#I just keep going up and down from my knees to be more level with the table when I get to the presents ends

[harvestmoss]

Beginner Witch Tips

Where does one even start? Well, there's hundreds of lovely people both on Tumblr and other blog spaces, as well as wonderful beginner books and online resources out there that love to help. This is just one of many other witches takes on what a beginner witch may want to start researching and do, and some extra bits.

Before Magic:

What is magic to you? - You can't start performing magic until you learn how magic functions in your eyes. How do you make sure a spell will work? What is energy in magic? It may be a lot to ask, but it's something to keep in mind as you research other topics that might help uncover this question more, or vice versa, it can help you understand other topics.

Meditation is not *just* sitting and doing nothing - In my path I beat myself up so hard for not being able to sit down with my legs crossed and hands on my knees, sitting perfectly still, and just empty my thoughts for 10 boring long minutes. Meditation is a practice that involves focusing the mind to achieve a state of calm and clarity. Which means that if you can make your mind more clear and calm by sewing, listening to music, doing exercise, chant, etc. Learn what sort of meditation works best for you. I meditate outside by looking down at the ground to find amulets, or swimming, and inside it's when I draw or focus on a task.

Correspondence list - Find out what correspondences (example) basil has, but also, why does it have that? And maybe, it doesn't have those correspondences to you at all! This counts for colours, crystals and other things too.

Closed practices - It's good to know which sorts of practices are closed, semi closed, and open. As well as what practices Wicca preach and so on, it's a way to recognize what perspective your sources are writing from.

Pregnant or medicated people, please be careful - This may seem strange, but before just casting a spell or using herbs, please be mindful of what it contains as some herbs can have negative effects on pregnant people or your medication you're taking. This counts for poisonous herbs as well, know what to avoid or be careful with.

Do your own research - I can spew a lot of things to you, but I can only do it from my perspective. Learn from more than just one place. From both in real life and online.

Time For Magic

Cleansing magic - Figure out how to cleanse a space for magic use, you don't want energies mixing in with your spells. As an example, I can't cook in a kitchen that's filled with dishes and dirty counters. The same goes for spells, I can't perform spells until energies are clear and gone.

Protection magic - Every witch says this. But yes. Protection magic is useful even if you have no enemies. Once you have gotten rid of unwanted energies, it's time to make sure they won't come back in and make sure to up keep your protection regularly.

Warding and banishing magic - Listen, you can clean as much as you want, but you simply won't get rid of mold unless you use bleach. You simply can't get rid of annoying spirits unless you have a good banishing and warding spells you can rely on. Especially if you plan on summoning spirits whenever it's the elements or some high level demon later down your path. You must have a banishing spell in case things go wrong.

Charging and binding magic - Your magic will prove more powerful if you learn how to charge your energy and tools and also binding them to certain powerful uses. You may find a stick and use it as a wand, but it'll be more powerful if you spend the time to charge it, learn about it, and only use it for specific rituals.

Bonus Tips:

Stop researching about different types of witches - Maybe this is a hot take or not. Besides knowing what a pagan and wiccan is and closed practices, there's no need to write about what a sea witch, a hearth witch, a death witch, a divination witch, etc is! When I first started out, I got so stressed out because once I got done writing and research about 10 different witches, another 400 would show up, I gave up about it and used my focus and energy on other more crucial things than "a sea witch is someone who works with the ocean and..." *snores* we know, it's in the name. Besides, you shouldn't focus on labels so early on in your practice.

Amulets are not just shiny jewellery - Movies love to predict amulets and talismans as these hereditary important gemstone necklaces. But honestly, you can make an amulet out of anything. Snail houses, rocks, seashells, bags of herbs, nails, sea glass, horseshoe, or actually your every day jewellery like your wedding ring, earrings, and favourite bracelet.

Self-care witchcraft is not that fantastic - Maybe it's just me but the last thing I wanna do in a "self-care" ritual is clean up all the herb baths and find herbs and grind my own tea. True self-care witchcraft is taking care of your doctors appointment and enchanting them with luck and good news. Or Finally getting around to cleaning the oven (the hearth) so that your home is healthy once again.

Use things you have in your area - Learn what's around you in your city, not just stores but what can you get from parks, lakes, forests, and beaches near you? When do the herbs in your area bloom? When can you harvest acorns? Can you get flowers from the park or do you have to source them somewhere else in your area? Are you able to grow your own stuff in on your balcony or kitchen? And also, be mindful, always leave some left so it can come back next year.

[afyrian]

line seven - cold shoulder m.list

    atsumu sits in the station's break room, legs crossed on another chair as he sips on an espresso. the spike of caffeine is the only thing keeping him awake as he waits patiently for sakusa to get there. ever since his discussion with you, he's wondered what happened to the spark that sakusa seemed to carry. the way he joked with you, talked as if he knew your coffee order and how you made the bed. 

  sakusa sat across from him at the dinner, rather than beside him. he sat next to you, knees touching, hands brushing. and atsumu found himself watching the two of you around work the next day, both acting like you didn't know each other. so, all atsumu can do is wait patiently for sakusa to come and give him the answers he desperately needs and desires.

  he's tried messaging him relentlessly about the situation. 'why was she upset?' 'why didn't you make her happier?' 'what did you do?' atsumu always knew that sakusa wasn't good with getting close to someone. he pulls back and isolates himself so that he can't be hurt. but in the end, atsumu can always tell, he's hurt nonetheless.

  "what are you still doing here?" atsumu is pulled from his thoughts when he looks up to see sakusa standing in the doorway, hand holding a decorated mug.

  he gets up from the chair, tossing his empty cup into the nearby trash can. walking over to sakusa, he peeks out the door and immediately gets to talking, "waiting for you! what happened with y/n? you haven't been answering any of my messages."

  "i haven't been because it's none of your business-"

  "you're my best friend of course it's my business. you two looked like you were having fun, like actual fun! something you never seem to indulge in. and then all of a sudden you're icing her out?" atsumu watches as sakusa sets a pod into the coffee machine, setting his mug below the spout.

  sakusa's jaw tightens and he keeps his eyes on the machine, unable to look at his friend. "we did have fun, but it's nothing more. i'm telling you now, nothing happened. we just had fun for one night and now we're coworkers again," he finally looks over at atsumu, noticing the way he immediately laughs, unbelieving. 

  "you're a fucking liar, sakusa. a fucking liar. 'nothing happened' you do know i know you by now? that i know when you've pulled away?" atsumu meets his gaze, making sure the two of them are on the same level, that they both know how unbelievably scared he is. 

  "what do you want me to say atsumu?"

  "that you'll talk to her, give it a chance. you’ve closed yourself off for far too long and it’s time to actually indulge in your feelings… which i know you have,” he grabs one of the bags of chips off of the counter, popping it open.

  sakusa looks back down at his mug as the coffee finishes flowing. there’s a part of him that knows that atsumu is right. that that night with you made him feel so free to be himself. to talk about things that he normally wouldn’t discuss with just a coworker. and yet he can’t help that bewildering feeling that forces him to back away before it gets too serious. 

  “i’ll try.. if you promise not to say anything else. you speak a word of this to y/n and i’m never going to onigiri miya with you again. and i’ll convince osamu to stop giving you free meals,” sakusa grabs a hold of his mug, listening to atsumu dig into the chips.

  atsumu narrows his eyes and nods, “okay, but if you pull away again, then i’m gonna hound you again. i’ll even shout it to the whole office.”

  rolling his eyes, sakusa gives atsumu a short wave and heads back to your booth. he walks down the same hallway he always walks but there’s an energy to him that he doesn’t normally have. he can feel his legs carrying longer strides, eager to get back to his seat. sakusa’s hands feel jittery, like he’s already had the full cup of coffee. however, he knows it’s because he’s still scared.

  he’s still scared to get to know you, to break down his walls and finally let someone in. it’s terrifying. yet he knows how freeing it could be to finally have someone to love. his hand grabs the door’s handle, a static charge shocking his finger, not helping with how fast his heart was already beating. 

  entering the booth, he looks over to where you typically sit. and there you are, some notes sprawled across the desk as you scroll through your computer’s list of songs. there’s a way you look so intriguing when you’re focused. fingers holding up your head from your temple to your cheek, biting your lip incessantly.

  sakusa almost thought he got out unscathed from looking at you for far too long, however, you quickly look up and meet his gaze. “good morning,” he nods, pursing his lips before heading off into his sound room.

  you let out a short sigh, eyes narrow as you look back at him, “good morning…”

  he wants to pretend like your cold demeanor isn’t his fault. however, sakusa tends to get a moment of clarity after his closures, realizing just how cold he can be towards others. and now, he’s just receiving the same treatment. doesn’t mean that he doesn’t look up at you every few seconds. from the moment you start the show to when you take your first break, sakusa is sure that you can feel his gaze boring into your face.

  much to his dismay, it seems your response to leave the room as quickly as you can, avoiding him at any and all costs. “i have some making up to do…”

taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@jadeoru @yessimo @lale-txt @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sugacor3

@quikhs @todorokiskitten @mollyrolls @honeyfewr @pookiebearcave

@phoenix-eclipses @madiexuberant @kameyyy @cr4yolaas @asrichin

@bakugouswh0r3 @bakingcuriosity @zazathezaer @diorzs @urslytherin

@ghostreader0307

[thesconesyard]

I’m done wrapping presents.

Anything else that needs to be gifted between now and xmas is getting thrown in a grocery sack with a bow vaguely thrown in its direction

[ghostedsilk]

"Mhm, should I shave?"

Toji's question makes you look up from your phone, only to be greeted by the sight of him staring into the mirror, rubbing his hand along the lower part of his face, turning it from side to side.

You level him with a deadpan face.

"You ask this now? After I've already complained to you several times in the past weeks?"

Toji being lazy is nothing new, and while he does take good care of himself (most of the time), there are certain things he tends to put off - things like shaving. Selectively lazy, you called him once, and he just shrugged.

Over the course of a few weeks, he has grown a stubble, and while you don't actually mind the look - in fact, you find that he looks a little too good with it -, it scratches your skin whenever he kisses you, whether it is on your face or on other parts of your body.

Ignoring your remark, he makes his way to the couch you’re lying on, leans over the headrest and throws an arm around your shoulders, his lips coming close to your face; but before they can make contact with you, you put a hand against his face and push him away.

"Nope. You're shaving first."

Your partner exhales unnecessarily loudly and grabs your wrist to remove your hand from his face. He clicks his tongue as he throws his head back into his neck.

"Too tired."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah,” he replies, lazily scratching the subject of your disdain.

You cross your arms over your chest, purse your lips, and narrow your eyes. You set your phone aside as an idea pops into your head.

"Then I'll do it."

And that's how you end up in your shared bathroom, with him sitting down on a small stool – which makes for a ridiculous picture since his bulky frame can barely fit on it and you're afraid it's about to break under his weight - while you stand in front of him, applying some shaving cream to his stubble.

Toji is wearing a loose tank top that shows off the bulging muscles in his big arms and his defined pecs, and a pair of gray sweatpants - a supposedly thoughtless combination that he pulled out of his closet, but he is more than aware of the effect this look has on you.

You stifle a snort as you notice him subtly flexing his muscles, obviously enticing you to admire them.

You instruct him to stay still as you hold a sharp tool against his face - but as predicted, the insufferably touchy man grabs at your waist, massages your thighs, playfully pinches your sides - the asshole that he is, he wants to see you squirm and hear you yelp.

"I'm gonna accidentally cut you if you don't keep your hands to yourself," you grumble, trying to slap his hands away and rolling your eyes when they don't bulge from where they rest. "Seriously. Control yourself."

"Can you blame me?" Toji counters, his grin all smug and mischief glinting in his forest green eyes as he cocks his head, "I like it when you take care of me."

As if to further prove that statement, his arms wrap around the back of your knees, holding onto them in a stone grip. Your mouth falls open to scold him again, but the warmth of his touch makes you close it and go soft. Bastard.

“Y’know, you're not bad at this," he chimes in, raising a brow at you, "you've done this for other men before?"

"Oh yeah, just last week for boyfriend number two."

Toji grunts, mouth pressed into a flat frown.

"Not funny."

"You're the one who asked a stupid question," you sing, nodding in his direction. "Besides, I should ask if I'm the first one to do this for you."

"You are,” he immediately replies, "wouldn't let anyone else get that close to my face with that thing."

You hum, "So you trust me. How sweet."

He grunts, again. You're pretty close to making fun of his dad noises.

"Do you actually not like my stubble?"

"It tickles and burns when you kiss me."

"You'd get over it."

"I'll stop kissing you if you keep it."

"…You don't mean that."

"You know I do."

Once he missed picking up Megumi from daycare because he fell asleep in front of the TV; so you, as petty as you are, decided to deprive him of all hugs and kisses, and walked away the moment he approached you, tried to reach out and pull you into the confines of his strong arms. You managed to last a week before your resolve crumbled. You blame the fact that you were ovulating during that week and the dejected looks he kept giving you.

Averting his eyes to the side, he gestures to you with a wave, "Aren't y'supposed to love me the way I am?"

"Sure, but my love grows even stronger when I can kiss you without any damage."

“So I’m harming you with that? Way to make me feel bad, I liked the look.”

"Grown man," you mumble under your breath, moving his head to the other side with a bit more force than probably needed - but still careful, of course. "Be glad that I'm doing this for you. Otherwise, you'd probably walk around with a full beard."

At that he squints his eyes.

"What's wrong with that?"

"You'd look too much like a man."

His nose scrunches up, the corners of his mouth drop down - that's his grumpy face.

"What's that supposed to mean? I am a man."

"Yeah, my handsome, pretty man who doesn't have a beard that will give me a bad rash.”

A huff leaves him, only emphasizing his grumbling.

"...Whatever."

His head tilts, allowing you to carefully run the razor across the lower part of his face and the underside of his chiselled jaw. He leans into your touch, letting himself be vulnerable despite the supposed simplicity of the task.

You know what it means to be able to do that to him. It's not as insignificant as it might seem at first.

A few seconds of silence go by, but then, "Can I kiss you now?”

So needy.

When you first started seeing each other, Toji was all cocky and nonchalant, but when you finally got together, he started clinging to you, following you around like a lost puppy who refuses to let you out of his sight. It's endearing, you suppose - especially since you (and everyone else) didn't expect him to act this way.

"I'm not done yet."

All of a sudden he leans back to free himself from your grasp and get out of your reach, now holding both your wrists in his calloused palms as he stares directly into your eyes, forcing you into a silent debate. Finally, you let out a tired sigh, though you can't stop a grin from tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Okay, just one quick ki-"

Before you can finish your sentence, the plush of his lips meets yours and you melt into each other, not even noticing the shaving cream on his face transfer to yours. Instead of pushing him away this time, you instinctively deepen the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck, letting him nibble on your lower lip until he slowly pulls away.

His mouth twitches as he opens his eyes and zeroes in on a certain spot. A finger comes up to your face, wipes something away, and then shows the shaving cream on it that came from your face.

"Want me to shave your stubble too?"

The slap you give his broad shoulder doesn't move him a millimeter, but it makes him shake with laughter.

"Shut up."

[emmyrosee]

They’re loud in the living room.

Hinata, curled happily with a bag of chips on the floor, adjacent to Bokuto and Atsumu sat sprawled out on the couch, while Kiyoomi was as collected as could be on the free cushion, hands folded in his lap with his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes followed the plays on screen. You watch as they cheer and hoot at the saves and spikes, groaning when one team scores and cheering when theirs does.

It’s a scene that you’d love to see over and over again.

It’s also a scene you love to mess the serenity of.

“Sakusa,” you call from your perch in the doorway, and immediately, all heads whip to you. Kiyoomi tenses up, Atsumu sits up straight and Bokuto blinks owlishly, and from the floor, Hinata’s head cocks to the side in interest. “Can you come here for a sec?”

Childishly, the other three men offer him a collective “oooo,” to which your boyfriend scowls at. He quickly gets onto his feet and makes his way into the kitchen with you, panic on his features.

“Is everything okay?” He asks.

You nod, “yes. Can you reach that bowl up there?”

Immediately, Kiyoomi reaches up and grabs the bowl on the high shelf, bringing it down before cradling it to his chest, “I put this bowl here; is that why you’re mad?”

“I’m not mad,” you say simply.

“You called me Sakusa,” he pouts in fear. “You don’t call me sakusa. They do.”

“But that’s your name?”

“Not to you,” he says. “No, no- you call me the utmost feral things you can call someone, yet now you want to be formal, I don’t like that. What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, just give me the bowl,” you say, finding slight amusement at this charade. He winces and slowly passes you the bowl, but when you open your mouth to thank him, he immediately wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a kiss, the bowl pressing between you. You merely giggle as he pulls back to sponge kisses on your face.

“I’m sorry,” he says between kisses. “Tell me what I did wrong.” He follows with another kiss. “I never want to make you mad.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you I love you I love you-“

“Okay!” You giggle. “I know you do!”

“Say it back,” he grumbles.

You roll your eyes and cup his cheeks, making him look at you while you press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I love you. I promise I’m not mad.”

“You’re not? You’re sure?”

“I was messing with you, my love,” you snort. Then, you nod towards the door, “you guys can’t be the only ones having fun tonight. I have to keep you on your toes.” You gently poke his stomach, grinning as he yelps and moves away. When your eyes flick to the doorway, there’s three curious heads watching the scene unfold. Two of them watch happily- the blonde one looks more than mischievous as he absorbs this new level of blackmail.

You smile and kiss his cheek, “go, watch your game with the boys. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

“Okay,” he sighs, voice much lighter than moments before. You watch as all three heads dash from the doorway to go back to the couch, swift to avoid Kiyoomi’s wrath. “I love you.” He takes a step back, “love you. I love you!” He makes his way to the threshold, “I love you!”

“I love you too,” you chuckle back.

“I love you twice as much!”

“GOD, YOU HAVE GUESTS OVER!” Atsumu gags.

“You’re just bitter because you can’t get a text back,” Kiyoomi hisses, and you can’t help but laugh at the switch from baby voice to stern, firm voice. He flashes you a wink before making his way back to the couch, and when you peek out at the furniture again, he’s in a headlock by Bokuto, his hair being ruffled in a way you know he’s going to complain about later.

Half heartedly, of course.

[yeagersss]

Sukuna x f!Reader

In which Sukuna brings home child Uraume — 1

next —>

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief as you stared at the child hiding behind your husband's legs and peaking at you.

Sukuna didn't pay attention to your questioning stare, he simply sauntered in to your shared home and tossed the meat he had hunted on the table. As if it was just an average day for the two of you.

Except it wasn't because there was a child right next to him.

"Um... Love?" You questioned softly.

"What?" He grunted.

"Mind telling me who... that is?"

Sukuna crossed his upper arms while resting his lower on his hips. He shrugged. "Our ice house is no more. This child can create ice so I brought them home."

Of course he did. Leave it to your husband to replace an actual functioning cooler with a literal child.

Speaking of a cooler...

"The icehouse is broken? I swear it was perfectly fine when I went there this morning..." You mused.

But a quick glance outside the window confirmed that it was indeed broken. Crushed by a tree and blood splattered everywhere from the meat stored inside of it.

And just one look at the fallen tree, you can tell what—no, who was responsible for this destruction. There was a large, clean cut right at its base.

You turned to your husband with an accusing frown but he opted to not look at you. He knows that the moment he locked eyes with you, he'll have to face your wrath and.... He'd rather not.

You sighed and shook your head before walking over to the child who stepped away from you the moment you got closer.

You stopped, keeping your distance and smiled kindly. "It's okay. Don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you."

Your voice was soft, your eyes were kind so when the child looked up at Sukuna and saw the way he was looking at you, they knew you were trustworthy.

And yet...

"You won't harm me but... I can harm you." Was what the child spoke.

Your heart sank at their words and the way they looked away. Their gaze was an empty and distant void. This poor child...

But the King of Curses scoffed at their words. "Go to her. As long as I am here you cannot harm her."

You were surprised at how this child had came to trust Sukuna that they took his word and slowly stepped over to you. Besides you, no one else in this land would ever dare trust him. Then again, your husband never gave them a reason to.

You went down on your knees to be at the child's level. A small, loving smile graced your features as you reached over to brush your fingers against their cheek.

Ice cold.

But that didn't stop you as you brushed their hair in comfort. "You poor thing... Just what have you been through?" You asked softly.

The child kept quiet, their eyes gathered with unshed tears. They closed it to stop them from flowing down. And then, very very tentatively they leaned into your touch.

"...You're warm." They mumbled.

Your heart warmed at those soft words. You were happy that this child had found comfort in you.

Despite being the King of Curses' wife, you loved children. You always wanted one of your own. You had even managed to convince your husband to have a child together.

But those dreams were far gone when you found out you were infertile.

It took a while but you had gotten over it. Though part of you still wished that you can have that. A small family with your husband.

So when you looked up at Sukuna, that's when you noticed his gaze. A look that was only reserved for you. Tender, soft and... loving. But there was another meaning behind it...

This is my gift to you.

Your heart leaped and you felt tears gathering in your eyes. The smile you gave him was nothing short of radiant that had him looking away from you. But you knew he was flustered just from the red tint on the tip of his ears.

You laughed softly and got on your feet, gently pulling the child close to you. "What's your name, little one?"

"Uraume."

You hummed. "Uraume... What a beautiful name. Are you hungry, Uraume?"

Uraume felt their stomach grumble just then so they softly nodded.

"Very well, then I'll get started on dinner."

Uraume looked up at you, their pinkish eyes staring at you with a curious glint. "Can I help?" They asked.

You smiled, running a gentle hand through their white hair.

"Of course."

next —>

[m0llygunn]

a job well done (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

summary: long-term admirer, recent tutor — you find out eddie's failing gym. in an ode to help him, your expertise expands beyond just textbooks — to your fortune, he teaches you something you've been dying to learn too

contents: 18+, smut!!!, porn with plot, lots of ball action <3, oral (m receiving, mentions of f receiving), pet names and praise (baby, good girl), somewhat-inexperienced!eddie, tutor!reader an: i made an $8k mistake irl so heres 8k words that i wrote to forget about it (just kidding (not abt the mistake, that's very real) i started writing this in july 2023 but recently rewrote most of it to make it into a big ol' one shot-ish thing) wc: 8.5k

“You’re failing gym?” you gasp, jaw dropping as your eyes scan over his report.

“No!” he replies, trying to steal the envelope and its contents from your hands. You turn your body just in time for him to grasp at nothing but air. 

You started tutoring Eddie about a month into the semester. He’s been a willing participant for the most part and that’s why when he kept coming up with excuse after excuse for why he didn’t have his midterm report you knew something was up. 

You took it upon yourself to do some investigating. Nothing invasive, just when you got to his place for a regular tutoring session, you decided to look through his bag while he was in the bathroom. On his bedroom floor, filing through the bags endless messy contents, you eventually came across the familiarly coloured yellow envelope and helped yourself to a peek at what he was keeping a secret from you. 

Mere moments later, he was back. He immediately noticed what you had in your hands and crashed to the floor trying to get it away from you. Evidently, a failed attempt. 

“You have a — oh god, not just a D, a D minus, Eddie.” 

“That’s not failing,” he mumbles under his breath. You wave him off before dropping his report to the floor in front of you. He grabs it, crumples it into a ball, and petulantly tosses it to the other side of his room. 

“You never even told me you were taking gym.”

“Cause how’re you supposed to help with gym?”

“The tests! There’s a whole health portion, I could’ve been helping you with that,” you say, getting worked up over it. Eddie’s been doing so well, this was truly blindsiding.

“Yeah… cause I really want help from you with the health portion,” he grumbles sarcastically. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like it means,” he shrugs. 

If you weren’t paying attention, you might think he was angry — maybe even being mean. Luckily, you’re always paying attention to Eddie Munson, and you see the way his face flushes to a bright, crimson red. His annoyance is actually just embarrassment — which is good — at least he has some level of remorse for his failing grade. You can work with that. You take a breath, exhaling it slowly, forcing yourself to calm down. 

“Show me what you’re working on.”

“No,” he shakes his head, reaching into his bag, shuffling around some papers before tossing a heavy textbook your way. “Let’s just do math.”

“No, you have a B minus in math now, that doesn’t need help. You need help in gym.” you reply, tossing the textbook back at him. 

“I don’t.”

“Eddie, you do.”

Sitting up to your knees, you reach into his bag once more, taking out his binder and dropping it to the floor in a pointed thump. He mumbles some kind of disagreement, spine going stiff with his hesitancy to let you go through his stuff some more, but he doesn’t make any attempts to physically stop you. 

You flip through the disorganization that you’ve told him countless times to organize until you come across a diagram of a penis and a vagina. Bingo.

“Told you,” he mumbles, scoffing to himself. 

“Told me what?”

“Why would you want to help me study that?” 

“Uh— cause it’s part of your class and I don’t want you to fail,” you say matter of factly. “Believe it or not, Eddie, I like you, and your success translates to my happiness.” 

Bright red continues to flourish across his skin, affecting the apples of his cheeks all the way down to his throat. He turns bashful, eyes locking down on the carpet. 

Eddie’s shy — not often, but he is. You wouldn’t think so from the way he acts at school and in most public atmospheres, but get him in a room, one-on-one, and he’s all blushed cheeks and shy touches. It’s sweet and it’s one of your favourite things about him — but you don’t have time for sweet shyness right now. He’s failing gym for christ sake — gym.

“So, how do you want to do this?” you ask, slapping your hands to your thighs. Eddie startles, jolting before his wide eyes find yours. 

“Do what?”

“Study this,” you motion to the diagram on the floor separating the two of you.

“I— I’m not… we’re not—“

His eye contact goes rogue again, diverting anywhere else — everywhere else that isn’t you. Shy, shy, shy. Too shy. More shy than normal. And you have an inkling that it has to do with the subject of the conversation at hand. 

“Oh my god, Eddie. This is basic human anatomy. I think we’re grown up enough to handle a little penis and vagina,” you state, tacking on a laugh. 

You get a hint of Eddie's true personality beyond his shyness — it emerges through a quirk of his lip, the corner of it tweaking upwards into the hint of a smirk. 

“A little penis?” He parrots, his smirk fully emerging now. This boy.

“Cue cards? Should we do cue cards?”

He groans, body deflating. “You know I hate cue cards.”

“Okay, so let’s just go over the parts for now, then we can move on and do something else.”

You clear out a bigger area on the floor, making space for your study session. Eddie helps by kicking back stray articles of clothing and then picking out what looks like spilled weed from the carpet and collecting it in the palm of his hand. You’re a touch more productive, taping little pieces of paper over the diagram labels. When you’re done, you sit up admiring your work. Eddie stands, dropping his little handful of greenery onto his desk before sitting down on his bed. 

“Do you want to do it up there or down here?” You ask. 

The slight double entendre isn’t lost on you, you heard it before you even said it. Now knowing how shy Eddie is about this stuff, you couldn’t help but push your luck, and the blush that spreads across his cheeks makes it entirely worth it, especially while you deadpan and pretend you have no clue. 

“I’ll come down there—“ He says and you watch him physically recoil as his words set in. You resist your laughter. 

“Come, Eddie. Faster,” you tease, laughter starting to bubble up. A smile breaks through his embarrassment.

“Jesus Christ, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You like seeing me suffer?”

“Me? Teasing you on purpose? Never.”

With a shake of his head, he joins you on the floor, leaving a large gap between the two of you. “Can we not do this, I already know this stuff.”

“Oh yeah? Eddie Munson is well versed in human anatomy?”

“I’m — I’m not going to answer that,” he crosses his arms. 

With a clap of your hands, you ignore his pouty demeanor. “Okay! Let’s just do this, the quicker you memorize everything the quicker we can not do this.”

With both of the diagrams set up, you give him the option of starting with the penis or vagina first. He chooses the easy answer, opting to go with the penis. 

One by one you point out each part of the penis, asking him for the anatomically correct name. You quickly understand why he’s failing. 

“Okay, and this one is…?”

“The head,” he states. 

“I mean… sure,” you nod hesitantly — “but the little arrow is pointing there — the glans. This one?”

You continue going through the chart, teaching Eddie the proper names for everything. When you finally graduate to the diagram of the vagina, Eddie is physically squirming in his spot. 

“Eddie, relax. Seriously. We’ve all seen a vagina before.”

“It’s so fucking hot in here, are you hot?” He groans, standing up and tripping his way to the window, slamming it open with a grunt. 

He’s barely made his way back before you have a thought.

“You’ve seen a vagina before, right?” 

He freezes — just for a moment, but you catch it. On his way to return to his spot on the floor he pauses, then continues moving as if you haven’t asked him a question. When he sits, you quirk a brow. 

“Yeah!” He answers. His voice tunes so high, it begs to crack.

You nod skeptically. You wouldn’t say he’s lying per se, but something seems off. Something that you’re interested in getting to the bottom of. 

“Let’s take a break, okay?” You offer.

“Yeah, a break’s, uh — good.” He exhales, letting out a breath of relief. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, fanning it in and out, getting some air flow on his skin. It’s very suspicious and you have to assume —

“So, you’ve never seen a vagina,” you say.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “I have! I’m not a virgin.”

“You’re squirming like one.”

“I’m not!”

“There’s nothing wrong —”

“I’m not!” He says much louder, cutting you off. 

You believe him, seeing the full depth of sincerity in his amusedly large, and overly serious eyes. 

“Okay,” you nod.

“I’m not,” he insists once more, tone leaning towards stern. 

“I believe you, Eddie.”

The two of you sit quietly in your respective spots. You could busy yourself with getting some more studying stuff ready, but somehow — even though there was some verbal finality — this conversation doesn’t seem over. 

And with an inhale from Eddie, it’s not.

“I’ve just never been like…” he pauses, thinking, “I’ve just never been all up in there.” He makes a crude motion with his hands, both palms splayed out flat in your direction, moving outwards like he’s spreading something out. 

“You’ve never eaten a girl out before?”

“What are we doing?” He says, dropping his head into his hands, scrubbing at his cheeks with both palms. 

“You don’t have to answer. Seriously, if I’m really making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop. Swear.”

His chest inflates with a deep breath, then his head pops up. “I have but only for like a minute, in the dark, parked outside of the hideout after a gig,” he confesses. You raise your brows, surprised.

“You work quickly. A minute, that’s impressive.”

“No… Jesus, no,” he winces. “I fucking wish. We got interrupted and… yeah she never wanted to hang out after.”

“Oh,” you hum. “That sucks.” You tilt your head at him, frowning apologetically. 

“Yeah. She, uh, I’m pretty sure she had a boyfriend but I didn’t know when we… yeah.” He concludes his confession with a shrug before sitting back to lean against the side of his bed. 

“That really sucks. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, tacking on a laugh. It’s not a nervous laugh. It’s genuine and you take his lack of nervousness as permission to continue the conversation. 

“So… Do you have a tactic?”

“Tactic?”

“Yeah. Like, most guys use the alphabet on the clit thing, which is awful by the way, don’t do that.”

“I think…” he raises his brows. “I think, maybe, just being overzealous is my thing. I don’t really know — I haven't done it enough to have a tactic.”

“Overzealous is good…” you nod, “as long as it’s strategic.”

Eddie meets your gaze. He’s intrigued — “Elaborate?” he asks. 

“Like, sure if you want to go to town and eat the pussy, go for it, but the only place it really counts is the clit — of course everything else is nice too, but the clit is definitely where it matters,” you nod to yourself, punctuating your statement. “And—” you add on, raising your hand, bringing together two of your fingers to mime the curling motions of getting fingered. “I like when they use their fingers too. It's a lot better like that.”

Eddie goes silent. He looks like he’s thinking, maybe even committing your words to memory— but it’s an odd look he has on his face. One you’ve never seen before from him.

“Sorry, did I say too much?” You laugh, trying to diffuse. Eddie looks at you, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

“Why the fuck are you tutoring me in going down on a girl right now?” He laughs. 

You smile, appreciating his amusement. Tilting your head boastfully, you accept his comment like a compliment. “Just a natural born teacher, I guess,” you tease. 

He nods, humming agreeingly. He doesn’t say anything more but you’ve got a handful of curiosities burning through your back pocket, and when in rome…

“Are we done with this conversation,” you ask, “or can we keep going ‘cause I might have a few questions for you?”

“Hasn't this whole conversation already been an interrogation of my experiences?”

“But this might be your only opportunity to teach me something, Edward.” You jet out your lower lip, pouting it, rounding your eyes at him — trying your best to keep this going. 

He rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. 

“Are you about to ask me if I can move my dick without my hands, because the answer is yes but it’s not full control.”

“That’s not what I was gonna ask, but very cool.”

“Sorry. That’s usually what girls ask.”

That has been a curiosity but your questions… your questions are much more… sophisticated? 

“So can I?” you ask. 

“Can you?”

“Ask you questions?”

He bites his lip, pointedly making you sweat it out. With a dramatic sigh, he gives in. “Go for it.”

You sit up straighter, very pleased with his answer. 

“Balls,” you state. Eddie’s eyes widen immediately — you ignore the regret that flashes across his face. “Do you like them being touched? Every time I’ve done anything with them, the guy kind of, like, recoils and it feels like I did something wrong.” 

“Jesus…” he clears his throat with an awkward laugh. “You’re really going for the big questions, huh?” 

“The big questions?” You raise your eyebrows suggestively. 

“No, Jesus I’m not implying my balls are — holy shit. My balls are normal sized, that’s not what I meant.” He continues to laugh through his embarrassment, cheeks heating right back up to that very cute, bright, red colour. 

“I’m just teasing you, Eddie. I’m sure your balls are lovely and perfectly normal sized.”

He hums appreciatively but it gets stuck in his throat, coming out as a high pitched croak. He clears his voice, nodding as he raises a hand to the back of his neck, wringing it nervously.

“You don’t have to answer, but I would appreciate knowing,” you say, softly, sympathetic — leaning into apologetic. He nods again, and you can tell the gears are spinning in his head as he thinks over his answer. 

“They’re just… sensitive,” he swallows. “But… I do like them being played with, or sucked, or licked… or whatever.” 

His eyes focus on the far wall, not out of nervousness or shyness this time, but more like he’s giving his words some real thought. You appreciate it and wait patiently for him to continue. 

“I guess I would have to say that it’s personal preference, so ask?” he continues unsurely, eyes still focusing elsewhere. “I mean, no guy is ever gonna be mad if you ask to put their balls in your mouth — or… whatever you want to do with them.” He looks at you with wide eyes as he suddenly gets nervous again. You wave him off, letting him silently know that ‘balls in your mouth’ is not an offense to you.

“Could you cum from someone playing with your balls?”

“Holy shit,” he gasps, laughing. His hand that was wringing his neck drops to his lap in a heavy thud. At the same time, he brings up both knees, hugging them halfways to his chest as he mulls over his answer. “Um? Maybe? But, I think a big part of it is a visual thing — like, it adds to the hotness when they’re into the balls?” He finishes, adding an unsure inflection to the end of his remark. You nod, narrowing your eyes into a squint as you absorb what he’s saying. 

“So it doesn’t feel good?”

“It does,” he quickly corrects, “just anything on the head feels way better.” 

“Okay… good to know.” You nod, moving on. “And dirty talk. You really like that? Like, when the girl’s going on and on about your ‘big cock in her tight little pussy’, is it not weird?”

“Jesus, you really aren’t holding back with these questions.” He smiles through the blotchy redness growing down his neck all the way to the collar of his shirt.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you promise, dipping your face lower to catch Eddie’s gaze. He holds it for a second, before letting his eyes roam the room. 

“Dirty talk is hot, obviously, but… it’s not when it’s rehearsed shit like that. It makes it feel like they’re performing — and maybe I’m just doing a piss poor job and they are performing — I don’t know, but I’d rather hear about what you actually like that I’m doing. Even if you’re telling me to go faster or harder or whatever. That’s fucking hot.”

“Alright, so be genuine. Cool,” you nod. 

“You done with questions?” He meets your gaze with raised brows for a fraction of a brave second before quickly looking away. 

The thing is, you’re not done. 

“So, hypothetically, if someone you didn’t like played with only your balls, and it wasn’t hot— like nothing about it was hot, would you still cum?”

He doesn’t give you the same surprised initial shock as he did with all the other questions. This time he just lets out a long, evenly staggered breath through puffed out cheeks. 

“I think…” He hugs his knees closer to his chest, rubbing both his palms along his shins quickly, filling the silence with the sounds of skin on denim. 

You can see the edge of his words in his expression, like he wants to say something but is holding it back. Whatever it is, you wait patiently — you do sit up a little straighter though, eagerly leaning inwards, listening with baited breath to his quiet, pensive hum.

His lips twitch, mouth opening then closing. With a loud exhale, he lets go of his shins, letting his knees drop from their upright position, and with that, his resolve breaks.  

“Fuck it” he curses — “Probably. Sometimes I think that the wind blowing the wrong way could make me cum. Like, I’m fighting for my fucking life to not get hard right now.”

He ends his speed-run confession with a pant, chest shallowly heaving with each breath. Excited wings beat inside your chest, dipping down to your belly as you absorb what he's just said to you. 

“Really?” you ask, blinking wide eyes at him. His breathing evens out, and he meets your gaze.

“Yeah,” he shrugs shyly — cutely.

“You know I like you, right?” 

His face falls. “What?” His brows press together, furrowing with confusion and you really don’t know how you could have been clearer about this whole ordeal.

“Eddie,” you smile. “I’ve told you like a million times that I like you — like earlier, I told you barely an hour ago before we got started.”

You said it quite plainly too; ‘Believe it or not, Eddie, I like you, and your success translates to my happiness.’ 

“Yeah, but I thought you meant as a… a person? Or a friend?”

You can’t help but laugh — not at him… well, a little bit at him, but this is just so ridiculous, how could he be so clueless. 

“I love my friends but I don’t think I would fill all my free time teaching them math and all the anatomical correct names of the different parts of the penis.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, they’re good people but that’s not exactly my idea of fun,” you tease. “Of course I’m serious, Eddie. So if you wanted to make a move… I wouldn’t be opposed.” 

At this point, after a confession as straightforward as that, you’d hope for movement — anything — even him getting closer to you, moving in for a kiss at the very least… but he stays sat in his opposite spot, his binder with the vagina diagram laid out flat, separating the both of you. 

Maybe you read this wrong — backpedal. 

“Did I just make this weird? Should I have not said that? I like tutoring you too, I don’t want you to think I’m expecting something from you just because I’ve been helping you.” You ramble apologetically, shrinking into yourself as you feel your whole body start to flush with icky embarrassment.

Eddie’s spine goes rigid as he sits up pin-straight, shaking his head emphatically.

“No! I like you too,” he interjects, leaning towards you, putting a hand on your knee. “Even before you started tutoring me.” 

“You do?” You sigh a breath of relief. Meeting his eyes, you smile sweetly, ignoring the whiplash that still has your stomach pinched in a half knot.

His voice gets soft with his confession — “Why do you think I didn’t want to sit around looking at penises and vaginas with you?” he laughs quietly,  “I was terrified of getting hard and scaring you away.”

The mention of him getting hard has your eyes flickering downwards for a split second. You can’t tell, but you tease him anyway — “And how’s that working out for you?”

“If you’re asking if I’m hard…” He trails off, smiling nervously, leaving you with a confirmed suspicion. 

“Should I make a move?” 

“Well, I’m not opposed.” He says it like it’s a joke — you know he’s being funny, breaking tension or whatever, but you don’t laugh. You perk up, tummy filling with fluttery feelings because that’s permission.

Permission to crawl the short distance between the two of you.

Permission to help yourself to his lap — pulling your skirt up high enough to straddle his upper thighs.

Permission to let your hands feel from his shoulders, down to his pecks. 

Permission to be this close to him — close enough that you can see every shy detail, every cute freckle, every nervous flutter of his lashes. 

Best of all — it’s permission for an intimacy you’ve been waiting for — longing for.

You sink yourself against him and — “Oh,” you gasp, “you weren’t kidding.” 

Through the thin cotton of your underwear, you feel the hard curve behind the zip of his jeans. It has you biting your lip, holding back your grin. 

His eyes coast your features, narrowing in on the tweaked up corners of your lips. He ghosts a quiet ‘yeah’, dipping his face downwards, hiding his own coy smile. 

You just won’t have that — you bring your hands to his cheeks, tilting his chin upwards, encouraging him to look at you. He lets you guide him, lets you wash your gaze over his features — lets you rake your eyes over every detail, even when his skin grows pink and you know he wants you to be looking anywhere else.

But you can’t help it. The rosy tint to his cheeks looks too warm, too inviting. His lips are just too pink, too bitten. And most of all, his eyes have become too deep, too capturing, especially when the usual gold in his brown has resolved to being just the thinnest ring, glinting and shimmering around absorbing black orbs.

“Your eyes are really dark right now,” you observe aloud. 

“Yeah?” He asks and you nod your head. You watch him as he lets his own gaze search your face. He swallows, coming to his own conclusion. “You just looked amused.”

You smile. You are amused but — “I’m not just amused.”

“No?” 

“I’m also really turned on.” You feel it in your belly, multitudes of warm winged flutters, sitting low, radiating heat throughout your whole body. You lean in closer, watching intently as his brows rise, moving to hide beneath his bangs as he processes your second confession of the evening.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Want to know what I’m thinking about?”

He swallows thickly, and that golden ring in his eyes gets the faintest bit thinner.

“I do.”

You sit more comfortably, bringing your hands back to his chest and letting your bum press fully to his thighs. He lets out a near silent groan as your front sinks to his and when you adjust your hips, his hands dart to your sides, holding you tightly. 

“First,” you smile, batting your lashes at him. “I’m thinking about kissing you.” A soft swoon washes over Eddie's face, eyes turning soft for you. His eyes blink down to your lips, but you have more to say. “I’m also thinking about your balls in my mouth.”

The softness steps back, shock taking over. “Jesus christ,” he curses yet again, drawing out each syllable in a low groan. 

“And since I’ve been sitting here, I can’t help but think about how your cock would feel inside of me.”

“Fuck.” He meets your gaze, eyes rounding, jaw going slack. His chest begins to rise more rapidly, his breathing growing heavier. 

The feeling of him between your legs is undeniable now — he’s hard, very hard, uncomfortably hard. You let your hands slide up his chest, to his shoulders, letting your fingertips graze along the warm skin of his neck. He blinks heavily, eyelids growing weighted, swarming with evident lust. It makes you excited, makes you want more. 

You lower your voice to a breathy whisper, leaning in closer, letting your lips graze the shell of his ear.  “How’s the dirty talk, Eddie? Am I doing good?” You purr. His fingers pinch into the flesh at your sides as you shift once again, rolling your hips just enough to feel that hint of pleasure between your thighs. 

Eddie stifles his moan. “S– so good. You’re doing so g-good,” he stutters. His breath hitches as you press a kiss to the edge of his jaw, and then another, moving downwards to his neck. 

“What are you thinking about?” You pull away, looking at him through your lashes. You barely have a second to react before his hands are on your jaw, tugging you into him. 

It catches you off guard at first as his lips mash to yours. It’s entirely overzealous, bidding his earlier statement true by multiple definitions. It’s not terrible, but it is desperate. 

Flattening a heeding palm to his chest, you pull away just the slightest bit, letting your lips faintly graze his. 

“Slowly, Eddie.” you whisper. 

His interrupted desperation manifests as a quiet huff against your lips. Regardless of how hard he is beneath you, and how badly he wants to mash his mouth to yours, he nods, noses bumping together as he does.

This time you lean in. You guide the kiss, moving slowly, tenderly, and he follows your lead, moving gently, catching on quickly. Your upper lip presses between both of his and it's so delicate, so earnest, that it makes your heart thrum. It's exactly what you needed, and you reward Eddie with a quiet hum, letting your hands wrap behind his neck, pressing your chests together. 

His breath fans over your skin as he hums back, letting his hands glide to your lower back, hugging you closer. His lips massage yours, slowly, and he takes his time, letting you melt into him entirely. 

When you feel the pressure of his tongue licking across your lower lip your anticipation really sets in. You open your mouth, rolling your hips upwards as you move in closer to him. With a huffed, eager grunt, and with fingers kneading bruises into your skin, he licks into your mouth completely contradictory to it all, still giving you softness in the kiss. You’re elated by it all, swept up, enraptured by him being so sweet to you.

You sigh breathily as you have to pull away. 

“That was really good,” you fawn, dropping your head to rest against his shoulder. You let out another sigh, smiling contently to yourself. You’ve been wanting to do that for a long time — really too long, if you’re being honest. 

Eddie hums an agreement. You intend to go further than just a kiss, but you give yourself a moment to bask in it all. Just a moment, that’s all you need. 

And in the next moment, with your wits gathered, you wiggle your hips. Eddie’s palms press tightly against your back and he lets out a sharp gasp that melds into a whimper. You giggle a quiet apology. 

“Too much for you?” you tease.

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head, his warm cheek pressing to yours. “M’just really hard right now.”

He is — you can feel it, and you can feel the mess growing between your own thighs. 

A simple solution; you hint at rolling your hips another time. It’s hardly any friction, just testing the waters. You’re surprised when Eddie pulls you inwards, guiding your hips, encouraging you to move. He lets out a low groan as the squish of your thighs pass over his length, one that you hardly register over your own gasp as you get your first real hint of pleasure.

With his help, you build a slow rhythm, grinding to the curve in his denim, one that has your eyes fluttering shut and Eddie tensing, letting out meak whimpers and low moans. It's nice, it really is, but as nice as it feels for you, you weave a hand between the two of you, suggestively placing it on the buckle of his belt.  

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Yes,” his voice comes out as a heaved breath. Very eager to continue.

“After you cum, how long does it take for you to get hard again?”

“Sh-shit — it depends. Sometimes —” he swallows thickly and you hear the gulp in his throat — “sometimes it’s barely a few minutes.”

“I want to try out what you taught me, but I want you to fuck me too.”

“We can — yeah we can do that.” His voice wavers as he bites back his excitement, trying to play it cool. Despite that, you feel the overzealousness in his pants, twitching with enthusiasm. 

You press a chaste kiss to his lips before scooting back on his legs, weaving your hands between the two of you to pop open his belt. Just as you unweave the leather and toss the heavy buckle to the side, holding the button under your thumb, Eddie’s hand meets your waist — not stopping you, just getting your attention. 

“Can I…” he starts. You look up at him, pausing your movement. He continues, “can I try what you told me too?” His eyes barely meet yours, growing bashful all over again. 

“Of course you can,” you say sincerely. You finish unbuttoning his pants, tugging the zipper down while leaning in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You don’t gotta be shy, Eddie. I like you already, a lot.” 

He nods, but you can still see a hint of cautiousness in his expression. 

“I’m serious, Eddie. I want you to be comfortable with me. Anything you need, anything you want, you can tell me.” 

He nods. His mouth mulls for a moment, but he nods a second time, assumedly coming to a conclusion. “Can we move up to the bed?” he asks. 

“I’d like that,” you smile and he smiles back.

Just as you lift your leg to get off him, you let out a surprised yelp as he does the bravest thing he’s done yet, both hands grabbing firmly at your bottom, tugging you into him and up as he pushes himself off the floor. He moves the both of you up to the edge of the bed with one strong flex of his legs and your stomach swirls with the rush of it all. 

From there, it's a giggling tussle of limbs, him pulling you up the bed, you pulling his pants off. Eventually, you both settle, him pantless, sitting with his back to the wall where his headboard should be, and you, by his side, knees pressing to his thigh. Your fingers wiggle with excitement as you take the thin cotton of his boxers, lacing them just under the waistband. 

You shimmy in your spot, shaking your hips, letting out a happy hum as you begin to pull them down. Your belly fills with good nerves, butterflies, and your mouth salivates. When you get them down as far as you can without his help, he silently chimes in, lifting his hips, hooking his own thumbs into the material. With a quiet humph, the fabric passes his length, freeing it to bob against his shirt-covered belly. 

Tempestuously red. Furiously flushed. Severely erect. Poor Eddie. Happy you. His tip is blushed to a deep crimson, glistening with the pearlescent sheen of precum. It has your body flushing hot everywhere — from your cheeks all the way south to where you grind yourself down onto the backs of your heels just to feel a pinch of salvation. 

Somewhere between where your ogling started and where you had to physically swallow the gathering saliva in your mouth, his boxers got discarded entirely, your own shirt disappearing along with them — because it is just so hot all of a sudden.  

If you weren’t completely blinded by your impeding tunnel vision, you would have seen the way Eddie gawked at your newly revealed skin, absorbing every inch, taking in every feature to your body. You would have seen the way his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and the fresh cherry red blush spread to his cheeks. You would have seen the way he had to forcefully peel his eyes away from your chest when he felt your fingers press into his bare thighs as you situated yourself between his legs. But you didn’t have a chance to notice all of those details, not when you felt the thrilling thrum of anticipation bubbling up in your bloodstream. 

“You ready, Eddie?” You ask, grinning at him. He blinks slowly at you, no answer, making your smile falter.

“You look pretty,” he blurts out, much to your delight. “Really pretty. All the time — not just now because you're about to — you’re just beautiful, s’what I want to say.”

“Thank you,” you say, pleasantly surprised. Eddie on the other hand, cringes at his own rambling, face scrunching in defeat. You like him even more for it — “I think you’re beautiful too, Eddie,” you smile. “And not just because I have your pretty cock in front of me.” 

Eddie huffs a soft laugh and you gleam, pleased with yourself. 

With actual consent, you take him in your hand. Gentle at first, easing him into your touch. Just barely grazing your thumb over the tip, you smear the slick precum around, before sinking your fist to his base. He lets out a tensed moan, exhaling — exhilarating. That quiet, throaty noise has you lighting up, already feening for more.

Leaning down further, arching your back, you gather your saliva in your mouth before letting it spill out in a single string over the tip of his needy head, falling down just to be caught by the upwards rise of your fist. This time he sucks in a sharp breath and you live for it. 

Closing the distance between your mouth and his cock, you lick the tip gently, pressing your tongue to the river of precum that sits in the curves of his slit, relishing in the saltiness that makes your mouth water effortlessly. You hum, feeling the pulse between your legs grow deeper, more intense. You push your hips back, angling them, searching for any sort of relief. 

While it doesn’t satiate the need between your thighs, Eddie notices your squirm, and brings a splayed palm to your side, letting it curve to your skin. It settles in, warming you, encouraging you to distract yourself in such a beautiful way by taking him into your mouth. 

You let your tongue swirl. Flick. Caress. Your lips graze before closing, and you suck. Cheeks hardly hollowing, the noise he lets out makes you want to keep being gentle — draw this out, make this last. 

But like a devil on your shoulder, you want to skip forward. You want his balls in your mouth, that’s the guise of this whole encounter, isn’t it? To practice what he’s taught you.

Jumping right to the chase, abandoning his desperately swollen cock, doesn’t strike you as the way to go about this, so you continue to be gentle. Pulling off the tip, kissing him up and down his length. Pressing your lips where needed and drawing circles and lovey hearts across his skin with the pointed angle of your tongue.

It's not fruitless. Every noise, every groan, every heavy breath, pleading whimper, fills you up. It fills you up until it has you leaning your body into his hand on your rib cage, needing to feel him wherever you can, while taking him fully into your mouth. Swallowing him down, deeply hollowing your cheeks, gliding your lips and flattening your tongue until your nose presses to the wispy patch of coarse hair at his base. 

“Fuck— fuck.” Eddie groans through a strangled breath. 

His hand leaves your ribs and you whimper at the loss, only to be reunited with the physical contact as he takes hold of your head with both of his hands, pulling you up. You whine, chest collapsing with defeat. You pout as soon as his cock leaves your mouth. Looking up at him, he looks worked up and frayed — all a shivered mess — but eyes sincerely apologetic as he catches your disappointment. 

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.” He pants heavily, catching his breath while you catch your own. Your pout lessens, and instead, your pride sets in. You did that to him. 

Wiping your gathered tears, you place a tentative hand on his length, watching him for any protests. His head knocks back into the hard wall, but he never loses sight of you, now looking down the angular slope of his nose, watching with amorous, lusting eyes. 

You dip down, reapproach, but this time you give into your own desire, indulging yourself.

Lifting his cock, you nose down his length. His eyes turn wide, but still, no protests.

“Can I put your balls in my mouth?” You ask, doing just as he told you to do, embellishing your simple sentence with pleading, fluttery lashes and persuasive, pinched together brows. 

His lips press into a purse as he swallows, and then they part with approval. “Yes,” he says. You watch as his tongue swipes along his plump bottom lip, and you can’t help but smile up at him. 

Appreciation sits on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t say it, you show it. Bowing your face low, you lick up the centre of his sack, flattening your slow moving tongue with an oath of sincerity — this makes you burn. For a moment, you believe that you’d be content if this was for you and you only, but then you meet his gaze, and you see the way he burns too.

His eyes devour you — your hand wrapped around his cock, thumb barely touching index, your chin settled deep between his thighs. You burn identically and it makes the swirl of butterflies in your stomach rise high, beating heavily in your chest. You get lost for a moment, but a thumb on your cheek, sweetly swiping softly against your skin, brings you right back.

“Pretty girl,” he hums. 

You tilt your head, nuzzling into his grip, humming a tender thank you. His thumb swipes again, just under your eye before settling behind your ear, sitting there with no intention but to be tethered to you.

It’s sweet, and you return the gesture, pressing two kisses, one to each side. You shift your focus, returning back to the moment.

Head still partially in the clouds, you do something daring without thinking, and you suck one of his balls into your mouth. Eddie lunges forward, bending at the waist, nearly folding in half as his stomach tenses harshly. He whimpers, and you pull back immediately.

“Sorry!” You shift, looking at his contorted expression. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

He quickly relaxes himself, patting your cheek as he settles, unclenching his thighs that had tightened at your sides.

“No — no.” He shakes his head, catching his breath “Do it again.” He gently guides you back down. “I was just distracted, caught me off guard,” he explains.

Distracted like you were. You understand, and you let him guide your face back down. 

This time you’re careful. With his eyes on you, you start again, licking, feeling the silky skin with your tongue as you gauge his reaction, peering up at him through your lashes. He nods, and you carefully take him into your mouth, letting your tongue roll cautiously along the velvet skin. 

You’re careful not to do too much, but you grow more confident when you see the way his mouth falls open with his own appreciation. 

“Fuck,” he exhales. “Just like that. Good girl,” he praises, groaning as you suckle delicately. His cock jumps in your loose fist, reminding you just how long it's been since you’ve paid it any attention. Tightening your grip, you run your fist up, then down languidly, multitasking in a way that has Eddie gaping, jaw slack, mouth parted wide, eyes owlish and filled to the brim with heated astonishment. 

With your mouth, you switch to his other side, doing the same, rolling your tongue exploringly, seeing what has his stomach tensing and noises pulling from his lungs. 

As you let your thumb run over his leaking head, he lets out a throaty groan. His thighs tense around you once more, but instead of backing away, you lean into it, embracing the new-found way to make him squirm. 

His breathing quickly becomes rapid as you take more of him into your mouth, sucking more confidently, and pulling away every now and again to press deserved kisses. Your fist moves quicker, focusing on the tip — purposeful, as you remember what he taught you. 

You suck, and glide your hand in smooth strokes, over and over, showing him just how much you like him. If he didn’t believe you before, he has to now. 

With a strong, devoted rhythm built, the skin against your tongue eventually begins to pull taut. He throbs in your hand. You know before he says anything, even before his hand can flex its grip on your cheek. You pull away, letting him fall from your mouth with a quiet pop. He lets out a worn sigh of relief as you sever the threads of spit from your mouth to his balls and shift, moving back to his wired-up cock, twitching at just the sensation of your breath on his over-flushed tip.

Rearranging yourself, you sink your fist, moving it low to his base, and then you adjust, moving your hand to cradle his balls in your palm. His stomach flexes and he lets out a pitiful whimper — he's so close, even while you're barely touching him.

“Please,” he rasps through a strained breath. 

You have nothing but appreciation for the man in front of you, reduced to pleading. You want nothing more than to satisfy him.

Gentle, a thing of the past. You take his cock in your mouth deeply. Swallowing his thickness down, taking him as far as he fits, pressing him to the very back of your throat. Your eyes water, and you breathe heavily through your nose, never once forgetting to massage him in your hand.

His chest heaves, and his fingers weave their way into the hairs at the base of your neck, tugging — communicating. His helpless moans draw out, getting longer and deeper, drawing out each and every flutter in your belly, adding to your fire. 

You can’t believe you’ve been sitting around, tutoring him, teaching him math when you could have been doing this. This is much better — much, much more fulfilling. 

You rise and fall, bobbing quickly, and he encourages you, helping you find the pace that brings him to his edge. He swells in your mouth, and draws upwards in your hand. You hum, encouraging him to let go.

“I’m gonna —” he tries to speak, but a rogue whine cuts him off. He sucks in a sharp breath — “I’m cumming, I’m —” Panic invades his voice as his grip in your hair turns harsh, pulling, stinging your scalp. You hum again, and then you feel the spill. 

The warmth of his cum invades the back of your throat, loading your senses with the distinctly musky taste and a bitter-flavoured swell of sweetness in your chest. Pleased, you swallow it down, and ask for more with the purse of your lips on his overworked tip. His hips buck up into you as you happily swallow everything you can, lapping it up with your appeasing tongue. 

His body relaxes until you don’t stop. Then he’s flexing again, sucking in harsh, gasp-like breaths, using his hands in your hair to guide you away from his over-sensitive cock. 

Both his palms cup your cheeks and you rise, straightening out your spine, walking your knees up the mattress to be closer to him. His hand falls to your knee, encouraging a bend, welcoming you back into his lap. You happily take a careful seat on his thighs. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Eddie gushes unapologetically. 

His body slouches into the mattress, but he continues to beakon you forward. You follow his weak, weary pull and he guides you to his lips, attaching his mouth to yours in a lazy kiss. His beholden tongue greets yours, unaffected by the lingering flavour of his seed that coats your lips and mixes with your spit. He devours it gratefully. 

“That was —” he starts, pulling away just to peck your lips again — “So, so— I don’t even have words.” His hand slides loosely across the expanse of your bare waist as he presses a frenzy of chaste kisses to your lips, making you giggle.

“I did good? I thought I hurt you for a minute.”

“No— shit, you did so good, baby.” Eddie hums, fondly pressing his cheek to yours as he hugs you closer.

You feel his praises blaze at something inside of you, thrumming through your bloodstream, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t highlight your own neediness, the one left abandoned between your thighs. 

Despite the restlessness that grows in your twitching hips, you try to relax, focusing on the sentimental feeling of the rise and fall of his chest, letting your body slink into his, fitting seamlessly against him until his breathing returns to a steady rate. You patiently wait for him to make the next move — especially after him letting you lead most of this evening. 

Just as you’ve let your eyes flutter shut, resting them for a peaceful moment, a kiss to your shoulder has your excitement kicking up in your lower belly, waking up those warm, winged creatures once again. He presses another kiss, and then another, following the slope of your shoulder. Down the curve, to your collarbone, high on your chest, kiss after kiss until his lips meet the plumpness of your breast that spills over the cups of your bra.

The swell of your breast, across, to the centre, his lips find your sternum, and you keen into it, unafraid of coming off as desperate. 

It’s barely anything, just innocent pecks, but it has you impatient, tilting your head back, curving your body to offer up more skin to him. He hums a warm tone, affectionately following the path of your sternum, nosing his way down your cleavage, sighing a deep, warm breath against your skin, adding a few extra heated degrees to your body temperature — you thank him with a breathy moan.

His hands move to your sides, tickling along your flesh, leaving goosebumped skin in their path as he traces along the band of your bra, fingertips gliding until they meet the clasp.

“Please,” you whisper, biting your lip as he finger paints small swirls along your spine. You push yourself closer, needing more.

And he gives you more. The band tightens around your ribs as he finds the edge, and you hold your breath.

One clip comes undone easily, granting you a hint of relief. Two follows, leaving just the third hook stuck standing between you and the promise of pleasure.

Then he stops — worse actually — he doesn’t just stop, he completely abandons the clasp on your bra as his head pops up, nearly clipping the edge of your jaw. He pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head to his shoulder.

It surprises you, making your heart pound for an entirely different reason.

“What—” you begin, but his heedful palm spreads across the plain of your upper back, halting your question, making you pause. Unsure and curious, you turn your face, pushing against his grip on you, trying to see what’s wrong.

His face is contorted into a flat, focused look as his eyes fixate on the closed door of his room. You’re totally confused by what has pulled his attention, but then you hear a clatter from the living room of his trailer. You turn to look at Eddie. 

His eyes pinch shut with disappointment. “No,” he groans, dropping his head to your shoulder in defeat. 

“Is that —”

“My fucking uncle,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Oh,” you say quietly, trying to fight the unresolved neediness of your body from turning you into a slouching ball of disappointment.

“He's not supposed to be home yet,” he groans, and it comes out huffed, like he's annoyed, but you know it's not directed at you. Part of you is relieved to hear that upset edge in his voice, because you know how easy it would be for most boys to shrug it off when they already got what they needed.

His palm swipes across your back, rubbing it in a soothing way before he pulls away, finding your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. 

You shrug, it's not like this is his fault. “It’s okay,” you promise. 

“It’s not.”

You smile. “It is,” you say, delighted by his sincerity. “This just means we’ll have to pick up where we left off another day.”

“But you didn’t get to cum.”

True but — “I still had fun.”

He dips his face, chin bowing downward, bitten lips jetting out with his generous empathy. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and you giggle at his niceness. He might be more upset than you are, and you love it.

“Eddie, you know me,” you grin. “You said I did a good job, and there’s nothing better than the satisfaction of a job well done,” you beam, and you’re very pleased when you get a good chuckle from Eddie.

“Next time?” He proposes with a raised brow.

“Next time,” you agree.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

merci buckets hope you liked if you did make sure to hit! that subscribe button and leave a like down below (aka comment and reblog <33333)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[sixosix]

wanderer can fly; you cannot. he makes it his problem.

“What? Giving up already?”

“Shut—” heaving, you barely have the energy to flip him off, “shut the fuck up. Fuck off.”

Wanderer chuckles, all low and mean, as if his entire purpose in life is to ridicule you. He continues ascending overhead, moving and looking like an angel, but the words that come out of his mouth are far from angelic. “Careful, now. I know you overestimate yourself, but I won’t save you if you continue to scale a mountain with one hand.”

“Stop agitating me on purpose then!” You nearly slip from the intensity of your yell, but thankfully, it isn’t your time yet.

“How can I? You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Grumbling, you focus back on the mountain. Cute when mad. He must think he’s goddamn adorable, then.

You’re starting to lose sight of dents or protruding surfaces to get a hold of, and the mountain is getting steeper. You curse under your breath. If only you had Geo or Dendro—that’d help a lot much more. Maybe even Anemo, but that would be admitting defeat to the man who’s currently watching you intently.

Wanderer scoffs when your breath hitches, the surface you’re holding onto crumbling. He descends until you’re eye level. “Idiot, I told you that it’d be safer if we didn’t climb this all the way.”

“I know my limit.” Maybe. You may or may not have gotten a little over-competitive and jumped a few times, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

“Not more than I do,” he says.

“Don’t say it like that, weirdo.” You appraise the mountain overhead and, with a sunken stomach, realize that he’s right. There’s still a long way to go, and it’s a long fall back.

“Damn,” you say. You turn to Wanderer and blink up at him with wide eyes, hoping he would take the hint without having to say it outright.

Wanderer sighs, holding out his arms. “Jump.”

“Are you serious?”

“I won’t let you fall—of course I’m fucking serious.”

You grit your teeth, wondering if it’s easier to humiliate yourself and jump into his arms or to let gravity do its work.

“Hey,” Wanderer says, gliding closer and hovering an arm behind your waist. “No stupid ideas. Just jump and hold onto me.”

It’s always unsettling when Wanderer is not acting all bratty, like you’re not quite sure if you should goad him back to being mean or watch him bristle when you point it out. It’s been happening too often recently. That must be saying something about him if his soft moments are scarier than his jabs.

Wordlessly, you reach out for his shoulder with one hand and hold back a yelp when the lack of balance causes you to slip. You hold on tight around his neck, eyes wide and heart jittery. Wanderer secures his arms, moving in one swift motion. Before you even know it, he has one arm on your back and the other under your knees.

“How convenient it must be to have a ride as your companion,” Wanderer mutters in amusement at your relieved face.

“Yeah. That’s why I keep you around,” you say as he glides upward, barely straining from your weight. He looks as unaffected as ever.

He looks as infuriatingly and devastatingly beautiful as ever.

“Ha,” his smile is all sharp, “and not because you have a little crush on me?”

“You follow me around because you do. Don’t get it twisted.”

He snorts, tipping on something a little more genuine. You wisely decide to stop ogling at his face and enjoy the view of the sky instead. The blue of his clothes and the shade of his eyes are much prettier, but you’d rather lose that than start squirming in his arms. Not when he’s carrying you bridal style and all.

Finally, he descends, hardly disturbing the grass with his grace. He sets you down, arms crossed, as you pat yourself off from dirt and stuff.

“Well?”

You eye him warily. “What do you want?”

“Some semblance of manners will do,” he says, then leans close as if he’s baring his face for you. He’s been less and less subtle recently, too.

Nonetheless, you find yourself smiling. The things he’d do just to get a kiss—it nearly makes you laugh out loud. But then he’d start getting all irritated like a cat, and you much prefer when he’s sweet like this. Sweet in his very Wanderer way, you mean.

You kiss him on the cheek. He puffs up like some proud peacock. He calls you adorable all the time, but he’s the one who’s acting like this. It’s no wonder you keep him around.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 7: Firsts

Kyle bought you lunch before your set time. To make sure you ate, he said. He still asked about five times if you felt like you ate enough or needed water even after sitting across from you while you downed a to-go container of pad se ew and your fourth ounce bottle.

You just laugh and point to a piece on your knee. “Babes I got this with nothing but a trenta iced coffee and two hours of sleep in my system. I’m fine, I promise.”

John made a baffled noise at that. Kyle looked like he was going to throw up. That look remained as he went through the process of setting up in John’s studio room. Kyle is meticulous about it. Each step done with care. You feel a bit silly sitting around and twiddling your thumbs.

“Just breathe. It’s fine.” John murmurs in a low rumble that somehow has you relaxing more than the indented party.

“It’s almost more scary doing someone I know.” Kyle huffs.

You laugh. “Can’t be worse than the blown out piece of shit on my left arm. C’mon, I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve got this.”

John nods, sitting on the other side of you.

“Besides, even if it sucks I’ll still be honored to be your first real apprentice tattoo.” You pipe up.

Kyle chuckles, low and unsure. Part of you wants to give him an out, to say he doesn’t have to, but you can see the set of his jaw even as his eyes flick between his supplies and the stencil in his hand nervously. He’s determined as much as he is scared. There’s no getting him out of that headspace until he’s done.

You chose something easy. One of Kyle’s more dainty, simple flash designs for the back of your thigh, just below the curve of your ass. A little bow with minimal shading. Something he’s practiced a thousand times and an easy enough starting point. Plus, you already mentioned having him do a matching one on the other side when he’s ready for it. Easy practice.

“C’mon, at least get the stencil on before you have a panic attack.” You try to keep your voice light, turning your back to him.

Kyle sighs. You hear his stool roll forward as he scoots in close to place it. John shuffles around to stand over him. A nasty part of your brain complains about exposing your cellulite to these two fit men but you push that deep down into nothing. A second, more embarrassing part wonders if you should have chose a more appropriate spot… that maybe you shouldn’t be standing in front of your boss and coworker in teeny-tiny biker shorts that barely cover you. You shove that down right next to the other mean thoughts.

You pointedly ignore the heat that shoots up your spine as Kyle’s hands feel out the shape of your thigh to get it centered - keeping your eyes forward as he slowly presses the paper against you. You could swear a thumb traces the curve of your cheek as he smoothes it but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

“Good job, kid.” John claps a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as soon as the paper is pulled away. You turn around in the mirror to check it, expecting to probably have to move it, but from what you can tell it really is perfect.

“Damn, dude, on your first try!” You grin, clapping happily.

Kyle nods stiffly, but you see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. You unceremoniously clamber onto the table, moving around so your back doesn’t hurt from laying flat for the next few hours with your arms folded under your head.

“Hey.” You whisper while John steps away to grab something. “Get through this without freaking out and I’ll give you a reward.”

“A reward?” He tilts his head, smile turning from an nervous curl of his lip to a boyish grin.

You jokingly bat your lashes. “I’ll give you a kiss.”

Kyle chuckles. “With tongue?”

You gawk, face hot. “Mr. Garrick! Where’d my knight in shining armor go?”

“Just tryin’ t’ figure out exactly what I’m workin’ toward.”

You hum, pretending to mull it over. “We’ll see. Depends on how well you do.”

Kyle levels a look at you, something heated as his lip catches between his teeth. It’s only there for a moment, gone as soon as he turns to his tools. Replaced by a laser focus.

“Alright.” John settles back into his seat on your other side. “Let’s do one line and then see how we all feel.”

Kyle nods. You shuffle a little to make you’re you’re as comfortable as possible for the next however long. You know it’s going to be a while even if it isn’t a simple design. He’s new and precise with means slow.

The familiar whirr of the gun starts up. You shut your eyes, waiting, hoping that you aren’t projecting any more tension into the room than Kyle is. The needle stings when it finally touches you, but not as badly as you braced for. His touch is light.

He pulls the gun away and let’s put a giant sigh. “How y’feel, luv?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m all good. You?” You tilt your chin a bit to meet his eye.

“Better now that it’s started.”

“Good.” John nods, chest bumping your leg as he leans forward to look. “Looks good. Keep on.”

The room is nearly silent as he works. You turned down the music before coming back so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed - at least that was your reasoning. You’d get overwhelmed. Kyle is more levelheaded than you are, though.

“Thassit.” John smiles - or at least that’s how it sounds in his voice. “Her skin takes ink so well, yeah?”

Fuck, that totally should not do it for you. Gravelly voiced British bastard. You keep your eyes locked onto the flash on the far wall as you attempt to cool down.

Kyle just hums, seemingly unable to talk as he concentrates. He probably is with how dialed in he looks. You take a break before he gets to shading, stretching and getting some water. It takes a while, but not as long as you assumed. You start to get that ache in your skin partway through the shading - that feeling when your nerves are so tired from firing off pain receptors they just all sort of start burning dully.

However long later Kyle pulls away. “I… think it’s done?”

“You think?” John challenges.

Kyle sighs before speaking with more finality. “It’s done.”

There’s a few beats where John assess and you hold your breath. He points to a couple spots where Kyle’s hand slipped a bit or he applied too much pressure, but when you check it out in the mirror yourself you don’t see that all. Perfectionists.

You can’t help but squeal and jump, clapping happily and barely standing still while Kyle puts the saniderm on. You’re just to happy! Not only did Kyle get his first tattoo done but now you have brand new (free) cute ink to show off. Kyle looks tired, though, so you try not over overwhelm him while he cleans up. Concentrating like that with anxiety must have really taken it out of him.

You sort of forget about your promise of a reward for the next week. Too busy focusing on taking care of your new tattoo. The only downside to the placement is sitting in your office chair itches - especially once you take the saniderm off. You’ve mostly taken to standing while working and wearing shorts and skirts to let it breathe. It’s worth it, though. You’ll have to ask Kyle how soon he wants to do the other one. Without being pushy, of course.

You quietly hum to yourself as you get the cash drawers ready to lock away in the backroom safe. Triple checking the bags and making sure tips are divided correctly, etc.

“Hey, lovie.” Kyle saddles up behind you suddenly, hands on your hips.

You jump. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. A hand slips down your hip, palm tracing the hem of your tennis skirt to lightly rest over the little bow. “How’s she healin’?”

“It’s, uh, it-“ You stutter, eyes wide and skin hot. If it were Johnny, you’d laugh and swat him away - maybe let his hand wander to your ass first - but Kyle doesn’t do this. Not that you don’t like it - the problem lies in that you’re liking it too much. If the patter of your heart is anything to go by. “It’s good. Not itching yet or anything.”

Kyle hums. “Good.”

“Th-that all?”

“Think you forgot somethin’.” He turns you around, hands firmly planted on the softness of your waist. When you just give him a bewildered look he continues. “I was promised a reward, I think.”

“O-oh?” Your face burns, eyes wide. Is he serious? Part of you wants to say no - to push him away. You’re coworkers, after all. Until your eyes meet his, so big and warm and his lips forming a perfect pout. “John….?”

Kyle chuckles ans crosses his chest. “John won’t care. Cross my heart.”

He gives you a moment to mull it over. You don’t think he’s making fun of or bating you - Kyle wouldn’t do that. There’s no way he’s interested either. That’s one delusion you can firmly plant in the ’purely imaginary’ category.

Whatever. What do you have to lose from a little back room make out?

Your lips meets his. Fuck, they’re soft. He steals your breath - greedy and gentile. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, much less kissed well. One of the hands on your waist moves to your low back as Kyle leans into you. Your hands grapple onto his shoulders to steady you. He takes advantage of your gasp at being tilted back to swipe is tongue between your lips.

You mould together, breaths heavy and tongues dancing. A needy, pathetic little part of you wishes the hand that drifted from your waist to your hip would hook under your thigh. That Kyle would tilt you all the way back onto the desk and throw your leg over his shoulder, eagerly pushing up your skirt-

An ‘I love you’ dances on the tip of your tongue and you reel back harshly, hand flat on his chest to separate you.

“Alright?” He murmurs, eyes half lidded and dark.

You swallow roughly and nod, breathing hard. “I, uh, I need to finish the safe.”

Something passes across his face briefly as your eyes flick between his. Whatever it was, it’s replaced by his usual easy smile as he returns to standing at his full height, the hands on your waist steady you before disappearing. Your stomach drops as they go.

“See you tomorrow.” Kyle murmurs, pressing one last little peck on your cheek before striding away, leaving you alone in the back room with a hot face and whirlwind thoughts.

Fuck.

A/N: brought to you by the time a tattoo artist told me my skin takes ink well in the most haunting bedroom voice I’ve ever heard😵‍💫 killed me right then and there

[tokyothirstygang]

TW: EXPLICIT/SMUTTY CONTENT BELOW Okay okay but imagine being shy in bed with Ran and he’s doing everything he can to bring out the freak in you 🥵

You’re no stranger to taking Ran's cock.

You’ve hooked up with him countless times yet something about him always made you shy.

Tonight, he has you in one of his favorite positions: You’re lying on the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide with your knees to your chest while he stands in front of the you pounding down into you.

The feeling of him deep inside you was always so good you shouldn’t have been able to keep quiet. For some reason, every time you wanted to scream and call his name that embarrassed feeling would creep in and silence you.

You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks and the irresistible urge to cover your face with a pillow. You mostly kept your moans to yourself, and he only managed to get a bold reaction out of you right before your orgasms hit.

Ran let you get away with it for a little while. He thought it was hot that he could make you so intimidated. Now, he was starting to get impatient. This time when you cover yourself with the pillow, he protests.

“Come on, baby. You know me. Let me see that pretty face.”

He slows the pace, giving you a chance to comply. When you don’t, he gives you a sly smirk though you can’t see it.

“Oh, Is that how you wanna be?” He asks, the intensity in his tone making you shiver.

He keeps thrusting himself into you at a slow, steady pace making sure you feel every inch of him. Stealthily, he leans down to your level. He quickly uncurls your fingers from the pillow and tosses it onto the floor far out of your reach.

“Now you’ve got nothing to hide behind.”

You’re surprised by the sudden action but before you can react, he uses his left hand to take both your wrists and slide them up over your head.

As he centers his face inches from yours, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. He uses his right hand to gently cup your chin to keep you from turning away.

“I think you’ve been holding out on me.” He taunts, smiling at the way you’re trying to bravely hold his gaze. “I tried to let it go but…” he gives you two hard thrusts that make you cry out. “I think you can do more for me.”

You can feel your face blazing more than usual as he continues.

“If we’re gonna keep fucking like this, I need to show you how I want my good girl to act.”

You agree, and his lilac irises light up.

“Okay, let’s try something.” He releases your hands and flips you on to your hands and knees. He pulls you up just enough so that your back is against his chest then he whispers in your ear.

“See, when I fuck you like this-“ he slips back inside you and starts giving you deep strokes. “I need you to let me hear how good that feels for you.”

He reaches down between your legs to play with your clit and grins to himself when he feels your hips buck at the sensation.

“Just let me hear you, baby. I know you like it…fuck, your pussy is dripping down my cock.”

The sound of his voice whispering in your ear matched with the feeling of him deep inside you has your toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“I-It feels…feels so good.” Your voice is barely audible.

“Louder, princess. I know you can do it.”

For once you push your own insecurity aside and let yourself fully enjoy the moment. You put all your focus into how amazing he’s making you feel, and give him what he wants.

“Ran… fuck! …You feel so good!” This time your voice comes out at full volume and by the way his cock twitches inside you, you know he’s loving it.

He slaps your ass in gratitude and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks.

“That’s it, keep talking like that. What do you want me to do to you, hmm? How do you want it?”

“Harder! Please…I need you to fuck me harder,”

He wastes no time picking up the pace.

“Does that feel good?” When you nod your head yes he gives you another order. “Then say ‘yes, daddy’.”

You can’t see him but you just know he’s smirking to himself. He must be loving what he’s doing to you.

You expect yourself to be embarrassed when “yes, daddy” leaves your lips but you aren’t.

As soon as he hears it, a low growl escapes him. He was bringing out the freak in you, and you were apparently doing the same to him.

You continue on like that for awhile longer, letting him push and pull you into whatever position he wants all while giving him the dirty talk he’s been dying to hear.

When you’re getting close to your next orgasm, he can feel it.

“You about to cum for me?” You nod and he gives you one last request.

“Say my name for me then. Say my name when you’re cumming on my cock like this.”

He has you so lost in your lust you can barely speak but as your orgasm hits you manage to call out his name over and over until you’re done.

“Fuck, get down here.”

He pulls you off the bed and down on to your knees on the floor. You barely have time to get yourself into position before he’s moaning loudly, stroking himself and cumming all over your tits.

You watch him as his head tilts back and a tremble runs through his body. It’s definitely the hardest he’s ever cum with you and now you were kicking yourself for ever holding back with him.

“Damn…” he laughs as he finally snaps back to reality. When you lock eyes with him, you see something in them that’s never been there before.

“I might have to keep you.”

———

I’m losing my mind over this and I hope you are too

[irisintheafterglow]

itoshi rin doesn't get injuries. ever.

he's downright religious about stretching, warming up properly, and being aware of how his body is holding up under the intense conditions of a match. he keeps a strict diet, an even stricter sleeping schedule, and pops enough vitamins and supplements to make his immune system work at 200%. but, when stupidly lukewarm isagi misplaces his stupidly lukewarm foot, rin ends up rolling his ankle harder than a bowling ball slammed down a lane. he doesn't react immediately to the lightning bolt of pain that shoots up his calf, only sending isagi a withering glare and continuing to rush the opposition's net.

like the rest of his team, you don't notice something is wrong until the end of the scrimmage, when rin collapses and curls his upper body around his ankle. his hands clutch the bottom of his leg and he shuts his eyes tight to hold in the frustrated groan he wants to release. the other players approach him and he snarls like a circus tiger, barking at them to leave him be. the same tune is played for the medical team, having no choice but to retreat after he insists he just needs a second to rest. with a deep inhale to prepare, you steel your nerves and walk over to where he sits.

"i said go," he seethes, his forehead resting against his propped knee. his eyes are shut, but he can feel someone standing there, watching him with a pitying look in their eyes. stupid. he gets hurt and suddenly it's poor, poor rin and his poor, poor ankle. it's weakness that he needs to stomp out, weakness that--

"you need to ice that." his eyes open slowly and you catch his walls recede ever so slightly. you always had a no-nonsense kind of relationship with rin, especially as a health analyst-in-training who was the only brave soul that spoke to him among your cohort. there was an unspoken level of respect that you had for him that you assumed he reciprocated, seeing as he always had patience for your long spiels outlining everything to do with his physical wellbeing. he appreciated that you never asked about his mental wellbeing, but sometimes your gut told you that maybe you should.

"i'm fine," he says through gritted teeth and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his melodrama. you bite back your initial retort and instead settle on the turf next to him, your legs facing the opposite way so that you're not making direct eye contact. he watches you from the outskirts of his vision, as do the rest of the remaining team on the field, but doesn't deny your company. you let him take a few more breaths before asking your next question.

"what hurts?" any other trainee in your group would immediately be subject to scathing insults about their personality and emotional aptitude. you'd seen it, how he snapped at the trainees that weren't you.

"calf. ankle. inside of my foot," he mumbles, shame evident in his voice. he didn't like appearing weak; he already felt weak living in the shadow of sae. it was something he was constantly fighting against, carrying the sack of weight on his shoulder every game. he waits for you to scoff, to tell him to get over it, but you don't. instead, you hum and refrain from looking at him directly. in a way, it's the indirect conversation that he appreciates the most.

"i'm gonna get you a tennis ball for your ankle. where's your water?"

"back left by the bench." you nod and retrieve both items, returning to him in no time at all. you don't even stop to converse with the other concerned members of the management team, making a beeline back to him like you had no other place to be. "you should go," he says before you sit down again.

you wait for him to elaborate. he doesn't.

"do you want me to?"

he hesitates.

"...no."

"then i'll stay." you sit closer this time, still facing the other direction, but close enough that your arms could brush if he leaned close enough. rin won't admit that he likes the proximity. "i don't need to tell you how to use a tennis ball," you comment and his silence expresses his gratitude. he reaches wordlessly for the ball but you hold it just out of reach. "but, i am gonna force you to drink water before you do anything else."

"i'm not thirsty."

"i don't care," you reply. "you won't get better if you're not hydrated." part of him hates that you're right, that you're sitting here pitying him. but, he takes the bottle from your hand anyway and downs a few sips that turn into large gulps. he didn't realize how parched he'd become. "there. what else can i do?"

"stop pitying me," he scowls without thinking. as much as you like to think he's different when he's with you, there's still times like these when the rage slips out and he snaps. you haven't known him long enough to weather his storms, but you're determined to wait it out and you know he notices. he's too smart not to notice the way your shoulders sag, the way you conveniently look anywhere but in his direction, the way you're fighting every instinct to abandon him to protect yourself. "it's," he forces out, surprising you both, "it's not-i'm not your responsibility. i don't need you to take care of me."

"but do you want me to?"

he hesitates again and turns to look at you completely, detecting no sense of pity or malice or arrogance in your expression. you were there to help him, and you wanted him to trust you. what a foreign feeling.

"yes."

so you continue to sit there with him in silence, running your fingers absentmindedly over the turf as he gently massages his ankle with the tennis ball. you don't question when his shoulder brushes yours for a second, then returns to completely lean against you. when he decides it's time to wash up, he takes your hand and lets you help him off the field, his arm draped around your upper back as you act as his crutch. you later tell him after he's showered that you didn't help him because you pitied him, but because you knew he would be too stubborn to ask for help.

"how are you so sure?"

"because you told me to leave, remember? and who would have helped you if i left? who would you allow to help you?" you don't wait for him to answer and bid him a polite goodbye, leaving his face warm and completely at a loss for words.

he decides that it's not so bad if he gets injured, as long as you're the one sitting on the turf with him after the game.

[thebearer]

arguing with carmen and its big enough where you leave for the night but what’s even scarier to him is that you also took teddy

he'd have an actual psychotic break, nervous breakdown.

especially bc i'm picturing him reverting back to his old ways. it's rare, but he slips into a full carmy (in the lock in) level meltdown. gets unbalanced and spirals further and further, and you just happen to be who he takes it out on.

screaming at you like a maniac over something stupid- you didn't wash his spare whites (he didn't tell you they needed to be washed). it's his fault, he knows it deep down, still he's losing his shit because it's the final straw.

"you stay at home all day! all fucking day and you can't do one thing!" carmen's red faced, screaming.

you're shocked, scared, on the brink of sobbing yourself. teddy's woke up from her nap, his screaming startled her. the newborn wailing from her nursery.

"carmen, you didn't tell me-"

"-i shouldn't have to!" carmen roars. "you're home all day-"

"-i'm on maternity leave. i just had a baby-"

"-oh, so. you can't do one fuckin' thing now? i have to do it all here too?" carmen is spiraling, pacing, running a hand down his face. "i get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then i come home so i can go back and work my ass off some more, and you can't help me out?"

his words sting, shock you with the weight of them. swallowing back tears, you turn, climbing the stairs to the bedroom.

carmen is scoffing, hands shaking with rage and annoyance and just overwhelmed. your ignoring him stings. makes him spiral even more. "don't go do it now! it's too late!" carmen scoffs. "i've got a fuckin' critic coming in two hours, and i'll wear stained whites. probably get a shitty review about our food being gross an-and the chef being just as bad!"

you texted pete through your tears, telling him that you were coming to stay there for a while. shoving clothes for the night in your small bag quickly, hands shaking when you zipped it up, your wedding ring flashing at you. you stared at it, a wave of tears coming over you, screwing the ring off your finger and setting it on carmen's night stand next to a photo of you two on your honeymoon.

you packed teddy and anchovy's things quickly, knowing you'd come back tomorrow to get what else you needed. just the essentials, to get through the night. anchovy in his carrier, and teddy in her's, you ignored carmen's pacing, his deep breaths and clenched eyes, walking straight to the garage.

carmen looked up at the sound of the door, standing quickly. a damning rush of horror, of realization washed over him, pulled him right out of his clouded tantrum.

"w-what- what are you- hey, what-" carmen runs towards the car door, where you're putting teddy's car seat into place, shushing the wailing girl gently.

"-don't fucking touch me." you sneer, teeth bared in primal rage, pure protectiveness.

"baby, wait, wait, ju-just hold on. where're you- hey, don't- where're you goin'?" carmen's frantic, eyes wide, stomach churning.

you shut the car door, moving past him without looking to get to the driver's side. "no, no, no, no, no. don't-baby please, don't. i-i-i'm sorry. i'm sorry!" carmen's stuttering in fear, hands shaking trying to hold the door open, keep you from shutting it.

"let go." you growl, yanking the door. "you're not going to talk to me like that, carmen. i don't care if you're stressed, i don't care. you're not going to come home and talk to me like that because you fucked up. not when i've been at home all day taking care of our- my child."

carmen feels dizzy, mouth filling with spit, sure he's about to throw up.

you slam the door, eyes watery and red and angry, glaring at him before pulling out of the driveway.

carmen's left alone in the garage, knees weak, hands shaking. his ears are ringing, head spinning, sure that he's hallucinating- that this has to be a sick sick dream. floods of realization icy through his veins.

the house is eerily quiet, so still. no teddy, no anchovy, no you.

he isn't sure how long he sits in the garage, the sun sinking in the horizon, but he stays motionless and still. richie shows up eventually, frantic and wide eyed.

"cousin! what the fuck? dinner service started a fuckin' hour ago, and we-" he stops, slowing his stride when he gets closer. carmen's vacant gaze, trembling hands.

"hey, carm, what's goin' on? you-you alright?" richie's voice dropped low and slow, like he used to with mikey. "carmen. hey, what's-"

"-she left." carmen whispered, his eyes wide in horror. "she-she left and she took t-teddy." carmen breaks, a sob choking out of his throat.

"why? why did she-" richie stops, looking at carmen. "carmen, what did you do?"

carmen sobs- no, wails. broken and terrified and horrified. full chest sobs that are more like screams. the realization of what he had done, what he had said, feeling the full weight of the consequences of his actions for the first time.

[loveanddeepdick]

I live your headcanons, are you willing to make virgin Choso? Please, I’m on my knees 😔

virgin!choso who’s never been in a relationship before you, with no experience in anything but holding hands with little brother yuji probably. however, every time he sees you in something slightly revealing, or you say his name in a slightly whiny tone, or do anything, he has to excuse himself to the bathroom to jack off.

virgin!choso who stays as respectful as he can. he stands behind you on escalators, has an arm wrapped around you in cramped elevators, and on particularly windy days, he keeps his hand on your lower back, just so he can dip his hand down to keep your skirt down when the wind picks up. respectful, yes, but deep down he knows he’s selfish. of course he wants to protect you from lurking eyes! just so he can look at you the same way later.

virgin!choso who loves making out with you. after you teach him, he has his hands on your hips as he grinds up on your clothed pussy almost every day. he thinks you’re so cute, how your little tongue doesn’t stand a chance when he sloppily shoves his down your throat. he loves running his tongue along your canines, how they lightly prick him.

“stop, cho! you’re so weird,” you giggle as you lightly push him away.

he only wipes his mouth, yearning for more as he leans in again.

virgin!choso who accidentally starts fucking you when you two were watching a movie together on his couch. your cute little panties rubbing against his crotch, unknowingly creating a wet patch.you notice this right away, gasping as you felt his cock twitch under you. he humps up against your desperately, trying to chase undiscovered pleasure.

virgin!choso who’s delighted after you give him consent to have his head between your plump thighs, eye level to your clit. your panties are drenched, basically clinging to every curve and outline of your pussy. choso’s already drunk on you, pressing his nose up on your clit as he inhales, running his tongue along the wet patches as he gathers it. he feels nasty for doing something dirty to you. his sweet, caring girlfriend being so defiled by his dirty behavior.

virgin!choso who’s a grower, your eyes widening as he rubs the head of his huge cock up and down your clothed pussy. he’d honestly settle for just this if he could. he peels your panties off, relishing in the way strings of your arousal cling to the soaked panties. shoving them in his pocket, saving them for when you were going to be away for a while (he misses you after 10 minutes of not seeing you).

virgin!choso who fucks you in missionary, with your legs wrapped around his slutty waist as he drills his cock into you. his thrusts are messy, he’s holding back his orgasm in want of pleasuring you first.

“ffuck, cho, right there—yes, right there!”

“here, baby? y-you love it here, don’t-don’t you?”

he pressed on your little clit, making you whine in pleasure as he bullied your cervix.

virgin!choso who tries his best to pull out, but your cute little legs were locking him in!! he had no choice! he cums deep inside you, filling every crevice of your pussy with his cum. he collapses on top of you, a whiny, sensitive mess. it’s only when he feels you slightly squeeze around him a minute later that he’s hard again.

“please, baby? turn around for me?”

[acehazbin1]

‘I quite like the quiet.’

Paring: Emperor Caracalla x maid!reader

Warnings: no use of Y/n, ranting?

Just fluff/comfort maybe idk man 😭

Chapter two

……………

Caracalla smelt like wine, drugs and sex, things that most would think of when they thought of him. His tunic had little stains all down the bottom has the more intoxicated he got the more disoriented he became.

He was wandering around the palace halls, they echoed his footsteps as it was odd to see him by himself. He was constantly surrounded by concubines, senators, the Praetorian or even just his brother. But there he was in a green tunic decorated with golden designs ruined by stains just walking with a look of distain upon his face.

“What troubles you, Cesar?” a maid whispered out, she was young, on her knees and scrubbing a stain out of the floor. Caracalla looked down, the alcohol in his system made him ignore the fact such a low class was talking to him and responded. “My brother has been getting marriage letters sent to me every other day and I haven't got one… It's not fair.”

His hands gripped his tunic making creases. “Oh.” The maid responded she had overheard the senator talking about how marriage would help decrease wars. She leaned up a bit and asked, “Well have you tried to send out one?”

She knew it was a dumb question he wouldn't want to get married; he was probably just jealous of his brother getting all the attention all the time. His gaze fixated on the floor away from her, “I have…. They all rejected my offers.”

The maid gulped noticing it looked to be a sore topic, his hands gripping his tunic had a few bruises and his skin was painted has a few new scrapes that needed to be covered. She knew about his outbursts, what palace staff didn't? They weren't allowed to mention it at all for fear it might get out but she heard of stories of concubines been throwing out for simply looking at him wrong.

“Maybe they were already courting someone?” She added hopefully, his gaze returned to her, and his throat tightened a bit with frustration. “Women have ignored marriage proposals from different kings at a chance to maybe marry my brother.” His voice snapped angrily.

“And what do I get? Denied, ignored or asked to talk to my brother about them.” Her eyes widened at that, that level of disrespect towards an emperor and he wasn't even that bad. He continued on this rant, “Do they just know me as a bloodthirsty tyrant? What have they heard, who whispered lie after lie?” He ripped his hands off his tunic and ran them through his hair in an attempt to calm himself.

Caracalla looked at the maid as if she knew. She wasn't holding a sponge anymore instead on her knees leaning back as her hands were in front of her in case he tried to throw something in furry. “I haven't an idea, my emperor.”

He signed heavily, kept his hands in his hair slowly pulled his hair back as he moved them. “It's okay now, the Praetorians dealt with them accordingly.” He breathed out. Before she could catch up with her mouth, she had already spoken.

“How?”

His lips formed a smile, his hands now on the back of his neck tapped to keep himself from getting overly excited. “They disrespected an Emperor, the punishment fit their crime.” The maid felt like she was going to throw up, they were rude from what he was saying but imagine being killed for not wanting to marry someone?

She felt disgusted, why did he even need to get married anyway? He wasn't the one to care about peace, they already had enough money and he had concubines for any other matter. “Do you even want to get married?” She had to hide her disgust in her voice.

His smile dropped and his hands lowered as he took a step back leaning on his back leg. His face almost looked a bit… sheepish? “Well yes. It can get a little lonely in the palace.” the word palace was slurred, as she looked confused. “You have concubines?”

Caracalla rolled his eyes at that, “Concubines are paired well for their services but that's all they are there for. None of them cares enough to cuddle after or-” Caracalla stopped himself as his mind went over the things they wouldn't do with him.

Something pulled on her heartstrings, it was weird hearing the emperor want something so basic… so human and can't get it. “You want someone to care for you?” She said to fill in the silence. She earned a little nod from Caracalla.

They both went silent, it was night outside so it was just candlelight shining through the hall. No parties were on tonight just silence. Caracalla moved towards the wall a slid down beside her, she watched him do this. “I quite like the quiet.” She whispers to him.

She knew he couldn't agree, quiet would be an extract antonym for him. Yet he smiled gently at her, his eyes scanning her face. “Yes, it can be nice sometimes…” She nodded scanning his face in return as her hand touched off his, he looked down noticing the placement. “I hope you find a wife.” Her voice was caring something he hadn't heard since the death of his mother.

“Thank you.” It was a low whisper, but they sat there in comfortable silence with each other sometimes making comments. As the sun arose the guards found the Emperor sitting at a wall hunched over with his head on a maid's shoulder who's head landed on his. They both smelt like drink but no one dared to disturb the scene.

[81sainz]

11:34PM ★ M. VERSTAPPEN

★ PAIRING: secretboyfriend!max x female!reader

★ GENRE: secret relationship, NSFW

★ WORD COUNT: 880

★ SUMMARY: you’re usually good at keeping your hands off of your secret boyfriend in front of a crowd, that is until a few drinks makes you insatiable.

★ WARNINGS: oh boy…alcohol consumption (but no one is drunk), making out, tongue kissing, dirty talk, oral (m. receiving), cum eating/swallowing, descriptions of spit, bathroom sex, descriptions of max’s dick, and uhhh think that is all!

★ AUTHORS NOTE: just a little something for the girlies here…hope we’re feeling good about this vegas gp weekend! Im nervous like every race weekend. lol. but I do have a new set of lando nails to be patriotic 🏁 btw idk if the ending is abrupt I did nawttt want the scene to keep going lol I said CUT!! but hope you enjoy babes.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Max could hardly catch his breath as he kissed you, his tongue tasting slightly of gin and tonic. “Someone’s going to catch us.”

You and max had been secretly seeing each other; not telling any of your friends in your close knit group. Everything always went according to plan, you both never gave off the vibe that there was something more than just a good friendship.

Until now, at a house party with a large attendance you thought it would be easy to stay away from each other. Both of you promised not to have too many drinks to not slip up and say or do something that they shouldn’t.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself and dragged Max into the nearest bathroom that you could find apart from the crowd.

“Nobody saw me.” You answered abruptly, gasping when his large hand squeezed your bare thigh after propping you up onto the countertop to be level with him. “I needed you…”

Max’s hips jolted forwards when you reached down to feel his bulge in his jeans, taking note that he already had somewhat of an erection.

“Fuck…” Max sighed at the feeling of your touch.

“Can you make sure the door is locked?” You spoke the moment that your fingers landed on his Hermes belt buckle.

“What? Yeah.” Max was clearly in another world as you broke the silence as he turned partially to make sure the door was in fact locked.

Before he could even look back at you, you were already getting to work undoing his belt.

“Finish for me?” You asked; max nodding in agreement to whatever you had asked of him. You quickly hopped off of the bathroom counter and got on your knees in front of him.

“My god…” Max spoke, finishing lowering his pants and underwear for you as you waited for him.

You shushed him. “Don’t be loud.” The music outside was far too loud for anything to be heard, but you didn’t trust anybody to not get curious and put their ear to the door.

Any sign of protest was gone once Max felt your tongue against the tip of his cock; making him suck in a harsh breath.

“Stick out your tongue.” Max suddenly spoke, and you did what he said. He gripped the base of his cock, smacking the tip against your tongue. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, you know that?”

You smirked, replacing his hand with yours as you stroked his length with whatever lubricant the saliva from your tongue offered; spitting on it when it seemed like not enough.

Max usually had good stamina, but this time you hoped you’d break him before anybody realized the two of you might be missing together.

You wrapped your lips around his tip; hollowing your cheeks to suck him in your mouth just the way that he liked.

You felt him hit the back of your throat, but you pushed further until your nose nearly touched the patch of stubble near the base of his cock. Hearing a grunt from Max, you pulled back slightly to fuck your throat with his cock.

“Oh my fucking god.” Max spoke, trying so hard not to moan as he leaned his head back.

You pulled off of him, and he looked back down at you just in time to see a thick string of saliva attached to his cock to your mouth. He whimpered slightly when you stroked his length again, giving proper attention to his tip that was super sensitive by now.

“Fuck, keep doing that…” The way Max’s voice sounded had you wanting to stop everything, pull up your dress and have him rail you into tomorrow on the bathroom counter.

“God, I love your cock.” You spoke finally, after releasing his cockhead from your lips with a lewd pop.

“Yeah? Gonna let me cum in your mouth?” Max was almost taunting you, because he knew you wouldn’t say no.

“Please, please.” You whined before Max quickly leaned down to grab your jaw, making you sit up onto your knees higher. He kissed you sloppily as he was stroking himself with his free hand.

His breathing was getting erratic, and you opened your mouth; sticking out your tongue for him to finish in your mouth as he pleased.

“Fuck.” Max swore under his breath as he tried to be as quiet as possible, all while trying to steady his breathing.

You eventually got up off of the floor with Max’s help before he fixed his clothes.

“Does my makeup look okay?” You looked at yourself in the mirror before looking to Max.

“Well uh not really.” Max laughed before fixing some of your smeared lipgloss.

“No, don’t tell me that!” You looked back into the mirror, not wanting to make it obvious what you were doing. “That’ll be embarrassing if someone points it out.”

Max turned you to face him. “Listen. I’ll find the girls, and tell them I’m taking you home.” His speech was paused by him kissing you quickly, then he was whispering. “And then you sneak out and meet me at my car, okay?”

You tried not to laugh because somehow even Max trying to whisper wasn’t that quiet. “Okay, be quick please.”

[smallestapplin]

Ive been have a Hyperfixcations for the last few days of reader wearing lingerie matching with their favorite bots colors and the bots or cons losing their minds over it

I went with Ratchet, Shockwave, and Soundwave for this

Warnings : oral fem receiving(Ratchet), recording(Soundwave), mild pet play(Shockwave.)

Minors do NOT interact!

-

-

-

Ratchet

Oh you are a sight in deed, sat so prettily on his berth with such a sweet smile on your face, as if you didn’t make the older bot choke on nothing. His optics can’t help but to take in every detail of your body, how those white thigh high socks seem to have trouble staying up your thighs, but those red bows tie it together.

The white mesh around your bust leaves little to the imagination. You chuckle listening to him ex-vent loudly. The red lace trim around your panties taunts him, begging for him to touch you and trace the trim around your body.

“Are you just going to stand there, or did I get all cute for nothing?” Your voice is light and playful, but it snaps him from his stupor.

Ratchet takes a few steps toward a you, his optics looking you up and down like you’re a meal he is trying desperately to savor. He drops to his knees in front of you, getting his helm level with you, as shaky servos reach around you.

“What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you dressed so…”

You can feel your pride swelling knowing you even made a bot like Ratchet forget words.

“I just wanted to surprise my sweet hardworking bot.”

And by the sounds of his modest plating shifting aside, and his thick spike twitching and leaking, you did an amazing job, but with how he grabs you, gently taking your lace panties down and shoving his helm between your thighs, you won’t be leaving anytime soon.

-

-

Soundwave

The second he entered his habsuite he was recording, how could he not when his precious human looks like such a meal? You barely have a moment to greet him before the large con is on you. Your mesh blue top does nothing but put your tits on display for him, the flowly lace from under your bust makes you look heavenly.

You are a gift from Primus and he plans to worship you.

“S-Soundwave..!”

He makes you keep it on, optics watching how your tits bounce out of your flimsy top with every thrust of his spike. He barely gave you a moment to breathe, his movements are quick and needy, as if you have him under a spell and making the usual calm mech break.

It’s partially true.

He can’t resist you, he can’t stop himself from ravaging your soft body. Soundwave watches intentally how your stomach bulges from his spike, how your face twists in pleasure. You make his body run hot, coolant trying to cool his temp, but he can’t, not until he’s fucked your valve full of his transfluid.

“You take me so well. You’ll have to wear these flimsy coverings more often.”

With how you’re getting fucked, how could you refuse?

-

-

Shockwave

He won’t admit it but he’s obsessed with this look of yours, how you sweetly asked if you could show him a surprise you got when you went out ealier, he wasn’t expecting this but he’s not complaining.

Such a cute black collar around your throat with a purple metal tag hanging down, ‘property of Shockwave’ the tag read, and it’s all that was needed to get his spike pressurized. The rest of your attire, if it could even be called that, was nothing short of appleaing.

The top you wore was nothing but strings that barely covered your nipples, the skirt was far too short to cover anything, he could see your needy valve from where he stood, and those purple thigh highs hugging your thighs had his engine going.

“Good pet, you certainly know how to please your master.”

How you shake and moan from his priase, he never gives it out unless you’ve truly pleased him, it just makes you so much needier. His optic watches how you drool seeing his spike pop out frm his modesty paneling, the transfluid leaking from his tip just makes you squirm.

“Come here, pet, you have a mess to clean up.”

He’s trained you well, he thinks, watching you nearly trip over yourself just to get placed on his lap to lick his spike clean.

You know it won’t stay clean if you do a good job, your pussy clenches at the mere thought of how he’s going to fuck you.