#those two are just the ones I focus on most so I like tying them in XD ]

[cold-neon-ocean]

.

[amyispxnk]

Grease and sweat

Summary - Another day, another venture out of the walls of the Boston QZ with Joel Miller. AKA, another day spent fantasizing about the burly man whom you spend most of your time with these days. When the two of you have to hole up for the night, things get a little heated, and you finally snap.

A/N: i started this oneshot like 6 months ago and finally found some random motivation today to finish it. and im not gonna spoil anything but like.. why has noone talked about this in a fic before? im literally salivating when he does this during the game and like.. yeah. idk. you’ll see.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!! (oral f!receiving, unprotected PiV sex - don’t do this, especially during an apocalypse!, mentions of masturbation, lewd thoughts), language, age gap (roughly 15 years), firearms, pet names, fluff, aftercare

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at, kid?” Joel practically spat, having noticed the way you were eyeing him whilst he worked.

You scoffed, walking up to the workbench he was currently using. Kid. You weren’t a kid. Sure, you were almost 15 years younger than him, but you certainly weren’t a kid.

“I’m 34, Joel. Not a kid.” You argued, leaning on the wall and watching him work.

He just grunted in response before resuming what he was doing before, starting with cleaning his pistol.

His fingers danced along the metal, digging into certain bits with the old rag he used to get any grime out, before he used the screwdriver to make a few adjustments to the handgun.

You never really understood how to do all the fancy things he did with his weapons, and you probably should considering how intently you watched him whenever the pair of you came across one of these old benches - but you couldn’t focus on the guns which were in his hands. His big, strong, rough hands. You’d trade places with those guns just to feel his hands on you like that. He took so much care of the damn things too, like they were the most precious things in his life. Always cleaning and repairing them like this, practically never letting you touch them.. What did those guns have that you didn’t? You thought to yourself as you watched him, gaze drifting to his fingers in particular. The ones you’d dreamt about far too many times, the ones you’d imagined inside of yourself rather than your own when you touched yourself. It was the way they moved, how thick they were, and how the veins in his hands and muscles flexed when he gripped his bow, and the way his arms would shine with his sweat as he worked. You’d lick the sweat off his body if he asked you to. Depraved as it sounds.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Your absolutely maddening desire for and sickening crush on the man whom you knew close to nothing about. Just his name and a few things he revealed to you when the night was particularly long or the whisky he was having took a toll on his judgement, loosening him up for once. You knew where he was from, what his job was before, and you knew that he was basically just a grumpy old asshole who was only good for beating up guys when you went on supply runs.

He had never been overly kind to you, not that you needed it, had never asked you any questions, didn’t make small talk, and was a ruthless murderer.

You loved every single thing about him.

And you wanted to show him. You wanted him to love you back, no matter how he’d love you. You wouldn’t mind if he was a cold lover, a mean one - hell, he almost definitely was - you’d take him any way you could get him.

You looked back at his hands once more, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he had to use his ring and middle fingers to clean out part of another gun, your thighs clenching together as you felt the all-too-familiar wetness start to form between them and making you groan when you realised you’d probably have to rub one out when you got back later. It was honestly annoying the amount of times you came by your own hand, his name on your lips, because you knew how much better it would feel if it was his thick fingers pushing into you, his big hands palming your breasts, his strong arms holding you down as he made you come over and over…

“Let’s get goin’.” He says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts as he tucks his gun away and slings his backpack on.

You push yourself off of the wall and follow him quickly, trying not to look flustered although you very much felt it.

He came to an abrupt stop when you reached your normal exit from this little pitstop en route to the guys who gave you weapons, and you almost walked face-first into his back.

“Joel? Wha-” you began, but he cut you off.

“This shouldn’t be closed.” He murmurs, like he’s talking to himself, not allowing you any time to respond before he’s going over to pull the chain which should open the garage door.

It doesn’t.

No matter how much he pulls on the metal, grunting and groaning and making your eyes flutter shut whilst you force your needy whimpers down with the noises he’s making, it barely opens, slamming shut every time he gets close to getting it open a quarter of the way.

“Fuck.” He grits, giving up and slamming his hand against the thing. It would be no use trying with that door anymore, the noise it was making was getting too loud anyway.

He stands there, clearly thinking hard about what to do. You can’t turn back because that would just lead you straight back to the QZ, which was useless to you right now, but you don’t have any other secured ways to get to your vendors - how could he have been so stupid to not plan ahead, he ridicules himself silently.

“Joel? What’s the plan?” You ask, getting slightly impatient with his constant silence. He may have been this hot brooding older man, but he could really leave you in the dark sometimes like this.

“Will you let me think, goddamnit?” He responds, clearly annoyed with your current predicament, scratching at his jaw before looking back up at you.

“Could try that window.” You suggest quietly, looking upwards. It was high and small, but you’d be able to get through it if he gave you a boost up.

He gave you a small nod before you both made your way up there and he got into position, hands outstretched and placed together as you got on and pushed yourself up. Normally, whenever he did this, you’d feel all dizzy afterwards from the proximity and his touch - but as soon as you looked out the window you were horrified. There were infected, just past the jammed door - and a whole lot of them. You weren’t getting past that. Forget the deal, you’d come back another day.

“Joel.” You say, not even realising you were whispering. He doesn’t answer.

“Joel! Joel, get me down.” You whisper-shout, and he furrows his brows.

“Why? What’s the matter?” He asks, and you have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes.

“Just get me down.” You say through clenched teeth, taking another look outside the window before he carefully lowers you. Of course, he boosts you up regularly, but he rarely ever tries to get you back down, so you stumble a bit and end up with your face against his chest as he falls back onto the wall slightly.

“Jesus, woman!” He grunts, but you don’t even try to move, you just look up at him with those fucking doe eyes of yours and it takes everything in him to not groan at the sight of you. God knows how many times he’s imagined you looking up at him whilst you sucked his cock, knelt on the floor with tears in your eyes and your hair all messy for him with your big eyes staring into his.

You open your mouth to speak, before realising the position you’re in and quickly standing up.

“I- there were infected outside, Joel.” You explain after a moment.

“So?” He questions you, squinting in confusion slightly. You’ve taken down infected before, no problem. What’s the issue today?

“No, like- I swear it looked like there were a hundred of them. Just this big fucking horde, right outside the garage door.” You gestured back towards the exit.

He clenched his jaw. Yeah, okay, you could take down some infected, not a hundred.

“Y’sure?”

“I’m fucking sure, Joel!” You almost yelled, way too many emotions going on in your body for you to act normal right now.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He looked back outside. It was almost dark, there was no way you could get back to Boston in time now. It just wasn’t safe to go that far so late, and there was no point since you’d have to sneak by all the guards - who hopefully wouldn’t notice if you were gone for one night - to get back in.

“Go check all the doors, lock ‘em and then barricade ‘em. We’re gonna have to hold up here for tonight, then go back at dawn.” He decides, and you gape at him like a fish.

“We’re staying here?! Joel, what about curfew and the- the fucking infected right outside-” you start, but he silences you once again.

“We’re gonna be fine. When have things ever gone wrong for us since you started comin’ out with me?” He questions sternly, and you ponder it.

Never, really. He always saved you, and you’d save him when he needed it - even though it was only a handful of times he did.

“‘Kay, fine. Whatever.” You mumble stubbornly before turning round to go secure the doors leading to the small mechanic store you’d be staying in.

He looks around himself for any openings and closes them up before you both end up back in the main room.

It’s mostly silent as you look around at different things, poking at the ruined cars and whatnot whilst he sits on a crate and watches you as discreetly as possible.

“I have a question.” You say, turning to face him and making him snap his head away from you before you notice he was looking at you already.

He grunts to tell you to continue speaking, looking back at you when you do.

“Could you like.. show me how to fix up my guns and stuff? ‘Cause you always do it for me and I just thought it was.. Cool.” you murmur, trailing off at the end.

He actually lets out a small laugh at that. Not in a mean way, necessarily, just kind of teasingly.

“Cool?” He repeats with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, cool. It just- with all the attachments and shit. And I can never clean them properly.” You sigh, walking up closer to him. “Please? We’ve got nothing else to do.”

The sound of you saying please for him in that small voice wins him over. “Fine.” He gets up off the crate, walking back over to the workbench and flicking the light on before taking your gun from you. He talks you through it, shows you a little how to clean it before letting you try it yourself, and then he shows you how to add a scope to it. You can’t quite grasp it though, not being strong and precise enough to attach it properly, so he places his hands on top of yours and helps you screw it on.

The contact makes you shudder so violently that he definitely felt it, and you want to crumple into the ground.

“What was that for?” He murmurs, and you almost jump at how close he is now, voice loud and breath hot on the side of your face as he leans over your shoulder to look at the gun whilst he tries to help you.

“No-nothing.” You squeak, breathing at least ten times faster now.

He feels it. He knows. He has to know, you’d been so stupid and revealed it all now. Joel Miller was not an idiot and he knew how you felt and he’d hate you for it. Your thoughts spiralled.

“Nothin’, huh?” He taunts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you slowly crumble. To make it worse, he turns you in his hold, so you’re pinned with your back to the desk and his hands on either side of you.

“Y’alright, darlin’? You look awfully hot. Don’t got a fever or nothin’?” He mumbles, seeing how far he can push you as he leans in closer.

“I-I’m fine.” You say quietly, mesmerised by the sight of his face so close as you notice little details you’d never noticed before, barely even realising his lips are so close to your own until he’s pressing them to yours.

You make a slight noise of surprise before you get lost in it. The feeling of his lips against yours was something you’d dreamed about for so long, and now it was finally happening.

Your hands come up and around his neck, pulling him closer towards you as he deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and overpowering you immediately as he pushes you back onto the workbench, sitting you on top of it and already working open the buttons of your jeans.

He kisses you one more time before getting to his knees and pulling your pants completely off, eyeing your panties, a dark patch in the middle of them from your growing arousal.

“Joel, please.” You whimper from above him as his hands run up your legs, coming to your inner thighs before toying with the elastic of your panties.

“Y’need me here, darlin’?” He asks, smirking up at you as his fingers move to rub slow circles into your clit through the fabric.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the contact, needy and desperate for him by this point. “Yes, please- please Joel.” You’re reduced to begging already, something you figure only he had the power to make you do.

He shushes you gently, fingers slowly peeling your panties down and groaning at the sight of your bare cunt, dripping and pulsing with need.

“Fuck, baby. Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin’ wet. This all for me?” He hums, dragging a finger up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on it and sucking it into his mouth as he looks up at you.

You whine at the sight of him between your legs like this, not knowing how you’re going to survive when he actually makes contact with you, and nod furiously.

“Yes, oh my god. Yes, it’s all for you Joel.” You say quickly, and he seems satisfied with that answer, finally moving his face to your core and making you squirm as his hot breath fans over your pussy.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’.” He murmurs, seemingly enraptured by the sight of you, staring for a few seconds and making you want to shift away again under his intense gaze, but he has an arm on you to make sure you don’t move.

And then he finally, finally, licks a long stripe up your pussy, tongue running along your wet folds. And you fucking lose it.

“Oh my god, Joel, please. Fuck- fuck, please, more-” you start begging, moaning loudly as he picks up the pace and continues to devour you, drinking down your wetness, and eventually kissing and sucking at your clit. His fingers, those thick gorgeous fingers you’d dreamed of for so long, tease your entrance before he’s pushing those inside, making you wail at the feeling of something inside of you, getting you closer to that release you were aching for by this point.

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, thighs shaking slightly as you feel yourself getting close.

“That’s right, baby. You like that?” He asks, voice an octave lower as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, tongue still working you over relentlessly.

“Please- it feels so good-” you whine in response, fingers grasping for something to hold onto, to tether yourself to earth with as you feel yourself start to float away. Finding his hair and tugging slightly which makes him groan.

“Good girl.” He praises, adding another finger. He curls his fingers, searching for your g-spot and finding it easily.

You moan weakly at the praise, hips bucking as you grind yourself against his mouth, the ridge of his nose stimulating your clit perfectly as your fingers pull at his hair, and before you know it, you’re coming with a hoarse scream of his name.

You see white as your thighs quiver around his head, tensing and squeezing slightly as he continues to work you through it, lapping at your juices until you cry out from the overstimulation.

He removes his fingers from your hole, licking them clean once more before standing up and removing his own clothes, revealing his hard cock and making your eyes widen slightly.

Of course he was big, you’d stared at the bulge of his jeans enough times to realise that, and you’d imagined it before, but it all paled in comparison to finally seeing it.

He was long, slightly curved, girthy with a flushed red tip which had precome leaking out of it as he pumped himself slowly with a smirk on his face.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” He hums teasingly, and you can’t even think straight anymore, just pulling him forward and kissing him hungrily as he positioned his cock at your slick entrance.

Needy little whines and whimpers flowed freely from your mouth straight into his, where he swallowed them whole before starting to push into you.

You part from the kiss suddenly, gasping as he pushes deeper and deeper, stretching you thoroughly, and you feel grateful that he has the decency to start off slow since you already feel like crying from how big he is, how fucking good it feels.

When he bottoms out, you’re already wrecked. He’s huge inside of you, and you can feel everything. Every single ridge, vein, and twitch of his pulsing cock as your walls hug him tightly.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs softly, making your heart swell at how tender he sounds right now, and you nod in response.

“Joel.. please move.” You whisper, and he complies, grabbing your hips and barely giving you a moment to think before he’s starting to pound into you, making you squeal as your arms came around his neck, nails digging into his back before his head ducks down into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point and making you clench harder around him, before moving down to your breasts, palming them and taking one of your nipples into his mouth as you scream his name.

“Joel! I’m gonna- gonna come- oh god, please!” You cry out, back arching. He growls, picking up the pace. He could feel his orgasm building, but he needed you to come first, needed to feel your tight walls clenching and gushing around him before he even considered his own pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more and I’ll fill you up. Fuck this little cunt full of me.. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He says, voice low and husky as his balls slap against your ass, the loud sound of your wetness filling the room as you start to tremble once more.

“Yes! Fuck, Joel. Need it so bad. Want your come inside of me. Please, Joel.” You gasp, making him groan as his fingers move down to rub at your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He encourages, speeding up even more and hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, making you scream as you come and dissolve into a shaking, whimpering mess whilst he continues to thrust into you.

“That’s it, darlin’. Come all over my cock.” He grunts, his own release approaching quickly. The sounds of your moans and cries are enough to set him off, barely thrusting a few more times before stilling and filling you with his hot seed, slowly fucking it even deeper inside of you before pulling out and looking at you.

Skin flushed, panting heavily, come leaking down your thighs. You looked perfect. He wished that cameras were still around so he could take a picture of how you looked right now, keep it in his pocket wherever he went. But he couldn’t, and he realised you probably needed cleaning up now as your hazy eyes blinked open and looked at him. You were quiet, thinking about what this meant for the two of you now. Would he go back to being the cold man you knew? Would he be even colder? Would he suddenly be attentive and caring towards you?

You supposed you got your answer when he gently cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he looked at you with something scarily close to love in his eyes, the gaze he’d somehow managed to conceal from you all these months which he could now finally show you.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and you nod weakly in response. He hums, giving you another small kiss before walking off to go get a rag to clean you up with.

“Hold on, let me just..” he mumbles to himself as he goes to try clean off any dust from the rag, before returning to between your thighs and cleaning away any evidence of your previous activities, tossing the rag somewhere and handing you your clothes. You get dressed quietly before he takes your hand and leads you over to a space on the floor where you set up your sleeping bags, putting them as close together as possible until he eventually just lets you tuck yourself into his, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and falling asleep.

You listen to his soft snores, feel his calloused hands on your stomach where they snaked under your shirt before he fell asleep, and smile to yourself softly before falling asleep with him.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and my requests are open 💞

[asunflowerana]

brownie bonding — Nanami Kento

summary: kento makes most of his quality time with his baby daughter.

warnings: pure fluff, dad!nanami, cooking.

wc: 800.

A warming melody of jazz echoes on the portable radio in the kitchen, filling the bonding moment perfectly. Nanami is just finishishing tying a cook’s apron around his waist, feeling a bit awkward to wear such a flowery print, but it was a request from his baby daughter. There’s no way he would refuse her. 

“You look pretty, daddy!” His sunshine compliments him, sitting in the high chair at the counter with her head covered by her tiny cook’s hat. She isn’t a kid that plays around: if she’s going to cook, she’ll wear the proper clothes for it.

Six years old, acting that way already. Imagine when she’s sixteen.

He can’t help but send her a fondly smile. One of the good things about having a kid is that you will always receive an honest answer from them. His little girl it’s saying he looks pretty, so maybe flower prints actually suit him. 

He moves his focus to the counter, checking the ingredients on display: sugar, butter, wheat flour, powdered chocolate, milk, eggs, chocolate chips. The mixer is set, the oven is heating up, and they have everything they need to start the day’s recipe:

Brownies

You’re on your way home from a business trip today, and they both came up with the idea of ​​surprising you with some brownies. In addition to welcoming you home with a delicious gift, Kento also takes this opportunity to spend more quality time with his daughter. She’s growing up so fast that he’s been feeling guilty for missing some moments of her life because of work. He wants to make sure that as long as he has time, he’ll make the most of it alongside her.

“Alright sweetheart, what’s the first step?” He claps his hands, giving her the task of leading and guiding them through the recipe. She bows to read the children’s cookbook she got for her birthday last year, and points her little index to the first illustrated step.

“We need to mix eggs with sugar.” She says, cautiously taking the mixer’s bowl and placing it in front of them. “Can I put them in, daddy?”

“You can, but you need to be careful with the eggs. Break this way.” He demonstrates to her, tapping the tip of the fork against the eggshell until it breaks a small part. He then opens it halfway, and pours the yolk and whites into the bowl. “Your turn now.”

Eri picks up another egg, and tries to imitate exactly what her father did, but ends up hitting the shell too hard, causing the egg to break right on the table and smear the wood with white and yolk. The dirt definitely doesn’t please her father, but he isn’t going to make a big deal of it. These things happen, even to adults, and he doesn’t want to make his daughter feel guilty about something like that. So when she looks at him with those fearful little eyes waiting for a scold, he starts to chuckle at the situation, making her visibly relax as the moment passes by.

They continue with the recipe, now with Nanami directly helping her put the ingredients into the bowl, and his heart warmed to see his daughter having fun cooking, her mini apron’s all dirty from chocolate. “Now we have to add the flour.” He takes the bag from the counter, and gives it to her. “Think you can do it, sweeheart?”

She nods eagerly, and starts pouring flour into the meter. A small amount of flour escapes, but she manages most part of the process, placing the measured flour into the bowl. “I did it!” She announces as soon as she’s done, a huge one missing tooth grin on her face.

Nanami smiles at his daughter’s delight, caressing the top of her head. “Yes sweetheart, you did it.” He presses the ‘on’ button on the mixer, and it starts to churn all the mixture into the bowl. The two watch together the mixture incorporate and become a smooth brown dough, which soon after was put on a platter to bake in the oven.

Since the brownie would take about forty minutes to bake, Nanami thought it would be a good time to give his sunshine a bath and get her ready before the sweet is done.

But his daughter has other plans in mind.

“Daddy, you have flour on your face.” She points in the direction, making him run his hand over his whole cheek. “No, missed.”

“Where’s it?” he asked, leaning his face close to let her clean it for him.

She puts one of her flour-covered hands to his nose, laughing when she sees the art she’s made on her father’s skin. “There.”

His first reaction is deadpan, not believing he fell for a six-year-old child’s trick. But he’s definitely not a quitter: as soon as she gets occupied laughing at his face, he places his hands on her sides and holds her, giving her a mischievous smile. “So this is how you want to play, huh? Very well, young lady… You shall be defeated.” He starts tickling her body, making her squirm and laugh even more. He releases her eventually, and the two soon start a big flour fight around the room, running and throwing flour everywhere.

Not only they’ll give you a brownie tray, but also a pretty messy kitchen to deal with afterwards. But you can’t deny that it’s worth the price. 

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 8 : Put Me On A Feeling I've Never Had

Note: Yeahh my bad, I was not supposed to be gone so long. I am so thankful anyone still here, I still love this story, my life just started lifing again you guys. Thank you for the notes, reblogs, comments and messages. Thank you to those who created things in honor of my story. I love interacting with you guys and hearing thoughts (constructively, I'm sensitive). This one is pretty long and Art and Heaven centric, but the full gang will be around in the next chapter. Once again thank you for the love and I hope you're still rocking with me. I was a little rusty but we're getting back into it. Also...there's a nasty scene, MDNI. Grown folks...the song I feel like is playing in the background is Novacane by Frank Ocean. If you guys have any songs you feel like apply to any characters or relationships in my story, please share! Thanks, hope you enjoy! <3

Warnings: Cheating (fr this time y'all :(), explicit sexual content (MDNI!!!!!), small mention of disordered eating, and some strong language.

Translation: Tanti baci- Many kisses; la mia dolce piccolina - My sweet little girl

Taglist: @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

2019 (California)

“Let’s go.” Tashi mumbles, tying the thick hotel robe around herself as she shuffles across the floor, forcing her lip not to curl as her scar peeks out from the heavy, white fabric. 

Art releases a deep breath, rolling from his stomach onto his back, determinedly keeping his eyes shut. His large hands blindly feel across the painfully cool, silk, sheets. Painfully empty, silk sheets. The folds slip along his fingers as he feels for a body that’s not there, finally giving up and forcing his eyes open to push off of the soft mattress. It’s not like it was offering him any comfort anyway. 

He pulls on a pair of shorts over his underwear before walking sluggishly to the bathroom to pee  and brush his teeth as he hears the hotel door clicking open, knowing none of them belong to the two people that he wanted to see the most. 

Like a zombie he stalks his way into the suite, the room filled with people Tashi hired in an effort to keep her machine oiled and running. Nutritionist, masseuse, physical therapist, assistant coach. All bustling around, shaking up the protein shake he was allowed to have in lieu of the real, delicious food that he could hear the rest of them murmuring about ordering. 

Art falls into his routine on autopilot, letting his personal trainer stretch his legs as he lies on the floor, stretching his back with the resistance band. All under the scrutiny of Tashi’s watchful eye out of her peripheral vision, focus flickering between Art and the television. He clenches his jaw and tries to drown out the sound of what feels like the 50 thousandth reporter questioning if today’s match was going to be the one that pulls him from his losing streak. 

Maybe they should get off their asses and try to see him on his court. Maybe then they wouldn’t feel so comfortable talking shit behind a desk and a camera while he was working his fucking ass off. 

“Art, relax your shoulders. You’re tense.”

That earns him another glance from Tashi, lips pursed as she pops a strawberry into her mouth.

The blond corrects his form, releasing the air constricting his chest, letting his eyes slip up toward the ceiling in resignation. 

After finishing his warm up stretches Art downs the protein shake, feet dragging lazily along as he stands in the kitchen trying to psych himself up for the day.

Donaldson has taken the win in several tournaments, even making his mark at Wimbledon, several grand slams-

That’s right, Shane. The only thing the player is missing is that elusive U.S. Open. Now, he was a fan favorite prior to a painful injury last spring, but has made a full recovery. And yet, he seems to be in some sort of slump, hopefully with the support of the new team hired by his coach he’ll be able to take the victory today in his match against DeMario-

Tashi slowly brings her gaze upward, raising her eyebrows at Art as he looks at her, dropping the plastic remote back onto the coffee table after muting the tv. Shrugging, she brings her coffee to her lips and sits back against the cushions, crossing her legs and facing the tv again. 

Art’s lips part as he works up the courage to say what he’d wanted to say for the last few months…hell maybe years. 

Before the words can come out, the door beeps again. The only other person with a key card clicks the door open and once again, the words get caught in Art’s throat, it’s too big of a risk. 

“Daddy!”

The little voice has Art’s heart clenching, blue eyes softening immediately as dark curls and big brown eyes come bouncing toward him, he’s bending to catch the girl attempting to fly into his arms, only to be stopped short.

“Hold on baby-” there goes the other voice, the one that makes his heart speed up instead of clench. Heaven lifts the squealing girl, grunting as she hoists her onto her hip, nuzzling her nose into her cheek. “Gotta let Daddy get ready for work right?”

“But I want to play with him.” his little girl whines and he could weep.

“Oh, you will, la mia dolce piccolina. But first, Daddy’s gotta get ready to play some tennis, you remember why?”

“Because he’s the best tennis player in the world.” She squeals. 

Heaven’s lips roll inward as she glances at Art then Tashi and then back to Art, whispering a quiet, “Yep.” Before walking over to the couch, lowering the little girl to Tashi, relishing in her giggles as she dangles her over the back so she can reach Tashi’s face, “Go on, tanti baci.”

Tashi smiles, accepting the uncoordinated kisses the child scatters all over her face, mumbling a thank you against her cheek before sending a meaningful look to Heaven, nodding her head in Art’s direction and turning back to the TV in front of her and turning the volume back up.

Art rolls his eyes, cocking his head back as Heaven makes her way over to him, the little girl squirming in her arms to smack her hands on her father’s cheeks. “Oh, is it my turn?”

“Yes!” She grins, cheeks dimpling in a way that makes him melt.

“Yes?” He cheeses back, blowing a raspberry into her hand and taking in each messy kiss his daughter plants on his skin. “Thank you, princess.” When his daughter releases Heaven adjusts her on her hip, a soft smile on her own face as she watches the interaction. Art stares down at her, watching the smallest of movements she gives him, her eyes flicking up to his and just as quickly turning away. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She says gently, finally giving him her eyes fully, pouty lips just begging for him to take them with his own. 

Art brings his hand to her chin, tilting it up to guide her to meet him halfway, sighing in relief when her eyes flicker closed in anticipation of a kiss. He places his other hand over his daughter’s eyes with a breathy chuckle, inching closer to her lips only to be stopped short by the creek of someone jumping up from the couch. 

“We need to get down to the courts.” Tashi calls, not looking up from her notebook, but clearly disapproving from the look he’d grown to know very well over these last few months. 

Before Art can do anything, Heaven recoils, pulling back again, this time shuffling a couple steps away, ponytail bouncing behind her as she walks between Art and Tashi, not offering either of them so much as a glance. Her voice fades as she disappears towards the kids room in the suite, the last thing he hears is her murmuring into the little girl’s ear. “Should we check on sissy? Maybe we can all order some breakfast before we watch Daddy play.”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes? Pancakes are for big girls, are you a big girl who can walk on her own without running to get Daddy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s good, mama, let’s get you some pancakes then.”

Art stares down the hallway, picking at the skin on his fingers as he tries to catch the rest of the conversation. Just a little bit more.

But he couldn’t have more, at least, not right now. He’d have to settle for this little bit he got. So, he scrubs his hand down his face, and grabs one of his shirts and follows Tashi out of the door, biting back a yawn.

“-and the pool.”

“And the pool? That seems like a lot of fun. I wonder when you’re going to practice your reading.” Heaven hums. She holds the door leading to the tennis courts, guiding the little girl through first before adjusting the two year old on her hip, following closely behind. “Don’t run, Aurora, walk to the seat please.” 

Her heels clack as she walks along the gravel walkway, nuzzling her cheek against the toddler in her arms, offering a soft smile to the man who helps her up to the seats reserved for Team Donaldson. Slipping shades onto her face, Heaven ducks her head to hide away from the reporters, suddenly noticing her arrival and snapping some distant pictures before they decide to swarm her. 

Tashi’s mother leans forward, kissing Heaven’s cheek, murmuring in her ear for her to pass her the baby to hold in the row behind her. Heaven crosses her legs, bouncing her knee nervously as she stares at the empty court. She bites her bottom lip until she tastes metal, and then takes to toying with the rings on her finger. 

Today is a big deal. 

The match is nothing serious. Just some young, new player who was probably absolutely pissing themselves because they’re going against the Art Donaldson. But Art’s been…struggling. She doesn’t know what’s causing it, this slump he’s in. They’ve been operating the same way for the past few years, but suddenly, it seems like Art’s checked out. It bothers her to watch him just go through the motions, like a little worker bee with no thoughts or ambition of his own. Heaven can’t stand how uninterested he seems in everything. Tashi seems to think it’s a confidence issue, at least that what she tells Heaven as she rolls her eyes and scrolls through his dropping stats. Art’s mother thinks that he needs to take another break. 

Heaven doesn’t know what she thinks. What she does know, is that Art hasn’t been fucking winning. And when Art doesn’t win, none of them win. 

“Excuse me, miss?”

Heaven jolts from her thoughts, turning to look up at a brunette lady, her hair pulled back into a probably once neat bun, mussed from rushing around, working the event. She adjusts her headset and looks down at Heaven with a smile. “Hi, yes?”

“Team Donaldson wants to see you in their waiting room.”

2007 (California: UCLA Campus)

Art claps as loud as he can as Heaven and the rest of the cast takes their bow. He watches her curtsy deeply with a pretty smile on her face, her chest rising and falling with effort. As she allows the male lead to take her hand and guide her off the stage, her gaze falls to Art, and she fixes him a strange look. 

He knows he probably looks stupid. Art can almost feel how goofy the smile on his face is, but he can’t help it. 2 hours and 15 minutes. That’s how long he got to watch her. She came on and off of the stage but his eyes followed her the whole time. It felt like she was only on stage for 3 minutes. Time suspends while Heaven dances. Art watched her body contort, and her muscles stretch as she moved across the stage. He felt fucking privileged. Like he didn’t deserve that experience. He doesn’t know how Patrick and Tashi could pass up the opportunity to see her like this. The glow on her face as she tells a story with her form. 

Art is startled by a soft nudge to his side, turning to see Heaven’s stepfather giving him a knowing grin. The blond coughs, finally and fully shaking the trance he’d been in and giving the older man his attention. “She’s…she’s amazing.”

“Believe me, I know, my daughter is the brightest star.” Luca pats Art roughly on the arm, his strong hand a stark contrast from his kind smile. “It seems like you know that too.”

Art feels his face heat, eyes briefly darting back toward the stage. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And your friend, Patrick, does he know?”

If this was any other situation he’d cover for his best friend. Art would tell the older man that something happened. Make up some excuse, some lie as to why Patrick wasn’t here to support his girlfriend. But he didn’t have it in him. 

Why should he? Why should he talk his way out of something good? If Patrick actually knew what he had he’d be here. Tashi he can excuse, she’s recovering. But even then, Art can’t think of anything on God’s green earth right now that would have been able to keep him from watching her like this. Or even just the chance to spend time with her. 

"Heaven deserves...everything."

A few minutes pass before Heaven comes barrelling out, leaping into her stepfather’s arms like a little girl, her smile wide as she cuts their brief conversation about the other dancers Art missed while he was in his Heaven induced daze. The elder man grunts as he catches her, showering her in praise and presenting her with the Chanel gift bag before slipping into the conversation that her mother was unable to make it. 

Art enjoyed the warmth of the moment. He basks in the joy on her face, and the hum of jealousy at the fact that he’s not the one causing it is manageable, remaining at a low thrum in his chest. When she finally turns to address him, he straightens, determined not to sound like a fanboy meeting his celebrity crush. 

“Well?” Heaven cheeses up at him, clearly waiting for her ego to be stroked. She rocks on her feet, her hands clasped together behind her back. She’d loosened her hair out of the intricate style she’d performed with, but still stood before him in her final costume, looking like a princess who walked straight from a fairytale. 

“Well…I’m gonna empty my bank account to get tickets for every other night, so-”

“Then I’ll expect to see you there. I’ll put on a good show” She says softly, pushing onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Heaven brings her lips to Art’s ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Um,” Art’s voice cracks as he feels her press against him, not knowing how to embrace her in a way that wouldn’t give away the fact that she literally made him fall in love with her all over again moments before. He settles for rubbing her back, holding her a beat longer than what’s appropriate. He holds himself back from tightening his arms around her when she does pull away, opting to present her with the flowers he’d bought her instead. “I got you these. I  saw they gave you some when you were taking your bow but…these ones are from me.”

Heaven bites her bottom lip glancing behind him and then back into his eyes. “Thank you, Art.”

“Yeah. You were beautiful, Hev.”

Luca’s eyes narrow as he looks between his stepdaughter and the young man he’d watched sitting on the edge of the fabric theater seat the entirety of the performance. He’d expected to be joined by Heaven’s boyfriend tonight. He’d heard from Tashi that she still was not feeling well and his wife made it abundantly clear that until Heaven was part of a company that she deemed professional, she would not be making the effort to attend a performance. 

So when a young man came in looking like he was about to win the lottery, eyes glued to the stage before the performance even began, stars in his eyes and hands gripping the side of the seat, he thought this was him. The older man was relieved, really. He’d love for Heaven to be his baby forever. He’d never take for granted the day that he was taking his niece to the ballet to see Coppélia. She was briefly in town and he’d taken the night off work to take her out while his sister and brother-in-law got a break. He’d gotten the nicest seats in the house to show his niece a good time. 

What Luca hadn’t expected was for a beautiful woman to tap him on the shoulder, her adorable little girl dressed like the doll in the ballet peeking out from behind her leg. The woman had all but demanded that he and his niece trade places with her and her daughter, offering to pay him after pointing out that his niece was asleep and not paying attention anyway. 

He didn’t mind giving up the seat, in exchange for the beautiful woman’s number, and the bright smile on the little girl’s face. She was missing her front two teeth and was barely taller than her mother’s knee, but he watched them. He saw the little girl stare up at the dancers with wonder, sitting with her back straight, imitating their arm movements as the ballet went on. He watched her mother smile down at her, pointing out things the little girl might miss. It wasn’t long before he fell in love with the woman and her daughter, and soon, they were a family. 

But now, the little girl who used to ask her stepdaddy to twirl and lift her like the big girls he took her to see was on stage where she belonged. And there was a boy. A man. Here, mesmerized by her. He watched the love in the boy’s eyes in real time. 

The only problem was that he wasn’t him. He wasn’t the boy who was supposed to be here, on the edge of his seat, watching his little Stellina shine. No, he was a friend. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to be rooting for the boy in front of him when he hadn’t met the boyfriend. Maybe he owed him a chance to prove himself too. But one thing he and Beatrice had instilled in Heaven, trait that she and her Tashi share, is knowing you have to earn the things you want. Tonight is the first big night of many for Heaven. But, it was the first. She deserved support. As long as Luca was alive she would have it, but he’s not naive. He knows he won’t be enough anymore. And it all boils down to one thing. Art was here. Patrick was not. 

So, if he invited Art to dinner, it was because he’d earned a seat.

“I could have been a pro, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Utensils clang over the music and chatter of the restaurant Heaven and her dad had guided him to. Apparently, they went to it every time Mr. Whitlock visited Heaven at school. It’s an American Steakhouse and Brewery. Fancy enough that he couldn’t come in sweats, which Patrick would have hated. But not so fancy that they had to be all stiff and uncomfortable like at the restaurants his dad normally drags him to.

“Papino, please-” Heaven whines, dramatically dropping her head into her hands. 

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Art.” The older man waves his hand, dismissing his daughter playfully. Leaning in conspiratorially to Art. “My daughter is closed minded, but she is not the only athlete in our family. If my football career would have taken off-”

“You see!” She points, sitting up pointing at her father. “Football” she mocks with a thick italian accent. “Ask him where he was born, Art.”

“It’s not about the birth place!”

The blond chuckles at the exchange, enjoying the banter between father and daughter. He wishes he and his dad had this. Jokes. Familiarity. Heaven softens around him. He remembers what she looked like around her mom. Tense. Nervous. Insecure. And around everyone else, it was like she held herself apart. She stays where its safe, next to Tashi, in their own world, keeping everyone else out. Just the two of them plotting their world domination together. Art often found himself feeling jealous, like he was on the outside begging to be invited in. But right now she’s open. Showing him things he;d never gotten to see from her before. “Where are you from Mr. Whitlock.”

“Luca.” The older man corrects, taking a sip of his water. “And italy-”

Art feels a foot brush his leg under the table and whips his head to look at Heaven, willing his face not to turn pink and for his dick not to get hard as her lips mouth to him ‘New York’. 

“You see this? Arthur, when you have daughters, don’t spoil them, they’ll turn into brats, like my Heaven.”

“A brat? I’m not a spoiled brat. Art, am I spoiled?” she asks, leaning against his arm, fixing her big brown eyes at him. 

Art could fucking melt.

“Don’t bat your eyelashes at him and confuse the boy, here” Luca reaches over and musses his daughter’s hair, earning a laugh and a whine that he’d pay if he messed it up. “Answer now.”

“Hev…”

“Art, no.” She pouts.

“I’m not gonna lie to your dad, you’re a princess, Hev, it’s just what you are. Pretty girls like you tend to get what they want.” He jokes, pinching her cheek. Heaven swats his hand away and crosses her arms, mumbling about them ganging up on her.

“Sorry,” A voice calls from beside the table. It’s their waitress, carrying the desserts they’d ordered. “I didn’t want to interrupt, your chocolate mousse, sir.” The waitress places Luca’s plate down in front of him and he naturally sighs as his daughter’s eyes automatically shift away from it to her glorified fruit cup. He wishes she’d let herself indulge, but he knows from experience. Heaven will not bend. Her discipline will not break. Even as she eyes Art’s strawberry cheesecake, a snack that happens to be her favorite. 

The older man doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it’s certainly not what he sees. He watches the blond young man push the plate toward Heaven, and as he suspects, she pushes it back, the glass is pushed back and forth until the boy shrugs, placing his hands in his lap, as if declaring that if she didn’t have any, he wouldn’t either. Another thing his daughter hates. Waste. 

Heaven rolls her eyes, scooping a small piece of the creamy dessert onto her spoon and taking it into her mouth, causing the boy to grin with victory. Victory that is short lived and replaced with flushed embarrassment when she grabs his chin, taking a much larger scoop and pushing it into his mouth with the same spoon. Luca can’t help but join his daughter in laughing as the boy sputters trying to swallow the hunk she fed him. But he also can’t help but notice her bringing his water to his lips, rubbing his back and thanking him for a piece of his cake. The cake that he didn’t touch again, the grimace he’s hiding clearly revealing that he doesn’t like strawberry cheesecake and that his decision may not have been a coincidence after all. 

As they close out their meal, he thinks back on what he witnessed that night. Heaven’s beautiful dancing had definitely been the highlight. But as his daughter and the boy who had stars in his eyes as he looked at her spoke about everything and nothing he had a feeling that he was witnessing something even more rare.

And this would not be the last time he saw Art Donaldson.

“He likes you.” Heaven singsongs, strolling into the doorway as Art holds it open, following closely behind her. “My dad.”

“Thank God, I was worried about that.” Art breathes, letting her lead him to her dorm room door. 

When she reaches her unit Heaven turns, leaning against the door and looking up at the blond man in front of her. “Why? Pressure’s not on you, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.” Art just raises his eyebrows, nodding his head. “Too soon?”

“Uh, yeah,” he breathes, dropping his head slightly. “Pretty sure it’ll always be too soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He forces himself to ask her the question burning in his mind, looking at the floor. “Have you…have you heard from him?”

“No. But, I’m pretty sure I’m not the girlfriend he’s worried about losing.” She shrugs.

“He’s just…if…Patrick’s a fucking idiot, alright?” Art needs her to understand it’s not her. She’s not the problem. He would do anything for her to get the only issue is that Patrick isn’t right for her. He can’t handle her looking up at him with sad eyes like those. Her gorgeous rose petal lips should only ever be spread into a smile. Leaning his forehead to hers, Art lets his eyes slip closed in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna be a really shitty friend right now, so if you really don’t want to hear it, you should go in your dorm and I’ll drive back to school and kick myself for fucking up with you again.”

“Art, you promised-”

“You wouldn’t have to wonder if you were with me. I meant what I said. I’d be at every show, every rehearsal, fucking, I’ll sit in a room and watch you twirl for fun if you want me to. I want to make you happy.”

“Art, what do you want me to do?” she whines, literally stamping her foot on the carpet, still not moving, sharing his air. 

“Let me show you how good it could be.”

“You want to sleep with me-”

“I’m in love with you.” he sighs. “I’d do anything. Let me show you.”

“You should stop saying that.” Heaven says wearily, running her hand through blond curls. “I’m starting to believe you.” 

He sighs again, leaning into her hand and scanning her features intently, waiting and watching for a sign that this is going in his favor. He just wants to be with her. Take care of her. He’d be so good at it. She just has to let him try. 

And then a miracle happens. 

Art’s brain blows a fuse as he feels Heaven’s lips against his. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s tasted her. He wills himself to take it slow, but as her lips part for him he finds himself groaning and wrapping his arms around the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up against the door. Being with Heaven feels like being an addict getting a fix of their favorite drug. It’s euphoric. A high he can chase with all his might but the only thing that got him to true ecstasy what having her. 

He’s almost scared of what making love with her would do to his psyche. 

Patrick would call him a pussy for saying it that way. But that’s the only thing that he could conceive of calling what he was about to do. Or, the only thing he could say that would be applicable and not sacreligious. 

Heaven gasps as the cool air of her room hits her as she grips Art’s shoulders to keep her balance as he carries her in. The sound of her keys hitting the floor is drowned out by her attempts at breathing steadily and what could only be described as whimpers coming from Art as he bites and sucks at her skin. She hadn’t expected him to be the type to like to leave marks. But here the usually gentle man was, manhandling her onto her champagne, silk bed set, head buried in her neck like a fucking vampire, large hands switching between shoving up her shirt and tugging down her pants.

She scrambles to pull at his shirt, squeaking out the word, “Off.” as his lips encase one of her nipples. 

He listens immediately, reaching one hand back and whipping his own shirt off before kissing a wet trail down her body, kissing her hip bone, tucking a finger under her underwear. Art pauses then, waiting for confirmation that he could continue. He looks like a wounded puppy when Heaven sits up, legs effectively closing to him. 

The somber look is immediately traded for one of shock and then pleasure when she guides him to sit in the bed, and climbs into his lap, her hand unzipping his shorts and pushing into his boxers. “Fuck, Heaven-”

“I figure, I should thank you. For showing up for me today,” she whispers into his ears, relishing in the noises he makes as one of his hands grips the blanket below them and the other buries into her hair. “and any other day since I met you. I do appreciate you, Art. You matter to me.”

Art’s desperate, lifting his hips each time her hand moves up, leaning into her as she whispers in her ear. “I…fuck it feels so good.”

“Yeah? Do I make you feel good? Is that why you wanna be with me so bad, handsome?” she hums, squeezing the tip and trying not to react to his tightened grip when she does.

“I wanna be with you because I…fucking oh fuck, I fucking love you.” he breathes, chest rising and falling, his abs flexing with effort. “Fuck, let me see your face.”

“But I wanna keep talking to you.” Heaven says, letting her lips brush the skin of his ear. “You’re attracted to me, Arthur. You want to fuck me. That’s all. S’okay.”

Art’s eyes squeeze closed and he pulls her even closer to him. “No, I love you. Even if I can’t fuck you.”

“Really?” She twists her wrist and changes the pressure in her grip.

“Unh, fuck, no I love you, but I need to fuck you.” He whines.

 Art drags his hand from the back of her neck to cup her jaw, guiding Heaven to his lips. He kisses her deeply. She can’t describe it. But she feels it in her toes. She can feel the intensity. This wasn’t what she was used to. This kiss felt like something she’d never experienced before. It felt like begging. Like he was pleading with her to understand. He needed her to get what he means, what he feels. When he says anything he means anything. When he says he loves her he means it. 

And for the first time, even in her own mind, Heaven acknowledged that she wanted him to know she felt the same way. 

So when he pulls away to give her air, she chases his lips, capturing them again and getting another taste of the same intensity he’d given her before. “I really tried, you know. To stay away from you.” 

“Don’t stay away from me, I need you.” He breathes against her lips, his own dragging along them as they refuse to take any more space from each other. Art nudges her nose with his softly, dropping his hands to her waist. “Heaven, please.”

“What do you want me to do, Art?” Heaven asks, pulling him from his pants. Her eyes locked on him. He’s blurry in her swimming  vision, but she can see him build the courage to tell her what he needs from her, taking a deep breath.

“Tell me you love me too.” he says against her lips, holding her down against him, rocking her hips to set a pace with his hands. “Tell me, baby. Please.”

“I love you.” 

“Again.”

“I fuck I love you.”

“I love you. Again.” he groans, guiding her a little faster, sliding one hand down and tugging at her underwear again. This time she pushes up onto her knees, separated by his thighs, she helps him get the fabric off of her body as his gaze follows her upward, leaning his head back. 

“Arthur.” she says sternly, cupping his cheeks with her hands, “I mean it.”

Art and Heaven share a gasp as she sinks down on him, his strong, calloused hands grip soft, muscled thighs as they share two pecks before pushing their foreheads together, both peering down to where they’re joined together, the only sounds in the room are the slow creaking of the bed and the pants passed between the pair.

Heaven had never felt so close to someone before. She’d never felt this good. All she could think about was Art. Art’s hands on her, squeezing her, pushing her hair out of her face, pressing his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her eyes whenever they slip closed as she rises and falls above him. 

Art’s eyes, that drink her completely. The perfect mix of blue and brown, glossy and locked on her. He always demands her eyes. He’s made it clear he loves when she looks at him, but the way Art looks at her…it’s like he worships her. It’s like he’s worried if he blinks she’d be gone. He makes her feel the most beautiful she ever has.

He’s beautiful. It distracts Heaven to look at him, beneath her, yet somehow demonstrating his strength. Holding her up, guiding her movements with his strong arms, veins running up the muscles that hold her. All while offering her the prettiest slurred moans.

“Fuck, Heaven, you feel so good.”

“So good, squeezin’ me, you need me baby?”

“He didn’t fuck you like he loved you, no one can. Only me, gorgeous. No one can love you like I can.” 

“S’like I’m meant to be inside you.”

As Art’s thrusts grow harsher and deeper, they keep their slow pace. Heaven buries her head in his neck, letting him rock her as she cries into his skin. She feels the pressure building in her lower abdomen.

Art feels her tighten around him and suddenly he’s lucid. The squeeze pulls a cry from him before he’s turning his head to be in her ear. “You gonna cum, sweetheart?”

“Yeah” Heaven whimpers.

“Yeah? Fuck…I’m so glad, baby. Hold on okay?” He lifts her then, earning a squeal from Heaven as he rolls them so he’s above her, just barely hovering as he brackets her with his arms. Art leans down, placing his weight on her before pushing into her again, staring down at her face as she bites her lip, trying to silence her noises. “Please don’t. I fucking dream of those sounds, I wanna hear them. I earned them, I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, Art-”

“Fuck yes, baby, say my name.” He groans, dropping his head to her chest, pressing open mouthed kisses and littering hickeys along her breasts. “”Cum for me.” He pants against her damp skin.

Art has never heard anything more beautiful. He’d never felt anything fucking like it. In the few years he’s spent on this earth, he’d never experienced anything like feeling Heaven Whitlock cum around him. He almost feels sorry for the past version of himself that hadn’t been inside of her yet. If he had known…maybe it was best he didn’t know. He fell in love with her before any of this. Maybe that’s why it felt so good. Maybe it’s just Heaven. Maybe her parents knew what the fuck they were doing when they named her.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go back to being a person after this. How is he supposed to want to do anything else? He feels like a fucking junkie, worried about when he’d get his next fix. He needs to treat every kiss like it could be his last. Every touch. Every moan. Every thrust. He wants to live here. With her. In her. 

It’s not even over. Art’s still fucking her right now and he’s praying to God that she won’t leave again. She can’t take this from him. She can’t take herself away from him. Her pretty face, crying out for him. Looking at him. Loving him. That’s right baby, eyes on me.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby.” He whines, kissing her deeply as he feels her wrap her legs around him, pulling her closer. “Fuck…I’m-” Art starts to panick, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s almost over. Then she’ll go. She’ll make him go. He wants to be close. Together. He needs more. More time. Please-

“It’s okay, I…feel- I want you to cum, Art.” She presses the sweetest kiss to his nose, wiping dampness from underneath his eyes that he didn’t even realize was there. “I love you.”

It’s the most innocent thing in the world. A little peck on his nose. 

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

“I fucking love you.”

He basically fucking blacked out. She came again…with him. Art could die now, and he’d be fine.  Somewhere in his mind he feels like what they just did altered his life. He knew he wanted Heaven. He knew that when he first saw her. He knew he loved Heaven, he found that out when he saw her dance. But this intensity he feels…he’d do anything for her. Anything she asked. Anything to make her smile. If she’d just stay. 

And despite knowing her for only a couple of months, almost a year now, he knows exactly what she’s about to do. They’ve played this game before.

“So, um,” She clears her throat, rolling out from under him as he releases her, laying on his side and staring as she slips off of the silk sheets and reaches in her drawer, pulling out a white nightgown. Heaven wraps her arms around herself. Closing off. Covering up. “I’m…I’m on birth control so you don’t have to worry that you…”

“Came inside of you?” Art asks, a soft smile on his lips. 

Heaven straightens, eyes narrowing. “Yes. That. And now I have to go pee.” She turns to leave for the bathroom, only to feel a large hand encase her wrist, tugging her back toward the bed.

“Are you really going to pee?”

“Yes, where else would I go?”

He tilts his head, still holding onto her, running his thumb over the back of her hand before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “You have a tendency to run-”

“I don’t run.”

“Hev, baby, you run. When we get close. We were really close just now.”

Heaven sighs, rolling her eyes before climbing back onto the bed, swinging her leg over Art to straddle him again, this time pulling the fabric of the blanket between them. She intertwines their hands that are not already clasped together, and Art lifts his knees for her to rest her back on. “You scare me.”

The blond man stares up at his lover with a confused look. As she sits perched prettily on his lap he can see she’s being earnest. The anxiousness on her face makes his heart hurt. All he could think is that he’d rather hurt himself than hurt her. She has nothing to fear. But he lies quietly. Letting her playfully pin his hands down with her own, leaning down to his face. 

“I don’t get what you’re doing here.”

His brows furrow. “I’m earning you. Like you said.” 

“That game is way over-” Heaven giggles, rolling her eyes. “What happens if you get me and you figure out I’m not worth it.

“That’s not possible. We both know that, Hev. You’re everything. You’re perfect.”

She shakes her head at that, nuzzling his nose again. “Fucking tennis players, man. Toxic ass bunch.” Heaven huffs at herself, shaking her head. “Just can’t leave ‘em alone. You know, Tashi gave me her blessing to hook up with you? Told me to get you out of my system already.”

Oh. 

“Oh.” He steels himself, letting her weight above him be his anchor. He commits this feeling to memory. Just in case she’s about to say this was a fluke. In case this really didn’t mean what it meant to him to her. “Did it work?”

“I just told you I loved you and let you nut in me Arthur.” Heaven deadpans. 

“I know it was awesome.” He smiles goofily, lifting their joint hands and nudging her dimple with his knuckle. 

“Oh, was it awesome?” she mocks, leaning down and biting his cheek lightly, giggling as he finally stops indulging her and rolls her to lay in front of him, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I actually do need to pee.”

“You sure?” he mumbles against her cheek.

“U-T-I.” she hums, patting his head before pushing up, his arms allow her to move this time. Heaven smiles flirtily at him before slipping out of the door. 

Art lies back on her bed and smiles to himself. She’s right. She did say she loved him. He’s never felt more alive than he does right now. Everything about this felt so right and real. Things were how they should be. Art with Heaven. Heaven with Art. 

It was like he was high. Nothing could take it away from him. This moment was perfect. They were in love, and happy and nothing would pierce this bubble they’d created.

Except that damn buzzing.

Art tells himself he thought it could be his or her phone.

They’re both discarded on the floor. It could be anything. An emergency. With her parents. His. Tashi. Anything. 

He tells himself he didn’t even consider it could be Patrick texting her. And when his jaw clenches, and he runs his hands through his own hair hastily before opening the texts, he tells himself that he saw his best friend’s name and wanted to make sure he was okay. And that he showed great restraint when he chose to delete the message he sent Heaven, claiming to miss her and expressing the need to talk. He could’ve thrown the fucking thing against the wall. He could’ve sent the motherfucker a picture of himself in her bed. Instead he protected her feelings.

And sure. He felt guilty. There was definitely a weight on his chest as he placed the phone perfectly back on the floor where it was and climbed back on the bed. 

But Art can admit, it definitely got lighter when Heaven came tiptoeing back into the room, smiling at him, for him, lifting his arm so she could lay with her back to his chest. Twisting her body to kiss him and promising to talk to Tashi. 

And it for fucking sure went away when she bid him goodnight. “Goodnight…I love you.”

It’s time he and Patrick take some space anyway.

“I love you too.”

[paradlselost]

i am so glad im finding another person who writes for far cry :)) if possible, can we see a jacob seed x gn!deputy who replaces pratt as his prisoner? it ends with jacob being their one and only, (even if its dubcon)

WIND — UP TOY

jacob seed x gn!deputy

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ ty for being my first submission ! jacob and his region lowkey scare the shit out of me lmao 🙏 kinda a little fucked up but I mean it’s jacob seed . also sorry this took so long ); smut below the cut

no use of y/n , reader is referred to as ‘ deputy ’ . gender specific nicknames are replaced by ‘ pup ’ . not beta - read

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ blasphemy , deputy is treated like a dog , implied forced cannibalism , implied death of a minor character , brainwashing , jacobs his own warning isn’t he ? smut : dub - con , degrading , oral ( m receiving ) , soft - ish sex , penetration , dacryphillia , one - sided orgasm .

It always crept up on him when he least expected it; when things began to have a sense of normalcy. His days a haze and his nights clouded with gunfire and explosions, dreams marred with blood and the guts of former comrades and men who died far too young. For what?

What is the American dream when the world is going to end anyways? What are the soldiers overseas fighting for when the rivers will soon flow with blood and the ground tarred with ash?

His hand runs over his face; rubbing tired eyes. Demons of his past prey on him while he sleeps, turning him weak. Two to three hours is good enough for him, leaves him rested enough for his eyes to focus on the maps in front of him.

Being the leader of the army of Eden’s Gate wasn’t an easy job, though he held it with pride - a cardinal sin - but Joseph would forgive him as long as the prophecies his little brother had bouncing around his head came true. Jacob didn’t know if he believed in anything, really, it was hard to imagine God was with the soldiers that clutched cross pendants behind HESCO barriers.

But where he might’ve drifted from the true meaning of the cause further and further, where he might’ve argued the existence of a higher power with Joseph; one thing grounded him to his purpose and place in the cult. The Deputy.

Joseph’s ramblings were insane to the layman and gospel to the believer - but it seemed right now they were damn prophetic. Everything he said the Deputy would do; they did, and left bodies in their wake. Sometimes, he would watch whatever the cameras picked up of them on his screens, how they traversed the Whitetails with an almost practiced knowledge.

Sometimes, he felt like the eighteen year old new enlistee again when he watched them. The blood, the gunfire. Jacob Seed was a tough man, righteous and brave, but he would look down at them in their cage and feel the fire on his skin from the ranch he burned all those years ago.

He hated the feeling, wanting to drive his pocket knife into his chest and carve out every semblance of memory he had. But then his music box would rewind, and he would hear the sweet sound of the Platters crooning through the wood and metal and maybe, just maybe, things would be okay for him.

So he watched the way the Deputy writhe behind those thick steel bars against the cold soil, not afforded the luxuries even the most depraved prisoners received. Weak and idiotic for attempting to save their friend; but a mind that could be molded with the right tune.

Staci Pratt was a good pet; Pavlovian in nature and willing to do anything for the oldest Seed brother, so maybe that’s why Jacob began to grow bored of the man. Maybe that’s why he entertained the cracks beginning to show in the conditioning, how Pratt’s eyes softened at the sight of their co-worker being taunted by the Herald and yet knowing there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

An escape plan, of course he knew about it, he had eyes and ears everywhere and could always tell when one of his dogs stepped out of line. A perfectly timed truck, the siren going off to alert that a prisoner had escaped, catching Pratt as he allowed the Deputy to leave without him. It was almost sweet, but moreover vomit-inducing, like a lamb.

Sheep are creatures controlled by their own nature, that’s why dogs have to herd them back into formation - like a general in charge of new recruits. Intolerables are discharged, lambs are taken to the slaughterhouse. Nature, the circle of life, the bad meat is thrown out for the poor and needy to pick through.

“Eat. You wouldn’t want to fall sick, would you?”

A tin was placed in front of the Deputy, they had been through this before. Starved for however many days Jacob deemed necessary - usually ten - before they are given nothing but raw meat to eat. Never did they think they would yearn for the peanuts and beer served at the Spread Eagle, but there was no position to argue about what they were being given here.

Some fell over the side as greedy hands shoveled clump after clump into their mouth, covering it in a pitiful yet successful attempt to keep it down. Never did they ask what kind of meat it was, choosing to instead assume it was from one of the many cow farms in the valley.

“You’re hungry, aren’t ya, pup? You’re lucky, that’s a nice cut of meat.” A grin played on his face as he leaned against the metal bars, fingers grazing over his music box. There wouldn’t be any culling today, no, he had a much better idea in mind.

“Where’s Pratt?”

“Not even a thank you for my generosity, aren’t you fierce?”

“Where is he?”

“Peaches’s little act of rebellion earned him a punishment, I mean; that’s only fair. In a war like this you can’t go sympathizing with the devil, no matter how well you knew them before.”

It’s not an answer, but there’s an unspoken understanding that that is the closest thing the Deputy will get to knowing. A huff falling from their lips, ever the ungrateful dog; but their bowl is licked clean and what more can Jacob ask for?

A soft tsk fell from his lips, cold and condescending because how could he be anything but? Did the thing below him deserve care and kindness? Maybe at some point when they were strong, when their mind was still their own, but now they were nothing but a lamb being fattened for the slaughter.

His fingers grasped their chin, forcing eye contact and no doubt leaving marks that would form bruises. How much had they been through? Chest slashed with the markings from Jacobs little brother and mind already foggy from the bliss that grew in the Henbane; but there was a certain pride he took in being the one to break them.

How much time had passed? Had anyone come looking for them? Jacob had often taunted them, used the fact that they were immobile against the conditioning he had given them to contact anyone. The rebellion would fall without their snake, maybe it already had, how would the Deputy know?

It wasn’t their place to think anymore, to simply let the oldest Herald put a leash around their neck and sit beside like a good dog. Their mind wasn’t their own, now it belonged to him and they had no room to complain.

“Look at’chu, open your mouth.” But he didn’t wait for them to comply, instead he bullied his fingers against their tongue, exploring over their gums and teeth. They could bite him, certainly, but they didn’t - wouldn’t.

Who was Jacob Seed but their owner? He had saved them from themselves, from the blood and the gore and the fire that threatened to burn the world to nothing but ashes. Joseph had greeted them in their new form, John had shown up to pout, but their eyes only ever stayed on the eldest.

“Such a good pup, ‘ did a wonderful job training you, huh?” He asked as if they could answer, as if they weren’t preoccupied by the fingers that traced their mouth like he was mapping them out.

A hum passed from his lips as he removed his fingers, instead moving to undo the buckle on his belt. Even in this state, the Deputy wasn’t stupid and could very clearly tell what was coming next. So, to hopefully avoid any wrath from him, moved to help undo his pants.

Leaning back in his chair and observing as they removed his pants, fingers trailing over the growing bulge in his boxers. Jacob was a stoic man, never did the Deputy know if they were really doing good, but he didn’t scold them so there was no stopping.

Hands smoothed out the black fabric a bit nervously, playing with the hem for a moment before a soft grunt from the Herald alerted them. Knowingly, their fingers hooked underneath the waistband and pulled it away from his freckled skin, letting it pool at his ankles along with his pants.

Wrapping around the base of his still hardening cock, their eyes fluttered up to meet his gray ones. A silent beg, a plea that they were doing alright and there would be no punishment later. All they got in return was a small nod; though there was no love or care behind it. More like a drill sergeant instructing a particularly moldable soldier.

Gentle, unsure licks placed against his tip, hand working against the base; fingers brushing against veins that worked overtime to pump blood to his dick. Jacob Seed was not one for taking his sweet time, his fingers tangled in their hair as he pushed their head down on his aching cock.

A soft gag fell from their lips, hands moving from him to settle on his toned thighs. A heavy breath leaving their nose as they tried their hardest to relax, nuzzling against his untamed ginger hair. He relished in the warmth of their throat, the tightness eliciting a groan as he pushed his hips up.

Their gagging was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, the soft whimpers and tears that emitted from the Deputy as they tried their hardest to just breathe through their nose. He loved the power he held over them, how those pretty tears fell for him.

“Cmon pup, look up at me.”

Fighting between lifting their head to meet his gaze and keeping their mouth wrapped around his cock, the Deputy managed to tilt their head up enough to see him. His smirk widened, cock throbbing against their throat as he watched the tears continue to fall from them.

Another few thrusts to the back of their throat before he groaned, pulling their head off his dick with a small ‘pop’. A trail of saliva still connected their lips, pre-cum mixed in with it. He couldn’t help the laugh that emitted from him at the sight of their swollen lips and heavy breathing.

“Poor thing. Don’t cry, I take care of you, don’t I?”

The Deputy couldn’t do anything but nod, and maybe it was a bit true. Jacob did care for them in his own sick and twisted way. In the back of their mind they wondered if this was how he treated Pratt behind close doors; more like a prized trophy than a lover.

His hands grabbed at their hips, pulling them onto his lap. The small barrier of whatever clothes they had been wearing on their lower half before was quickly removed, giving him access to everything he wanted.

Burying their face into the crook of his neck and wrapping arms around the back of him, the Herald lifted their hips once more to guide himself inside their needy hole before pushing them down onto him. Stretching, pain emanating from the sudden intrusion, he could feel the tears that fell from them and landed against his skin.

He cooed, a grin still wide on his face. His hands still settled on their hips, guiding them up and down on his cock. Gentle movements at first that quickly devolved to an almost feral extent. His pre-cum marred the inside of their hole, creating wet and sticky sounds everytime he fucked in and out of them.

It felt like a dam was about to break by the time Jacob decided he was finished. Loud sobs wracked their body as they cuddled closer to him, so close yet so far. His hips continued to move for a moment; stuttering and shifting a bit before he released inside of them, filling them with his cum.

The Deputy finally leaned back after a moment, tears still flowing from their now red eyes, sniffling - but they still attempted to move their hips over him. To get any kind of release as the Herald caught his breath. Needily grinding against his lap, hands clutching his shirt in a pitiful attempt that only made him laugh more.

“Oh, look at’chu. Pup needs to get off too, huh? Don’t worry, I told you I’ll take care of you.”

[pochipop]

＃OVERWATCH !! ♡ — COMING BACK HOME TO YOU.

#. synopsis! — how they greet you after being gone for a bit .

#. characters! — pharah, moira, tracer, sombra, ashe .

#. warnings! — none .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw), @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

＃ PHARAH (FAREEHA) !! ♡

In spite of the soreness and the body aches from parading around in her heavy armor for the last few weeks, Fareeha’s face lights up with a smile the moment she sets her eyes on you. All those restless nights on duty simmer out to a distant memory now that she’s seen your face again. She doesn’t care who's around to see as she pulls you in, hugging you tightly, —almost crushingly (in a good way.) You bury your face in her chest, taking in her scent and her body’s natural warmth. In the embrace, she revels in your presence, allowing herself the time to reacclimate to your affection in lieu of the harsher conditions of battle. Though she’s trained long and hard to be the top-notch soldier that she is now, it’s hard to deny the downsides of her job now that she has someone waiting for her back home. The drawbacks aren’t enough to keep her on the ground forever, at least not right now, but one day she knows there’ll be a time when she returns, and it will be the last. The frontlines won’t call her name any longer. . . But you will. And you’ll let her hold you all the same. She leans in to kiss you, cradling your cheeks in her calloused hands, mumbling how much she’s missed you against your lips, and in a rare lack of stubbornness, she won’t argue when you tell her she should go and get some much-needed rest.

＃ MOIRA !! ♡

Moira doesn’t like to be fussed over, but she’s not beyond affection. Not in private, at least. Upon her return, she’ll take her time tying up any loose ends from the mission, walking through the labs on three hours of sleep at most, but her mind still sharp as ever. It’s incredible, really, the force that woman is even on the worst of days. She’ll make you wait until her work-related tasks have all been handled appropriately, —and then she’ll finally turn her attention to her sweet, lovesick angel who’s been waiting so long for her arrival. When she does, it’s almost like the weight of the world falls away, both from your shoulders and her own. She may not show it outwardly, but you can tell by the way her body loses the majority of its tension that she’s relieved, at least in part, to be home with you. The intensity of her focus is always the same, whether it falls on one of her experiments, or on you, —the one who waits so patiently for her to come back. There’s a warmth in her eyes when she looks at you that she seldom shows with others, and it leaves you weak in the knees. Although Moira isn’t keen on the over-the-top reunion sort of greeting, she’ll welcome you into her arms once the two of you are alone, and she’ll have no problem kissing you deeply, if only to remind you that she truly does love you, even if saying it isn’t her strongest suit.

＃ TRACER (LENA) !! ♡

Lena doesn’t waste a single moment from the second her two feet hit the ground. Any thoughts of a relaxing cup of warm tea or a hot shower to soothe the lingering aches are drowned out entirely by her tunnel visioned desire to see and hold you as soon as humanly possible. She’s been thinking of you the entire time, especially so since she began the journey back home, every inch of her just thrumming with excitement. The instant she sees your face, she meets your gaze with a wide, happy smile and dashes over, arms wide open to wrap them around your frame. She showers your face in a cascade of peppered kisses, hoping they might get her point across better than murmuring “I missed you” a thousand times over ever could. You giggle at the display, and she keens at the sound, —it’s like a long overdue melody that soothes all the bruises littering her skin. It’s all too easy to get lost in the togetherness, and Lena practically melts at the feeling your lips pressed against her own in an ardent kiss. Sure, she loves her job. She loves helping people, loves saving the day, —loves being a hero for those who need it. But at the end of all things, she knows the fulfillment of going on missions will fade one day, and when she’s left only with the bliss of savoring your lips on hers. . . Well, she thinks she’ll be just fine.

＃ SOMBRA (OLIVIA) !! ♡

For all the things she is, Olivia has never been particularly sentimental. She plays life fast and loose, taking risks that no one else will, —and sometimes it’s just for the sake of it. Still, she comes back and it’s like she left a little part of herself in your hands the entire time, hoping you’d keep it safe and secure. Though she teases you for tearing up or openly admitting that you missed her, there’s always an unspoken admission that she feels the same way, even if she’s a little too proud to say it. She isn’t too proud, however, to hold you close, —tightly enough to convey all the feelings she bottles up to keep herself from looking like a fool, stumbling over pathetic attempts at confessions of love. It’s easier this way, when you take her playful ribbings for what they are: a love language within themselves. It’s easier when she doesn’t have to bare her soul and strip herself apart for you to believe that she cares. She’ll jest with you about how smitten you are, never losing that nonchalant facade; but in between the lines is a warmth unlike any other. A love like hers really seems to transcend the need for explicit declarations of infatuation, so even when she doesn’t lay overt affection on thick enough for you to drown in, you never doubt that you’ll always be the first to know when she arrives back home.

＃ ASHE !! ♡

When she’s certain that all of her ducks are in a row, Ashe doesn’t mind letting you fawn over her a bit behind closed doors. If you were anyone else, she’d be halfway to biting your head off the moment you smooth your hands over her shoulders, asking if she’s hurt, —if things went well, if she needs anything from you now that she’s back. . . But you aren’t just anyone, and she’s begrudgingly accepted how much she cares for you, even on her worst days. She never goes into much detail about what happens while she’s away. That’s for her to know and you to stop thinking about, but she’ll offer little tidbits every now and again, and she’ll talk to you in that smooth, southern accent that drips just like molasses until she grows tired of the monotony of conversation and shuts you up with her mouth on yours. Words become obsolete, and the warmth of her lips speaks volumes that even prose never could. The unspoken parts of her endeavors might remain locked away, but the sweetness of her affection is an open book. As far as she’s concerned, letting you sit on her lap is proof enough that she’s just fine, and you’ll get the hint sooner or later. You’re a clever one, after all. Above all else, Ashe isn’t keen on living in the past. When things happen, the pieces fall where they may, and she’s long since decided that it’s better to just move forward, closure or not. Needless to say, she’s found that a little make out session never hurts to push the progress onward in that regard, so you can keep her company for a bit before she returns to her typical position, and she’s always sure to make it worth your while.

[cookie-crumblr]

What would happen if Darling showed a little jealousy towards the girls who flirt with Ezra?

Oh my goodness! i am so sorry covid kicked my butt and i’m still not better lol, but anonie ily, idk if you’re the same nonnie that’s been sending all or at least most of the ezra asks, but i am working on them all!!! i promise i just haven’t even touched this app in DAYS. T.T

anyway, Minors DNI as always 🥰 plz and ty

CW: GN/READER, no body or genitalia descriptions for reader (other than hole lol), kissing, biting, sex in whatever hole you have luv u bb, creampie, indecent exposure, public sex, ditching the body type beat

Status: Not Dating (but close to it)

You stab your pencil into the knot in the wood of your table. It’s so hard to listen to your professor next to Ezra. Today’s a little different though…

“Ezraaaaa~” a gorgeous peer touches his arm, and fawns over him. He’s watching you with some weirdly satisfied expression on his face. You roll your eyes at him. He chuckles back and your brows furrow ferociously. What? did he just— “When are you gonna come back over? we’re having a party this weekend…”

Now a few guys are walking up and one of them pushes another forward, He sputters for a sec before speaking up “H-hey Ezra! um, wanna go out this weekend again?”

“Oh my gods, can I please just focus!? leave him alone! the professor is literally speaking!” The pencil snaps, half of it stuck graphite first in that same wooden knot. It’s been ground a little deeper than it was earlier.

“Ew. You can always—” The gorgeous one starts, before Ezra cuts her off.

“Nah they’re right. This is boring as shit.” He leans over to your ear, “‘sides, I like you mad,” He’s wearing a beaming grin as he pulls back.

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you outside, the professor doesn’t spare either of you a glance.

As soon as you’re out in the hallway, his raw strength is forcefully slamming you into the lockers, rattling the metal doors.

“Ezra??” You never see him this passionate or nice? Sure he’s still rough, but he isn’t hurting you.

He lifts your legs and wraps them around his waist. “Owch,” One of the latches is digging in your back, you laugh a little “sorry, my back”

He moves you both down an inch or two, his lips crashing onto yours before he pulls away to take in the sight of you.

“Why do you make me feel this way…?” It’s like he didn’t mean to say that… You feel like you’ve seen something you almost… Shouldn’t have? You look down and away. “No. Look at me.” He pulls you back roughly with his hand on your jaw.

“Fuck, Ezra…. I don’t know… Maybe you shouldn’t” You choose your next words as carefully as you can. “have been so mean. Prolly feelin guilty or somethin’”

“That too.” His lips assault your neck now, teeth biting and air puffing against you. Your body is a whirlwind of sensation.

“too?”

He either doesn’t hear you or just doesn’t answer.

Your arms are locked around his neck but your fingers tingle with yearning. Youdecide to trust him with your weight and let go in favor of tracing his muscled arms. You both sigh into eachother. The Ozone and forest scent of him comes through and fill your senses once again.

Even the smell of smoke is starting to welcome you back. You don’t let yourself think twice. You deserve some feel good sex after everything he’s done to you. He owes you. “Yeah.”

“What?” He pulls back with glistening lips to inspect you his expression quizzical but still smiling.

“You owe me. a lot. actually.”

“Oh? hah! fine whatever. now open up.”

You push your crotch against his bulge harder, “I have been, just waiting for you.”

“Fuck, good” He pats your head affectionately. His hand falls down your face almost… Lovingly.

You try and shove those fluttery feelings down. This is Ezra after all.

Once inside he’s bouncing you desperately on his thick pulsing cock. His hands are wrapped around your throat getting you so close to blacking out it hurts. You try to tap out but he continues pounding furiously into you.

You deliciously sloppy hole stretches around his width perfectly. His grunts fill your fading and popping hearing.

“F-f-ff” you can’t speak at all. Finally you feel him shuddering and filling you with his thick streaming cum.

He drops you.

You slump unceremoniously down onto the smooth waxed floor. Cum leaks out of your still exposed hole.

You have to catch your breath, and while you are indisposed you see the flash of Ezra’s phone camera. Then he leaves you there. His walk a satisfied swagger down the hall away from the classroom and toward the front doors.

Asshole.

[starsurface]

Haii me again, idk if your okay with people requesting more than once but if your not then just ignore this. But I was wondering if you could make some like baby regressor!smoke(specifically mk1) headcanons please and ty? -🐯

I love request!!! Make as many as you want!!! :D

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Babyspace Regressor Tomas Vrbada Hcs

💨 I can see Tomas regressing from about 1-4, and a puppy regressor

💨 But rn we're going to focus on his baby headspace

💨 Either he gets this small after a long day of work and training, or because of flashbacks and nightmares

💨 Unfortunately, when it is because of flashbacks or nightmares, he'll start quietly sobbing in either his bed or his little hiding place

💨 Normally he's mastered the skill of staying silent while crying, but when his brain feels all fuzzy, he can't help but sob loudly

💨 Whether it's you or Kuai Liang, someone will eventually find him and the rest of the day is extremely soft and comforting

💨 Clingy cuddles, soft voices, small promises, his grip on your finger is so tight it feels like it's gonna break (lovingly, of course)

💨 When he doesn't slip because of bad bad memories or thoughts, he's actually a very giggly happy baby

💨 Happily waving whatever toys he owns, excitedly showing them to you so you can see!!

💨 A biter, you better watch for your fingers

💨 Would be overjoyed if you got him or of those teething baby rings

💨 Wiggles them in your face before using it, just so that you know he's using it :]

💨 ^ If he's having a bad bad baby time, he'll want his paci though so he can focus more on breathing

💨 Tomas feels like a very soft regressor, especially when he feels little little

💨 He doesn't like being yelled at or having any type of stern voices, especially when he's just a baby

💨 He'll look at you all confused and maybe even a little scared, why are you yelling at him? He doesn't understand, had he been naughty? 🥺

💨 You've gotta use really gentle parenting when he's this small

💨 He's not prone to getting in trouble, but sometimes the crayon he was using will drift onto the floor (not his fault, he just wanted to color with Kuai Liang!!)

💨 Back into teething, anything in his hands will end up in his mouth

💨 This is fine if it's a stuffie or his own fingers, because he doesn't bite extremely hard (if he does it's an accident and he'll try to babble apologize, especially if it was your hand)

💨 But if it's a crayon or something dangerous, you gotta make sure his face and hands don't get close together

💨 A copier, if someone's doing something, he'll try to intimidate it

💨 (^ Like those babies that when they see their Dad's flex and yell, they'll put their arms out and shout)

💨 But like, if Kuai Liang is coloring, Tomas wants to color (he just kinda makes two really weird circles on the paper and shows you it proudly, coloring hard man, you gotta keep the crayon straight up :(

💨 Or if Bi-Han pouting, Tomas will cross his arms and pout too (which will only prompt Bi-Han to get even fussier and claim Tomas is copying him on purpose)

💨 Adores soft textures, especially blankies or stuffies

💨 Has a blankie that he carries around but also kinda expects you to carry it (he's a baby, how is he supposed to hold it up? >:(

💨 A crawler, but a silent one

💨 Will crawl away because he saw something pretty across the room and you might not even notice

💨 Don't worry, he'll excitedly wave you over and babble about this cool thing he found! (If it's dangerous please take it away, even if he whines and fusses over it)

💨 It's very easy to make gim happy if he gets fussy, he's a baby with very simple needs

💨 (^ Most of those needs are just cuddles and your undying attention, although candy wouldn't hurt either)

💨 Really likes using baby bottles and the one (and only) time Bi-Han even tried to tease him over it, he cried for two hours straight

💨 (^ Bi-Han apologized btw, he can be really mean sometimes but he won't go as far as to make fun of his brother's comfort items) (especially when he has his own, but that's a topic for another day)

💨 The most people who watch him when he's this tiny is probably Kuai Liang (Bi-Han will too, but he doesn't wanna be mean by accident, and he knows his brother's really fragile in this specific headspace)

💨 (^ Smokencage shipper, Johnny and Kenshi absolutely adore this headspace but have only really seen it once and Tomas really just kinda hide in Kuai Liang's neck the entire time, he felt shy)

💨 Favorite little nicknames are Smokey, Sweetie, Baby Boy, Little Guy, Squirt

💨 Oh my gosh please swaddle him!!! His blankies big enough, please? 🥺

💨 He's a pretty big guy, being 6’ something, but he forgets a lot when he's this tiny

💨 So you might have him plop onto your lap and start cuddling up to you (like those big lap dogs)

💨 Is usually a really wiggly and giggly when he's feeling happier

💨 Whether it's tummy time and he gets to lay on his tummy and wiggle like a worm

💨 Or giggle because you keep hiding under the blankie and playing peek-a-boo with him

💨 But after hard, long, stressful days, he can be a very sleepy baby

💨 Bedtime is super easy, just bottle feed him and cocoon wrap him and he'll be out like a light, very little argument when it comes to naptime

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Stop, he's actually one of my favorites <3

Y'all his hair so so shiny in MK9, it's funny

[transmalewife]

so back in my overanalizing pretentious fuck days I vaguely remember wanting to write a meta about the madonna whore complex in star wars costume. and while I still think theres a lot to work with there,

(like, a lot)

I'm just gonna focus on padme right now, specifically Padme's hair because something really interesting just hit me.

look at this for a moment

this is the most virginal imagery imaginable.

let's get the obvious out of the way and say the blue dress and shawl are almost on the nose references to the virgin mary (maybe a hint at luke being the real chosen one?). But more importantly, in so many cultures around the world, loose long hair, especially combined with flowers, is associated with young girls. there are countless traditions that dictate that women, once they get married or come of age, should wear their hair up, covered or short.

(this might be a good moment to disclaimer that I am very transgendered and irreligious and none of this analysis is coming from a tradwife mindset. it's coming from a 'this is the archetypes that exist in our culture being very clearly and skillfully referenced here')

her dress is made to look like flowing water, carrying flowers. in slavic cultures, on the summer solstice, young women would make flower crowns and throw them into rivers, so potential suitors could fish them out downstream and court them. They would also wear flowers in their hair on their wedding day, and after that, they would cover it with a kerchief. and those traditions still live on in some form in europe today. most girls in my class got their hair cut short after first communion. women still throw bouquets on their wedding day.

There are in universe explanations I could invent here, from the easy 'this is just naboo funeral tradition' to the political "they wanted to distance her from the secret marriage to spare her family the shame of the scandal" but i'm frankly not about all that. and now that i've noticed this, I can't ignore it. all throughout rots padme is shown with her hair down (partialy. will come back to that), and wearing long gowns and hoods. The virgin mary imagery remains in the cut of the velvet hooded gown, in the blue drape of her nightgown when she cries on the balcony, and the, also baby blue, nightgown she wears when anakin has his nightmare literally looks like 1950s sexy lingerie.

(Also, a note here that I'm not willing to let spiral into a tangent, is that she almost always, and iirc, only, wears blue when she's either on tatooine, or when it's just her and Anakin. And then in her coffin.)

We know, from lucas, from the costume designer and art director, of two costumes that were purposely designed to make her look sexy, romantic, seductive. The corset in the fireplace scene and the iconic lake house balcony dress.

That makes sense. Those are the scenes where she's falling in love with Anakin, but the corset is extremely restrictive both visually, (and physically, according to natalie portman.) She's wearing metal bands around her head, the scarf looks like a noose and prison bars at the same time, and her hair is pinned up tighter and closer that in any other costume (except maybe on mustafar). She's not allowed the freedom to live in the fantasy of their forbidden love. She's imprisoned in the conventions of her station, quite literally trapped by her clothing.

And while the lake dress does look very free and loose and open, which is what she's tying to let herself be, flirty even, her hair is still quite literally behind bars, (and that type of headwear repeats in many of her costumes) as are her neck and arms.

Worth mentioning that in the floral picnic dress, her hair, while the shape is quite obviously meant to reference Leia's buns, is still held neatly in place by hairnets. This isn't the typical imagery of a young woman enjoying her freedom, frolicking in fields of flowers for the last time before she puts her hair up and grows up.

Padme didn't get to grow up, because she was never a child. In tpm her costumes are heavy, royal, extravagant. they not only hide her hair, but her face and body as well. Because she doesn't really matter. The costume, the crown, her duty matters more than the child underneath. There's quite literally six more of her. (Leia goes through something similar, in that she only ever gets to let her hair down after a battle is won)

Thinking of the costumes in tcw for too long makes my blood boil so i won't linger too long, but the moment Padme takes off her wig to reveal long flowing hair underneath, implying that the short bob she wore for much of the show is also a wig, is incredibly important here. This is a girl who finally got one thing for herself. She got her summer fling turned secret marriage, the first thing in her life that isn't controlled by appearances. and the mask is starting to slip. she wants the freedom, she wants the dreamlike lakeside romance back. she's wearing a middle aged mom wig over her childish waist long curls.

The traditional, deeply ingrained in so many cultures in the world narrative of young girl with flowers in her loose hair, then braids, then cut short and/or covered with a scarf is entirely flipped here. We're introduced to her when she's barely a teenager, but already wearing the elaborate, heavy headgear of a medieval queen. Even when she's "undercover" as a handmaiden on Tatooine, her hair is up in tight, elaborate braids.

There are a lot of obvious east asian influences in her royal costumes, bordering on appropriation in some cases (like, frankly, the entirety of star wars) which I would not feel comfortable ignoring, but don't have nearly enough knowledge about them to properly explore their meaning and symbolism.

In aotc, she's 24, she's no longer a queen, but even when she's trying to act and look young, her hair is still pinned tightly up. Her gowns on coruscant are still elaborate and restrictive, but we start seeing her in more intimate situations, at home on Naboo, by the lake. (And she spends a good chunk of the last two movies in her pajamas)

I had originally written "she can quite literally only let her hair down around anakin" here, but on second thought, no. Not really. In the scenes I was thinking of, the scenes she's in a nightgown, her hair is loose and long, yes, but always in a half up half down situation. Even in her simplest nightgown, in the first ever pajama scene, the one in her apartment in aotc, a basic white chemise, without any of the capes and tiaras and lace we see on her other sleepwear, her hair is still pinned up.

She's at her most vulnerable, sleeping, literally acting as bait for an assasin, without any of her senatorial regalia to protect her, but her hair remains controled. (I could say something here about that being the scene where Anakin barges into her bed waving his lightsaber, but lets just keep things tasteful and move on.)

In rots is where we first see her hair actually loose for the first time, though it's still covered by the hood of the velvet gown. Her costumes become simpler, less decorative, to create a cohesive image with the entire galaxy becoming more drab and colorless as the war goes on, heading towards the fully grey hellscape of the original trilogy. And we see padme specifically in more intimate, personal situations, most of her screentime is at her home. She's growing up into her housewife role, but for her that means freedom. For her that means letting her hair down and sinking into the fantasy of running away to Naboo with Anakin and raising their 2.5 kids. But the first, and only time we truly see her with her hair fully loose and uncovered, is at her funeral.

another thing unworthy of a whole tangent here, is that corde dies with her hair falling apart, out of her updo. All the senatorial power that the costumes and the headdresses afford dissolves in death.

I could note here also that this is a weird way to emphasize the tragedy of a 27 year old woman dying in childbirth by associating her with youth. this is tragic regardless. the tragedy here is she never got to have that stage of her life. she never got to grow up, to be a mother. She remains, in anakin's memories, the 14 year old angel, the 24 year old rolling in the grass like a teenager, or rushing alongside him into battle without fear, and the wife in her sexy nightie waiting for him to come back from the war. In the galaxy's eyes however, she will always have been the strong queen, and the tragic martyr, taken before her time. Not a child soldier and a woman who died because she broke the rules and dared to fall in love.

Padme never gets the freedom of childhood. She only gets to let her hair down in death. Did she want it? Is it Naboo releasing her from her responsibility posthumously, or is is another denial of her freedom. She was a ruler when she should have been a girl, and she dies a child when she was ready to grow up.

[thetorturerwrites]

Lylas

Summ: Adam Sackler was never one for beating around the bush, but this level of blunt was beyond comprehension - even for him.

Notes: Purely self-indulgent filth. There will probably be other parts to this because I cannot get it out of my head, but I have no set time frame for it. Also, I do not apologize for the extraneous world-building in my smut. That's just how I roll... (Also also, some of this might be in response to the fact that not everything has to be squirting...)

~

“You should let me fuck you.”

The cavalier way he said such a bizarre thing made you short circuit. Astonished, you stopped mid-shoelace-tie and stared up at him. Adam Sackler was never one for beating around the bush, but this level of blunt was beyond comprehension - even for him.

“What?! Why?”

He grinned down at you because, with you right there on the ottoman, you sat eye level with his dick. With that cheshire grin turned on you, you unexpectedly forgot how to breathe. You’d never looked at Adam that way before, but with one question, he upended your world view. Adam was lethally beautiful, and he knew it. Shaggy black hair swept back and forth over his dark eyes to match his moods - off to the right for mischievous, low over the brow for brooding. It was easy to admit he was a looker, but you’d never considered him to be anything beyond that. A big, glaring red flag permanently hung over his head since the day he walked into your house. Now, though…

He certainly watched, and enjoyed, the struggle going on in your mind and not-so-casually slid both hands smoothly, purposefully into the pockets of those well-worn, low slung, faded blue jeans and leaned his hips forward at you. Of course you looked. Who wouldn’t? Catching yourself, you forced your eyes up to his green t-shirt, but that wasn’t much help because it fit him offensively well. Painted on would be an understatement. Adam was all wide shoulders and shelf-like pecs, and suddenly, you understood his sex appeal. Forcing your face into a placid mask, you waved him off and bent to finish tying your damn shoe. Time to get the fuck out of this room.

You forgot, however, that you’d asked him a question.

“One, you bring home shitty dudes. Two, I don’t want to date. After that last bullshit…”

The last bullshit being the most recent round of Hannah and Jessa, both idiot girls who ran roughshod over Adam and his tender heart. On more than one occasion, you’d seen fit to murder one right after the other, but nobody could tell Adam anything. He was a right pain in the ass and a whole pervert, but he was also kind and doting, a thing those two heifers took advantage of too often. He was also stubborn to a fault, and when he believed a thing, or when he wanted something, he would pursue it 100%. He’d believed in them, but even he had to admit they were trash in the end.

“... this would be the perfect solution.” You realized he’d not stopped talking while you took that mental break, and you struggled to focus. “One stop shop.”

Shoe finally situated, you stood, pretending not to be acutely aware of the way he watched you smooth the wrinkles from your plum blouse and rub the wrinkles out of the thighs of your pants. Masquerading as confident, you jabbed at the air between you.

“First? Rude.” Although, internally you admitted you brought home shitty dudes. They never seemed shitty until they walked out the door, leaving you unsatisfied and annoyed. All dudes were shitty, though, weren’t they? There was no earthly reason to believe Adam was any better despite how much he believed himself superior.

“Second? Jim and Carly would shit kittens.”

Jim and Carly were your parents - his mom and your dad, specifically. They met in Tahoe on a Friday and were married by the following Sunday. Secretly, you believed Carly was in it for the money because Jim was - no two ways about it - loaded, but she genuinely seemed to love your dad. After all the heartache he’d endured, you found you couldn’t begrudge him that happiness, even if it made your teeth itch. In a blur, the Sacklers moved into Jim’s mansion on the hill, filling it with more noise than either of you could remember. With internships, college, and the damn economy, it made sense for everyone to live at home; so, you all had to learn to live together.

Well, sort of. Jim and Carly never stayed home long enough to get used to anybody, really. Jetsetters, they called themselves, which left the rest of the household free rein.

At the mention of your part-time parents, Adam took a step forward, brow piqued, lips pursed.

“You in the habit of sharing all the naughty details about your love life with dear old daddy, baby sister?”

He only called you that when he wanted to rile you up or when he wanted something - both true in this case.

“Me?” You laughed, a full-on, hold your belly laugh. “Ha! You’re not exactly shy about the vast number of “dirty sluts” (you even treated him to finger quotes) you’ve found in the area, Sackler. You don’t need to tell us anything about your love life, you shit, because everybody already knows!”

Wiping delighted tears from your eyes, you shook your head. It really was too absurd.

“No, this is… too weird, and not for nothing, it's kind of creepy. I promise you’ll find shiny new sluts to fuck just around the corner at what’s-her-face’s block party. But please, wait five minutes so I can vacate the premises before you do whatever it is you do.”

~

Adam loved it when you laughed. He spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make you laugh because your eyes sparkled in such a pretty way, and your face softened all over. To put it plainly, you lit up from the inside. After Hannah’s crazy and Jessa’s perpetual moodiness, he simply enjoyed watching you laugh because it was easy to get you to do it. Easygoing and whip smart, he found he enjoyed the mental sparring with you because you could keep up, and you weren’t so fucking dramatic. 

That started everything.

Soon enough, he couldn’t get you - or your laugh - out of his head. Finding out about all the other faces and noises you made infected his brain. Now, when you laughed, his eyes trailed away from your face to the rest of your body because he wanted to see the effect of that laugh all over you. The bob of your breasts when he got you particularly good, the way you often held your waist and huffed at him, drawing attention to your generous hips - the details of you affected him far more than they should have and made him want to affect you just as much. 

If he was completely honest, he didn’t give a single shit if Jim or Carly ever found out. He was pretty sure he still wouldn’t give a shit if your relationship was by blood rather than marriage. He was going to fuck you. It was only a matter of time.

“Those are good reasons, baby sister, but that’s not a no…”

~

The problem was that Adam was right.

“Hey, uh..” The shitty dude you’d escorted to your front door turned at the threshold, beet red and stammering. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

You didn’t even remember his name.

“Sure. Yeah. Whenever?”

Probably more abruptly than you should have, you shut the door in his face and then let your forehead fall against it with a loud thud. You threw your fists in the air, irritated and crabby. Meeting him was nice. The party was pleasant; the wine flowed freely. His kisses tasted like candy, and the way he nibbled your neck was delightful.

After the banter, the ride home, and the bourbon, however, Rick… Robin?... Roger? Yes, Roger was all talk and no substance. His bed-game was decidedly lacking. All he’d accomplished was a nice warm-up, whiskey dick, and no grand finale for you. 

“It's. -thunk- Not. -thunk- That. -thunk- Hard!”

“Whatcha’up to, kid?”

You shrieked, jumped a foot off the floor, and spun with fists raised to knock the threat out, in theory at least.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sackler. You scared the shit out of me.”

Rubbing at your sternum to calm the racing of your heart, you slumped back against the door. You concentrated so hard on regulating your breathing that you didn’t hear him shuffle closer. Nor did you notice him leaning over you, his thick left arm braced on the door above your head, until his crooked index finger lifted your chin. Only then did the alarm bells ring because damn that was a sexy move. And Christ on a cracker he smelled good - salt from the ocean blended with caramel spice. It made your mouth water. 

“Feel like now’s the time for I told you so,” he quipped, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Tell you what…” The arm that was overhead slithered over your torso, settling a good bit of his weight across your shoulders. “I’ll do this, and you can tell people I forced you.”

He winked, and a second later, his warm hand slid into your DIY sleep shorts. You’d worn the ugly cut-off sweatpants pair to dissuade your date from lingering. Now, you wished you’d found an actual pair of pants because the shorts only gave away how traitorous your cunt was. Skillfully, Adam’s middle finger found the groove between your tacky labia, using the residual (barely) slickness from your failed attempt at sexy times with… Rufus? Ryan? Regardless of his name, his touches were clumsy compared to this. Adam kept an even pace and the exact right amount of pressure, sliding in the perfect way to coerce more wetness from your entrance and carry it back to your swollen clit.

You croaked, straight up sounded like you swallowed a frog because as his fingers defiled you south of the border, his stare wrecked you up north. His beautiful brown eyes were whiskey warm tonight, softened at the edges but intently focused upon you. You could get drunk on those kinds of eyes. If he gazed at all his conquests like this - as though nothing else mattered - you understood the pull. It moved, his stare, from your eyes to your mouth and back. You nearly begged him to kiss you but this was already so strange, so taboo. 

And yet… and yet…

~

He’d never been so fucking pleased to be right in his life.

All he had to do was get you there, and he’d win the argument. Roman, a guy he met on the track, was manufactured to be an idiot and would never figure out how to fuck right, even if his life hung in the balance. How he'd managed to even meet you was beyond understanding. 

Adam, however, had been fucking since he was 14, and he’d long since learned all the magic buttons. It was the one good thing to have come from his years struggling with sobriety. Replacing alcohol with sex taught him a lifetime’s worth of skills. Skills he now used to pull another squeak from your pouty mouth. Each time the pad of his finger caught your hood, the reluctant peep you made shot straight to his dick. He wasn’t sure if he would manage to not fuck you tonight, but he reminded himself that he had to play the long game.

For a solid 30 seconds, he rubbed only at your clit, back and forth, back and forth. He set a very specific rhythm that had you twisting beneath him deliciously. Your yelping grew louder and louder until one in particular cracked, and that was his cue.

“Hold my shoulder.” He nudged your nose with his to get your attention and nodded when both of your hands came up to rest on his chest and biceps. “That’s it.”

He couldn’t help himself from licking at the way your mouth popped open when he slid his fingers inside of you. The way the corners turned up was too tantalizing to ignore.

~

Mother Mary of God… He was inside you. Granted, it was only his fingers, but they belonged to your step-brother. Your face burned, but the hundred objections your brain conjured died at the back of your tongue because fuck, they were good. Two fingers, middle and ring, had you whining like a schoolgirl as he carefully, deliberately explored you. He wasn’t awkward about it like every other dude who’d been in your pants. He didn’t stab at your cunt as though he’d miraculously grown a jackhammer for a hand.

Nope. He took his time, slow and steady. He noted the angles and ridges that made you moan. And when he found that perfect spot, the spot that made you curse far louder than you intended, he stayed right there. There was no in and out anymore, no poking or prodding. Once he found it, his touch shifted from up/down and in/out to side to side. You came unfuckingglued. All ten fingers dug into hard flesh. You all but leapt into his arms as he rubbed at your tight bundle of electric nerves from the inside. And the more you responded, the faster he went.

“There’s nobody here, kid. Let’s hear it.”

You couldn’t have swallowed the cries for every dollar your dad invested in this huge-ass house. Your hips bucked against Adam’s expert manhandling, chasing that elusive sort of orgasm you can only get from someone else. Closer and closer it crept. Tighter and tighter you wound. From you knew not where, you found your voice, though it was scratchy and broken.

“D-don’t stop un-until I sh-sh-shake.”

His dark brow lifted, but he didn’t argue. It was a thing hardly anybody knew (because hardly anybody could fucking deliver), but a great orgasm, a really fantastic one, made you shake. Not tremble. Not wiggle. A full-body, clack your teeth kind of shake. On another day, you’d have been embarrassed to tell him that, but you watched determination change his face from amused and entertained to keenly interested. His efforts inside your cunt multiplied until you went rigid. He wanted to see it, clearly, but more than that, you wanted it, salivated for it. Right here on the cusp, you didn’t care that it would happen at his hands.

With your head tipped back, eyes screwed shut, and mouth agape, that hot-wet bud of ecstasy finally bloomed, and you wailed. It was electric, shooting sparks into your fingertips, but somehow, in the very middle of it, both of your hands wrapped around his wrist on the off chance he’d stop right at the best part, which they all did, but Adam only chuckled and carried right on fucking you stupid with nothing but two fingers.

Vulgar sounds squelched out around his fingers to accompany the vulgar things he whispered in your ear. Dirty girl with your pants around your ankles. Are you always this easy? Who’s the best big brother ever? Your pussy gushed; your ears rang. You rode his fingers like a champion, reveling in the quake and the rag-doll rattling of your insides.

The whole thing was indecent, fit for film, really.

~

Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. You cannot fuck her tonight. Do not fuck this up.

Long game. Long game. Long game.

You fell back against the door, wincing when he extricated his fingers. He wanted to wrap himself around you and keep pushing, but he held back. This was a delicate operation, and straying too much to either side would fuck it all up. You’d either blow up at him and feel like he actually assaulted you, or you’d never speak to him again. Neither was a winning scenario. Tamping down his near-manic need to taste you, he gently traced your lips with his gummy fingers until you opened your eyes.

“That was some show, kid.”

Confusion crinkled the corners of your eyes, and he nuzzled your chin, matching the fire in your cheek with his own. He understood. His proposal wasn’t normal, and how much you’d obviously enjoyed it probably had you all up in your feelings. Hovering his mouth above yours, so close he could feel your breath, he fought himself over whether you needed to be kissed.

But when you lifted ever so slightly onto your toes, seeking it out, he clenched his jaw hard and fought the urge to fuck you right here on the floor. Somehow, he kept his shit together, and he thought certainly he deserved a goddamn medal for valor. He pushed away and veered you towards the stairs.

“Time to go, little sister. It’s past your bedtime.”

~

For a week, Adam cornered you at least once a day to stuff your pussy full of his thick fingers and make you beg. After that first time, he knew exactly how to play you, and he delighted in drawing it out until you pleaded for him to make you cum. You’d mistakenly said his name during your second encounter, and now, he wouldn’t come anywhere near the things that made you shake without hearing it.

You never considered yourself the begging type, but it turns out that when someone knows precisely the way to touch you and the exact right way to make you scream as you climax, begging becomes much more palatable. It also turns out that whether Jim and Carly were home didn’t make a single bit of difference because when Adam texted you his offer from across the kitchen table, you ran after him like the house was on fire.

That’s how you wound up here, sitting on the edge of Adam’s desk, naked as the day you were born, legs spread obscenely wide and panties crammed in your mouth to keep you muffled if not quiet. With one hand deftly driving into your messy cunt and one wrapped around your hip to coax it into a rocking motion, he all but pulverized your sanity. Up was down, left was right, and “brother” was just another fucking word. As you inched higher and higher up climax mountain, you rationalized you weren’t really doing anything wrong. He’d never fucked you in any other way than this. He wasn’t a real brother, either. There was nothing wrong with a little fun, right? Sure, it was strange, but when he… fuck when he hit that spot right… right there… your brain went…

“You should let me fuck you,” he murmured against your throat, a throwback to what started all this.

It crackled in your prefrontal cortex, and you pushed at his bare chest, babbling incoherently because part of you thought it was the worst idea ever, and part of you thought it would be the best fucking thing in the history of ever. They argued with each other behind your eyes. That was too far. Wasn’t it? But it would feel so good. You couldn’t, possibly. Right? Sure, you could. Twice on Sunday, even. Surely, he had plenty of other options. Didn’t he? Who fucking cares?

“Just a little, kid. I’ve made it good for you, yeah? Just the tip.”

Your thoughts on the matter were irrelevant, it seemed, because the clink of his buckle launched you into a panic. You tried to escape his grip by leaning back, but he clenched his arm around your back, making escape impossible. Struggling to keep calm, you realized it felt ridiculous and performative to panic because you splayed across his desk like you were posing for his calendar. You gawked at him, eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite pin down because processing that your step-brother was about to put any part of his dick inside you was overwhelming. This was too much, too forbidden.

“Now, don’t look at me like that.” He rubbed soothing circles into your ribcage and stepped in. You felt the weight of a cock you’d never seen laying against your swollen pussy, eliciting a low groan. “Only for a minute. Stay right there; don’t move.”

And then, there it was. The round head of Adam’s cock slowly breached your body’s sticky barrier and scrambled your senses. Tears formed. Your chest heaved - because you wanted him to ravage you, to fuck you dumb and blind, but you just couldn’t. Right?

Maybe your inner monologue wasn’t so silent. Or maybe he read your mind. Something changed, though, from “just the tip” to an iron grip and his right hand over your gagged mouth as he snapped his hips and slid all the way home.

~

Adam expected you to shout, to have an outright tantrum and draw far too much attention to the situation. Instead, you shuddered against him the way you did when you came all over his fingers - not as hard but definitely unmistakable.

“That’s it. S’good cock, isn’t it? Told you you’d like it.”

Testing the waters, he withdrew about halfway and slowly pushed in again, absolutely loving the way you moaned in response. He’d nearly cum in his pants when you let him shove your panties into your mouth, and whenever he looked at you still gritting your teeth into them, his dick throbbed. With no firm objection, he unwound from his caging stance and took proper hold of your perfect, meaty ass. He scooted you closer to the edge of his desk, damn near falling off, so he could get his demanding dick inside you from tip to root right fucking now.

~

Adam’s cock was fat. There was no other way to describe it. He filled you up so completely you couldn’t even blink. The slide of his girth against your insides was dizzyingly good, and all you could do was cling to his shoulders.

And when he started talking? That dirty way with that sexy-ass voice?

It fucked you all the way up.

The things he said to you, too, differed from the things you’d heard him say to his hook-ups. They were filthy sluts, not even worthy to come over in the daylight, just a hole for him to get off to. You were his dirty little sister, though, weren’t you? Too cock-drunk to even say no to big brother. You loved his fat cock, didn’t you? You’d let him fuck you whenever he wanted, wouldn’t you?

You were positively, expertly, no two ways about it done for.

Like a dick-addled fool, you nodded along with all of it. You’d say whatever he wanted as long as he kept packing more and more of his missile cock into your aching cunt. Maybe that’s what you wanted - to be reduced to an object, a fuckdoll sister he’d turn inside out at his whim with no recourse to say no. When that idea took hold, you vibrated against him. You generally didn’t orgasm from penetration alone, but by sheer size, Adam rubbed at every single one of your spongy triggers with each stroke. Coupled with the downright pornographic thoughts in your fucked-out head, you whined like a petulant child, overcome by the effort it took to keep quiet, to keep yourself coherent.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Your eyes flew open, tracking the voice to its owner, who leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over a very familiar broad chest. You burned from ears to toes, knowing this looked exactly like what it was, and there was no pretending it was anything else. Even worse, your deviant fantasy abruptly shifted to include these extra details - wind-faded jeans, threadbare gray cotton shirt bleached by the sun, and a brush of red across a nose and cheekbones matching those you'd looked up at for days. He was a carbon copy of the man currently demolishing your boundaries by burying himself to the hilt in your body.

Ben, Adam’s twin, the wayward son, had finally home from his camping trip to the desert.

~

Adam nestled his face in your neck to hide his smugness. He knew his brother would be home today, and he timed everything around the fact Ben said he’d be here early afternoon. Edging you was a cake-walk. He’d been practicing all week, and when he saw the text asking if he needed anything from their favorite pizza place, he knew how much time he had to get you right and ready so Ben would find you well and truly empty-headed and sexed out. 

Ben wasn’t sold on having you. He half liked the idea, but he thought it was more trouble than it would be worth. More than once, though, Adam caught him lazily stroking himself while watching you run down the beach or sunbathe by the pool. It would only take a nudge to get his brother fully invested. Adam played the moment, and specifically you, perfectly, and holy shit if this wasn’t one for the books. You and your round eyes, searching for an explanation that would make sense of why he was balls deep in your tight cunt on a Saturday afternoon.

“Someone’s been a bad girl,” he said to his brother, licking a stripe across your thundering pulse. “What do you think, bad girl, wanna show Ben how you shake?”

~

You sobbed. There was nothing for it because Adam’s cock never stopped. His brother’s presence in the room didn’t faze him one bit, and it took a full minute for you to realize it was some of that twin bullshit you were always on them about. Of course they’d seen each other fucking. They probably fucked lots of people together. You bristled with humiliation because it was obvious Adam set this up, but your pussy, smart bitch, clutched at his every thrust, considerably more so when he asked you such a depraved thing.

Meeker than you intended, you nodded because yes, you did, in fact, want to show Ben how you came. 

Adam shifted his weight, pulling out of your sloppy cunt for only the time it took to put your feet on the floor and turn you to face Ben. He hummed as he grabbed your hips, pulled you back against his body, and let his cock find his target. Your head dropped on a moan as he filled you back up because it was even better this way. You had surer footing, could brace yourself on the desk’s corner, and didn’t have to concentrate on not falling. Using fistfuls of your hips as leverage, Adam crashed into you, sending jolts throughout your already overstimulated body. It was glorious.

And then, Ben’s boots came into your line of sight, followed swiftly by his muscular hand around your throat, silver rings cool against your heated flesh. You tracked beauty mark to beauty mark, wondering when the constellations kissed his cheeks. You should have been mortified. Ben finding you here with Adam should have struck you dead there and then, but it only emboldened you because his eyes weren’t full of judgment. He wasn’t disgusted by what he saw. His honey-gold gaze, laced with hunger, burned into you possessively. He held you by the neck, the strength of his grip waxing and waning in time to your heartbeat, while his brother plowed you from behind. When his voice wiggled its way into your ear, your knees nearly buckled. Adam’s was clear but devious, which made his filthy quips more surprising because they were hard to expect. Ben talked very little. His voice, which you didn’t truly appreciate until this moment, was rough and low, like his very voice box was calloused.

“Is this the first time he’s fucked you?”

You whimpered, eyes drifting shut until you felt a rough tap at your cheek. His face, all furrowed brows and licked lips, telegraphed that next time, he’d slap you proper. Pushing yourself to stare straight into his eyes - it was like looking into the sun - you nodded again, feeling every bit of your desire dribble down your legs because one brother was great, but two was immaculate.

“Is this the last time he’ll fuck you?”

Your guts clenched, and you reached out to stabilize yourself by laying both hands on Ben’s chest, which you already understood was only because he allowed it. Without a second thought, eager even, you shook your head. You’d reached the point where you’d let him - no them - do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it because holy goddamn.

Adam chose this moment to increase the speed with which he fucked you into oblivion. His hips slapped against yours, hands clamping down onto your shoulders for better leverage. Your eyes crossed, and you nearly swallowed your gag. With one hand on Ben, you reached up to grip Adam’s fingers, anchoring yourself between the two of them. They were your literal rock and a hard place, and they worked in tandem to drive you thoroughly crazy. Ben’s hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding your slippery clit. You howled, spine waking up to tingle and dance. 

“Fuck, there it is,” Adam groaned behind you. 

What else could you do but give him what he wanted?

~

His brother had told him about the way you shook when you orgasmed, and he really had thought nothing of it. Most people did that, didn’t they? If you did the job right, there was always a tremor in the legs, a wobble in the walk.

Ben was not prepared for the way you shook when you came.

For a second, he thought you were about to have a seizure, but he watched your face smooth out in pleasure, watched your lips turn up at the very corners, and he was flat out shocked by what he’d just witnessed. 

You loved it. Loved being fucked. Loved coming so undone your mind stopped working. For him, it was the way you smiled as you came. The shaking was stunning, of course, but nobody he’d ever fucked before had goddamn smiled - beamed! - through their climax. It was truly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

And then he grinned like the devil himself because fucking hell…

“You’re fucked, little sister. You know that?” 

He scooped some of your slick onto his finger and popped it in his mouth. Shit, you even tasted like candy.

“Well and truly fucked.”

[madame-fear]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 | 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

A complete sweetheart, literally. Right after you finish together, Lucerys will lay next to you and fill your face with tons kisses while cuddling you tightly against his body.

And of course being the lovely shy little bean he is, Luke will ask you all sort of things like: Did you like it? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you? Did you feel comfortable? just to make sure whether or not he needs to change on something to make your experience more pleasurable.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I don't think he'd have an specific favourite body part of yours. Lucerys would absolutely show love and appreciation to every single inch of your skin. However, I believe, the body part his hands would often visit while having intimacy together would be your legs, and your hips. He loves caressing those specific parts with his fingertips.

You, on the other hand, would love his soft and delicate hands. He knows how to use them (and his fingers) to make you feel over the clouds. And also, his neck; because you love kissing and nibbling on that zone since it would probably stimulate him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When it comes to cumming, he'd probably would like to see you completely ruined with his own liquids because it would arouse him even more, but wouldn't say anything about it cause his inner kink would remain hidden.

Lucerys is always careful not to finish inside of you even if it makes him feel more satisfied, but he always enjoys coming in your stomach, chest, face, neck, lips... well, everywhere, basically. In a way, he feels like cumming on your entire body signifies you're his, and only his.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I think a dirty secret of his would be wanting for you to take control of him. Tying him up and do whatever you wish with him, get on top of his body, dominate him, command him so he can obey, make him beg to cum/touch you... those types of thing.

Basically, he'd love to be an absolute sub for you, but would be too shy to bring those topics up no matter how much he adores and trusts you. Also, he would absolutely be fascinated when you tease him publicly, like for example: placing your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his in between leg.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, he had zero experience at all when it came to sex. He knew a thing or two about sexual relationships and satisfying women due to the erotic books he sometimes had to read due to his studies, but having real experience? No, zero; null.

Eventually, the more often you have those moments with each other, he'd get used to certain things, and would become more experience on what to do, what not to do, the things you like, your dislikings, etc.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Lucerys likes having you riding him (*coughcough*ridingatruedragon*coughcough*), and occasionally, he will also enjoy being on top of you (is that position called missionary? idk).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He could never be goofy neither before, nor during, or after. Luke will be serious the entire time, and he will solely focus on showing you how profoundly he loves you... as well, he will do his best to pleasure and meet all your needs, so no jestering around.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well... Lucerys likes to keep himself groomed for you, I guess!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Always a romantic boy, and the most intimate one. Luke's the sweet, loving, shy, soft, vanilla type of lover when it comes to having sex with him.

The one that will always asks you if you're okay with X thing, or if you feel confortable, if he's being too rough or not; the one that fills you with kisses and praises you constantly (for example: “you're so beautiful”, “you have no idea how badly I needed you”, etc). Also, will always try his best for both of you to be pleasured equally.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you both officially dated and he merely fancied you so badly, he started practicing intimacy and living out his wildest fantasies with you by jacking off at night, when nobody could disturb him.

After Lucerys had his first experience with you, there was no need to do so UNLESS you're apart for some days for some reason and he's really needy. At least, until he can get back to you. 👀

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sub/Dom, I guess. Luke will always enjoy being the sub boy that enjoys all your commands, and obeys. And if ruining you with his cum all over your body is a kink, then that one too.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Honestly he prefers to have serious privacy with you, so he will always prefer to have sex either on his chambers, or on your chambers at night.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, everything about you is just enough to motivate him.

The way you stare at him, the way you take hold of his hands, how you softly caress his skin with your fingertips, the way you kiss him... all of that, is just enough to get him in the mood. If you're in public he'll try to contain himself, but if you're in private? Be prepared to have his inner wild deagon be released.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Choking, spanking, anything that causes you phydical pain, denigrating you by calling you names, touching/doing certain things that make you uncomfortable or you simply don't like, knife play — all those things are a big NO for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lucerys likes both receiving, and giving; but he'd have a preference for giving.

Even if he gets turned on by the way you so gently and pleasurably take his size in your mouth, he still can't compare it to the satisfying feeling of holding your hips tightly while he goes down on you, the way you interwine your fingers around his messy hair and push his face deeper in between your legs, the way you loudly moan his name, and how you release your discharge in his mouth.

That ^^ is much, much better for him. So, he'd rather give you pleasure that way. And as in terms of skills, he will know exactly where to kiss, suck, nibble, and slightly bite as to make you feel more over the clouds.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely slow, and soft. The thought of accidentally giving you pain instead of pleasure just makes him tremendously nervous, so he'd rather take things slowly, and move inside of you in a delicate, yet deep way as to hit your soft spots.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Regarding quickies, I don't think he would fancy them much unless he's truly desperate.

When it comes to being aroused, once you start with the teasing, he can't make that moment last briefly; he needs to take his time, slowly and softly, and do as much things as he can to get pleasure out of both of you. So, no quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Even if he's still a little bit shy when it comes to these matters, he'll have no problem in being a little bit risky. Occasionally, he'll be the one slipping his hand on your thigh and fingering you under the table in front of everyone; enjoying the way you have to contain your moaning and whimpering, or perhaps, you'd take a more risked chance and have sex in the library, where anyone could find you there.

So, YES TO RISKS.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think he'd be able to go through 3-4 straight rounds without getting dizzy. Our boy is quite an active little dragon, so expect him to be even more horny and needy after those 4 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really. He wouldn't use them, nor you use toys on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Our boy adores teasing you to no end, especially when being in public.

Like I said previously, when he decides to take risks, he'd finger you under the dinner table in front of everyone and enjoy having you squirming under him — but, when he wants to tease, he'd simply place a hand on your thigh dangerously close to your in-between leg, and watch you lose your shit.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Even though he tries to keep his moaning as contained as possible — releasing some small, whimpering groaning — he will eventually lose control of himself, and would moan rather loudly to the point any guard outside his chamber would be able to hear you.

His sounds would be mostly whiny moaning, whimpering, and groaning.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One time, Jace entered his chambers in the middle of the night without knocking; only to find the two of you wildly fucking, and your body dripping with all of Luke's cum.

At least, Jace learned the reason why knocking on someone's door before entering.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I'd say he's either average, or sliiightly a little above average. Either way he's a good one at pleasuring you, no doubt.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before he started dating/having sex with you, he wasn't one to have developed much sexual appetite. But, after his first sexual experience with you, expect him to be always needy and touchy, or hinting you that he needs to feel you from the inside. So he's got kind of a high sex drive.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Shortly after cumming together, he'd probably takd a few minutes to get off his high of adrenaline, and fall asleep.

Though, he'd lay on bed while holding you tightly close to him, praising you with sweet words, and giving you many kisses as to calm down a bit from the intensity of the moment until you both fall asleep together, cuddling.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @feliuuuksks

[writtenbyaris]

my creative writing process as a planner 🌟

the idea:

story ideas come to me at the most random and inconvenient of times. right before i fall asleep, when i'm in the shower, during my classes, etcetera. my main rule is to always write them down, whether it's in my notes app or a slip of paper or a journal... i'll forget it if i don't.

i try keeping it simple at this stage and not thinking too deeply about it, otherwise it becomes quite overwhelming. sometimes ¡'ll make a pinterest board depending on what the idea is. if it's more of an aesthetic, then i can make a moodboard out of it to help inspire me more. however, if the idea is a plot of some sort, that can be a bit more difficult.

character and world building:

this is my favorite part. once i have an idea set in stone and i'm ready to work on it, i begin building the characters and the world around it. i figure out the mechanics of the idea and how it can relate to characters and the world they're in.

at this point, i'm definitely making pinterest boards, playlists, and picrews to feel more immersed in the skeleton of the story.

i still keep it as simple as possible, and try to enjoy it. when i try juggling too many things at once, i end up wanting to abandon the project. slow and steady is the key for me :)

creating the story:

now we get down to what being a writer actually is.. transforming the idea into a story. i have to at least come up with one major plotline to start. i usually write in my journal during this stage, but sometimes i'll use notion to organize everything and keep track of it all.

oftentimes, the main plot will come to me when i'm working on character and world building. sometimes it's even the idea that first popped into my head. the story is usually influenced by dreams i've had, my own every day experiences, and other media i consume.

arcs, subplots, themes, etc:

this stage is for the smaller details that are vital for the story to flow and actually work. it's like a puzzle that's finally coming together.

for me, a story isn't a good one without arcs and themes, so those are of utmost importance. subplots are necessary to make the world more immersive, give readers insight on the characters, and keep the story naturally flowing. everything has to be woven back in to the main plot or idea, though.

i will say, this is the stage that tends to give me the biggest headache :P

zero draft:

jumping into a first draft as a heavy planner is too scary for me. so i came up with the idea of a zero draft. basically- zero expectations.

this is the backbone of my story. in this stage, i'm basically just taking myself through the steps of the story. i organize the plot and subplots into chapters, and with each chapter i go through all the beats of each scene. literally every. single. thing. that happens.

i don't usually include dialogue in this phase, but i do mention when a character will be in a conversation. all the focus should be on putting a needle and thread through the story and tying it all together.

first draft:

the first draft is somewhat easier for me because i do a zero draft. so, i know everything that will happen in a chapter and just have to utilize my writing abilities to make it rhythmic.

this is the first stage where i write dialogue, so it tends to be corny. a lot of my writing can be cliche and basic as well. that's what editing is for though!

i usually stress the most when writing my first draft, because it's the first time the story is actually being written in the format of a novel. by the end, it's not always very good either. but i do not look back at all, which means absolutely no editing until the first draft is finished.

and so on…

once the first draft is finished, then comes draft two. it's enjoyable to be able to read your own work all over again, though it's sometimes embarrassing as writing does improve with practice.

i focus on one chapter at a time-reading slowly, editing, filling in plot holes, fixing anything that changed later in the story. i try to catch as many details as i can.

usually, after as many rounds of editing one likes, the draft would be sent to an editor and beta readers. then i'd look into publishing companies (can you tell i haven't gotten to that point yet? lol)

are you a planner or a pantser?

[manias-wordcount]

hiya! i really love your writing and i was wondering if you could do something about ramuda amemura w/ a s/o that lacks self worth/is struggling with mental health issues? they would be a lot like him as well, except they put on a lot of different sides for diff people/groups of people, and their true self is still unknown to them cause of the self manipulation, but theyre a rather soft hearted, kind, and insecure person in general. theyve had a long a rocky past, from being verbally/physically abused by parents, to being excluded at school. theyre also quite good at bottling up their emotions as well, so maybe the scene would start in the middle of a silent panic attack? (although he can tell cause mutual trust and dating for a while) if you arent comfy w/ this, i completely understand (its just a silly rq to help me cope im sorry dndbdjdnd), so please dont pressure yourself! ty for your time and have an amazing day/night!

Just Breathe (Ramuda Amemura x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!!! 𝗱𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗸. 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝘂𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹, 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮. 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

When you feel like you’re dying, you don’t like to be touched. 

  Even when you start to tremble. Even you feel find yourself silently slinking out of the room with your breaths running short and your eyes growing wide. Even as your heart beats and beats and  beats  against your chest as you look for a quiet place to hide away and exist. Even as your vision starts to blur with tears and you become dizzier and dizzier until the second you’re able to fall onto the ground. And  especially  when you start to grow scared. When you start to grow confused. When you start to  choke , you don’t like to be touched. You can’t be touched. You don’t  want  to be touched. You don’t want that to die. But you don’t want that to be the thing that kills you either.

  And yet…

  “Deep breath in…”

  …you still choose to let him in.

  “...deep breath out. And again. Here we go-”

  Most of the time, you could listen to Ramuda talk and hum and sing to you all day long. Oddly enough, this is one of those times. But as you sit on the hard pavement of a random back alleyway in Shibuya, tucked in between trashcans and forgotten pieces of junk, you find that no matter how hard you try, you just can’t focus. You just can’t  breathe . And you’re trying. You’re trying really, really, really,  really  hard to. You want to do what he says. You want to feel better. You don’t want to make him feel worried for you. But it’s  hard . It’s  hard,  and you hate it. You hate it, and you’re  scared . You’re scared, and you don’t want to  die.  

  It’s fear that boils up first in moments like these. Fear that hits you heavy and hits you hard as it overpowers all else in your mind overflowing so, so  much . Anger and Sadness fight to be tasted. Two strong flavors. Two strong emotions. They fight for who is next behind fear. They fight for who is more powerful. In the moment. For all time. But exhaustion? Exhaustion waits its turn. It has laid claim to the aftertaste. Soon it will lay claim to you. And right after? You know it won’t be death. You know it won’t be. 

  But it feels that way. 

  It feels like it’ll be something close to death. It feels like something worst than terror and nightmares itself. It feels that way so, so much right now. That you’re going to die in just a second. That you’re going to gasp on your last exhale. Choke on your inhale. Tears will be streaming down your face, but your body feels too warm, your heart beats too fast, and your body shakes too much, and you’ll  die.  Right here, and right now. With your hands in his. And his hands and yours. 

  You sob.

  “ Shh, shh…it’s okay,”  In an instant, Ramuda is shushing you. Your cries are quiet. You’ve learned to hide your tears well. You knew you would be punished if you did anything else. But that last cry cuts through the air like a knife. It pains you so. It squeezes at your throat with the stress. It squeezes at your heart with the fear. And then before you know it, it swallows up your everything in silence once more. To hide your emotions. To cover up your fears. And to do so much more. “We’ll get through this. We have each other. So breathe with me, okay?”

  You want to. You want to tell him that too. You want to tell him how you want nothing more but to breathe out the same air he fills his lungs with. You want to tell him how you want to follow his every order- his every direction- because you know much he cares for you. You want to.

  But a quiet sob mixed in between a deep inhale is all you can muster. A pitiful sound. Nothing short of a mere hiccup as your lips try to move. They try to make a sound. And when it doesn’t work out the first time, they try again. And again. And again. And again until all they can do is part in desperation to let out another cry. 

  Somehow your abusers of times past have claimed your tongue as their own. 

They’ve silenced you. They’ve silenced you and they’re not even here. They’ve silenced you and they haven’t paid for it yet. For your pain. For your suffering. For their sins. For their transgressions.

  You deserve better than this. You deserve more than this.  Words so easy to say. Words so hard to  mean . You can’t convince yourself of that message. You can’t promise yourself that you weren’t meant to be hurt. But that’s the thing. You don’t want to hurt. You don’t want to die. You don’t want this to be the end. You don’t want to choke. You don’t want to cry. You want to breathe. You want to smile. You want peace, not suffering. You want laughter, not anger. Your happiness, not sadness. But most of all?

  “Another deep breath in. We’ll be okay. I promise we’ll be okay.” 

  You hold your hands in his. He holds your hands in yours. You want him instead. 

  “I’ll do my best to protect you, I swear. So just breathe with me, alright?”

  You want him instead.

   It takes a couple of seconds, but you manage to nod your head, and you can almost  feel  the encouraging smile he offers you in exchange. Somewhere in the blurry mess of your vision, you’re able to see one of the only people to ever matter in your life. He speaks to you gently in this moment. He teaches you how to breathe in the same voice he sings to you in. You still feel like you’re dying. But the feeling is starting to ebb and flow with each word he says. With each breath he takes. Sometimes it’s there. Sometimes it’s not. Sometimes you’re afraid. Sometimes you’re not. Sometimes you’re happy. Sometimes angry. Sometimes you’re sad. Sometimes you’re a whole lot of things.

  But for now, you’re doing your best to breathe while Ramuda is doing his best to talk you down from the same bridge to hell that you’ve found him traversing on as often as you do. You’re still a lot of things right now. He’s still a lot of things too. But for now, you'll hold your hands in his. And he’ll hold your hands in yours. You have a long way to go to escape all of your pain. A long, long, long way. But if heaven is a place on earth for the two of you to witness?  Well…

  “Just breathe.”

  …you hope he sings you a song as the two of you drag each other along. 

  You hope more than anything. 

[hwangjins00]

Johnny Lawrence and the self-fulfilling prophecy

so i've been thinking about this for a while and also because s6p1 just came out but i think that johnny is one of the best examples of a self-fulfilling prophecy in ck.

SO we've seen multiple times that johnny's been told he ruins people, by danial, robby, shannon, and carmen, even terry. And i'm not gonna disregard his actions, i agree that he has done a lot of stuff that negatively affected himself and those around him, not limited to becoming a functioning alcoholic, teaching kids aggression, drunk fights, being an absentee father, etc

BUT we also see him try a lot of times to get his act together and do better for the people around him, such as teaching miguel mercy, cleaning up his apartment and trying to limit drinking for carmen, and trying to get along with daniel for the sake of his students, but he's still criticized even for trying his best, the only character to consistently have been on his side through his highs and lows has been miguel.

out of all the characters the one who refuses to see johnny's change the most is probably daniel, and this is NOT a daniel hate post, i love daniel and he's one of my favourite kk and ck characters but that doesn't disregard the fact that he tends to have knee-jerk reactions and gets unbalanced easily when it comes to johnny. A lot of the characterization in the show can be attributed to writing choices but i'm going to try my best to not make that my main focus.

alright lets start!

when johnny first opens up his dojo its partly because of the anger he feels towards daniel for succeeding in life but mainly because he doesn't want miguel to keep getting beat on and miguel probably reminds him of himself before he met kreese. Daniel is the one to come to johnny and tell him to close cobra kai and this is completely valid seeing as how daniel's experiences with cobra kai were in his youth, however its also been 30 years and its reasonable to assume that johnny isnt still a high school bully. He tells miguel that if he doesnt leave the dojo he'll end up 'just like' johnny. Right off the bat we have someone insinuating that johnny is a terrible role model. Then when daniel starts training robby and discovers robby's homelife he goes to talk to johnny just to immediately turn on him the second he sees kreese, he doesn't talk to johnny to clear up the situation and he doesn't tell him about his son, and yes johnny has been a shitty dad but he deserves to know that his kid is going to be living with someone else (i honestly thought it was crazy that daniel never mentioned that he had johnny's SON IN HIS HOUSE??)

when robby takes sam to johnny's apartment when she was drunk daniel literally kicked down his door and got into a physical fight with johnny because he couldn't believe that johnny was being considered a safe space for his son to bring his crush to in order to sober up and wouldn't listen to johnny rationally asking him to calm down. and S6 SPOILERS but i think that out of the two of them johnny was trying much harder to be accomodating to daniel, he gave up the name cobra kai and eagle fang for miyagi do, worked kata into his teaching and geniunely tried to not be so hard headed and quick to fight. He tried to get a job (daniel making him switch from using karate as a job was honestly crazy, that was literally how he was paying bills and putting food on the table, johnny asking to be paid for his time and effort wasnt an insane ask especially considering that daniel owns multiple dealerships and chozen comes from a rich family as well, johnny is the only one that actually needed the dojo as a way to make money) and just overall be there, im not saying hes a great dad right away but its obvious that he's trying to be there for both miguel and robby without making either one of the boys feeling forgotten. (ex, telling them both he's proud win or lose, tying robby's headband, listening to miguel's college essay)

HOWEVER, it seems that no matter what he does, johnny is almost never seen positively by anyone other than miguel and devon. daniel switches up on him instantly (he drops people at the first sight of their flaws, as soon as johnny takes even a single step backwards instead of acting rationally and looking at the situation + offering support he tells johnny he'll never change and drops him immediately, he did the same thing with robby and doing that to a teenager dependent on you for food and shelter is honestly crazy), carmen has been pretty much sidelined due to the baby (i have THOUGHTS on this), kreese is his only supporter and he was literally tripping balls and snapped hallucination johnny's neck like a stale breadstick so johnny doesnt really have much in the way of a good support system

now for those that have somehow stuck around lol lets get to the actual point (i realized here that i literally just blabbed for so long without making my point lmfao)

a self-fulfilling prophecy is essentially: you become what you are told. if i told you everyday that you will never amount to more than what you are right now, ive 'prophesied' your future and to self-fulfil it you would just stop trying because you know that nothing you do will ever change my mind.

in a similar vein i believe that deep down johnny DOES believe that no matter what he does or how hard he tries he'll never be able to move past the image of him thats already been made up in peoples minds (society for all it talks about rehabilitation does not tend to actually support those who want to rehabilitate- more thoughts below) and so he goes through a constant cycle of disappointing those around him again and again because no one believes he can be any better and he's internalized that, i honestly have soo many thoughts about johnny's character in kk1 and ck and i would love to chat with anyone interested about it

re: society and rehab

so people talk the good talk about how rehabilitation is important and necessary, in the show daniel is able to form good friendships with both chozen and mike who were arguably much worse than johnny was to him (chozen fought in a literal DEATH MATCH against him and mike harassed him, dangled him off a cliff, forced him to compete in a rigged match where he pretty much just whaled on him on the mat), why was daniel able to forgive these guys but not johnny? my theory is that its because to him chozen and mike have their lives together and have also properly apologized for their actions (JJ&H im still waiting on that johnny apology where we address the 'you're alright larusso' line) meanwhile johnny has obviously gone downhill since HS, but daniel never takes his attempts to get it together seriously and along with a lot of the toxic ideals put into him by kreese, johnny doesn't take his rehabilitation seriously either, he can't afford rehab for his alcohol dependency (plus rehab isnt viewed positively by him either) and he doesnt have a very steady support system so that makes it even more difficult. unlike daniel he's never had a positive father figure in his life which makes it difficult for him to act as a father without fear of becoming kreese, i just wish that the show would take johnny's journey to becoming the man he wants more seriously

[washa]

I listened to Vincent and Sam’s recent audio and here’s my favourite personal comments/thoughts! (We need Elliot and some blues clues shit right now man 😭)

“He’s tying up some loose ends.” I’M SORRY?? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN NOW??

Also Sam sounds rather pissed and I’m just a tad scared.  

“Do we think those “loose ends” will still have a pulse by the time he’s done with them?” Probably not. Realistically not. 

Vincent sounds so disbelieving?? I MEAN I WOULD BE TOO???

“I’m not even exactly sure where he went.” Porter don’t you dare ghost treasure. PORTER DON’T YOU DARE GHOST TREASURE.

Again on, The Shaw pack needs a fucking break 🙌

I bet Vincent is FUMING or right now. Imagine you were mingling with someone who had a hand in something that legitimately killed a thousand people, and your lover. 

No bc i get it, Vincent must be like so fucking conflicted. I FUCKING KNEW WHEN VINCENT SAID HE WAS "GONNA FOCUS ON THE GOOD" IN THE PORTER AND VINCENT MEETING VIDEO SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN. 

I mean i wouldn’t call them “his lover” but go on. 

“His moral compass has never pointed true north.” Amen, Now on that note, I’d like to reinstate on how Treasure should run. 

“-And were gearin’ up for somethin’ else.” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??

Yeah Vincent stay positive 💪 

CloseKnit = Hydra confirmed 

HUH WHAT FUCKING SCANDAL AND RAID??? Bro.. HUH

I imagine a lego tower with like “House of Bennet” stuck on it crumbling down in Lego Movie style.

“We’re about to get our hands a lot dirtier then.” If you can listen closely, you can hear Vincent’s eyes darkening, his character development and trauma tingling.

“No secondhand go-betweens, no twisted game of telephone.” I love the way he said that, Like yes drop them bars Princey ‼

URGH I LOVE THE WAY THE BOTH ASK EACH OTHER IF THEY’RE BOTH OK WITH IT UIEKJK

“They’ve shown incompetent they can be.” Sweetheart’s kicking the ground right now.

I have a question, Has nobody followed up on Elliot??? I know he reported it after the Inversion and how he got brushed off bc yk it was the INVERSION. BUT It’s been TWO FUCKING YEARS?? Realistically he’d be one of the best leads on CloseKnit, He has a basic understanding how powerful CloseKnit is and how they operate. Can we get a lil circle back to him please 😭 

“I’m not Porter, I won’t just do something because it’s what’s ordered of me, whether I agree with it or not. That’s not how I operate.” DAMN SAM DAMN

----------------------

The next couple of lines are just things Sam said that I find really interesting…

“But that’s a dangerous precedent. We all know what growing power can do to a person with good intentions.” 

“-”Messy realities” of being in his House, Since we never wanted to be in it in the first place, and that choice was taken from us.” 

“But it’s also convenient that he kept all of this from the two people who were most likely to have a problem with what he’s doing.”

 “-To only trusted in people who voice any opposition to it, and well just do as ordered without question.”

“I need answers on those things.” 

“I appreciate you see me on that same level, deservin’ that same trust from him. But in a lot of ways, William’s old school.”

“I’m not his progeny. I haven’t been around as long as you or Alexis, He didn’t take me under his wing, like he did Porter. He’s always been kind to me, Set me up with a home and with work, and I'm grateful for that.” (I can’t tell if Sam said fringe or friend next, but If it is friend, then Porter and Sam feel the same way, which is an interesting take on how they both feel.)

“I believe that feels that he owes you an explanation, I don’t know if he’ll think that he owes me one.”

----------------------

REAL VINCENT PREACH MAN, WILL NEEDS TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING LIKE WHAT THE FUCK ‼

“Glorified Press Release” I want that framed on my wall.

Vincent has developed SO MUCH within these two years it’s crazy.

HUH DARLIN’??? WDYM DARLIN’????

Vincent wants like a guard dog or smth?? Or is he gonna use the guilt trip/ threaten type shit, Like,“Look who you put in danger, a member of the Shaw Pack! Tell me what’s gonna happen from now on or the Shaw Pack will cut ties with you 😇”

Hey on the bright side, Hendral Wyrdsmythe is coming BACKKKK 💕

[mistresslrigtar]

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💖 What made you start writing?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

Ty for the ask! I'm procrastinating from doing any actual writing so my answers below are long-winded....

🤗I'm not sure I'm the best one to give advice to new fanfic writers, since I feel like I'm just getting started myself! However, the biggest thing I've learned over the past year and have to keep reminding myself is to NOT compare my writing to anyone else. Instead, I try to focus on what I know I'm good at, use those strengths as the building blocks for my stories and write around them. What does that mean? For me, I start with the dialogue and characterization (sometimes the page only has a conversation written out, then I go back and fill in the setting, internal thoughts, actions, etc.) I also focus on just one or sometimes two things (world-building, internal conflict, showing vs telling, etc) I would like to improve upon. I find one-shots are a great way to experiment and focus on an area I would like to work on.

💖I've always loved to read, especially sci-fi/fantasy novels, and imagine what it would be like to live in those worlds. As a former stage performer, I started writing as a creative outlet (it seemed like the next best thing to performing a musical or play) and as a way to immerse myself into those worlds and characters. I'm sure I'm not the only author who puts themselves in their characters shoes.

🧐Do I research my stories? That depends on the stories. So far, I've had to do some research for two of my stories. The first is my completed work that I've talked about ad nauseum (😅🤣) I Belong to You. I had to do a bit of research on drug addiction and some other stuff... I'm talking about alt rock bands and songs, guitars, and motorcycles, I swear. Seriously, I spent HOURS listening to music until I found the right band for that story. (Good thing I like alt rock. I mean, I'm a huge Radiohead fan, so Muse was like listening to classic rock in comparison😂)

The most in-depth to date is for my current WIP Captain Link Araki.

For starters, I can't tell you the number of hours I spent researching Japanese surnames to find the right one for him. Following that, I read a lot about pirates, their habits, the crewman, jargon, what they do when their ships need repairs, what types of ships they preferred, etc. Then, after I picked a ship, I had to look up the parts of the ship, if it would have a main cabin, how many sails, etc, etc. As it was, I still got some of it wrong, but thankfully my wonderful beta (Zelmo 😉) knew enough to tell me what I needed to fix. I like to incorporate some reality into my stories, so I spent the better part of an afternoon looking up rowing terms and mechanics, and that was only for a two page scene! So, yes, I guess I do research when needed, and tend to get so sucked into studying and taking notes that little to no actual novel writing gets done that day.

So, all that being said - if you happen to read that story and notice something I got wrong or have a suggestion, feel free to tell me. 😅

And thanks if you read this rambling answer!