#edge of night spoilers

[lucyfloyenworkshop]

Fading light

More Diasomnia Arc goes on, more I wanted to do an illustration with Malleus's Overbolt form inspired by one of Evylind Earle's Maleficent concept art for Maleficent and Sleeping Beauty. When I started to sketch some ideas, Part 4 has been released and... I wasn't expected so such angst, such much sadness. There was since the beginning of that Arc but... It's just... I cannot find the words. Certainly, with Idia, Malleus's Arc is and will one of the most saddess and emotional.

I think that the song To Edge of Night fits well with all of this...

While Malleus becoming that dangerous, dark Dragon-Fea Lord, like in old fairies tales, he try desperately to protect the lasts gleam of light... The ones of his family, friends and love ones... Even if the price to pay is that all in plunged in darkness and dream world...

"Through shadow, To the edge of night. Until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow. Cloud and shade. All shall fade. All shall... fade "

Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King, "To the Edge of Night", Howard Shore and Billy Boyd

Artwork belong to @lucyfloyenworkshop

. Please don’t use/repost/trace my artworks and OCs without my permission

. Reblog and likes are welcomed :-)

[katkat030]

finally getting a chance to sit down and read the hotguy comic zine and oh my goddd.

striking me that Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down is very, very much a Hotguy-like song

[all-thestories-aretrue]

Soooooo I wrote this incredibly self-indulgent thing about Miles. I have many feelings about how he keeps himself so tightly in control. It's gotta go somewhere.

Disclaimer it's quite dark, so mind the trigger warning and keep yourself safe <3

TW: self-harm, not what I would consider graphic descriptions, but it is the central theme and way more than a mention

The lock clicks. He slips his suit jacket off. Loosens then removes his tie. Untucked, buttons undone. It’s all laid out on the bed. Step by step. Shoes set to the side and trousers swapped for silken pajama pants.

The bathroom door closes behind him. The second lock between him and the world. The shower comes on. Towel laid out on the counter.

His drawer, second down on the left. He pulls out the small black bag. Gold zipper. Supple leather. Inside, his collection. Three packs of new razor blades. An open pack of blades; used ones tucked into the back. A single hypodermic needle. A crafting knife. Two unopened band aids.

The rest of the drawer’s contents is ignored, antiseptic and suture kits, butterfly closures and rolls of gauze, in favor of practiced hands sliding the tin of blades from the bag and the blade from the tin.

He sits on the toilet, lid down. Elbow straight. Fist clenched. The first slice with a small inhale. Bright and sharp and stinging. Familiar and comforting. Line after line as red blooms from the wounds. The ecstasy second only to the Kiss. Rivulets follow gravity down. Strategically placed tissues catch the mess.

Stained crimson, they fall into the waste basket. He flexes his wrist, testing the pull of the broken skin, blots the last of the blood away. Blade inspected and stowed; everything returned to it’s place. Pajamas folded on top of the toilet, he steps into the shower.

[daisjohnsons]

Ulf stop stressing my boy out

[comixandco]

do you think fcg thought the world was flat because somewhere in their corrupted memory banks there was programming warning him away from the edges of the floating cities?

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

So. Can we all agree that if the boy isn't Kevin (or related to him in any way), we will riot [joke] [but seriously if this is just more edging it's going to feel pretty cheap]

[brainrothawks]

Look at hawks with his angel wings, im going to legit have a breakdown

[asydicsydney]

WTNV 231 "The Terminal" liveblog

(This is straight from my notes app, during the show, no pausing)

What's wrong with the theme???

Lubelle alive.. still under the cow

IRE land >:(

"Sensory exploration chamber"

"Ask your doctor why"

"You now belong to the state"

BANDIT A BLUE HEELER

NY is hotter than NV??

Las Vegas few hours away

SCIENCE IS LEGAL

Back to California? Your in California

During the weather I updated the cold open book... "All dogs go to eleven" 211? Howl? Barks Ennui?

"We're gonna make Spain the 51st state" :0

"Stay tuned next for the shattering of the sound barrier, and probably your windows too :)"

Meg!!!

THE ATTIC IS THE LIVE SHOW

[magpigment]

finally got to episode one season two of prime defenders! my thoughts so far ^^ :

dakota :(

mallard >:((

[softly-sage]

i’ve seen some mixed reviews about episode 4 so far and i just have to say that i loved it so freaking much. it was probably one of my favorite tarlos episodes so far, and i just-- it was just so good?

warning 4x04 spoilers. 

okay granted, i don’t really care about owen and his storyline this season. not to mention his failure of being a father time and time again, but that isn’t what i would like to focus on. 

tarlos--and the entire storyline of carlos’ secret, and iris, and then carlos being kidnapped turned out so much better than what i had expected. when i found out carlos’ secret was that he was married, i was in disbelief and i was just plain upset. but the payout of the intimacy and love that carlos and tk have for each other was just so beautiful. 

the way that tk just knew that something was wrong with carlos. that carlos wouldn’t just go AWOL and not respond to him, even if they were fighting. the way he bothered nancy into checking in at the hospital because he just had to make sure that carlos was okay. 

tk used all of the people that he could think of in his life to help him find carlos. he called his dad, called grace, went over to reyes’ house. the way tk was even more of a detective than an actual detective and texas ranger, and was ultimately the one who led them to the kidnapper/serial killer. 

GOD how he was the one to revive carlos?? i’m just---

and then let’s talk about carlos, and how even though he was kidnapped and facing almost certain death, his first thoughts were of tk. how he waited and made sure tk was away from the house before he started screaming for help so that he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. how he said that some of the love he feels must come from gwyn because he just feels so much love for tk.

and let’s we cannot forget to mention:

“thank you for saving my life.”

“you saved your own life. i was just hanging onto it for a bit.”

“it’s yours.”

THE MOST ROMANTIC LINE TONIGHT.

and all of the parallels? with tk reviving carlos paralleling to 1x01 when owen revive tk. and the “are you going to ride with him?” i’m just--

i really freaking loved this episode and the love that carlos and tk have for one another. it really shined through this episode and just reinforces, even when they are fighting/disagreeing, their love will always triumph. 

[strawberrysapphocake]

When they started talking about how much Carson loves Survivor and how young he is and then everyone said how proud they were of him, I was about 90% CERTAIN he was going home… but my boy lives on to play another day!!!!!

Survivor Editors, I applaud you; I just experienced one of the best pieces of reality television I’ve ever seen and I am overjoyed /gen.

This is why I love this show so much. It never ceases to be exciting, even after 44 seasons.

[grimbeak]

dont even talk to me right now

[shadowwolf146]

Okay. This was SUCH A COOL EPISODE!!! IM SCREECHING!! AND WE GOTTA WAIT ANOTHER WEEK TO SEE IF UT REALT WORKED??!! WILL IT BE OUR LAUDNA? WTF HAPPENED!!! HGHDJSKKWNFBDMAKN

AHHHHH Matthew you amazing and frustrating person!! 😭😭😭

I literally have to work in like 5 hours, but it was fucking worth it!! Love you gang, be good to one another, gnight!! Our witchy bitches will rise again next ep I hope!!

Be careful out there, and don't worry it's almost Thursday!!

[jesuistrestriste]

♡ Nice Guys Finish Last; Art Donaldson x Reader ♡

nsfw! (18+) cw: soft dom!art donaldson, sub!reader, afab/fem reader, porn w/ a little plot, penetrative sex, unsafe sex/pullout method, slight edging (reader!receiving), equal desperation, praise, general filth, art is a softie until he's not

wc: 4.2 k

*does not include challengers spoilers!*

prev. art donaldson fic : <3 here <3

It was currently 11 PM in the state of New York, and Art Donaldson was in your hotel room.

-

Earlier today, you had competed in a long singles tennis tournament for a cash prize, and had beat every other girl in the bracket. You walked away from it with five-hundred more dollars in your pocket than you had walked in with, and a smug grin on your glossy lips.

Art Donaldson had competed in a similar tournament at the same venue, except it involved doubles teams playing against one another. He had played with his typical partner, Patrick Zweig, and they, too, had beat everyone in their bracket.

Tomorrow, they would be playing against one another to determine the ultimate winner.

You had watched them play, and they had watched you play too.

After the venue had shut down for the night, you had begun to wander back to your hotel a few blocks away and coincidentally bumped into the two boys heading back to the same building.

You three talked--or rather, they had buttered you up with compliments as you all went up the elevator, and suddenly you were in their hotel room drinking cheap beer from cold metal cans.

They both flirted relentlessly with you for about an hour or two, before Patrick had called it a night (and had given up on trying to woo you) and told you and Art that he was going to sleep.

Art had given you a look and nodded towards their room's door with a small smile, silently suggesting something. Thirty seconds later the both of you were standing alone in the hotel hallway. He chatted you up and praised your tennis-playing for about ten more minutes, his blue eyes staring into yours with an earnest desire to hold your attention. You had laughed and flushed with a nervous heat while he sang your praises, and then a bout of silence came over the two of you. He looked down to his shoes, letting out a soft chuckle, and then back up to your eyes.. and then down to your lips. The buzz of the fluorescent lights above made the silence seem more tense than it already was.

After tossing the reality of this interaction around in your head, you had realized that his kind, sensitive, charming persona was effectively rendering you weak in the knees..

"You're really pretty, by the way.. i don't know if i've said that yet, but you are," he had spoken in the hallway, leaning his shoulder against the wall as a lock of his strawberry-blonde curls hung in the center of his forehead.

And that was it.

Five minutes later he was in your hotel room.

-

The both of you kicked your shoes off in the doorway, and then moved to sit on the edge of your hotel room bed. Your chest and hands felt strangely hot as the young, talented tennis player sat there next to you. After a few moments of shared bashful glances, you started to notice things about him that you hadn't before.

Sometimes when he smiled, only one corner of his lips would lift up. When that happened, it looked more like he was smirking than he was smiling, which made him seem either disingenuous or disinterested -- even though it seemed that neither of those things were true.

He smelled like generic aftershave, faint sweat, and warm skin, which was a pleasant contrast to the smell of the hotel room. While the hotel was clean, it was also old, which made the permeating scent of the carpet akin to something like the stale basement of a childhood home.

He fidgeted subtly with his hands, staring into your eyes before averting them to look around at your luggage and tennis bag on the floor.

"So.. you said you're going to Stanford this fall, right?" you say, leaning back on your palms.

"Yeah, yeah," he nods, turning his head to look back to you again with a sheepish smile, “and you’re going to Harvard?”

“Mhm,” you hum, smiling back at him, “is Patrick going with you?”

He laughs a little, his brows furrowing, “Patrick? Hell no.”

You shake your head, “why not?”

“Patrick isn’t the college type. He wants to go pro immediately.”

“Ohh.. right, i forgot he mentioned that.”

“Yeah,” Art shrugs, still giving you a soft look as he shifts a little in his spot on the end of the mattress.

“I think you’re better off at Stanford without him,” you tease slightly, a playful smirk on your face.

He smiles wider, “Why?”

“I think he’d just get you into trouble,” you chuckle.

Art laughs again, a tiny bit harder than he did before, and you’re not sure if it’s because he genuinely likes your playfulness or if it’s because he’s a little nervous.

"You don't think I can cause trouble?" he asks with a small smile.

You shake your head after letting a soft giggle bubble up and out of your chest in response.

"Nah, not really."

"Why's that?"

"You're just so.. so nice."

He scoffs lightly and gently rolls his eyes, reaching up to tuck some of his messy hair behind one of his ears. He chews a little on the inside of his cheek.

"What?" you laugh.

"Everyone me and Patrick meet thinks he's this cool 'bad-boy' and I'm just this.. meek little 'nice guy'," he chuckles, matching your body language now by also leaning back on his palms.

Your smile falters slightly when he does this, but only because now the sleeve of his gray tee shirt was brushing against your bare shoulder, and your faces were a short distance apart. If you tried, you could probably just lean in and kiss him..

"It's not a bad thing to be a nice guy," you smirk, continuing your guys' little back-and-forth.

"Yeah, but there's, like, connotations behind that idea of a guy."

"What 'connotations'?"

He lets out a stiff chuckle, averting his eyes down to his legs before he returns your eye contact once again as he speaks, "I don't know.. that I'm 'shy', or that i 'cant be assertive'.."

You smile, feeling another wave of warmth creep over your stomach just from the way he was looking at you. His eyes were soft but steadily looking into yours, and each second felt like three years.

"So you're saying that those assumptions aren't true?" you tease gently, subtly moving to lean your shoulder against his. He noticed this immediately.

"God!" he laughs, slightly offended but still playing along, "do they seem true?"

"No," you say a bit softer with a smile, your eyes unintentionally drifting down to his pink lips. He noticed this too.

"Okay, good," he leans in a little more, your lips only a handful of inches apart now ".. 'cause they're definitely not."

"Really?" you chuckle, still teasing him.

He nods, "Really, really."

You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your ribcage, and then you started to wonder if he could hear it. Your lips part, little breaths being let out as you lean in an extra two inches. He smirks, and then you feel him move his right hand off of the bed and over your thigh. Its gentle and almost hesitant; giving you the opportunity to say 'no' if you wanted to.. but you didn't. you definitely didn't want to say no.

Your breathing hitches a little and your thighs shift slightly to capture his fingers between your limbs, and he looks steadily into your eyes as his digits squeeze your flesh softly.

"I'm not that shy," he murmurs lowly.

And then his lips are on yours, hot and hungry and eager to please. Your brows furrow as you kiss him back with equal ferocity, and his other hand moves to gently cup your cheek.

His tongue lathes over your bottom lip, and you open your mouth wider so that he can slide it in and taste you better. He groans softly against your smooth, parted lips, his hand between your thighs sliding up to press his palm against your clothed heat. A shaky, barely audible moan escapes your lips as this happens, and he swallows it down as he kisses you harder.

Art's hands then move to slide under your athletic tank top, and he pulls away with lidded eyes to mumble lowly and warmly against your jaw, "can I take this off?"

You nod feverishly, breathing heavily, as you lift your arms above your head while he pulls your shirt up and over. He tosses it aside once it's off like it's trash to him, and then he's diving back in to kiss and suck and nip at your neck. You're sure that he'll leave marks, but you can't find the strength or willpower to deny how hot it would be to look in the mirror later and see all of the little red blotches that his pretty mouth left behind. A few soft "ahh"s and "oh"s slip from your parted lips as his tongue flicks over your pulse point like its a clit, and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing. Without further warning, both of his hands slide up to grope your breasts over your sports bra, and your back arches instantly.

"I want to see more of you," Art whispers against your neck, one of his hands moving back to gently grope your thigh right under the hem of your shorts, while his other starts to hook one of his fingers under the elastic band of your bra.

"Yeah, yes," you mumble and nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel his silky tongue lap gently over the sensitive spot on your lower neck again.

He pulls back, his lips shiny with his own saliva, and he lets out a small huff of air as he stands up from the bed and shifts to stand in front of where you're trembling on the edge of it.

Your eyes meet his, and you now fully realize that his whole "nice guy" thing was a facade.. maybe it was just a protective cloak he put on until he got comfortable..

Regardless, he looked different now as he stood in front of you, breathing heavily as his gaze drank in the sight of your body. He takes a step closer, his knees touching the end of the bed as his legs stood steadily between yours. He looks down, shifting his left knee to push your legs farther apart, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to stifle a whine.

Not a moment later, he's reaching down to pull your tight sports bra over your head. It drops from his grasp onto the floor, his breathing hitches as he looks down at your exposed chest, and then his hands are moving to roughly knead and squeeze at your soft flesh underneath his palms. You shudder and bite your lip. He thumbs your nipples.

His eyes move back up to return your gaze, and he leans down and starts to crawl on top of you, his body gently coaxing yours to lay back flat over the patterned comforter. You don't need a verbal cue from him to know what he wants and what his goal is; his body did all the talking -- just like it did when he played tennis.

"Fuck," he breathes out, his erection straining against the inside of his boxers as it presses against your bare abdomen. A lift of your hips is all the indication he needs from you to tell him that you're as desperate for this as he is right now, and so he gingerly begins to slide one of his hands down the front of your shorts. His touch dips under the waistband, and then before you can process the sensation, you realize that he's moving down into your panties too. One thing that you are painfully aware of, though, is the fact that he never tries to break eye contact while he does all this..

"Ahh.." you moan, your brows pinching up as you feel his warm fingertips brush over your throbbing, sensitive nub. He was hardly touching you, but it was enough to get the fire roaring in your guts. It was more than enough. He knew all the right ways to touch you.. and all the right spots to squeeze and caress.. which seemed crazy considering you two had never spoken to one another until about three or so hours ago.

He smiles gently, his eyes now moving to gaze down at your lips. The pads of Art's fingers begin to play with your clit, rubbing soft and incessant circles over the ball of nerves as you start to squirm on the bed. His head leans back down to kiss your neck and your hands shakily grab onto his shoulders. A laugh escapes him, coating your flesh in a bath of warm air, while he feels your nails dig into him. Even over the fabric of his cotton tee shirt he can feel this, and he winces slightly before the sting of your grip dissolves into pleasure and he starts to moan along with you.

A few more minutes of this go on, and the band in your stomach is stretched more and more until it feels like it's about to snap, and then-

"I really want to fuck you right now," Art murmurs against your skin, his fingers coming to a pause as he pulls his face from the crook of your neck to look down into your dazed eyes.

You blink a few times, feeling the numbing pressure in your pussy start to fade as he unintentionally edges you.

"yes, please.. I want you to.." you softly whimper, your hands reaching up to needily tug at his shirt.

"I don't have a condom," he whispers breathlessly, shaking his head softly as his gaze falls onto your lips now.

"I.." you pause, taking a second to breathe as you attempt to think over the predicament you're now in, "uhm.. I- well, I don't really care.. as long as you pull out.."

It's almost as if just the idea of him being able to be inside of you-- skin to skin; raw--sets him off, because the moment the words leave your mouth, he's letting out soft breathy moans and grinding his clothed pelvis against your thigh. You can feel him throbbing through the fabric, and now you're certain you can't wait much longer. Neither can he.

Your hands pull on his shirt again, forcing his face back down close to yours, "I want you inside of me.."

A groan and a grunt later, he's scrambling to pull his shirt off, and then his shorts, and then his strong calloused hands are gently tugging yours down as well. Art doesn't want to waste time on the act of undressing. Sure, he liked being tender and going slow most times, but this occasion was different. The more that he felt himself leaking into his underwear, the more he needed to feel your silky cunt grip around his cock. Maybe if he got your number after all this, he could go slow next time, but not now. Not when he's like this and you're like that.

When your panties are pulled down with your shorts, Art lets out a groan as he sees the fabric connecting with your delicate flesh via a glistening string of arousal from your heat.

"Jesus Christ," he huffs, his tongue moving to dip out over his bottom lip involuntarily. He pushes your shorts and panties down the rest of the way, and you urgently kick them off onto the room's carpet.

After he moves back up, one of his hands reaches down once again to your cunt. His fingers gently brush over your slicked-up folds, causing your body to jolt and shudder as you struggle to remain quiet. In the next instant, you feel his touch leave your body and you watch in awe as he brings his digits up to his lips and sucks your juices off of them. He rolls your wetness around over his tongue and his eyes roll back a little. He can't help it -- you just taste so fuckin' good.

"Art," you whisper, your voice dissolving into a soft whine, "c'mon.. just- I want you to-"

You're cut off when the man hovering over your form moves his fingers from his mouth and down to yours, effectively shutting you up.

"Suck," he whispers.

You do as you're told instantly, parting your lips to engulf his middle and ring finger in wet heat; your drool pools over his fingertips as your tongue swirls around them and tastes the mix of his saliva and the remnants of your arousal.

He watches with bated breath as you do this, his eyes never leaving your face, and he cant stop himself from pushing his hard, clothed dick against your bare cunt. Your eyes flutter. A string of whimpers echo out into the room from your chest, and you can feel more of your wetness slide down from your entrance.

Art keeps his fingers in your mouth as he uses his other hand to pull his hard-on out of his black boxer briefs, groaning as he taps your clit with the tip of it a few times. Each time his leaking cockhead touches your sensitive parts, your hips buck up. He didn't think it was physically possible to get as turned on as he was right then.

He shifts his pelvis back so that he can slide his dick over your sticky body, not pushing in quite yet, but just teasing your greedy hole. The feeling of your heady moans around his fingers cause them to vibrate, and he leans down close to your face on instinct.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes blink open and you whimper as he uses his digits to gently force your lips to part so that he can shove his tongue past them. Art licks at the inside of your mouth, groaning while he subtly removes his fingers and brings them down to your clit once more. He slots your bundle of nerves between his index and middle finger, sliding them up and down to effectively stroke over your most sensitive area as you feel his cock prodding at your hole.

While his tongue laps over yours, his mouth eagerly swallowing the obscenely loud moans you're letting out as your climax approaches once again, he begins to slide his tip into you. Your eyes instantly open wide before your face scrunches up in pleasure and your hands desperately paw at his shoulders.

He slides in another inch.

And another.

And then two more.

And then he bottoms out completely, filling you wholly with his twitching length as he pulls his face back from your lips to gasp softly.

You look up at him as his brows furrow, and you wriggle underneath him as he lets out a soft growl.

"You're so tight.. shit, you feel so good," he murmurs lowly, his eyes on yours as he starts to slide himself slowly back out before thrusting back in. You can feel him hit your cervix. You'd let him bruise it if he wanted to.

And he wants to.

"Fuck me harder," you moan softly.

"Yeah?" he smirks, breathing heavily.

"Yeah."

He leans up so that his back is straight, and he gazes down at you while he slides his hands under your form to gingerly cup your lower back.. and then he's pounding into you without further warning.

Your back arches up from his hold, and every thrust of his thick cock into your cunt is sending explosions of numbing heat throughout your lower half.

Each movement of his hips results in a lewd squelch as his pelvis slaps into the underside of your ass, and every movement sends you closer and closer to the edge. He's groaning and moaning above you, watching your every move as you squirm around and take him properly. You want to be good for him; he can tell.

Whimpers and needy whines are forced out of you as he fucks you with abandon into the mattress, and your mind is forced back into reality once you feel his hands move from your back to your sensitive tits.

"Are you gonna cum? You're squeezing down on me," he breathes out, a loud groan cutting his words off as he tips his head back. His thrusts grow sloppier, "oh god, oh fff-u-uck.."

"Ye-- Uhh- Ahh-!" you hoarsely and brokenly moan out, unable to fully give him an answer. Your hands fist the cool sheets under you as your legs start to involuntarily squeeze together with the onslaught of your impending orgasm.

Art brings his head back up to look down at you, and he shakes his head, sliding his hands down from your breasts to your legs to lift them up and spread them apart gently but forcefully.

"Keep them spread.. I know you're close," he says softly to you, "I promise I'll let you come.. just keep being good for me.. I'm almost there.."

Once his words fill your fuzzy head, you can't help but let out an obscenely loud---borderline-pornographic---moan as your thighs shake in his hold. His cock slams into you faster, but with less and less precision. He bites his lip before his jaw slacks and he lets out an equally loud moan to accompany your filthy noises.

"You're so fucking pretty... you're so-- you feel so damn good," he babbles gruffly, his touch digging into your legs as his hips rashly thrust his throbbing length in and out of your sopping pussy.

You nod, unsure of what to say or how to even respond in the state that your body is in. You're somehow limp and tense at the same time, your body shivering as your back arches up again.

"I-- I'm gonna--!" you gasp out in a shaky whimper.

He moans at your words, fucking you deeper and messier, before he leans down over you and you can feel his broad toned chest press against yours.

"Say it.." he breathes out against your ear in a soft groan.

You moan, shuddering under him as your cunt starts to rhythmically tighten around him.

"I'm gonna cum," you whine, nearly sobbing.

"Fuck," he groans, "yeah? Say it again for me."

"I'm gonna cummm-!"

"You wanna cum on my cock?"

You nod helplessly, your arms wrapped around his flushed upper back as his cock slides in and out of you; his tip constantly brushing up against that special spot in your velvety walls hidden just a couple inches inside.

"Yess-s-!" you moan, your body absolutely writhing on the bed under his heavy form.

"Okay.. alright," he breathes out hotly into your neck, "go on and cum for me."

Before you can process what's going on, your body is overwhelmed with an overpowering heat as the last thing you distinctly feel is one of Art's hands moving down your lower abdomen to then rub circles over your swollen bud with his thumb. And that's all it takes -- You’re thrown over the edge.

"Fuck! OH MY GOD, OH--!" you cry out, your nails digging into his back as he fucks you through your climax.

He groans harshly and loudly against your warm skin before his hips stutter with the feeling of your hole pulsing around him. He keeps his digit rubbing incessant, soft circles over your clit to prolong your orgasm as he forces himself to pull out with a gasp.

His balls draw up and he reaches down quickly with his other hand to stroke over his length just as he feels his release start to rise up.

As you moan tremblingly and bask in your afterglow, you try to catch your breath as you shakily push yourself up onto your elbows just in time to watch Art squirt out a thick load over your torso. Rope after rope of sticky white fluid drips and gushes from his cock and between his fingers as he jerks himself off; shuddering deeply over you and letting out little "fuck"s and "oh my god"s and "yes"s.

After a few more shaky moments tick by, his thumb comes to a halt over your clit as he watches the last drops of his cum fall onto your stomach.

He breathes heavily, biting his lip as he watches your body shake. He loves the way his cum looks on your beautiful body.. it's like liquid pearl splattered all over you. He takes several mental pictures of the scene in front of him before he collapses on top of you with a soft grin.

You chuckle breathily, wrapping your arms around him as your warm bodies stick together in the aftermath, and he presses two soft kisses to your neck. One of your hands slides up from between his shoulder blades to run some of your fingers through his messy curls. He shivers and sighs, sliding his hands under your body to hold you closer to him.

A small period of comfortable silence is held between you two as you both work to catch your breaths, before Art is the one to break the quiet with a soft murmur into your shoulder.

"So.. can I get your number?"

"After round two," you whisper with a smile.

"Deal."

note; this is for everyone who voted for soft dom!art donaldson in that poll + the anons in my inbox asking for this sort of dynamic w/ art <3 much much much love !

divider credit: @benkeibear <3

[nappingmoon]

more domestic nanami kento because I love and adore him, but this time you’re in an argument and try to sleep on the couch (spoiler: nuh uh)

wc: idk i’m on my phone it’s not that long

you get into an argument w nanami and think he wants space so after dinner, when he heads into the room to go to bed, you stay out under the pretense of finishing some paper work and watching the news. you pull a blanket out and splay onto your couch, which, despite being a little small, is soft and comfortable— a testament to its use and the friends you've had over to break it in. the thought of those good times warms your heart a smidge, though it remains heavy with the current tension between you and your fiancé. you leave the tv on, let the night shift television shows fill the space and keep you company while you sleep, an alarm set so that tomorrow you can make breakfast and talk it out.

in the bedroom, nanami lays on his back, the small clock to his left almost mocking him with the way the red numbers change minute after minute with no sign of you coming to bed. the room is cold without your presence, dark in a way that has nothing to do with lamps or moonlight. he fidgets and turns but without your familiar dip in the bed, sleep is impossible. he never sleeps well without you; the lack of your steady breaths and soft snores means he starts to spiral with thoughts about your wellbeing. he knows you’re in an argument, but you always come to bed, right?

he sits on it for a moment more, eyeing the door to see if you’ll slip in and put his worries to rest like you always do. when the numbers blip again, he gets up, feet sliding into the silly slippers you got him for christmas (you have a matching pair) and finds his way to the living room.

when he finds you there curled up with your arm hung over the edge of the sofa and a little bit of drool spilling onto the cushion, his heart twists. the lights of the television flash over your face, certainly disrupting your sleep, though he doubts your reaching anywhere near a restful slumber. he walks over to you, slowly crouching in order to avoid scaring you awake. his right hand grabbing yours, and it’s freezing— left without the protection of your measly blanket. he warms it with one hand while the other comes up to graze your face, easing you awake.

“kento?” you ask, bleary eyed. “you’re even handsome in my dreams.” you smile and pat his face before letting your arm drop and closing your eyes once more.

a small chuckle escapes him, both in surprise and adoration at his soon to be wife. unwilling to try and wake you a second time, he quickly turns the tv off, then slides an arm around your back and another under your knees before rising. he elbows the light switch to the living room off and slowly makes his way back to your shared bedroom, carefully avoiding hitting you at any point. your head is safe regardless, tucked into his chest contentedly despite not being awake. he supposes your body recognizes him asleep or awake— a testament to the years you’ve spent side by side; once as teammates and now as lovers.

he slides you into bed on your side, fixing up the covers before making his way around to his side. he slips off his slippers and gets himself under the covers, body gravitating to you. as he brings you closer to him, you finally seem to shake off your sleep. you look at him sadly, and it’s enough to resolve him against letting any future arguments happen (an impossible sentiment, he knows, but the look on your face is makes him dead set on trying).

“never try to sleep on the couch again.” he whispers, quiet but stern. “I hate sleeping without you. I worry too much.” the honesty is almost suffocating and tears build at your waterline.

“m’ sorry kento. thought you were mad at me n’ I wanted to give you some space away from me.” you reply, the words thick with sleep and emotion.

“i’ll never need space from you baby,” he insists, “I know we were in an argument but you mean everything to me. I’ll always want you by my side. I’ll always need you by my side. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were the reason I was upset.” he finishes off with a kiss to your forehead, his hand coming up to wipe the tears that have begun to drip down your cheeks.

he kisses down the bridge of your nose before leaving a peck at your lips. it’s the last thing you feel before giving in to the exhaustion once more.

in the morning, you’ll discuss the tensions of yesterday, but before that, you’ll wake in the arms of your lover, held tight against the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

it beats for you, anyway.

[bookishlyvintage]

Illumicrate June 2023 unboxing: Night & Day