#and it is super uncomfortable to witness

[asteria-argo]

you know as someone who doesn't want kids but enjoys the hell out of families in fiction both found and otherwise, I gotta say the people who are vehemently against the idea of their Girlboss Fav having kids because it'll ruin their characters are usually right but they're also super annoying about it.

[haarute]

i'm sorry but as someone who is always trying to understand most things and most people, the reaction a lot of folks have of immediately dismissing something or jumping to an outrage without having a second to try to reflect on a situation or process empathy is something that i will never relate to and i consider to be a bad mentality to have if left unchecked actually

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Batman had Danny by his leg. More specifically he was hanging Danny upside-down 40 stories in the air via said leg.

Okay. So Danny maaay have stolen some tech from a lab. Okay, a lot of tech. But Batman thought he was a witness or an accomplice! Not the perpetrator themselves! Does he do this to all his witnesses?

Appearently Danny said that last part out loud and his sass was unappreciated, hence Batman letting go. Unfortunately for both of them Danny didn't want to fall and he instinctually stayed there floating perfectly still in mid air.

Danny may be a terrible liar, but he was a phenomenal actor, especially when he's feeling spiteful. Alright, he thought random bullshit GO! Before Batman could comment, our little menace gave Batman a scandalized look, "You're a meta?!"

"No." The bats scowled even harder than before "Your abilities may have manifested just now."

Oh ho ho, Danny wasn't going to let him get away that easy. "My parents would have killed me if I had the meta gene. I know. They checked." That one wasn't exactly a lie. His parents would have seen any superpowers as confirmation that he or Jazz were ghosts and then it was game over and they did check thier DNA for something a lot when they were younger...huh. Thoughts for later than.

"How do you know you haven't gotten mutated by any of the stuff you deal with? Besides if they were my powers then I wouldn't still be hanging upside down."

Bats grunted in acknowledgment and just stared at him for a few seconds, which was uncomfortable. Lucky for him one of the other bats landed near Batman on the rooftop and asked about the situation. Danny didn't hesitate, "Batmans a meta! I'm stuck!"

"I am not"

"Are too!" Danny quipped back. He sounded kinda childish but he didn't particularly care at the moment. More bats came after the second one spilled the beans on some 'com' thing. They mostly mocked Batman and asked if he was okay, which he was but he would like to be let down please.

Eventually someone called 'Red Hood' showed up and was really really mad that Batman had threatened a kid.

There were fireworks after that. The kind that belonged on a soap opera and Danny wished he had popcorn for it. Unfortunately he was stuck disrespecting physics for the time being.

Or was he? The big bad bats attention wasn't on him at the moment now would be a good time to ru-

Danny screamed, genuinely startled at the sudden free fall. He heard multiple people swear and grappling hooks fire. The next thing he knew he was shaking while holding onto someone for dear life. It had been almost a full year since the accident and yet he still lost control of his powers sometimes when distracted.

Luckily Red Hood is super cool.

----

Aka Danny gaslight Batman into thinking he has superpowers he can't control.

Red Hood is mad Bruce threatened a child.

[ilydeku]

Hello!! Before I start, I just want to say that your green profile aesthetic is so prettyyy😭😭😭 it honestly reminds me of Pinterest idk. Can I request IT!girl!reader dating middle school Izuku? (im just in love w loser bf x drop dead gorg reader!)

tysm anonnie !!❤️❤️

im not sure if i did this right, but here u go 😭💕

~

you, an IT girl, dating izuku in middle school

- now this is quite the unexpectation

- what were you doing with the quirkless loser, Deku??

- you, so full of confidence with the way you carried yourself, loads of friends, grades of flying colors, beauty unmatched, a strong quirk. the list goes on

- him? the only thing remarkable is probably his will to keep going. just a quirkless outcast, a shameless nerd with unreachable dreams

- LITERALLY THIS LMFAOO:

- so why? it came as a GREAT surprise to see a post of you and Deku hanging out at a kitty cafe on insta. was it a dare? a prank? like ts gotta be some typa joke right

- WRONGG.

- they're merely scratching the surface, a surface that's not at all what it seems

- he's a really sweet boy, completely taken advantage of because of his meekness

- despite being quirkless, he was the realest person you've encountered in the school: observant, hard working, respectful. it's not like a quirk defines you anyway

- it's so embarrassing watching a classmate with the most ugly, useless, atrocious quirk you've ever witnessed poke fun at Deku

- like oh my GOSH dude they get humbled QUICK after you mention that you'd rather be quirkless

- like atp that ain't a quirk that's a disability 💀—not to be mean, but to make a point that Deku is just as capable of becoming a hero as anyone else

- going to school dances with Deku would be a lot more enjoyable if it weren't for those meddling whispers about you two. he often gets pushed to the sidelines 'cause you get swarmed by your friends and bombarded with questions :(

- but in the end, you came with him and mattered the most to him.

- he gets so nervous when he's around you, help him, he can't even look at you

- not in offense or anything. you make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he can't help but feel enveloped by your presence

- you're this beautiful ray of light and he's kinda just..the shadow that follows after

"Izuku...Izuku did I do something wrong?"

"What? N-No! Of course not!"

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

"Because you're—you're really pretty..."

"Pfft. You're really pretty too."

- Deku doesn't really initiate anything, thinking it'd be too lame or uncomfortable for you :( and if he does, he'll hesitate and drawback any ideas aforethought

- he follows you like a little puppy, always at your disposal

- he knows NOTHING about dating, only the note of going to amusements parks and sharing a sweet treat

- his confidence dwindles :( maybe he could learn a thing or two from you? <3

- when i tell you he was absolutley shocked when you confessed to him. his immediate reaction was playing it off as a joke

Wh..What? Oh...very funny, y/n...Huh..? YOU'RE SERIOUSOWUEIDEGHD!?!?

- he ALWAYS questions your feelings towards him—why me of all others? but i'm just a regular boy and you're..you? (gorgeous, pretty, beautiful, super cool, whole hearted, sweet...)

- and you can reassure everytime—because you're you and i like you!! a one of a kind.

- Deku doesn't have much to give to you, but he does have a big heart and alotta love

- maybe he is a loser, but he's your loser, and you wouldn't have him any other way

[thegoldencontracts]

Housewarden Kisses

Riddle is rather shy about kissing at first. He's never really received much affection. That's alright, though. It's rather adorable witnessing his flustered face, and he does kiss you quite a bit after the while. He prefers simple cheek kisses, and - though he's more hesitant to admit it - forehead kisses. Something about it is just so comforting.

Leona is fairly casual about kisses in private, though he does dislike PDA for a multitude of reasons. So long as you're comfortable, he'll frequently press little pecks to your cheek, or even to your lips. He's rather easily flustered when you're the one to kiss him, though.

Azul attempts to kiss in a "gentlemanly" manner, being chaste and pressing kisses to your hand, or maybe your cheek if he has intention to tease. Deep down, though, he wants nothing more than for you to be the one to kiss him. Perhaps you could give him that. Then again, watching him struggle to ask you for a kiss outright is rather comedic.

Kalim loves quick little cheek kisses! He himself doesn't really care if it's in public, but if you're uncomfortable with it, he'll be sure to respect that. On very rare occasions, though, he'll go in for a deeper kiss. You'll have to initiate most of those ones, it seems.

Vil prefers to kiss you during the morning and night - before he's put his makeup on and after he's taken it off. He prefers to remain composed in public as well, and giving your cheeks lipstick marks is no way to do that. But, on occasion, he can't help himself. You didn't even bother to wipe it off upon him pointing it out, and, well- is it really so bad to let others know you're taken?

Idia is super nervous about kisses at first. Trying to kiss your or being kissed by you both make him feel like he could combust any second now. It's honestly pretty cute, watching him get all flustered. Of course, he'll try to dismiss it as him just not bothering with normie stuff. Like you believe that for one second.

Malleus takes a while to get used to the concept of kisses as a method to show affection, but once he does, he can't help but do it frequently. On your lips, cheek, hand, and really, all over your face. At first, he's rather easily flustered by your affections, but with time, he grows used to it - anticipating it, even.

[justporo]

hello!!! Can you write some protective Astarion headcanons? Like how he would be super protective over his Tav when they're in an established relationship? Thank you!!!!

Oh, absolutely I can, because I have said alreadyAstarion is a firm believer of the ancient proverb "murder is okay, but it's not okay to disrespect MY WIFE" (this is genderneutral at this point)

So thank you for the request and have some

Headcanons about Astarion being protective over his partner

It's really all fun and games as long as you are fine; he's very much accustomed to just be flirty all around and so it's all good as long as you are comfortable with it or initiated it

But as soon as someone puts a toe over the line he turns into a bloodhound

He stands behind you staring down whoever it is that's disrespecting you or making you uncomfortable - but you're your own person and he let's you handle it - at first

He'll happily stand by and watch you take them apart yourself; but he'll have your back if need be

He just perfectly embraces being the deadly predator he is: stands there like a statue, not a single movement, not a thing distracting him from staring down his target

Some people don't seem to get that that's a VERY angry vampire staring them down and if they keep going there will be consequences

If they don't learn he steps forward: "I think you should leave as long as you still have all your wits and teeth about you!" "I don't think I was talking to you, you elven bastard!" The dagger's out quicker than you can say 'knife' and at the other person's throat. "Keep talking and find out how much of a bastard I really am." Astarion's feral, red eyes almost glowing, a growl forming in his chest, barely in control of his composure by then. You softly put a hand on his arm which makes him relax only a little. "Come on, they're not worth it, Astarion. Let's just go", you say, so you guys turn around willing to leave, when... "What - not so eager to keep your promise now, bastard?" Wrong thing to say. Astarion whirls around and absolutely sucker punches the shit out of them, making them go down in a single hit while probably breaking a nose, a lip and several teeth. He licks the blood off his knuckles as he turns to you with a smirk: "Now we can go, my sweet love."

And that's how Astarion started and ended a tavern brawl with a single punch for you

Also I know that this was all pretty specific to a certain kind of situation in which he would be a protective, but I hope I could satisfy!

[transmascissues]

12 weeks post-top surgery thoughts

most importantly, i’m absolutely fucking in love with how things look! it’s still not set in stone yet, my surgeon said i won’t really see the final result until up to a year after, but I’m so happy with it already.

my surgeon’s default timeline would’ve had me starting scar tape at 4 weeks, but i still haven’t started yet because some little scabs are still hanging around even though most of my scars are completely healed. my surgeon didn’t seem concerned about it taking longer than expected, she just said everyone’s body is different. given that i have a connective tissue disorder and skin that just hates being messed with at all, i’m not surprised that it’s been slow going and i’m just happy that the rest is healing so well. i just had another post-op today and was cleared to start using scar tape because the scabbing is so minimal at this point, so i can finally move on to the next stage of healing.

i can (mostly) lift my arms now! they still can’t quite go all the way up, but i have enough of my mobility back that the only things i really struggle with are super high shelves like the ones above my fridge, and things like the washer and dryer that i have to reach really far to get into. technically, i was supposed to wait six months before raising them because that’s what my surgeon usually recommends for aesthetic purposes, but i have to be able to raise them to do my job anyway so i’m not limiting myself beyond the natural limits of discomfort at this point.

my chest muscles are mostly back to normal too, but they’re still very sensitive. when i flex them, it doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable but i am a lot more aware of the feeling than i was before. they also still tire out more easily than they used to — i’m back at work now, and i’ve learned the hard way that i tend to favor one arm over the other for certain tasks because when i do any of them for too long, i start to feel it in that side of my chest. it’s not anything too bad, but i’m still making sure my shifts are spread out because i don’t want to risk overdoing it.

i’m getting used to touching my own chest, but being touched by other people still feels super weird and honestly uncomfortable at times, particularly when it’s my bare chest and not over my shirt. i’ve been touching it a lot to try to desensitize it since around week 3 or 4, and it seems to be working as far as my own touch, but other people is a whole other story — when my boyfriend is touching my bare chest and their hand touches the scars, it doesn’t actually hurt but i react to it like it does. i suspect it’s more of a mental thing than anything, that since i’m still instinctively protective of it and not quite used to how it feels, touches that i’m not in control of just automatically set off alarm bells. it’s also just a generally foreign feeling even without the weirdness of healing because my boyfriend never really touched my chest before surgery since i was dysphoric about it, so it seems to require desensitization on multiple levels. i’ve given them permission to keep touching it even when i flinch (unless i explicitly ask them to stop) because i want to make sure i start getting used to the feeling.

i’m also still very sensitive to pressure against my chest, especially the front of it. it’s getting easier to lie down on my side now but i’m still using my body pillow to take some pressure off of the scars under my armpits, because if i don’t i usually can only stay in that position for a little while. my boyfriend can mostly lay their head on my chest for short periods of time now, but the position matters because if the weight isn’t distributed evenly enough or if it’s on the wrong part of my chest, it hurts. that being said, less intense pressure on the front like a hug or holding something to my chest is pretty much fine, i’m just still more sensitive to it (as with everything). i’ve been able to lay face down on top of my boyfriend a couple times without discomfort too, but i’m still erring on the side of caution and not laying on my chest too much yet.

when i was around a month in and thought i would be starting scar care soon, i was really nervous about it — particularly about the scar massage — because of the state my chest was in. i still didn’t feel like i could press on it or move the skin around or pick it up with my fingers at all, and the scar tissue underneath was still really thick and firm. i assumed that all of that would stay the same until i did the massages to break down the scar tissue and loosen things up, but i can now confirm after another month and a half of doing nothing while things healed, my skin is naturally a lot more mobile and a lot of that really thick scar tissue has already broken down. obviously i’m still going to start massaging now because i want to give myself the best possible chance of healing well, but i wish i had known how much my chest would be able to bounce back on its own. in hindsight, i’m glad i ended up having to wait to start the massage instead of doing it back when my chest was much less healed, because i’m much more comfortable manipulating it now.

every once in a while, i’ll get sharp pains in my chest. they aren’t horribly painful, mostly just unpleasant. they feel a lot like the nerve zaps i was getting earlier in recovery so it might be another round of nerves reconnecting, but it also happens more often when i’m working so it’s hard to say if it’s nerves or over-exertion. either way, i always make sure to take it easy when i start to feel that, just in case it is a sign of me doing too much.

i typically almost never eat meat, but i chose to reintroduce it into my diet after surgery to get more protein, because i wanted to make sure my body had everything it needs to heal and protein is a huge part of that. now that i’m pretty much all healed skin-wise and just waiting for everything to settle, i’ve decided it’s time to go back to my usual diet of not-fully-vegetarian-but-pretty-damn-close. i’m sure the diet change wasn’t strictly necessary but i don’t regret doing it, though i am glad to be switching back now.

putting on shirts still hasn’t gotten old. seeing how they look over a flat chest honestly feels surreal, but in the best way. hugging people and being able to press all the way into it js also still such a great feeling. i’m far enough in now that i can do all of that stuff without worrying about it, but still early enough that it all feels really new and special, and i’ve been thoroughly enjoying that.

wearing a more genderfucky outfit out in public for the first time post-op was a fucking blast. my boyfriend and i went to a new year’s eve party, and getting to show off my chest through a sheer lace top and my facial hair alongside makeup was so much fun. it was the first time i’ve been able to go all out without the lingering feeling in the back of my mind that dressing up means inevitably being seen as a woman. i definitely didn’t look like a cis man to any of the people who saw me, but they could clearly tell i wasn’t a cis woman at the very least, and knowing that made me so much more confident.

i’m far enough away now from being in the trenches of early recovery that the reality of the fact that i got such a big surgery has started to fade. when i really think about the fact that my body went through all of that and about how hard early recovery was, it doesn’t quite feel real anymore. i’m starting to reach the point one of my friends told me about, where my chest being like this feels so normal that it’s just like “yeah, of course, it’s always been like this, right?” it’s wild, really, the difference a couple months can make — it wasn’t that long ago that i was exhausted and arguably depressed from the early recovery process, and now it all feels so normal that i have to remind myself it took all of that to get here. i never really doubted that it would be worth it in the end, but i’m still more sure of that now than i ever have been.

the last couple months have been a long road, but somehow they’ve also flown by. it’s given me so much appreciation for my body — its potential to transform and what it’s been able to withstand. i wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Movie Nights Headcanons With BF!Dean

✨ Dean Winchester x fellowhunter!Reader ✨

Minors! Get out of here! Please and thank you!

COOOOONTENT: definitely 18+ (a tiddly bit of spice) but very cute

A/N: reader’s supposed to be cis/fem BUUUT headcanons only mention “girl” a few times? I’m working on my spicy gender neutral skills I’ll get there I swear

Oh also!!! I made my own icons, super proud 😌

And please! Feel free to leave notes! They literally make my day!

Anyway, let’s get this party started!

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

-movie nights at the bunker are few and far between, because, you know, hunting is exhausting

-however, when they do happen, they’re the best thing in the whole wide world

-let me explain

-once you started dating Dean and moved into the bunker, some changes had to be made

-you had gotten a cute sofa for the Dean cave, somewhere for the both of you to sit because all that had been in there before you moved in was two dingy chairs

-at first Dean had protested in the sofa saying that it was “too girly”

-but you know how dads are with the pet that they never wanted??

-that’s Dean and the sofa

-so once you guys get comfy with your favorite snacks and drinks, you snuggled up sitting crisscross in the corner

-he’ll lay with his head in your lap, letting his bow legs rest on the opposite arm rest.

-he really loves laying on your thighs. This can be taken as you want it to.

-they really are his favorite pillows

-they’re just so squishyyy

-anyway

-he loves when you play with his short hair. It’s really comforting to him, and he really enjoys it

-this may or may not come from his love of you pulling it when he’s being a munch

-rom coms are his guilty pleasure. He’s a sucker for Rambo and Top Gun. Also Back To The Future. Ofc he likes his horror movies too. Won’t make you watch anything you are uncomfortable with.

-might try to grumble when you pick, but if you give him some puppy dog eyes he’ll shut up real quick

-he’s sugar sweet when he’s sleepy. No more defenses or cool guy wit, just Dean saying a lot of I love yous and being the fluffiest biggest stuffed animal of a man

-tends to fall asleep in your lap

-if he doesn’t fall asleep he’s always chatting with you about literally whatever shows up in his pretty little head or talking to the movie

-“who fumbles reese witherspoon?” said with full indignation (about legally blonde)

-“I think my man Freddie is blind” (about Lainey in she’s all that)

-it’s super cute, especially if it’s after he’s grumbled about watching the movie he’s commenting about

-now (nsfw ahead)

-the thing is

-sometimes this dude wants to watch a movie, but he also wants a specific kind of snack

-yk, one that’s typically… white and sticky? And no I’m not talking about sticky rice

-so if you’re wearing only one of his shirts and your underwear

-and he’s in a mood

-uhhh let’s just say he really gets the munchies

-his legs’ll fall off of the sofa and magically his ass’ll land on top of them

-and oh em gee suddenly he’ll be eating that pussy like he didn’t just take down a whole bowl of popcorn

-and let me tell you, your hands aren’t ever gonna even bother leaving that hair, cause you’re gonna need to hooooold tight

-other times it’s a little different

-maybe you’re being needy while you both want to watch the movie

-so he’ll sit up, take down his pants just a little bit, move your underwear to the side and just sit you there. Keeping his cock nice and warm until the credits.

-cause you wouldn’t wanna be a bad girl (cue jojo siwa) and move on him!

-but sometimes you just can’t help it…

-so he’ll sigh heavily and pause the tv lethargically with great dramatics

-and then he’ll rail you within an inch of your life, as he does (has to make sure his girl is sated and then some 🖤 🎀)

-and hit play like nothing happened, keeping you sat right where you were

-honestly it’s a great time

-oh, also, blankets

-he loves blankets

-it’s his guilty pleasure, he buys them whenever he has some extra (stolen) cash and isn’t with his brother or Cas

-cause obviously they can’t know about his “girly” habits

-but he has so many. Some of them have flannel prints, there’s one with a bunch of Patrick Swayzes, one for every season, fluffy ones, scratchy ones, hand crocheted ones (major brownie points if you can somehow make him one)

-oh and back to snacks

-listen. You can tell him all about how much of a good idea it would be to eat healthy. Bring up all the stats and one of Sam’s famous guilt trips too.

-but all it takes is a pout with those sparkly, gorgeous, mountain-ass green eyes

-and all of a sudden you’re baking brownies together, just because you actually have a second to do normal couple things

-and anyway, brownie batter kisses?? Worth it.

-oh

-and it’s not just movies, sometimes it’s shows

-and I mention this because sometimes those shows are the wiggles. And you know why they’re the wiggles? Cause you two’ll sometimes sneak just a little bit of fun time grass into the brownies

-and the wiggles is just too much fun to watch when you’re uh… seeing sounds and hearing colors

-oh and also giggly high fun time sometimes ensues (WITH THE WIGGLES TURNED O F F you are NOT that blasphemous) (I hope)

-another one of the shows you get him to watch is Gilmore girls.

-he got hooked for three reasons:

1. he loves Luke (and no we don’t know if he loves him or LOVES him) oh and Kirk. He wants to be best friends with Kirk.

2. he’s a sucker for fall vibes. Including pumpkin spice and Halloween, apple cider and ofc his flannels- so naturally stars hollow visually floats his boat

3. he thinks it’s hilarious that some dude named Dean looks exactly like Sam ( 😏)

-oh and bonus- he’s really just a messy bitch who loves the drama and wants Lorelei to be happy

-ofc you two don’t watch your shows as much, movies take priority, but when you do you binge them. Cause who knows when the next time you’ll have time to see them is

-stupid supernatural warfare

-oh and he will always convince you to make a pie with him (NOT the sexual kind) (…sometimes the sexual kind) (🤤)

-sometimes you’ll host family movie nights, have Sam and Charlie and Cas and whoever else is hanging out around the bunker come

-most of the time a movie doesn’t even get chosen but that’s okay cause it’s still fun

-anyway, Dean is a cutie patootie sweetie sugar pie

-oh, and a munch

-I rest my case

-yeah that’s basically it

If you have any ideas for headcanons, send a request! My box is always open!

Xx

[sweetsuo]

as per usual, I wrote WAY MORE than was necessary cries. Sakura may be a bit ooc but i was trying to be consistent with the concept of him getting used to affection over time ;v; also color coded speech bc i wanted to try it out

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲

Suo Hayato x Sakura Haruka x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! For the love of all that is mighty do not take this as actual psychological advice or a viable treatment for you! More of this disclaimer and information is after the fic.

cw. exposure therapy. systematic desensitization. cucking. fingering. edging. masturbation. use of 'she/her'. praise. pussy smacking. friendly competition. hair pulling. Genre & Syn. [ SMUT! ] Your boyfriend Sakura has always been shy and easily embaressed. You help the best you can until you're at the very last rungs of the desensitization ladder. Your bashful boyfriend offers that Suo help with the last demonstrations. wc. 7.2k thank you to zevie, dahlie, and adele who all beta'd this bitch for me!!!

Sakura’s sense of responsibility was always something you admired. He’d always been a natural leader, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He’d come a long way in Furin since he first arrived as a teen, and now even lead municipal patrol programs on his own while Umemiya handled teaching the next generation at the reform school. You had a crush on him ever since you met him as a server at Kotoha’s cafe. So after a long road to romance, you both finally got together once you were in your twenties. There was just one problem with your devoted boyfriend. 

Sakura always had such a volatile reaction to intimacy. Holding your hand and giving compliments were few and far between simply because he’d blow up red whenever he even attempted to. You thought it was charming, but it is impossible not to have some sort of strain on the relationship in a circumstance like this. You want cuddles! Affection! You know Sakura has the potential to give it and that he desperately does. He just needs a little help. So you research exposure therapy and come across something called ‘systematic desensitization’. Your boyfriend agreed to this without a second thought. He’d do anything for you and he knew he had to grow past his aversion to affection. 

After work, you talk with Sakura about intimacy and ask him if he’d be comfortable trying this out. You just wanted to try it out casually as Sakura was never afraid of intimacy, just uncomfortable by it. So first you both practice meditation and breathing techniques to calm down his heart and head. 

Then you compile a list of exposures. Thinking about intimacy, watching intimacy, engaging in intimacy. You ask about different types of intimacy to see which ones he is most comfortable with to least comfortable with. You set a strict rule with him that you both are to not engage in intimate acts until everything was done and good with. It’s hard to keep. You don’t compliment one another nor do you touch. Luckily, holding hands and minor touches like on the back or arm he is perfectly fine with at this point so that was alright to engage with. It was a trial in your will power!

After about two months, you got through most of the list without a hitch step by step. Anytime Sakura was uncomfortable, he’d breathe deeply and slowly and try to focus on sounds around him as opposed to his internal dialogue. Pride overwhelmed you when he could engage in those acts with you without panicking! It also was a cute little game to see at what points he started to breathe slow to calm down. It added to his charms. 

It wasn’t until you got to things like kissing that you hit a bump in the road. You separated witnessing acts versus engaging in them versus seeing them through a screen. PDA like kissing is not super common out in public unlike holding hands, complimenting someone, or just being appreciative of someone. That’s when Sakura offered something unusual. 

In a mutter, the calico asked, “Why not ask Suo?” He shifted on your couch, arm draped over your shoulder and leg crossed. 

“Huh?”

“Don’t make me say it twice! Just. Text’im or somethin’...” His cheeks were red and you could tell he was focusing on his breathing by the rise and fall of his chest. The thought of you kissing his friend riled him up in a way he didn’t expect. He wasn’t anxious or uncomfortable by it. It was late so you weren’t even sure if Suo would be up. Then again, the martial artist did seem to have an odd sleep schedule. 

“Think he’s still at work?” You asked aloud, not really expecting an answer. It was about 11:00 at night now as you sent the first message.

“Nah. Pretty sure he gets done at 8.” Sakura tilted his head back, emptying his mind and counting the sounds in your apartment. His chest fizzed and bubbled. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt different from when he’d see PDA in the past. He retracted inside his mind, searching for where he recognized this pop-rock sensation. He already could tell he’d felt it before as you both moved through the ladders of exposure. Usually by the time he’d grown accustomed to something, he thought about you in that very act. That’s typically when the hot pink crackling began. 

That’s when it hit him. 

Porn.

Because romance movies had such an onslaught of different displays of affection, you had to go through multiple rungs at the same time. Once you could watch some cheesy chick flicks together, you had offered to watch porn. It wasn’t awkward because it was you. And of course, the first few times Sakura had to stop to take a walk. The lewd moans from your laptop being a bit too much for him to handle at first. Eventually he could sit through an entire clip with self-soothing techniques. He’d realized then that he’d be doing this with you. To you. The thought of touching your bare skin was tantalizing. And his chest bubbled all in the same way when he thought about you kissing Suo. 

Sakura let out a slow breath. 

“Oh! He responded!” You jolt, curling over your screen. Sakura peered over you, attempting to read upside down. The light of your phone illuminated your pretty cheeks in the dark of the living room. Even with the TV flickering colors, Sakura could see the tinge of pink. 

“What’d he say?” 

“Well, I gave him my address and he said he’d be right over...” Your voice trembled and your lips rolled together. 

The calico leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His cheeks flushed at the act, but he’d grown somewhat accustomed to physical touch enough for him not to freak. “You don’t have to... ya know –“ He cleared his throat, “do any of that if you don’t want. Jus’ figured it’d be easier.” His voice is low and soft despite that obvious falter at the mention of an act. Sakura had always been such a sweet boyfriend. He cared more about you than he could even say. He wouldn’t have ever agreed to your little experimental scheme if he didn’t want to do better for you in the first place! So if anything made you uncomfortable, he’d be sure to fix it. Even if that meant sucker punching Suo. 

“No, no. Ah. I don’t know how to explain this,” You chuckled awkwardly, “But w-would it be bad to say it’s a turn on?” 

“A what?” 

Oh he was dumbfounded. Gob-smacked, even. 

You dropped your phone in your lap and pressed pretty digits against your warm cheeks, “You know in that one porn we saw with the girl who had the-“

“The flower on her h-hip?” Sakura completed your sentence, hand now coming up to his neck. 

“YEAH! How’d you know?!” You leaned into him, “I can’t believe you paid attention to that! I mean I can because you’re trying so hard!”

He flushed, searching for words amidst your excitement only to stutter, “I-it was hot.” 

The porn in question was a woman cucking her partner with another guy. It was a random video you clicked on at the time, but you were sucked in. It was hard to ignore the growing sensation between your legs when you watched. You were so enamored that you completely missed the hard-on your boyfriend sported while watching. Or that he masturbated to the sounds of your moans while you showered shortly after. 

“Do you think Suo would-“ You trailed off, considering the comfort of your boyfriend and his progress with sensitization. 

“He would,” Sakura muttered again, “Don’ worry ‘bout it.” He averted his eyes, sucked in air, then let it out in a stream, “We can ask. I’m good with it.” His romance detector might be over-reactive, but it almost was never wrong. He knew Suo had a thing for you from the way Suo teased you. Once in a while you’d take one of Suo’s MMA classes and he’d tease you about your form. Or sometimes the three of you would take Jou’s judo class. It was hard to miss the way Suo looked at you when you were pinned under him. It never quite irritated Sakura because he knew you were his and he’s known Suo was a good guy since high school. Plus, he actually didn’t mind watching someone more skilled than himself handling you in ways he didn’t know how to yet. Since then, Sakura knew he could spar a little more roughly with you. 

There was a knock at the door. You hopped up and down the hall to greet your guest. 

Sakura shifted his posture to sit upright, head tilted down, and hands folded at his lap. He breathed in and out. In. and out. He wasn’t nervous, surprisingly. He was excited. His body twitched at the chit-chat approached the hall. He didn’t think about the words, just took note of the sounds around him. Calm. Nothin’ to be nervous about. When weight shifted on the couch, he opened his eyes to Suo politely sat a cushion away. 

“You called a good teacher, Sakura.” Suo grinned, “Education is the best way to grow beyond nervousness~. We’re kissing, correct?”

You and Sakura sported matching blushes. You part your lips to answer. Sakura beats you to the punch, “The whole th-thing. If you want.” His brows are furrowed and his eyes shone with conviction you hadn’t quite seen yet.

Suo’s lips formed an ‘0’ before they settled into a wide grin, “You want to be cucked? That’s surprising!” There was no judgement in the words, simply a question. A teasing question, but still just a question. 

“Jus’ show me what to do,” Sakura whipped his head to the side in an attempt to hide the raging red raising to his ears. He pouted. Can’t deny something that’s true, though. Can’t deny the way his body reacted, either, with his jeans growing ever so slightly tighter. 

Meanwhile, you glanced between the two, sucking at your bottom lip nervously. You stood between them, fiddling the hem of Sakura’s T-shirt. It was big on you. Big enough to reach mid-thigh. It was thin as well. The fabric loosely folding at the pique of your nipples. Everything felt bare and real. Their exchange, this situation, it all was tangible now. Your own inexperience and insecurities had been helped as a byproduct of helping Sakura. You mimicked his steady, meditative techniques. 

“Are you comfortable with this, dear?” Suo’s gentle words drew you back to reality, “You seem like the nervous one, now.” He laughed musically. It broke the tension. 

Sakura’s hand covered yours, brows curving in concern, “If I kick his ass would that make you feel better?” 

You snort, holding back your own laughter. He was so sincere! “I’m okay. Just nervous. I uh... don’t have much experience myself. Missionary basically.”

“Oh my! I hope the foreplay was good,” Suo exclaimed. As soon as you grimaced, he understood, “Ah. None?” You shook your head. The auburn tutor let out a shoulder-slumped sigh, “Men can be so disappointing.” He gestured for you to step in front of him, your legs standing beside either of his. He leaned forward so that his hands could graze the sides of your thighs. Their touch gentle yet electric as they caressed up and then down. In one feel movement, he hooked his hands behind your knees and pulled you to a straddle onto his lap. Heat circled the shell of your ear as Suo whispered to you, “I’ll teach him right.” The corners of his lips curled mischievously, loving the way your pretty lashes widened. 

“We’ll start with the kiss.” Suo peered to Sakura, reading his reactions and posture for any objections. Sakura’s chest rose and fell in semi-controlled, audible heaves. His hands pressed onto his thighs, denim imprinting against Sakura’s palms. Pupils were dilated. Perfect. Suo now shifted his gaze to you. You, who had caught his attention from the very beginning. 

You had been friends with them since high school and left with sorrowful goodbyes for university. When you came back more beautiful than when you had left, Suo sorely regretted letting Sakura shoot his shot first. He was happy for his friend. You were a catch! And quite frankly, you were suited for one another. No other person would be as patient as you with Sakura’s intimacy issues. Sakura loved you for it, too. Everyone saw it and knew it. However. Every time you came to Suo, tears in your eyes over the lack of physical touch and words of love, he saw red. 

Suo thumbed over your lower lip, sticky with gloss. He brought it to his own lips, licking up the flavor. Mint. Divine favor of the God’s, was it? Surely, he was blessed with this opportunity tonight. He hummed contently upon the realization that you’d been staring. Just to give you a show, he licked his lips. When your thighs reflexively squeezed his, he chuckled. 

“Hand placement is important. You have to be observant of their reactions,” Suo’s hands first rested on your thighs. As they worked up, you felt an anticipatory roll in your stomach. They reached the crease of your hip, giving a gentle squeeze at the plush roll of flesh. The muscle of your thighs flex, resisting a grind at his touch. Hoping he wouldn’t notice was wishful thinking. He picked it up immediately. “Did you see that?” The tutor’s gaze didn’t leave your body and neither did your boyfriend’s, “That’s a good sign. Try it. Just like this –“ Suo gestured for Sakura to come closer, which he obliged. He took Sakura’s hand and placed it at the same spot. His thumb pressed into the crease of your thigh and hip while his digits squeezed the fat of your side. Your practically purred. Suo’s hand at your right and Sakura’s at your left. Both feeling the way your muscle restricted your naturally desired movement. 

“Oh.” Sakura exhaled, practically breathless from this interaction alone. Suo narrowed his eyes, amused at both of the reactions he elicited. 

“Then put your hand here –“ Suo guided Sakura’s hand to the back of your head, “Keep it there. A hand here is intimate if you enjoy eye contact.” He takes the hand guiding Sakura’s away and takes your chin between his thumb and index. His grip is strong, but not forceful as he tugs your head down. A suggestion to meet his gaze. When you do, you’re locked in. His eyes are warm and darkened honey, catching you like a fly in the half-lidded gaze. 

Sakura was enraptured. Suo didn’t even need to ask this time. Sakura saw it all. The shift in your posture and reaction of your body to their touches burned into his memory. You were a perfected movie reel played in slow motion across his mind. Heat singed his cheeks, digits, and most importantly, his lower abdomen. Maybe it was Suo’s subtle antagonism – how he’d slip a challenging glance to Sakura, that washed away some of Sakura’s bashfulness. He’d always be able to show face for a fight.  A gear had clicked into place. This was like a fight. A style to communicate and Suo was fluent. 

“Now you kiss.” Suo pulled you into him by the jaw, opposite hand gripping your hip. Your lips met, exchanging heat and gloss. Sakura weaved his fingers into the hairs at the nape of your neck. Reflexively, his fingers curled into a secure tug against Suo’s pull. You mewl, mouth opening as your head tilts back with the pull. Your whole body quivers. 

“Shit! S-sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pull.“ The calico panicked, grip loosening. 

Suo moved his hand to lay on top of Sakura’s. To reinforce good form, the tutor curled the student’s fingers firm at the scalp, “She liked it. Didn’t you see?” And then he pulled.

You mouth opens in a moan. Always the opportunist, the fox juts in to slip his tongue past those pretty open lips.  He makes a point to invite the sleek muscle in your mouth to dance in the open. Hand at your chin now along your whole jaw, opening it for Sakura’s view. Saliva dribbles from the writhing dance onto the loaned shirt. Sakura’s glued to the slippery strand dribbling down and the way your lip-gloss glistened, smudged between your lips and Suo’s. Words dangle in his mind about your reactions. He gives a shy, tug to your hair now. It’s gentle, light, practically a tickle compared to the accidental first. 

You break contact with Suo with a giggle, “You can tug harder, I won’t break.” 

“Aren’t you brave~” Suo coos. His hand snaked up to your hair next to Sakura’s and with a firm tug, you’re a whimpering mess with your neck exposed.

Sakura’s heart lurched into his throat. For only a moment, fight or flight had kicked in. He released your hair from his grasp so that he could do a full scan. Suo wouldn’t do anything to legitimately hurt you. Rationally he knew that, but this was all so new. It wasn’t until he saw your hips sway with mindless need that it registered to him. You liked this. Sakura decided that he’d sit back and learn as a natural progression. 

Suo noticed the shift. It was hard not to considering that Sakura leaned back onto the arm of the couch, eyes fully on you. The teacher was now a performer on a stage and you were his lovely assistant. 

Hand in your hair tugs your head to the side, further exposing the smooth skin at your neck. He leans up so that your hands grip the fabric at his shoulders shakily. The wet tip of his tongue traces the lines at your throat. The position, the tilt of your head, everything was for Sakura’s perfect viewing. The calico could see every line of saliva made, illuminated by the flickering of the television. Your whimpers and whines, the way your body rolled against Suo’s every touch only reinforcing the act more. 

Maybe it was shameless of Sakura. Maybe your desensitization had worked some kind of wonder. Either way, Sakura was fully enraptured by the movement of your body. Any prior urge to look away or feel shy or ashamed had been washed away by the angelic sounds you made. Having a front row seat to your pleasure, seeing every reaction you made only made Sakura crave to see more. The bubbling fizz at the pit of his stomach flourished and without really thinking about it, Sakura began to unbuckle his belt. 

From the corner of your lust-lidded lashes, you peered hungrily at Sakura’s shivering fingers. Walls cinched on nothing but the thought of his arousal. You squirmed on the lap your straddled, uncaring of your previous attempts to look strong and controlled. 

“Is someone excited?” Suo teased as he followed your line of sight. Words rumbled off the curve of your jaw, eliciting another pitiful plea for satisfaction. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dripping himself. You were so desperate to move forward, and Sakura was so desperate to watch. Their teacher and performer was more than willing to oblige. 

“Let’s take this shirt off, dear.” 

“Mhm,” You agree shyly. You take the hem of the shirt and begin to tug, but as you do, Suo’s hands grip your waist. He raised his hips and pulled you into a grind along the hardened shaft of his cock, hidden under trousers. You suck in air and flex your core to steady yourself as your legs and walls tremble. The act overrode your prior command, arms loosely resting on your head as the fabric of Sakura’s shirt hangs from your fingers. 

“Oh? I don’t think I said stop taking the shirt off. Did I Sakura?” Suo’s kind, cruel smile faces your boyfriend, allowing his input. He was helping, directing Sakura to play an active role in your satisfaction if he was just going to sit back and watch. 

Sakura all the while had his belt slipped off, jeans had been discarded onto the coffee table. The dampened circle of pre saturating the cotton front of his boxer briefs did nothing to hide the imprint of the thick shaft twitching against fabric. Suo didn’t show a reaction to it, but Sakura was well endowed to say the least. Your boyfriend groans, impatient for the next act to happen, impatient to learn how to better communicate with your body. “Don’ think so.” He responded simply, the gruff and awkward response has your shivering. 

You hurried now to yank the shirt off and toss it aside. Where it landed didn’t matter. Your arms cross over your chest as a sudden flurry of embarrassment overwhelms you. 

“T-take a deep breath, babe.” Sakura’s voice is now louder than the trash TV host in the background. You meet eyes, his desire to see you pleased overwriting his own carnal urges. The calico near choked on his spit when you shine a radiant smile to him in pride. You can’t help but feel proud now that he wished to coax you out of your own comfort. He leads and you imitate the pace of his deep breathing. Suo all the while takes your forearms, softly pulling them away from the bosom he so desired. 

Suo’s hands fall back to your waist. His mouth explores the curve of your breast as they rise and fall with each cycle. He’d work within the calming routine that you and Sakura had developed, moving his teeth and tongue slow to your pace. The nips of his front teeth causing your tempered exhales to turn to shudders. He guides you to a rhythmic grind. Each movement churning your shudders into pitchy pants. 

Sakura, who had been taking mental notes of each action that cause your reactions, now perked at the writhing of bodies. Inadvertently, he had synced his breathing to yours and in effect, vicariously poised himself in Suo’s spot. His own hips rocked with the air subtly and subconsciously. You were so gorgeous as you leaned back on display. Sakura practically could feel the twitch of your fingers on his knees as they did on Suo’s, desperate for steady contact. Sakura’s own tongue twitched as Suo’s circled your perfectly perked nipple. He wondered how much self-control Suo had to not just undress and fuck you like that. 

“Fuck. You’re so hot, baby.” Sakura’s hand reached for the hem of his boxers. 

Suo clicked his tongue in the way one does to scold a dog, “Sakura, I thought I was the teacher here? Shouldn’t you be paying attention to her?” He halted all movement, barely breathless while you heaved and greedily ground on him for more, “Pause, my dear.” You were broken from your own world, pouting at the man who commanded you to stop. Not that the command registered as serious. Defiantly, you tried to wriggle, but the clasp around your waist prevented further movement. “You both are needy little things, hm?” Suo smiled so very sweetly to you, “I said pause. Now be a good girl and try to stay quiet while I teach, alright?” 

The slick between your thighs drooled at the saccharine command. It had subtle authority behind it, numbing your mind to be pliable to his will. You hummed with a nod in response. He made note to reward your good behavior later. Reinforcement was important, after all. 

Suo’s smile now curled into something Cheshire, “Let’s move onto the next lesson.” He shifted, practically lifting you by your waist to a stand in front. Sakura listened, but his eyes traced the trail of wet lines down your thighs. His fingers gripped at the cushion – his own tempered restraint.

“Sakura,” He began, fingers working to remove his slacks, “Before you please yourself, you should be more imaginative with your lover.” Once the slacks were off, he began to unbutton his shirt. “Women more easily orgasm multiple times,” The shirt fell to the crease of the cushions, “so her cumming on your fingers first,” Suo cupped the silk-covered lips between your thighs, the pad of his middle finger pressing onto your throbbing hole. His cock jerked in response, yet he ignored it – leading by example. “Or cumming on your tongue first-” Suo licked a stripe from the line of your panties to your naval, “won’t deter her from cumming on your cock.” From below, his caramel gaze softened on you before another friendly challenge was poised to his student, “I can’t imagine a virgin like yourself lasting too long, so do what you can for her first before you’re spent. Otherwise, it might be someone else satisfying her desires.”

With subtle circles of his middle finger, he massaged you, testing how quiet you could be. Just because he gave a command didn’t mean he’d try for your disobedience. It was natural for him to play with his food before he ate it and you were a luxury dish he’d been waiting years to be seated at. His starved gaze feasted on your frame. Sakura had such a lovely, obedient girl. He wished you could be his to nibble on day in and day out. Jealousy wasn’t exactly the word for what Suo felt. He was happy for Sakura. But maybe... Sakura would let him dine on you while he learned which fork to use for what. Learning curves could take some time and it would be such a shame for you to run cold. 

“Then stop yappin’ and show me,” Sakura practically growled the words. He was willing to learn. He wanted to learn. He’d put all the work in to get to this point and he desperately wanted to see it through – see you through. Suo’s jabs felt no different from a spar. It was exciting to see who would please you best. Obviously Suo had the upper hand now, but later? In a month? Two months? He’d treat you so good that you wouldn’t be able to see straight.

Suo laughed like chimes at his friend’s fervor, “Let’s all get more comfortable, then. Take the boxers off.” While Sakura followed instruction, Suo hooked the crotch of your panties to pull them down. The knuckle of his index purposefully nuzzled across your clit as he did so. Your knees wobbled and your restrained voice broke free, but you stayed steady standing. Suo then took his own boxers off. 

Your shadow obscured his length from your vision, while Sakura’s laid bare in the light of the white static snow. Your tongue slides across your lips at the precum dribbles down the underbelly. He was a lot girthier than you initially thought he'd be, but you were certain you could lick him up and down all the same. Regardless of your fixation, your tutor had other plans. 

Suo shifted on the couch to sit upright. His back rested against the left arm and his right leg bent and propped against the back of it. He faced Sakura and Sakura shifted to mirror his posture on the opposite end. Suo tugged on your writs, “Put your back to my chest, dear.” And so you did. With his guiding hands along the outer sides of your hips, Suo positioned you how he pleased. Your head rested along his pecks, his steady heart beat loud and thumping. The mystery of his size resolved as his cock imprinted into the crease of your glutes, tip leaking pre at the base of your spine. His body was hot against yours. Against your back you could feel how tense his core was. He was restraining himself from moving while making it look natural. Your pussy throbbed at the idea of it – how he wanted to fuck you so bad but wouldn’t just yet. He was a gentleman. 

Drunk on the concept alone, you sway your hips against him, lascivious gaze watching for when he might break. In one short moment, Suo had your limbs restricted. Your right leg, which had been resting against his at the back of the couch, was now held up by the underside of your knee and against your chest. Your left leg was constricted by his and dangled over the edge of the couch. Suo’s left hand cupped, then smacked firmly onto your cunt. The sound sticky and loud over the TV static. He pressed his fingers onto you to sooth the sting. You cried out in both pleasure and pain only to be shushed. 

“You weren’t quiet the whole way through when standing~. Punishing disobedience is also the job of a teacher,” Suo’s voice bounced in delight at your pouting lip, “Did you think I forgot?” You shook your head. “Good girl. Now, be a good doll for a moment while Sakura explores” You nod, eyes wide on Sakura. 

Your breathing mimicked his naturally. The gentle ‘shhhh’ as he breathed out between his teeth. He relaxed his jaw as to not clench it. His shoulders wound back to release the tension there, too. Your smile inviting him over. You kept your hands to yourself, but pat the inside of your thighs to signal for him to come to you. Sakura in that moment thought of you more like seafoam. He feared that if he touched you the wrong way, you’d fizzle out beneath his grasp. Never-the-less, he knelt before you, taking up the cushion space between Suo and your legs. 

Suo nodded approvingly. The hand cupped over your sex moved up. He gave an overview of the parts on the off chance Sakura’s sex education had been lack luster, fingers grazing at each as he spoke. Your rested the back of your head onto his chest and closed your eyes. His voice so close to your ear and delicate touches along the labia majora and minora relaxing you. 

“I implore you to touch for yourself,” Suo chirped, hand now moving to trace shapes on your stomach. 

“S-sure,” Sakura stammered. He pet the trimmed pubic hair, tracing the shape of your labia gently and carefully. The slick that stuck to the curled hairs had him swallowing saliva hard. The veins of his cock pulsed, drawing out precum to drool onto your folds. “You’re so damn p-perfect.” You opened your eyes to look up to wonder-filled irises. He looked as if he’d found the garden of Eden. If you hadn’t been told to be quite, you’d thank him, but seeing you like this was thanks enough to your loving boyfriend. 

“Past this,” Suo interrupted, “is the clit.” His index and ring finger separated your lips, reveal the apple beneath. In anticipation, it pulsed and you bucked. Both men huffed a single laugh in response. Suo in satisfaction and Sakura in admiration. Suo’s middle finger pulled at the hood to reveal the plump nerve. “You have to be gentle with it at first. Too much stimulation and she might not enjoy it. Some people do, though.” He rose his fingers to your mouth and watched as you welcomed them into your maw. Tongue lapped at the digits, hungrily accepting whatever it could. “Oh? Someone has a fixation~ How cute!” Suo teased, swirling his index around your tongue. 

“Mmm,” You respond, eyes trailing the saliva strand that connected you both as his fingers left your lips. At your back was a thick, heavy throb. You wondered how he kept such composure at times like this. He always had a level head. Meanwhile you were swimming in sweet arousal. 

Suo took newly sodden digits to your clit, the tip of his index finger tracing circles around the bud but not yet on it. Your back arcs and a loud whine reverberates in your throat. 

Sakura swallows, bristling at the sounds you made. His hand hovers above you, uncertain about what to do next. Suo chuckles deeply, jostling you against his chest. The fox spreads you open, index and middle finger running down and around your entrance before coming back together to tease over the sensitive maw and bud. You crane into the touch, pitiful in your attempts to get them in. Your walls shiver with every rotation. He’s such a cruel tease! Suo is slow, deliberate, repeating the same motion. Your whines grow in volume and pitch until you’re practically on the verge of tears. 

Your boyfriend tilts his head, mind switching gears. A hand cups your cheek and his focused eyes hone right onto yours, “Breathe, baby. Everythin’s okay. Ya look so fuckin’ perfect  right now, too.” His voice is low, husky, mixed with both sympathy and hot honied lust. His praise urged you on. You gifted him your loveliest smile in return. 

“Check if she’s ready, Sakura~.” Suo instructs, “Gently work a finger in and tell me what you feel.“ His lips rest at the shell of your ear and then he presses a kiss to your temple, muttering just for you to hear, “You’re doing so well, my dear. If he says you’re ready, do you want me to fuck you?” The question was innocuous. You shiver, mind melting away to an unfamiliar space. Dazed, you peer up to him then to Sakura. You nodded, teeth gnawing at your lower lip. Suo stops his caresses, the pads of his fingers resting and pressing into your clit. There was no rub or stroke. It was curious, but the purpose was soon discovered.

Sakura mimicked his teacher, pressing two fingers past your lips. He held his breath, hips swaying to rut into air as your tongue and lips worked his digits. His composure was shot, face aflame and muscles trembling. 

Suo cleared his throat, garnering Sakura’s attention and snapping him back to reality. Right. Attention on you. Another deep breath. His fingers retreat from one maw to the other. He paws at you so delicately at first, uncertain but determined to draw out the same moans as his teacher. At first his pam is down. It’s uncomfortable at first and you scrunch your nose. 

“Palm up,” Suo corrects quickly, noticing your expression, “About two knuckles in and you’ll feel it.” 

When you look up to him, his half-patched gaze is glued to your pussy. His cock pulsates against your ass, body still as tense as it was before. If he even let loose a bit, he’d lose it all. He’s resisting so much. 

Sakura’s obedient shift in position has you gasping. He’s pawing into you and against you gummy wall. Sakura didn’t question what he should be feeling. He felt it as soon as he worked his way into you, just as teacher taught, “Sh-she’s-“ he swallows hard, “drippin’.” 

You press your back into Suo, desperately trying to work your hips to ride Sakura’s calloused hand. Years of hard community work, fighting, and building paying off in the form of  the textured drawl of his digit. 

“Tsk, tsk, not yet.” Suo grips at your waist, his legs pressing against yours to keep you still in their spread. Sakura had stopped his strokes, thick finger left motionless inside you. You whine and pout and throw your head to the side. A laugh came from behind you, “You can keep going, Sakura. She’s being good now. If she tries to fuck your hand again, just stop until she’s still.”

You huff, frustrated. 

Both men shared a look, silently in agreeance to continue. The calico learns through your reactions what strokes work you best. Actually, the reactions of your pussy herself rattles him to the core. She quivers and quakes when he strokes you right, gently prodding the sponge-like tissue inside. You cry out, every fiber of your being trying to keep your body steady. 

If you faltered, Suo held you firm. Suo moved one hand back to press at your clit. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was a pressure to work with Sakura’s quickening pace. Each stroke against your inner wall striking like a lighter while the press against your nerve sparked with kerosine.  You’re moans grew into loud cries. Without the ability to work against Sakura yourself, all of your energy went to your lungs. The neighbors would be bitching in the morning, for sure. 

The violent pull of your muscles was more than you could control as you sprinted toward the edge of the cliff, ready to dive for sweet release. You held your breath, body still writhing as your lower back arched with all its might. Just as you were about to jump – Suo ripped Sakura’s wrist away.

“F-fuck! Why?! No, no, no, no, put it back please! Please? More?” You crane your neck to plead with him, gasps and trembling body pointed to the wrong-doer. 

“What’s the fun in that?” Suo teased with a triumphant grin, “I said it’s easier for women to have multiple orgasms. That doesn’t mean there aren’t alternatives.” 

You pout petulantly, “Please Suo? Sakura? I-I-” 

Just as tears squeezed from the corners of your eyes, Suo lifted you by your thighs. “Since you asked so sweetly,” He angled your trembling frame until you were poised against the absolutely soaked head of his cock, “You wanted me to fuck you, did you not?” His chest began to rise and fall in quickening pace. Your pleaded left him like crackling class, “What if I wanted to feel you cum around me, darling? I’ve been so patient.” He kissed away the tears and turned his attention to Sakura, “Watch and learn, dear student.”

Sakura leaned back, eyes wide at all that transpired. His throat was dry. Yeah. Yeah. He wanted that. It hit him hard, but in that very moment, Sakura realized that he’d never be able to get you to beg and pant and cry like that by himself the first go around. His shy ass would have done everything you wanted and more. He would have gotten you there. He wasgetting you there. But shit, did you look so stunning when you begged. He covered his mouth with his free hand. He leaned into the opposite arm, giving his close friend enough room to fuck his girlfriend how you deserved. 

“Match my pace, Sakura.” Suo’s challenge rang clear and concise, “Perhaps if you last longer than me, I’ll let you have her next.” 

Sakura perked. He spat into his hand, saliva mixing with your slick. Challenge on.  “Pretty sure my stamina’s better than yours, Suo.” 

You gripped Suo’s forearms, the back of your head craned so your lips met Suo’s exposed throat. You needed something, anything, to occupy your mouth as he lowered you onto him. He was long. Much longer than you estimated. His tip split you and your mind drained of any and all thought. He filled you up comfortably, your pussy and his size forming to each other. It was then you realized Suo was losing composure. 

He began to sigh heavy, prettily. He was gaging how far into you he was by the way Sakura fucked his own fist. You’re heavy lidded gaze latched onto your boyfriend, piecing it all together. He started from his tip and slowly slid his hand down, matching it to how deep Suo sank into your greedy cunt. 

Suo began to rock his hips into yours.  At first it was slow. Every time he nearly pulled out only to thrust back into you with such force, you thought he was in your throat. The slapping stick of your sobbing hole against him matched with the smack of Sakura fucking himself. 

The intensity of his duochrome hues burning at your very core. Being able to see him, him able to see you – it was a blessing gifted from whatever deity gifted you all this moment. He was imagining being in Suo’s spot, fucking into you, holding you hostage at the edge. 

The fox bit into your shoulder, no longer caring of Sakura’s matching speed. His thighs beat into yours, cock searing its very shape into you. It reduced you to shuddering, shivering smithereens. A sheen of sweat licked at all your bodies. Your stomach rolled with increasing tension, a string held taught at each end. You held on for as long as you could, really you did. For every heavy thrust up, you bucked. Suo’s head struck at just the right spot. Again. And again. And again. 

It built from your core to your throat to your head, burning you up until you couldn’t see straight through the smoke. Your toes curled and your nails bit into Suo’s arm. He hissed at first only to breathlessly laugh. The sound grounded you. 

Suo bit into your shoulder, eyes now hard on Sakura. He hadn’t cum yet. Impressive. Even more impressive that you hadn’t yet despite your begging for that delectable finish. He was devouring you whole, memorizing your every sound. He’ll dream about the way your pussy felt cinching around him until his death. Suo was a greedy man at heart, despite how much he cared for you both. He wanted you to beg for his approval - to call his name more. He wanted you to remember him through it all. 

Sakura’s thick cock rolled through his fingers. His abs tensed as he withheld his own finish. Like hell he’d lose when you were on the line. You tear-stained lashes, your breasts jostling with each thrust, and not to fucking mention that he could see the curve of Suo’s cock massaging at your belly – it made Sakura wish he had a camera. Porn was nothing compared to this. Seeing you get your guts rocked burned into Sakura’s psyche. 

“F-fuck Suo, you gonna let her cum or what?!” Sakura growled. Their eyes locked and like two apex predators lapping at the same spring, they struck a bargain.

“Pretty girl~” Suo sighed hoarsely, “Do you – h’ah – do you want to cum?” He fucked you hard and steady. His controlled pace held you right where he wanted. With the way you clamped around him so desperately, he knew you were holding it just for him, too. You weren’t in your body anymore anyway. You’d been fucked to purgatory without passage to heaven or hell. Mentally you were fucking them both. Their synchronicity thread the three of you together in both sensation and in spirit. Surreal. It was surreal. 

“My dear,” Suo’s hand moved to your throat, palm resting at the front while his index and thumb gripped your jaw again. He pulled you to look him in the eye, “Do you want to cum or no? I can leave you like just like this if you don’t answer.” 

His threat invaded your headspace, ripping your back to your body and back to clarity. Your legs shook with a violence, your belly and sides and arms trembling as you withheld yourself from orgasm. All you could do was nod as your throat had become sore from sound. 

“Get ready~. Your pace now!” Suo let your boyfriend have a taste of control for desert. 

Now Suo fucked you to Sakura’s increasing pace. Not only did he match pace, but he match ferocity and depth. Your cunt was the same as Sakura’s very fist, linking you to his heavy handed masturbation.

The burn of your muscles, the chill of sweat, the cigarette burn pleasure clawing at your cervix all coalesced. Your toes curled and you pressed Suo’s hand harder to your throat til you felt dizzy. Each pound and pulse of your finishing show worth an eye-rolling encore. Hot and thick, Suo coats your insides. Each pulse of his cock followed by the cinch of your walls in argument. Against your stomach, Sakura painted his own mark. His growling ‘fuck’ a sweet chorus against your mind. 

The three of you panting together, letting the soothing snow of the television calm your nerves. Once you all had caught your breath, Suo grabbed his shirt, ready to catch his cum from seeping out of you and onto the couch as he pulled out. You shuddered, muscles too weak from exertion to even attempt to help. 

“N-now onto aftercare,” The martial artist sucked in air and let it out in a stream, “Could you run the bath? I think our little darling here is too tired to stand.” 

Warning con't. Consult a licensed therapist or psychologist if exposure therapy interests you as there are specific rules and regulations to the practice that a professional will know more than some schmo on tumblr. If done incorrectly, exposure therapy can reinforce and worsen phobias, trauma, and rituals so it is incredibly, incredibly important to seek a professional. Contact your insurance, your pcp, your therapist, whomever you need to refer you to a specialist if you are interested in exposure therapy.

It can be beneficial for PTSD, OCD, anxiety, phobias. Do your research on pubmed as pubmed is a proper and peer reviewed source for any type of medical information. If you need assistance navigating pubmed I would be happy to help as while I do not have a license for therapy nor a Psy.D., I at least have a degree in psych/neuro to know how to find reliable resources. The least I can do is offer help with finding proper peer-reviewed literature.

[ticklishfiend]

Figure Us Out (ATLA)

(lee!zuko /ler!aang and sokka)

A/N : i love atla rn. love zuko. if i encounter an awkward grumpy guy with a redemption arc in media, u bet ur ass i’m going to tickle him

Word Count : 3863

Summary : Zuko still feels like an outsider in their group. Aang and the others are gonna make sure he feels included!

hope u enjoy!!

—

“You’re such a liar!” Katara playfully punched Sokka in the arm, drawing a laugh out of him.

“I am not! That’s exactly how it went down, you’re just embarrassed that–”

“I’m not embarrassed–”

“Yeah, and you’re totally not red in the face either.”

“Sokka!”

This was…this was weird. 

Before meeting Sokka and Katara, Zuko really thought “being angry at your sibling” was a concept he understood better than anyone. He and Azula fought constantly back at home, it was pretty much just how they communicated with each other. Arguments aplenty, yelling and bickering by the dozen. 

But after spending the past few weeks with his new team (the word ‘friends’ still makes him bite his tongue), he’s realized there’s actually two different types of a sibling fight, and one of those types he’s never personally encountered before.

He’s used to spitting insults, deep personal cuts made against your biggest insecurities. Lies and manipulation hidden under sweet smiles so no one around suspects a thing. Most fights were like dances, using careful words and holding back just enough information to make your opponent second-guess themselves. And, of course, an argument was rarely ever had without literal flames thrown around to really drive it home.

But this? This was playful bickering around a campfire just to get under each other’s skin. Lighthearted teasing that showed how well they knew each other. There was love under each jab.

It was sorta weirding Zuko out.

He wasn’t uncomfortable by it, in fact probably the opposite. It made him feel closer to the group that he was included in moments like these. He liked getting to witness how normal siblings are supposed to interact, even if he knows he’ll never truly get to experience something like that himself. Zuko’s accepted his distance with Azula, and honestly it’d probably feel weirder if they did interact like this after everything they’ve gone through.

Honestly, he’s not sure why he feels weird. Maybe it’s because he’s just not as close to them all as they are to each other. Right now, Zuko’s just an awkward outsider that’s sorta-kinda trying to fit in, and fitting in with normal people has never exactly been his strong suit. He’s awkward and stiff and he knows it. And yet, they’ve been so open to him already. Sure, he had to prove he was over his whole ‘capture the avatar to avenge my honor’ phase, but now that he’s over that hump they’ve been super cool to him.

Zuko’s weirdly enjoyed getting to know this group’s dynamics with each other. He’s not entirely sure how he fits in yet, but that’s not even his biggest concern right now. Actually, his biggest concern right now might be that weird look Katara’s got on her face.

“Lying is pretty unbecoming of a warrior, dontcha think Suki?” Katara grinned over at Sokka’s girlfriend, who chuckled into his shoulder,

“Do not get me involved in…whatever this is.”

“Yeah, don’t drag her into this! She wasn’t even there!” Sokka argued very loudly, his usual bickering style. He gripped onto Suki’s arm with a pout, fluttering his eyelashes. “You believe me, right?”

Suki glanced at Katara behind Sokka’s back, and could clearly see her plotting something. Katara grinned like a loon before holding a finger up to her lips. Suki giggled, “Of course I believe you. How couldn’t I believe this face?” She pinched his cheek and Sokka hummed happily. Zuko took another spoonful of soup as he watched quietly, catching on that something was about to happen. He just didn’t know what.

Then, when Katara shoved her hands under Sokka’s arms, Zuko nearly spit his soup into the fire at Sokka’s resounding shriek. Sokka quickly fell into a fit of loud laughter, toppling over his log with Katara following after. 

“Admit you’re a liar!” She practically yelled over Sokka’s obnoxiously loud cackling. “Admit it!”

“AH! Ahaha no! You–You’re crahazy!” He sputtered out, shoving at Katara’s hands to no avail. 

Zuko felt weird watching this. He’s not unfamiliar with the concept of tickling, but he’s not exactly accustomed to it either. Especially not with family. Sure, Uncle had been known to tweak his sides every once in a while when they were out on their own together, but never anything like this. Zuko took to awkwardly staring into his soup, hoping he’d fade into the background like he usually did at dinner time. 

Unfortunately for him, tonight he was sitting next to Aang. Zuko felt an elbow nudge his rib, glancing over to the smiling Avatar. 

“Y’know, Sokka’s pretty well-known for exaggerating his stories like, a lot. Katara’s told this story before and he didn’t say a thing then. He definitely deserves this.” 

Zuko swallowed some soup. “That seems likely,” he said stiffly. Zuko could feel Aang’s eyes on him at the same time he heard the scuffle quiet down. 

“That was…” Sokka panted, “so uncalled for. Did you have to do that in front of Suki? And the fire prince?!” Sokka whined, his hands thrown over his face. 

“Hey, if anyone deserves to know how much of a liar you are, it’s gonna be your girlfriend and the new guy,” Katara said proudly, standing up to grab another log for the fire. Sokka grumbled, crossing his arms as Suki wrapped him in a sympathetic hug. 

Zuko decided not to acknowledge his mentioning, not sure if he should get involved in this. Apparently Aang felt otherwise.

“Did you and your sister ever play like that?”

Oh. Okay. So that’s what Aang was thinking about. 

The crackling of the fire seemed so much louder now that everyone had gone noticeably silent. Zuko found himself staring into it.

Katara shifted uncomfortably. “Aang, maybe we shouldn’t–” 

“No no, it’s okay,” Zuko sat his bowl down next to his log. “I understand having questions.”

Aang continued looking at him with those big eyes of his, but Zuko kept staring into the fire. Talking about family wasn’t always the easiest, but felt necessary in gaining more of their trust. They deserved to know this stuff. 

“My sister and I have never really been close. We’ve had our…moments. But play was rarely on the table,” Zuko said. “Not when we both had so much on the line.”

Aang pinched his lips together in thought. “So I’m guessing tickle fights were never on the table either, huh?”

Zuko huffed in amusement, finally peeking over at Aang. “No, not really.”

“Wait, so…” Sokka spoke up, curiosity mixed with something else glinting in his eye, clearly excited about changing the subject. “Do you even know if you’re ticklish?” 

Toph barked a laugh from her rock stool. “You’re just asking cause you’re tired of being the most ticklish in the group!” 

“Hey!” Sokka exclaimed angrily before fixing his face. “Look, first of all, I’m not the most ticklish. We all know that title belongs to Aang,” Sokka nodded towards Aang, who just grinned. “And secondly, being the one that gets ganged up on all the time gets a little unfair when I’m surrounded by frickin' benders, okay?!”

Everyone but Zuko chuckled at that, which brought Sokka’s attention back towards him. “Seriously though, fire prince. Ticklish or no?”

“Um…” Zuko cringed. “I mean, yeah I guess so. Er–Uncle poked me sometimes when we were on the run together, if that counts.”

“Did you not just hear Sokka begging for his life two seconds ago?” said Toph with a chuckle. “That definitely doesn’t count.”

Zuko really wasn’t sure what to say. He’s smart enough to know where this conversation seemed to be heading, and was really unsure how to feel about that. In a poor attempt to evade whatever this was, he pulled his knees to his chest and crossed his arms over them, leaving a spot to rest his head.

While Zuko might’ve been smart enough to sense the direction these questions were heading, Aang was smart enough to sense he didn’t really feel comfortable with it. Not yet at least. 

“Sokka, can you tell that story about the saber-tooth moose lion? I don’t think Zuko’s heard that one yet.”

Sokka gasped in excitement, his train of thought successfully derailed. “Foo Foo Cuddlypoops!”

—

The next day, Zuko had forgotten all about the attention he got last night. Sure, he thought about it some when he was trying to go to sleep that night. And sure, maybe he clutched onto his midsection a little tighter than usual as he dozed off, thinking about the loud laughter drawn out of Sokka from playful hands. It didn’t…it wasn’t like he was actually thinking about it. Not in any real way. It was just something interesting to ponder on. A sensation relatively foreign to him that would probably make him laugh like he didn’t often get to do so freely. And thinking about the fact that the rest of the group seemed curious if it would work on him was definitely…it was totally nothing, really.

So like–he’s forgotten all about it now. It’s a new day, and Zuko’s got work to do. 

He and Aang had been training their fire all morning, and it was finally time for lunch. Sokka had gone fishing earlier, so they all kept to doing their own thing while he cooked over the fire (a fire Aang had lit himself, by the way. Zuko felt a weird sense of pride that Aang was seriously getting the hang of this, and using it in a way he knew would make Uncle proud).

Zuko decided on meditation while he waited. He sat on the ground shirtless, honoring his Uncle as he let the sun warm his skin and settle the fire inside him. Meditation like this seemed impossible to him just a couple years ago, his impatience once too thin and his temper too fraught. But now, it came so much easier. Zuko could feel the sun working wonders in his body, keeping his fire at a healthy state while also giving him time to clear his full mind. It was truly relaxing.

Well, it was relaxing, until he felt a set of hands scribbling at the base of his spine. “GAAHA–!” Zuko was quickly jolted out of his zone with a yelp, arching his back away with flailing arms. 

“What the–?!” Zuko whipped his head around to find Toph giggling behind him on the ground. “Toph, what the heck?! Can’t you see I’m meditating!”

“Well duh, Sparky, that’s why I did it,” She wiggled her fingers in the air teasingly with a grin. “You never even saw it coming!”

Zuko couldn’t will the flush from his face. He felt so embarrassed, getting played by a 12 year old girl like that. Zuko groaned into his palm, “Whatever, just don’t do it again. Let me finish before–”

“Lunch is ready!” Sokka yelled across camp, using Suki’s fan to waft the smell towards his friends. Zuko groaned again, scowling at the girl who couldn’t even see him doing it. 

“Time to eat, Jumpy,” Toph snickered, getting up and following the smell. Zuko rolled his eyes before throwing his shirt back on and following behind.

For the next 10 minutes the group sat around the smoky logs no longer lit by fire, eating their food and sharing how their days have gone so far.

“Guys, Zuko showed me this really cool firebending trick earlier! I’ll show you once my stomach’s settled,” Aang said excitedly, taking a bite of the berries Katara had scavenged for him. 

“It’s actually a pretty complicated move. I was surprised you picked it up so quick,” Zuko said, feeling a little shy. He was finally warming up enough to talk without being addressed first during these meal times, and silently hoped he wouldn’t get called out on it.

“Well, that’s Aang for you,” Katara smiled towards the Avatar. “Actually, it sorta frustrated me when I first started teaching him waterbending. It took me ages to master those skills, and yet it took him no time at all.” She crossed her arms at him, teasing as if it still bothered her after all this time.

“Yeah, I get that,” said Zuko. “I guess it doesn’t bother me as much since I’ve already seen all the crazy stuff he can do with the other elements. It’s not exactly new for me to see him be so…” Zuko waved his hand in the air trying to find the word, but once he did he got a little embarrassed and decided against it. “Well, you know.”

“Nooo, c’mon, what were you gonna say!” Aang grinned beside him, poking his arm. “You were totally gonna say ‘amazing’ right?”

Zuko sported a little grin of his own, peeking an eye towards Aang. “Actually, I was gonna say annoying,” Zuko lied, almost chuckling at Aang’s gasp.

“Ohoh snap!” Sokka giggled, stuffing his face with more fish. “You just gonna take that, Aang?”

Toph suddenly let her stool drop to the ground, the loud bang catching everyone’s attention. “I know how you can get him back.”

Zuko froze, staring nervously her way. Aang caught the look he was giving, and was immediately intrigued.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Aang asked, before Toph leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made them both snicker.

Aang stood up with crossed arms, unable to stop smiling. “You know, I just remembered a certain conversation we had last night about a certain weakness of yours.” Zuko’s eyes widened, his gaze darting around each person to gauge their reactions. They were all smiling, and Zuko felt a nervous twitch at the corner of his own lips.

“Cmon, seriously? I know what you told him, Toph, and that was not what you think it was. You just…surprised me while I was concentrating,” Zuko defended, trying really hard not to smile right now.

“Yeah, tell that to the giggle you let slip,” Toph snickered.

Sokka caught on quickly with a chuckle. “Oh, buddy, you are so in for it now,” he tossed his last bite of fish into his mouth. “Take it from me, it’s best to just let it happen instead of running. If you run now, everybody’s gonna come after you.”

Zuko froze, darting his eyes back to Aang towering over him. The Avatar wiggled his fingers in the air, and Zuko knew what he had to do.

With a groan, Zuko took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks with air, and tensed his entire body. He pulled his arms close to his chest and clenched his eyes closed. He was gonna take it like a champ. A very awkward champ.

But instead of the tickle attack he had expected, he heard everyone around start laughing. He peeked one eye open and saw Aang doubled over holding his stomach through his giggles.

Katara snickered behind her hand, “For a former prince, you really can be such a dork sometimes!” Zuko blushed, untensing his body.

“Sokka told me not to run so–!” Zuko waved his arms around awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He sighed behind his hands, feeling warm in the face. “I really don’t get you people sometimes.”

Aang giggled, walking behind Zuko and plopping down. “It’s okay, you’ll figure us out eventually,” he said, before digging his fingers into the back of Zuko’s ribs. 

“AH! Ahaha–wait! Aang!” Zuko sputtered out a surprised giggle before pinching his lips closed, squirming and kicking his feet into the dirt. He giggled in his throat, trying hard not to let any sounds escape his lips. Somehow, this was even more embarrassing than Zuko thought it would be.

“Oh cmon, he’s trying to hold it in!” Toph complained, pointing at her ears, “I can’t exactly see your reactions, idiot, I’m gonna need to hear it.”

Zuko shook his head, but it was getting really hard to contain himself when Aang was doing that to his sides. He kept letting out little squeaks and growls, but he could feel his chest was filling with giggles and knew it would be no time before a real laugh leaked through.

“Get his armpits! That always kills you and Sokka,” Katara called out, getting an offended, “Hey, what’s this got to do with me?!” from Sokka.

Aang listened, tickling with so much concentration his tongue poked through his lips. He tried sticking his fingers under Zuko’s arms, but the prince kept them glued tight to his sides. Aang stopped with a chuckle, looking toward the siblings. “He won’t let me in there!”

“I can’t hehelp it!” Zuko complained, but didn’t move from his spot on the log. He panted, relieved for a break, but he could tell Aang wasn’t finished just yet.

“At least try to move your arms away. C’mon, I wanna hear you laugh!” Aang said, giving Zuko a poke to his lower back. When Zuko yelped and arched away, Aang snickered and tried again. And again. And again. Aang kept poking at his back like a typewriter, and Zuko let out the quickest set of giggles before standing up and backing away nervously.

“I–I cahan’t. I really–there’s no way–” Zuko shook his head, embarrassed but clearly having some fun himself. Everyone giggled at his reaction, amused by how ticklish and unable to take it he seemed to be.

“Wait, okay, now I want a turn,” Sokka stood up from his log and walked towards Zuko with wiggly fingers. Zuko shrinked away with a nervous chuckle, his arms wrapped around his midsection. 

“Noho way, this is ridiculous–”

“Oh cmoooon! I’ll let you get me back after!” Sokka locked his hands together to beg, “Pleeease Zuko?” He pouted and bat his eyelashes at the boy. Zuko just scoffed and rolled his eyes with a grin peeking at the corner of his lips.

“You are so stupid,” he grumbled. “That’s not gonna work on me. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Maybe not, but I think I make a pretty good argument. I’m super fun to tickle, right guys?” Sokka looked around the room. Katara shrugged.

“Eh. You’re super loud. It’s kind of annoying.”

“Katara! Help me here!”

“Er–buuuut you do snort like a pig sometimes! That’s pretty funny,” she smiled toward Zuko, who just gave an incredulous look back. “I think you should do it. He’s pretty easy to fight back if you hate it.”

Zuko took a second to think it over. No one launched towards him, no one took him by surprise. Everyone just waited to see if he’d actually be okay with it.

Spirits. Sometimes it’s really annoying how nice this group can be. 

With a sigh, Zuko spread his arms out to the side, holding his head up high (but kept his eyes closed for good measure. It’s really embarrassing to look everyone in the eyes right now).

“Alright, yes!” Sokka clapped his hands together, making his way behind Zuko. “Okay, see how long you can keep your arms up for. Aang and I play this game all the time.”

Zuko expected the tickle to come right after, but…nothing happened. He waited a few seconds, and still, nothing. Finally he got frustrated, and peeked his eyes open to see Sokka’s hands floating just above his armpits. Seeing that freaked Zuko out way more than he expected, shooting his arms down with a yelp. Unfortunately for him, all that did was trap Sokka’s hands right where they wanted to be, and they immediately dug into his armpits like no tomorrow.

Zuko shrieked, curling up as much as he could while standing before crumbling into a fit of screechy cackles and giggles.

“Oh man, I wasn’t sure that trick would work on you!” Sokka giggled, his fingertips gently but efficiently digging into Zuko’s underarms with no plan on moving.

Zuko was in stitches. He wasn’t expecting this to be so unbearable, but spirits were his armpits ticklish. He could barely get a word out, pretty much babbling nonsense through his endless laughter.

“Ahaha! W-waahaha! It-It–-gggahaha nohoho!” Zuko cackled, squirming from side to side before crumbling to his knees in laughter. 

“Finally!” said Toph, punching Aang in the shoulder happily. “Took you softies long enough to get him actually laughing! If it was me tickling Sparky, he’d probably be in tears by now.”

“And that’s exactly why you aren’t allowed to tickle him,” Katara said, watching the scene with a smile. “Not yet at least. Clearly this is new to Zuko, we don’t wanna run him off when we just got him.”

“St-stahahaha! Ahaha guys!” Zuko rolled onto his back, his body overcome with giggles when Sokka started pinching lightly at his sides. 

“‘Guys?’ Don’t look at us, it’s Sokka you’ve gotta bargain with,” Toph teased, popping one of Aang’s berries into her mouth.

“Yeah! What do I get in return for stopping, huh?” Sokka said, pinching upward toward his lower ribs. That got a real good shriek out of Zuko, and everyone around couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I-! Gahaha, I dohohon’t–fffaahaha knohohow!” Zuko threw his head back as Sokka tickled all over his ribs, finally grabbing onto Sokka’s wrists and pulling him off. Sokka pulled back with no fight, only giving him another poke in the belly to hear Zuko yelp before sitting back and letting the boy collect himself.

Zuko panted, a stray giggle escaping him as he breathed. He clutched his stomach and threw a hand over his warm face, covering his eyes. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna look everyone in the eyes after that display. Oh spirits, what was he thinking? That was such a bad idea letting them take him out so easily like that. They’ll never take him seriously again, he’s supposed to be Aang’s teacher for pete’s sake, shoot this might be really bad, this might—

“Ohoho man that was awesome Zuko! You lasted way longer than I thought you would!” Aang giggled from above Zuko’s head. Zuko peeked his eyes out and saw Aang holding up a hand for him to high five.

Zuko couldn’t help the little giggle that slipped out at that. The Avatar is so…silly. He groaned and swatted Aang’s hand away, making everyone laugh. 

“After you get Sokka back, it’s my turn to play!” Aang straightened his back quickly, making the T-stance with his arms that Zuko held just a minute prior. “I bet I can last longer than you!”

“Pfff-” Toph laughed, slapping a hand on Aang’s shoulder. “Twinkle-toes, your record is currently four seconds without begging. You should probably start thinking your bets through before making them.”

“You can go ahead and have your turn. I’ll get Sokka when he least expects it,” Zuko grinned, sitting up and shooting his attacker a mischievous look. Sokka gulped with a nervous giggle, darting towards Aang to tickle him and change the subject away from himself.

“Ahaha wait! I wahasn’t ready!” Aang cried, immediately crumbling to the floor in a fit of childish shrieks and giggles.

Zuko watched on with a smile he couldn’t wipe from his face. These people were good. They worked with him at his pace. They understood things take time for him, and they’re okay with that. 

Zuko can tell they already see him as their friend. He’s starting to think he can see them in the same light.

-

thanks for reading! consider reblogging if u enjoyed hehe <3

[abbysbasement]

(Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader)

 — PAPI BONES

A/N: Hi, this is the formerly scrapped, 3x longer, 2 months writing project that I had because I wanted to fuck abby in a closet! this was actually supposed to be my first post on tumblr, but i got mad at it and sent it to the dungeon for two months :/ but yall wanted it, so I'm super happy i got to finish it, even though it took multiple days and cups of coffee to power through. sorry for the wait, hope you fuck wit her.

content tags (can you tell i don't want to write anymore ;w;): college au, childish antics at a big age, drinking, cool, ellie and dina are in this! kind of abstract sexual descriptions, assplay, cunnilingus (r!receiving), boob... touching? small mention of drugs because dealer!ellie, drunk sex, enthusiastic consent! :D, reader is kind of annoying sorry, men being assholes, reader catching feelings for a girl she fucked once, real.

wc: 7.6k ;w; (send help)

proofread?; barely.

tl : @clearheartgreyflowers, @oatmilkchaii, @ghostfacebunny, @ellsbclls (thank you to the sweetest deb @ellsbclls for helping beta read this, i appreciate your suggestions and encouragement and this would probably have been scrapped TWICE without your help ;w; )

synopsis: your best friend dina drags you to a college frat party. you hate shit like this, and you're painfully shy but when she does those puppy dog eyes you can't say no, so in a cruel twist of fate you end up in the closet with abby Anderson, and lose your virginity. yay college! (apart of the 'jackson university' thematic!)

Your idea of a Saturday night well spent wasn’t squeezing through a sea of sweaty backs; but like many things in your life, it wasn’t up to you, because you were easily swayed. Everything was overstimulating, the waves of bodies on bodies that pulsated and threw you between different poses and balances to keep on your feet, the ringing of laughter, of music, of every sound echoing in your head, around your body, vibrating through your very core. The smell of liquor and drunken antics and that one guy puking in the corner made you sick. But somehow, you were here, spurred on by peer pressure friendship and goodwill, trudging through the blackened room to your target; the snack table. 

Dina, your roommate, and determinant best friend held a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the crowd and causing a small jolt to run down your body as she steered you around every obstacle and corner in the room. She was a woman on a mission, and the one who dragged you out of bed, convincing you - against your better judgment- that it was fatal that you accompanied her to a frat party. You knew she was good-natured, and your first friend when you moved 500 miles away from home to college. It was an instant click, but you were opposite best friends. 

Dina, ever the social butterfly, had connections in all different spaces; she could party with the sorority girls –hold the coke, please,– out-cram everyone, even the National Honor Society kids, all the way to the top of the class, hell, she was on the damn debate team, which was probably why it wasn’t a struggle to get a ‘yes’ out of you. You, on the other hand, were uncomfortable at bars, school sporting events, and parties, and one time you even thre– fuck, never mind. It was all effortless to her, in almost an enviable way. Dina loved to go clubbing, loved to hang, out, and she had been near-begging you to come out with her and her cool friends for months, not that you’re not cool, I mean. 

And somehow, despite everything, it worked. 

You could almost remember how you got there if you put away the sticky crunch of coke sticking to your shoes with each step, and reached back into the recesses of your mind. Or at least, back three-and-a-half hours ago. 

“They’re all great people, no weirdos, promise!” 

It was the emphatic plea made to you as you lay on your bed, queuing up the next episode of the apocalypse show you watched each week, watching her make Dina list off every reason why you just had to follow her out tonight. It was clearly very life-or-death shit to her, but you were unconvinced. It was just a party but there was going to be a smaller, more intimate kickback in a friend-of-a-friend’s basement. She was in the middle of getting ready, sitting at her school-issue desk and looking at herself in the mirror, dark hair coned over her head in a bun as she sat in deep concentration, words slurred and simple as she applied mascara, her mouth slacked into an O position.

“So you’re gonna like, fucking go, yeah?”

She said it as though it was obvious, like it wasn’t a question, but one look at you, –curled up in covers, laptop on chest, martini glass pajama pants and teddy bear teeshirt ON, unbothered– showed her that it would be a tall order, and that big guns would be needed. 

“Not interested, sorry.” 

“Not even a tinyyyyy bit?” Dina squeezed her fingers together for emphasis, throwing her head back in mock exhaust, a theatric groan rumbling out of her throat. “Not even a little bit.” You echoed, your roommate cutting her eye at you through her handheld mirror, but it was what it was. You weren’t into all of that stuff; the bump and grind of sweaty bodies wasn’t alluring, listening to someone else’s shitty music at ear-bleeding levels felt like hell, and if you wanted to get pitifully drunk and throw up all over yourself, there was a garbage can right under your bed. But your friend really, really, wanted your company and it made you feel, really, really bad to always blow her off. 

“Why are you going so hard on this?” You bemused as you propped up on your elbows, watching as she stalked around the room in her newly painted face, quickly rummaging through her drawer for a spare outfit. 

“Maybe because it bums me out to see my super cool roommate wasting away in her dorm every weekend?” In Dina’s mind, she was making a lot of sense. She was waiting for you to chime in, to say you know what, Dee? You’re right, I get it. But instead, you stared blankly, and she threw down her arms in exasperation. “You’re in fucking college, man! You don’t even wanna have one night of fun?”  She punctuated the ‘fucking’ with a wild gesture around her head, which made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, I was planning on wa–”

Your body was jostled by an insane amount of weight, almost turned completely over by two roughhousing dudes– a mess of limbs and arms, who looked at you and then at each other, as though they had spontaneously sobered up. You didn’t even have the time to start to be angry when they prattled off a blended, slurred apology and thrashed somewhere away through the mass of hands and faces in the dark room.

Fucking assholes, ruining the flashback sequence. 

The room was lit only by haphazard mood lights; soft LEDs and gaudy, flickering Christmas baubles, a solitary television, camped by stoners who laughed madly, and the dim auburn glow of the odd ceiling lamp nestled in the far back of the house. You were out of your element; you couldn’t dance, weren’t the most social, and even though you were with a friend, all of this made you feel very alone.

Dina cut through the crowd with her elbow, bellowing out “Ex–cuse me!” while she pushed you through gaps as they formed. Her voice fell to mutter again, barely audible, chunked and cut by the music bouncing from wall to wall, grumbling that she had places to be, and if E*&^$ didn’t get her off at least once, there would be hell to pay.  She was determined to get to the other side of the room, where it was arranged that by the chips, as smokers usually are, she would find her current fuckbuddy and her friends, waiting to hotbox and pregame a bit more before the room peaked. She was driven by horniness and selfishness, as one typically is after four shots of Tito’s vodka, and getting smoked out and ‘taken care of’ upstairs was half the reason she even came.

You’d never met her most recent suitor, and the question of her girlfriend was always met with a ‘no, she’s just my sneaky link.’ but you didn’t question it enough to know more. She was just the girl who Dina would go off campus to meet, and as long as she wasn’t a slasher, and her pre-rolls knocked you on your ass, it would be what it was. You were carried away by your friend’s excitement, by her heavy hand nearly lifting you off of your feet as she beelined to the kitchen, wrangling your twin bodies every which way. 

“Ellie! Ellie!” She yelled, jumping up and down a bit to compensate for her voice being swallowed by the bass. She burrowed through the wave, pushing you towards a girl leaning against the sink, nursing a red cup and low, hazy eyes. Her auburn hair was swallowed by a black docker, and a dark-coloured backpack jutted out from behind her as she smiled and waved the two of you –mostly Dina, into her orbit. She looped her head under your shoulder to be pulled into the strong hug of firm biceps, and Arms looked you over, offering a friendly nod. 

–

“It’s on streaming. You can watch ‘Many of Them’ literally whenever!”

“Live tweeting is a part of the experience.” You chided matter-of-factly, sitting up cross-legged. It wasn’t like the brunette was wrong, exactly, but you couldn’t give up too much at once. Going soft was not a part of the plan.

“Fuck, whatever– You know the girl I’ve been hooking up with, right?” Her eyebrow raised at your dispassionate ‘not really.’ “Well you know her fucking joints, she sells– weed, shrooms… pills?” Dina listed off with her finger, mulling over the last detail for a second, then confirming in her head with a nod. It’s fine, you’re cool, and the two of you had always bonded over your love of recreational joy anyways. “So, if you wanna smoke orsomething– I got you, all you have to do is show up.” Her hands were up almost sheepishly as she tested the waters, but you weren’t super convinced, and your idea of fun wasn’t exactly playing wingman while she got tongue-fucked by a drug dealer, and the pregnant pause was enough to cue her into having to bring out the big guns. 

“-And, and!  I'll wash all our dishes, and cleanyoursideoftheroomforaweek.” 

Damn, she practically ran through that last part, so under her breath you knew she was hoping that you didn’t hear. But you did, and for a second you could almost see a smirk play on her face as your eyes lit up. She was always up for a good bribe, and even though she would act annoyed, it was great for breaking you out of your shell. She would offer to watch the zombie show if you came out to the bars in your college town with her, pizza if you confessed to your crush instead of instastalking them three times a day, even though it didn’t work, –oh well, shooters shoot– and tonight? A week free from chores if you just spent a couple of hours in your own personal hell. Yeah, you would give her this one. 

“Now we’re talking. If you want someone to be the lookout while you and Jesse Pinkman go at it, who am I to deny?” You teased, kicking your legs over the edge of the bed. 

Your roommate craned her head up, momentarily stopping her mission of rifling through her clothes. “Who said that?”

“You’re in your ‘good panty’ drawer.” You whispered cheekily. 

“Well, you got me. Someone has to get fucked around here.”

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” You laughed, throwing your pillow, hitting smack in the center of her chest. 

Dina bounced around the room, practically billowing with glee. There was a descending, barely audible ‘fuck yeah’ as she traipsed down the hall towards the bathroom, rounding the corner and disappearing from your periphery. 

“By the way, you know Jesse’s last name is Huang, right, not Pinkman? And we’re uh– not together anymore.” Dina shouted through the silence.

“That’s a character from Breaking Bad. It was a joke– because he’s a drug de–” You stopped yourself midway. “Never mind. It’s not funny if I explain it.”

“Oh– I never watched Breaking Bad. Too Long.” She deadpanned. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you slid your way off the bed. 

That’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit bathroom, missing the comfort of your memories as ‘Ellie’ rolled a blunt. You stood leaning against the door and Dina sat on the closed toilet seat. The dealer sealed the last of the leaf with a flick of the tongue and a lick of spit, maintaining direct eye contact with Dina so she could not-so-subtly show off. She passed it to the brunette first, who mimed a cheeky, ‘why thank you’ and drew poutily. You three sat there for a while, smoking and talking, steam from the hot shower wafting above your heads as music pumped through the foundation of the house. 

There was laughter outside of the door and it soon became awkward for you, Ellie and Dina finishing the blunt, –you were a lightweight– and chatting idly as Dina traced a fingertip against the outline of the tattoo Ellie was showing off. 

The temperature of the tiny room ran hotter between their reddened eyes, and it was as though you were being banished by a galactic force. You couldn’t mistake how the red-haired girl’s glance caught an extra second or so at the way Dina’s body was hugged just right in her party dress, cleavage strained against the fuchsia PVC of her neckline, and how she bit the corner of her lip when her eyes hooked on a dark mole on Dina’s breast that was framed by the feathers of her black hair.  

It was time to go, unless you were interested in seeing your best friend get dug out on the countertop.

You were already a little bit wobbly, hearing a giggle that slipped from Dina’s lips morph into a squeak as you slipped out of the crack you pulled in the door and into the fray, getting carried down the stairs and back over to the drinks. You crossed over a kissing couple, cutting into their makeout and heavy petting session, and through a huddled together group of girls whispering something about seeing an ex across the room. 

You gripped onto the countertop for stability when you finally broke free from the pulsating wave of bodies. There was a bit of everything surfing in deep bowls of ice and water, open bags of chips and snacks bunched up together on the island. You could not be sober for this shit. You wedged up the pop cap on a hard seltzer and brought it to your lips, the spirit coating your tongue and boiling its way into your stomach. There it was again, the familiar warm feeling in your hands and feet, the soft pressure already creeping across the flat of your face. Yeah, now that was it. The anxiety began to melt away, and you leaned against the countertop, flexing your legs. 

Wow, they’re inviting giants to the shindig too. You laughed to yourself as the scarlet-lit ocean parted, and a tall, wide figure walked through and into the darkness of a descending flight of stairs. If only it was that easy when you needed to piss, notwithstanding that you had already been in the bathroom.

 It’s fun being sardonic sometimes. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your roommate coming down the stairs, the dealer’s deft fingers pulling down part of her dress that rode up her ass.  She arched her head up, straining left and right like the eye of a submarine as she looked for you; her eyes lit up, waving to you as she fisted her companion’s belt loop, bouldering through the sea of people. She was high as fuck, if her bright pink eyes were enough to speak to it, and your gaze lingered over the new expanse of a deep purplish hickey on her neck, small indents from teeth glimmering with saliva in the light.  

There was that hotness again that burned in the pit of your stomach, not from drunkenness or anxiety, but the can of fruity liquor in your hand covered up for the embarrassing flush of your wild cherry-coloured cheeks. You peeled your eyes back up to her face and smiled dumbly. You’d never had *that* before. You’ve watched things before at least, and obviously, touched yourself to the thought, but you’ve never had someone to fool around with in bathrooms or hold your skirt when it rode up.

There was your first kiss, but it was in middle school, so it didn't count. It was all clammy lips, two noses that couldn’t get the space between them *quite* right, and an overzealous set of chompers that left you with a bloody lip. Actual horseshit, but somehow, a core memory. It was annoying in a way, how it just didn’t come to you, but you wanted to be wanted. To be lusted over, desired even in that casual touchy way that simmered between your best friend and the girl you didn’t know very well.  Dina was making grabby hands at you, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Your drink bobbed as she whisked you to her will, you and Ellie sharing a knowing look as she pushed your bodies through the hall and down the darkness of the stairwell. 

– 

“RULES ARE SIMPLE,” some asshole in a hat bellowed as he stood over all of you who sat in the circle, mildly drunk off your asses and looking for easy fun. He held up a black beer bottle, carrying it like a trophy and swishing it around your noses for a closer look. “You kids might know seven minutes in heaven.” You didn’t know him, but according to Dina, this was his house, his party, and his very annoying rules. A light patch of raised skin played against his nose as he scrunched his nose over and over again, hands on hips, clearly trying to steal back whatever thought the liquor took from him. Jason, right? 

Whatever. 

“But we’re all grown-ups here, so I present to you–” He rolled the bottle in hand, clearly soft-launching his bright idea. “Fifteen minutes in purgatory!” There was a deep groan radiating from some, but there was a small minority that exploded in cheers, and whoops. “Pretty self-explanatory, two adventurers venture deep into purgatory, and come out forever changed.

“Two adventurers go deep into purgatory,” He gestured his head at the foreboding broom closet in the back of the room. “And return forever changed.” 

“We’ll use the bottle to choose our unlucky voyagers, and you’ll spend fifteen minutes in the closet.” He explained, dropping the mystique in the second half. “Alright kids, let’s start; and just for the record– If you’re a pussy, get the fuck out of the circle!”

The drunken cast of partiers whooped and cheered, hyping each other up, spilling beer out of red cups as they gestured wildly, entirely too grown for this. The room played ‘not it’ to pick who got the first spin, and the unfortunate soul was a blonde who sat cross-legged, blank-eyed at the black glass handed to her, nodding her head tersely. 

“We got our very own Abigail Anderson– !” Her eyes narrowed. “Andddd….” Hat praised, cueing her to spin. She took the bottle, pointing the tip towards herself and then spinning it, the glass doubling, tripling the circle, making you dizzy chasing it with your eyes, and everyone sat with bated breath. It slowed and slowed and slowed, until, like ugly fate, it stopped at your feet.

“Our newbie!” He got up to cheese, leaning over you, placing his hands over your shoulders, and rocking you from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, putting your palms up defensively at nothing. 

“Um– uh…” You were at a loss for words, only cut off as his head shot into your field of view, hot, hopsy breath tanging your nostrils. “What, you scared?” He taunted, all eyes on you, watching as you nursed a deep discomfort about the whole thing behind an uneasy smile.  

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jordan.” The girl, Abby, groaned. She looked up at you from her downward pointing head, swishing her bottle of hard cider in the hand propped over her knee. Jordan, that was the name of this dickhead. Yeah, fuck him. “If she doesn’t want to get in the closet, she doesn’t want to get in the closet. I’ll just spin again.”

Dina cut in, the redhead still leaning lazily against her. “Yeah, don’t–dont be a dick, Jordan.” Her face was tight, and Ellie was annoyed because Dina was annoyed, and the room held a pregnant silence, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you felt all too responsible and all too uncomfortable with all of the eyes watching you.

“It’s fine, guys. Let’s all– eh, chill out, okay? I’m going to take the dare.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, trying to steal back the vibe, trying to replace the tension with playful drama as you circled your head around, wiggling the fingers slightly of your held-up palms. “Because I’m not a little bitch.”

The crowd exploded in raucous laughter, each voice clashing together and mimicking the sound of a pipe bursting. You looked over at your partner, who seemed pleasantly surprised, a smirk playing on her peach lips. She placed down her bottle and stood, and as she towered over you, you realised that maybe you were playing with fire. She was scary and nonchalant, but the outer workings of her face were soft and gentle. She didn’t look like the girls in the videos you watched at night; she was something different, uncharted, and before you knew it, a nervousness, and something lower, darker, ran through your body. 

Then it was time to go, you piling in first, looking around at some of the half-darkness in the room, barely enough to fit two people in. 

The asshole patted the girl’s back, corralling her into the closet behind you. Blood rushed to your head, the pressure was too great, like getting skullfucked through your ears. show her a good time, you could hear him say, and then something that you couldn’t quite understand over the bass. The mountain’s eyes narrowed, but before she could shoot back, her large body crashed into yours and the space became tighter and tighter, just enough for the two of you to put your arms out to either side or turn around. For a split second, you could see Dina’s face from over Jordan’s shoulder, tightened in concern, a timid thumbs up at the side of her head. Then, he closed the door, and the last of the light slipped out through the crack in the wall. 

There was a deep silence, and somehow, like the hazy feeling you get right before you wake from a dream, you were chest to chest in the darkness with her blue eyes staring back at you, damn-near bioluminescent. You’d seen her around, because everyone sees her around, but it hadn’t registered that the giant who had parted all of those people in the crowd like they were just water, was standing right in front of you. Outside you could hear the rumble of the music, vibrations of the bass wrapping around you and shaking you from the inside out. The closet was too tight, too warm, too filled with smells from towels and coats and folded blankets and dusty boxes of light bulbs and two cramped, awkward bodies. 

Suddenly, you felt all too intimidated.

“You’re Abigail, right?” You questioned. “Off the rugby team?”

“Abby.” You couldn’t read her face in the dark, and though she spoke pointedly she didn’t seem angry, but the accidental overstep was enough to make you want to dig a hole through the floor with your bare hands and die in it. “And yeah– captain, of the rugby team.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” You yielded. “So… what are we supposed to do? In here, I mean.” You gestured at nothing, knocking some washcloths from a top shelf down in the dark. “Ah, damn it.” You cursed under your breath, bending down to pick up the small stack. You could hear Abby behind you, sucking her teeth with a judgy hum.  Her brows were almost touching her eyelids, captured in secondhand embarrassment, and she almost felt bad for how awkward you were, scrambling to pick them up from the floor.

  If you could see her face, you’d be able to tell how her eyes flicked up and down her body, taking everything in. Your black skirt slid slightly to bunch at the front, uncovering portions of your doughy thigh and the ever-so-tiniest range of fabric hiding your prettiest secret. She had to tear her eyes away, almost. She jumped, even, glad you couldn’t see as you popped back up. 

You were cute, holding the disheveled stack in your hands, a look of sheer pride on your face. You looked over to the side, tossing them unceremoniously on a free shelf, gravity taking a couple back to the ground. Your sated chuckle, the way your tits pushed up slightly, illuminated, almost framed like art by the neckline of your cream cardigan made her hungry. She pushed the ideas of what she wanted to do with them out of her mind, but damn, she could think about some things that would make the devil embarrassed. She stomped down her desire, stoicism crossing her for a second, only for her to open it back up on second thought.

“They want us to fool around, fuck, ideally.” She started, analysing your expressions for any hint of discomfort at the conversation. “But– we don’t have to do anything.” She tried to cut some of the thick discomforts with a placating smile, almost lost in detail in the low light. She was huge, more so than you, or most anyone else you knew, the jutting-out edge of a shelf knocking the back of her head every time she leaned her head back in the tight space. The hard washboard of her torso was framed by an opening of a grey hoodie and barely much else, just the thick band of her boxers peeking from her sweatpants, and the black of a cropped tank top that stopped right below her bra line. 

“Jordan… is typically a good guy, but when he gets drunk he’s a total POS.” Abby was sallow-faced, pursing her lips, tension running through her jawline. “I shouldn’t have let him put you on the spot like that. So… I’m sorry that you got pressured to get in here.”

“It’s fine, I just.” You started, ready to say that big phrase, the one that slightly burned your back to admit. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, played seven minutes in heaven? Yeah, kind of a jackass thing to suggest in your twenties.”

Shit. She was going to make you say it. 

“No. I mean I’ve never–” and you thought your tiny voice couldn’t get any tinier. “had sex before.” 

Abby breathed in the deepest sigh, pure anxiety crossing her face for a split second, before she was feeding you apologies. “It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything we can just sit here and talk. Or be in silence if you want it’s alr–”

“I want to do it.” You said doggedly, pressing yourself into a tiny corner. Her brow perched, and there was something in those narrowing blue eyes that said she didn’t believe you. You were pigeontoed, legs shifting against one another, declaring in your firmest voice that you wanted her to take your virginity. 

“Are you sure?” She breathed out, stepping a bit closer. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything because you think they want a show.”

“Oh, my god.” You were pouting, annoyed. “I can choose if I want to have sex you know, and I want to have sex right here right n–”

She kissed you, softly as possible, testing your waters to see how far you were willing to go. Her hands were patient, one lightly knotted in the woolen knit of your cardigan to lightly pet your lower back, the other making gentle grips on your sweatered arm. Her fingers were barely bruising, gripping around your wrist almost tight enough, and a tiny shockwave coursed between your thighs and convinced you that you wanted more. In this low light, in this dark room, in this place between space and time, you wanted to be her conquest. To be taken, touched, manhandled, to be made to weather the storm of her overwhelming strength against you, lost in the middle of the ocean.

It was perverted, almost, how the idea of her showing restraint raised hairs on your skin, how you deepened the kiss like you were being overcome with an insatiable, bloody hunger. You had to take back the moment, to steal her attention in a way she couldn’t deny before she thought you were all talk; you stepped closer, positioning yourself so that her thigh hovered right below the heated space under your skirt. Her hand was warm, soft as you grabbed it, moving it lower, deeper down the divot of your back and where the fat of your ass connected. She caught on, groaning into your lips as she kneaded around your body, her tongue sweeter and heavier against yours, working that one damned hand up your skirt to cup bare skin. 

You jumped. 

As fast as it had come, her hand slipped back from under your skirt and the touch was lost completely, awkwardly hovering for a second until Abby pulled it back into her pocket and stepped back. You were miserable, eyes welling up in frustration like a lost dog at the lack of feeling. She was pulling you into insanity but was too chivalrous to drown you in it, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she looked down at you.

“Fuck– didn’t mean to be aggressive like that. I–” The redness bled across her cheeks, freckles on full display as her fingers met the wet spot that you were hiding, your hands guiding hers to the space between your thighs. There was a pause, a knowing, a challenge between the two of you as an unknown heat spread throughout your bodies, and you collided once more. The blonde’s mouth sucked a nasty pressure into your throat, agitating it with bites and licks as her head traveled deeper, hands playing at the front of your sweatered torso to undo the buttons that held your breasts hostage. 

Her entrance was assured as she popped the loops open, fingers gripping the fabric of your camisole and lifting up, taking your bra with it. She nipped at the exposed flesh, heat from her mouth traveling directly to your vagina, clit throbbing hard with need. Abby engulfed a nipple with the wetness of her tongue, closing her lips around the rapidly hardening bud to pull it to full attention, chuckling as she scraped the flesh with her teeth. The wet head was replaced with her palms, each thumb and forefinger rolling one or the other. The sensitivity of the tiny flesh was insane, enough to make you whine out loud as she continued, better than anything you had ever done to yourself. 

You were biting your lip, eyes big and doe-like as you waded through your pleasure, soft pants heaving your chest. She fished it out from between your teeth and hooked it within her own, popping the plump flesh into her mouth as she pared yours with her tongue. You swore the room was spinning, a wetness slicking between your thighs, a drip positioned between two pairs of hungry lips. You could’ve spent all fifteen minutes– or an eternity, in this beautiful hell, giving and taking and relishing in a different, sort of strange type of want.

“Don’t stop.” You moaned in between stolen breaths, the blonde chasing your mouth each time you pulled away.

“For you, pretty?” Gripping you tighter for emphasis, pressing you closer into the wall, angling further between your spread legs. “Never.” 

It was like you were some weird intoxication to her, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. How your ass molded right into the divots of her palms, those tiny moans that rang through the cage you two were in, the rapid beating of your heart rippling through your body. She wanted to peel your cardigan from your shoulders, wanted to shred your clothes from your body and take you however she liked, and make you feel better than you knew what to do with. Needed to make you scream and fuck you until you cried. But it was your first time, so she resigned to being gentle and soft, like you were a little deer in the forest, and she was trying to get close without scaring you off. so she would give you only what you needed. 

She didn’t have a lot of strong feelings about that nickname she had earned in sophomore year, War Machine, from all of the pretty girls she ran through and left unable to walk, unable to talk for a couple of days or more. but when Jordan said it, in front of you, in front of sweet and innocent, pretty and tiny *you* she could’ve reeled back and torn him apart. But she still didn’t want to scare you. So she had forced an alright, the one a child forces when they get scolded, and hid the burning in her palms that made her want to fight in the pocket of her pants. 

Your eyes bored x-rays through her formidable thighs as she bent her knees to squad before you, strong hands rubbing up and down your thighs with contrasting gentleness to the hard angles of her face, the brow that was crooked down slightly in concentration, the slightly parted lips playing with mischief as they took you in. You were frightened for just a second, until Abby looked up at you with sympathetic eyes, a hand leaving your thigh and linking with your fingers, guiding you to the base of her skull to envelop her honeyed strands. 

She was back at you, the darkness in your stomach leaking out as you palmed her head, and she ran her hands upward, more upward, until the ruffles of your cotton skirt were overturned in her palms. From the waist down, you were completely exposed, a wet spot working itself into your panties from your innermost recesses and a musky scent betraying your shyness. 

Abby pressed herself gently into the fabric, her fat lips creating a cool pressure against the hot flesh, her nose itching lightly into your pubis. You bucked your hips unconsciously, nearly fucking her face in your abandon. A vibration from her laugh traveled through you, nestled inside of you, and more wetness began to slick your channel. That friendly ache formed in your rapidly hardening clit, and a similar pain throbbed in your pinkie and middle finger. Her other hand moved up, gripping fistfuls of your ass, less forgiving now, and forcing a squeak from your lips. 

You were dumbstruck; a stranger’s hands all over you, mouth nearly on top of your sacred place, nearly leaking from sheer lust. She had barely done anything. Your jaw slacked, and in your mind you felt like a fool, lamenting how you thought your first time would be special. Soft circles rubbed into your inner thigh as she pulled your legs apart, peppering angel kisses throughout the little divots. 

“S’okay, baby.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tiny encouragement that calmed the buzzing in your mind. “Tell me how you want me. I’m yours.” 

and you thought that declaration would destroy you,’ I’m yours.’ and it felt very, very real. 

“I want you to touch me.” You said, barely a whisper, nodding as she pressed her face to your thigh, sliding down your panties to about knee-level. It was as though she had seen heaven’s gate open, awestruck at the blood rushing to engorge your lips, how your clit stood on end without even being touched. The thatch of hair curling between your thighs and around your depths. She had to have a taste, and there wasn’t much room for second-guessing as she pressed her mouth to the hot spot and flattened her tongue directly against the wettest space.

Juicy noises slid from her mouth as she rolled your clit between her tongue and sucked sharply with her lips, and it was as though you could’ve sunk to the floor, the way your legs became distinctly not yours. It was enough, enough, not enough, then too much. It was like you were an endlessly gushing fountain as Abby’s wet, firm tongue parted your lips, dipping ever so lightly into your hole as she licked out a string of nectar from your drooling cunt. It was as though you were animated, possessed even, as your hands flew into her hair, pushing her head down further and further, to that release you chased violently and madly. 

Abby was humble, letting you guide her where you needed her; she was soft at first, but you didn’t want soft, you wanted more. 

She obliged. 

The blonde slipped her fingers between your thighs and parted your slit, opening up an endless, waiting tightness. She was intrepid, pressing through your clenching muscle and opening you up more than you had ever done; thick digits tearing through you, fucking your pussy at an unforgiving pace, concentration forming in the muscles of her neck. You hid an inhuman growl in the pit of your throat, in the crook of your sweatered elbow, and she moaned out, satisfied with that which she had created inside of you. You were fucking her face in a tight, dirty closet, calf propped over a muscled shoulder for support, the heel of your booties pressing into the wall, locking her in.

 It was as though the two of you were fighting, every roll of your hips she chased with her head, every time you shied away from the pleasure she held you harder, taking you even hungrier, diving deeper to a spot you didn’t know was there; every taut pull at her scalp met with an even tighter grip into the flesh of your plush ass. The pads of her fingers violated the sopping warmth of your cunt, and you clenched your stomach unwittingly, walls flexing, holding her hand there. Drool dripped from between her lips, pooling and soaking down into the fibres of an old shag rug, caked with dust and whatever else. 

Your own slipped between your lips before you could suck it back in, and the silver trail bounced, the way it does when it breaks, and the thick drop cascaded down her temple, getting lost in your brow. The piece that was yours snaked down your collarbone and between your breasts and somehow, you felt a connection. 

Abby snorted, sucked in a breath as her fingers left you empty. Fuck. She didn’t go for her face, wiping them on the skin of your pussy, they traveled upwards, firm grips on your ass. She rubbed the flesh as though she was throwing clay, stretching the skin between her rough fingers, calluses on her palms coasting over every bump and groove. She had found what she had wanted, craning her neck lower, lower, until you could just barely see her eyes. Her fingertips prodded, greedy, opening your lips, tongue leching against your soft fruit as though she was funneling the juices directly into her mouth. You thought your thighs would give out but she held you, stronger, and you fed her willingly. 

Her middle finger dipped down into the slit, collecting juices, stealing a breath from your lungs, you wanted to scream her name but it was caught inside of you, so you stood slack-jawed, fuck drunk as she abused your walls, fucking every ridge painfully slow. The tight hole stretched around the meatiness of her finger, and she hooked it as though she was searching, retreating from the warmth, slick with your nastiest of liquids. Again, she split your ass with one hand, and you clenched your tightest hole without thinking about it. 

“Don’t worry,” She said, muffled against your mound as she latched against it once more, “gonna help you so fucking good.” You were confused, but you trusted her, a complete stranger. For a second you began to ask what there was to worry about, but your mind was pried away from you as you felt the pressure of her coated fingertip tracing around your asshole. A gentle kiss played at the head of your pussy, comforting you as you nodded your head wildly, something of a ‘yes’ flying from your throat as her middle finger parted that threshold. 

Your mind exploded, head shooting straight up into the air, a small yelp burning into a silent open-mouthed cry. You were spinning, the room was spinning, your body heated up instantly. Then, the wet warmth traveled back to your clit, her opposite hand nestling two fingers into your aching, needy twat, her tongue lapping as her fingers resumed digging and that one damned finger fucked in and out of your tightest hole painfully slow. 

She fucked you like an animal; you cried out like a bitch in heat. The music trembled through your ears, and you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that everyone would hear, everyone would know. You were both drunk and this didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything, but she was bottoming her tongue out in you and you wanted it to mean a lot. Girls talked and you fucking hated them all. She was loose, she got around, and you wanted to be hers. 

You wanted to capture her and be interesting to her and walk with her hand on your lower back around campus. Wanted her callused fist in your hair, around your neck as she took you every night. Wanted badly to fucking cum, to open the portal, to wash her face with this unholy water, wanted to kiss wet lips and taste everything. Wanted to know if she could ever like you, after you gave it up, quickly, bellowing like a foghorn against a rack of coats. You wanted to be kept, to keep her spit inside of you like a keepsake but she sucked it back in a quick second, before you could even feel her cheeks hollow between your thighs, and felt dirty for even thinking of it. 

A sweet pain formed between your thighs and you couldn’t stop the groan that rose from your throat, every muscle in your face clenching and unclenching, your eyes crossing as your orgasm came quickly into view. Abby fucked you through it, fingers slow and forgiving. It was as though a stream of slowly descending tidal waves were crashing against you, and you needed more, it hurt but you needed more. Something deep burned inside of you, endlessly hot, and you wondered how she could stand the heat as she hit it over and over again.  You sobbed, and swore that you could feel a tear roll down your cheek, feeling the need to rub your eyes for good measure.  

She looked up, entranced, face softening for a second, watching as you gave up your mind to your body. There was a hard knock at the door, the music lowered a decibel, silence filling the two of you, her fingers still deep inside of your two holes. A sing-song voice bellowed out ‘five minutes!’ and the darkness ridged her eyes. 

For the first time, her voice was hard, removing her hand from your cunt, making sure to curl the one in your ass tighter in compensation. She slammed the door twice with her fist, the frame bulging in a way that made you fear the whole thing would just fall down. “Fuck off.” Her voice was loud enough to tear through the uncomfortable tension. There was an apprehensive, ‘woah man,’ that you could barely hear, and the music regained, the party rejoiced, and hopefully, the fear of God being struck enough in your host to leave well enough alone. 

Her lips were still slick, soft, kissable with your juices. She flashed you a genuine, pretty smile.  Her hands gripped a little too tight but you wanted it all. She looked down at the mess between your trembling thighs, then at your heavy, panting face. She leaned back on her heels as a wide smile played on her face, satisfied with herself. A windy chuckle passed through her glistening lips, wiping her mouth and chin on the inside of her hoodie. “Fuckin’ insane.” She breathed out in between pants. 

“Abby.” She said, as though the strength of your orgasm traveled through your brain and made you forget the events of the last 15 minutes. “Constance Hall. Dorm 425 on the second floor.” It was as though your heart skipped a beat, but you punched it down, a weak smile playing against your lips. 

She was fucking disheveled, almost inhaling the last sweet smells of your pussy, creating a memory of the flavour and filing it away in her mind for safekeeping. She was delicate, pulling your white panties up to your thighs again, soothing a finger where those soft, curly pussy hairs were hidden again. She let down her hands, skirt furling down, covering the marks of dark possession that she left behind. “Come see me again sometime, ‘kay?” She chuckled, giggled even, and that glint in her eyes was enough to make you faint. 

She stood up, waiting for you to compose yourself and straighten everything out before she pushed open the now-unlocked door and peeked her head out.

Jordan was already on her as the door flew open, and you could hear his hushed nosiness as you hugged the wall and tried to act casual, eyes locked on her retreating back as she reentered the room, light haloing her. ‘So what happened?’ you swore his lips read, and your stomach dropped. But she cut through his questions, loud enough for you to hear, convincing enough that he wouldn’t have anything to run his mouth about later on. 

“Nothing man, we were just talking.”

Maybe she was actually just that charming. 

Yeah.

[beomiracles]

𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 TEASER

DREAM RECALL Perched on the sidewalk, knees tucked to his chest, Beomgyu leans his chin on top of his folded arms. Drawing in a small breath, you muster up the courage to do what you had come out here for. — He doesn’t say anything as you take a seat beside him, mimicking his actions by pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around them. You weren’t exactly good at comforting people, but you knew what sadness felt like, it was all you had been able to feel for three months when your mother passed. 

“You here to fuckin’ lecture me too?” He spits, his gaze is fixed on the asphalt road in front of him. Perhaps Beomgyu’s sadness was different from yours. You shake your head, though you’re unsure if he can even see it. And for a moment, everything is silent. There was a nervous feeling bubbling within your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of your small crush on him or because of the argument you just witnessed between him and his mom. The argument sounded stupid in your ears, and it got you wondering.. 

“Why do you hate your father?”

#serene adds ✎... no because I am so excited for this one !! It was originally supposed to be just like taboo smut but I got carried away and added lore >-< this will be a stepcest fic, if that makes you uncomfortable please refrain from reading ! I however am super happy with how the mc and Beomgyu is turning out in this one, and for those of you who plan to read it, I'm super stoked :3

[e-vay]

The Shadora Horde - 2023!

Here are all the ShadowXAurora kids I've made (so far hahaha!). As I always mention, I'm always open to Shadora fankids that you guys make. I can never have too many Shadora babies. I made changes to the original 5 so they're now closer in age and I also balanced out their powers more. Some of them were a little OP originally but I think I've fixed it. I have super detailed descriptions of each character below the cut!

PIPER

Birthday: 11/12 (1st Born)

Age: 16

Role: Leader

Powers: Combustion, Weapon Summoning

Weaknesses: Disorder

Dream Voice Actor: Brittany Snow

Theme Song: “Smile” - Wolf Alice

Piper is the first born in the first litter of Aurora and Shadow and is the natural leader of the group. She is generally sweet and respectful but is very proud of her pedigree so can be a little judgemental at times. She is a perfectionist to a fault and will become easily aggravated if things don’t go her way. Though she can be cocky, she is overall a caring and loving person and is quick to help those in need. Piper has naturally wild bangs and a large patch of fluffy fur on her chest. These traits drive her crazy! She always has her bangs pinned down to the side and her chest fur covered up. In her teen years she takes up motorcycle riding and it helps loosen her up and embrace her more wild side. 

Piper is capable of harnessing the power of the Chaos Emeralds to perform Chaos Blast and Chaos Control. Without the need for Chaos Emeralds, Piper has combustion powers. Piper can incinerate objects with a snap of her fingers. She has excellent mastery and precision of this skill. She was given the task to train Cinder to control his combustion powers, but the two tend to get frustrated with each other since control comes so naturally to Piper and it’s incredibly foreign to Cinder.

Piper is naturally drawn to Amy’s hammer wielding abilities and grows up admiring it. Though she isn’t allowed to use the Piko Piko Hammer, Amy trains her in good hammer-form with the use of props. IF Mammy Amy ever decides to retire, she will bequeath her hammer to Piper. The hammer’s design will change based on Piper’s personality.

-

ZANE

Birthday: 11/12 (2nd Born)

Age: 16

Powers: Super Speed

Weaknesses: Arachnophobia 

Dream Voice Actor: Robert Buckley

Theme Song: “We Are Young” - 3OH!3

Zane is the second born in the first litter of Aurora and Shadow. Zane is a daredevil and an extreme extrovert. He is most like his Pawpaw Sonic with his quick wit and high energy. He does not like emotional confrontations and will go out of his way to avoid uncomfortable situations. Even though he’s mostly easygoing, he butts heads with his dad a lot. 

Zane is a huge flirt and frequently develops intense crushes on people, but due to his short attention span, he’ll move on quickly (think Romeo with Rosaline). Zane is very fond of children and enjoys being the center of attention. Even though Piper is the leader of the group, the younger siblings tend to follow whatever Zane is doing. Lucky for Piper, he mostly listens to what she says.

Zane is capable of harnessing the power of the Chaos Emeralds to perform Chaos Control. Without the need for Chaos Emeralds, Zane has super speed. He wears special shoes that can transform based on his needs, but he prefers the motocross boot style when he’s not running.

For hobbies, Zane likes to do extreme stunts and attend/throw parties. He has dreams of being a DJ with his brother Nova. 

-

NOVA

Birthday: 11/12 (3rd Born)

Age: 16

Powers: Plasma (Ionikinetic Combat)

Weaknesses: Laziness

Dream Voice Actor: Josh Keaton

Theme Song: “Weirdo” - K.Flay

Nova is the third born in the first litter of Aurora and Shadow. He is very peaceful in nature and would rather find roundabout ways to solve problems than coming to blows (though he attributes this to knowing he would cream his opponent due to this strong bloodline). He’s a bit of an oddball but he embraces his quirkiness instead of being concerned about how others think of him. He often comes off as aloof and is rather lazy.

Nova is capable of harnessing the power of the Chaos Emeralds to perform Chaos Control. Without the need for Chaos Emeralds, Nova has plasma/Ionikenetic powers. He can shoot radioactive plasma at his enemies which can burn or dissolve material on impact. Nova does not like using his powers because they are so destructive. 

Nova is very close with his brother Zane and will go along with his schemes, even if his heart’s not entirely in it. He is artistic and tends to live a very messy, disheveled lifestyle. He loves to collect things and can be considered a packrat. 

-

ASTER

Birthday: 4/8 (4th born)

Age: 15

Powers: Telekinesis, Telepathy

Weaknesses: Codependency 

Dream Voice Actor: SungWon Cho [x]

Theme Song: “Despair and Traffic” - SOFT PLAY

Aster is the first born in the second litter of Aurora and Shadow. Though he seems rough on the surface, he’s actually the most academically intelligent of all his siblings. He is loud and passive aggressive but can appreciate the beauty in peace and quiet when he chooses. He is very theatrical and enjoys making a huge spectacle out of his battles, including saying poetic catchphrases and even coining the term “Prepare for the Blitz-Aster Disaster!” He is secretly a romantic at heart.

Aster is rarely seen without his sister Blitz. He is the brain to her brawn. Though he’s the more level-headed twin, Blitz’s dominant personality tends to direct their fighting strategies. He does not know how to be independent, which can be used against him.

Aster is capable of harnessing the power of the Chaos Emeralds to perform Chaos Control. Without the need for Chaos Emeralds, Aster shows early signs of telekinetic and telepathic abilities. He hasn’t mastered many techniques yet, but with some proper training it’s possible he could become a force to be reckoned with. If only Blitz would shut up for 5 minutes so he could concentrate!

Aster enjoys challenging mind games, like chess. 

-

BLITZ

Birthday: 4/8 (5th born)

Age: 15

Powers: Energy Blasts (“Chaos Spear”)

Weaknesses: Codependency, Impulsivity

Dream Voice Actor: Jessica DiCicco [x] [x] OR Chloë Grace Moretz [x]

Theme Song: “God Complex (Mojo)” - poutyface

Blitz is the second born in the second litter of Aurora and Shadow. Blitz is brash and forward but can be a little spacey. She has a short attention span and is easily bored. She considers fighting as a form of playing. She is very proud of herself and her heritage and isn’t afraid to namedrop to get her way. 

Blitz is rarely seen without her brother Aster. She is the brawn to his brain. Blitz’s dominant personality tends to direct their fighting strategies despite her brother’s concerns. She is very theatrical and enjoys making a huge spectacle out of her battles, including saying poetic catchphrases and even coining the term “Prepare for the Blitz-Aster Disaster!” She is very codependent and hates doing anything without Aster.

Blitz is capable of harnessing the power of the Chaos Emeralds to perform Chaos Control. Without the need for Chaos Emeralds, Blitz has the natural ability to perform Chaos Spear which can dagger her enemies with energy.

Blitz loves fashion and is a huge trendsetter. She would love to be a fashion designer if world domination doesn’t work out (She’s just kidding – relax already!)

-

Cinder

Birthday: 2/18 (6th born)

Age: 14

Powers: Combustion, Stellar Tantrum

Weaknesses: Migraines, Short Temper

Dream Voice Actor: Michael Daingerfield [x] [x]

Theme Song: “Tantrum” - Ashnikko

Cinder is the first born in the third litter of Aurora and Shadow. He has a very short temper and is incredibly impatient. He is the most like his father in that he is not very talkative and would rather be left alone than socialize with others. His outbursts of rage can often be used to his enemies’ advantage by being misdirected to his siblings and teammates. He is also terrified of himself, which makes him constantly on edge. 

Cinder is NOT capable of using Chaos Emeralds and instead has to rely on his natural abilities. Cinder has combustion powers, but unlike his sister Piper, his powers are based solely on his emotions so he has a very hard time commanding the direction and radius of his blasts. Piper was tasked with training Cinder to better manage his combustion powers, but the two tend to get frustrated with each other since control comes so naturally to Piper and it’s incredibly foreign to Cinder. When Cinder goes into a blinding rage, his fur and eyes change color and sparks of energy will fire off randomly around him. When in this form, he can perform a move called “Stellar Tantrum.” This move is highly destructive and will incinerate any and all objects nearby. He has absolutely no control over this power once it’s unleashed.

As a child, Cinder was more outgoing but still prone to crying outbursts. However, during one particular fight with his sister Diamond, he accidentally unleashed a Stellar Tantrum and severely burned her. Luckily Boon was able to use his healing powers to reverse it, but Cinder has never forgiven himself and has never been the same ever since. Cinder requested a special Inhibitor necklace be made to help dampen his powers, but it’s not very effective. It works more as a placebo than anything else. He keeps everyone at a distance whenever possible and thinks there’s something evil in him, despite his parents’ reassurances. 

Cinder doesn’t like to discuss his hobbies, but he actually loves baking and reading books.

-

DIAMOND

Birthday: 2/18 (7th Born)

Age: 14

Role: Tank

Powers: Brute Strength

Weaknesses: Poor eyesight, Light sensitivity

Dream Voice Actor: Kimberly Brooks [x] [x] [x]

Theme Song: “Cleopatra” - Nova Twins

Diamond is the second born in the third litter of Aurora and Shadow. She has a sweet disposition and is very polite, even to her opponents. However, she can be a smart ass at times and is quick to make jokes. She is highly dedicated to physical training but outside of the gym she’s very easy-going. Diamond was born with Oculocutaneous albinism. Due to her albinism and nystagmus, she is sensitive to light and has very poor eyesight. As a baby and toddler, Diamond mostly clung to Aurora whenever outdoors as she could bend the light around Diamond and protect her from UV rays. As Diamond got older and grew more independent, Tails’ Workshop crafted a special brooch that acts as a light shield when activated. Diamond never leaves home without it.

Diamond is NOT capable of using Chaos Emeralds and instead has to rely on her natural abilities. She has incredible strength and is physically the strongest of all her relatives. 

As a child, she and her brother Cinder got into a fight where he accidentally unleashed a Stellar Tantrum and severely burned her. Luckily Boon was able to use his healing powers to reverse it. She has completely forgiven Cinder and has never held it against him, but he continues to be distant with her to this day.

She enjoys training in the Shadora Home Gym to better perfect her fighting skills and she is almost always found sporting earbuds so she can listen to her favorite punk rock and metal bands.

-

Boon

Birthday: 2/18 (8th Born)

Age: 14

Role: Support

Powers: Healing, Mood-Boosting

Weaknesses: People-pleasing

Dream Voice Actor: Ben Schwartz [x] ← Please watch this whole interview, it will leave you grinning ear-to-ear the whole way through

Theme Song: “Smile” - Dami Im

Boon is the third born in the third litter of Aurora and Shadow. Boon is the embodiment of a ray of sunshine and has 10000% charisma. He genuinely loves everyone he meets and enjoys putting smiles on people’s faces. Boon is very silly and has a very childish sense of humor. He also has a lot of energy and has a habit of rambling without realizing it.

Boon is NOT capable of using Chaos Emeralds and instead has to rely on his natural abilities. He has incredible healing abilities and can heal the wounded, but it takes a lot of energy from him so can only do so much at a time. He cannot revive the dead. Boon also has a “mood-boosting” ability, where he can positively affect the emotions of others. This can only be done by making direct contact with someone and the effect only lasts temporarily. Boon’s powers positively affected Aurora’s pregnancy, making her third litter the easiest and stress free of all her pregnancies (Thank you, Boon!)

Boon wears special rocket boots so he can quickly fly to anyone in battle who needs assistance. His boots have a button on the heel to activate them, and he likes to click his heels together to turn them on. Though he never complains about his duties, Aurora often worries about Boon’s need to please others and reminds him that he can’t help others if he doesn’t help himself. Aurora and Boon are the most alike of all her children as both are prone to singing outbursts, goofy jokes and harmless pranks to make people laugh.

—

All Shadora kids are mortal and did not inherit Shadow’s immortality. However, they do heal faster than the average Mobian.

—

Want to get more of a feel for the Shadora kids? I've made a Spotify playlist dedicate to their theme songs, songs that make me think of them, or general music they would listen to. You can listen to it here, but be warned it contains explicit songs.

—

A NOTE ABOUT SHADOW’S “AGE”

Shadow is immortal so therefore he doesn’t age. However it’s been long debated in my Shadora stories whether or not he will give up his immortality to live a normal life with his family. I have him in these drawings as still being immortal, especially because I like the angst and challenges that comes with (ex: how are your rebellious teenagers supposed to respect you when they are seemingly “older” than you?) but I haven’t actually decided when he will decide to be mortal. 

BUT if you ever draw me fanart or write me fanfics and you want to have become mortal at an earlier point in his life I’m totally cool with that! I’m flexible.

[bilboyagathechickenfootedhobbit]

The whole public sex discourse is insane. But what goes beyond insane into heart-dropping, what the fuck where did we go wrong territory is this attitude of ‘who cares if kids see? They’ll be having sex one day eventually.’ Like???? Yeah, most likely they will. My six year old kid will one day drive an automobile. Does that mean I should just give him the keys this morning and let him drive himself to school? I mean, he’s going to drive EVENTUALLY, right? By that same token, I should also just give him a tumbler of whiskey and let him take a drag off a cigarette; I mean, he’ll probably try these things one day ANYWAY, may as well be today, right? And since he’s going to learn what sex is, why not invite one of his little friends over and show them how to fuck one another?

Oh wait, does that make you uncomfortable now? The idea of two six year olds being encouraged to have sexual intercourse? DOES THAT SEEM WEIRD??? Why?? I mean, they’re going to do it one day anyway, WHY NOT NOW??? Why NOT get your six year old wasted and zooted and teach them how to properly fuck?? Does that make you feel weird? What are you? Some lame-o virgin who doesn’t know how to party? Weak sauce. See, I happen to be a super cool edge-lord sex god who has had ALL THE SEX and therefore don’t care if anyone sees anyone having sex. Since I, the ultimate Sex Lord, have definitely already had sex it is now appropriate for every single human on earth, regardless of age or anything, to witness anyone else having sex. I mean, I’M okay with it, so therefore everyone else has to be okay with it.

I cannot believe that at the exact same time on this hell site, we have a post going around threatening to kill adults for listening to TikTok’s on full volume in public and a post going around saying everyone is SUPES COOL with people just fucking wherever they feel like in public. So this site is more offended by auditory disruption than literal sex crimes being perpetrated against them.

Make it make sense.

[ranger-ribbons]

General Ranger Headcanons

Ranger Teams are protective of their youngest members and their Reds. Sometimes, this does coincide, but for the most part, the youngest and the Red are separate people

Red Rangers generally have zero self-preservation instincts, either because of trauma or daredevil personalities

Blue Rangers can be the 'tech wiz', but generally, they're just extremely intelligent

Rangers all have a pretty solid relationship with gender and pronouns. Mostly because they see and fight aliens literally every day and have decided they have Bigger Things to worry about

Reds, Yellows, and Blues are usually always there on the Ranger teams, so it's common for them to be close

Rangers have a list that they pass down to the younger teams. This list details little things like how to help give each other strength to what pain medications can help the aches and pains go away fastest, because yes the suits take most of the blows, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt later

Some Rangers have PTSD, some have anxiety, some have depression. There are, in fact, numbers of former-Ranger therapists that the Rangers all know by heart

Teams don't really drift apart, they stick together because who else is gonna understand what it's like to witness the people you hang around daily almost die every other week?

Rangers drift toward other Rangers. It's due to the Morphin' Grid power they've been imbued with and the Morphin' Grid's pull to itself

There's a point in every Ranger's fight that shift-sleeping becomes the norm amongst teams. It's to stop nightmares, but also because of the paranoia that strikes when you're in fight or flight mode too long

Rangers from space or space-adjacent stick together

Rangers in general stick together, always. Where one Ranger is, another is typically not far behind. Some teams go so far as to get houses together, others just in the same neighborhood or town. Never far from each other, and never away for too long

The Power will never, can never abandon its chosen people. Once it makes its choices, it will not deviate. It doesn't stop looking out for its chosen ones either. Once you've bonded to the Morphin' Grid, you're stuck for life, regardless of being active or not

In Universe, people write fanfiction about the Rangers. Yes, they read it, sometimes they even like it. (Megaforce and down in particular find it hilarious)

The scone the Rangers find out about their Super Sentai counterpart shows, it's on. Some find them hilarious, some find them uncomfortable, but it's all in good fun for all of them

A list of common triggers is passed around to the Ranger teams, including but not limited to: loud noises, bugs, fog, robotic voices/static

Some of the Rangers (especially those who've been fighting for years) get therapy animals

Rangers have problems connecting to people who aren't Rangers or don't know about Rangers. Similar to military or police or doctors, Rangers are never truly off unless they're inactive and even then, it's a roll of the dice as to if they'll be pulled back in. Most of them have been doing this since they were teens, so they never truly got a chance. Preston Tien, Ninja Steel Blue, once described the experience as "playing with a half-deck whilst the other decks are rigged against you" and most of the other Rangers agreed

Every Ranger knows the pain of Nightmares, which is a big part of the reason shift-sleeping became so common amongst teams. Sleeping disorders are also common, which is not easy for the Rangers to deal with. When you're trained from a young age to be fighters and saviors of the planet, you don't walk away without trauma

Rangers who've gone Evil (or started Evil) and come back to the side of Good have each other's direct lines, Tommy Oliver, Karone, Trent Fernandez-Mercer, etc, all of them share a similar fear of suddenly turning evil again

Rangers do not like Zordon for his express need to put teenagers into a war that isn't even their's