Tumgik
#JUST DO THAT THEN. IF YOU WANT. ENJOY IT. THIS IS NOT A PRODUCT. YOU ARE A CREATIVE PERSON SO DO CREATIVE. THAT IS ENOUGH
qveerthe0ry · 2 days
Text
Your Ride, Best Trip
Tumblr media
Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time
Marcus Pike is perfect. 
He’s your dream man. 
He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.
He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place. 
He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees. 
He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally. 
See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit. 
How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own. 
So you asked him what was up, and he told you.
Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it. 
You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.
After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.
You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too. 
And then he finally kissed you.
It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight. 
You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things. 
But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.
You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him. 
It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt. 
You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing. 
His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow. 
When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore. 
You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training. 
“Sweetheart—”
His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them. 
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 
You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager. 
“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated. 
But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 
You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed. 
“What do you want?” 
His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in. 
“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.” 
But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine. 
“You’re lying.” 
You sigh and close your eyes. 
“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.” 
You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty. 
“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers. 
It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—
“I have a small dick.” 
His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.
He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment. 
“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?” 
He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction. 
“Marcus…”
“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“
“Marcus.”
You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.
“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?” 
He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little. 
“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs. 
You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation. 
Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not. 
“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him. 
He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his. 
“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”
“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?” 
He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead. 
“Everyone?” 
You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you. 
He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up. 
“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”
He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at. 
“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?
All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”
He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you? 
“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.” 
There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze. 
“Really?”
You scoff. 
“Really really.”
A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth. 
“Why?”
“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”
His face flushes, but he lets you continue.
“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”
“Me too,” he whispers.
“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”
You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine. 
“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.
“Oh yeah?” 
“Yeah… For one, your hands.”
“My hands?”
He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment. 
“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”
He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back. 
“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”
He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.
“And I love to give head.”
“Jesus.”
“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.” 
“Sweetheart—”
“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”
He says your name again, this time with a warning tone. 
You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted. 
“You’re not lying.”
His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again. 
“Fuck.”
It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs. 
“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.” 
That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth. 
His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you. 
You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction. 
You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long. 
Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs. 
You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt. 
Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking. 
But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved. 
He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice. 
“I think about you, too. All the time.” 
You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest. 
“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?” 
Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter. 
“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”
Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod. 
He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience. 
His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt. 
“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?” 
The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss. 
“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”
You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head. 
He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you. 
He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before. 
“Marcus—”
“I know, I know.”
His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers. 
“Can I?”
You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch. 
“Oh, are you that sensitive?”
His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck. 
“It’s just you.” 
And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief. 
And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans. 
“So sweet, huh?”
You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess. 
He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips. 
“That’s all for me?” 
There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.
But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again. 
He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip. 
“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 
The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you. 
“Yes, please.”
He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes. 
Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs. 
You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face. 
It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control. 
“You sure you’re ready?”
You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.
“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”
He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him. 
The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest. 
He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels. 
His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.
“You’re soaked.” 
His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest. 
The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure. 
Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 
There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else. 
You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding. 
“That feel good, sweetheart?”
Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers. 
“You have no idea.”
He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face. 
“I think I do,” he mumbles.
He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side. 
You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles. 
All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself. 
You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together. 
Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing. 
But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids. 
You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours. 
“That’s it. This what you needed?”
A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.
He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder. 
“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?” 
You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs. 
You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction. 
He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants. 
“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.” 
You huff. 
You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it. 
Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours. 
“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe. 
He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.
He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs. 
He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out. 
All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation. 
The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again. 
Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you. 
All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold. 
Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs. 
A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever. 
His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep. 
“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.” 
You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust. 
His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there. 
It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake. 
“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.” 
To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping. 
All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue. 
As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him. 
His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him. 
He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach. 
Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers. 
His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that. 
And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is. 
You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him. 
Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat. 
“So… How’d it compare?” 
Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question. 
“Pardon?”
But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them. 
“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?” 
You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up. 
“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are. 
He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs. 
You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs. 
“Better,” you whisper. 
You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back. 
And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver. 
You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips. 
You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants. 
He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension. 
His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. 
So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little. 
But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard. 
But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up. 
“Will you let me suck it?” 
All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods. 
“Please.” 
It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction. 
He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants. 
You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough. 
So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go. 
Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you. 
You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel. 
He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock. 
His little cock. 
It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess. 
And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing. 
You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.
When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this. 
You’ll make him look, one way or another. 
For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention. 
He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head. 
And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth. 
It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him. 
You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show. 
You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to. 
Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens. 
“Fuck, sweetheart.”
Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more. 
You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool. 
It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere. 
You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock. 
“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”
Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself. 
He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds. 
He says your name. 
You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls. 
He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked. 
“Sweetheart, stop, please.”
You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face. 
“Are you okay?”
He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 
“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”
“Marcus.” 
His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.
“Do you want to fuck me?” 
You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question. 
“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”
He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face. 
“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”
His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe. 
“Yeah? You still want it?” 
His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. 
“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 
You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away. 
“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?” 
You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of  amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later. 
For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.
The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body. 
He’s so hot. 
It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation. 
“Please,” you whisper. 
He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed. 
“Perfect, sweetheart.”
He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit. 
“Are you ready?”
You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling. 
You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time. 
You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.
“Oh fuck.”
You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense. 
“Fuck, Marcus, please.”
You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you. 
He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him. 
But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles. 
And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm. 
“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out. 
Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh. 
“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”
A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it. 
“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”
You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display. 
“Yes ma’am.”
Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up. 
He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist. 
His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you. 
But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them. 
His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you. 
“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.
Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.
“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?” 
Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit. 
“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”
His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight. 
Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy. 
There’s screaming. 
You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts. 
“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”
“In me.”
Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene. 
His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks. 
He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps. 
His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. 
“Jesus,” he says.
Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again. 
“Huh?” 
God, how are you ever going to move again? 
“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”
Christ, why is he using such big words? 
“What are you talking about?” 
He clears his throat. 
“You like— You squirted?”
You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly. 
“I what?”
You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright. 
“Yeah, like, a lot.”
He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out. 
You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked. 
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.
“What?” 
“Why do you seem so surprised?”
His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver. 
“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”
He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees. 
He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you. 
You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body. 
He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body. 
“Hi,” he whispers. 
You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.
It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high. 
Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 
“That was—”
“It’s never—”
You both chuckle. 
“Ladies first.”
You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach. 
“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”
You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do. 
“It’s never been that good.”
A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest. 
It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?
You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth. 
“When can we go again?”
323 notes · View notes
wh1msic4alwasab1 · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐓𝐨𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: your boyfriend takes you out on a date while he sees how well you like the new toy he made for you
tags: overstimulation, semi-public, vulgar, explicit, thigh riding, penetration
wrd cnt: 1.0k
a/n : rewrite/repost from first acc!
Tumblr media
Imagine tartaglia being your own personal toy maker. ;)
He'd love to test all his inventions on you, mostly in you.
One night you'd be taking a stroll with him through the harbor to find a place to eat, as night was falling fast. Before you enter the building, he's got you against a wall in an alleyway and his hand down your skirt, pushing your panties aside and inserting a controlled vibrator into you after you finally agree to his schemes. “Make sure this doesn’t fall out yeah” He said with a grin and quick kiss to the cheek.
You two made a bet before this, if you caved and demanded for him to take you home then you'd be filling in for his errands for 2 weeks.
A few minutes go by, and you're paranoid. Why hasn't he done anything yet? He's usually so eager? A few more minutes go by and it's time to order food, as you begin your order you feel a small vibration in between your legs, here we go.
It was bearable, and you didn't have any trouble ordering anything. You simply look at him and offer a smile.
"Anything wrong princess? You look a little stiff."
“Nope. I feel wonderf-“ As you reply to him you cut yourself off, you could feel a sudden increase in intensity.
Your entire chair was beginning to vibrate and your clit was throbbing at this point. You squeezed your legs so hard and your hands began to fist up, you look at his smug face in a pleased manner and he completely turns it off. Exhaling deeply as laughs.
"You're shaking sweetheart, do you need anything? Should I call the waiter?”
He knows exactly what he's doing, and you hate that it's turning you on so much.
Quickly after your food arrives, you enjoy your meal together without any fuss.
After the bill is paid you walk throughout the shops, heading up to the golden house as Tartaglia had unofficial business to conduct. At the shops, you spy some handmade glass artworks, and spent time looking at them. After deciding to purchase one and going up to the salesman's, you could feel small tingles.
Immediately after, it's all the way up again. One of your knees buck and you drop the money. You squat down to pick it up and the toy is pressing up against all your most sensitive areas, your knees shaking now. You pay for your product and your breathing intensely. You can't handle it anymore.
"Okay you win let's go.", you say, pulling him off to the patio of a nearby tea shop, clutching your bag.
He smirks, "what was that?"
"Tartaglia- take. me. home."
"Home? That's pretty far from here", he sits down on one of the chairs on the patio as the toy is still buzzing inside you.
"Turn it off then you've already won-!”
"Aw baby but it's so fun to see you squirm like this, how about I just give you what you want?"
Your eyes light up slightly, you can't let him see how happy you are or it'll just go to his head.
You nod, thinking he's agreeing to taking the two of you home but he's not moving?
"You don't want it now?"
Here? Now? You could hardly believe him. But the thought of it didn't turn you off, it did quite the opposite.
The toy in your pussy was driving your thoughts and before you could think you were sat on his lap, with your tongues twined. You could feel his hands gripping your thighs as he grinded you into his cock, you could feel how hard it was even through his clothes.
"If you really want it you'll have to show me."
You couldn't take it anymore.
You slipped off your panties and rubbed yourself on his thigh, rutting against him, your pussy was so wet he could feel it soaking his clothes. His hands reached towards your chest and pulled down your shirt, your breasts spring out as he plays with your nipples, watching your tits bounce as you ride his thigh.
"You really want me to fuck your guts huh baby?"
You nod and his hand finally slips down towards your sex, he licks his fingers and rubs your sore clit, you've already came a few times from the toy still left inside your hole.
He pulls you off his thigh and sets you on his lap, unbuckling his belt and you watch his cock grow even more. He slides his tip up and down your slit, pressing his head against your clit.
Finally, the toy is out of you, and not seconds later replaced by his huge cock.
He's bouncing you up on his member, suckling on your chest, watching you rub your clit.
"You look so sexy like this baby, I hope someone sees how perfect you look while I stuff you full."
You almost forgot you were in public, but it just made you more wet thinking about the risk.
Anyone could see you riding Tartaglia, but all you cared about was his cum filling you up.
You find him twitching his legs, furrowing his eyebrows as you suck his cock in, tightening around him as you get closer.
Not after long, he's rutting into you as you bounce and cursing so loud people might just hear. Your moans escape you as you try to hold back, but you end up just releasing on his dick, leaving a white rim at the base of his cock.
Seeing you fucked out and breathless sends him over the edge, he fucks his cum into your hole and you fall into his shoulder, as he breathes even faster.
Time to run errands for 2 weeks!
Tumblr media
whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.
228 notes · View notes
Note
How do you write so good?
Practice!
Practice and practice and practice.
A bit more in depth tho:
1.) write what you want to write. You are your story’s first audience. You should be entertained by it!
2.) Don’t delete stuff. Save it, put it away, and come back to it in a day or two. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been stumped on something and wanted to delete the whole thing only to come up with an idea a couple days later.
3.) Forget (almost) everything you’ve heard about word choice. “Said” is not something to be avoided at all costs. Words used for transitioning from dialogue to prose in particular are more often to be distracting than they are useful. Nobody cares you used “said” 20 times in a scene.
4.) Write original works! I know fanfiction is fun and gives you characters that are already established, but when you write original stuff you’re so much freer. Nobody can tell you “he would not fucking say that” except YOU!
5.) If you write smut, focus on imagery when it comes to sensation. Don’t just describe the mechanical movements of sex. Focus on describing the actual things the characters are feeling, both physical and emotional.
6.) Don’t beat yourself up for not writing. I’ve not written anything substantial in about 5 months now and it’s really getting to me, but it’s not productive to beat yourself up. You’ll get things done when you come. Don’t force it.
7.) Don’t be afraid of “clichés”. Every work of art is derivative. It’s okay to be blatantly inspired by other works. It’s okay to use tropes other people have done to death. It’s about telling a story you enjoy.
8.) Don’t give into fans. They don’t know what’s good for your story.
9.) Most importantly, have fun and be yourself!
95 notes · View notes
imdead770 · 2 days
Note
anything for Luke and a daughter of hecate, ANYTHING FOR THEM......
had to do my research for this one
for context Hecate is the goddess of witchcraft, magic, ghosts, stuff like that. There's probably more but that's what I got from my one minute google search
I kept this kind of fluffy because I wanted to switch it up, I hope that's okay! If you want smut feel free to request again 🩷
Enjoy!
Luke didn't known much about your mother, most people didn't. She was one of the smaller goddesses. Well, not small, she just wasn't as well known as Athena or Aphrodite. He had heard her name a few times around camp, not thinking much of it. He didn't pay much attention to the name until he realized your own name was associated with it. Whenever you came to camp, eventually getting claimed by Hecate, he started to do his research. He started listening if one of the counselors talked about her or reading more thoroughly if he saw her name in a book. He wanted to learn more about her for one reason; to get closer to you.
Once he learned more about her, he started seeing the resemblances between the two of you. Your long, silky dark hair was exactly how some book described your mother, as well as your overall beauty. If Hecate hadn't of claimed you, it probably would have been Aphrodite. It also made sense why you and some of the Hades' kids were close, you were all connected to the dead. Another thing that made you alike, you were magical. Something about you almost made him feel as if he was put under some sort of spell. Every time you walked into a room, smiling and laughing, it was as if you enchanted him. Every time he was the cause of your laughter, he would melt, almost as if you had cursed him to fall in love with you.
He didn't know how, but your godly parent eventually came up in a conversation. And God's had he prepared for this moment.
"Yeah, she can control ghosts and magic n' all that, right?"
All of that research was worth it. The way you looked at him, your face holding one of your signature, beautiful smiles.
"Yeah... she can. How'd you know that?"
"Uh... I dunno, I've just always found her interesting."
He managed to get out that excuse, you seemed to believe it. Your smile only grew, sending butterflies into his stomach again.
As the two of you kept talking, your mother fading away and the conversation becoming more natural, he was all smiles. He was smiling for a few reasons. One being that he was proud of himself for being productive and learning about your mother. The main reason, though, was you. How your lips moved when you talked, your sing-songy voice leaving them as you joked around with him. He hadn't realized he was starring until you pointed it out.
"Luke? Are you okay? You're like zoning out or something."
"Hm?"
He forced himself to look away from your gorgeous smile, meeting your eyes. They looked stunning. The light hit them perfectly, giving them a magical glow as if your mother was casting a spell from Olympus. As if she and Aphrodite were cursing him to fall head over heels in love and not have a single say in it. Once again he was zoning out, gazing into your eyes like a lovestruck fool. He could've mustered up another excuse if he kept his mouth shut. That only confirmed his theory of being cursed.
"You have really pretty eyes, yknow.."
Shit. He didn't even mean to say that, the words just left his lips. Your mother must've hated him. He wanted to go and dive off the dock and never come back up for air. He was about to go do so until you spoke again.
"Yeah..?"
Since he had been looking down like a flustered idiot, he hadn't noticed the way your smile grew after his words. He hadn't noticed the way your eyes lit up, nor the way you were blushing yourself. Not as badly as him, but you were still blushing.
"..Yeah."
He looked back up to meet your eyes again, finally noticing how your smile became a grin. He couldn't help but mimic the expression, it was infectious.
He didn't notice how you had scooted closer, bit he did notice how you leaned in. He noticed how your beautiful eyes softly closed, and he especially noticed how your lips met his. It all happened so fast, but Gods.. it was magical.
122 notes · View notes
sluts4matt · 7 hours
Text
HIGHER (420 special)
Tumblr media
pairing: bsf!nate x mixed reader
summary: you've celebrated 4/20 every year since you were sixteen with a group of your friends, this year you were bringing one of your good friends nate to the get together. what happens when things take a turn between you two
warnings: SMUT, p in v, semi-public, swearing, making out, use of weed, pet names (use of ma), praising, use of y/n
word count: 2316
authors note: this was supposed to be out last week i'm ngl, i've just been busy and did in fact celebrate 4/20 so i fell asleep before i really got any work in on it.
view my master list here
Tumblr media
april twentieth had to be your favorite day. the day your people got together to celebrate a plant helping them with the cruel world. this year you were happy to say your best friend nate would be joining you and your friends.
you pulled the tank top over your head, looking at yourself in the mirror before grabbing your watermelon flavored lip balm that your friend nick gave you.
you opened the tube, twisting the product up some before smearing it on your lips and smacking them together.
you slid on a pair of shoes, grabbing your pink bag containing pre-rolls and dabs, grabbing your keys and exiting your house. you locked the door and climbed in the driver's seat of your car, pulling away from your house.
you pulled up to the dispensary, walking into the shop. the bell above the door jingled when you pushed it open. "my favorite - shouldn't be here - customer," a girl with curly black hair and tattoos covering her arms smiles.
"hellooo whitney," you smile, walking up to the older woman. "need a new cartridge?"
"i mean... i didn't, i came in here for more dab, i'll be out by the end of the night. but do you have the blueberry kush west coast cure cartridge since i'm here?"
whitney nodded her head, you had come in a while back looking for one, but they didn't have any in stock. "you're in luck, we just got our inventory for the month last week."
you followed the woman to the back, not that you were supposed to be there since it was employees only. "hey, y/n," a guy with a backwards hat and gages greeted.
"hey axel," you greet, stopping behind whitney as she digs through boxes. "how are the babies?"
axel grins, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. "good, my girlfriend took the week off work so she could stay with them."
"ohhh that's so nice," you say. you had seen the twins a few times, even being blessed enough to babysit for a few hours while him and his girlfriend had date night.
whitney let out a small shout of success. "here it is, now, you're going to want to start low and then work your way up. you're a light weight compared to most of our customers."
you roll your eyes at her, "i am not," you huff. "that's not what i saw last time i did your nails," the lady grinned. whitney had been your go to for nails, having practiced while she was in high school.
"whatever," you roll your eyes, following her to the front. she rung up the dab, already knowing what her favorite customer liked and a cartridge. she stopped you before you swiped your card.
you watched as she scanned her badge, giving you a 30% discount. "i'll forever be grateful," you tell her.
"you know it. enjoy, have fun," she winked.
you walked back to your car, placing the white bag in the back before backing out of the parking space. you turned your left blinker on, turning out of the driveway.
the drive to nates house wasn't long, a whopping ten minutes. you pulled up to the curb, not even having time to pull up his contact before he was walking out the door.
you unlocked the doors, nate sliding in the passenger seat. "i hope you're ready to get baked out of your mind," you joke. he let out a small chuckle, taking the grey hood he wore off of his head, leaving him in his pink beanie.
"nice beanie," you muse, pulling away from his house and towards the park.
"thanks," he mumbled. "i'm glad to be going with you, it'll be fun," he smiles. "mhm," you hum, pulling up to the park fifteen minutes later. you turned your blinker on, turning into the parking lot before taking a parking space next to your friend sadies jeep.
"ready?"
"yep," nate replied, climbing out of the car.
you pulled your bag from the back, slinging it over your shoulder and grabbing the white bag before shutting the door. "heyyy," sadie and her girlfriend, emma, greeted getting out of her jeep.
"hey hey," you grinned, the two girls hugging you. "we were waiting for you guys," sadie informed. you nodded your head, starting the small walk towards the group of people.
you had met sadie a few years ago, her girlfriend emma being a family friend of yours. nate had joined the group some months back, the two of you running into each other at dunkin and immediately hit it off.
"hey guys," you greet, everyone saying their hellos. "well let's get the party started then," a girl with dyed red hair stated, pulling a lighter from her bra as she lit up the blunt she had held between her fingers.
a few hours into the gathering, you were happily baked.
you sat between nate and sadie, nates hand wrapped around your waist in order to provide some form of heat for you as you ate the watermelon popsicles someone had brought.
you sucked the tip of it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. nate coughed next to you, you pulled the tip out with a pop, looking at him as he took a deep breath.
"are you okay?" you question, handing him the popsicle. he grabbed it, nodding his head. "i'm good," he choked out.
"alrighty then," you laugh, reaching up and grabbing his beanie, putting it on your own head. you stood, stretching and cracking your joints as you did so. you held your hand out to nate, "wanna take a walk?"
he grabbed your hand, allowing you to help him stand. you turned to your friends, letting them know where the two of you were going, emma and sadie wiggling their eyebrows.
you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder as the two of you started walking, nates hand still holding yours.
"i'm glad you came with me today," you admit, leaning against him.
"so am i," he agrees. the two of you walk in silence, enjoying each others company. you reach a large tree, nate letting go of your hand to climb up it.
"actually?" you giggle, watching the boy jump to wrap his arms around a branch. he looked down at you, a small grin on his face. "come on."
you set your bag on the ground, grabbing a hold of the branch and jumping. nate caught your ankle, helping you climb into the tree. "what are we doing in a tree," you question, leaning against him.
he took the beanie off of your head, putting it on his own. "because i like trees," he shrugs. "oh yeah," you giggle, resting your head on his shoulder. you sit in a comfortable silence, the air around the two of you growing tense.
nate leaned his head against yours, turning his head some so his lips were closer to your ear. "i'm really glad we became friends," he admitted, nudging the side of your neck with his nose.
"me too," you sigh, smiling.
he pressed a small kiss to the side of your neck, making your smile grow. "i'm glad to hear," he mumbled, placing another kiss.
you felt a small amount of heat pool in the pit of your stomach. "we should probably get down," you mumbled, pushing the feeling down.
"probably," he mumbled. you both stood, nate dropping from the tree first. he held his arms up, his hands wrapping around your calves, sliding up as you slid down.
your legs wrapped around his torso as you slid, in hopes to stabilize yourself more as you slid.
the two of you fell back onto the ground, nates hand coming to rest on your back as you laid on top of him. you let out a small gasp, nate's breath fanning your face as the two of you laughed.
"are you okay?" you giggle, lifting your head up some to look down at the boy. "never better," he grins, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips.
he lifted his head up some, pressing his lips to yours quickly before he could talk himself out of it.
you kissed back, his hand moving to grip the back of your neck. his thumb rubbed soothing circles, the kiss not being rushed. you pulled back, looking at him. "can we go to your house?"
"please."
you pushed yourself off of him, helping him up. you grabbed your bag, taking his hand and guiding him back to the party. "hey guys," you smile, catching the attention of the group.
"hey," a few greeted. "hey, um, we're going to head out," nate stated.
"ooohh," sadie grinned, a smirk on her face. "die," you point, earning a giggle from her. "i love youuuu," she yells as you walk away. "i love you too," you yell back, laughing.
the walk to your car was quiet, the two of you walking slowly. you stopped at the passenger side door, opening it for him. "such a gentlewoman," he grins, you rolling your eyes.
you slid into the drivers seat, buckling and starting the car. you pulled away from the park, nate resting his hand on your thigh. his thumb running circles on your thigh.
the air in the car was thick with sexual tension, your breathing a little heavy. nate slid his hand further up, his fingertips grazing your core.
"this okay?" he asked, noticing you let out a shakey breath. "yeah," you breathed, gripping the steering wheel harder.
his finger ran down your core, a small groan escaping his throat. "fuck," he muttered.
"what?" you questioned, glancing at him.
"you're soaking."
you let out a small whine, biting your lip. "pull over," he groaned.
"wha- why," you stutter. "because i don't think i can wait until we get to my house," he mumbles. you bite your lip, pulling off into a hidden part of the road.
"turn the car off," he mumbles, pulling his seatbelt off and sliding his seat as far back as it would go. you turn the car off, undoing your seatbelt and shifting to straddle his lap.
you leaned forward, attaching your lips to his. his hands gripped your waist, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "fuck, can't wait to be inside you," he groaned, kissing along your jaw.
you ground down against him, the two of you moaning in unison. nate slid his hand between the two of you, pushing your skirt up as he undid his pants.
he pulled his member out, stroking it a few times before pushing your underwear to the side. he groaned, your slick coating the head. "fuck, so wet," he groaned.
"all for you," you whispered, nipping his earlobe. he pushed you down, the head pushing into your entrance. "fuck," you squeaked shoving your face into his neck.
"oh shit," he moaned, your walls hugging him. he pulled your shirt and bra cup down, his mouth connecting to one of your nipples.
"fuck, nate," you whined, pulling his beanie off and grabbing his hair. his tongue flicked your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub.
he thrust his hips up, a cry escaping your mouth. "i'm sorry," he muttered, not stopping the shallow thrusts.
"fuck," you cried, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening. "m'close," you moan. "already?" he grinned cockily, a moan escaping his own lips as you tightened around him.
you nodded your head, biting your lip and looking away from him. his hand grabbed your chin, pulling your head to face him. "let me hear that pretty voice," he cooed, thrusting up into you.
your hands rested on his shoulders, his thrusts speeding up. "fuck nate," you moaned. "right there," you cry, throwing your head back.
nate grinned, "right there ma?" he teased, his teeth connecting to your exposed neck. he thrusted into the spot, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
"fuck," you moaned, the coil in your stomach snapping. your orgasm hit, your body shaking in his grasp.
"that's it," he encouraged. he kissed along your jaw, his hips working you through your orgasm.
"wait, shit," you moaned, his thrusts not faltering.
"why," he questioned, a small frown on his face. "cause... i'll cum again," you stutter. "okay, and?" he teased, biting his lip and smirking.
"oh," you moaned, leaning against him. he grabbed your ass, bouncing you in his lap. you leaned forward, connecting your lips to his.
he squeezed your ass, your walls clenching around him. "gonna make me cum," he breathed, his hips speeding up. you bounced with him, your breasts in his face. he kissed the tops of them, his lips moving across the skin.
"nate, oh my god," you moaned, throwing your head back. "so pretty," he breathed, his lips sucking a hickey into the skin above your nipple. "nate," you warned, your second orgasm approaching.
"cum for me," he ordered, his fingers digging into your waist.
you clenched around him, your second orgasm hitting. his hips stuttered, the coil in his stomach snapping as he shot his seed into you. the two of you panted, trying to catch your breaths.
he pressed his lips to yours, his hand roughly tangling in your hair. "so pretty," he murmured, pulling away and kissing along your neck. "such a pretty girl," he breathed, kissing your jaw.
"oh god," you breathed, your heart rate speeding up. nate smiled against your neck, pulling away and pressing his lips to yours. "so pretty," he breathed.
you bit your lip, sliding off his lap and adjusting your bra and skirt. nate tucked himself back in his pants, a blush on his cheeks. "wanna go to your place," you questioned, a shy smile on your face.
"absolutely," he grins. you start the car, buckling and backing out.
Tumblr media
tag list:
@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @etvar12 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolhoe @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @spencerstits @junovrsmp4 @breeloveschris @skyslondon @stars4chratt @monkeyscientist22 @sophssturn @hearts4chriss @l5ka @sturnlovr @blahbel668 @sturncakez @livvy4realll @raysmayhem-72 @jnkvivi
72 notes · View notes
starhoppin · 1 day
Text
pick a picture; your next soul lesson
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3
disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.
Tumblr media
「pile one」
[the lesson]
pleasure (cb: temperance, queen of pentacles rv)
the next soul lesson that you will experience is that you are meant to open yourself up to the good things in life. while i was channeling your energy, i was overcome with an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and stress - i think that is your current energy. there is a message that you're lacking balance in your life; all work and no fun. you may have a tendency to overwork yourself but don't necessarily reap the benefits of what you earn.
[what you are meant to learn]
life is meant to be enjoyed, not endured. you are meant to find the balance between work and play - but right now, you're being encouraged to focus on fun!
[advice]
creativity, invention
indulge in creative outlets. whatever you are called to - music, art, writing - do not worry about if the product is not perfect. simply focus on creating!
if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!
Tumblr media
「pile two」
[the lesson]
self-esteem (cb: nine of cups rv, six of wands rv)
your next soul lesson is rebuilding your self-esteem. i think there was a recent event in your past where you suffered from a significant loss or failure. regardless of what it was, it significantly impacted the way you view yourself. i keep hearing the words "ego death." you may have lost sight of what you wanted to do in life or simply just suffered from a loss of confidence in yourself because of this event.
[what you are meant to learn]
you are meant to learn that outside opinions do not matter. trust yourself; relying on others for validation or approval will only leave you feeling empty when they are not willing to shower you with it. stand up for yourself and your beliefs - you are not meant to abandon yourself in favor of winning the approval of others.
[advice]
grace (cb: the hierophant rv, queen of wands)
it's okay to go against the grain. you're meant to stand out and shine; do not let others dim your light. i heard "give yourself grace." feel your feelings, but do not let doubt or shame consume you. oftentimes when people are openly judgemental, they are simply jealous that they can't be as open and confident as others are.
if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!
Tumblr media
「pile three」
[the lesson]
deprivation (cb: nine of cups, death rv)
i think that there is something that you are ignoring in your life. i get a strong feeling that you are putting up a confident facade that everything is okay in your life - almost like if you keep telling that to others, you will eventually believe it too. i think you are depriving yourself of feeling your feelings and consequently, you are prolonging this cycle in your life. while i was trying to channel your energy, i kept getting distracted by random things. i believe you may be filling your time with countless distractions since you are afraid or unwilling to be alone with your thoughts. i see an image of someone scrolling on their phone while simultaneously watching T.V., as well as someone blaring music through their headphones to drown out their thoughts.
[what you are meant to learn]
invention (cb: six of wands rv, four of swords)
your next soul lesson is that you are meant to allow yourself to rest and feel your emotions. you cannot move past this pain or failure by simply ignoring it. pain demands to be felt, it will not disappear until you acknowledge it. although this isn't the advice section, your guides/universe/spirit are encouraging you to use your preferred creative outlet to express these emotions.
[advice]
devotion
you're being called to spend time in nature. connect back with the earth and take in the natural beauty of the world. it will help.
if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!
Tumblr media
tarot decks used in this reading: ask your guides oracle deck, and the linestrider tarot.
139 notes · View notes
candaceparkers · 12 hours
Text
Tumblr media
candaceparker: 🎶Dear Summer
“I know you gon miss me…” 🎶
I’m retiring.
I promised I’d never cheat the game & that I’d leave it in a better place than I came into it. The competitor in me always wants 1 more, but it’s time. My HEART & body knew, but I needed to give my mind time to accept it.
I always wanted to walk off the court with no parade or tour, just privately with the ones I love. What now was to be my last game, I walked off the court with my daughter. I ended the journey just as I started it, with her.
This offseason hasn’t been fun on a foot that isn’t cooperating. It’s no fun playing in pain (10 surgeries in my career) it’s no fun knowing what you could do, if only…it’s no fun hearing “she isn’t the same” when I know why, it’s no fun accepting the fact you need surgery AGAIN.
I fell in love with a little orange ball at 13 years old and BECAUSE of it my world goes ‘round. The highs are unmatched & the lows taught me lessons. On & off the court I’m proud I’ve always been true & stayed true to ME, even when it wasn’t popular.
I’m grateful that for 16 years I PLAYED A GAME for a living & DESPITE all the injuries, I hooped. I’m grateful for family, friends, teammates, coaches, doctors, trainers & fans who made this journey so special.
In the mean time, know IM A BUSINESS, man, not a businessman. This is the beginning…I’m attacking business, private equity, ownership (I will own both a NBA & WNBA team), broadcasting, production, boardrooms, beach volleyball, dominoes (sorry babe it’s going to get more real) with the same intensity & focus I did basketball.
My mission in life, like Pat Summitt always said, is to “chase people and passions and you will never fail.” Being a wife & mom still remains priority #1 & I’ve learned that time flies, so I plan to enjoy my family to the fullest!
Today’s players: ENJOY IT.
No matter how you prepare for it, you won’t be ready for the gap it leaves in your soul. Forgive me as I mourn a bit, but I’ll be back loving the game differently in a while.
🎶 ”I’m done for now so one for now
Possibly forever, we had fun together
But like all good things, we must come to an end
Please show the same love to my friends, dear Summer” 🎶
73 notes · View notes
beetheweezarddd · 3 days
Text
Tumblr media
im kinda bored so i wanna give yall my personal Nezha headcanons (involving romance)
🪷 is an angry pissbaby and LOVES going on extremely long rants about his day, and appreciates it when you comfort him and/or encourage him in his tea spilling
🪷 he doesn’t dislike PDA, but gets adorably embarrassed and irritated when you or others point out his blushing
🪷 enjoys talking about or showing you his work, willing to take HOURS explaining the nuance of whatever the fuck he does (also enjoys going on long tangents about his interests, such as operas)
🪷 is much more productive when you’re watching him work or just sitting there with him, because he wants to impress you
🪷 is at first extremely flustered and surprised by your first few instances of flirting, but will later surprise you by attempting to match your confidence
🪷 is naturally competitive in general, he WILL constantly try to be better than you at showing affection, doing chores, and making the other blush.
🪷 as he gets used to the relationship, he becomes naturally more playful and flirty with you! (he still remains a flustered and angry little bitch when you’re the one doing it)
🪷 he secretly loves it when you humor him and play along with his competitions
can yall tell im lonely orrrrrr
34 notes · View notes
ilwonuu · 2 days
Note
saw ur posts and i really hope you're feeling okay now! if you feel like writing i wanna ask for some reqs where in the established relationship reader realized just how much jungwoo loves her bcs she's on her periode week and jw is taking care of her nicely without hesitating even adjusting his works and providing his help to accomplish reader's workload. thank you so much i really hope you're doing good and having a happy days ahead <3
thank you so much same for you:( i love this idea bc im always soft for jungwoo<3 thank you for requesting i hope you enjoy hehe,,,
honey
*๑♡՞ kim jungwoo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
ᖗ pairing- established relationship, idolbf!jungwoo x fem!reader
ᖗ warnings- fluffy fluff , mentions of period pain/cramps, reader is not feeling great thru most of this, jungwoo is a sweetheart <3, he loves reader sm bye,,,,lmk if i missed something
ᖗ a/n- hi mls!!! i missed posting and i haven’t written for jungwoo in a while and i think he might be one of my biases,,,anyways i hope u guys enjoy<3 not proofread 😪
Tumblr media
you have been rotting in your bed for hours. you asked your boyfriend to bring you some extra feminine products just incase. he was quick to respond to your text. he sent you a text saying he would be home soon with everything you need. you sighed in relief feeling so thankful for him. you cuddle up into your blankets as you wait for your boyfriend.
you watch whatever dumb dating show you had on earlier. your pain on the first day differs but this time is was painful as hell. you took some ibuprofen but it hasn’t started working yet leaving you to suffer. you hear the front door open making you smile to yourself. you see your boyfriend with a bag from the store.
“i asked you for a couple things- baby you didn’t have to get all this.” you sit up to face him as he brings the bag over to your side of the bed. “i know you did. i wanted to get your favorite snacks and some more stuff just to make sure you have it. i’m sorry you don’t feel good sweetheart.” he sits on the bed next to you. he pulls you into a gentle hug as he rubs your back.
“how was your day other than that? did you rest mostly?” he massages your back looking at you for your response. “it was good. i was missing you all day. i was just watching tv and cleaning a little but i gave up on the cleaning very fast.” you smile at him as he smiles back. “yea? i was missing you too. don’t worry about the cleaning i will take care of it all.” he rubs your cheek softly as you lay against his chest.
“how did you come home so early? i thought you had long schedules today?” the two of you move to lay down under the covers together. he pulls you close as he faces you. “yea i had meetings mostly but we got done like right before you texted me so i was quick to get you things.” his hand is resting against your hip as he gently massages your side. “you’re gonna put me to sleep baby.” you laugh as you close your eyes.
“come here.” he says pulling you to kiss him. you kiss him back quickly melting into the kiss. he holds your side gently as he kisses you softly. “i really missed you.” you pout looking at him. “i really missed you too, honey. you were all i was thinking about during my meetings.” he smiled at you again. he leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead.
“i love you.” you sigh at the cramps you feel. “rest honey. see if you can nap? i love you more.” he looks at you with a soft expression as he helps you get comfortable. he rubs your back softly until you fall asleep next to him. he just smiles as he watches you sleep peacefully.
Tumblr media
jungwoo woke up early that next morning to make sure you had enough food. he made you your favorite breakfast when he saw that you were slowly stirring awake. you watched him bring in your breakfast as you fully wake up. your cramps already kicking you in the ass in the first few seconds of you being awake. you sigh at the feeling but smile at your boyfriend.
“you ok sweetheart?” he sets the food down on the side table as he climbs back into bed. you kiss his lips quickly as you climb out of bed to go to the bathroom. “i’m fine! don’t you worry.” you smile back at him as you quickly use the bathroom. you come to your bedroom feeling a little bit better as you crawl next to your boyfriend. “you didn’t have to make this for me. thank you- wait what time is it don’t you have dance practice today?” you ask as you start eating the breakfast he prepared for you.
“oh yea! i do i just told them i had my girl to spend time with. we pushed it to this afternoon so i can stay with you a little longer. then i can bring home dinner for us!” he smiles at you softly. “how are you feeling though? need medicine, water, anything you need i will get it.” he smiles to himself as he feels the need to help you without thinking about it for a second.
“i’m feeling okay today- my cramps are killing already but i think i just need to finish eating this and it’ll help. thank you baby.” you smile back at him as you continue to eat. “ok. let me know if that changes. as for now i’m here to give you love.” he kisses your head as rubs your thigh softly. you finish your breakfast after a bit with a smile. you look over at your boyfriend to see him already looking at you. you start to tear up as your thoughts start to clutter your head.
“baby? what’s wrong?” his expression is a more serious one as he pulls you closer to him. “n-nothing- i just- you’re being so nice to me. i feel so shitty and here you are making me feel so much better- cooking me breakfast? jungwoo you are too much.” you start to cry as he holds you in his arms. “sweetheart i will do absolutely everything for you. you are my main priority. i don’t need anything else but you. i will always be here when you don’t feel good.” he kisses your cheek as more tears fall from your eyes.
“honey- i love you so much okay? come here.” he pulls you closer to him as he kisses your lips. you kiss him back as you feel him pull away. he kisses your tears and gently wipes them away. “my pretty girl. i love you more than you know.” he smiles at you sweetly as he rubs your hair back. “i-i love you jungwoo.” you sigh into his arms as you stop yourself from letting more tears fall. “you are the best boyfriend i could ask for.” he shakes his head.
“you’re the best girlfriend i could ask for. you deserve the best only you know that. i will never give you less than you deserve. now let’s cuddle until i have to go to practice, i don’t want to leave your side until i have to go.” you laugh at him shaking your head. “what about my online classes? i haven’t done any assignments for this week.” you groan thinking about your work. “don’t worry about it until i leave! when i come back ill help you he smiles kissing your head as you two stay tangled in each others arms for the next hours to come.
32 notes · View notes
afterglowsainz · 6 hours
Note
hi you said you were free to request someone you haven’t mentioned so i’m wondering if you’d be willing to write something for trent alexander arnold?? anything you won’t but i love angsty -> fluff
i look in people’s windows | trent alexander-arnold
summary: you struggle to move on from your break up with trent until one day you have to face him at your favorite coffee shop
warnings: none
word count: 1.2k
a/n: this wasn't very specific which was great (in a way) because the angst to fluff plot gave me an idea for my tortured athletes series! (i also didn't mean to make this so long, but i hope you enjoy it)
the tortured athletes department series
Tumblr media
you're not proud to admit that you still stalk your ex-boyfriend's friends on social media just to see a glimpse of him. it wasn’t that hard considering that you live in liverpool, if you wanted to see his face you just had to go outside and he will be there in any billboard. but there was something more personal about casually watching him on someone’s post. sometimes you just look up liverpool’s account to see him during matches or making fun challenges.
you consider blocking him, blocking his friends and everyone else remotely associated with him, you even did it for two full weeks, but it was impossible not to see him everywhere you look. sure, he was not showing up on your phone, but he was in the streets, he was on the tv playing a game, or acting in a random commercial; he was even in the supermarket next to a product he was the face of.
trent alexander-arnold was absolutely everywhere and he was impossible to escape.
so you unblock him and everyone else and you just see him. not everyday, of course, you weren’t gonna get over him if you stalked his socials every day.  maybe once every week you look up one account, and then another, and then another, and you see him, and once you do you turn your phone off and do something else and maybe, you forget about him for a moment.
sometimes you wonder what would happen if your eyes met one more time. would you realize you got over him? would you fall back in love? would he even say hello?
“what can i get you?” the barista behind the counter asks you.
“hi, an iced vanilla latte, please.” you smile. the guy nods and charges you, moving quickly to the next client.
you sit down in a booth while waiting for your name to be called, and play with your phone in the meantime. suddenly, a huge shadow blocks the natural light that was hitting your face and you shift your face from your phone to the stranger who sits in front of you, only it wasn’t a stranger at all.
“y/n.” trent whispers your name with a smile.
you were a bit shocked to see him in person, like it was the first time you lay your eyes on him all over again.
“hey.” you respond. he chuckles at your lack of words.
“i knew it was you the second i heard your voice.” he points at the register. “an iced vanilla latte as always.” he repeats your coffee order and only then you register the situation.
before you have a chance to say something, you hear your name being called throughout the whole coffee shop, announcing your order was ready.
“stay there.” he says before you have the chance to even stand up. “i’ll go get it.” you didn’t know what to say so you just nodded and he made his way to the front, claiming your coffee and getting it to you.
“thank you.” you say when he was finally in front of you again.
neither of you say anything for a few seconds. you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all, but it did feel odd to be there with him, not saying anything.
“nice jacket.” you mention, just to fill the silence.
“you like it?” he unconsciously touch it and smiles at you like he always did.
“mhm, it's pretty.” you take a sip from your coffee.
“i haven’t seen you in a while. how are you?” he asks.
you were about to answer when you got interrupted again by the barista calling his name to get his coffee. he quickly made his way to the front and back, sitting in your booth in no time.
“what is that?” you ask with a grimace, looking at his order. it was some sort of juice? you couldn’t really tell.
“it’s a pomegranate lemonade.” he shrugs. you arch a brow and he shakes his head smiling. “don’t look at me like that when you drink vanilla flavored coffee.”
a laugh escapes your lips and you just agree, still confused by his drink of choice but not making any more comments.
“how are you?” he repeats his question.
“good.” you lie to him. “you?”
“bad.” he says.
“oh?” this took you by surprise. “what happened?” you try to remember if maybe he lost any big game recently or if something happened to any friend of his, but you can’t remember anything of relevance.
“i just…” he exhales and takes a sip from his lemonade. “i’ve been missing you. a lot, actually. a bit more everyday.”
your face grows hotter by the confession and you just look at him without reacting.
“why are you saying this?” you ask the first thing that comes to your mind.
“because.” he shrugs. “why not? i’ve miss you so much since we broke up i can’t think of anything else, and now i feel like i’ve think you so much i actually manifested you and now we're both at the same coffee shop at the same time, i mean, what are the odds of that, you know?” he rambles and you feel your heart beating in your throat.
to be fair, this was the same coffee shop you both used to go to while you were still dating. and you both still live in the same city. and you’ve been stalking him on social media so you might’ve manifested him as well by accident.
“you woke up brave this morning, didn’t you?” you joke lightly and the shadow of a smile takes over his lips. “i didn’t know you still think about me.” you say instead of confessing your feelings back at him.
“you’re not an easy one to forget.” his eyes clocked in with yours and you felt like everything was the way it used to be.
why did you even break up in the first place? looking at his chocolate eyes you couldn’t even remember anymore. you finally clear your throat to speak, but he interrupts you.
“you don’t have to say anything right now,” he pleads. “i don’t… if you’re gonna say something that’s gonna break my heart for good, i don’t think i’m prepared to hear it just yet.”
his eyes look away from yours, but you’re still watching him.
“i think about you too.”
your voice was barely a whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear it and look at your eyes, straight into your soul.
“we should talk, no?” you knew he was battling a triumphant smile but he kept a straight face for you. you nod. “wanna take a walk?” he points to the window with his head, but you shake your head.
“it’s too cold outside.” you say and he laughs, shaking his head as well.
“you and cold.” he rolls his eyes amused.
“hey.” you slap his arm playfully. “i have sensitive skin.” you defend yourself.
at that moment you felt grateful for this little plot from destiny that had brought you and trent together again. you didn’t have to wonder ‘what if, you didn’t have to avoid seeing him downtown, you didn’t have to look into people's windows anymore. his eyes meet yours one more time, and now you know.
27 notes · View notes
lollytea · 2 days
Note
So... has the new info released more critters in the brain?
It feels like this show was bursting with passionate ideas and creativity from the early stages. It makes me appreciate the final product both for what it is and what it wanted to be, even if there's a lot of things that I'm critical of.
I found the pitch bible SO interesting, though I don't really have anything valuable to comment on. I can see changes that they made that were ultimately so much better (Like making King a child, the inclusion of Gus, Eda's beast curse) but I'm also intrigued by these scrapped ideas. After watching the pilot I was so fascinated by whatever is going on with Eda and the Emperor's Coven. Her jewel is a shock collar?? Hello???
I do like lumity quite a bit but I'm kinda a bit sad that they changed so much about the evolution of their relationship from the original pitch. I genuinely enjoy the setup and the way their lives intertwine. I have to clarify excessively that I don't dislike lumity but there were beats of their development that I found a bit unsatisfying. But judging from this pitch, they originally had a lot of foundation for the relationship. I don't have the words to explain it. I just wish I could have seen the version of lumity that was originally intended.
I kinda like the idea of Lilith as the headmistress of Hexside. Idk something about it just feels right to me. Maybe it's the fact that it more closely links the high school stuff to the main plot, rather than Hexside and the Owl House being like Luz's two separate worlds that only occasionally meet.
THOSE FUCKING HUMANS WHO WERE MUTATED BY LIVING ON THE BOILING ISLES FOR TOO LONG IS INSANE I KEEP THINKING ABOUT THEM. CRAZY WORLDBUILDING SHIT TO DROP
Oh. If you're talking about hunlow specifically, then I have barely anything really. Considering William is 13, I wonder if Paulina would have stayed 14, instead of aging up over the course of the series. So they'd still be around the same age.
Paulina doesn't get nearly as much info in her page as Luz, Amity and William so I don't imagine she was intended to be anything more than a quirky side character.
I don't really care about beta hunlow all that much. It's fun to think about occasionally but their Canon selves are tough to beat. And William is like. An angry infant in my mind, so I'm not prone to thinking of him in romantic situations
I've got this. Do with it as you will
Tumblr media Tumblr media
20 notes · View notes
kivaember · 2 days
Text
SLAPS DOWN SOME FREUD AND RUSTY STUFF. It's just Freud being a freak and Rusty being very alarmed and then very murderous towards him.
Guess you can call this one-sided freud/rusty on freud's side??? i'll leave it for the reader to decide. enjoy!
Arquebus work functions were absolute hell on earth.
It wasn't just the fact that Vespers were paraded around as products rather than employees, it was the fact that Rusty had to stand around and smile vapidly while he had far too many people who he fucking despised talk to him and shake his hand and ask far too many personal questions that weren't relevant to his augmentions or job description at all.
Well, no, technical lie. There were many questions about his augmentations, but they were rarely about their effectiveness in improving his piloting abilities and the like. They were normally things like "is it true that these augmentations extend your life?" or "Arquebus have been advertising the Gen Tens are something that can hit the domestic markets, that they improve the human body in all qualities, is that true?" or "So I hear that one of the biggest risks to augmentation surgery is erectile dysfunction, what do you do about that?" or "Is it true you have to be sterilised?? So you can't get girls pregnant, right?"
There was a reason behind such questions. With the Gen Tens finally out of the experimental stage (as in, they managed to get them to stop killing people) and being extensively field tested in multiple roles, Arquebus had boldly began an advertisement compaign encouraging the domestic sector to invest in augmenting their employees.
Gone were the days where augmentations only benefited soldiers and pilots! With the Gen Tens, the augmentation surgeries were so safe that they could be done far more cheaply than previous generations, and offered a slew of advantageous that would make you a very productive and long-lived worker! The military sector, while booming, was still very restrictive in terms of how many people you can augment until you start scraping the bottom of the poorest barrel, so now Arquebus turned their hungry gaze on the domestic sector.
Arquebus's many subsidaries were going to fall in line, but the executives still had many questions they wanted answers to when spinning up their own advertisement campaigns. What better way to get those answers than from the source? Hence the Vespers, trotted out like good little dogs, barking to the tune that Arquebus wanted, lying through their teeth, telling the corporate vultures what they wanted to hear, all while Rusty hoped they all did get augmented and died horribly from unexpected complications.
Would serve them right.
But it made these work functions an utter horror show for him. Draining. Exhausting. As the initial slew of questioning and socialising began to slow as the alcohol levels rose in everyone's bloodstreams, Rusty was grumpy, tired and had a pounding headache. He kept his smile up only by vividly imagining blowing everyone up with his mind.
"-so the sterility isn't universal?"
"It depends on what you mean by 'sterile'," Maeterlinck answered with a patience Rusty had long ran out of. It was him and her, fielding questions from Executive... Mike Mcfuckhands of Shit Company #69. By this point most people were very drunk, but somehow he and Maeterlinck got ambushed by the one half-way sober executive before they could successfully escape without notice.
(It was one of the few times that Rusty genuinely commiserated with his fellow Vespers. The look of utter despair they had shared had been emphatic.)
"Well, you know..." Mcfuckhands waved his wine glass a little carelessly. Rusty watched with dull eyes as wine spilled over the lip and onto the floor. "You don't need condoms to have some fun, if you know what I mean."
"Well, the augmentations won't protect you from STIs, of course," Maeterlinck said evenly. She was a stronger soldier than Rusty, that was for sure, keeping such a straight face and bland voice. "They'll mitigate the worst of the symptoms, but it won't grant you immunity."
"Oh, er, of course, of course, but, you won't get someone pregnant?"
"No."
save me, Rusty begged whatever deity or demon was listening, save me from this hell.
His prayers were, amazingly, answered almost immediately.
With a chiming tune that was out of place of their swanky surroundings, Rusty's phone began to trill. Leaping upon this opportunity like a starving dog on a bull carcass, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and stepped back.
"Sorry, gotta take this. Important call," he said, ignoring Maeterlinck's dagger stare of 'you cowardly traitor'.
Sorry, Maeterlinck. It was every man for himself out here.
Preparing for it to be a spam call trying to sell him some kind of gizmo or whatever, Rusty answered the call without checking the ID as he strode with purpose towards the ballroom's doors.
"You just saved me from a really painful conversation from some dumbass executive so I'll listen to whatever you're peddling," Rusty said. "What is it this time? A roomba that'll clean your apartment and then suck you off once it's done?"
"...haven't got one of those in my toolbox, but now you've got me interested, V.IV."
Rusty froze comically.
"C-Commander?" he half-squeaked, mortified when Freud started sniggering in that low, throaty way of his. "What- I thought you were a telemarketer! Why're you-"
Wait.
"...why're you calling me?" Rusty asked dumbly. Hesitantly, he started walking again, his confusion eclipsing his mortification. "Is V.II not picking up?"
"Why would I call Snail?"
Because you're the commander and he's your deputy bitch, Rusty did not say.
"To torment him," he said instead.
"...okay, fair," Freud conceded. "But I called you intentionally. You need to ditch that party and return to HQ."
"Is there an emergency deployment?" Rusty asked, easily slipping into business mode. He exited the ballroom, the music and chatter cutting off when the doors shut behind him. The entrance hallway was far quieter and cooller.
"Emergency deployment... eh, yeah, something like that..." Freud said vaguely. "Just hurry up to the hangar. I'll be waiting, V.IV."
He hung up without much as a goodbye, and Rusty pocketed his phone with a frown. He wondered what kind of mission this was, to have Freud directly calling him and circumventing Snail. It must be pretty bad. Maybe Balam had finally managed to reclaim Pluto from Arquebus? They'd been duking it out over that planetoid's chunked remains ever since it had blown up.
(Why had it blown up? Rusty had no idea. Any details pertaining to "Pluto's Cracking" were very vague and buried under impenetrable black ink. Must've been some UEG experiment that went horribly wrong, was Rusty's theory.)
But if it wasn't Pluto... Rusty couldn't think of anything else urgent enough to warrant Freud's calling him during a work function. Well, even if it was something as mundane as acting as his punching bag in simulated spars, it was leagues better than suffering stupid questions from equally moronic executives...
And Freud was a good excuse to hold up if Snail cottoned onto his early departure. Yes, whatever Freud wanted will be worth it.
-
Two hours later and standing outside of the London's city limits in STEEL HAZE, Rusty reassessed his earlier sentiments.
Upon arriving at the hangar after switching out his suit and tie for the Vesper flight suit, Freud had all but chivvied him into STEEL HAZE and ordered him to follow him to a set of coordinates outside of London's city limits. All flight clearances had been given for them to travel in flight configuration over the city, Freud assured, and Rusty, unsure but curious, did as he was told.
The coordinates led them both to a large stretch of absolute nowhere deep in the irradiated wastelands of Earth. The ground was rocky and uneven, large fissures gaping where the crust had split open with tremendous force, and so deep that not even STEEL HAZE's sensors could detect the bottom. A flashing alert for unsafe levels of radiation blinked at the bottom of his HUD, the value registering around 7Gy - potent enough to give him acute radiation poisoning if he opened his cockpit hatch. The sky as well was an unsettled shade of rust, the reddish brown dust that coated everything hazing the air due to the constant blistering winds.
It boggled the mind to think some humans did actually live out in these wastelands, somehow, and even more boggling that the Rejuvenated cities were functioning oases where it was easy to forget the state of the world beyond their towering walls.
Honestly, looking at the wasteland around him, Rusty couldn't help but feel relief that Rubicon wasn't this bad. Yeah, the climate was stuck in the middle of an ever deepening ice age in some parts, and majority of life had been rendered extinct... but the atmosphere was irradiated, plants still grew without aid, there was still rain and groundwater and other signs of defiant life. Earth didn't have that. Outside of its fake movie sets that were those cities, the whole planet was straight up dead.
Just completely, totally, utterly dead.
"Right, yeah, this'll do..." Freud hummed. "Some good cover, wide open space, far away enough that those Peacekeepers won't get involved..."
Ominous words.
"Hey, Commander?" Rusty said.
"Yeah?"
"Are you planning on murdering me out here or something?"
Freud didn't immediately answer. Slowly, LOCKSMITH swivelled around to face STEEL HAZE, but its weapons remained inactive and the Scudder rifle was pointing downwards towards the ground. Rusty still kept his finger close to his trigger, though, his implants ready to engage his FCS the second LOCKSMITH so much as twitched wrong.
"......is that what you're into?" Freud finally asked.
What. "What?"
"Hey, no judgement on my part. I get that there's a bit of excitement at consensual attempted murder-"
What???
"Uh- no? No??" Rusty stuttered, unsure on how Freud even made that bizarre leap of logic. "I'm not- that's not why I asked! You just-"
Freud cut him off with a horribly obnoxious laugh. "You're so easily flustered, V.IV! I'm just yanking your chain. I know you're a good little tamed wolf."
Rusty huffed, his face feeling uncomfortably hot. "With someone like you, it's hard to tell, commander. You've always had unique tastes."
"Ooooh, looks like this wolf's muzzle can slip loose," Freud purred. "Perfect. That'll make this more... fun."
STEEL HAZE's sensors picked up LOCKSMITH's weapon systems coming online. Functioning purely off instinct, Rusty activated his own and snapped STEEL HAZE's arm right up, its SAMPU machine gun aimed squarely at LOCKSMITH's Core - just as LOCKSMITH's Scudder rifle pointed at him.
"You didn't even blink," Freud murmured. "Good."
"I've always been quick on the draw, commander," Rusty said lightly, maintaining V.IV Rusty's confident, airy mein all while his mind raced frantically, trying to figure out if he had slipped up somewhere, if Freud had cottoned onto his true nature. Had he really called him out here to get rid of him? Well, least Freud offered him a fighting chance - better than being vanished by the Peacekeepers in the middle of the night.
"Yeah. Your reaction times in the sims were always somewhat impressive..."
LOCKSMITH started to sidestep. STEEL HAZE matched it. They began to circle each other.
"But sims are rarely indicative of a pilot's true skill," Freud said conversationally, like they weren't holding guns in each other's faces. "It's only when they're really under pressure that they show their true abilities."
"Is that what this is?" Rusty asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. "You want to see me perform under pressure?"
"You half-ass your spars in the sims." Freud's voice went flat - almost cold. "You can clearly do better, but you don't. You pretend to be less skilled than you really are, and it really, really, really pisses me off. So this is what we're going to do."
With its free hand, LOCKSMITH gestured to their surroundings. "We're going to fight here and now. If you don't give me your all, I'm going to crack your cockpit open like an egg. What's the ambient radiation level right now? 7Gy?"
"Yeah," Rusty said flatly.
"Hm, that means you'd have about ten minutes before you start vomiting your guts out and your intestines try to escape your body through your asshole," Freud said, so matter-of-fact. "I think it'd take, what, a few hours before you start bleeding from every orifice?"
It'd be a horrible way to go. Rusty felt his pulse pick up a little. "Did Arquebus HQ authorise this 'test', commander?"
"I always ask for forgiveness than permission from HQ, and they always forgive me," Freud laughed, but there was something strangely bitter about it. "You can be replaced, anyways. Now."
LOCKSMITH's head tilted fractionally.
"Fight like the cornered wolf that you are, V.IV," Freud murmured. "Let me see those fangs of yours."
And before Rusty could respond, LOCKSMITH fired.
-
In the end, the decision was easy to make.
Though Rusty had told himself he'd try to conceal his true skill as much as possible, even at risk to himself, when his back was really pushed to the wall and he had to choose between dying and keeping his cover, or fighting back like a cornered animal desperate to live and blowing everything, Rusty didn't really have to think about it.
He fought back with everything he had. He bared those fangs. He pushed himself to his very limits, Freud matching him every step of the way, pushing him and pushing him, until their ammunition was spent and the generators were close to overheating, their battle tearing up new scars along the cracked earth and leaving chunks of of themselves behind.
The fight didn't end in a draw so much as they wordlessly came to a mutual halt several tens of metres apart. LOCKSMITH was missing an arm - a casualty to Rusty's laser slicer shearing the limb off at the shoulder - and parts of its armour was warped and dented from STEEL HAZE's plasma missiles eating through the military grade steel. The Scudder rifle had been tossed aside a while back, and LOCKSMITH's fingers on that hand were partially crushed from where it had slugged STEEL HAZE in the gut at full force. Rusty was still feeling the ache from that even now.
He wished he could say STEEL HAZE was in a better state, but the fact was the AC was barely functioning. Its right arm was useless - Freud's revenge for LOCKSMITH's dismembered arm - and STEEL HAZE's ablative armour was stripped down to nothing, revealing the dull, gunmetal grey base armour underneath, scorched and scratched from deflected rounds or glancing blows from the MORLEY grenade launcher. Rusty had sacrificed many of STEEL HAZE's functionality to defend the Core at all costs, knowing it would take only one minor breach of the Core block to have him dying from acute radiation poisoning.
If they continued to fight, Rusty would lose. That was cold, hard fact, and he was braced for it, braced for overloading his own generator and latching onto LOCKSMITH if need be, if only to drag Freud into his grave with him, but instead after a long, charged pause, LOCKSMITH's weapon systems deactivated.
Rusty kept STEEL HAZE's active.
"...that's more like it," Freud murmured. His voice had a distinct breathlessness to it that Rusty tried to ignore. "You were glorious, V.IV. Vicious, fast, and decisive. You almost killed me a few times, might've if luck had been on your side."
"You sound disappointed," Rusty gritted out, not bothering to pretend to be V.IV Rusty. "Don't tell me this was some fucking convoluted suicide attempt."
Freud laughed - no, cackled. "Suicide attempt? You still think you can beat me right now?"
Rusty swallowed down his pride, sensing a trap in Freud's breathless, wild voice. He clenched his jaw, bared his fangs in a snarl that Freud couldn't see but definitely hear as he growled: "Not right now. But one day."
"One day. One day, you might be able to." Freud inhaled deeply, and let it out slow. "Yeah, one day."
Rusty waited, his pulse still thumping like a drum in his ears, STEEL HAZE poised to lunge, teetering on a tripwire. After a long, long pause, where Freud audibly pulled himself back under control, folding back his wild, deranged true self into the far more socially acceptable lines of V.I Freud, Vesper, LOCKSMITH turned away.
"Well, I think we've been gone long enough. Come on, V.IV. Let's go back."
Freud didn't wait. He launched LOCKSMITH upwards and boosted back towards the city, the AC travelling at a much slower speed than its flight-configuration allowed. Its armour integrity was likely hanging on by a thread, much like STEEL HAZE's.
Rusty reluctantly followed him but kept his distance, still trying to figure out what the fuck that had been about. Freud had always been a bit of a mystery, but it turned out he was fucking insane and couldn't be trusted to be normal at all. Who the hell invited someone out into the middle of nowhere to goad them into a fight to the death?! What was wrong with this guy?!
i better be careful around him, Rusty thought agitatedly. Freud now knew his true skill - had known he'd been holding back for a long while, it seemed. Had he shared this information with anyone else? Was he onto Rusty, or was he so fucking nuts that he only cared about being cheated out of a good spar in the sims? Was Rusty going to be called out into the irradiated wastelands to fight him again? Should he complain to Snail about this?! Would Snail side with him out of his hatred for Freud, or with Freud out of his hatred for Rusty???
And more importantly...
...
Who was going to authorise STEEL HAZE's repairs... since this wasn't an official sortie, then... then this might come out of... Rusty's wages...
...
i'm definitely going to kill him, he decided, cold with an intense, deep fury, maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day, i'm going to fucking kill him.
18 notes · View notes
creation-help · 6 months
Text
"Wah this section of worldbuilding I'm doing is so minute and kinda pointless to the larger scheme of things, hurr durr I'm just focusing on some whatever part when I have actual story and plot to figure out-" WHO CARES. YOU ARE THE GOD OF YOUR UNIVERSE. HAVE FUN CREATING IT.
930 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
couple of mello + near doodles
60 notes · View notes
malcolmreeds · 9 days
Text
naur the watcher going to a streaming service news has pissed me off so bad like .... 'anyone and everyone can afford it' how can yall be so out of touch with your audience for real 💀
25 notes · View notes
kikizoshi · 2 months
Note
can we form a coup against asagiri and make you the writer instead? genuinely... I am not taking the Fyodor immortal information well.. please help............................ ( ´,_ゝ` )
Oh, I would absolutely not do BSD well either. I just wish Asagiri had stuck to his roots more. He was a great comedy writer, and the beginning of the story was great for it. It's the action and Death Note stuff he can't seem to get mastery of. But for the immortal part: I'm not entirely sold that Fyodor's immortal, yet. It seems like yet another twists that will twist to reveal oh, shocker, he faked his memories to confuse Sigma/the ADA... or something. Could very well be immortal, but not 100% guaranteed.
#bsd#anon#I still support his right to write his story however he wants#and a lot of people seem to enjoy this sort of shock-value shounen writing he's doing now#I just happen to hate that sort of story#so when BSD pivoted to that I was dragged along into it because of Fyodor and Nikolai#and get salty whenever characters who own a part of my heart and soul are subjected to bad shock writing#and yes I know the version of them that I love the most exist within my own perception#and are a product of the years I've spent working on and developing them for my own stories#but I still love and adore the originals too#and so it's painful and irritating#because the characters are no longer the main focus of the story#it's all about the shock... the next biggest thing#Nikolai's doesn't have a motive to be the ferryman I need to get all the characters in the same place/start the next arc? No problem!#he just wants to kill Fyodor now. problem solved.#how did he use his Ability to get Sigma to France when his Ability only travels 30m at a time?#eh don't worry about it. I made an omake about it so you know I know it's an absolute joke#Nikolai's whole character and Ability practically changed just for convenience... for the story and shock#so as a fan of character-based stories it hurts that sometimes characters just aren't respected at all#with Fyodor I know it's more a case of Asagiri's vision of him seems to have changed as the story progressed#in that realm I'm so happy that BSD is serialised because it means I still have the initial version of Fyodor that I loved with all my hear#when I really can't stand Meursault!Fyodor at all and wish he would just die already so I could be fully free
22 notes · View notes