#Yay I wrote! :)

[cogneartive]

when i found out simon was around maya and franziska’s age i got frightened a little. then i put them all in persona + some old doodles i put in that seemed to fit

edit: i just realised i wrote the date wrong on aura’s tweet sigh. no that kid did his gcses at 12/13 years old dude

[butchdiaz]

the rush of slumber party kissing

mature, 3.2k, fluff & smut

inspired by a spotify wrapped prompt sent by @gayeddieagenda — 27. naked in manhattan by chappell roan <3

“Okay, Uh—“ he racks his brain for something else Buck has done that he hasn’t. “Never have I ever kissed a man.” Buck doesn't put his finger down, just cocks his head curiously. “Damn, six months without even a kiss, no wonder Tommy left.” Eddie mutters half under his breath. It causes Buck to snap out of his daze and give him a half-hearted middle finger. He’s still thinking, though, eyebrows scrunched together in that adorable way they used to whenever he tried to help Chris with his elementary school math homework. “What, Buck?” “Never?” Buck asks. “No?” Eddie answers. He doesn't know why it comes out as a question. Buck sits up sharply, swinging his legs over the bed and leaning forward like this is suddenly the most important conversation in the world. “Not even like…in the army?” “No, Buck.” Eddie feels his cheeks heat under his scrutiny. “Huh.” He’s staring, eyes piercing into Eddie's fucking soul. “What's that supposed to mean?”

read on ao3

[mmso-notlikethat]

here my last try to make amends 🥺 Part1, Part2, and ao3

The knock on Buck’s door came late, just as he was gearing up for his shift. He still had about an hour before he had to leave, but the last thing he expected was a visitor at this time of night. He frowned, tossing his phone onto the couch and padding barefoot to the door.

When he opened it, Tommy stood there.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Tommy’s eyes were tired but clear, his posture almost tentative, like he was waiting for permission to speak.

“Hi,” Tommy said softly, his hands buried in his hoodie pockets.

Buck crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Tommy’s lips twitched, a faint attempt at humor slipping through his guarded expression. “Well, if it helps, I thought about not showing up. For a while, actually. But then I remembered how charming I am.”

Buck raised an eyebrow, his expression flat. “Yeah, that’s definitely the word I’d use for you right now.”

Tommy tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Dashing? Irresistible?”

“Annoying,” Buck snapped, his voice clipped.

Tommy’s faint smirk dropped, replaced by something softer. “Yeah. That one, too.”

Buck stared at him for a long moment, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked over Tommy’s face. Finally, he exhaled sharply and stepped back. “Forget it. Come in before my neighbors start wondering why I’m glaring at you.”

Tommy stepped inside, his movements careful, like he wasn’t sure he was welcome. He stood near the stairs, glancing around the loft like it might give him clues about how to start.

“So?” Buck prompted, crossing his arms again. “You’ve had days, Tommy. Why now? Why not a call, or a text? No, you just show up and... what? Wing it?”

Tommy hesitated, then smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I figured if I winged it, you’d yell at me less.”

Buck’s glare hardened, and Tommy flinched under it.

“Evan—”

“Don’t,” Buck cut him off sharply. “Don’t say my name like that. Like you didn’t rip me apart and walk away like it was nothing.”

Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what to say, okay?”

Buck’s laugh was bitter. “That’s a first. You had plenty to say when you were walking out the door.”

Tommy winced, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That’s fair.”

“No,” Buck shot back, his voice sharp. “It’s not fair. Nothing about what you did was fair, Tommy.” He paused, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the victim of your own choices.”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it again, visibly gathering himself. Finally, he looked Buck in the eyes and spoke. “You deserve the truth, Evan.”

“Yeah, I do,” Buck said, his arms tightening over his chest. “So why don’t you start there?”

Tommy hesitated, his jaw tightening as though the words were physically painful to say. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes flicking away for a moment before nodding slightly, like he was convincing himself to go on. “Uh...” He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me.”

He stopped, the words hanging in the air before he forced himself to continue, his voice quieter now. “For one reason or another—my fault, their fault, circumstances...” His voice dropped almost to a whisper, “death—it doesn’t matter. It always ends the same. I’ve watched people I cared about walk away, and every time, it felt like they took a piece of me with them. Until there was almost nothing left.”

Buck’s chest tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

Tommy’s voice cracked, but he pushed on. “And then you came along. And you—you were this... this light. You made me feel like maybe I could have something good again. Something worth holding onto. But the thing is... I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust myself not to ruin it.” He stopped, the words catching in his throat as his gaze flicked to Buck, then away again. After a beat, he added, softer this time, “And I didn’t trust you... not to leave.”

Buck’s eyebrows shot up, disbelief flashing across his face. “So you decided to leave first?” His tone was flat, but the hurt in it was unmistakable.

Tommy nodded, shame flickering in his eyes. “It wasn’t about you, Evan. It was about me trying to protect myself from the kind of pain I wasn’t sure I’d survive again.”

“And you thought that would hurt less?” Buck asked, his voice breaking on the question.

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and then his voice rose a, a rare flash of frustration breaking through. “You know you didn’t come after me that day, Evan!” The words were sharp, cutting the air between them like a knife. “What does that tell me? That I’m right?”

Buck flinched, his face breaking in a way that made Tommy’s stomach drop. The anger drained out of him instantly, replaced by regret.

“God, Evan,” Tommy said, softer now, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“No,” Buck said, his voice low but trembling. “But you did.”

Tommy let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “You told me that day that you wanted me to move in with you.” His laugh turned bitter, self-deprecating. “God, Evan, you really didn’t think about me at all when you asked me that, did you?”

Buck’s expression faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Evan, I—” Tommy gestured around the loft, his voice softening as he tried to explain. “I own a house. One I worked hard on. This,” he said, gesturing again toward the space around them, “this is pretty. It’s lovely. I love your loft, Evan. But this isn’t a place for two grown men to live in, is it?”

Buck blinked, his posture stiffening. “You could’ve said something.”

“I didn’t know how to,” Tommy admitted, his tone weary. “I didn’t want to hurt you, and I knew that saying no... it would’ve felt like rejection. But Evan, that day? I panicked. I thought, if I said no, maybe you’d see it as me not wanting to be with you. And if I said yes...” His voice broke slightly. “I didn’t know what to do. So I ran.”

Buck’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of Tommy’s confession settling heavily between them. “You should’ve told me,” Buck said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You should’ve let me in. I would’ve stayed, Tommy. I would’ve fought for us.”

For a moment, Tommy’s eyes flickered with something Buck couldn’t name—relief? Regret? It only stoked the fire in Buck’s chest, the ache shifting into something sharper, hotter.

“You didn’t trust me, Tommy,” Buck said, his voice rising now, shaking with the effort to keep his emotions in check. “You didn’t trust us.” His hands clenched at his sides as the words spilled out, jagged and unrelenting. “You just—” He jabbed his finger toward Tommy, his voice breaking with anger. “You just ran, because that’s what you do. You’re a damn coward—”

Tommy flinched at the word, his breath hitching audibly. Without a word, he turned away sharply, his face angling toward the wall. His shoulders tensed, his hands gripping the edge of the armchair like he was bracing himself for a blow that wouldn’t come.

“What, can’t even look at me now?” Buck snapped, his anger spilling over. “You were so eager to leave, Tommy. So eager to run again. Go ahead, just run—”

Buck stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as something caught his attention. Tommy’s hand jerked upward, brushing quickly at his face, but not fast enough.

“Tommy, wha—” Buck’s tone shifted, his anger faltering as concern flickered in his voice. He took a hesitant step forward. “Are you—?”

Tommy turned back before Buck could finish, his face streaked with tears he’d been trying—and failing—to hide. His jaw was tight, his lips trembling as he sucked in a shaky breath, but the tears kept coming, betraying him. His eyes burned, glassy and raw as they locked onto Buck’s, and there was a flash of something in them that made Buck falter completely.

“Don’t,” Tommy said, his voice trembling but sharp enough to stop Buck in his tracks. His hand trembled as he wiped at his face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. His chest heaved as he fought to speak, to keep it together, but the fight was already lost.

And then, suddenly, he snapped. “You think I wanted to run?” he choked out, his voice breaking. “You think I don’t hate myself every second for leaving you? For breaking this? Do you have any idea what it’s like—” He gestured vaguely, angrily, his voice climbing with every word. “—to feel like you’re going to lose everything, again and again? Do you have any idea how it feels to be so fucking scared of losing someone that you rip your own heart out before they can do it for you?”

His words poured out in a flood, raw and unfiltered, as the tears kept falling. “I left because I thought it would hurt less if I was the one to walk away. But guess what? It doesn’t! It hurts like hell, Evan. Every goddamn day, it hurts.”

Tommy’s hands shook as he scrubbed at his face, but it was useless. The tears kept coming, streaking his cheeks, his voice trembling under the weight of everything he’d been holding in. “You think I ran because I’m a coward? Fine. Call me a coward. Call me whatever you want. But don’t stand there and think I didn’t care. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Buck stared at him, his chest tightening as the anger drained from his face, replaced by something softer. Something unsure. He wanted to say something—anything—but his throat felt too tight, the words sticking like stones.

Tommy let out a bitter laugh, his voice trembling. “You think I don’t hear your voice in my head every day? You think I don’t regret every second of it? I hate what I did. I hate that I hurt you. But I didn’t know how to stay, Evan. I didn’t know how to let myself have something good without being terrified it was going to get ripped away.”

He gestured toward himself, his movements jerky, unsteady. “This—this is me, okay? This mess. This broken, pathetic, scared piece of shit who doesn’t know how to hold on to anything good because everything good always leaves. And I thought maybe if I left first... maybe it would hurt a little less. Maybe I could keep some piece of myself this time.”

The room was thick with silence, heavy with the weight of Tommy’s words. He shook his head, his breathing still uneven as he looked away again, his hand dragging roughly across his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I know it’s not enough. I know it’ll never be enough. But I am so goddamn sorry.”

Buck finally stepped forward, his movements slow, tentative. His hand hovered near Tommy’s arm before he pulled it back, his voice soft but steady. “Tommy... I didn’t know.”

Tommy let out a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Well, I see you now,” Buck said quietly. “And I still—” His voice wavered, but he swallowed hard and pushed on. “I’m still here, Tommy. You didn’t lose me... Not completely.”

Tommy looked at him then, his eyes glassy but searching, like he was trying to find the truth in Buck’s words. His lips trembled, his jaw tightening as he nodded once, the tears still clinging stubbornly to his lashes.

Buck’s chest ached at the sight of him, so raw and open, and he let out a soft, shaky breath. “I’m not saying it’s okay,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m not saying I can just forget about what you did. But I get it now. At least... I think I do.”

Tommy’s breath hitched, his hands still trembling. “I don’t deserve this,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

Buck’s gaze softened, though his tone remained steady. “That’s not for you to decide Tommy,” he said firmly. “We both made mistakes. But if we’re going to do this, it has to be together.”

Tommy’s breath hitched. “I know that now. And I’m here because... because I want to fight for us, too. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their words filling the room. Then Buck shook his head slightly, his voice softer but no less firm.

“You don’t get to do this to me again,” Buck said, his tone laced with exhaustion. “If we’re going to do this, it’s all or nothing. No running. No excuses.”

Tommy nodded, his jaw tight as tears threatened to spill again. “I’m not running, Evan. Not this time.”

Buck let out a shaky breath, his eyes scanning Tommy’s face. The raw vulnerability there made his chest ache, but the weight of the moment pressed down on him, leaving him unsure of what to say next.

He huffed a soft, almost nervous laugh. “You know, I should probably be throwing something at you right now… A pillow, maybe.”

Tommy blinked, a faint crease forming between his brows. “A pillow?”

“Yeah, nothing too dangerous. Just something to get it out of my system.” Buck’s lips quirked upward, but his eyes betrayed the storm of emotions still churning beneath the surface.

Tommy let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well...” Buck shrugged, the small smile fading as his gaze dropped to Tommy’s hands, trembling slightly at his sides. His own hand twitched, the urge to reach out tugging at him, but he hesitated. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he should. If he could.

And then he looked up—really looked—and saw the streaks on Tommy’s face, the glassy sheen in his eyes, the way he was holding himself together by sheer force of will. Something in Buck softened, the edges of his anger and hurt giving way to the undeniable pull of the man standing in front of him.

Without overthinking, Buck closed the space between them, his movements slow, deliberate. His forehead came to rest gently against Tommy’s, their breaths mingling in the fragile silence.

“Ask me, Tommy,” Buck whispered, his voice breaking with emotion, his eyes fluttering shut as he let himself feel the closeness, the weight of everything unsaid between them.

Tommy’s breath caught, his eyes glassy as he whispered back. “Evan... will you give me a second chance? A second chance so I can prove to you how much you matter to me, how much I love you?”

Buck kissed him softly, his hands coming up to rest against Tommy’s shoulders. When they pulled back, he smiled faintly. “Only if you trust me this time. With your heart and all of it.”

Tommy let out a watery laugh, their foreheads still pressed together, their noses brushing. “We’ll make this work,” he said firmly, his voice thick with emotion.

Buck nodded, kissing him again, deeper this time. When they finally pulled apart, Buck whispered, “I have a shift.”

Tommy chuckled, his hand lingering on Buck’s arm. “Really? And... should we meet on Saturday?”

Buck laughed, shaking his head as he pulled Tommy into a tight hug.

---

Sunday morning, a knock echoed through Buck’s loft. He opened the door, his hair tousled and his shirt still wrinkled from sleep.

Tommy stood there, holding a bag of groceries and wearing a tentative smile.

“Can I make you some pancakes?”

Buck stared at him for a beat, then grinned, stepping aside to let him in.

[chara-55]

No doubt he's a Megatronus merch collector

[noise-misato-boy-destroyer]

biggest disappointment of the insanely horny direction my life has taken since transitioning is that i haven't held hands with a girl and made out with her while we're both getting fucked too hard to focus

[slushfaerie]

you and art were invited to his grandma's friend's holiday party. you really don’t want to go.

art donaldson x introverted!fem reader (or fem reader that would just rather stay home and have her way with loverboy art and vice versa..bc like...) incredibly self-indulgent and hastily written. inspired by my desire to stay home and also my desire for art donaldson. nsfw elements! way steamier than what i've written before. happy holidays and/or happy wednesday <33

it was almost time to leave and you'd put off getting ready for as long as you possibly could.

art looks up from his spot lounging on the couch with bated breath as you emerge from the bathroom, steam billowing through your hotel room.

his mouth all but hangs open as he sees you, cheek resting against his hand as he takes you in, probably wrinkling his pressed collared shirt he’s chosen to wear, sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

there you stood like some sort of angel - wrapped in a silky white robe, still-damp locks of hair framing your face. he would stare at you forever if he could. 

art’s attuned to you as you let out a soft sigh, your gaze a million miles away. holiday gatherings - gatherings in general - weren’t your most favorite thing. but you’d at least have art to buoy you through the evening, trying to make you laugh with aptly timed snide comments whispered in your ear at the expense of other partygoers. he'd reach his hand beneath the dinner table, thumb caressing your thigh acting as a life preserver. anything for you. 

art was agreeable, malleable in social situations, but he could think of a thousand other places he’d rather be - almost all of them having to do with you wrapped around him in some way. 

as you reach for your moisturizer on the dresser, art’s hand covers yours before intertwining your fingers. you melt against him as he slots his body behind yours, kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck. he has to hold back a moan as he inhales the scent of your shampoo, of you. 

art undoes the tie of your robe, peeling it off and putting you on display to him, only in your cute bra and panties. you watch as he grabs the tub of moisturizer himself and unscrews the lid with diligent fingers, warming some between his hands. 

the way art massages your shoulders, it's as if he hopes to melt away your nerves and tension, leaving kisses in their wake. he hums approvingly as he feels you exhale.

you turn around to face him, your robe a silky pool at your feet, a look of momentary bliss on your face from his ministrations. he turns his head to press a gentle kiss to your palm as you cup his cheek with your hand.

art lets out a gasp as you lace your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours. he kisses you back in earnest, licking into your mouth as his warm hands wander down to palm your ass, massaging with as much devotion as he'd given the rest of you, pulling you against him. he'd drown in you if you'd let him.

art lays you down on the bed as he continues to massage the moisturizer into your arms, pressing kisses and giving attention to each hand, each individual finger. looking down to meet his gaze, you see his pupils dwarfing the depths of his blue eyes with that little kiss of brown.

you can't hold back your moans as art leaves lingering kisses on the tops of your breasts - he's all lips and tongue and gentle nips, teasing the hardening buds of your nipples through your bra, trailing his way down your stomach. 

art’s lashes flutter shut as he licks the sensitive skin around your navel, tracing teasing shapes with his tongue right above the cute little bow at the top of your panties. god, you tasted so sweet.

art gives you a crooked grin as you squirm, cheeks flushing, breath now coming out in sweet, shallow pants.

"y'know, you're making me wanna keep you here all to myself."

you mumble with weak protest something about being worried about being late, about making a good impression on his grandmother. art chuckles and rolls his eyes with resignation.

"okay, if you say so." he crawls up your body, giving your cheek a tender caress with his thumb as he leans in closer.

"just wait until i get you back here," the words of encouragement more for himself than you at this point as art pulls himself away and goes to retrieve his sweater from the hotel dresser.

a little motivation to get you both through the night never hurt anyone.

[transformers-spike]

Knockout x Reader x Breakdown nsfw. Come on, I know you wanna

I will never recover from the predator/prey fic so here have something wholesome for once

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath, barely taking in Breakdown’s spike. From sheer size alone, it feels like marching into a sex shop and demanding the giant dildo they use to attract tourists. Knock Out, cunty as ever, already has his far-too-soft-for-metal lips against your collarbone. If you were a sensible person, you would have shot down the mere mention of a threesome. Alas, the notion of trying this new thing called “mass displacement” called to you like a kid at a candy store. If you didn’t have the audacity to say yes, you would have missed the suppleness of Knock Out’s tongue and the unexpected gentleness of Breakdown’s fingers working you up. You love these guys enough to put up with their strange antiques and deal with their unusually-high-for-their-kind sex drive (or interface drive as Breakdown kindly pointed out before Knock Out immediately adopted the human lingo). They must have watched human porn, there’s just no way they haven’t – not with the way they stroke your body like frat boys finally getting their groove on after years of studying up on the sex. If you had the energy, you would be currently exploring the seams in their anatomy and dragging your fingers dangerously close to the openings in their frames, but there’s very little you can do when you’re busy getting plowed by two giant alien lifeforms. Knock Out, after having given you the most mind-blowing orgasm with his tongue alone, has fucked you so thoroughly you were practically on your own intergalactic voyage through space as Breakdown held you against his frame, having taken the brunt of his partner’s sexual frustration before they even dared to involve your squishy human insides. Dripping with two kinds of transfluids (the valve and the spike kind) you were gazing at them all blearily, looking unsexy as hell like you just got out of a car crash (minus the blood and with more alien cum). The warmth in their optics felt surreal and welcoming. You were small and fleshy against two titans who have witnessed more beauty than you ever will in your entire human life, but it was as though you were the center of their universe. If you hadn’t been crying from getting the best orgasms of your life, you would have teared up. Now, passed over to Knock Out – whose chassis you’ve grown accustomed to enough to relegate any sadness caused by watching his shiny plating be smudged by your natural oils to the back of your mind – you whimper and steer as his far too competent tongue drags across your neck, servos holding your ass still while Breakdown continues at a steady pace. “Holy shit-” you mumble, words cut short as the holder of the biggest dick you’ve ever had cups your cheek and kisses the side of your mouth. For all his eagerness, he’s softer than Knock Out, especially for a bot as big as him who looks like he crushes cars between his servos (which may actually be true considering the hammers he can summon to for melee). Another climax rolls through you, harder than the last one, inciting a pathetic high pitched anime girl mewl from your part. Breakdown grunts against your ear, metal whirring underneath his frame and against your back as your walls clamp down on him hard enough to drag out his long-overdue overload. His noises only serve to excite Knock Out who captures your lips with his and grinds his still-pressurized spike against the sensitive cluster of nerves between your legs. You come out of your trance having experienced your own death and resurrection, eyes misty and perpetually confused as you wake on the doctor’s slightly softer than steel berth with him hovering over you like a predator. It doesn’t take long for you to notice Breakdown’s fingers stroking your cheek, and once he knows he has your attention, he slips one of his massive digits between your thighs to begin rubbing against the long abused and overused sweet spot. Looking down at Knock Out’s gorgeous spike, you whisper a prayer to Primus Himself as you’re once again assailed by inhumane pleasure.

[ladymochimochi]

✦♡✦ Take A Break ✦♡✦

Katakuri x Fem!Reader [AO3 Link] Description: It's Katakuri's birthday but he's too busy working on paperwork, so you try to get him to take a break. Tags: Size difference, Reader is average human size, Thigh Riding, Dry Humping, Grinding, Tit job, Facial, Kata is a shy boy, Reader & Kata are married, 18+ MDNI Words: 1.5K ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The soft click of your heels reverberated down the hall as you searched for your husband. It was a special day today and you wanted to spend as much time as you could with him. You had looked all over the manor the two of you lived in on Komugi Island but there was only one place left that he could be. 

As you approached his office door, a sigh came from you. Of course, this was where he would be, even today.  

You gently opened the door to find Katakuri at his desk, grossly involved in his paperwork. His eyes didn’t even lift from the page in his hand as you entered further into the room. 

“I thought I said no more interruptions.” Katakuri said gruffly, as he put the paper down to write on it, still not looking at you.  

“Not even from your wife?” You asked, a light snark to your tone and your arms now crossed.  

His head snapped up to look you, now standing in the middle of his office. Katakuri could only fumble out your name as he tried to gather himself, a light blush dusting the tops of his cheeks you could see over his scarf. 

The two of you had been married for about six months now but he was still shy around you and you couldn’t help but revel in it. This man - basically triple your size and with this tough, badass exterior - melted every time he was alone with you. It was so endearing to you but there was also a part of you that loved to make his blush redder and redder. 

A feline-like grin spread across your face as you gave him a small wave.  

“S-Sorry.” He said, fiddling with the pen in his hand. “I just kept getting visits from my siblings all morning.” 

“Well, it is your birthday today, my love.” You told him, that smile still on your face. His body jolted slightly and Katakuri averted his gaze, blush spreading more.  

Your smile only grew. 

“I didn’t know that you knew that was today...” He said softly, bringing a hand up to adjust his scarf and you quietly tracked the movement. You still had not seen what was under that piece of fabric and as much as you loved to tease the big man, even that you knew was off limits.  

“Of course I know that.” You replied, taking your gaze away from his scarf and back to his still averted eyes. “You are my husband, after all.” 

You started to make your way over the side of his large desk as you asked him the question on your mind. 

“And with it being your birthday today, why are you cooped up in here all by yourself?” 

“A-Ah, well...” He started, looking down at you as you now stood next to his seated form. “I had some down time today so I figured I could get this paperwork done.” 

You nodded your head in response, looking over what you could see of the stacks of paper on his desk. You had wanted to spend some time with him before he was swept away by the family for his birthday celebration later this evening. At this rate though, with all this work, that wasn’t going to happen.  

“How about taking a break?” You asked him, hopeful he’d say yes. 

“Sorry, I have to get this done.” Katakuri told you, an apologetic look on his face. “M-Maybe you could sit in here with me though?”  

You gave him a soft smile, liking that idea.  

It was at least something, you supposed. 

But after giving the room a quick glance, there wasn’t really any furniture you could sit on without his help. 

“Could I be up there with you? Maybe on your lap?” You asked him, looking back up at him. 

Katakuri froze, eyes wide and staring at you. 

That light blush from before was now beet red and all Katakuri could respond with was small, quick nods as he reached to pick you up. 

He set you gently on his thigh near his hip and checked with you that you were good. After confirming with him, Katakuri went back to his work and you watched quietly, kicking off your heels.  

Being this close to him sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell by his rigidness that it was the same for your husband. 

The two of you sat like that for some time - him scribbling notes or signatures on various papers and you watching, making idle chatter. 

As you talked with him, your hand started to idly stroke his thigh which made his breath hitch. It made that spark inside you ignite again and you rubbed your hand along his thigh more purposefully now. His breathing picked up and it made you have to bite back a smile.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break?” Your tone was sultry and Katakuri’s grip on his pen was near breaking. It hadn’t been what you originally had in mind but now that you were here, you decided to shoot your shot. 

“Maybe a small one won’t hurt.” He replied, his voice low and you looked back up at him to see him staring intently at you. That blush was still ever present but his eyes portrayed his arousal. You grinned up at him and shifted yourself so you straddled his thigh, facing him. 

The two of you had only been intimate at night and in the privacy of your bedchamber. So, to be doing this here and now like this added another level of excitement that you knew Katakuri was also feeling. 

You had been wearing a strappy dress that day and you lowered the straps to show off your breasts to him. A low groan came from him as his eyes roamed your chest.  

You started to rock your hips, rubbing your clothed core against his thigh. A breathy moan escaped from your lips and you used your hands placed behind you to anchor yourself. Katakuri pressed his thigh harder against you, letting you use him to chase your pleasure. Your hips rocked faster and your head lolled back, moans spilling from you.  

Katakuri could only watch you like he was in a trance. Seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure made his cock so hard it was near painful.  

As you continued to rub yourself against him, you reached forward to press your hand against his cock still kept behind his leather pants. A loud groan came from your husband and you matched it as your toes curled. 

You loved hearing him moan; you could almost get off on it alone. Being able to have this large man be putty in your hands was everything to you. It gave you a high like no other. 

As you continued to rock your hips, you could feel your climax building in your lower stomach. Your moans pitched higher and higher until you cried out, your orgasm washing over you.  

You slumped forward, your hand still pressed against Katakuri’s cock. After some deep breaths, you lifted your head up to lock eyes with him. 

“I need It." You told him, panting. Katakuri’s eyes were blown wide after watching you and he just nodded in response. 

He lifted you from his leg and placed you on his desk, moving the papers out of the way. You laid on your back as he stood up and removed his cock from his pants. 

The two of you weren’t really able to have intercourse but you found other ways to be intimate that you both enjoyed. As Katakuri got closer, you hurriedly removed your dress and panties. 

Now it was his turn to use you. 

He placed his large cock against your stomach, your legs spread around it and the tip resting between your breasts. You pressed your tits together and Katakuri started to thrust, his cock rubbing up against your whole body, balls hitting your thighs and ass.  

Being so overwhelmed by his massive length and the stimulation of it rubbing against your clit and nipples, you could do nothing but moan and roll your eyes back. Soon your chest was getting smeared with precum and Katakuri picked up his pace, groaning deeply.  

You brought your hands up and rubbed them along his shaft as he went, making his moans near whines. In this position it didn’t take long for Katakuri to finish and you could tell by the way his body tensed that he was close.  

You tightened your spread thighs around his cock and moaned out his name. Soon enough, his hot seed was shooting out of him and all over your chest and face. His cock slid off of you and he pulled back, panting as he looked you over.  

You were a sexed-up mess, but you didn’t care. The way he gazed at you like you were a goddess made your heart warm. 

As you came down from your high and you were able to take in your current state, a smile spread across your face once more. 

“Well, I don’t think I can show up to your birthday party looking like this.” 

Katakuri hid himself in his scarf in embarrassment.  

[sadcoms]

until i recently read posts on here about how there is an inherent queerness to the doctor and rose's relationship in how it's unspoken and filled with yearning that i'd never really considered that element, despite knowing for ages that RTD is gay but. man. it's just reframed a lot of the series for me, like the idea that you have this lonely man who's just watched his people die and is self-destructive and misanthropic and traumatised and he can love again and he wants to but it has so many risks.

but especially S3 and how it adds even more weight to the doctor's grieving widower status. how he tells martha that he and rose were together but martha refers to rose as a friend to tallulah; the fact that he can only say they were together once she is gone; how the only other person that both can feel how he feels but also understands the depth of his feelings is jack, a queer man himself. and I've been thinking to myself lately oh, it's ok, the doctor and rose probably accidentally got married on at least one planet or something but also the point is that there was no official title that could convey to people the extent that they meant to each other, that the doctor can really only tell donna that rose was his friend even though it is so wholly inadequate and she comes to see that by the end of the episode (and martha too of course). how people who saw the doctor and rose together assumed they were a couple, like on krop tor, but once there's no more physical evidence of the relationship it becomes more vague (and simultaneously clearer).

anyway something about how christopher eccleston said he based his portrayal of nine on RTD and something about RTD saying that his husband is "in every good man i write now" and how the doctor and ruby seeing each other in the club mimics his first meeting with his husband aka the one moment he would use a time machine to go back to hmmm

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[lucabyte]

If you wouldn't mind, could you explain to me in detail how your sifloop works? Would there ever be a romantic relationship between the two (and how do you think they would get to that stage) or do you just think they'll be stuck in this weird messed up obsession and loathing loop forever? Anyway your takes on sifloop are my favourite if you couldn't tell

Oh, I've been depicting it as romantic the whole time (remembers I'm asexual and aromantic and thus my depictions of such are alien at best) Er, though you'd be forgiven for not noticing.

I know I don't draw them being particularly traditionally cute (kissing, cuddling, etc) (even though I do envision that any time it's not literally extremely inconvenient that they are entangled like a pair of magnetised squiddles) particularly often.*

(Though, I do have some hints at that kind of behaviour: (x) (x) (x)) But this is where, hm, my particular readings of these characters' self-assessment comes in.

I believe that I (an aroace tumblr user who has been immersed in nuianced language about such things since i was an early teen) and Siffrin/Loop (a guy approaching their thirties who seems to have escaped social pressures primarily via isolation from their peers) will have some different views on things. Hell, Sif/Loop don't even have words for Asexuality and Aromanticism even if they seem to be able to point toward the feeling with roundabout language.

I think that their relationship, in the way that it would manifest, would first and foremost be Physical. Some real Maslow's hierarchy shit. Both of them are viciously touch starved and given the whole shared-ownership-of-body thing I keep alluding to (x) (x) I think they are prone to being a tangled pile of limbs both clothed and unclothed.

Now I (enlightened modern day asexual) do not think that physical/sexual/romantic are in any way synonyms unless you want them to be. I believe that literally all associated behaviours of these can be platonic if that's how you feel about it. Howeverrrrrrr. I really cannot envision "black-and-white-thinking-world-champion siffrin and/or loop" being able to disentangle that so easily. I think they would have trouble squaring the circle of certain actions not being reserved for romance, at least not until after several years of continued unpacking and philosophical discussion with Mirabelle and Odile.

And then there's the part where Siffrin/Loop (and also Isabeau!) have some absolutely insane Jealous streaks. Not even on the downlow, they just do. I think that combination of jealousy and posessiveness when paired with unevenly splitting time between A Guy You're Established To Be (at the very least on his side, romantically) In Love With, and Your Weird Fucking Clone Who You Keep Being Intimate And Intensely Emotional With, is going to cause some problems when it comes to labelling things.

I do not think Sif/Loop are stupid, but man do they ever lack emotional intelligence in a lot of areas (a thing the whole game hammers home). I do not think that they would be level-headed enough to independently invent the idea of "QPR, but the kind where you do basically fuck sometimes". I think they would just (agonise over cheating, first of all.) call it a romantic pairing and be done with it.

And then Isabeau is also there I guess. I gesture at him and at my aforementioned Iseabeau Torment Nexus thoughts (x)(x). I believe this polycule can work and even be healthy but hahahaha oh man they are gonna have some weirrrrrrd fuckin tension beforehand lolllll.

as for how i think they'd get to that stage? lol, lmao. I think of things with a lens of 'what would be the most narratively intense' a lot of the time, so my answer there is:

They basically act like one right out of the gate, at least to the average onlooker**. This makes the fights feel worse. This makes them both paranoid in different ways about how this affects Siffrin's relationship to Isabeau. This makes it more difficult for the party to go "hey so, your friend, we're all being very accepting of their sharp edges because they're clearly someone who's struggling, but why are they suuuuch an asshole?". They fret about this and it causes more push and pull as either side feels guilty about this relationship they're not 'supposed' to have. Even if their relationship woes could easily be squared away by either categorising it as a QPR or talking to Isa (who is vaugardian and probably thus lax about polyamory) neither of them are going to do that right out of the gate because they lack the language, are prone to being wracked by guilt, often assume the worst will happen should they talk about difficult topics, and straight up maybe just see intimacy/sexuality/romance as a package deal due to lacking the social expertise... You see what I mean.

I don't Know if what I envision is... The literal platonic ideal of "A Romantic Relationship". I don't know that if Cupid came on down and inspected my brain that they'd agree that this is romantic and not just like, something really fucking weird, man. I don't even know if I would call it romantic, necessarily. BUT. I Do Think. That These Two. Would Maybe Label It That Way. Because it would make it easier for them to understand and come to peace with that way. Which is what matters. Labels are Descriptive, not Prescriptive.

What I DO think i envision however is something so fucking aroace brained that i can point to sif/loop's canon labels, point to MY labels, and then give you a big thumbs up hoping that you won't get on my ass for implying several sentences upstream that "they probably basically fuck, or something, idk, does star-sucking count as sex? i'm not a doctor nor medical professional of any kind. you probably shouldn't drink whatever comes out of it though"

Implicit question 2: "Jesus Christ you make them seem to hate each other, is that not contradictory? Is that all supposed to be during them being romantically involved?" Yup! Sorry for the subtle undercurrent I haven't previously explicitly and overtly established literally at all but a good chunk of that percieved hatred is a byproduct of Loop keeping their identity secret. That's the space wherein I set most of my fanart. (x) Once that cat is out of the bag I think the heat cools off significantly because then they aren't both talking around each other trying not to actually say what they're fighting about. They can actually bond about shared experiences out in the open rather than keeping their traps shut in case the party overhears. They still fight and have problems thereafter, but it's not made worse by being unable to directly discuss the core issue (+ the party can actually contribute/try to shut things down rather than being unclear on what exactly the issue is)

The above ALSO not helping when it comes to jealousy/feelings of infidelity re: Isabeau. (When specifically in the context of Romantic Frustration here, since that jealousy extends to the whole party when generalised) So that adds another thing to, not necessarily fight about, but be bitter over.

As for hatred being contradictory. Mmm. Nah.

The opposite of Love is not Hate. It is Indifference. (A theme ISAT notably gets at). Hate is distinctly something you do if you care. Often if you care Way Too Much.

I try not to write them hating each other, so much as feeling extremely intensely about each other. (x)

Feeling intensely Thankful, Understood, Sorry, Trapped, Devoted, Jealous, Protective, Pitying, Indebted...

^ Scary ! Complicated ! Hard to deal with ! Even the positive ones can be overwhelming! It's gonna make things weird!

So uh, Yeah. There's your answer? I suppose tl;dr: I view relationships as nebulous and only defined by those in it. (This is something I have previously yapped about at length in essays about my OCs lol) And generally view that there's no "true" label for any relationship except the one that doesn't cause undue distress. (which. i mean it does here. but it probably works out in the end with enough talking)

Asking me to define if something is romantic is like asking me to pin down the true form of the Human Soul. Like dawg i dont know how to do that i dont even know if that shit is real. there are merely actions and their constructed societal categories. If i tell you I think they kiss sometimes does that clear it up? (It shouldn't, obviously, but you get what I mean)

But yeah. Gestures broadly. Shipping an ace (and maybe even aroace based on some shit that little fella says) character like this means it comes with an essay. Because it necessarily interfaces with their nonstandard mode of interaction in that arena. The part where its weirdo fucking ♠ ♥ ♦ ♣ selfcest merely adds a layer.***

... Anyway I'll leave you with this. The mirasifloop qpr "so what is.... romance?" discussion sessions are probably downright dialectical aren't they. Feelings Buddies discuss the phrase "Self-Love" 23467324235 dead 3 injured

*i do have like . 2 wips. that would. include this kind of behaviour explicitly. but i simply have not gotten around to them yet. and also don't worry neither of them are purely fluff both of them still have an air of worrying fuckedupedness about them. yay !

** inkeeping with my "geared for maximal conflict" mind, this can be flavoured with some "technically nobody can say it's not canon, I guess?" during-the-game Sifloop. By handing them the 'started leaning on each other for comfort more blatantly toward the end of a4' thing, since, well, I think exploring the "Loop expected at least one of them to be dead by the end of this/Loop never expected this to end, and thus began filling in that 'Lover' role as comfort/pity/selfishness/mercy given their knowledge that Isabeau is forever out of reach for both of/at least one of them" angle is... Well it's certainly fuckin' compelling that's for sure. Like oops, you let the timeloop malaise get to you and maybe started a trist because you thought you'd be dead before there'd be any lasting consequences. Here's those consequences, motherfucker !! But you won't catch me putting that explicitly in my comics because I don't want to change anything about the raw text of canon when I'm exploring its consequences. However, nothing I do is Incompatible with this read. And I enjoy making things more tortured so. Shrugs and hands this to you. Be free. (....x)

*** those of you that know what i mean by this just had all of it click just now didnt you. lol.

[bluewolfangel01]

Man, there's so much that I want! But most of all, I wanna hear you say "Happy birthday." C'mon, I'm waitin'. Whenever you're ready. -Mammon's birthday notification

Context: Mammon and Mc are in Mc's room watching a movie Mammon picked, while he lays his head in their lap while on their bed

Mc:"Hey Mammon..."

Mammon:"Yeah?" He says while looking up towards Mc's face

Mc: leans down close to his head with a soft smile on their face "Happy Birthday" then kisses Mammon on his forehead

Mammon: silent for a moment but afterwards gently guides Mc so he can cuddle and be the big spoon

Mammon: "y-yeah yeah, just watch the movie."

...

Mammon: "thanks"

Mammon then holds Mc even closer, kisses their shoulder, and the pair continue to watch the movie till they fall asleep.

Happy semi-late B-day Mams🎉

Credit to @sister-lucifer for divider

[butchdiaz]

every place leads back to your place

rated g, 2k, fluff & angst, getting together

inspired by a spotify wrapped prompt sent by @iinryer — 55. coffee by chappell roan

Eddie doesn’t love him back. Buck would know by now—he's been out for almost a year, broken up with Tommy for months, and—radio silence. Eddie has been finding joy, going after what he wants. He would have gone after Buck by now. So Eddie is straight, and he doesn't love Buck. And maybe Buck loves Eddie but—it's okay. Nothing has to change.

read on ao3

tagging some friends<3

@chronicowboy @userbuddie @gayeddieagenda @lemmeaskthedevil @saryasy

@team-118 @poughkeepsies @letbuckfuck @try-set-me-on-fire @eddiebabygirldiaz

@outdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @shitouttabuck @buckgettingstruck @sibylsleaves

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[calmbigdipper]

What you mean to me

[mcondance]

peter who tells you to just breathe

peter’s big, in multiple senses of the word. you both know this. he’s tall, and he’s buff, and, you know, he’s hung. . so it’s a process when you want him and he wants you, even if it hasn’t been that long.

kissing on the couch ends up with you bent over said couch, cause why walk stumble to the bedroom between kisses and touches and grabs when peter’s mumbling between one kiss and tug of clothes and another “couch, darlin’, right here’s good, anywhere’s good” and you oblige, kissing him again before you turn around and arch your back pretty how he likes it, jolting a little when you feel his hands ghost up the backs of your thighs

and yeah, foreplay helps— one, two, three of his fingers sliding slow and smooth inside you while he reaches under you to tease your clit— but he’s still big, and you can only take so much foreplay before you’re pushing back on him and throwing all caution to the wind. “just put it in,” you’re begging, and quill knows it’s gonna take a while to actually do what you said but at this point, fuck it.

he wastes no time, wraps his hand around his cock and taps his fat tip against your wet cunt, and pushes in just a little. you tense up, and he’s rubbing up and down your back and kneading your sides, humming “you got it, darlin’, you always do.”

and you know you do, but fuck, he’s big.

but he encourages you, whispers “just breathe, baby, le’me in.”

with deep breaths and peter’s hand snaking under you to play gently with your clit, he sliiidess in just a little more, praising you— "look at you, my perfect girl, takin' me so good."

he keeps praising you with every slide of his cock deeper inside you, his sweet tongue never growing short of words to help you. "almost there, pretty, you almost got it" and "you got it, star, know how good you can take it."

and when you close the gap yourself, push back onto him until your ass meets his hips, he's groaning softly as he watches your cunt swallow him up.

"'m all the way in," he tells you. "looked so pretty lettin' me stretch you open."

it takes a minute for you to tell him "move, baby, please", but it's not long until he's pulling out to slide right back in and you're moving back on him, listening to his slurred praises mix with your pretty moans and whines.