#I have barely scratched the surface here!

[virtue-boy]

Went on a transandrophobia truther blog and instantly saw this ..

1) love the slight of hand where he says "being trans" instead of actually identifying any positionality or god forbid mentioning WOMANHOOD as a type of positionality in his post which allows him to call trans women men and completely disregard the experience of the closested trans WOMAN. Telling that your argument hinges on "after transitioning to a man I am exactly the same as a woman undercover as a man"

2) just say you're not on T and you don't know anyone who is. Like as someone who's passed as male on an off for my whole life and now fully passes as male all the time thanks to T I low key snorted reading this... Liiike let's be for real here passing as a man (and doubly so if u are binary and have the pronouns to match) and passing gives you privilege out the fucking wazoo and I literally think about it every time I leave the house, meet new people, take blue collar jobs, interact w people on public transit, walk around at night, go to gay clubs, bond w male overseers, look for roommates, etc. This is obviously extremely racialized as much as it is gendered, but there is literally not a single "privilege" I had as a girl (that was assumed to be a guy 50-70% of the time) that I lost as a guy.

3) Also how do trans men "inherently defy patriarchal manhood" I literally know a trans guy who went to jail for domestic violence against a woman like trans men are incredibly capable of accessing and enacting patriarchy and thinking ourselves justified in accessing patriarchal homosociality. Like we are literally becoming men and we don't just magically exit the patriarchal society because we aren't the men at the top of the make food chain.... a la R.W. Connel. Being trans men means we lose some for being trans but we win some because we are men. Like gay men are frequently denied their masculinity but it would be dodo brained to act like gay men have no male homosociality they can access or that no gay man has ever accessed male homosociality. Like if u believe that you actually don't know any gay history Attttt Alllllll 😭 like genuinely. We also earn more money per dollar than women in our same gender modality, that doesn't sound like "inherently defying patriarchal manhood" to me that sounds actually like a pretty typical social positionality for oppressed and marginalized men. Like in my own friend groups, at school, and in my music and promotions scene being an (openly trans) man actually has granted me actually a lot of homosociality that I can draw on.

[yuckydraws]

(Click for better quality)

Healing & Growth

(gif made by my friend @robanilla-arts is below - slight warning for flashing! Thanks again, Rob!)

[polux-aka-hyakunana]

The tragedy of having my hands full of work until at least next week and suddenly remembering how much I love and miss Lies of P while living my Geats fever because I need stalker!Riders injected on my veins to keep living

[hermioneismyrealname]

To all the posts on tiktok and insta going on about how their clothing is to specific moments in their lives together (on camera)... can I tell them that people don't have an infinite wardrobe without them breaking down? Like calm the fuck down. How many times do we wear the same shirt cause it's comfortable or it just looks good?

This reminds me of how dating rumours in the kpop industry begin. Matching jewelry. Matching clothes. When all I see is... oh yeah, looks aight.

Below is a brain vomit on softpower? I think.

I just had a thought about how soft power countries like Korea and Japan have given Thailand a module to succeed using tourism and entertainment to boost their economy through producing artists. At this point, as much reign on the artist's private is on par to that of the Korean entertainment industry. Unlike Japan who have their artists more or less discreet. However using Japan and Korea as stepping stones, Thailand realized that they can take it a step further by legalizing gay marriage and protecting gay right to draw more foreigners in to boost commerce and bring in foreign trade with international advancements for their own profit if they see Thailand as this progressive country...

AAAAAHHHHHH MY HEAD IS GOING DOWN A RABBIT HOLE!

Oh fuck..

Anyway does anyone know where I can get a copy of love upon a time by littlebear96. I want to buy the book directly. I don't if it's still in Thai.

[lacomandante]

💭 + France

send 💭 + a topic to receive a headcanon about said topic.

       So this answer requires a bit of historical background and canon context: but the long and short of it: Teresa genuinely, deeply, hates the French with a pure, terrifying hatred- a direct quote from the books. She hunts the French and gives them a long, lingering deaths, seeking revenge for the atrocities they did upon her, her family, and her home. (rape and torture tw ahead).

        The French, in the Peninsular War, were infamously known for their war crimes. In both the books and the films, they march into her home town of Casatejada, and lay waste to everything. They force their way into their home- her father is blinded, and Teresa, her sister, Maria, and her mother were horrifically raped and brutalized, and her mother murdered after Maria begged the French to kill them. sparing the sisters. Her brother, Ramon, was crucified to the walls of the cellar, nails through his wrists, surrounded by a sea of blood, as the towns people were dragged in there and tortured to death.

“The cellar was spattered with blood, with bodies that showed death in a dozen horrid ways...the floor was black with Spanish blood, strewn with mutilations obscene as nightmare. Young, old, men and women, all killed horribly...and in the cellar the Spanish had died, slowly and with exquisite pain. The bodies lay in the crumpled way of the dead, their number impossible to count, or to tell the ways in which they had died. Some were too young even to have known what had happened, killed no doubt before their mothers eyes.”

        While this sounds over the top, this is historically accurate. This is not even the worst of the atrocities the French actually committed during this war- and I’m not giving a pass to the English, either, (nor the Spaniards). But the French showed an incredible blood thirst that horrified even the English, and are often written about in accounts from the war.

         The French took everything from Teresa- her mother, her life from before, all their wealth, and her honor, most of all- Blas Vivar crudely tells Sharpe, after admitting he harbors feelings for her, to forget about Teresa, that she’s “no longer a woman”, and details what happened to her. Because she’s been raped, she’s seen as ruined, and the choices were either to die, or to seclude herself in a convent in shame. Teresa chooses neither.

        After this horrific attack, Teresa swears an oath on her mothers grave, and rides the hills, hunts the French, and hopes to die. She is called La Aguja, The Needle, for her dagger used to slit French throats. She tortures with little remorse, sets up ambushes, and is a terrifying force against the French, and a great spy. She calls the French pigs, swine, and keeps count of how many she’s killed, never enough. “...and every Frenchman she knifed with her long slim blade was one small part of the endless revenge she had promised to inflict on the soldiers who had raped her.”

        But for as much as Teresa hates the French, she’s not without manners. Colonel Dubreton, a French officer, compliments her, tells her she’s as beautiful as she is dangerous, and invites her to dine with them during a truce on Christmas Eve. Sharpe’s surprised that Teresa politely declines.

"Of course, Madame." Dubreton paused. "Your husband has done me a great service, Madame, a personal service. To him I owe my wife's safety.  If it is ever in my power, then I will feel honored to repay that debt." Teresa smiled. "You'll forgive me if I hope it is never in your power?" "I regret we are enemies." "You can leave Spain, then we need not be." "To be your friend, Madame, makes the idea of losing this war bearable." She laughed, pleased with the compliment, and to Sharpe's utter astonishment held out her hand and let the Frenchman kiss it.

        Teresa, in the film Sharpe’s Company, murders a French engineer- he had caught her spying, and as a ruse, Teresa kissed him- and when questioned as to why she killed him, Teresa answers that she’d never let a Frenchman lay their hands on her ever again. And here (in the books anyways), Teresa offers her hand for one to kiss! He’s clearly not like the others, and shows her great respect, despite being an enemy of France with quite a bounty on her head. THAT is a nuance I love- that Teresa can hate the French with all the passion of her passionate soul, and still be polite, have conversations, and even enjoy Dubreton’s company, however brief.

         Now, that’s all canon- as for what my headcanons are for Teresa regarding the French, I think Teresa actually had a favorable opinion of the French before the war, and greatly admired them!

        Bordering France, Spain has had a tumultuous relationship with them over the centuries, both as allies and enemies. Fashion, culture, and politics often spread from France, having a great influence as time went on, and it was impossible for even Spain, traditional and stubborn as they were, to resist. French politicians and philosophers were beginning to be found in many tertulias, their ideas becoming more popular with the upper class, and the royal court began to have more and more supporters, who were called anfrancesados, from the verb afrancesar = to become like the French, to take on French mannerisms and culture, to act French. French lovers, if you would. There’s a lot of political whirlwinds in the 1790′s until 1808 about relations with France, so it’s hard to simplify.

        Teresa was born and raised in a more rural area, but was very, very wealthy. Her family owned the entire valley where they resided. Because of her status and her wealth, Teresa was able to get education at the University of Salamanca, which did accept women, though in Spain, women’s education was quite uncommon. From there, she would’ve been able to make connections to other families, and it was common to travel and stay with friends and family, and be invited to other places- from there, I think she went to Madrid for a while and was exposed to the greater life and culture afforded in the capital than in the country, including that of the French. The fashion, the food, but most of all, the liberal ideas.

        And because Spain was very traditional during this period, Teresa’s taste of (some) freedom and education in Salamanca, I think, would make her more open to the ideas of the French. I think for someone as headstrong, ambitious, and determined as she is, she would want more than what was offered, and being exposed to new ideas and ways of thinking would captivate her. This would more than likely be anytime between 1800-1806. While she leaves the cities behind and eventually returns to her home, she keeps those ideas in the back of her mind.

        But unfortunately, Teresa learned those ideas come at a cost- and her once goodwill and maybe even admiration of the French turned into hatred, for those ideals were paid in blood.

[sahrayliathefaelia]

i guess i shouldn't be surprised about this but re: the introduction of claire as a character in the bear--y'all really love hating women and completely disregarding larger narrative arcs don't you

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

me: *comes up with a fun AU in my head with Artham, Fiddleford and Bruno*

my brain: what if you drew it

me: oh my gosh you’re right, what if I drew it

Behold the boys! AU Fiddleford and Bruno. Where’s Artham, you ask? Well I stole him from Wingfeather Falls, which is my extension of Wingfeather Saga canon and he met and rescued the AU versions of his best friends. But then he had to go home to his own universe, of course. So, Bruno and Fidds have been charged with finding their universe’s Artham (they really want to, they miss their friend).

Fiddleford’s infinity scarf and Bruno’s ruana were made by Artham and they wear them everywhere now. Fidds’ scarf is light blue and Bruno’s ruana is green but the streaks in it are a dark blue and the details are different if I ever get around to drawing them. They both live at Casita with the Madrigals.

[autumnoakes]

i haven't even seen welcome to raccoon city beyond like an analysis video on it and a trailer but i'm still upset about it osjskdjdkfj

[blumineck]

"Why are there so many female archers in fiction?"

Please forgive the clickbait-y title! This is a super complex and interesting topic that I barely scratch the surface of here, but I hopefully will be able to do more justice to things like this in the future!

Also, it's not the point of the video, but I had fun with the outfits in this- do you have any faves?

As always, please consider supporting me on Patreon if you can, or watching on youtube if not!

[mystic-mae]

i need some motivation to do shit, so like... notes thingy i guess

100 notes - water consumption for the body. marching band season made me realize i dont drink enough fucking water out here. (alright, i guess i need water now... I WAS DRINKING TEA EARLIER. THATS CLOSE ENOUGH, RIGHT??)

200 notes - food consumption, i guess. i'll try to eat 3 full meals a day. enough to make my body full and stuff. (gods dammit. well, i already ate breakfast and lunch, and i have leftovers from lunch, so, i guess dinner's all set for me.)

300 notes - homework completion. i've been lacking in my homework game, and i definitely need to improve it this semester. (...i'll start my chem homework tomorrow since saturdays are my rest days, okay??? MOST OF MY WEEKEND HOMEWORK IS DONE BUT THANKS FOR CARING, CHAT)

400 notes - writing hobby. i need motivation to write lore for my dnd campaign (#runaway ruler dnd / #convict ruler dnd / #ruined ruler dnd universe if you want to follow along my shitposting for that) (i already started shitposting for runaway ruler again, so check it out. I WILL WRITE LORE FOR EACH ARC DONT WORRY IM JUST BARELY GETTING STARTED ON THE SECOND ARC SINCE ITS VERY LONG)

500 notes - animation gift. i'm making a little valentine's gift for my spouses, and it's gonna be 1:34 seconds long... I need motivation to actually animate lmao. (i'll do bits and pieces throughout the week. don't worry, i plan to figure this out [i haven't animated in months, and even then i barely scratched the animation surface])

1000 notes - script memorization. i uh... need to memorize my silly little script for a production coming up in a month. im performing in front of kids so like... the script's pretty short and easy. im the antagonist in my cast >:]. (sick, let's go. i love myself some memorization.)

2000 notes - chest binder shopping. i'll ask my parents if i can get a chest binder. ive been meaning to get one for myself for some time now. im getting desperate for one. (i suppose i'll ask today or tomorrow... or over the weekend- that's when most of the shopping happens, anyways.)

3000 notes - leaving the closet. i'll come out to the rest of my family that i'm trans, aromantic, all the nine yards about my lgbtq+ identities. i'll definitely have to schedule a good day to do that. (HELLO??? WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?? OKAY FINE I'LL FIGURE OUT A DAY. I'LL COME BACK TO YOU WITH THAT-)

4000 notes - researching possible colleges across my state and outside my state. because i wanna get out of here.

5000 notes - order a suit. preferably black or purple. because i need more gender affirming clothes in the formal department.

EDIT: do however many notes you want. i know i said 10 notes per person earlier, but like... go wild i guess

[togetherness23]

Allow me to ramble abt Night at the Museum (2006) for a bit… (I’ve had brainrot over it for abt a month now. Help.)

In one scene with the Western diorama, a running model steam engine is being used to- as the miniature cowboy, Jedediah, puts it- ‘SPLIT [LARRY’S] HEAD LIKE A WATERMELON!’. The gag of the miniatures experiencing or causing dramatic stuff to happen, only for it to not seem like much to a human’s POV, doesn’t get old for me—- and the way the engine just kinda wails (as opposed to how grandiose it sounds a second earlier) as it pokes Larry and falls over kills me. 😭

Now, any movie with trains makes it a 10/10 /j, but I was curious to see if it was an actual engine/fits the setting of the diorama. I wouldn’t call myself a history buff (not even for steam engines), but this stuff is intriguing sometimes!! Lemme see if there’s a wiki page for this—-

…aaaand now I have never felt the urge to edit a wiki as much as I do here. Thank you NATM wiki, very cool.

-> Going off of the number 4, the tender where it says EUREKA & PALISADE, and the side saying EUREKA, I’m assuming this is supposed to be a model of the Eureka & Palisade No. 4, The Eureka. It’s a 8-18 C 4-4-0 locomotive that was built in 1875, and she operated between its namesake railway’s towns. Not sure if it make sense for it to be on the transcontinental railroad (which was standard gauge) since it’s a narrow gauge engine, but this is still neat! She has a rich history way beyond her initial railway that I’m tempted to delve further into…

Also, she looks gorgeous. 🖤🤎🧡💛✨

But wait—- there’s a second engine on the opposite side of the diorama!! The Eureka model comes out of a tunnel from the left (from the viewer’s POV) on the lower track, while this one sits on the upper track and pokes out of a tunnel from the right (from the viewer’s POV). I wish I could identify it, but I can’t read anything on it to go off of. Help?

[greenflowerceo]

[i stand up and grab the mic]

[the crowd boos]

HAAHAH OK BUT JOKES ASIDE, i've noticed someone already reblogged the general character stuff from the episode he's in so we got that covered, i'll just use this reblog as an excuse to ramble about my greenflower <3 there's so much i can't squeeze into this text post, u need at least a four hour call with me to know how much i think about these guys LMAO

a big chunk of my interest with them lies on how a big aspect of lloyd's past is just so unexplored yet it's so fun and fascinating. like kinda comical that a school for villains (or bad boys, to be specific) exists in ninjago and we're expected to skate past it

honestly, it doesn't even have to be a ship with the dynamics and character arcs that lloyd can get, but i think it'd also be fun to explore him and brad's relationship if it were to take a more romantic route

i like to think it could add on to lloyd and focus on what he thinks of himself, as the green ninja and as lloyd garmadon. the darkleys kids are able to know lloyd from before all the ninja stuff and i like to hone in on that

(long-ish ramble about my headcanons below, it's mostly about the darkleys kids and how i like to apply them in lloyd's life and his character aksjaksj)

one of my favorite things to think abt my lloyd is how he tries to really come across as a "good" guy. i like to joke that the disguise in s12 was just the culmination of all of his punky vibes and was his one opportunity to really lean into it. but he's kinda worried that somehow applying anything punk on his ninja fit might make him seem more threatening or less "good".

ninjago's perception on them is always iffy and he'd rather tread on the safe side, so i think it'd be cool if they helped him reconnect with interests he's even a bit too worried to indulge in for the case that it might put him in a negative light. (mostly like. stuff he associates from s1-s2 when he was a snotty kid that accidentally summoned the serpentine for an evil army)

that and also they ensure he actually makes time for himself and not put himself too much into his work to enjoy stuff he used to

cause .. they came from the same school and probably had to go through the same arc of acceptance. yeah, they didn't really commit great "evil" acts such as he did from the earlier seasons but i think the support and bonds that come from relating and being through the same experience can make him feel like he at least belongs somewhere, you know?

the way i interpret the darkleys kids make me think they'd be a bit shocked to have lloyd hang out and then realize . that he's still the same stupid dork from all those years ago and then shed most of the green ninja stuff immediately HAHAHAAHHA

i also like to think on how retouching upon this past and using the stuff that he came to learn from darkleys can help him in his missions as well.. like putting it in a new light

the stuff he's learned for evil can be used to do good kinda thing HAHAHAH it's cheesy but ykno, the guy's applying what he's learned from villain school (¯▿¯)

all of this mostly talks about them in a general sense but i think brad can also add to the contribution because of that little throwaway line from lloyd about how brad taught him the ropes at darkleys. i took it and ran away with it so hard . childhood friends to lovers babeeeey

guys i’m uneducated what is the vibe for greenflower. who is brad. what does he look like. what is their dynamic.

[3d-wifey]

can i get a short lil sumthin sumthin about remus and his girlfriend being academic weapons, sirius and james thinks they're boring bc they've been doing their work in the library for hours but they're actually cockwarming and seeing who'll crack first heheheh 👀👀👀

"Focus, Lupin"

Pairing: Remus Lupin x girlfriend!reader

Synopsis: You and Remus are quite competitive, always going head-to-head in your classes. It’s commonplace to compete for the highest marks. What isn’t commonplace is the sabotage in the form of Remus’s wandering hands.  

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: well, smut of course! Exhibitionism, possessive Remus, yall are both freaks tbh, cucking? cock warming, riding

A/N: The other marauders have a big fat stinking crush on you but that's neither here nor there until the end of the fic. Sighhh, I go through my marauders mood swings. Your house isn't clear so feel free to pick any of them.

Tags: @yvy1s @innercreationflower

Remus hooks his chin over your shoulder, looking for all the world as if he's just getting into a better position to read his chicken scratch notes, pressing your back even further against his chest. You inhale, clenching around him at the sudden movement. You scoff at his near-inaudible laughter, elbowing him as he chuckles into your neck.

"Quit it." You grumble, quil moving at the speed of light as you furiously write.

"Quit what?" He moves the textbook you're sharing closer, the big hand he places on the page mirrors the one that's settled on your stomach. He spreads his fingers wide like he's stretching them before he drums them along the parchment. You wish you hadn't left your robes in your dorm, at least then you'd have another layer between your skin and Remus's teasing touch.

"You're cheating." You hiss, but that's the most you do to reprimand him. It's your fault you're in this mess anyhow.

Both of you are always the highest scorers in your class. And with the past few exams, you've been getting the same score or beating each other by a point or two. It's bloody frustrating.

You continuously tried to one-up each other in academics, long after you two started dating. He's your rival first, boyfriend second.

At this very moment, before you both sit two half-done papers for your N.E.W.T-level Alchemy class that isn't due for another week, but you get extra house points if you're the first to turn it in.

Which you plan to be, even if half the blood in your brain has traveled down to where you're swollen and soaked. You both sit completely clothed, other than where you're hitched on Remus's cock, knickers pulled to the side.

Of course, the library is empty. It's nine in the afternoon on a Friday. And it was your idea to see whose dedication would overpower their carnal desires. 

He laughed you off at first. A soft, dismissive chuckle rumbling from his chest, muffled by the book he barely looked up from. Typical, shaking his head as if you'd said something absurd and that was the beginning and end of it. But you knew him well enough by now to know which buttons to push—and exactly how hard. 

"Yeah, right," you sighed, letting your tone drop into exaggerated defeat as you flopped back against his headboard. "Wouldn't be much of a competition anyway."

Remus paused mid-turn of the page. His brows furrowed, eyes flicking to you in sharp suspicion, but you didn't look at him. Not yet. Instead, you stretched out along his bed like a cat, carefully keeping your expression blank as you toyed with the edge of the blanket.

"...And what's that supposed to mean?" His voice was sharp, clipped, but you could hear the curiosity, the irritation. The competitive edge. Exactly what you were counting on.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." You waved a hand vaguely in his direction, settling yourself comfortably against his pillows. You stretched a little more, arching your back like a cat before flopping onto your side. You kept your expression perfectly neutral, but you knew he could feel the smirk simmering beneath the surface. "It's just...well, we both know you'd give in long before me. So there's truthfully no point in even entertaining the idea." You shrugged, all nonchalance, even as you felt your chest flutter at the way his brows drew together. "I'm just agreeing with you, Rem."

His scoff was immediate, sharp and incredulous. You'd earned yourself a full look now, his book lowering just enough to reveal the disbelief etched across his face. “That’s not what I said.”

You shrugged as if it was no concern to you, deliberately looking away like the conversation was already over, knowing full well he wouldn’t let it rest. You flipped onto your stomach, propping your chin on your hands to stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Didn’t need to." 

You bit your lip to keep from smiling as his book lowered—not abruptly, but slowly, deliberately. One inch, then two—his sharp amber eyes flicking to yours. The forefinger he slipped between the pages made it look like he might still pretend to be reading, but you knew better.

The scar closest to his eye twitched, irritation flickering faintly across his face. Merlin, you always loved how expressive that scar was when he was annoyed. One of his fingers tapped against the book spine resting on his chest, the motion twitchy.

He exhaled through his nose—sharp, like he was trying to keep it together—and finally set the book aside. His movements were precise, controlled, but there’s no hiding the faint flush creeping over his neck or the way the corner of his mouth twitched.

You knew you got him. He tried, and failed, to mask his irritation and it was almost unfair how easy he was to rile up. Almost

He let a long silence settle, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. Finally: “…You taking the piss?” 

You let the grin spread across your face this time, sitting up slightly so your chin props on your hands. "M'as serious as the plague, Lupin."

The staring match that followed was something out of a duel, the cogs in his mind clearly spinning. The tension stretched taut between you, thick as smoke, neither of you daring to blink.

His book stayed in his hand for a moment longer, though you saw the exact second he gave up pretending to read. Then, to your satisfaction, he closed his book with an audible thud and set it aside. He shifted, sitting up and leaning forward. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the movement, and your stomach twisted—just a smidge.

"Go get your books," he said, his voice low and challenging, sending electricity up your spine. "And meet me in the library."

“Oooh, someone's touchy," you said, walking your fingers up his thigh, muscles tensing under your touch. “Formal battlegrounds now, is it? Bold move, Rem. I thought you liked keeping your humiliations private. But if losing in public gets your rocks off, who am I to deny you?"

His lips twitched—an almost-smile that was gone too fast to catch properly. “I’ll be the one handing out the humiliation, thanks.” 

"Stakes?" you asked, cocking your head.

"Loser buys the winner chocolate frogs for a week," he said, already swinging his legs off the bed. Then, after a pause, he glanced over his shoulder, smirking faintly. "Or…whatever else I decide." 

You pushed yourself up with a wicked grin that matched his, already moving toward the door. “Alright, but don’t be mad when you’re the one giving in first. I know you can’t resist me for long.” 

Behind you, you heard him huff a laugh, though it sounded like he was trying to hide it. “Get your books, trouble. Let’s see how well you actually handle restraint.” 

You were confident by the end of this week you'd overdose on chocolate frogs. Remus might be brilliant and disciplined, but he’s not immune to distraction. Especially distraction in the form of his wickedly beautiful girlfriend.

Truthfully, it was daft of you to assume Remus would play fair. You mix two people who are as competitive as they are horny and it leads you here, on your boyfriend's lap, surely dripping onto the wooden bench under you.

He hums as if he's thinking over the definition of cheating and if what he's doing right now counts as it—which it does.

"S'that right?" He mumbles into your neck and you almost reach for your wand, honest, "I don't see any cheating here, love. Just good old fashioned studying, just like you wanted."

He thrusts up, and your hand flies up to cover your mouth. You see his quill moving out of the corner of your eye without the aid of a hand. "Cheater," you pant, but don't move to stop him or even continue writing your essay. You allow yourself to enjoy the slow, steady rock of his hips against yours—only for a moment. Every vein and ridge dragging against your hypersensitive walls.

You go to reach back—for support, for a futile attempt at stopping the way he rocks into you, feeling as inevitable as the ticking of time—with your other hand, but are stopped by the quill in your hand. You're reminded, there and then, that winning over Remus is almost, if not just as satisfactory as a hard won orgasim.

You put quill to ink pot, and then, quill to parchment. Remus curses behind you but doesn't stop. Not with you panting and whining behind gritted teeth. Not with you clenching around him like a Grindylow's spindly fingers, tightening with a merciless grip. He doesn’t stop until the familiar voice of his mates cuts through the fog.

"There you two are. Should've known you'd be held up in here weeks before your assignment is done. On a weekend at that—" Sirius trails off as he and James discover the little nook you and Remus have secluded yourselves too, as well as the...odd position you find yourselves in.

It's not that he's never seen you two be affectionate, especially nearing the full moon as it is, but you in Remus's lap like this, a flustered look on your face, well, he's not a dumbass. Something out of the ordinary is happening here.

James on the other hand is none the wiser, brows furrowing in self righteous disappointment.

"We've been looking for you two everywhere. Party's not that far off, you know the turn out will be lethal even if we lost the match to those snakes." There was a foul that should've been called, but wasn't, a sligh that the refs didn't catch. In traditional Gryffindor fashion, they didn't whine about a rematch or about the unfairness of it, and in typical Slytherin fashion, they didn't either. But they needed you two to help set up certain spells only you two knew because, well, you created them. Definitely not because they liked watching the way their best mate's girl stretched and bent as she set up in the Gryffindor commons.

"We know," Remus says, glancing up at the boys before looking back to one of the open textbooks. "The plan's to party the weekend away, yeah? It's why we're getting the assignment out of the way. Sooner you let us finish this," he's slowly sliding his hands up from your knees to your hips, pushing you down with such strength that your stomach clenches, "sooner we can help."

"It's...it's just an essay, Sirius. We'll be done before the Hufflepuffs start," you almost bite your tongue mid-sentence when Remus ghosts a callused finger over your aching clit, playing it off as a hiccup, "bringing the snacks.

Neither of you say anything more as you have a sneaking suspicion that they're going to catch on, chances of you opening your mouth to speak only for a moan to tumble out are high. Remus is quiet because he hopes they do figure it out, either from the audible wetness of your cunt or your eyes rolling back as he makes you cum. 

Remus knows they're in love with you and have been since third and fourth year. He's tempted to invite them a glimpse under the table so they can see how he has you stretched around his cock, squirming and wanton. What better way of making sure they know you're his?

And from the way Sirius looks the two of you over, glances down at the table, and raises his perfectly sculpted brows as James begins to ramble at you, there’s no mistaking that Sirius knows. Of course he does. Sirius always knows. His stormy eyes flick down again—deliberate, calculating—as if he’s debating whether or not to call you out. He hums, low and thoughtful, as if weighing the satisfaction of saying something versus letting the moment play out. Instead, he smirks faintly and leans against a nearby bookcase, letting James’s oblivious chatter fill the space.

Remus holds his gaze, unflinching, daring him to say a word. For a brief, reckless moment, he considers sliding his chair back just enough to let Sirius catch a glimpse of how thoroughly he has you. The thought makes his cock twitch inside you, and from the way Sirius’s smirk curves a fraction higher, it’s almost like he knows that, too.

Remus doesn’t full-on smirk when they lock eyes, but it’s a close thing.

"…Right.” Sirius tilts his head slightly, his sharp grey eyes dragging over the two of you like he’s piecing together a puzzle he’s already solved. His gaze flicks down to the table again—just briefly—and then back up to meet yours. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smirk, but close enough to make your stomach drop. “You know, you two really are awful at being subtle.”

Your heart skips a beat, heat rushing to your face as you open your mouth to protest—except Sirius doesn’t give you the chance. He hums thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to Remus, and then back to you, like he’s enjoying the power of watching you squirm. “But don’t think being pretty gets you out of work,” he adds smoothly, leaning in to knock his knuckle against the table. “You’ve got until ten on the dot before I come back and drag you out of here myself.”

James, oblivious as ever, snorts and waves Sirius off. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just mad because we need you for the setup,” he says, rolling his eyes. He jabs a thumb at Sirius, then gestures toward the door. “I told him you’re probably in here studying, because what else would you two be doing on a Friday night?”

Sirius hums again, a low, knowing sound, his gaze locking with Remus’s in a silent challenge. The corner of his mouth curves, just enough for you to wonder if he’s going to say something more—something that will make it impossible to deny that he knows exactly what’s happening beneath the table.

But instead, he lets out a soft laugh, straightening from the bookcase. “Sure,” he drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. “Studying.” His eyes grow bigger as he says it to emphasis just how little he believes that rubbage excuse.

He casts one last look over the two of you, smirking faintly, before turning to leave, James already rambling on about the next Quidditch match as they disappear into the corridor. Relief floods your chest for all of three seconds—before Remus tilts his hips just so, dragging another whimper from you as his cock presses deeper.

You bite your cheek, barely able to return James's wave goodbye before you're digging your nails into Remus's thighs. The same thighs that are currently spreading yours apart. Your skirt rides up, exposing you to the air and his sly hands.

"This," your hips twitch against his as he traces feather-light fingers over your puffy lips, swollen with need. You bite back a whine, huffing harshly through your nose as those fingers move down where the base of his cock sits snugly in you, tubbing slick where you and he are connected. "This is how you're cheating."

"If you're so much better than me, you should be able to focus, no problem, right?" He has an arm wrapped around your waist again, the other flipping pages.

"Fine." If that's how he wants to play, then you are more than game. You lean forward, elbows on the table as you grind your hips back and forth, barely raising off of him before coming back down with your fluttering warmth squeezing around him. "Focus, Lupin. Or, mh, at least try."

"Shhhit. D-dearest, that's not—" he cuts himself off with a truly shameless moan, both hands gripping your waist. He doesn't stop you, no, wouldn't dream of it. Instead, he helps you balance as you move faster, busy chasing your high more than you're focused on sabotaging Remus. "You, your—Merlin, you're bloody brilliant."

At this point, you don't know what'll come first: you, Remus, or Sirius's wrath.

[rainy-day-gracie]

- wedding night (2) -

A Venus & Mars mini series

pairing: General Acacius x virgin!wife!Reader

content warning(s): reader insert, no use of y/n, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, oral (f recieving), fingering, loss of virginity, piv sex, innocence kink, self indulgent praise kink, Acacius definitely talks you through it, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, discussion of future sexual acts, AFTERCARE because aftercare is hot, general acacius is in loooooove but doesn't know it yet haha, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh

a/n: So guys. I saw Gladiator II and it was awesome and Pedro Pascal is the sexiest man alive (in my heart). However, this character's name is not Marcus. I don't know who lied, but we've all been fooled. So in this sequel, the general's name is just Acacius in order to stay at least a little bit true to the actual canon.

I definitely will be writing for these two again because holy shit I made this romantic and I love them so much.

Read wedding night (1) here!

Read bloodlust here!

---

Acacius saw heaven in your eyes, a piece of salvation he never thought he might be able to grasp with his blood-stained hands.

He glanced down your body, wrapped beautifully in your white wedding gown, gold jewelry shining in warm candlelight. For a moment, he wondered Venus herself were tricking him with her immortal seduction.

But the blush of red in your cheeks, the shine of desire in your eyes, the beat of your heart in your chest....

No immortal possibly could mimic such evidence of true, temporary, and precious life.

Acacius had been with plenty women in his lifetime, had thought he understood what desire was.

I want you, you had said.

Now, he thinks he's only scratched the surface.

---

The general-- Acacius -- peered at you like a starving man at a feast, drinking you in, turning the wheels in his head of what he wanted to do first.

He grasped your hand in both of his, studying the golden band on your ring finger. Evidence of your gods-blessed union.

"I want to see you wearing nothing.... except for this," Acacius breathed, his voice low, and dreamy, like the words were slipping from him with no control.

"I'd like that very much," you said, trying to keep your hand from trembling under his touch.

"May I strip you bare, darling?" He asked, calloused fingertips fiddling with the clasp on your golden bracelet.

"Yes."

Instantly, the bracelet fell, and then the other, and then the other. Acacius' gentle touch drove you wild, methodical and sure. He stopped for a moment, glancing at the purity ring on your pinky, and smirked in a way that nearly made your knees buckle.

Glancing back up to your gaze, he held your stare as he pulled the purity ring off. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from yours, letting you smell the sweet cherry wine on his breath.

"Kiss me," you mumbled.

Acacius' smirk remained. "Patience, darling."

He tucked the purity ring into a pocket of his tunic, and turned you around, so your back pressed against his chest. A sigh caught in your throat, realizing he had turned you both to face the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

"Answer me honestly," he said, trailing one of his knuckles down the exposed skin of your spine. "Have you ever touched yourself?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you shivered at his light touch. "Uh..."

"Don't you lie to me, now. It's a great sin to lie to your husband," he whispered, his teeth nipping lightly at your ear.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I- I've touched myself. I've touched... my..."

"Your cunt?" Acacius mused.

You nodded, your chest rising heavily.

"Did you… like it? When you touched yourself?"

"N-no. I've been told it is not ladylike, to... pleasure yourself in that way."

Acacius kissed the back of your neck, making you arch into his touch. "Oh, my poor darling... there's nothing more ladylike in the world. Don't worry... I will show you how."

A full whimper escaped you at that, and Acacius undid the knots of your dress with a chuckle.

The dress fell, leaving you in only your loincloth, tied at your waist. But Acacius was looking at something else.

His eyes were transfixed on your perked breasts, his mouth slightly open as he wrapped one of his hands around the soft flesh. A high-pitched sigh left your throat, and he reached around with his other hand to take hold of the other breast.

"Do you like it when I hold you like this?" Acacius murmured, his mouth at your temple. He twitched his fingertips to pinch your nipples softly, making you close your eyes in pleasure. "Look at me."

Snapping your eyes open again, he stared you down in the mirror with a small devilish grin. He pinched your breasts again, pulling an answer from you. "Yes, Acacius."

"Good girl," he praised, your cunt throbbing at the words. He let go of your breasts, untying the cloth at your hips until you were utterly bare before him, save for your wedding ring. "Lie down on the bed, darling."

He brushed a palm over your plush backside, guiding you towards the beautiful linen bed. Plenty big for two.

You obey with a shy smile, sinking into the blankets and pillows like you were always meant to fit there. Watching from your comfortable bed, Acacius loomed over the foot, undoing buttons on his tunic, and ties on his robes.

Your lips parted slightly as he exposed the tan, scarred skin of his chest, flickering candlelight bathing him in a warm glow. He studied your expressions like a hawk, watching for any sign of discomfort or displeasure.

As he unlaced the toga and loincloth, leaving him as bare as you were, you had to keep yourself from gasping.

His cock hung heavily between his legs, not even fully aroused but still bigger than anything you had anticipated. He wrapped a hand around his manhood, smirking at your expression, but mercifully saying nothing about it.

“I am curious, my wife,” Acacius began, his voice a rumble. He pulled himself onto the marriage bed, caging you in the sheets with his arms and legs straddling. His eyes never left yours. “What did they say about me? When you learned of our union, what whispers crossed your ears?”

You licked your lips, speaking suddenly a challenge. “Um, that you w-were brave…”

Acacius leaned down, pulling one of your legs over his broad shoulders.

“…and strong…”

He mirrored the motion with your other leg, leaving your weeping cunt exposed.

“…a-and…”

Acacius paused, waiting for your answer. “And?”

“General, I shouldn’t speak ill…” you moaned, wondering if one could combust with desire.

“Tell me the truth, darling. Or you won’t get what you so eagerly want.”

“Th-they said you were cruel,” you stammered, desperately, any wall of self preservation coming down. “They said you took anything you desired, washed your hands with blood, and violence was the only language you spoke. Your rage eclipses that of Achilles, and your eyes blacken every time you raise a banner. You are of Mars himself, shedding blood like you were born to it.”

Acacius’ smirk from between your legs was wicked, and he broke your gaze for the first time since lying on the bed.

He studied your open cunt with a glazed expression, like he was lost in the pleasure of staring at your slick desire.

“If I am of Mars then you are of Venus, my darling.”

His words filled you with affection, the way his knees bent on the bed almost like he was worshiping an altar between your legs.

“So pure…” he murmured, as if the words had slipped from his lips.

Your back arched like a bow as he licked a stripe up your soaking slit, sighs escaping from your throat.

Acacius hummed with delight, fucking you on his tongue lazily, drinking your desire like nectar of the gods.

You buried your hands in his hair hesitantly, unsure of what would be pleasing to him. In all the times you eavesdropped on the married women of the court, never once had they mentioned anything like… this. Never once had they mentioned any of the overwhelming pleasure racking every limb of your body. Never once had they mentioned the lightning erupting over your skin with every brush of his calloused palm.

Acacius trailed his hands down your arched torso, cupping your breasts as his mouth traced patterns over your cunt. Your breathy moans made him chuckle into your flesh, the vibrations making you lift your hips with pleasure.

Throbbing built in your pussy, clenching around his tongue as your desire jumped at every brush of his lips.

“A-Acacius, gods…” you cried out, throwing your head back as a pinnacle raced towards you.

“Relax, my darling,” Acacius breathed, bringing one of his hands down to rest at your soft inner thigh. “I’m going to put my hands on you now.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, unsure of what it was you were begging for.

“Tell me if it becomes too much,” Acacius said, and his hand on your thigh moved.

The gentle brush of his rough fingertips on your slick folds had you gasping anew, pulling lightly on the locks of his hair.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Acacius mumbled to himself. “I have half a mind to just keep you like this.”

You whined in protest, your hips chasing his touch.

“So needy for a virgin.”

You threw your head back as his finger pushed past your slick folds, reaching spots inside of yourself that you hadn’t known existed.

“Oh, so tight, my love. You truly are pure.” Acacius curved his finger, brushing against something spongy, and sensitive. A guttural moan escaped your throat, and he laughed softly. “When the pleasure peaks, do not fight it. Let it take you away, somewhere only you and I exist.”

You nodded at his command, closing your eyes as your head sunk into the linen pillows.

Unrestrained cries erupted from you as he pulled his finger out, and in, and out again, hitting that sweet spot with every push inside of your aching cunt.

When he pressed his tongue to the bud at the top of your core, he pushed a second finger deep into your slick, making you wonder if the gods truly did become man. The stretch of his fingers pricked a pain deep within, making you clench tighter around his calloused fingertips. A slight brush of his rough facial hair against your core was your ultimate undoing.

You called out his name as the pleasure rushed down your spine, into your belly, and built in your desperate cunt. He knew it, too, and continued to thrust his fingers deep inside with renewed enthusiasm. His tongue licked against your clit with hunger, tipping you over the edge.

Cries escaped your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you, every muscle in your body going taut as the desire took over. Your cunt clenched tightly, chasing his fingers, and your spire curved with tension as the wave of lust claimed you.

Acacius watched with a lazy smile as your core squeezed with your orgasm, evidence of your desire dripping off his lips.

“Acacius… Acacius…” you breathed as the climax subsided, your body relaxing into the bed once more.

“How do you feel, darling?” Acacius asked, crawling back up to press his nose against yours. His brown eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with adoration.

In place of an answer, you buried your hands in his curly, soft hair, pressing his lips to yours. He responded instantly, capturing your mouth with the passion of love and war.

His tongue pushed against yours, pure want seeping from every brush of his lips against yours. You gasped as his hands cupped your hips gently, like he was making sure you were a solid thing he could hold in his hands. Like he was worried you might slip through his fingers.

“I want more,” you whispered against his mouth, and he nodded with his eyes closed, like he was dreaming.

“It will hurt for a moment, but I will be gentle with you,” Acacius breathed, trailing light kisses against your throat. “Tell me when there is pain, or if you wish to stop.”

You nodded against his temple, and he pulled his lips back instantly.

“Say you want me, darling. Say you will tell me to stop if you wish.”

The intensity in those brown eyes, the desperation, had you squirming with desire once again.

You held his face in your hands, tracing your thumb against his rough stubble, studying him.

Acacius' nose was utterly Roman, looking like it had possibly been broken once or twice. Every mark on him was evidence of a man that had seen the Underworld and walked away, but not without a few scars to show for it. Though he had been nothing but gentle with you, there was no doubt he could live up to his reputation of bloodletting.

Still, you held him close.

"I want you, Acacius. I will tell you to stop if I wish to." There was no hesitation, no tremor in your voice.

He sighed in relief, reaching down to his hard cock and bringing it between your legs. You whined at the sensitive touch, and he grunted at the slickness of your folds.

"So wet for me, darling, so perfect," he moaned in your ear, guiding the soft flesh of your thighs to wrap around his hips.

Tentatively, he rubbed his cock up and down your core, getting you accustomed to the blunt feeling. You whined breathlessly, near begging for him to fuck you already.

"Patience, darling. I need to go slow to not hurt you," he mumbled.

The blunt head of his cock pushed past your sensitive folds, and you dug your nails into the strong muscles of his back.

Acacius let out a guttural groan into the heated skin of your neck. "So wet, and tight."

You called his name like a prayer, your head tossed back in pain and pleasure. Over and over again, you called his name.

"A little more, easy, easy..." Acacius moaned, pushing further into your virgin cunt.

You cried out in pinching desire. "S-so much, Acacius..."

"I know, darling. We're halfway there."

You held tight to him, his rough hands on your soft skin distracting you from the stretch of your cunt around his cock. "H-halfway?"

Acacius chuckled, holding still inside of you to let you adjust. "You feel... divine. So, so perfect, my sweet wife."

A high pitched moan escaped you as he pulled back slightly, kissing your neck as he pushed farther in. You clenched around him, and his lips on your clammy skin sent a fresh wave of lust panging though you.

But Acacius stopped, and you gasped in pain again, as if he had hit a barrier in your core he couldn't push past. You knew he could bottom out if he so wanted, but not without tearing you deeply.

Instead of pushing forward, he stayed where he was inside of you, tracing his nose along the curve of your jaw.

When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost like he didn't mean for you to hear his words.

"Do you want to know what I want, darling?"

You were too breathless to answer.

Acacius continued. "I want to fuck you so well that all of Rome hears you calling my name. I want to mark you with my mouth so you may look in the mirror and think only of me. I want fall to my knees and thank the gods that gave you to me. But for now, my darling... I want you to come on my cock with your most divine cunt."

Your cunt, as if on command, fluttered, and you moaned as he was able to fill you to the hilt without a pinch of discomfort.

"Oh, yes," Acacius whispered, his tongue darting out along your pulse point. You cried out in pleasure as he shifted inside of you, holding tight to his strong back.

"You... are... perfect, darling," he panted, thrusting slowly, in and out, in and out. "So warm, and tight..."

"Acacius, please..."

"Please... what?" Acacius teased, biting your bottom lip slightly as he pushed back into you.

"More... more," you said, digging your nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

Acacius responded in kind, chuckling at your desperation. "As my lady commands."

His thrusts into your aching cunt deepened, becoming harder as you grew needy for his strength. You tossed your head back with a high-pitched cry when he was able to hit that perfectly sensitive spot inside of you, and the reaction made him even more ravenous for you.

"Oh, you take my cock so well," Acacius praised, the words making your cunt clench around him. "So, so good, my darling."

As if he knew what you needed before you did, he pulled his chest away from yours, sitting up on his knees while thrusting into you. He looped his wide arms underneath your spread legs, angling you upwards on his thighs and pulling your hips up off of the bed. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you arched your back off the sheets with a shriek of delight.

"Acacius, Acacius," you cried out, the new angle sending him deep into your core, hitting spots you hadn't even known existed.

"That's it, say my name," Acacius said with a smirk. "Say my name when I fuck you, tell all of Rome who is making you feel this good."

You couldn't stop, the falling of his name from your lips dripping like sweet honey. All you could feel was the sweat of his skin against yours, the calloused of his hands as they gripped your soft thighs closely, and the depths of your core his cock was able to reach.

"You're going to cum for me," Acacius ordered, his words coming out in pants of breath. "You're going to cum for me, because you're a good girl. You're a good girl, aren't you? Letting me fuck her virgin cunt so nicely, such a good girl..."

At his praise, your cunt tightened around his cock, back arching like a bow. As you came, he pressed a calloused hand into the flesh above your pelvis, the pressure making your high all the more intense. You cried out his name, over and over again, the two of you becoming the only people in the world as the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you.

Acacius' thrusts into your aching core sped, became less focused, and you knew he was losing control himself as you came apart underneath him. Your name fell from his lips as he pressed his hand further into the spot below your belly, where his cock seemed to bulge into his palm as your cunt pulsed around him.

"Such a good girl, such a good wife," he moaned. Only when your core could only twitch in response to his strong thrusts did he slow, leaning back over you and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

A warmth pooled within you, evidence of his pleasure. You didn't know if you'd ever felt such an intimate connection with anyone as you did with him, his kiss burning a brand into your heart as the heat of passion faded.

Acacius pulled away after a moment, breathing heavily against your throat. "Hold still a moment," he warned. His palms pressed against your hips, his cock sliding from you with a slight sting. You followed his advice, your legs feeling weak and shaky.

You studied him as he crossed the bedchamber to the washroom, his broad back dimpling with the movement. Returning with a clean cloth and a faint smile on his lips, the dimple in his cheek made your heart swell as he saw your sprawled body on his massive bed.

"Feeling comfortable?" Acacius asked, eyebrows raised with amusement.

You nod, watching him as he crossed over to you, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he carefully wiped your messy core.

Breaking from your lips for a moment, he pressed his nose against yours, and you cherished the gentle, intimate gesture.

"Shall I call the servants for a hot bath?" Acacius mumbled, tossing the cloth aside.

"A hot bath sounds divine, but only if we may take one together," you reply, slightly giddy.

Acacius furrowed his brows in confusion. "What is making you laugh, my darling?"

You kissed him again, long and slow. Time stood still, and it was as if you could physically feel the bond forging between the two of you, forging in a slow burn of a crackling fire. It was warm, and easy, and comforting.

You broke away, studying him in his eyes. "You are simply... not what I expected."

Acacius smiled, that damn dimple curving in his cheek.

The most feared general on the continent.

Your husband.

Acacius kissed your forehead. "You, my darling, are everything I've been dreaming of."

---

taglist (people that asked to be tagged in part 2): @marianastudiesart @joeldjarin @fallout-girl219 @shantellorraine @lanadelslay69-420 @pedrofan

my request box is open! would love to hear y'all ideas for Joel, Acacius, Javier, or Oberyn :)

[shshshshshowrunner]

I think you guys are underestimating me again but not in the previous way where I'm dangerous but instead in the way where i don't think any of you actually realize how far i'm willing to go on a "Please". no one asks for anything :(

[submattenthusiast]

dealer!chris blurb ✩˚｡⋆

chris calling you was always rare, he never called unless he needed something or on accident, never just randomly, so when his contact popped up on your phone screen, eyebrows were raised. before you could say hello properly he was talking, barely understandable but he was. "hi i'm outside please let me in, i drove all the way over here before my high settled in so i could see you, please it's really cold out here and my eyes are starting to feel heavy" your mouth dropped as you listened to his ramble. "you're outside...?" you dumbly ask. "yes? didn't i just say that" he retorts, knocking on your door to prove himself.

swinging the metal open, you rush him in, not wanting the cold air to infiltrate your house. you watch him speechlessly as he takes his boots and jacket off and heads for the living room. as he turned his head you saw the strands of hair peaking out his cherry beanie and had a strong urge to play with the brunette strands. you had to shove your hands in your pockets to stop from grabbing them.

flopping on the large sofa, chris let out a deep breath, as if he'd been holding it in all day. a unrecognizable sound came from his mouth as his body collided with the surface. "this couch feels so good baby, i wish i could sleep here like everyyyday" chris mumbled. you walked over to sit next to his spread out body, relaxing into the soft pillow as you looked at him in awe. it was so rare for him to not be all tough, mean ,and serious. but he was showing you this different side of him, it made you feel a bit special.

sensing your presence on the couch, chris lifted his head up to look at you. a big smile came across his lips as he saw your lap was free. scooting over toward you, he grabbed your thigh and rested his head on your legs. his cold cheeks sent shivers down your spine as the bad contact with your skin. with a body resting on your lap you had to find somewhere to place your hands and his hair was right there. without hesitation you peeled the beanie off his head to release his beautiful dark brown hair. the long locks tickling your skin as they fell into place. "hey you jacked my shit what the fuck" he frowns. you cackle before shushing him. "my lap my rules" you retort. nodding his head he stopped giving attitude. he planted a few kisses along your thigh to apologize without saying anything but still felt the need to say something. "yes ma'am your lap i'm sorry don't kick me out".

a loud string of whimpers left his lips as your hands found their way to his hair, fumbling through the tangles and massaging his scalp. the scent of his shampoo filled your nose as you continued to play. his hair was always so soft after the first wash. you smile while looking down at him, seeing how much he was enjoying it and how relaxed he is. continuous whines leave his mouth as you start to pull a little at his roots. "please don't stop feels so fucking good, your hands are like god sent" he moans, lowkey humping the couch under him and hoping you didn't notice. but you felt the movements and saw his hips moving out of the corner of your eye. teasing him a little more, you tug harder at his roots, wanting to pull a reaction from his body. "fuck please" he breathes, pushing his body into the couch for friction.

"please what?" you coo, slowing down a bit. your nails scratched circles into him as you waited for a response from him. a low whine came out of him as he melted under your touch, cheeks smushing into your skin and shoulders drooping. his voice cracked as he attempted to speak to you, mind beginning to get scattered "please don't stop it feels so good and i'm so hard it hurts, you don't even have to touch my dick or whatever but please you can't stop". he started to wet your thigh with messy kisses again as you started to tug at his hair like before. "that's a good boy, using your words " you purr, changing the direction of your hand. "for you only" he adds, smiling like a dummy.