so you figured that you needed away. You needed space to breathe and think. Time spent away from his spicy cologne that tickled your nose. 

You nodded once more. What were the odds that he’d find you again in this club? If your friends weren’t at the bar, you wouldn’t know the first place to look for them. 

Stunna let go of your hand and backed away, giving you a small wink before turning back to his friends. He was surrounded by a group of guys, all hot in some way or another? Damn. You checked out his back side as you walked back to your friends. 

“The hell you doing back here?” Stella asked.

“What’s happening? Why aren’t you sitting in that man’s lap?” Angela asked. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed your drink, the glass sweating from sitting so long. How long had you been talking to Stunna? And why did you feel like you wanted to run right back into his arms?

You took deep gulps of the fruity concoction, letting the alcohol seep through your system and chase away your anxiety. The cold from the drink burned away the lump in your throat. Being away from him helped. It helped in a way that was foreign to you to name or identify. 

People didn’t have physical reactions to others right? Like that was a thing made up by romance movies to get people’s heads in the clouds and sell more candy in stores, right? 

Your friends hounded you for answers to their questions, wondering what you spoke about and why you weren’t still talking to him.

“I didn’t want to abandon you for some guy. This is a girl’s trip. A relaxing trip,” you said.

“You better relax on that man’s dick! Like you saw him right? Like you saw the way he looked at you? Girl, please tell me she’s not that oblivious,” Stella said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder.

Angela tossed her hands up as if she were preaching to a congregation. “Father God, grant your child the gift of sight because she’s clearly blind,” Angela said. 

You laughed, rubbing your forehead at their embarrassing shenanigans. “I’m not oblivious!” 

“I pray that I’ll never do some dumb shit like her, Lord. Smite her and send the nigga my way, because damn,” Stella said. She looked behind you and you panicked, standing in her way to not bring attention to the fact that you were discussing Stunna. You risked a glance over your shoulder.

Stunna was sitting down at a table, faced in your direction. He lifted his glass to you and you smiled, turning around and immediately dropping it. The drink wasn’t helping. Butterflies flapped tiny wings in your stomach. He was killing you. 

“What happened to new experiences?” Angela asked.

“Not that damn new,” you muttered, sipping more of your drink. At this rate, you’d need ten drinks to calm the wings in your stomach. 

Stella groaned dramatically, throwing her arms across your shoulders. “As sweet as it is to worry about us, you see us every damn day. How often do you run across someone that damn fine in real life? In real life? He belongs in a magazine or on TV or some shit,” she said. 

That was the fucking truth. “He probably lives on the East Coast or something,” you said, waving Stella off of you. You were too hot. There were too many people here. Too many clusters of hot breath, sweat, and body heat raising the temperature in the room to dangerous levels. 

You sipped more of your drink. You tapped your foot against the hard floor, vibrating with energy that had nowhere to go. Nothing to do but zip up and down your body and twist your insides. 

“So? You ain’t trynna marry the nigga. Just get down,” Angela said and bent low, shaking her hips. Stella joined her, sticking their tongues out. Stella turned around and bounced her booty against Angela. Angela mimed hitting Stella’s ass and you laughed, waving them away.

“You two are a hot fucking mess!” You screamed. They continued to dance and giggle, shaking their ass and proceeding to make you wish the floor swallowed you whole. 

“Since our girl is romantically deficient, let’s get on the floor,” Stella said. You finished your drink and followed your friends to the dance floor. 

You started out stiff, not wanting to bump up against anyone. You didn’t need a repeat from earlier. Your friends noticed your reluctance and each took one of your hands. They began to swing you around. 

You smiled, falling for their obvious charm. You loosened up and relaxed. The drink finally did the trick and you surrendered to the music. You closed your eyes and felt the thumping beats, the instruments, and sultry crooning of the singer. 

You danced and laughed with your friends, relishing the feeling of being young and carefree. This was what you had been chasing this entire trip. This feeling of being present and in the moment. 

You began to twerk as the music changed, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Your friends cheered you on. You placed your hands on your knees and got lower. Someone sidled up behind you, not one of your friends you were sure. 

You shrugged your shoulders and kept dancing. Now was the time to keep living in the moment. You could dance with someone that wasn’t in your immediate comfort circle. You couldn’t always hang onto your friends like a barnacle. 

Large hands circled your waist and you leaned back into a lean but strong frame. The stranger felt like a man and a good dancer on top of it. Able to match your changing moves. The stranger grabbed your hands and spun you around to face him.

Stunna grinned at the surprise on your face. “I thought I told you to save me a dance,” he yelled to be heard over the music. 

“What took you so long?” You asked. 

“Like that?” He asked, exaggerating his words. You nodded. He matched your nod and then spun you back around. You giggled, breathless at being spun around like a doll. He pulled you around the dancefloor dancing to the fast-paced music with ease. Now it was you that was having trouble keeping up with him.

You faced him now and your hands were in each other’s, dancing with complicated turns and twirling limbs that made you feel like you were on Dancing With the Stars. The song finished and you waved your heads. “I need a break!” 

Stunna grinned, flashing those damn grills. You stared at them, wondering if he took them out during sex. Was he the type to go down on a woman? Stunna winked as he if sensed the direction of your thoughts.

He placed his hand on your lower back and led you back to the bar. You ordered some water and he made you order a drink. “Since you don’t wanna give a nigga your phone number,” he said with a show-stopping smile. 

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you want my number?” You asked. You drank the water bottle at his nudging.

“So I can hear that sexy ass voice in my ear,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes playfully and played with the paper around the water bottle. “You’re so bad,” you said. 

He shrugged his shoulders, calling your name like he was savoring the taste of it. “I’m still right though. I want to keep talking to you,” he said.

You could practically feel your friends on your shoulders like little devils pushing you to give him your number. What harm could it do? You held out your hand for his phone. He dug it out of his pocket and handed it to you.

His total focus on you while you entered your number was unnerving. You couldn’t help giggling as you put in your number. He reached out and trailed a finger down your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. You messed up on a number and giggled in his direction.

“You’re distracting me,” you said. 

“Yeah? Good. But make sure that number right,” he said. He peeked across the screen as you backspaced and entered your number correctly. 

He smelled like his cologne, sweat, and whatever drink he had throughout the night. You handed his phone back to him. You fanned yourself with your clutch while he looked at his phone. 

He smiled and tapped a few times. “There, now you have my number,” he said. 

The butterflies returned to your stomach the longer you spent in his presence. He liked that he could fluster you so easily and tried his damndest to keep doing so. Your cheeks ached from all the smiling you did. 

You talked more about yourself and your friends and why you came to the D.R. He told you that he was out here celebrating for his friend’s wedding. The wedding had already passed, cheaper during the week, so they were spending the weekend celebrating with friends.

“It’s nice of you all to come out here and celebrate with them,” you said. Stunna turned his head to the side, he didn’t hear you. The music seemed to get louder and even though you yelled, he couldn’t hear you.

Stunna scooted closer to you and yelled in your ear. “Wanna go outside?” 

You looked at him and nodded. You couldn’t hear shit, but you were pretty sure you could hear your friends whooping for joy as Stunna took your hand and led you outside of the club.

Your ears popped as you reached the quiet interior of the lobby. There was a stark contrast between the two rooms and your ears rung. You shook your head, trying to clear the ringing. Stunna did the same, shaking his shoulders too for good measure.

Being out in the lobby, the base temperature felt like frost at the top of a mountain. You shivered as it highlighted buckets of sweat rolling down your spine and between your breasts. 

A drop of sweat rolled down Stunna’s arm and you followed the movement as it trailed down a prominent vein. Stunna still held your hand and you walked out of the resort, past the open pool that shimmered with light from nearby lamps. 

You walked along the concrete pathways heading down to the beach. Before you stepped onto the sand, you leaned down and took off your wedges. Stunna took off his boots, and rolled up his pants legs. 

“Looks like I was smart to wear a dress,” you said and giggled at him. 

“Damn smart. I’m glad you did. Your body in that dress, hmm,’ he said and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Stop,” you chuckled and shook your head. He was incorrigible. 

“Naw, I can’t. Your ass looks amazing. Thighs I just wanna squeeze. Lips I wanna kiss,” he said. He stood up to his full height and you stared at him.

Soft moonlight fell over his features on one side of his face. The lamps gave a warm glow on the other side. He was light, soaking it all up and reflecting it back out to seem like he had an inner glow. 

You sighed, staring at this work of art before you. You wanted to pinch yourself. You stepped closer but Stunna only smiled, grabbed your hand, and you took off down the beach. You spent time walking up and down, warm sand digging between your toes. 

You talked more, learning about him and how much he loved to read. You shared that passion and spoke about books you’ve read and favorite authors. He took your recommendations seriously, pulling out his phone to add books to a list on his phone. 

“Come back to my room,” he said.

You shook your head. “Won’t your friends be looking for you?” 

“Naw. I got my own room. I ain’t sharing shit with them nasty niggas,” he said.

You laughed, moving away from him as the sand made you trip up. Stunna pulled you back to his side. “See, yo clumsy ass need somewhere to sit. Come sit in my room,” he said. 

You were back in the same position from earlier when he rescued you from falling. He gripped your elbows, standing close enough to lick, and your hands were on his arms. He was too close, surrounding you with him. You couldn’t think past him. When you looked up, all you saw was him. 

You waited to feel panicked and shaky. To warn you to step away and flee from him. It never came. “If I go back to your room, I doubt we’ll just be sitting,” you said.

“I never said that. That’s yo nasty mind,” he said. He licked his lips. “But I like the way you think. You wanna come sit in my lap?” 

There were no reservations. No warning bells in your head. No screeches of noise or racing thoughts to prevent you from biting your lip and nodding. From grabbing his hand and watching each other as you left the beach and headed inside. 

You didn’t talk as you leaned against one another in the elevator. He placed a kiss to your head and you melted even further into him. The elevator softly dinged and the doors opened to his floor. He stayed in the building next to your room. You were sort of relieved. Had he stayed in the same building or even on the same floor, it would have been too perfect. Too obviously a set up by God or whoever was out there listening. 

Stunna swiped his keycard once he got to his room and opened the door. You walked inside the cool room and turned on lights. 

He had a suitcase on the couch of his suite, open to reveal some clothes he packed. He had shoes strewn about but for the most part, he was a clean guest. He closed the door and you turned to look at him. 

You placed your shoes on the ground next to his, marveling at the contrast between your sizes. It looked oddly perfect sitting side by side. You ignored that runaway thought as you quickly texted your friends that you would be late to the room. It was a good chance to not wait up for you at all if this night went how you were expecting.

Stunna watched you place your clutch on the TV stand. He moved about the room, cleaning up but it wasn’t necessary. Just bags and bottles of water that were on the nightstand. 

“I’ll wash off this sand,” you told him. 

“I’ll go after you. Take your time,” he said.

Take your time, yeah right. If you took long enough, you would summon your anxiety like an ancient deity out for your blood. You quickly went to the bathroom and freshened up a little, running the bath to clean off your feet. You didn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. If you did, you would chicken out. 

You didn’t want to chicken out. You wanted a wild story. A story to tuck in your heart and bring out as the years passed and you lived your life. A story that you held on to when you got older and your partying days was nearing its end. 

When you left the bathroom, Stunna had lowered the lights to make it more intimate and softer. He opened the curtains revealing a balcony that overlooked the ocean. He stood outside, twisting caps off of water bottles. He also had a bottle of Hennesy on the small table outside. 

You approached and he smiled when you did. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He went to the bathroom to clean off the sand. You stepped out fully and enjoyed the breeze kissing your skin. You sipped some of the Hennessy, enjoying that sweet burn. The ocean waves crashed against the shore but from this height, you saw further than you did in your room. 

Few stars were able to wink in and out behind dark clouds in the sky. The half moon shone down onto the beach and over the resort. Stunna returned and wrapped his hands around your waist, leaning against you. 

He grabbed the cup from your hands and finished the rest. He kissed his way along your exposed neck, sending shivers down your spine. You sighed and relaxed into him. He made no move to do anything else, no roaming hands or nasty words. 

“You are so gorgeous,” he said.

You turned in his arms and faced him. “I’m done talking. Kiss me,” you said.

He grinned, flashing those damn golds that have been driving you crazy all night. “You sure?”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer before you lost your nerve. You finally tasted him, tasted the bite of Hennessy on his lips. His lips were warm and wet and his tongue dived into your mouth. You moaned as he explored, running his tongue along yours and along your teeth. 

Stunna’s hands gripped your arms and moved lower, cupping your ass and squeezing tight. You growled from how good it felt. How wonderful it felt to be in his arms. Stunna hissed in between his kisses, like you were both on fire but he was willing to risk kissing you through the flames.

Your back was against the railing and he pushed into you, rubbing his erection against your tummy. You moaned. 

“Keep moaning like that and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said against your lips. You opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Don’t control yourself,” you said. 

He laughed and licked his lips. He sat down in the closest chair and pulled you into his lap. You straddled him, wobbling a bit since his stance was so wide. Your legs draped on the outside of his and he spread his legs so that he could spread you wider. 

His hands searched under your dress so that he could cup your ass directly. Dig those skillful fingers into the meat of your ass. He spanked one cheek and you jerked in his lap, your pussy rubbing against the fabric of his jeans. 

He growled, fingers seeking your wet heat. When he found your clit, he had no mercy. He began to run his thumb around the sensitive nub. You scooted higher on his lap, needing the friction of his jeans to help speed your arousal along. Not that you really needed it. You were already dripping for him. 

“Mm, so wet. You always sit your pretty ass on strangers and let them finger your pussy?” He asked around kissing you. 

“N-No,” you moaned. 

He suckled on your bottom lip and your pussy throbbed. He was working some type of magic between your legs. Some type of spell that threatened to rip you into pieces. 

“No? You telling me that this is all for me?” He asked. “I get to be the one to play with you?” 

“Yess,” you sighed against his lips. 

“Then I should feel special that you’re soaking my fingers already and I’ve yet to feel you?” 

“Shit,” you sighed. Your arms were wrapped completely around his neck, holding onto him and keeping him close. 

He kissed your neck, licking it, while his fingers finally dipped into your entrance. You shook with a long moan, throwing your head back as pleasure rolled through you in cascading waves. 

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?” He asked. 

“N-No,” you whined. 

He chuckled. “You letting me play with your pussy. And it feels so good gripping my fingers. Bad little girl,” he growled against your throat. 

His other hand snaked up your body until he gripped your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back as he squeezed with force. He brought your head closer so that your foreheads were touching. 

His fingers increased in pressure and he drove them into you. Effectively fucking you with his fingers. “Say you’re a bad girl,” he said. 

Your breathing was heavy and slow, not pumping enough oxygen into your brain. Or perhaps it was him. Perhaps he was some type of demon, stealing the oxygen from your lungs as your orgasm swam to the surface. 

You couldn’t make your words work. The words stuck to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. Your mouth moved, working double time as he stuck two fingers inside and rolled your clit with his thumb.

“Say it if you wanna cum,” he said.

“I wanna,” you whined. 

“You wanna what?” He asked. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet. Can’t wait to taste you. Do you taste as sweet as you look?” 

You whined and gyrated your hips. Why couldn’t you say anything? Why couldn’t your mouth work to speak? 

“I wanna cum,” you finally choked out. You leaned your head back. He allowed you to do so and he kissed your neck around his fingers, dipping low to kiss your chest and just above your breasts. 

“Say you’re a bad girl if you wanna cum,” he demanded. 

You were close. Incredibly close. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you moaned.

“I’m waiting,” he whispered against your skin. Blowing air across your chest, around the pools of saliva he left on your skin. 

“I’m bad. I’m a bad girl,” you moaned.

“So bad,” he agreed.

“So bad. You make me feel so good,” you moaned. 

His fingers never stopped pumping into you. Your legs squeezed his and your eyes shut as you cried with your orgasm. Stunna continued to pump his fingers as you came, cooing against your skin. 

“So pretty when you cum,” he said. When you were done and slumped against him, he withdrew his fingers. Shivers still wracked your body. He moaned while he suckled on his fingers, licking up your essence.

You watched him as he closed his eyes and savored your taste. You licked your lips watching him. He cleaned his fingers and gave you a wink. “You okay?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I wanna taste you too,” you said. 

He grinned. “Get on your knees,” he said. You slid off of his lap with a lopsided smile. The balcony floor wasn’t entirely comfortable, but you were too focused on him unzipping his pants. He released himself from his pants and briefs. 

Your eyes widened. You couldn’t possibly fit the whole thing in your mouth?! 

Stunna chuckled and moved to put his dick away but you gripped his thighs. “I said, I want to taste you too.” You glanced at him as you took him into your mouth. He gave you an impressed smirk, licking his lips at the look of you taking him deep within your mouth.

You couldn’t fit all of him like you thought. But you got enough of him down. You hoped that your inexperience didn’t show. You’ve sucked dicks before but he was probably used to throat goats. Used to women taking him down to the base, fondling his balls, or knowing what the fuck to do.

You only knew that you wanted to keep going. Wanted to please him. You drooled on him and released him to get some air. Using both hands, you twisted his long shaft and then suckled the head of his dick back into your mouth.

His eyes opened and closed, back bowing off of the chair, as he groaned. His hand palmed your head and pushed you down on his dick, pushing you past your limit until you choked. He eased up, but you took him how he wanted. Your saliva helped your hands twist around his dick and coat his tip.

“Gahh damn. Fuckin’ nasty,” he groaned. You made a pleased sound in the back of your throat and continued to take him deeper and faster. Your sloppy, wet suckling was loud in the quiet air. 

You slurped him, drops of precum hitting your tongue. You suckled him all down, glancing at him periodically to see the ecstasy on his face. The pleasure you were bringing him. 

“Gonna bust,” he groaned.

“Wanna taste,” you said around his dick. 

His breathing turned choppy before he tensed. You felt his orgasm travel up his shaft before he moaned, releasing his cum in your mouth. You continued to milk him for every drop you could. You swallowed him all down. 

He pushed at your shoulders to stop, sounds escaping him that you never heard from a man. “Too good,” he panted.

You grinned. You wiped at the corners of your mouth. “You’re dangerous,” he said.

You blinked up innocently at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said. 

His eyebrows raised and he chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Remember you said that,” he said. 

He scooted the chair back and stood up, helping you to your feet. He pushed you into the room and closed the balcony door, leaving behind a tiny crack to still let in the breeze from the ocean. 

He unzipped your dress and dropped it to the floor, sighing at the look of your body. You never felt so cherished during sex. You weren’t expecting love and all that crap whenever you took someone to bed. It was more like an overwhelming itch that needed to be scratched.

After the deed, your anxiety returned with a vengeance and you were the first out of the door. No one wanted to deal with an anxious mess after getting off. 

With Stunna, there was none of that usual nervousness or shyness holding you back. You just wanted him. 

Your soaked panties went next. He knelt down, doing all the work of removing it. He kissed along your spine and back, the globes of your ass, and the back of your thighs. You shivered at the attention. The care with which he removed your panties.

He stood back up and unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. He eagerly grabbed them from behind and rolled your nipples between his fingers. He pulled you until you leaned back against him.

“Can’t wait to get these in my mouth. I wanna be a gentleman, but fuck. I just want to break you,” he said.

A vicious tingle spread around your thighs. “I never asked you to be a gentleman,” you said.

He chuckled. “Fair, but I don’t wanna scare you away,” he said. 

“I’m a big girl. I can use my words when I need to,” you said.

“Yeah? Get on the bed then. Hands and knees, bad girl,” he said. He smacked your ass, hard and you did as instructed. You climbed into his bed and got on your hands and knees. 

You were too far away however. He grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He gripped himself and shoved into your inviting pussy with one savage thrust. His grip on your hip prevented you from escaping. You tried to lean forward, but he held you in place.

He pressed on your back until your chest was against the bed. Your ass was high in the air, giving him total access to you. He smacked your ass. 

“You been talkin’ mad shit all night,” he said. He began to stroke, delivering hard and long thrusts that immediately found your G-spot.

“Oh shit!” You cried out. 

“That’s my shit.” You heard the pleased grin in his tone. How did he find it so fast? 

He continued to stroke, hitting your sweet spot over and over with military precision. He smacked your ass with one hand while the other kept a firm grip. “You ain’t so bold now. A little dick shuts you up?” He asked. 

You couldn’t speak. He was slamming into you so hard, just the way you always dreamt of. It brought tears to your eyes. Most guys were afraid to be rough. Afraid of catching a case once you asked them to go a little deeper or stroke a little harder. 

Not Stunna. He drove into you, seeking something you couldn’t name. It didn’t take long before you were convulsing, shaking on his dick. 

“Talk to me, then. Say somethin’ else,” he said.

“Achgg,” you moaned, eyes rolling. 

Stunna continued to work himself inside of you. His dick speared you. Nearly split you in half. You bounced back on his dick, giving as much as you got. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Don’t let me stand in your way. You take what you need from me,” he said. 

Wet, smacking noises filled the room. The sound of your combined fucking pushed another orgasm to the surface. Your ass clapped on his thighs. Your screams were sure to draw the attention of his neighbors. 

He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Fuuh,” you moaned.

Both of you matched each other’s intensity. He pulled you by your throat to swallow every long inch of him. Your desperate thrusts sounded like thunder against his skin. 

“Goh, goh, fuh,” you chanted in rapid succession. 

“So good, so good. Pussy feel so good. You were made to take this dick, weren’t you? You were made for it,” he groaned. 

Your hands feebly held onto the bed in front of you but there was no use. This was so intense and passionate that your orgasm crushed you into a tiny ball and flung you into a tornado. You screamed until you were hoarse. Drool leaked out of your mouth with your whiny cries. 

Stunna continued to hold your throat and pound, chasing his own climax. “Greedy ass. Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned. 

You were shaking as you rode out your orgasm. As soon as you ended, he began. He flooded your pussy with his cum, roaring like an animal as he climaxed. Your body twitched and spasmed on his dick. His dick hit something deep inside, too deep to know what. But it hit a natural reset. 

Stunna let go of your throat and held onto your hips to keep from falling on top of you. You both panted, harsh breaths filling the room. You sniffled as you recovered, brain quiet for once. 

Stunna slipped out of you and he leaned back to watch his cum slip out. He panted and his breaths fell across your ass and pussy. 

“Fuck,” he said. 

You agreed. You never felt something like that before. Possessed. Owned. It was a feeling you would spend your entire life trying to find again. Would you be able to? 

Both of you were too wobbly to move. As if with your dual climaxes, you had entered a new plane of existence. Being back in the real world sucked. It seemed foreign. You were changed by the experience so why hadn’t the world changed? 

Stunna left to go to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. You cried at the sensation. “Shh, shh, I got you,” he said.

The rough fucking was everything you needed but you were fucking sore. You ached. It felt too damn good for you to complain though. He gently cleaned you up, wiping you down and wiping off some of the sweat. 

You curled up into a ball, trying to will yourself to move. To get dressed and make your escape. You felt like the sex police would descend from the ceiling and arrest you for upsetting the natural law of the universe. 

You couldn’t move. You felt too raw, too exposed. You focused on your breathing, on drawing air in and then out. Stunna returned from the bathroom and you cringed at the picture you must make.

“I’ll leave just as soon as my legs work,” you mumbled. 

Stunna chuckled. “Can you stay?” He sat on the bed in front of you. You were too afraid to look in his eyes. You didn’t know if you were over exaggerating the moment. You wouldn’t be able to bear it if you felt like your world tilted on its axis while it was just Friday night to him. 

Stunna laid down on the bed and lifted your chin with his fingers. “Please, stay,” he whispered.

His eyes swirled with emotion. As if the moment you left, this would all disappear from memory. Until he wasn’t sure if he dreamt this or it was real. It only mirrored what you were feeling so you nodded and he grinned. “What you need?” 

For your skin to feel like it wasn't going to slough off the moment you unfurled. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded as if he understood the turmoil inside of you. He stood up and then came around to lay behind you. His hands came around your arms and knees, pulling you into the heat of his body.

You sighed. Exactly what you needed. He pulled the covers over you, wrapping you in a tiny cocoon of heat. You drifted off to the sound of his quiet breathing. The last thing you felt was a tiny kiss behind your ear. 

In the morning, you yawned and stretched. Stunna was asleep next to you. Somehow, you were laying properly in the bed, head on a pillow and his hand draped across your tummy. You watched him in the early morning light. 

This was dangerous. Ludicrous. It was crazy to feel this type of connection with someone else. Someone so obviously built for you yet it couldn’t last. Tomorrow you were flying back home. On Monday, it was back to classes. 

After taking a peek at the edge of the universe, how did you go back to normal? How did you carry on and keep this in your memory bank? 

You had to get out. You lifted his hand to scoot away from him. Away from the oppressive heat that made sweat pool behind your knees. 

Stunna groaned and sniffed, pulling you back against his side. “Where you think you going?” He asked. 

You giggled. “Back to my suite,” you said. 

“You was gonna sneak out? That’s cold,” he said. His deep voice was rough from sleep and it made your pussy flutter. Really? After all that last night, she was still ready to go?!

“Sneak is such an ugly word.” You sighed as he finally cracked one eye open and looked at you.

“At least let me get you breakfast. You can get changed and meet me right back here,” he said.

You laughed. “What if I have plans?” You asked.

“You do. With me,” he said. 

You shook your head. “You’re crazy.” 

He grabbed your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were perfect against each other, skin tones perfectly aligned. 

“Please? Text your friends and tell them you’re safe. When do you leave?” He asked.

“Tomorrow,” you said.

“See? Give me one last day until we can figure out when we’ll see each other again.” 

You sighed. You couldn’t say no to that face. Those eyes. You bit your lip and nodded. He grinned, peppering you with kisses all over your face. 

He ordered room service and ate you out before it came up. He moaned and suckled while he did so, grinding his hips into the bed like he wanted to bury his face into your pussy forever. 

When the food arrived, you talked and ate and laughed, sharing more details about yourself but not personal information like the fact that you were in school or where he was working. You talked through safe subjects but all the information you gathered about him, you held it close to your heart. 

Each passing moment spent with him carved out a section of your heart and replaced it with a gorgeous, sexy man named Stunna. You did make it back to your room where your friends gushed over your night. You still had no words but you squealed while you showered and begged their forgiveness while you planned to spend the day with Stunna. 

They encouraged you, admitting that in a move that surprised no one, they found their way to their own flavor of the day. They agreed to come back to the room at a decent hour to pack away their shit and figure out their flight. 

You spent the rest of the day with Stunna, outside of his suite, walking around the resort. It had a small gambling area where he tried to show you how to play poker. He was a very sweet teacher, but you couldn’t make heads nor tails of the rules. You were more of a spades player, but good luck finding that shit here. 

You shared desserts and walked along the beach, sitting in the sand in between his legs and talking some more. Stunna stole kisses throughout the day, unwilling to leave your lips for the second it took to breathe and join back together. 

As night fell, you ate dinner with him and found your way back to his room where you slowly peeled each other’s clothes off. Where you feasted your eyes on his skin. Gasped as he entered you once more and you gave each other untold amounts of pleasure.

Where he held you like he loved you but fucked you like you stole something from him. You came, looking into his molten brown eyes, nuzzling your cheek against the stubble on his chin. He came with your legs pinned to the mattress and his dick threatening to fuck you into the mattress, the floor, and the next floor down. 

You kissed and cuddled while you talked about talking to him every day. He entered you again while you were stubborn, saying you might be busy. 

“Naw, this shit belong to me now,” he said while he thrusted into you for the…third time that night? Fourth? Who kept count while his delicious dick was inside you and you felt whole again? Complete. 

“It belongs to me,” you said.

He grinned and bit your nipple, then licked away the sting. He continued to nibble across delicate skin, moaning when he found your other nipple and tugged with his teeth. You hissed and your back curved, giving him all the access he wanted. 

“Do we have a problem?” He asked.

“Do we?” You countered.

He grinned and then slipped out of you, only to hike one of your legs up in the air. He reentered you from the side, slamming into you until you were crying and shaking on his dick, screaming out his name. 

“Stay talkin’ shit,” he groaned as he filled you up once more.

Saying goodbye to him was the hardest shit you ever had to do. It was like you both knew that even with talking every day, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as lying next to him and feeling him take up space in the room, in your heart, in your pussy. 

He kept tugging you back for one more kiss, asking if he could walk you to your room. You were blinking back tears. You didn’t want to leave him. But you couldn’t stay either. Both of you had places to be, lives to get back to. 

He leaned in the doorframe, holding your hand and not letting you leave. You smiled. “Stunna, you have to let go.” 

“I’on want to,” he said.

“It’s not forever,” you said, trying to sound hopeful. Your words only sounded sad. He sighed and rubbed his head on his arm. 

“I know. I know.” 

He pulled you close to him, capturing your lips with a devastating kiss. You licked his lips, committing the taste and smell of him to memory. “Not forever,” he said.

“Not forever.” 

You turned and snatched your hand. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have the strength to leave. A cold numbness seeped into your bones as you made the trek to your suite. Stella and Angela commented on how melancholy you seemed.

How could you explain it? That you possibly found your soulmate in Punta Cana and had to leave him here? To be happy with texts and phone calls? Poor substitutes to hugging him, cuddling him, kissing him, fucking him? 

You told them that you were all fucked out to explain it now. Ask you in a week. When your heart wasn’t broken and the pain was less intense. Less potent. 

They left you alone to wallow while you all packed up your things and souvenirs. The ride back home was uneventful. You weren’t up to the usual plane shenanigans of talking and comparing in-flight meals. You didn’t feel like eating at all. 

You texted Stunna that you arrived safely and even spoke to him on the phone. But it only hurt worse. “C’mon, we said not forever,” he said. 

The bastard was right though. Hearing his voice in your ear helped but it wasn’t the same.

“Not forever. I just want you here,” you said.

“I know. We did a few things backward, but when we’re comfortable, we’ll arrange something,” he said. 

You talked until you absolutely had to go to sleep to get ready for class. Luckily, your first class of the day was in the afternoon. You had a chance to recover from the plane ride and time difference.

Everything was dull. The California sun was dull. The campus was boring. Students felt like aliens to you, playing and existing in a world that ended for you back in Punta Cana in Stunna’s arms. 

You sighed, not for the hundredth time, as you dragged your carcass across campus and to your class. Settling into your literature class, you didn’t share this with Stella and Angela. You were left to look out of the window, mind far, far away.

Your pen tapped on the desk, picturing that accidental bump into Stunna over and over again. Act of fate? Accident? How could you meet the love of your life only for you to be ripped away from him and planted back into your normal life like nothing was wrong? 

The door opened and you assumed your teacher came through. Whatever.

“Sorry, I’m late. Not used to the campus yet.”

Your head whipped around and there he was. Stunna stood at the front of the class wearing a deep brown sweater over chocolate colored pants. The sleeves were rolled up revealing his smooth forearms. 

He wrote his name on the whiteboard and your heart seized in your chest. Panic made your heart pound against your rib cage, practically screaming to be let out. You sunk in your seat. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

Stunna turned around and smiled at the class. When his eyes found yours, his jaw dropped and he stared. He stared and stared and you didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was going to do.

He cleared his throat and smiled at the class, introducing his real name. Not that you thought Stunna was his real name, but it was the name he usually went by. His eyes kept returning to yours.

You…slept with your college professor. Your life was over. Ruined. How the hell could you fall in love with your professor? And what the hell were you going to do now?

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 2 | Part 3

[eventiderookery]

destiny artists that draw the awoken with pointed ears and black sclera i am blowing you a kiss for all that you do for society