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vyzz-undercover · 3 months ago

Text

pspspsps dinner time everyone

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(5,700ish words) (im cooked)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon [again]

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions of virginity

•vague breathplay

•even more negligible aftercare

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•tumblr's pisspoor formatting as per last time

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im once again doing a free magic show here and pulling a rabbit (this fic) out my ass. so, without further a-do the tagging... @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @pluvio-tea, @the-raven-lady, @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @lemon-russ. let me know if anyone else wanna be tagged if i do a part three HAHAHAHHAHA i might double down on the comedy-of-errors and have Guilliman get involved. Not like a three-way with this particular fic, even if I'd love to slut papa smurf out. There's always another time and another chance to sexualise an old man :3

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Cato finds you relatively easily.

Truthfully, you make no actual sport of it. But he's never going to pass up a cheap bit of entertainment at your expense.

At this time of the ship's cycle you're most likely to be in the east wing, pointedly the lower libraries. He knows this. He won't confess why or how he knows, though—so, fuck off.

You're lazy and predictable. To say nothing of the fact you're far too comfortable scuttling about his Father's vessel. If a hypothetical assassin ever could get onto the ship without being stomped into paste by him immediately, they'd have no problems tracking you down. You may as well be a sevitor running on rails for all your movements stay the same.

He notes you're not on the first level.

Nor the second.

You are on the third, in the leftmost quadrant.

In the restricted reading area.

You do have clearance—but the fact still irks him. Typically, this was for his more decorated brothers to catalogue Xenos. Typically, one needed to be accompanied to even access this level.

But oh, no—no, you're allowed.

You're allowed because you are a damnable leach of a woman. And also the bane of his existence, did he mention that? And you're—you're—tucked up in secure side-room, reading on a data-slate; half-asleep in a little blue robe and looking the pict of adorable sloth.

You don't notice him immediately.

Clearly too absorbed in your gerrymandering-for-servitors cheat-sheet.

And that annoys him even more.

Because, are you really that obtuse? So unassailable in your own mind that you're this blatantly fucking oblivious? He's an Astartes, damn it. Sure, he's in casual rest attire instead of clanking plate—but he's a large, two-and-a-bit meter tall trans-human war-machine standing in the doorway—and you haven't even noticed him. Ignorant like some little rodent chewing away at crumbs in it's hovel.

His Father's got a vermin problem on board, and the mice are stupid and bold and literate... along with rather cozy, apparently.

A finely woven navy throw is swaddled around you where you're lying on the chaise lounge. And the sight of you bundled up inspires a vivid déjà-vu of the last time you were alone with him with little more than a blanket over you.

Cato hesitates for a heartbeat, swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and sets his jaw.

He steps into the room and waves a hand over the laser-pad locking mechanism.

There's a fractional second in which you become cognisant to the sound of the shutter door closing and where you actively notice him.

Then there's a shrill scream as if you've pinched a nerve.

The data-slate goes flying, pelted at his head. But it hits the shutter door and clatters to the floor, far-off any hint of a good mark.

Useless woman.

Realising it's him a moment later, you heave out a racketing sigh.

"Throne of Terra, Ca—" you start, and it sounds like you're going to say his first name before you rightly correct yourself and say, "C-Commander, you scared me half to death."

He immediately sets about accosting you, "Have you been sitting here with the door open this whole time?"

"No," you nip out.

"You are aware that I can tell when you're lying?"

"I'm certain you can," your tone flattens in a way he's only ever heard you talk to particularly sleazy representatives with. It's not an honest exchange, it's double-speak. It's mocking. You're mocking him.

He grits his teeth.

You've grown more open in your defiance towards him as of late, certainly not because of any revelation or reason and it rubs him in a dangerous, new way. He's not about to let it slide, either.

"Is that so?" His words are sharp and accusative and he hopes—he hopes he'll get the delight of watching you cower like you usually do when confronted by him. "Have you been lying to me often, then?"

Half his hopes come true. You look away nervously and mumble something almost inaudibly, and he'd not have noticed if not for his far superior hearing.

It was, "...maybe," and all Cato can help but do being himself, is detonate.

"And what have you been deceiving me of, you scheming little whore?" He snarls, fuming—a dozen crimes and sins crowding his mind you might be tried for. Maybe he's been far too lenient to the actual reality of your evil. Finally, validation to corroborate his deviation—maybe you'll admit you're some Slanneshi fleshchanger, and that you intended to have burrowed so deep in his mind.

Nonetheless, you're nowhere near even close to fast enough to defend yourself. But it's not like he gives you the chance.

He's crossed the distance with a practiced speed. And quicker than you can even yelp, you are pinned to the lounge—a shackle in the form of his fist around your smaller throat.

The pressure is a limp handshake by his standards. You're not really choking. Just stifled slightly for good measure.

Still, it'd be a mere flex to break your neck. He could snap you like a stylus with what was to him, ultimately, nothing but a simple twitch of his fingers. And he would think more about the blatant contrasts between you both much longer if he wasn't far too distracted by the fact you even struggle prettily wantonly. Big eyes wide and glossy with animal panic. Involuntary tears gather at the corners as you register what's going on at last. The mad temptation to lick them if they so much as dare trail down your cheeks begins eating at him.

Some rational part of his rational mind reminds him he can't get the truth out of you when he's vaguely throttling you, though—and he lets you go begrudgingly. Instead opting for looming over you as you roll sidelong on the couch, breathing fast.

He crouches down to your level and grumbles, still absorbed in his raging.

"Speak," he barks, and pointedly grabs you by the chin.

"I–I hadn't actually—" you start, breathless as you mumble. "Actually, uh, laid with anyone, even though I nodded I sort of... had."

He's staggered at the statement, "...that's it?"

A vague lie of omission, but it's not the great corruption he sought to root out.

Then he actually thinks about what you've just admitted.

Like fog banished under a rising sun, his anger at the thought of treachery immediately dissipates into blistering revelation.

"Hold on, you..." Cato starts, baffled and completely knocked for a six, meeting your gaze slowly—genuinely stunned as he pulls his hand back fully. "I... I was the first?"

You look away cursorily, face reddening not only with your previous strains, but with embarrassment.

Now, that was the reaction of a guilty conscience.

Cato doesn't know what to do with the information. Nor does he really know what he feels.

He'd been the first. He feels like he's won something over his brothers. Therefore, fuck the lot of them—and fuck Titus, specifically. Even if he's not sure why. He truly couldn't believe it. There's success, sure—but then there's taking the laurels: whole and absolute. And this... this is exactly that. But oh, for some apparently vestal thing, you'd let him bully down to the hilt in your tight cunt; whining like a whore when he spilled himself inside you. Throne, it was almost suffocating to think back on it now. So willing to have your maidenhead taken, nevermind the fact you weren't the only one who'd had a new experience that day. But you didn't need to know that.

"Another notch to my mantel of victories then," he ultimately decides is the best thing to say, gloating to himself.

"Unbelievable," you sigh softly as you shakily sit yourself up.

But there's the problem again. The one tangible, constant problem with having laid you. It's made you mouthy. He only ever glimpsed your boldness when you interacted with other baselines in the past. You never sassed Astartes, or at least, he's never seen you do it. But now that stubbornness and unwillingness to back down in a political forum is on full display heedless of situation. As if you've suddenly become one of the auto-felating Imperial Fists—or any of Dorn's insufferable ball-busting scions, really. Worst of all, it's only managed to somehow make him even more enthralled annoyed with you than usual. You're still too good at quashing your anger, hard as it is to rouse. But he loves loathes that you bite the lure instead of shying off now.

"To think that I was the first—is your entire professional role not centred around charm? Would no one else have you with that rotten attitude you've been hiding?" he says, knowing he's being nasty, knowing he's twisting the knife; and absolutely praying for you to fall for it.

Cato watches a rainbow of emotions pass over your features, before you settle on one that makes you look like you ate something sour. He's hit a weak spot. But the sentiment holds true. His Primarch thinks you the best and brightest to sway planets? You couldn't even seduce some daft, drunken aristocratic fool to fuck you.

You, the prettiest baseline he's ever seen.

...maybe Guilliman is right in saying the Imperium has rolled belly-up with bloat.

"That's not—that's not why and you know it," you open your mouth and jumble your words briefly before getting out, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who won't have a panic attack because of the several Astartes that insist on following you around?" You continue, raving and flustered, "Do you think anyone would get near me with you—or—or... maybe Captain Acheran, or the good Chaplain, let's say, breathing over my shoulder?"

"You should be grateful any of us waste our time babysitting you," Cato oafishly shoots back like a petulant child, brows furrowing, "You should be thanking me for doing the brunt of it."

Your nose scrunches up, "Pardon me, Commander, it's surely entirely my fault that we are both at the whims of our Lord Primarch."

He pauses.

Something about this interaction isn't stirring his temper like it should.

He should be absolutely livid with anger, or at the very least blowing your eardrums out with a 'shut the fuck up,' at full Astartesian line-command volume.

Yes, he should be seething, and yet he's not. To his surprise, he's actually feeling more enthused than anything.

This feels... exciting, almost.

"You've only grown the backbone to talk back to me because I fucked one into you," he remarks sharply in reply.

You sputter, and go red, robbed of your words.

"Or maybe this is mere performance," He adds with a sneer, tipping his chin up proudly.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic puff of air, "Y-You're such a..." you start, but your voice tapers off—and you look away, pouting.

"I'm a... what?" He taunts, leaning close.

You grumble, apparently feeling brave again; meeting his gaze and puffing yourself up.

"You're a bully," you hiss, clearly upset but undeniably frazzled enough to be somewhat ranting again as you add, "A bully w-who's so disgustingly egotistical you've convinced yourself you're some great conqueror or... something... j-just for having been in me, as if I've never put anything in myself before."

Oh, but wait, Cato likes the idea of that. He likes it so much he completely forgets to acknowledge the insults in your statement prior. He likes the idea of you suffering like he had been—alone, yearning—aching for something you didn't know the dizzying reality of. He can imagine you smothering your sounds, those blessed whines he's got memorised, into a pillow in that cushy little quarters of yours, squirming on your meagre fingers, or maybe cold silicon. You didn't need that lesser imitation now. Cato'd gladly fill that role. He'd gladly fill that hole, too.

Nonetheless, he immediately wonders who you were getting off thinking about.

He'd streak the length of the ship for it to've been him you'd been fucking yourself over.

"Who were you thinking of?"

You blink at the completely offhanded question, then start sputtering, stalling.

"What? I-I—" you stammer, "That's not important or relevant—I just... did it, it's—"

"Keep lying and see where it gets you," He cuts in, raking you with an aggravated frown, and oh, excellent, you're starting to relearn he's not fond of your half-truthing, finally.

You duck your head a little, cringing under his gaze, trying to scoot yourself backwards. But there's nowhere to go.

Cato realises belatedly that in the middle of your antics, the sleeve of your robe has started to fall from your shoulder. His brain short-circuits momentarily with the sheer amount of air that floods his head. Your warm, soft skin on display just for him. He didn't get to see all of you last time. He felt a good portion of you, yes—but he didn't get the chance to admire acknowledge the whole vista. Not because he was too desperate to rut against to try. Or because he was probably going to swoon like a fool if he did. Shut up, he's no coward. Afterall, his hands had been close to your chest, but now—now he can actually look.

He's going to absolutely ruin that lovely canvas you've given him.

"Nobody," you say softly.

"Groxshit," he snaps.

"Fine—" You swallow and start scrambling for a response, "Malum C-Caedo."

Cato genuinely cannot help but bark a laugh at that, "Spare me, you haven't even met the man, moron—you're only saying that because your most recent reading was on his last briefing," he rolls his eyes. "You forgot I was there with Guilliman when you were given it."

You look at him like a cornered little mouse, and finally—finally, your sleeve falls just enough that he's given a perfect view of one of your tits.

"You already..." you grumble softly. "You already know who, then, so I shouldn't even have to dignify this."

"It's me, isn't it?" He asks darkly, and while he tries to sound haughty, the fact he's thrilled by both the notion and the sight of your partial nudity ends up warping his tone into a vaguely manic chuff.

You glance aside and stammer loudly, "N-No."

No, you say—but he hears your little heart flutter. And sees your pupils dilate.

"I hope you're aware you can't lie to save your life," Cato drawls.

Your gaze snaps back to his, and for a brief second, your expression is flushed with embarrassment; until it changes to a sour little scowl.

"I'm not a bad liar, you're just an Astartes—" you start furiously, but check your flustered anger.

Cato smirks.

It's not a completely clean victory, but it's good.

It means his own lusting madness is at least reciprocally vindicated.

And at that realisation, Cato's impulse control violently loses balance; and he's painfully aware he cannot, for the life of him, contain the hungered almost purr-like sound that crawls up his throat.

You go back to looking transfixed at that, and he pauses.

There's something... pulling him in even more than before. He feels as if he's taken the bait, and the hook, and the line and sinker—hell, he's taken a good bit of the rod, too. Everything's a little too heated, and he's got an innate, intuitive feeling you're just as wound up as he is—wait. He breathes in deep and slow, and scents the air. Throne, he may as well have been cold-clocked at the temple by a Dreadnaut for all the innate information he suddenly receives. You're quite frankly drenched in want. You're getting off on this. Smothering him in a dizzying biological chant of hormones that scream—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He leans close, and puts a hand on the arm-rest; the other palm slowly moving towards your chest.

Your eyes follow it—but you voice no complaints nor rejections.

Justified now, he's ecstatic. And your skin is as perfect to the touch as he remembers.

His hand looks huge compared to the breast cupped in it, idly toying with the consistency of the flesh in his grasp. It's much softer and malleable than he thought it'd be. Almost like a water-skin. Thumb depressing your right nipple, before drawing a thoughtless circle.

You sigh lightly and relax a bit, and Cato takes that as another open invitation.

He uses the same hand to tug away the fabric from your other shoulder.

Quick as anything, he's practically stuffing his face against you without any real warning, ignoring your flinch at his haste. Cato's letting the urges he'd withheld in that wretched shack out. And it's so worth the wait. He groans, licks a fat band over your left breast, and worries at the perked little bud with his teeth until you're squirming; only to drag his attention up to nip at your fragile throat.

You're breathing hard, and you open your mouth as if about to speak—but ever spiteful, Cato rewards your attempt with the drag of his tongue and the press of his teeth; and that promptly shuts you up. The faint salt on your skin isn't half bad of a thing either, honestly. He rather likes it. It tastes like how you smell—and he's absolutely luxuriating in it. It makes it all the easier to map your chest from the curve of your breast to your collarbones, garnishing you with eager drags of his tongue and mouth-wrought bruises.

And now you're glorious. The marks on your skin are vivid—he's guaranteed you won't be wearing anything showy for a good while. No lovely vile plunging necklines for you to display to bastard dignitaries. Not unless you want to explain why they're Cato Sicarius sized. They'll also be a good reminder to you of exactly who's superior.

You're still too dazed by his efforts to realise the extent of his actions, but he knows exactly how hot and bothered it's made you. That honeyed reek of arousal is driving him insane.

Urged on, he digs a hand down and around your back and drags you off the lounge. Manoeuvring to turn so his back rests against the lip of the lounge, nigh dumping you before him on the rug.

"W-Why...?" You blink, stunned for a second before righting yourself and meeting his eyes. Cato's sat himself cross-legged, before letting them unfold, one tenting and the other splaying out.

"I did all the work last time," he starts impatiently, and leans up to grab you by the forearm; bringing your hand close close to the cradle of his hips, "Now it's your turn to do something for once."

...Cato's not sure you're actually listening, because he could've bet his helm you'd've become irate at that statement if you were. That, and you're glaring between his thighs.

Ironically, he also almost instantaneously finds he doesn't really care to continue the train of thought. Not when you trace the engorged bulge of him through the folds of his tunic. Groping at the base, before smoothing your palm to the rounded tip.

There's no accursed buttons between him and the open this time, thankfully—and that means he can simply tug aside the folds of his layered tunic and bare himself from the belly down.

His cock lays fat and heavy with blood, smearing precum as it moves from his navel to leftward on his hip when he straightens up.

You're staring.

He scoffs at your apprehension and says, "Alternatively, perhaps you can—"

A soft, "Shhh," leaves you.

He snorts like a big, angry stock horse, brow raised. No baseline, regardless of rank, would dare treat Cato like this; none would dare even think to treat to him like this. Except you now, apparently. You forget your station, your place. Making demands of an Astartes is nowhere near your clearance. Your best option is to implore, not command. Yours is to nod your pretty thick head and smile your fair rotten little smile and obey your betters.

"Did—did you just shush me, woman?" Cato's nigh instantly consumed by a rush of anger at the sheer audacity, sneering. "In what reality do you think you've any right to shush me? I'm Commander of the Victrix Honor Guard, Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of—"

Of... of something.

Suddenly your insolence is inconsequential to him. All that matters is the smooth glide of your dainty hand on his cock, and the sight of your thumb and pointer being unable to wrap around and meet given how thick he is.

You look up at him slowly for a second, before your focus returns to apparently sussing out how best to saddle him. It's a timid gesture, like you're anticipating overstepping—you're cautious.

He's about to remind you of the fact you've taken him before, so Cato's proven he fits and all this coyness of yours is arbitrary. But he guesses the point is moot when you're suddenly already stradling his hips.

With one small hand finding a place on his stomach, and the other holding his cock straight beneath the obscurity of your garbs, he feels you lower yourself enough to make contact; testing before offering a little more urgency.

With an agonisingly careful roll of your pelvis, the head of his cock catches against the soft ring of muscle at your entrance for a second.

He grumbles despite himself.

He can't watch his cock sink into you like last time thanks to the curtain of your robe, but at least he can certainly feel every millimeter of it happening.

Tight heat feels like a death shroud over his mind as he draws a blank on anything else.

And finally—finally he's stuffed down to the hilt—and oh, he's filled you to your end just like the last time. Throne, he's drunk off the spongy heat the thick head of cock is squared right up against.

This position's made your cunt just that bit shorter inside thanks to gravity.

You whimper, clearly trying desperately not to start shaking.

You start shaking anyways.

He's fascinated by the small, restless palms now pressed flat and trying to find a counterpoint on his broad, tunic'd chest. Soft and un-calloused aside from the small bump of a pen's rest on your writing hand. Everything about you is warm and soft. Inside and out, you're all his.

He exhales harshly through his nose and blinks, gaze shifting from your hands to your tits, then to your face.

You wear an even more flushed expression now, overwhelmed, with all your focus on him.

Right where it always should be.

"Hurry up," he grunts sharply.

You swallow hard, and promptly drop your gaze.

You, surprisingly, manage to lift yourself up despite your theatrics. And, little by little, he watches you strain up until just the tip of him is still buried in you.

Angling yourself, you keen, carefully sinking back down on his cock and reeling at the stretch again as you settle, ass meeting his dense quads with a soft plomf.

He can see you biting back a moan, pointless as the act is.

"Keep going," Cato grits out, "I didn't tell you to stop."

You frown halfheartedly, and your insides clench around him despite yourself.

You start a slow rhythm, the noise of colliding skin on skin echoes in his ears. Slick friction, and fucked-out, half-stifled cries. Your pace quickening. Riding him. Using him at your own leisure, like the precious wretched little thing you are. You repeat the same dizzying motion again and again, and again—rising and sinking—up, down, up, down; until it's clear you've found an angle that hits something just right, sending you over the edge with a rattling gasp.

A low groan crawls up the back of Cato's throat and slips free without restraint.

He's barely able to cope through the tight squeeze of your orgasm around his cock; but he steels himself, winning the fight to not spill in you right then and there at that. No small thanks to the furious couple hours he'd spent earlier in the simulated night cycle furiously attending his urges.

His calloused mitt can hardly compete with the nigh painfully silken clench of you. And the view—Throne, to simply watch is a level of spectacle he can't even put into words. It's nothing short of hypnotic seeing your face soften with fucked-out delight—he can't believe he'd ever thought it was good the first time around when he hadn't even seen you meet your end.

You stop suddenly, seated to the hilt, trembling and oversensitive—grinding back and forth, nails digging into his pectorals through his tunic.

"Just... n-need t'catch my breath..." You whimper, and that debauched tone wreaks havoc through his mind. An unceasing urge to pound you to tears overtaking what little sense he has left. It's the ravenous fact that you, the little parchment-pushing temptress, are all tuckered out from cumming on him so quickly. He's preening at the fact he feels that good to you—oh, he's going to send you limping back to your quarters.

He wants to watch you break.

"You lazy little cunt, you can't do a thing right, can you?" Cato groans, your thighs twitching as he lifts you by the hips and makes you sink back down.

He gets the treat of seeing your eyes swim back in your skull, dumb with sensation.

Lulled by the reedy, oversexed moans slipping from you with each motion; and he can't help but start thrusting up, matching pace.

"Hardly even four and a half minutes—and you're a mess, absolutely useless." He heaves, dropping you to full-hilt for a second to manoeuvre you better. You're nigh but a gasping dead-weight, delirious.

If you're going to act the entitled bitch, he'll screw you into something alike submission. Which is exactly why he's then pulling out, shoving you against the lounge on your back; and moving your thighs to bracket his hips as he half kneels on the rug. Just to slide himself back inside, balls-deep in willing flesh. The only dignity he affords you then is the space to wrap your arms around and behind his shoulders. Which you rightly do without demand.

Hold on, was the unspoken order.

Then he's fucking you into the lounge like his life depends on it. He's glad to notice it's bolted down, but the damned thing creaks—nonetheless, he can barely even hear it over the perfect sounds you're making.

Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, barely holding back the noises that choke his own gullet.

"You're so damn lucky you're a nice tight hole," he rasps harshly, "That's all you're good for, hm? For me to fill?"

There's a gutting sort of beauty in the way you're looking up at him with open desperation. He's trying so hard not to fall victim to the siren call of it, but it's perfect vile and he can't help but fold. He'd kill for that look to never leave your face when your eyes fell on him.

"Fuck, I must be in your womb at this rate—would you like that? My load in your womb?" Cato says between a great lungful of air, only to start huffing madly to himself when you nod drunkenly. "Good, because that's exactly where i-it's going."

Mind reeling with every resounding sticky slap of his balls against you, paired with scorching wet slide of him pumping in and out of you. You're crying, all your sensibilities lost in the thorough pace he's ploughing into you with; trying to pull him in by tugging at his shoulders, but with your meagre strength it's merely a vague suggestion.

Still, he leans into it, if only to finally seize the chance to lap the tears off your cheek, and you sob; trying to turn nose to nose with him. Your pathetic pawing at his broad back only exacerbates the overwhelming urgency in his blood.

He's so close.

Bliss crests up like a tide inside him, building and building, stunned with how it makes him buck into you. He's dazed in a way he surely wasn't designed to be resilient against. He can't even shut his damn mouth to stop moaning—and only technically manages to do so when you cover it with your own the very second he's about to finish; your legs squeezing impotently down on his hips, trembling through another climax.

His nerves light up like an orbital barrage, body rocking against the pretty, willing thing below him that you are. He has no idea what's going on beyond that. Are you kissing him? Is that what you're doing? Half his brain is stunned by the idea and the other half is flooded by the rushes of pleasure in his system making his tendons cramp, ravaging him with the sound of his hearts thudding in his ears.

Working himself right into agony; he's tensing against you as he empties himself as deep as he can. His pace finally breaks pattern and staccatos as his mind leadens.

Lulled by the molten satisfaction that swamps him soon thereafter, Cato blindly tries to chase forward and keep your lips on his. Emphasis on tries. He thinks he likes it, foreign as the sensation and sentiment is. He's got his tongue in your mouth, but no real clue what to do beyond lapping further in like a man dying of thirst—and then, of course, you decide to start weakly thrashing for air, blunt teeth grazing against the invading muscle—so, with a miffed groan; he pulls away, drooling as he slumps front-long against you and the lounge with a rumbling sigh, letting his eyes close as he basks in the afterglow.

You're panting still, nosing against the nape of his neck—likely having difficulty respiring under his weight—but despite that, you're still twitching around his spent cock, just like last time.

Wistfully, he wonders if he could sleep with you stuffed full of him like this. Slotted together and absolutely buried in your cunt; reaming you out as far as your small frame will allow. He enjoys the idea of that, and of holding you close.

He listens meditatively as your breathing steadily evens out, a soft in-out rhythm he can hear start in your chest only to feel warmly dancing across his collarbone a moment later.

Your small hand glides up the back of his trapezoid and combs through the short hair at his crown.

He shivers almost immediately at the act, thoughts clouding. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, now. He can't really bring himself to do anything. He's locked in. It's like he's been sedated, or scruffed about the neck. Then your fingers trace the bare skin behind his ear, and he snaps from the trance enough to crack an eye open to glance down.

"Don't push your luck," he bites out automatically and leers away.

You immediately stiffen, and lurch yourself back—seemingly completely confused.

He's not exactly sure why he reacted that way either, but he's certainly not going to address it.

Ultimately, he opts to pull his cock out of you with scant decorum rather than linger on the topic. Then he settles into a kneel as he eyes the soaked-in stain below the bunched-up fabric of your robe.

"Well," he snorts.

And damn, it's difficult to hold a straight face at the overdramatic, painfully oblivious pout you shoot him.

So, Cato just continues watching you with a cruel sort of satisfaction as you sit yourself up shakily, and realise the mess.

You blanch, promptly shutting your legs and fussing—your ass is half stuck to the fabric of the lounge by your own slick and his spent when you move to stand on shaky, unsure legs.

He's aware of the fact you're after something to wipe away the aftermath. But he's far too content observing you struggle for the moment. Pleased, even. Especially when he's treated to the cringing gasp that slips from you when his semen no doubt starts dripping down your thighs.

You're panicking within seconds. He can hear your heartbeat quickening, plus the acrid tang of baseline stress hormones pervading the room.

There's nothing to spare. Unless you want to leave another smear across the lounge cushioning, but he doubts you'd go so low. He, however, has no such reservations—and yanks the plush velour padded square up to wipe his cock off. It's not as if he wasn't going to toss it down one of the incinerator shafts on the library's second floor anyways.

"Do—" you begin softly, but amend yourself, "Would y-you have anything... to..."

He stares at you, brows furrowed.

Floundering now, you waddle close and swallow harshly.

"To... wipe this up?" You finish, barely a whisper. He can tell you're sour at the fact you're stroking his ego and essentially too full of him to go anywhere.

Cato scoffs, holding up the seating cushion, "What? Too spoilt to use this?"

You cringe at him, "People have sat on that—hundreds of people, probably. I-I don't have your immunity to infection."

Cato cedes on that point at least, because he assumes being a baseline is hell. And so very not his problem, too.

Completely out of left field, comes the temptation to lick you clean. His mulish hind-brain reasons it's a brilliant idea, namely because you'd likely be squirming for him again. Even if he has no real idea of what to do beyond that. Lap at your clit, probably—he's not actually done any of this before except—well, except just slamming into you. He has the basic gist of all of this from biologis graphics and pornographic motionpicts. Yes, the latter are technically contraband on Ultramarine chapter vessels—Throne, he actually remembers when that was put into force. He was still green behind the ears when that'd happened. But those specific brothers had displayed it for abstract amusement, not... it's intended purpose—rather: 'Lo, look at this curiosity, brothers! See they're fornicating, how very so strange! Baselines am-i-right?'

Honestly, it's never actually anything heretical, except for maybe the terrible acting.

He'd deem that punishable by death.

Regardless, Cato's guessing the process of licking something can't really be some sage art form. Not like duelling, and fuck, he's stellar at that. He's stellar at almost everything, he reasons. So why not that? You're such a wanton little thing he'd probably make you finish on accident.

Yet he decides against it as soon as the logical part of his brain boots back up. Largely given the fact he's probably already going to have a hard time as it is trying to avoid others on his way to mask the stink of sex. His brothers have keen noses, it wouldn't be difficult for them to notice the smell of you on his way to his chamber if he's not careful. Let alone if it's smeared all over his face. Next time, however—

"Surely it's not that bad," he says off-handedly.

A surge of shame appears on your face as a red, blotchy belt across your cheeks, and you seem about to protest before he grumbles.

"Still, you really ought to find a solution," he remarks idly, and he notices the implication isn't lost on you.

You frown softly, and wrinkle your nose at him.

"Maybe some manners would help you achieve your goals," he adds, with a clearer spite.

Your frown grows nigh comically harsh.

Cato grunts wryly, satisfied at your annoyance and paws at the hem of his tunic—tearing a portion off and holding it out to you.

You grab the edge of it and tug, but he doesn't let go.

"And what do you say?"

"Thanks," you answer hastily.

He raises an eyebrow and pulls the torn fabric back towards himself ever so slightly, causing you to over extend closer to him.

His stare stays locked on yours, and he gets the treat of watching you dither and fluster under his focus momentarily before you amend, "T-Thank you..." you swallow, and break eye contact, adding; "Commander Sicarius."

"Was that so hard?" Cato scoffs, especially thrilled as he lets go of the scrap—eyeing you as you trot aside, and gingerly begin to wipe away the mess of satisfaction coating your thighs and rear.

When you're decidedly done, you stomp back over to him and hold out the soiled fabric.

He reaches for it, only to have it promptly pulled away.

Cato scowls, and takes a step forward into your space—only for you to inch forward into his.

You're tormenting him then, he decides; or rather he thinks. He's not sure. You don't look smug—you look... nervous? Your lips have drawn into a thin line and you keep glancing between his eyes and behind him randomly.

"What?" He huffs, narrowing his eyes.

"Lean down," you mumble, then quietly make the additional effort of throwing in a "...please."

Cato grumbles at the request but complies, and Throne, he's glad he does; because suddenly you're up on your tip-toes, your hand on his jaw—and your lips are on his cheek.

He blinks, dumb as a mule. It's over as fast as it started and he can't even begin to unpack the elation he's abruptly feeling.

Heedless of his dazzled state, you clear your throat with a bashful laugh—and then the rag is suddenly stuffed into his open hand. He's still frozen there as you practically rush out the room, scooping your previously flung data-slate up as you frantically wave the door mechanism open and vanish from view.

A long wheeze escapes his throat in the empty room, his face thudding with heat.

Oh, he's fucked fucked.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer fanfic #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #reader insert #ultramarines #cato sicarius x reader #cato sicarius #honestly its more like:#cato 'allergic to introspection' sicarius #writing

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maya1525 · 1 year ago

Text

After-School Activities

18+ MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Satoru Gojo, Toge Inumaki, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuta Okkotsu

WARNINGS✩࿐unprotected group sex in the classroom, Male Teacher x Female Student, overstimulation, teasing, praise, size difference, Fem! Receiving oral, anal, vaginal sex, cream pie, choking, tit-fucking, multiple Fem!Reader orgasms

BONUS✩࿐Reader gets fucked in a skirt

Word count✩࿐7.1K

Summary✩࿐This is part 2 to my jjk series (reading part 1 isn’t necessary plus it’s private anyways) The school changed the living situation for the students and they have to live in shared apartments. The reader is living with Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuta Okkotsu, and Toge Inumaki. She is being shared among those three as their girlfriend. Satoru Gojo figures out what’s going on between the four students and (for his own selfish desires) decides to give them a lesson on how to please the Fem!Reader.

A/N✩࿐I made a few minor changes to this fic, I hope you like this updated version better. Not sure where my mind went when I wrote this… I hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing from multiple viewpoints.

“How long have you been standing there?” Questioned Megumi as Yuji leaned against the island casually.

“Oh, you know. Like ten minutes. I’m surprised none of you heard me come in. Yuuta was taking too long to grab his running shoes, so I came up to see what the hold-up was. Gotta say I’m impressed.” Yuji smiled, eying all of you with approval. “It was like I was watching a porno in real life!” Megumi let out an irritated groan at his friend's choice of words, while Yuuta face-palmed himself

“Shoot, I completely forgot you were waiting for us! Sorry man kinda got distracted.” Okkotsu flushed as he picked his t-shirt up off the floor. Toge pried you from Megumi’s lap and covered you up more efficiently with the blanket. Not liking the fact that Yuji eyed you with such lust. He pulled you into his arms protectively and led you upstairs to your bedrooms.

“Aww, so is that a ‘no’ then? It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone about your guys’ interesting relationship!” Called out Yuji from the kitchen, you let out a little giggle. To be honest, you never thought of Yuji in that way before. But if you were ever given the chance, would you let Yuji do you? You pushed the thought away as you shakily walked up the stairs, hanging on tight to Toge’s hand. Yuuta followed close behind with his hand on your lower back for support. Toge led you guys to his bedroom and personal bathroom. You’ve showered in his bathroom a couple of times before, typically after sleeping and having sex in his room. The smell of his sandalwood-scented candle always made you feel invited.

Inumaki got the bath ready for you, while Yuuta pulled you into him for a sweet hug, “You did so well taking all three of us for the first time.” You felt his smooth voice through his chest. He pulled away to smile down at you fondly, but then a shocked gasp left his lips. “Inumaki, look what you did to her!”

Toge brought his attention from the bath's temperature towards you, his expression changed to an excited one. He quickly got up and turned you to face the mirror. There on your face, you had his matching cursed speech markings.

This was a side effect of your cursed technique, which allows you to digest any curse user's DNA and mimic their abilities (to a lesser extent). Depending on how much DNA from someone you consume the effects of their techniques will vary.

Toge eyed you proudly and tilted your chin upward to his face. He opened your mouth to look at your tongue. He nodded as a gorgeous smile formed across his features, his viper seal was on your tongue just like his. He pulled you close to his lean porcelain-colored chest and gave you a gentle kiss.

Toge and Yuuta carefully removed the soft blanket from your naked body and led you to the nice warm bath. They took turns washing you as carefully as possible. They treated you as if you were a delicate doll. You felt so relaxed you snoozed off a bit in the bath. You groggily remember Toge carrying you to his bed afterward, and then Yuuta kissed your forehead before he left.

You woke up slightly when you felt Inumaki’s smooth hands run across your skin, as he rubbed lotion on you. Not a single part of your body was missed. His fingers ghosted over your nipples, across your stomach, and dipped down between your sensitive thighs, causing you to shiver.

“Toge, I’m cold. Cuddle me.” Your words melted his heart, he could never say no to you, especially the way your soft voice sounds extra cute when you’re sleepy. He covered you up in his dark gray comforter and pulled you into him. Snaking his arms around your waist, while resting his lips on the back of your neck.

Megumi felt guilty about how marked up your neck was from him, but secretly he couldn’t help but feel a flash of pride knowing he was the one who left them on you. He let you wear his uniform shirt to help hide the hickeys since it had a turtle neck. It was extremely baggy on you because of how petite your figure was. Your school uniform was a black button-down short-sleeve shirt paired skirt that fell midway down your thighs, along with black thigh-high socks. His turtle neck covered your face partially, but when you’d move slightly or speak, Toge’s curse speech marks would become noticeable. During class, you got a few curious glances from the girls, Satoru even flashed Toge and Megumi a proud and knowing smirk.

“And that’s it for our lesson today,” Gojo said clasping his hands together, everyone stood up and began to grab their belongings. You were about to head out of the door when Gojo spoke up once more, “Y/n you wouldn’t mind staying a little later to chat, would you?” You froze right in your tracks; Megumi, Toge, and Yuuta all shared shocked looks for a split second. “Don’t worry boys, she’s not in trouble,” Gojo smiled devilishly at their reaction.

“Uh- yeah, that's fine Sensei.” You said politely.

Once everyone else was gone and the door closed behind your boyfriends Gojo leaned back in his chair as he eyed you through his blindfold. “So, how are things going?” He said nonchalantly with the smirk on his face never faltering.

“Good.” You found yourself fiddling with the waistband of your skirt nervously.

“And your living situation? It looks like those three are treating you well.” His smooth voice rang out.

“Yes, they’re all very nice to me,” You sighed warmly.

Gojo let out a hearty chuckle, “Oh, no need to be so mousy.” He stood up from his chair and placed both of his hands on his desk, leaning towards you in a dominating manner, “Like I said you’re not in trouble... Do you have any idea why I asked to speak to you?”

“No-” You said shortly, but then changed your mind “Well, is it because of my... appearance?”

Satoru snickered once more, “Right on the nose!” He praised, “My first question is-“ He lifted his index finger to represent the number one, but then he hooked the Megumi’s collar at your neck. He pulled down the fabric to expose your neck covered in possessive love bites. Now Toge’s cursed speech marks on your cheeks were visible as well. You gasped in shock.

“Did Megumi leave those on you? Hmm?” You were appalled, he then gently gripped your jaw and tilted your head side to side as he inspected further. His presence was so overwhelming, that you felt too nervous to speak. A familiar feeling in your stomach began to stir up, arousal.

“Aww, cat got your tongue?” Gojo cooed with fake pity. “That’s ok, you don’t have to answer me. It’s written all over your pretty face. But please answer this next question; Toge emptied himself in your mouth, didn’t he?” His dirty words caused you to shudder.

You were beyond flustered, “Yes, he did.” You said defeatedly, and Gojo’s smug look increased.

“I’m guessing Yuuta’s involved too?” Satoru hummed as you felt a faint blush creep across your cheeks. You nodded shyly. With his grip still on your jaw he placed his middle and index fingers against your lips - they looked so kissable to him.

“Are you able to use your cursed technique through saliva? I’m curious to see how long it can last through a kiss-“ he cupped your face firmly and brought his hot lips to yours. His tongue snaked its way into your mouth for a split second. You were too shocked to move or believe that this was happening!

Your phone in your skirt went off, someone was calling you! You tried grabbing it but Satoru beat you to it. Your phone screen had said that Yuuta was calling, he slid to answer with his thumb as he kept his fingers on your lips.

“Hello?” He hummed smugly, bringing your phone close to his face and putting it on speaker for you to hear.

“Oh, uh- hey Gojo, I’m guessing that you and Y/n are still talking then?” Yuuta said in a confused tone.

“Yeah, we’re still talking,” Gojo said smoothly, with a wicked smirk. If he wasn’t wearing his blindfold he would’ve winked at you.

“Um, well are you guys almost done? Just wondering, since I’m outside waiting for her.” Yuuta explained.

“We’re just finishing up, don’t worry.” Gojo paused, “Are Megumi and Toge waiting out there as well?”

Yuuta went silent briefly, “Yeah, we are.”

“Perfect! Why don’t you three come back inside? There’s something important I need to teach you guys.”

Gojo had you shirtless in seconds, the younger men were baffled at how effectively he undressed you down to nothing but your school uniform skirt. Your bra was particularly flung off by the flick of his fingers. They watched captivated as the experienced man stripped you. It was as if he was a skilled magician showing off an elaborate trick right before their eyes. He’s clearly done this countless times before.

All of their mouths water for you. The energy in the room shifted immensely. You could feel their longing eyes staring you down as if you were a delectable meal.

You felt so vulnerable sitting on Gojo’s desk with nothing on but your skirt on. He had you bring your feet onto the edge of its hardwood surface, and he gently guided your torso back with his large suave hands. He had you leaning on your elbows. “I’m having her in this position, so you can all see clearly what I’m about to do.” Explained Gojo in a matter-of-fact tone, he had all three of them sit at desks up close to his. “Make sure you pay attention to her reactions and her facial expressions.“

Satoru stood behind you so he was facing his students, he placed both of his warm hands on your shoulders. He massaged them lightly, “no need to be so nervous,” He whispered down into your left ear, “Relax...”

You tried your best to ease your nerves, but you couldn’t help but feel anxious. Gojo’s magical hands made you melt to his touch within seconds. ”Good girl.” He uttered under his breath, his seductive scent filled your senses with how close he had gotten to you.

His hands then slid across your collar bones and then he ghosted them down to your perky breasts. Groping them gently from behind, you held back a quiet moan as he teased your nipples delicately.

“Don’t hide your cute sounds darling, let them hear you enjoy this.” Satoru purred.

He then gave your breasts a rough squeeze causing you to tense up in pain, “Did you guys just see that? She doesn’t like it when I’m rough with her tits, be gentle with them from now on.” He then caressed your breasts again but this time much gentler.

Gojo moved his torso closer to your shoulder as if he were a snake enveloping its prey. He lowered his head down to your collarbone to give it a fluttery kiss, causing ferocious shivers to wake in its place. He grazed his lips up to your hickey-covered neck to place another kiss. “Ahh…” You sighed at the feeling.

“Her neck is extremely sensitive, Megumi you took advantage of that. Good job.” Gojo praised his pupil against the crook of your neck. He tested the waters and licked up your neck slowly, earning another sigh to escape from you. He loved how reactive you were being to his touch. Your cute little moans made a tight feeling swell in his chest (and in his pants), oh he will take his time and savor you for sure.

With his hands still lightly teasing and caressing your bouncy breasts. He brought his lips to your right ear, licking the lobe ever so fluently, causing you to arch your back instinctively. A lazy smirk made itself known on Gojo’s handsome features. No one has ever done that to your ear before and the heat from his breath alone gave you goosebumps. Right before everyone’s eyes, your nipples grew even more pebbled. Satoru delicately kissed your ear making you squirm with bliss. You felt your voice get caught in your throat at this new sensation. The neediness between your thighs increased tremendously. He hasn’t even touched you down there, but you could feel the dampness in your underwear skyrocket. As if the feeling wasn’t exquisite enough Satoru amplified your emotions tenfold by whispering in a voice too soft for anyone else to hear. “I bet you’re a soaking mess right now. You want me to take of that?”

“Okaka.” You heard Toge growl under his breath. You flashed your attention over to see Inumaki sitting at his desk with his arms crossed, his hardened gaze staring directly at his teacher.

“Don’t worry Inumaki, I’m just giving her some words of encouragement.” Gojo sighed lightheartedly. “Words are just as crucial as actions when it comes to the art of… seduction.”

Satoru placed his hot mouth back to your ear once more, initiating you to arch my back without thinking. He then removed one of his hands from your nipples and brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “suck 'em.” He ordered.

You obediently parted your lips slightly, and his long fingers pried their way into your mouth. They immediately went down your throat, your breath remained calm as you gently sucked them with ease. Your gag reflex has improved tremendously, compared to the first time you deep-throated. It was with Yuuta’s dick. He was so sweet and patient when you got used to the feeling.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to suffocate yourself.” Yuuta gasped out as you choked on him, his fists tightened around the sheets as he tried to calm down at the new wonderful sensation he was experiencing. You were curious to see how far he could go down your throat, so you forced yourself deeper onto him. You felt happy to give him so much pleasure with your saturated mouth. A few tears escaped from your eyes, and then shortly after your nose began to run. Regardless, you loved the way Yuuta’s sweet dark eyes rolled to the back of his head and how his black hair fell messily in front of his face. “You feel so good…” he struggled to say while you slurped his rod.

Remembering that now while you sucked on Gojo’s fingers, caused your panties to dampen even more. You flickered your eyes over to your boyfriends. Making eye contact with Toge first; you could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted you. Megumi had a similar look on his face but was still curious to see what else Satoru planned on doing to you. While Yuuta had such a needy look on his face, he was turned on and fought the urge to run up to the desk and snatch you from his teacher's grasp.

Gojo’s words brought your attention back to him, “I’m impressed that they were able to corrupt an innocent beauty into such a little slut.” You naturally sucked on his fingers a little harder when he called you a slut. You’ve never been degraded before, but when he said that you felt even more turned on. Gojo chuckled, “Oh? Do you like being called a slut?” His voice sounded deeper than usual.

Satoru then moved to your other ear to tease you with his viper-like tongue. You pictured his tongue down between your legs and you couldn’t help but whine onto his fingers. Gojo was drunk with power at the moment, he got off to the thought of doing you right here and now in front of your boyfriends. His cocky smile not leaving his face throughout the whole ordeal.

He reluctantly removed his fingers from your mouth and got up from behind you. He kneeled at the front of the desk but still made sure everyone could see what he was doing. You felt his large hand sweetly touch your ankle. Then he ghosted his fingers up your shin and to your thigh, lifting your skirt to expose your drenched underwear.

“Aww you gotta little excited, didn’t you?” He announced, you felt so lewd when everyone’s lust-filled eyes stared directly at your wet panties.

To your disappointment Gojo didn’t even touch your underwear, you felt him place a hand on the inside of each of your plump thighs. He gave them a gentle squeeze causing you to gasp with delight.

“Yep, my suspicions are correct. Not only does your girl have an extra sensitive neck but her thighs are just as bad.” The way Satoru talked about you, reminded you of the way expert mechanics talk about cars. “Please tell me that at least one of you knew that?” He directed his attention to your three boyfriends.

“Shake-shake,” Toge spoke up, causing Megumi and Yuuta to whirl their heads in the cursed speech user’s direction. No one except you could notice the proud glint in Inumaki’s eyes.

“Oh? Do care to elaborate.” Satoru said to you as he gently rubbed your soft skin, erecting a sigh of delight to come from your lips.

“Toge likes to give me full body massages from time to time, which most of the time leads to…” your cheeks grew hot as if you weren’t already aroused.

Your thoughts drifted to when Inumaki discovered your sweet spots on the inner parts of your legs. You were on your tummy in his bed watching TV as he massaged your naked ass. He started with your neck and shoulders and worked his way down. You enjoyed the feeling of your ass being massaged by his slick lotion-covered hands. As soon as he slid a hand down onto your thighs a loud gasp of satisfaction came from you. Toge immediately pulled his hand away with the fear that he hurt you, “Takana?” His voice rang with concern as he brought his face in front of yours.

“It’s ok! You didn’t hurt me, it felt good but also sensitive at the same time.” You blushed.

The look in his eyes got what you meant, so he situated himself back behind you to rub your thighs again. He managed to make you whimper uncontrollably with his teasing hands. His curious fingers were delicate at first, but then increased pressure- which drove you wild. Your entire body twitched as you flung over to close your legs. You were greeted with a sly smile and a playful look in his gorgeous violet-colored eyes. “Inumaki, be nice.”

His reflexes were slightly faster compared to yours and managed to get a hold of your right leg pulling you into him, dragging your back across his sheets in the process. He flung your leg over his shoulder as his lips came crashing down on yours for a heated kiss.

Megumi fought the urge to fuck you on that damn desk himself. His pants felt unbearably tight as his dick grew harder for you. How did Gojo manage to get you so turned on when he hasn’t even touched your pussy yet? The desperate way you looked at him as Gojo teased your overly sensitive thighs, made him ache for you so badly. He knew that Satoru was experienced and was helping you guys unlock new ways to get their girlfriend rilled up, but he felt impatient watching him tease you so blatantly.

You became a squirming and whiny mess because of Satoru’s hands on your soft skin. You felt your walls crumbling from the inside, as you lost your self-control. You felt too hot, too turned on, and too empty. “I-I…” I want you to fuck me, anyone to fuck me. You couldn’t muster up those dirty words, so you babbled uncontrollably.

“Hmm? What is it dear?” Gojo’s lazy smile irritated you, he knew what he was doing but chose to keep you in this desperate state.

“You’re not- ahh,“ another wave of pleasure hit you hard, his damn hands were so close to your soaking core. “You’re not doing a good job.” You managed to say between gasps.

“Oh? Be more specific hun, what am I not doing a good job at? Is there something else you want me to do?” That bastard knew what he was doing.

Toge couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the blindfolded man. Yes, he did have good tricks that he planned on teaching them; but Inumaki wanted to be the one responsible for those cute gasps and moans coming from your mouth. While at the same time, he was intrigued at how unraveled you’ve become.

“I…” you trailed off once more, in your desperate state you still felt too shy to say it. His skilled hands were so close yet too damned far away. A sudden wave of bravery overcame you. You shifted your weight onto your right elbow and leaned forward with your left hand. You snatched one of Satoru’s hands and set it on your drenched panties. “Touch me here,” you begged.

Your beautiful pleading eyes and words melted Gojo’s heart, you sounded so adorably horny to him and he loved it. He ghosted his fingers along the line of your pussy lips causing you to grind your core onto his fingers for more friction. “You want me to touch you here?” You nodded, your voice caught in your throat with excitement. “Tell me that’s what you want.” Satoru taunted.

You glared at him when he pulled his hand away, “Please sensei.” You pouted, “Make me feel good.”

That’s all Gojo needed to hear, in one skilled motion he removed your saturated underwear. Yuuta’s mouth watered at the sight in front of him, it took all of his strength and willpower to remain seated and watch his teacher at work.

Your dripping cunt was now exposed for all to see. Gojo slid his fingers against your folds to gather some of your juice onto them. He brought his slick-covered fingers to his mouth to have a taste, as if he was trying a delicacy. “Heavenly.”

He then directed his attention to his students, “So when it comes to pussy worshipping there are three ways to go about it. Eating. Fingering. And fucking. I’ll demonstrate in that order.”

He placed his warm finger on your clit, prodding it gently, making you whimper with anticipation. His fingers suddenly swiveled around your bundle of nerves with such speed and pressure causing you to moan embarrassingly loud. All you could feel was a hot white pleasure, and you came immediately onto his fingers.

“Oh fuck.” Gojo groaned as he ripped his blindfold down around his neck and brought his handsome face down between your thighs to drink up your squirting liquids. You couldn’t believe you came that fast and that suddenly.

Megumi, Toge, and Yuuta watched astonished as you came onto Gojo’s fingers. They didn’t know you could finish that fast, they all wondered what else their teacher was capable of.

The feeling of Satoru’s skilled mouth drinking you up made you feel so hot. You never would have thought that something so lewd and inappropriate as this, would ever happen with him, which made you enjoy it more. He kept his sultry mouth on your pussy, expertly zigzagging his tongue over your wet folds. You saw his brilliant blue eyes look up at you friskily. His hands gently rubbed and gripped both of your thighs.

“Instead of directing your attention onto one part of her body at a time, it’s crucial to stimulate more than one area. This will make her a slutty mess for you.” He hummed against your slick privates, the vibration of his voice feeling so good you clenched your tight hole yearningly.

As if he knew your pussy craved attention, right on cue he plunged his tongue inside of you. “Mmh, Satoru!” Your cunt practically squeezed his tongue further into you, begging him to tongue fuck you. His skilled mouth sent you over the edge once again, you instinctively gyrated your hips as you rode out your second orgasm. His eager mouth enveloped your pulsating cunt as he drank from you again.

Yuuta was awestruck when he so you come undone again. He didn’t even know that it was possible for you to cum twice in such a short amount of time. He made sure to memorize the way his sensei moved his mouth on you.

Once Gojo finished drinking from you he reluctantly pulled his face away, revealing that the lower section of his face was glistening from your overly saturated cunt. He looked over towards his male students, they were all clearly turned on by how he made you so wet and ready. “All of you are going to eat Y/n out, Megumi you’ll go first.”

Megumi immediately got up from his desk with a starved look on his attractive features, he was more than willing to help contribute to making you feel good. His teacher scooted over and now Fushiguro was situated between your legs. “Show me what you know.” Satoru’s lustrous voice rang out into the quiet classroom.

Your boyfriend slid his tongue up your folds and onto your clit, erecting a sigh of bliss to come from your lips. He could grow addicted to the taste of your sweet arousal. He swiped his tongue over you again, but this time faster and with slightly more pressure. Fushiguro remembered how you became undone when Totality’s fast tongue slid across your clit so he copied that method. You squirmed underneath his hot mouth. Gojo smiled at how fast his young pupil was able to move his tongue on you. Without thinking Megumi brought two fingers up to your dripping cavern, but Gojo grabbed them with a knowing smirk, “Not yet, let’s give Yuuta a turn.” Megumi obeyed and unwillingly pulled his mouth away from you, as Yuuta hurried over, practically kicking his desk out of the way in the process.

“Fushiguro, why don’t you give your girlfriend some love while Yuuta eats her out?” Satoru purred as you felt his large hand stroke your thigh in a comforting manner.

Yuuta settled between your legs with a ravenous look in his dark eyes. Megumi leaned against the desk and kissed you passionately. You could taste yourself on his lips. The sudden feeling of pleasure woke through your body once more, as you felt Yuuta’s tongue swivel across your folds, in a manner similar to Gojo’s. “Mmm.” Your moan was swallowed by Megumi’s avid kisses.

Yuuta then lowered his mouth so he could tongue fuck you, while his slender fingers stroked your sensitive nub. Satoru was pleased that Okkotsu was focusing his attention in more than one spot, as he instructed. Yuuta burrowed his face between your legs as if he didn’t need air to breathe. Gojo was impressed by how enthusiastic Yuuta was about eating your pussy. The thought of teaching you to sit on his face while he ate you crossed his mind for another day of teaching.

“Let’s give Inumaki a turn before she cums Yuuta.” Satoru chimed while prying the dark-haired boy away from your soaking cunt. Okkotsu moved to the other side of the desk to kiss your neck, while Fushiguro and you frenched feverishly. Yuuta’s slick mouth trailed kisses up to your ear, making you writhe in ecstasy.

Inumaki unzipped his face covering and grabbed both of my thighs towards his face, similar to the way Yuuta did. You always loved it when Toge would eat you since the heavy amount of cursed energy coming from his mouth felt like static. He latched his lips onto your clit and sucked hard, “Inumaki!” You whined onto Fushiguro’s lips, the sensation was too much for you to handle.

You felt overstimulated; with Inumaki’s buzzing mouth down on you, Satoru’s eyes raking over your body, Megumi’s heated kisses, and Yuuta’s steamy mouth on your ear. All of which drove you to the edge completely. You arched your back and flung one of your hands into Toge’s platinum white locks, “Cum.” He mumbled against your sloppy cunt, you tried to clamp your legs down onto him from the intense feeling of your release but his strong grip on your thighs kept you in place. He drank from you as if we were a starved animal, his alluring face between your legs made you go weak in the knees.

After cumming three times now, you felt like a rag doll. They could all easily manhandle you if they wanted to, which you wouldn’t mind at all. Your exhausted gaze drifted downward to see that Satoru had the largest tent in his pants you’d ever seen. The thought of him squeezing his huge member inside of you made you shiver with anticipation and fear.

Satoru took the initiative and stuck his middle and index fingers inside your dripping entrance. “Ahh!” You moaned out enjoying the feeling entirely. Toge was still between your legs and began to lightly kiss and suck on your thighs, little did you know he was leaving hickeys all over them.

Gojo pumped his long fingers in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He loved how your walls clamped down on him whenever he went a little too deep. He then arched his fingers so they were stroking your G-spot. He lifted his hand from his firm grip on your hip and announced “This is what I’m doing inside of your girl right now. That will make her cum for sure.” While his other hand in the air mimicked what he was doing inside of you so everyone could see.

It was all too much for you, and you couldn’t take it anymore. All this teasing and touching your overly sensitive body, “just fuck me already.” You whimpered quietly. Not sure if you directed your words to your teacher or one of your boyfriends. You were too overwhelmed to care who did the dead. As long as you could feel one of them fill you up. A dashing smirk came over Gojo’s face. While you sensed Megumi and Yuuta exchange a glance with one another.

Gojo’s fingers inside you went still at your lewd request. “Here Toge, take over.” Gojo took his fingers out of you and licked them clean as he walked to the other side of his desk. He stopped behind you, with his blue iridescent gaze looking down at you. “If you want me to fuck you, I’m going to need your mouth on my dick first.”

You felt Toge’s slender fingers begin to pump in and out of you, as he brought his mouth down to your clit. Megumi and Yuuta shifted their attention to your breasts, each licking and sucking your nipples as if they were a treat just for them. Gojo unzipped his pants and his massive dick sprung free, ready to play as ever. You gasped at his size but weren’t surprised because of how tall he was. Satoru adjusted your head so it dangled off the edge of his desk. Your mouth watered uncontrollably as he lightly guided his dick to your lips. You licked his velvety tip first and then his entire length. Making sure his entire penis was coated with your drool. You carefully took one of his balls into your mouth to suckle, he let out a little hiss of pleasure.

“You’re doing so good.” Gojo purred with approval as he placed both of his hands on your head. You mustered up as much bravery as you could to take him down your throat. Immediately, panic began to arise in your chest, due to the lack of air; but that was soon replaced by your dirty thoughts, enjoying the fact that this was happening. I bet this looks so hot to him. You thought, and you couldn’t be more right.

The sight before Satoru was a moment he will never forget. Your small throat squeezed him snuggly, causing his dick to twitch with pleasure. He was able to see the outline of his massive cock in your throat. The way your mouth salivated uncontrollably, along with your tongue beckoning him further down made him crave you even more. He’d be satisfied finishing your mouth right here and now, but the greedier side of his personality wants to claim your pussy as his. And that’s just what he’ll do.

Gojo then took himself out of your mouth, and a long strand of your drool connected your lips to the tip of his dick. “Which one of you would like to take her ass?” Gojo asked with a deep voice.

Toge mumbled “shake-shake” through your cunt as he ate you. He lifted his head out from between your thighs, his lips shining with your wetness.

“Perfect, coat your dick with her pussy juice before you shove it in. So it doesn’t hurt her as bad.” His wise teacher instructed. Toge slipped three of his fingers inside your sloppy pussy to gather as much wetness as possible (which was pretty easy). He wiggled around inside of you, causing you to whimper uncontrollably. While his other hand unzipped his pants. He removed his fingers from you, making you feel suddenly empty and needy.

His lust-filled eyes stared at you as he stroked his dick with his wet hand. You were more than ready to get filled up. Satoru had Toge take your place on his desk so he was laying on it. Gojo picked you up as if you were weightless and had you straddle Inumaki in reverse.

You gingerly settled yourself onto Toge’s sprung dick. You felt grateful he was slick with your wetness, otherwise, it would’ve been a bit more painful.

“Ahh.” You heard a small groan of satisfaction come from him. Inch by inch, you let gravity take you down further onto him until he was in you completely. Your skirt hid what was going on below you two. You felt Toge’s nails dig into your hips from his firm grip on you. You could tell he holding back the urge to pump into you wildly. To calm himself, he began to gently kiss the back of your neck and ears. Making you shiver in response, your nipples instantly become pebbled.

Satoru had unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his well-toned muscles, his pants draped to his thighs and his dick stuck out proudly. He settled between your legs, lifting up your skirt. He guided his massive member to your wet folds. The anticipation caused you to whimper as he slowly pushed the tip inside of you. Gojo clenched his jaw with concentration as he focused on not plowing into you just yet.

You became a mewling mess, “I don’t think you’re going to fit.” You cried as Satoru shoved himself another inch into your slippery pussy. You could already feel him rubbing against Toge’s penis lodged up your ass and he was not even halfway in yet.

“Don’t worry hun, I’ll make it fit. Megumi, put her mouth to use.” Gojo groaned as your walls clamped down on his extensive member. “Yuuta climb on top of her and fuck her tits.”

Megumi did as his teacher instructed, his dark blue eyes gleamed down at you as you opened your mouth for him. Sucking on him hungrily, you enjoyed the taste of his precum leaking into your mouth. Megumi loved how enthusiastic you were for him, “Ugh... you’re such a good girl.” He groaned out as he caressed your head gently.

Yuuta agilely maneuvered on top of your torso, he put his weight onto his knees being extra careful not to squish you. He unzipped his pants to set his elongated member free. He spit down onto himself and guided your hand up to his dick to stroke him. You enjoyed his warm smooth texture. Pumping him quickly, you earned a few gasps of pleasure to come from his lips.

Satoru couldn’t take it anymore, and plunged himself deep into you, instantly hitting your cervix. A cute and muted, “Ahh! Sensei....” came from your stuffed mouth at the sudden feeling, creaming onto him. Your pussy pulsated around his rod with delight.

“Shit. Your slutty little cunt can’t handle me.” Gojo hissed under his breath, loving the fact that your body cums so easily for him. He settled into a solid rhythm, pushing in and out of your petite body. He made a note to get you for himself sometime. He’d love for you to moan his name, and see your adorable face distorted in pleasure because of him.

Toge, felt your release drip down onto his thighs and penis, which helped lubricate him. With the extra wetness, he increased his speed. He rapidly pounded up inside you. He bit down onto your shoulder passionately, his hot breath initiating goosebumps to rise on your smooth skin. “Oh Toge...” you panted onto Megumi’s dick.

Yuuta began to rub himself onto your supple bouncy breasts, his penis felt hot and hard against your squishy skin. He was able to get a perfect view of your gorgeous face. He loved the way your pretty eyes watered as you deep-throated Fushiguro. Even though what you were doing was incredibly lewd, he knew that in his heart he would protect you. He would kill for you, and there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you. The thought of love crossed his mind, but was afraid to say that word too soon.

“Grip her neck Okkotsu.” Ordered Gojo from behind him, snapping him out of his ogling over you, “she’ll like it.” He heaved as he shoved himself into you once more.

Yuuta tentatively brought his lean vein-covered arm up, and his fingers went around your throat and gently squeezed. “Mmh.” You moaned out, enjoying the feeling of being at his mercy - especially from your shy and sensitive boy.

Hearing you whimper, awoke a dark urge inside of Okkotsu. The thought of fucking you with his hand around your throat made him pump his dick faster against your squishy and sensitive tits.

The way Yuuta’s dark eyes looked down at you with such dominance, caused you to clench your walls around Gojo and Toge suggestively. Erupting groans from both men inside of you. Gojo’s grand penis kept hitting your uterus with every stroke. He went in and out effortlessly because of how drenched he was from your soggy cunt. Satoru and Inumaki stimulated you simultaneously, their speed accelerated dramatically along with the power behind their hard thrusts. “You’re taking us so well hun.” Panted Gojo with approval.

Your legs began to tremble, you could feel your release building up again. You felt Satoru’s skilled fingers run against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs feverishly. The sensations they made you feel were too much for you to handle, and you came undone. Drenching Satoru in the process.

You whimpered onto Megumi’s dick as his hips began to move a bit rougher against your mouth. Yuuta’s movements against your breasts had increased in tempo as well. “Ahh.” Yuuta sighed with pleasure, as strands of his cum squirted all over your breasts, painting you like a picture. His grip on your throat tightened, causing you to clamp down a bit more on Megumi’s penis lodged inside. Earning a groan of pleasure to come from Fushiguro. He sprayed himself down your throat and you drank him eagerly.

“Shit, her pussy is too tight and wet. I’m gonna cum.” Gritted Satoru through his teeth. He cherished the way your petite body welcomed him in so easily. He was clearly much too big for you but got off to the sick thought of that at the same time. He gripped your little waist tightly as he shot his bountiful load of seed deep against your cervix, knowing it’d reach your uterus in no time. Toge came shortly after, you could feel him pulsate through your ass as he released himself deep inside of your bowels. A delicious groan escaped his lips as he bit down on the back of your neck.

Megumi gingerly pulled himself out of your mouth and leaned down to give you a sweet kiss. Yuuta carefully hopped off of the desk, as Satoru removed himself from your used sloppy hole. His cum spilled out of you like a waterfall. His gorgeous blue eyes raked over the mess he made in you. He helped you up and off of Toge. Your legs felt like jelly when you stood up, so you leaned against Yuuta for support. He tried to help you put your bra on, but couldn’t get the clasps figured out. So Satoru took over as he explained how the contraption worked.

You felt Inumaki’s and Gojo’s cum drip down your legs from underneath my skirt. All of your clothes were a disheveled mess, but at least the walk from class to the dorm building was a short one. Toge sneaked his way over to you to hug you from behind, you rested your head on his shoulder sweetly. Megumi came in front of you two to kiss you passionately, “You’re so perfect.” He gave you a heart-melting smile with a quick hug, sandwiching you between Toge and himself. Okkotsu approached you from the right and gave you a small peck on the forehead, while you felt his comforting touch on your cheek.

Satoru walked up to you with an affirming look in his eyes. He brought his face down to yours to kiss you tenderly, “You were exceptional dear.” He hummed against your lips. “If you ever need anything, ask me.”

Abruptly, the door to the classroom opened, “Here’s my late homework Gojo!” Said an all too familiar voice, Yuji Itadori stood in the doorway of the classroom with a can of soda in one hand and a packet of papers in the other.

“Uhh, it smells like sex in here!” As soon as the words left his mouth a knowing look flashed over his face. He realized how messed up everyone's clothes were. Noticeable strands of gooey liquid rolled down your legs. “Did you guys-?” He cut himself off with pure shock and then his expression changed to a hurt one, “without me...”

Gojo briefly walked up to Itadori and took the packet of papers from him with a smirk. “As a matter of fact,” Satoru sighed lightheartedly, “we were just performing some after-school activities.”

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st4rd0lly · 11 months ago

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ohh for the valentines thing maybe pm dazai (like in dark era) + virginity loss?

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ?

cw : virginity loss , corruption kink , slight possessiveness + obsessiveness , gn reader , dom dazai , sub reader , biting , dacryphilia , he’s kind of pathetic in this , lovesick dazai ftw , not safe sex (please if you’re gonna fuck irl do it safe and do it right darlings, wrap that thang), MDNI

Dazai shouldn’t be seeing you.

He shouldn’t be seeing anyone for a matter of fact, this he knew this well. Everyone around him knew it too. The cold and brutal executive who had a penchant for toying around with people. You knew this too, in fact you knew it too well.

So why were you in this position now?

Pleasure wasn’t something Dazai actively sought after, at least not for himself. Sex was more of means to gain information, and he knew a lot of it. Outside of it being one of many tactics for the mafia, he wasn’t particularly interested in having such an intimate time. And yet he feels like his skin is on fire when he sees any inch of you, eyes focusing in on any part of skin showing.

He tried to convince himself that this was just stupid lust, it’ll go away soon. You were just another mission partner, a fellow executive who tags along with him and Chuuya occasionally. You weren’t anything special to him, no not at all. You definitely weren’t the person he goes to when he had no one else to bother, and no, you definitely weren’t the person he gets reminded of the most.

That would be pathetic of him. And it’s not like he enjoys being so casually touchy with you. He totally doesn’t reach to pull and hold your arm to walk around with you when he starts an argument with Chuuya, huffing and telling you to just follow his lead instead of that stupid ginger. And he definitely doesn’t like it when he rests his head on your shoulder or vice versa when you two are alone. Or when he tells his bar friends about you. No, that’s just some stupid cringey romance thing. He tells himself he’s too good for that stuff.

So again, why were you in this position now?

His hands eagerly cup your face, his lips chasing yours each time you try to pull away for air. He wanted you to feel the way he does, how suffocating his love is for you. How each time he tried to pull away to breathe, you always pulled him right back in. But he realizes that unfortunately, he is a human who needs to breathe too, so he stopped momentarily for the both of you to catch your breaths. He wanted to dare not open his eyes but he was caught up in how they looked at him.

You didn’t look at him in pure disgust, or just pure lust. You looked at him with a hunger, a desire, an unfamiliar love that he was afraid of. But when it came to you, he was reduced to nothing but a lovesick yearner. And maybe he was ready to chase.

‘I want you.’ were the words he wish he could’ve said out loud to you, you deserved to hear them. But like an angel, it was like you heard the prayer repeating in his mind.

“I want you.” You whispered, your own hand reaching his cheek, the side where his eye was covered. He had to stop himself right then and there from melting and nuzzling into your touch.

“Have me then.” He replied quietly, wanting to come off as confident but his words sounded vulnerable to you.

“You would be my first.” You chuckled a little, smiling at him. Then his head got dizzy at the fact. Did he care whether you were a virgin or not? Not really, because either way, he was determined to make you feel like it was your first time on a high. But there was that burned so deliciously in his chest knowing that he would be the first to touch you. And he was sure to be the last too. Just like he was yours, you were his.

“First and only.” He grinned.

“We’ll see.”

And now that’s how you got into the position you were in now.

“Aren’t you taking me so good hm?” He cooed into your ear, cock buried deep inside you with each thrust of his hips. He felt you squirm, watching your chest heave and pretty tears fall from your eyes from the pleasure. Oh there was nothing more than he adored than seeing you under him, falling apart so beautifully. And there was nothing more he loved hearing than your cute sounds, all the moans and whines and whimpers. Your adorable little pleas for him to stop being so mean.

You were just so his.

“You’re just too cute… filthy too huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” He laughed a little, as if he wasn’t drunk off of you entirely. He kissed your tears and moved his hips more harshly, letting you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close. He was so close, he was so fucking close. He can’t even remember how many times the both of you came, he knew he should’ve been more gentle but god, you were like wine he wanted to indulge himself in every night.

He let out muffled groans into your neck, covered with love bites and marks from his relentless attacks and teases earlier.

“D-Dazai…” You whimpered, your voice slightly hoarse from how much you were raising it earlier. It was the only thing you knew how to say at this point besides please and yes.

“G-God, fuck.. say that I’m yours.. You already know you’re mine. Please say that I’m yours..” He moaned, biting down on your neck. ‘Just a little more..’ He thought, but he didn’t even realize the words coming out like you did. But that’s all you’ve been wanting to say, you were just waiting for the right moment.

“You’re mine Dazai, fuck me like it.” You let out a small gasp before you yelped and felt him slam harder into you. You cling onto him tightly, one hand gripping his hair while the other scratched at the bandages wrapping his back.

“C-Cumming..!” You both whined, before reaching your orgasms at the same time. His body collapsed onto you with him still inside, his cock twitching as he fills you up. You both pant, holding onto each other tightly, exhausted.

“So…” Dazai says after a couple moments of silence, wincing a little before pulling out. “First and only yeah?”

“First and only.”

dividers : @/cafekitsune

#. . . words of the crimson moon —✫・゜・。.#dazai smut #dazai x reader #bsd smut #bsd x reader #IDK IF YOU CAN TELL BUT I LIKE WRITING FOR DAZAI A LOT <3 #i had a lot of fun with this request #i like writing dazai pathetic and mean and and and #gn reader #the ending couldve been better tho i know :(

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gamblersdoll · 6 months ago

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𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂!-1

the hero system was fucked, to say the least.

youve interned at the hawks residence for some time to know that, yet, it still surprises you to the very day. the amount of villains whos been locked up but yet have somewhat a valid— no, a good reason of doing what they do. whether its to feed their families, feed themselves, help their parents because they cant do it, or simply show the fact that there are people in need but labeled as villains… whether by their mutant quirks or ‘unfit’ quirks.

you couldve been one of them, since you were labeled as a villain since your quirk first activated. even your own mother acted as such.

“gorgon, you ready?” tokoyami asked, bringing you back into reality and making a small pat in your back.

you give a soft smile, tilting your head and nodding. “yeah, lets go.” you say, smoothing out your hero form and patrolling around for hawks–meanwhile he chats it up with endeavor.

you were graduating soon from yuuei high… shit, time went fast. ontop of that, you were about to be a hero. something you desired since in the womb. but, something did feel sort of … off. as in your mentor.

he had been avoiding you sometimes, and you knew it. because he didnt do it with tokoyami, he casually talks with the kid most of the time. but with you? it was short and dry. especially when it was only you two since tokoyami had classes still.

and its like he wouldnt even look at you.

“hawks? can i talk to you?” you pull him to the side, apologizing to endeavor, yet he grunts a ‘i was done talking to him, anyway.’

“whats up?” he asks, he has that dumbass stance that pushes his hip’s forward but he leans backwards. oh well, you werent here to talk posture. you folded your arms, and he folded his too.

“why are you avoiding me? arent you supposed to be mentoring me and teaching me things to be a hero? how am i supposed to learn if youre just going to focus on one person but not both that you took in?”

“its in your head.” he deadpanned, adjusting his visors and looking down at you. “you think im avoiding you when im not. just relax, little one.” he reassured, patting your head and smiling.

you feel some sort of relief, yet, still confusion and suspicious. you nod, turning on your heels and walking back to patrol area, his eye twitching. he excuses himself into a secluded alleyway and readjusted his pants, along with clutching at his chest. more importantly, above his heart.

you catch on too fast, extremely too fast. it makes a good spy or undercover agent, but now? it was bad.

he steadies his breathing, rolling his eyes back and exhaling. fuck, do you understand how intoxicating your air was? you had to have known. yet, you seem so oblivious. he pulls himself together, getting back to the group and unfortunately, groupies started to form.

‘can i get an autograph, mr hawks?’

‘please sign my tits, im your biggest fan!’

‘are you currently in a relationship?’

the last one stuck out to him, paparazzi swarming him and endeavors’ kids. but his eyes looked for you, bingo.

his eyes rest on you, somewhat of a glare but a trained look onto you. his heart beats faster, but his head is brought back to reality and he puts on that usual poker face.

#hawks x black! reader #hawks smut #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks #keigo x black! reader #keigo smut #bnha keigo #mha takami keigo #keigo tamaki #keigo x reader #keigo takami #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #dvorahstories

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iamnmbr3 · 11 months ago

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When Harry witnesses Draco being forced to torture Rowle, he is extremely upset. Much more so than he typically is about these visions. There are a lot of very drarry implications. Let's break it down.

"Malfoy’s gaunt, petrified face seemed branded on the inside of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.”

Notable points from this passage:

1) Harry understands Draco so well that he immediately takes for granted that he doesn't want to be using the Cruciatus curse. It never even crosses his mind to take this as evidence that Draco is now a willing torturer who enjoys cruelty or that he deserves to be in this situation for having chosen the wrong side and for his role in Dumbledore's death.

Nor does Harry think Draco is just scared and upset because he's afraid Voldemort might lash out at him too - which is what Harry would think if he saw any other Death Eater acting afraid around Voldemort. He clearly sees that Draco is horrified by the acts he is being forced to commit. And he also completely accepts that it is Voldemort forcing Draco to commit these acts, thus absolving Draco of responsibility.

2) Harry is DEEPLY upset by seeing Draco in this position. More upset than he ever is about seeing any other Death Eater being terrorized or hurt by Voldemort (Harry doesn't even spare one thought for Rowle for example!) Not only that. He's also more upset than he is about seeing Ollivander tortured. Or about seeing Voldemort murder a woman and her children later on while searching for information about Gregorovitch. He finds those visions alarming but he shakes them off pretty quickly.

The only comparable strong reactions are how he responds to his visions of Arthur Weasley and Sirius in book 5 - i.e. visions of people he knows and cares about in danger and suffering. And it's not even the scene as a whole that upsets him. It's specifically Draco - whose frightened face seems "branded" on the inside of Harry's eyes. Harry can't get the vision out of his head, feels sickened, and fights to keep his voice casual afterward. Even though Draco wasn't even actively being hurt.

So canonically Draco matters to Harry in a way that almost all other people don't. It's not generic nobility that gives Harry sympathy even for an enemy - because he doesn't feel this way about other Death Eaters. And it's not general pity that Harry would feel for any innocent hurt by Voldemort - because he doesn't feel that way about victims like Ollivander or the children Voldemort killed. It's the type of reaction Harry ONLY has to people he deeply cares about suffering or being in danger. Harry may not think of it that way on an intellectual level. But his heart knows it even if his brain doesn't. He cares about Draco Malfoy. A lot. He cares about him more than he cares about almost anyone else.

3) Also notable. Harry starts out referring to him as Malfoy but then switches to thinking of him as Draco as he starts worrying about him. (Yes. The drarry trope of Harry switching from "Malfoy" to "Draco" literally happens. IN CANON.) And he keeps thinking of him as Draco after that point. The next time Draco is referred to is during the whole sequence where the Golden Trio are prisoners at the Manor. Harry refers to Lucius by his full name multiple times, but consistently refers to Draco as "Draco" rather than "Malfoy" in his internal narration.

4) (Also the fact that Draco's face is described as "gaunt" hits me right in the feels. It seems that he's in worse shape even than he was when Harry last saw him at the end of 6th year. Sad but not surprising given the guilt that is probably eating at him over his role in Dumbledore's death, what he is now being forced to do as a Death Eater, and the very tangible dangers and suffering that come with being out of favor with Voldemort while having him in your house.)

Tldr: I don't need my ships to be canon but drarry is. jkr who? ;)

#drarry in canon #drarry #Harry Potter #Harry Potter meta #meta #my meta #drarry meta #Draco Malfoy #hpdm #harry/draco #draco/harry #hp reread #harry potter and the deathly hallows #my post #drarry g #Rowle

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handsomeamoeba · 1 year ago

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WRONG.

Try again.

Actually let's get into this. As someone who loves a great many fantasy RPGs including BG3, Skyrim, and Dragon Age, let me explain what BG3 gets that Skyrim misses, in my opinion.

And this is the big one: the characters in BG3 feel like real fucking people. They have backstories, demonstrable feelings about the events and the other characters, they react to the things you do and they develop as people as you further your relationships. Even minor NPCs often feel fleshed out with distinct personalities and opinions. Hell, going out of my way to cast Speak to Animals is usually rewarded with at least one charming remark. I have never given even a little bit of a shit about 99% of Bethesda NPCs. I usually choose to travel without a companion rather than with unless I need a pack mule to carry my stuff, because their primary function seems to be to get in my way, set off traps, or attract aggro. I can't remember most characters' names unless I'm actively playing. I'm more likely to casually murder people in Skyrim than I am in BG3 or DA because Bethesda hasn't really made any of their NPCs feel like real people, and consequentially I feel no guilt. By comparison I tried to do an evil run of DA:O and gave up the instant I had to kill Wynne (the grandmotherly spirit healer) when she refused to let me go through with my plans, because I hated doing it. Lydia will watch me gut an innocent man and do NOTHING because she has no life, existence, or personality outside of me, the player. This extends to romances, obviously. While optional in all the games, most people will pursue a romance path in BG3 or DA for the additional character arcs it brings to the characters, the emotional nuances they unlock. In Skyrim romance is a box you tick of tasks to complete. In fact, once you marry them, most marriage candidates personalities change *completely* because all spouses have the same few stock dialog lines. That is, if they had a personality to begin with (again, see Lydia). You know how everyone wants to romance unromanceable characters in Bethesda games? Like Brynjolf in Skyrim, or Nick Valentine in FO4? It's because Bethesda actually bothered to give them stories and opinions.

Honestly, this extends to the player character themselves. To a certain extent every player character is a blank slate, but in BG3 and DA it at least feels possible to develop a feeling about who that character is and what they would or would not say or do. I've tried to do that with the Dragonborn and rarely feel strong feelings about them or have strong opinions about what kind of person they are. The only one I've made who I have much of an idea about is my wood elf Parafina, who is Chaotic Evil. Which again is an option I only pick because no one in Skyrim feels real.

The stakes also feel more real in BG3, more personal. Obviously there's the central quest involving the tadpoles, but more than that, it is about a credible threat to your world and the people and communities in it and the people you love. There are tons of reasons to invest yourself emotionally in the narrative. I have never, ever completed the main storyline in Skyrim nor picked a side in Skyrim's civil war. Why would it? Basically nothing happens if I choose not to. Furthermore, if you're not playing as a Nord (which I usually don't), why would you care about Skyrim as a place? You are a faceless, voiceless (pun intended) outsider who gets microaggressed at every turn being asked to choose between two different flavors of fascist. Also dragons are back but like... listen, I don't care? They get pretty easy to pick off at a certain point, it's like swatting flies, they're just a nuisance on the way to my daily errands. And isn't that such a common story? Don't you know so many people who don't really bother with the main storylines of Skyrim? Yeah it's one of the bestselling games of all time but I feel like the fact that most people don't really care about its narrative should be a sign of failure. We all know it's mostly maintained its popularity due to the modding community.

Ultimately both games have rich worlds which reward exploration with little secrets and environmental storytelling. But BG3 feels more "meaningful" because they give me reasons to care about what happens. The writers worked hard to give the game emotional resonance. So I come to the two games for different experiences. I go to BG3 to engage with an interesting story. I go to Skyrim for the quick serotonin hit of completing tasks and hoarding items.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #skyrim #skyrim critical #with all the love in my heart mind you #i was considering not tagging this tbh

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hiskillingjar · 2 months ago

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Posture Training (Fox/MC)

g-d this shit makes me so horny. probably because i have trauma associated with being scolded for my shitty posture. anyway.

day 25: posture training second person. gn mc referred to as a lady (up to you if that’s derogatory/sexual or not lmao)

"Pick your head up, please."

You lifted your chin quickly, pressing your lips into a tight line as you adjusted your posture against the tall dining chair, your thighs pressed together tightly and your gaze locked straight ahead.

"S-Sorry..." You murmured apologetically.

With an amused hum, Fox circled you casually, admiring you as one may admire a piece of art. His lips twitched with a slight smirk at your soft-spoken apology, your tenacity to submit to him, no matter what, but it didn't touch the rest of his expression, at least not completely.

He was here to teach you a lesson, after all.

"A lady doesn't slouch at the dinner table," He then said sternly, his tail swaying behind him. "Nor does she stammer when she is spoken to."

"Mm," You felt your cheeks flush at his firm tone and his calling you a 'lady' when you normally felt like anything but. "Right. Yes." You said, your voice a little firmer. "My...apologies, sir."

"And look at me when you speak," He added, stopping his pacing at your side. "It's polite to. You know that much, don't you, you weren’t completely unsocialised before this?"

You swallowed, with a flicker of a frown (just for a moment, lest he believe you had any opposition to his orders) and looked towards him, making sure to keep your chin at an even level and move your gaze with your shoulders, lest you strain your neck.

"Yes, sir," You said with a polite smile.

"Good girl," He praised, giving you a brief look of pride, before swiftly taking on an expression of a stern teacher, yet again. "I expect you to be on your best behaviour at dinner this evening. My highest account clients will be there, and you need to be a prime example of my work."

"Yes, sir," You said again, your eyes going forward towards the opulent set of dinnerware in front of you, bowls upon plates upon plates and more sets of cutlery on either side of the dishes than you knew what to do with.

Fox knew that you were out of your depth, hence the activity of the afternoon.

Like some fucked up version of My Fair Lady.

"Don’t look so startled. It's easy to remember, you just move inwards with each course," Fox instructed, pacing to your other side and leaning forward to gesture at each of the forks instructively with a clawed finger. "Salad, fish, and meat. Dessert is the top set, and the spoon is for the soup course, and nothing but."

"Is it that much?" You asked, leaning in to take a closer look at each piece of silverware. "Feels like a lot for a dinner..."

"With the upper echelons of society? Of course, this is bare minimum, quite frankly." He said with a slight scoff (an eyeroll not visible but assumed) as he leaned against the back of your chair. "But, you have to know, darling, some of them are just as interested in watching you stumble as they are in tasting their food."

His voice lowered down to a whisper, leaning closer towards you.

"In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they would find your humiliation downright delectable."

You felt your cheeks flush a little darker, feeling the warmth of his words against your flushed skin, before he took a firm hold of your shoulders and forced them back against the chair.

"I told you; keep your back straight." He ordered harshly. "Head raised high, eyes forward. I will not let them enjoy any of your humiliation."

He then gave your shoulders an idle squeeze, claws digging into your skin.

"Not for free, anyway."

You pressed your knees a little harder together, nervously licking your lips, before pouting slightly at the idea of him humiliating you for profit again.

Your dynamic with Fox was…odd.

You always had the sense that he was moments away from hurting you again, from sticking his foot in front of you and laughing as you feel flat on your face, and yet, he did so much to defend you and preserve your dignity when you (rarely, but occasionally) interacted with those in his social circle.

In private, it was another story, of course, but you figured that was just his taste in things.

"Don't pout, darling," He said airily, with another casual wag of his tail, leaning forwards to speak into your ear again. "You and I can deal with any failures later, but for now,” He rapped his fingers on your shoulders. “I will not allow a bunch of old, rich creeps, “Which clearly didn’t include himself. “To ogle you as if you're one of the wares on the auction floor tonight."

"I hope you're not anticipating my failure, sir," You murmured quietly, letting out a slow exhale.

"I'm not anticipating it, no," He said, standing up straight. "I actually have complete faith in you. But, ah…I wouldn't mind an opportunity to prevent any potential for it.” You sensed another smirk to the tone of his words. “A posture collar, for example, that would stop that pretty head sinking again."

You let out a tiny squeak, raising your head.

You really weren't good at sitting up straight.

"Ah ah," He said with an amused hum, his hand sliding up the back of your neck and tilting your chin up once again. "Eyes forward, chin up. And chest out, please, darling."

"Hahh..." You breathed out as he cupped your jaw with surprising gentleness, pulling your body into the appropriate posture. “Yes, sir.”

"There we are," He said quietly, admiring the pose he pulled your body into, like you were nothing more than a doll for him. "Beautiful. Mm, it might not be necessary, but I can't deny, I'd love to see a nice, thick collar keeping that lovely neck straight."

You shivered slightly as his claws carressed your throat, a certain heat gathering beneath your skirt, making your thighs squeeze together even more.

"And a corset too, perhaps?" He suggested, his hands sinking down your neck and towards your chest. "To keep your back straight, of course.”

"Of course," You agreed, your voice sounding a little dazed as his hand slid down the front of your shirt, cupping the soft weight of your naked chest and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the blooming bud of your nipple. “That sounds…very practical, sir.”

"Yes, very practical, of course," He said with a low hum, his thumb and pointer finger gently pinching your nipple, then, as his other hand cupped your chin again and forced your head up and your back straight, tired of reminding you. "And so very necessary. Perhaps I ought to get you some heels, too, just to make your posture even better."

"Mm," You let out a trembling whine, your hands curling at your sides, unsure whether or not to let them slide between your legs and up your thighs. "Y-Yes, sir..."

"No stammering, remember." He murmured a soft, chiding scold, his breath hot in your ear and giving your nipple a firm pinch. "I'd hate to have to keep this training going all afternoon…mm,” His palm groped your breast again, as he rested his chin on the crown of your head. “And I would really, truly hate to have to lock you in your collar and corset and high heels, just to make sure you always remember the behave like a proper lady."

"Hahhh," You exhaled, squeezing your eyes shut for a brief moment before straightening out again, swallowing hard. "No, sir. I’ll remember to behave, sir."

"Good girl, suuuuch a good girl," He murmured with a broad smile, his breath hot in your ear, "And I'm sure you'll appreciate that all of those things are far less for my amusement and, mm, my pleasure,” The hand on your chin descended to indulgently grope your other breast., “And more for your ability to sit through a long, tedious dinner without embarrassing me, hmm?"

"Of course, sir," You gave your head a little shake, still whining as he touched you. "Of course..."

"Good," He said with another smile, before abruptly pulling away from you, leaving you breathless, flustered, and ever so eager to please him. "Very good. Now, I want you to try and hold that pose for me, while I go and make a few preparations before our guests begin to arrive, alright?"

"Ah-" You let out a little sound of outrage, moving to peer over your shoulder towards him. "Hold it? For how long?"

"As long as I want," He said, his hand wrapping around your chin and forcing you to look forward again. "And eyes. Forward. Do not catch yourself slouching again, or I'll be forced to be much tougher on you. Okay?"

His grip tightened on your chin when you didn’t immediately answer.

"I said, okay?”

"Okay," You said quickly with a little nod, doing as you were told (as you always did, as you would always do) keeping your posture straight as he let go of your jaw. "Yes, okay, yes sir."

“Good girl. I’ll get started on dinner~”

#ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #fox tpof #fox x reader #fox x mc #kinktober 2024 #one of the faves #i really like this one what can i say?

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wynnyfryd · 11 months ago

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Trailer park Steve AU pt 44

part 1 | part 43 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

“You’re just…” Robin looks at him sideways, her face doing something quivery and weird that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be sympathetic concern but mostly looks like she stubbed her toe right after smelling microwaved fish. “You’re sure it’s not too soon?”

It is.

It definitely is too soon.

Steve’s pleasantly buzzed at a New Year’s Eve party — some random rich kid’s house, loitering in the space between the living room and kitchen so he and Robin can properly people watch (see also: be hugely judgmental bitches about the fashion sense of the girls on the dance floor and the sloppy form of the guys doing keg stands on the back deck) — and Steve just opened his fat, drunk mouth and casually admitted to being in love with Eddie.

Eddie, the guy who hated him for years. The guy who tried to knife him the first time they interacted as neighbors.

The guy whose silhouette has started to fill the passenger seat in Steve's Winnebago dreams.

Eddie’s here, but he’s not here; probably posted up somewhere in the basement so he can deal to the stoners and the horny kids playing Spin the Bottle, and Steve—

Steve knows he falls too fast. Always has, but especially now. Steve fell for Eddie like a gunshot going off: a deafening bang, gurgling fish sounds, blood all over the floor. He kinda thinks he couldn’t help it. Kinda thinks he’d do it again.

And how could he not, when Eddie smiles at him like that? When he takes him apart so sweetly with his words, his lips, his tongue? When he dragged Steve by the hand into the back pew of a midnight mass on Christmas Eve, giggling about how he was shocked his satanic worship hadn’t set the bench aflame?

Yeah.

Steve totally understood why Jesus got up on that cross.

“Oh, my god,” Robin rolls her eyes with a strangled huff. “Are you seriously just—? You’re fucking hopeless.”

Yeah, he is, and yes, he is. “No,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to feel like a defiant kid who got caught lying to his mother, because yeah, he totally is spacing out into lovesick La La Land while being actively accused of spending too much time there lately. “I’m not fucking hopeless, and it’s not too soon.”

Robin gapes at him like 'are you kidding me right now?' “Steve!”

“Robin!” he answers, mimicking her tone. Wow. Vodka makes him petulant.

It makes Robin stubborn as hell. She juts her chin out and hollers over the music, gesturing so aggressively she almost spills her drink, “Admit that it’s too soon!”

“It isn’t!” Steve shouts back; digs his heels in and refuses to budge, never mind the fact that it’s only been, like, three weeks since Eddie fingered him for the first time oh, god, don’t think about Eddie’s fingers right now.

They stare at each other for a second, Robin’s nostrils flaring with the words she so clearly wants to yell at him, her breaths coming hot and harsh, and then, with a long sigh, her shoulders deflate. Her chin comes down. She bites her lip again, teeth turning the skin white as her eyes go big and sad. Worried. She's worried for him because she loved him first.

Steve smiles at her, a quick, closed-lip thing that feels more like shrugging with his mouth, and he leans into her space; pats her cheek and thumbs her chin until she stomps chomping on her lip.

“You’re gonna get it all chapped,” he says in a hush, hoping her Steve translator is still intact after a couple drinks. Hopes she knows that he’s really saying ‘I hear you’ and ‘I love you, too; I love that you care’ because they're at a party and god does he not feel like saying sappy friendship shit out loud.

Robin’s eyes get misty. Just for a second — message received; copy that — and she clears her throat and shakes it off. Points at something over Steve’s shoulder and drags him to the other side of the room.

—

part 45

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #my writing #my fic

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ceilidhtransing · 5 months ago

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It's frankly horrifying how blasé some American queer people are being about the stripping away of legal rights under a potential Trump administration.

I'm very aware that queer politics and queer liberation are bigger than just “what's legal” or “what the state allows us to do” or whatever. Queer people have a very long history of existing without state support and building our own community structures when the rest of society fails us. But oh my god this doesn't mean that our legal rights aren't important. Protection against discrimination is important. The right to marry is important. Being able to access legal HRT is important. The right to legal gender change is important. Adoption rights are important. Protection against “gay panic” and “trans panic” defences is important. Not being classified as a “mental illness” or a “sex crime” is important. Having laws that are on our side isn't everything but it sure as hell isn't nothing.

I feel like some queer people today have this idealised, romanticised idea of what life was like for the queer community in the west in the 60s, 70s, 80s - this sense that Yes It Was Tough, But It Wasn't Anything We Couldn't Deal With, that it was more “radical” and “punk” and “politically pure” and so really we should be wanting to return to that because That Was When All The Cool Grassroots Queer Organising Was Happening before we started getting proper legal protections.

But a lot of the organising that people were doing back then - not all, but a lot - was towards the very rights that some people now don't seem too concerned about throwing away. They fought hard for stuff like anti-discrimination protections and HRT access and I know that's not “glamorous”, it's not “throwing bricks at cops”, but it's important activism that makes a genuine material difference to the lives of so many queer people. They wouldn't have fought so hard for these rights if they didn't matter. And the idea that acknowledging this is somehow “anti-revolutionary” or “bootlicking” or whatever is absurd.

And from these people there's so little recognition of the fact that actually, for many of us, we didn't survive this era. Or we survived but endured so much avoidable suffering. There's a tendency to romanticise “community organising” that tries to compensate for a hostile state while forgetting that community organising can't save everyone. [And it's much, much easier to do community organising when you have a modicum of legal protection. It's a lot harder to organise your queer community pantry and support hotline and safe sex supplies dispensary when the law now defines running any kind of queer venue as “child grooming” or “a public obscenity” or whatever and starts jailing people for it.] Don't rose-tint this time as one of Cool Underground Radicalism without acknowledging that a hell of a lot of people suffered and died because society was far more hostile to them and they didn't have the legal framework that we have now.

Am I saying that, because queer people have some legal rights now, everything is lovely and perfect? That queer activism is “finished because we have gay marriage now”? No. Of course not. Inequality persists. Discrimination persists. The rights that currently exist still don't protect everyone equally, especially where queerness intersects with other forms of marginalisation. There is still so much more to push for.

But pushing for more is completely incompatible with allowing a rollback of what we already have. This casual “so what if Trump takes away our rights; I'm still not voting Democrat” is a spit in the face of all the people who fought so hard for queers to have these rights. Throwing away your vote in order to make a political point and thus allowing someone into power who plans to remove legal rights for queer people - and who is also unimaginably worse than his opponent on basically every other issue - is not what queer activism looks like, and this casual willingness to sacrifice hard-fought rights is demonstrative of either immense privilege or an incredible blindness to what life is like for queer people who don't enjoy these rights. There are queer people in the world who are still fighting for their identities not to be fucking criminalised, who will be looking at the attitude of essentially “who cares if Trump gets into power and sets fire to decades' worth of queer legal victories, if that's what it takes to prove a point to the Democrats” with utter appalment. (And if you're not queer, but are perfectly unconcerned about sacrificing our rights on the altar of Refusing To Vote For A Democrat, that is disgusting, and you are not an ally.)

People fought so hard to have these rights. Rolling them back will have horrific consequences. Please don't just toss them away.

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n33dlew0rk · 22 days ago

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I cyclically go back to some of my old favourites bc I'm a proud ✨music slut✨ and I was thinking about Roy Khan when he joined Kamelot. Like, the kinda uncharacteristic voice timbre for the genre and the short hair made me think of Steve.

And I don't necessarily headcanon Eddie Munson as a metal elitist, but for the sake of this little worm, let's say he absolutely is one. The nasty type, even.

So wouldn't it be hella funny if mid-thirties lead guitarist of average famous trash metal band Corroded Coffin Eddie'd find himself at a festival and suddenly smitten with power metal vocalist Steve Harrington?

Ok so, stay with me:

Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys play some big festival in the early 2000s, not as headliners (I honestly can't see CC as that big, sorry), but still like on one of the late afternoon / early night slots. A plan they're pretty big fans of, it means they have a substantial crowd of fans and casual festival-goers listening to them, but they can get pretty buzzed and relaxed to enjoy the bigger names playing later afterwards. And they're all still in their mid-thirties so yk their lower backs hurt, sure, but they can still be menaces in the pit if they're motivated enough.

They do just that for a while, then around dinner time, someone's girlfriend (I'd like to think Jeff's bc I can totally see him not caring about genres at all) begs to go see this band she likes at one of the smaller stages. She's telling them that they just changed vocalist and this guy had to prove himself to the band by skydiving with them and that's so cool and she really wants to see them live please please please.

Eddie is not convinced, the name of the band doesn't sound familiar, but it's clearly fantasy inspired, and that leaves him with this nagging feeling that they'll end up to some obnoxiously cheesy act. He tries to divert the attention from himself and actually go eat something.

Manager and bff extraordinaire Chrissy Cunningham won't have it though, always careful with partners, family and significant others because she knows how the industry can turns artists into assholes. So she shoves all the boys towards the smaller stage, smiling wide and supportive of the girl who wanted to go there.

And wouldn't you look at that: the act IS, in fact, obnoxious and cheesy. The band has back up vocals that look more like a fucking choir. They have a keyboard that could probably replicate an entire orchestra, which means these guys are symphonic. Eddie shudders at the thought alone.

By no means the band has a big production, but they still have drape-like thingies stage-sides and candles and shit. A quick glance to the crowd has Eddie taking in so many men in leather pants and flowy-fucking-harmony-book-illustration-cover-vaguely-medieval shirts that will hunt him for a lifetime of nightmares.

Eddie groans as the band enters the stage and start playing right away. And yeah, there's no denying it anymore, it's clearly a power metal act- yep there it comes, the chirpy melodic riff and oh, oh yeah, melancholic keys and heartbreaking choir intro just joined the party. Eddie is actively glaring at Chrissy, but she just smiles and pats his back, shrugging apologetic.

And then.

AND THEN.

And then Eddie's future husband appears up there, in a puff of poorly distributed fake smoke, a too tight short sleeved black shirt, fairly normal black jeans with just a few straps on his juicy thighs, short and messy light brown hair and the sweetest boy-next-door smile.

This dorky motherfucker even dares to do a little bow to the audience.

This piece of cake with no tattoos whatsoever in sight and the attire of a very mild occasional I sometimes go to raves while vacationing in Ibiza because I have a very stable and probably boring white collar job and I need to decompress.

This absolute luscious chest forest bearer of a man struts to the barricade and starts singing with a tone so warm that it soothes half of Eddie's lifelong trauma and a lung capacity that could send at least two big tobacco companies bankrupt.

And for a minute there (or five, or ten, or whatever) Eddie kinda forgets why it was ever cringe to sing of doomed love, eternal devotion and, fucking, roses and flowers and passionate nights full of stars and promises and-

"Backstage pass" he starts shaking Chrissy's arm not taking his eyes off the charming vocalist.

Chrissy doesn't hear him right away, so she just cocks an eyebrow in a silent question, but Eddie keeps on staring at the stage like a man possessed and shouts louder "Get. Me. A. Backstage. Pass" and point a finger at Steve singing his heart out.

Chrissy snickers, not particularly surprised, and stands on her tip-toes to take Eddie's face in her hands, turning him to face her.

"Babes, you are an artist that performed at this festival", she lowers a hand to grab and wave in front of his eyes the artist pass attached at Eddie's neck.

It takes a few beats for him to gather enough brain power to understand, but as soon a as he does, he's dodging people left and right with a streak of mumbled "sorry man"s alternated with some more urgent "kindly fuck off"s to reach the front and find the nearest staff entry to flaunt his newly rediscovered access guarantee.

After the encore, an absolutely delicious sweat drenched Steve exists stage left and bumps directly in a very much stunned Eddie Munson with hearts in his eyes.

Steve mumbles a distracted "sorry" and starts walking around him to follow his bandmates to the green room when Eddie reaches for his wrist and nearly shouts "WAIT".

Steve turns around again, looks at his own wrist wrapped in pretty ringed long fingers, then focuses on the owner of said fingers. "Uh, yeah?"

Eddie's watching him like he's the Eighth World's Wonder and promptly answers with "Hi, my name is marry me, will you Eddie Munson?".

In the time it takes Steve to blink a few times and lightly blush before bursting out a genuine laugh, he realises two thing: one, the man in front of him (and still holding his wrist) is Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin and he his quite frankly hot; two, Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin spent a good five minutes of his own band's set earlier that night to climb on a tall amp and proceed with a ridiculous tirade against "all the melodic sappy panty twisting crap that's tainting true metal".

So Steve slowly cocks his head, still smiling big, gently pats his free hand on Eddie's cheek and smugly tells him "nah, wouldn't want to taint your", he tries to lower his voice to make it sound tougher, while vaguely gesturing towards him "true metal, hot stuff". He also winks at him, for good measure.

Eddie once again takes a moment to recover and totally bypasses Steve's dig blurting out a "you watched our set???", ears reddening at the tips, face shocked and mouth open.

Steve finally manages to free his hostage wrist and gives Eddie an incredulous, hopeless once over, starts laughing again and walks backstage, shaking his head.

When he notices Eddie's not following him (still stunned, not offended, to be clear) e looks over his shoulders "are you coming or not?".

Eddie unfreezes then and sprints to join him.

Eddie will proceed to follow Steve around for the remainder of the festival, walking on his knees and begging pretty please for a chance to explain the he actually meant other melodic sappy panty twisting crap, not Steve's.

The next Corroded Coffin album is kind of experimental, features Steve's vocals on one track, pisses off metal elitists worldwide and gains CC a headliner spot in the next festival line-up.

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roanniom · 2 years ago

Note

Live footage of Eddie in the sensitivity fics

A Study in Touch

Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, suggestive flirting and touching, masturbation

You’re tutoring him late one night at his trailer, one of his last ditch efforts to finally graduate. Wayne is gone for his overnight shift so the two of you are alone.

“Can we pleeease do something else? I’m bored and if I look at another flash card I’m gonna die,” Eddie says dramatically, pushing the stack of cards away and laying himself performatively across your lap on the bed, making you laugh.

You two have been casual friends for years, crossing paths in drama club and classes and the like. When you graduated and he stayed behind for another senior year, Eddie would meet you from time to time at the diner where you worked after days full of taking classes at the community college.

With Eddie splayed over you, chest on your lap, face planted on the mattress next to you, you chuckle fondly down at your friend.

“Well do you have any suggestions for an alternate activity?” you ask.

“Anything where I don’t have to use my brain,” he groans.

“That shouldn’t be too difficult, you never use your brain,” you tease. He goes to retort, but at that exact moment you drop your hand on his back and smooth it up the length of his spine, making all of Eddie’s muscles suddenly seize up.

You freeze as a result of his sudden tension and hold your breath. Not sure what you did wrong.

“It’s…it’s okay that I don’t use my brain.” Eddie says, voice slightly shaky as he tries to pretend like he hadn’t just reacted oddly to your touch. “If I was smart, I wouldnt need to pay you for tutoring, so I wouldn’t question it if I were you.”

You laugh at that before tentatively placing your hand back on the plane of his back. Eddie doesn’t tense up this time. In fact, he seems to melt down against you. Perhaps relieved you had given him a second chance with your touch.

“You don’t pay me, Munson,” you contradict.

“Should I?” Eddie asks, turning on his side where he’s laying in your lap so that he can look at you. He’s got that cocky grin on his face that you love when the two of you banter. You’d never know that he had gone rigid under your hand just a moment ago if you hadn’t felt it yourself.

“Don’t make me sound like a hooker,” you say, sliding your hand from his back over his shoulder to slap at his chest. He chuckles but when you go to pull your hand away after the slap, he grabs it and presses it back against his chest.

Your eyes dart up to his face to register the slight panic present in his eyes. His palm is a little sweaty over the back of your hand and you can feel the sped up stutter of his heartbeat, thumping in his chest (a chest much more solid than you’d anticipated).

“You’re too pretty to be a hooker,” he says quietly. He’s back to seeming more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before, despite the usual layer of cockiness, and you wait with bated breath as he continues, though your concern is assuaged when he gives you a lopsided grin. “At the very least you’re an expensive escort.”

“An escort?” you laugh incredulously. Eddie nods.

“Yeah. Like a real high class one.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Top shelf, baby.”

The endearment doesn’t really faze you as Eddie has always confidently called you every sweet name under the sun. The casual flirting feels comfortable and normal and - if you’re being honest with yourself - it seems like it’s part of something that’s been swelling between the two of you for a long time now.

The only thing that clues you in that Eddie is more than a little anxious is the fact that you can feel the thundering beat of his heart under your hand.

“And here I thought I was someone you respected,” you muse, using your hand on his chest to push him on his back on the bed. His eyes widen significantly, widening still when you climb up to straddle his lap.

“I-I-I do…r-respect you,” he stutters, not even capable to pretending that he’s not startled by the development. His hands twitch at his sides. He’s clearly unsure if he should rest them on your thighs or not so you grab them and place them squarely on your hips.

“Do you? Because I’m pretty sure I walked in here to find a well ‘loved’ magazine open to a particularly sticky page with a naked woman on it who looked just like me.” You know you’re acting forward and impatient, but Eddie’s just so cute beneath you and you’re done waiting for him to make a move, especially when you’re so sure he wants you too.

“You saw…oh god. You saw that?” The realization dawning behind his eyes at your eyes words make him seem miserable all of a sudden. True regret and embarrassment replace the flustered flush that had colored his neck and cheeks just moments ago. This wasn’t the reaction you’d been hoping for. You’d assumed he’d proudly admit it or accuse you of something equally salacious. Anything other than the way he’s shrinking against the mattress in remorse.

You lean forward and cup the side of his face.

“No shh stop, I was only teasing,” you do your best to comfort. He seems more startled by your hand on his face than by the revelation, so that’s something at least.

“So…so you didn’t see…” he blinks up at you. You shake your head with a grin.

“Well no, I did see it. But I’m flattered,” you say with a chuckle. Eddie is beet red beneath you now but at least he settles enough to put his hands back on your thighs. You push further. “I’m right, right? You like her cuz she looks like me?”

Eddie swallows thickly, struggling to look at you till he forces his eyes to meet yours.

“I don’t have any pictures of you, so…” He tries his best to sound teasing. He really does. The corner of his mouth quirks up and everything. But you can see him cringe a little at his own words, probably apprehensive about your response. You bite your lip and gaze back down at him inscrutably before looking around the room.

“Aha,” you mutter to yourself, reaching over to grab the old beat up used Polaroid camera he had slung over the corner of his headboard by a worn leather strap. Eddie’s eyes go wide as you shift in his lap, lifting the camera up at a high angle and smiling, your free hand on his pelvis, dangerously close to…

Oh fuck.

He’s hard and you’re on his lap.

He’s hard and you’re on his lap and you just took a picture.

You pay him and his current internal freak out no mind while you pull the waiting picture from the slot, humming as you wait for it to develop and dry. When it’s done, you take a glance and grin wide before swinging yourself off his lap. Eddie is left grasping at air, disappointed in the loss of your warmth.

“Where…where are you going?” he asks as you gather your things, horrified he’s finally scared you off. With your bag slung over your shoulder you smile at him.

“It’s late, I think we’re done for the night. We can pick up tomorrow,” you say brightly. Before Eddie can feel too dejected, however, you drop the Polaroid picture face down on his thigh, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “And besides, I think you’ve got something to take care of now that you’ve got a picture of me.”

Your hand cups his hardened cock through his jeans then and Eddie all but yelps. You pull back from his ear, give him a final cheeky grin, and waltz out.

Eddie holds his breath till he hears the slam of the trailer door and the sound of your tires crunching gravel as you drive away. Then he looks at the Polaroid.

Shrouded in the customary background darkness of an instant flash photo, he’s greeted with the image of you, straddling him, his unmistakable erection bulging his jeans just at the apex of your thighs. And speak of your thighs, his big hands are on them, fingers depressing into the soft flesh in what reads on camera as much possessive and less desperate. His hellfire shirt is rucked up a bit to expose a little of his happy trail leading to his belt, but otherwise that’s all that was visible of Eddie. Of course, he was more interested in you.

The high angle gave the most perfect vantage point down the neckline of your shirt, making your tits look fantastic he literally has to drag a finger over his puffy over bitten bottom lip to catch any spit collecting. Your hand supports you by laying flat on his pelvis, just centimeters from his hard cock. Eddie drops his hand to that very same place now, almost certain he can still feel the phantom pressure of your own palm. The top frame of the image cuts off just below your eyes, something that saddens him but which affords you a little bit of anonymity on this compromising image. But his eyes zero in on your mouth. The way you’ve stuck out your tongue, biting down on it cheekily in a way that still doesn’t hide the smile threatening at the corners of your lips.

You were right. He does have something to take care of now.

That night he cums three separate times, each time fixating on a different part of the picture. He’s so spent and dehydrated afterwards that he just lays in his bed, sweaty and dazed in the early hours on the morning, staring at the picture. Oversensitive and over jerked cock finally dormant (aside from the occasional twitch), leaving him room to simmer in the warmth that spreads from thoughts of your voice, your laugh. Everything about you.

At dawn he finally throws himself out of bed and into the shower, determined not to smell or look like he’d spent the night masturbating his brains out when he finally sees you later.

But of course, under the stream of warm water thoughts of what you’d look like, body wet and eyes begging, came to him unbidden.

Yeah. He ended up needing a lot more time to make him presentable than he’d thought.

~*~

#Eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader

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starry-eyes-love · 7 months ago

Text

Part 2 of Too Young to Die Mini Series

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Too Young to Die- Mini Series Part 2 out of 3.

Pairing | Massage Therapist Joel Miller x F!Reader with Autoimmune disease, no outbreak, AU.

Summary | Joel takes you on your first date, where you eat pizza and joke together. Quickly, Joel finds out what it looks like to deal with an unmanaged autoimmune disorder. Joel, never faltering, stays by your side the whole way. Fast-forward to three years later, and Joel still helps you deal with the complexities of your body as life changes forever.

Banner image by CAImages on Instagram, banners by @saradika-graphics

Word Count: 6.7K

Warnings | Series is: 18+, Smut, Minors DNI (but no smut in this part)

Language, joking, pizza eating with odd topping choices, hints of smut without any smut, kissing, illness, fainting, pregnancy, boyfriend! Joel, husband! Joel, age gap, no major descriptions of the reader except she is younger and has autoimmune disease.

A/N: This took me way too long to finish writing this part. I found that I kept adding more to the story. I love these two goofballs, so strap in for some fun and relaxing banter, with a few surprises along the way :)

Your first date with Joel went exceptionally well. Conversation flowed easily amongst you where there weren't any awkward moments. Joel teased you for liking pineapple on your pizza, and you teased him for liking anchovies.

“Darlin’, you just ruin perfectly good pizza if y’do all that.”

“Well, at least I don’t put dead fish on my pizza, Joel.”

“Look here. I don’t want to hear any more sass from you, considering you put pineapple on your pizza and add marinara sauce.”

Joel shook his head, clearly not thrilled with your pizza flavor choice. He also saw you dip your pizza into the ranch and then take a huge bite, humming to yourself at the flavor choice. Joel looked over at you, shocked like you were someone who had sprouted three heads.

“Darlin’, now you've gone and done it. Completely ruined the American way of eating pizza.” Joel was staring at you wide-eyed as you placed buffalo ranch sauce on top of your pizza. He was trying to figure out how a beautiful woman like yourself would have the oddest taste in food.

“Mr. Miller, I don't recall you being an expert at pizza toppings. If you were, the fact that you place anchovies on your pizza makes your entire argument invalid.”

Joel laughed out loud at your attitude and shook his head. He loved the easy banter between you two.

“You know, it's a good thing I find you cute, darlin', or I'd have to remind you just how much my argument has merit.”

“And what type of merit would that be, Mr. Miller, because there is none in this instance.”

“Well, baby, if you insist.” Joel sat up straight, placing his pizza slice down to continue. “Fish is healthy and nutritious; it gives you plenty of stamina for any extracurricular activities you want or need to do. Plus, it also makes certain things taste sweeter, too.”

“It doesn't make things taste sweeter, Joel; that's a lie. Pineapple is the one that makes things taste sweeter.”

“So, is that why you ordered pineapple on your pizza, darlin’? You wanted to make sure things tasted sweeter for me later?” Joel smirked at you, raising an eyebrow, knowing the offhanded sexual comment he had just made.

You sat in silence, feeling your cheeks flush a nice soft red. You had no idea that Joel was going to take it there, to a sexual place. You weren't mad at his flirtatious comment; you were just sexually flustered. It has been a long time since any man has given you any amount of attention. You found yourself shifting in your seat, trying to alleviate the slow throbbing that had started between your legs at the casual flirting and banter with Joel. When Joel saw this reaction, he knew that he had gotten under your skin, which was the purpose of his comment in the first place.

“Why ya squirming, baby?”

You just looked at Joel with a soft blush on your cheeks. You didn’t want to tell him that your stomach was in knots and that you were getting more and more turned on by him sitting in front of you.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to get comfortable.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, wondering if your discomfort was caused by his teasing or if you truly were in pain. The longer he looked at you, the more concerned he became. He could see that you were worrying your lip, eyes cast downward like you were focusing on something.

“Darlin', are you still with me?” Joel asked, seeing that you didn't answer his question, the one he just asked if your discomfort was due to feeling ill. You never heard him because you weren't listening. You were too focused on your hands, twirling your napkin between your fingers and fidgeting, overthinking things again. Will Joel even want me that way, or will he leave just like all the others?

“Hey, honey, I was just teasing about your pizza topping choice. Just joking, you can eat it any way you like, darlin’.” Joel touched your hand affectionately, trying to bring you back to the present.

“I know, it's just- what happens when all of this gets too hard?” You said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“What? What do you mean, too hard?” Joel was now sitting back and looking at you with a puzzled expression. He was trying to figure out why you suddenly changed your mood. Two seconds ago, Joel was teasing you about your pizza topping choice. You both were relaxed, enjoying each other's company, teasing each other back and forth. But now, the confident woman that Joel had seen just a few seconds ago was gone. He frowned at your sudden change, finding it difficult to remain optimistic about the night's events.

Joel didn't tell or show you he was nervous about tonight's date. He thought that you were beautiful, even though you were much younger. You were on a different path in life. You were 29, looking at living life and planning for your future, while Joel was 47, divorced, and looking towards retirement and potentially becoming a grandfather in the next ten years with two kids that were almost entirely grown up.

Joel has never attempted to date a woman 18 years younger than him; you were the first. Joel didn't know if you could relate to him or if he could relate to you. But the longer you interacted with him, the more he felt at ease. That was until he heard your comment about something being too complicated. It was unsettling to him, especially when his love life and family life were the true definition of what complicated meant.

“Joel, I mean, you, me, and all of this. What happens when all of this gets too complicated?” You were waving your arms around, motioning at the two of you and your surroundings.

“Oh, yeah, I see. Uh, I can understand how this can all be difficult for you or complicated.” Joel felt his heart sink in his chest; he needed to end this before it got any further and before you got any more embedded into his life to hurt him. If you weren't looking for a relationship, he should cut his losses and end it with you. If you didn't like complicated, then you wouldn't like him. His entire life was complicated. Joel had baggage and a lot of it. He didn't want to lead you on if you weren't looking for some type of commitment because he wasn’t looking for anything casual.

“Look, darlin’, if you're not sure, then maybe we should just-”

“I like you a lot, ok? I haven't dated in a while, but you make me feel safe. And no one has done that in a long time. No one ever wants the complications of me being sick, so I get it if you don't, but I want this to work. I don't want you to hurt me, though, when you find out I'm not enough.” You raced the words out, feeling embarrassed for getting this out in the open, but from your past experiences, you knew that, eventually, this conversation would come up. You figured now was the best time to discuss this topic, especially before Joel embedded himself into your life. You didn't think Joel would want a serious relationship with you, being an older man. He probably wasn't looking for commitment, marriage, or kids. Those were things that you knew you wanted. What you didn't want was a one-night stand or a casual hookup. You can't separate sex from love, and you weren't about to start now, no matter how sexy the man was in front of you. You have always liked older men but never had anyone even care to look at you until now.

Joel was amazed at your admission and the guts it took to tell someone that, especially on the first date. But he was also frustrated at you cutting yourself down, saying that you weren't enough when you were. While Joel didn't diminish your feelings, being sick didn't count as a difficulty to him. Could it be a slight hindrance at times? It could, but it wasn't a deal breaker for him. Joel was more of a homebody now anyway, not really into the whole party scene and going out all the time. He didn't care if plans changed. He wasn’t a 20-year-old boy.

Joel reached across the table with a small smile and took your hand. He whispered, “Baby, that's never gonna happen,” as he gently kissed the top of your hand.

“No? How- how come?” You whispered. Your heart was beating fast in your chest as Joel slowly moved his fingertips lightly up and down the inside of your palm. The feather-light touches sent tingles down your spine, especially when he kissed and lightly nipped your wrist.

Joel needed to calm your and his nerves. While he didn't want to have this conversation now, he knew it was better to get these feelings out in the open so both parties could decide how to move forward. That was one thing he learned from his previous marriage: to speak your mind when something bothers you.

Joel stopped moving his hand and looked into your eyes. He could see a mixture of shyness, arousal, and what he thought was also fear; not fear of being with him, but fear of him leaving you. You both were broken inside from past relationships, wanting someone to see you for who you were. Joel didn't know how the future would evolve for the two of you; he just knew that his heart was beating fast in his chest, and butterflies were in his stomach because of the beautiful woman in front of him—someone he desperately wanted to get to know.

“You wanna know why I know that, honey?”

You gently nodded your head.

“It's because I like you a lot, too,” Joel confessed, intertwining his fingers with yours and gently stroking his thumb on your hand. “Honey, I know you're sick, but that won't stop me. We'll figure it out. I haven't felt like this in a long time with a woman, and I’d be a damn fool if I didn't continue seeing you because of it. I don't want casual honey; I want an honest-to-God, committed relationship.”

Joel slowly reached forward and tucked a strand of your hair that fell out of your ponytail behind your ear. He gently cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “So stop fussin', ok? We'll figure it out; it's just you and me, alright?”

You nodded your head, exhaling the breath that you were holding. Joel squeezed your hand once more as he got up to go and throw away both of your trash. As you watched Joel walk away, you knew that you made an excellent decision by agreeing to go on this date with him. You just hoped he was telling you the truth.

After talking for the next hour, you decided to walk to a nearby park. As you slowly walked, Joel reached out and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together. It felt so good to have him hold your hand. You could see that he was trying and wanted this to work as much as you did. It made your heart race and your head feel dizzy at the thought that someone actually and truly cared about you and wanted to be with you.

The two of you talked about Joel's life before he became a massage therapist. He told you that he was a construction worker who owned his own business before he hurt his back. After a year of treatment, including painful back surgery to remove a few bulged disks, Joel had to leave that line of work and sell his business to Tommy, his younger brother, who still manages it today in Texas.

“How did you end up in Minnesota, then?” You had asked as you both sat on a bench, eating ice cream from the small ice cream truck nearby.

“Well, that’s kinda a funny story, really,” Joel commented as he stole a bite of your chocolate ice cream, and then you stole a bite from his plain vanilla one. “My daughters, Sarah and Ellie, live in lower Michigan with their mother, my ex-wife.” He paused, seeing if this admission of being divorced and having kids would be an issue for you. When you looked at him curiously, seeing that you wanted him to continue, he told you the rest of the story.

“Well, Tess, my ex-wife, took a job in Michigan when I was 28 when we got divorced. At the time, she had completely signed custody of the girls over to me. When I hurt my back when I was 32, she took me back to court and requested custody changes.”

“What kind of custody changes?” You slowly placed your spoon down from your ice cream. The cold was starting to give you a headache, and you began to feel sick again with your autoimmune.

“Well, she felt I couldn't care for the girls properly because I was injured and healing from back surgery. According to her, I wasn’t working, yet I still owned my business and received paychecks from it. But still, to her, I wasn’t a father who could provide well enough for our girls, which was untrue.”

When Joel looked up at you, he was immediately concerned. You were starting to look pale on your face, and you were beginning to sweat. “She felt she was a better-fit parent to raise our girls, and the court sided with her.”

“What? How?” You couldn't understand how a judge would find him unfit as a parent just because he had back surgery and was injured.

“Well, that’s where it gets interesting. The man she was dating at the time, secretly dating, was the judge who ruled in her favor.”

“Oh my God, Joel. That is- that’s fucking horrible.” You reached out and gently squeezed his hand. You were trying to stay focused, but you kept having moments of dizziness mixed with horrible pain in your back and joints. Your body was suddenly starting to give you a flare-up of your autoimmune symptoms. You always hated it when your body did this, but right now, you were embarrassed because this was not what you wanted on your first date with Joel.

Joel noticed that you were getting worse and more pale in the face. You had officially removed your sweater, and he could see that you were sweating profusely.

“Honey, are you ok? You're not looking good.”

“No, I'm fine. I just need some water, and then I'll be okay.”

Joel got up and bought two bottles of water from the ice cream stand where you two were sitting. When he returned, he handed you one of the bottles and told you to drink. You murmured, “Thanks,” and then asked him to continue his story.

He smiled slightly at you as you murmured you were feeling a little better to him.

“Well, one thing led to another, and I sold my business and returned to school to get my massage therapist license. I wanted to help people with injuries or chronic diseases that make it difficult for them. I had a few back surgeries again along the way, three to be exact, all here in Minnesota with a specialist. I had to live here for an entire year after my last surgery. Tess said that if I were willing to live here full time, she would be okay with letting the girls come every other weekend, during holiday breaks, and then stay with me every summer. So that’s what I did; I moved here to see my girls.”

“Is Tess still seeing that judge, then?” You took your sweater and wiped your forehead. You were now getting horrible hot flashes. You knew that if your body didn't quit, you'd have to end your date sooner with Joel than you wanted.

“No, Tess found out that the judge was married, and he said that he wasn’t leaving his wife for her. Kind of a perfect ending to a shitty situation, if you ask me.”

Joel knew something was wrong when he saw your face lose color and sweat dripping from your forehead.

“Darlin', you don't look well.” Joel knew your autoimmune was unmanaged and that you’d report getting these horrible symptoms when it flared up. But he didn’t expect this to come on so suddenly like this, and it worried him.

This was life with your autoimmune disease. You lived with this disease every day, and sometimes days were good. Other days, like today, made living life very difficult. You had been hoping this flare-up of symptoms would pass, but something was wrong; you could feel it.

“Joel, I'm sorry, I-I don't feel very well. I think I need to go home. I'm so sorry I-”

“No, darlin', don't apologize, it's okay. Come on, I'll take ya home.”

“No, I drove. I can-”

“Darlin', I'm not letting you drive home looking as sick as you are. Now come on honey, I'll drive ya, and we can pick up your car later, okay?”

Joel stood up and walked around the other side of the picnic table, where you were seated. You were mad, hating that your body did this to you. You mumbled, “Great, you blew it again, woman. Finally, get a nice guy, and this crap happens; good luck getting him to go out again with you.”

Joel heard what you said, and it upset him to think that your getting sick would bother him. Yes, it did bother him that you were ill. But not because it messed up the date you two were having, but because of how you looked; he wasn't comfortable just leaving you alone. You were so pale in the face, and you were struggling to stand that Joel was more concerned that you may need to go to the emergency room before the night was over.

As soon as Joel was by your side, he helped you stand. He took in your features and saw how suddenly weak you had become. Your hands had visible tremors, and you kept wincing and grabbing your back.

“Hey, honey, can you look at me briefly.” Joel gently took your hand and was looking at you in the eyes. “First, I don’t care what other people have done before me, darlin’. I’m telling you that I want another date with you, alright?”

When you nodded your head, he continued. “But, more importantly, I'm uncomfortable just dropping you off at home. Is there someone I can call that can stay with you?”

Shaking your head, you mumbled, “No, Joel, I don't have any family around.”

“What about friends? I'm sure you have some friends that care about you enough that they would come and sit with you tonight.”

When he watched you look down, lip trembling at his question, Joel knew that he had majorly fucked up. You, indeed, were alone. This illness took special people away from you at your age. You reminded Joel of a cancer patient going through treatment, especially with how fast the illness symptoms came on. He remembered his mom being like that before she died of cancer. It broke his heart to think that you were struggling through life with this illness and that no one in these moments cared enough about you. He knew you had friends, as you talked about them earlier. But apparently, those friends were only surface-level friends, and when difficult moments like this happened, they were nowhere around.

“Oh baby, c’mere.”

Joel pulled you into his chest and held you for a moment. “How about this, darlin’, I’ll take you home and stay the night with you. Don't worry. I'll sleep on the couch or the floor if you don't have a couch.”

You just nodded, but as you turned to leave, something in the world must have happened because it felt like the Earth tilted on its axis. As soon as you took a step, your vision went blurry, your face hit the ground hard, and you didn’t remember anything after that. You had fainted.

As you turned to leave, Joel grabbed your water bottles and sweater. As soon as he turned back around, it was like slow motion happened for him. Joel watched you take two steps towards the exit, and then all color left your face as your eyes rolled back into your head. You fell to the ground like a ton of bricks. As soon as he saw that you were collapsing, he mumbled “shit” under his breath and then was moving fast to get to your side.

“Baby, come on. Open your eyes for me. Come on, baby, can you open your eyes? Darlin', look at me.” Joel was kneeling on the ground, lightly tapping your cheek. He was trying to get you to wake up after your fainting episode. As soon as you started to come back around, you began coughing horribly. Joel quickly turned you on your side, rubbing your back as you kept coughing.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. I’m right here, slow breaths, come on now.” He was gently holding your head as you lay on your side, coughing and struggling to breathe after your fainting episode.

“Hey man- is she ok?” another man yelled, approaching the two of you.

“Yeah, maybe we need to call an ambulance,” a woman shouted as she quickly approached.

When he heard a third person add their two cents about the situation, Joel's patience had officially expired.

“Yeah, I saw the whole thing happen. She just collapsed, and her father rushed to her side,” another man yelled approaching.

“STOP,” Joel yelled. Glancing down, he saw you wince at everyone’s statements and try to hide your face. This was the last thing you needed: a crowd of people telling you what to do.

“I’m a medical professional, and I have it under control. I’m also her boyfriend, NOT her father, ok? She’s awake now, and she’s done coughing. She stated she didn’t feel well before she turned around. I was going to take her home, and then this happened.”

“Well, I still think she needs an ambulance called. I’m going to-”

“For the love of God, please leave me alone; I'm fine now,” you snapped, turning more on your side to cover your face. You were so embarrassed for fainting in front of Joel and for the crowd that was now gathering around you.

“We were just trying to help; no need to be rude,” one woman said, snapping at your comment.

“Thank you for your concern and help,” Joel said, looking at the woman who snapped at you. “I honestly thought for a moment that I may have needed to call an ambulance for her. But as you can see, she’s ok. I’ll look after her and take her in tonight if she needs to be seen. Is that alright, honey?”

You gently nodded your head, looking up at him. Joel was holding you close to him, helping you feel safe.

“Y’all go home now. We got it under control. Thanks for offerin’ to help.”

People were mumbling as they started to disperse. Joel and you never paid attention to what they were saying.

“Do you think that we can get you to sit up without you passing out on me again?”

Joel gently cupped your cheek, looking straight into your eyes with concern. He didn’t like seeing you sick like this. You gently nodded your head at him as you went to sit up.

“Easy. Nice and slow, sweetheart, don’t rush it.” When Joel saw your eyes start to cross again, he thought he should have let that lady call you an ambulance.

“Woah there honey, come on now, look at me. Do I gotta call an ambulance for you after all, 'cause I will darlin’?” Joel placed his hand on your cheek, looking at you in the eyes. He was shifting his eyes back and forth, looking to see how you were responding.

“I’m fine, Joel. Just give me a minute, ok. If I need an ambulance, I’ll call one myself.”

Joel shook his head, disagreeing with you. “Darlin’, I don’t think you’re qualified to make that determination and decision right now.”

You let out a long and exhausted sigh. To Joel's defense, he didn't know where you worked full-time when you were feeling ok.

“Joel, this is said with as much love and appreciation as I can right now, but fuck off, please. Believe it or not, I’m a Paramedic, and I know-”

“Paramedic or not, passing out and being dizzy doesn’t qualify you to treat yourself. You know this.” Joel hated reminding you of one of the biggest lessons in medicine: you don't treat yourself. He could see you were slightly annoyed and irritated with him and the other bystanders here. He decided that maybe a little humor might help lighten the tense mood.

“For the record, darlin’. I believe the proper term is ‘fuck me, please.’ And you say it when I’m doing just that.”

That made you smile and laugh at the ridiculous statement of telling off the one man still beside you. With a little bit of sass, you also added, “Yeah, and then when we’re finished, you'll moan; ah, fuck, my back.”

“Ah, there she is. There’s my sassy girl.” Joel was now laughing at your sassy attitude and statement that you just made.

Joel looked down at you tenderly. Even though you were ill, you were still so beautiful. Joel cupped your cheek, slowly running his thumb up and down your skin. He watched you bite your lip, looking from his eyes to his lips. Tension started to fill between you both. The air was thick with it. Joel moved his hand to the back of your head, gently cradling it. He placed his forehead against yours, exhaling slowly, trying to control himself. He envisioned you underneath him but knew he couldn't tonight, not with you feeling under the weather. But soon, he'd take you in his bed and show you how a real man cared about a woman. But right now, he could give you something else. Joel slowly leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, soft, and passionate.

When your lips parted slightly, he deepened the kiss, licking into your mouth and massaging his tongue against yours. When the kiss picked up in intensity, soon, you both were wrestling your tongues together, fighting to hold yourselves back. You let out a little whimper, moaning slightly into his mouth as your tongues continued to dance together. Eventually, when he pulled back, you found that you both were gasping for air.

“Baby, I'll take pain in my back any day if it means that I get to kiss you and hear you moan like that when I fuck you.”

“Joel, please-”

“Later baby, later. I promise when you're feeling better. Now, come on, let's get you home.”

You didn’t know how you lucked out and won the lottery with the man standing before you. But goddamn, you were the richest girl in the world, especially when he kissed you like that. Joel wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you return to his truck to take you home. You didn't know then, but that would be the last first date you'd ever be on.

3 Years Later

Joel was sitting in his office, finishing up some much-overdue paperwork. He glanced up when he heard you enter, giving you a warm smile at seeing you. But when you didn't return it, he knew something was wrong. You looked exhausted, like you hadn't slept much, yet today was your day off.

“Are you ready to go, babe?” You were not trying to sound irritated, but you failed miserably.

You were uncomfortable, 32 weeks pregnant with Joel's child, a daughter, and she had spent all day kicking you hard in your internal organs. You were tired and frustrated, really not in the mood for grocery shopping with your husband. So when you got up to Joel's desk, you leaned back against it, placing your hand on your swelling stomach. You were trying to ease some of your discomfort. But as you did, you felt your daughter pick up with the constant kicks again. Usually, her kicks would give you comfort and joy, but not today. Today, your feet were aching, your back was hurting, and you were exhausted. You just wanted to lay down and rest today, but every time you attempted to, your daughter would give you hard, steady kicks against your internal organs.

“I’m almost done, sweetheart, then we'll go.” Joel smiled, quickly finishing up with his final notes from today.

Next week was Joel's 50th birthday, so this weekend, you wanted to throw him an outdoor barbeque with his closest friends and family to celebrate his birthday. You wanted to go shopping tonight for all the supplies for this weekend, and Joel agreed to go with you to help you pick out the items he wanted. He was looking forward to the barbeque, and you were too about three months ago when you first planned it. Now, you weren't too keen on the idea of hosting 30 people in your backyard when you were 32 weeks pregnant.

You let out another long sigh, feeling the weight of life once again kick the hell out of you. You reminded yourself that this is what you wanted, a baby to grow inside you. But right at this moment, you wanted to go back to the night Joel fucked you to conceive this little fire pistol and hit your husband right in the nuts.

“You know there, little one, you can stop kicking Mama so damn hard for once, and just quiet down, please.” You slowly rubbed your belly where you were feeling a fluttering of kicks. When Joel heard your discomfort, he immediately put his pen down and sat back in his chair.

“Baby, come here.”

You slowly shuffled over to your husband, standing between his widened legs, then gently leaned yourself back against his desk. As soon as you took up your proper standing position, Joel immediately took his hands and gently held each side of your belly, feeling his daughter kick both of you.

“Shh there, baby girl, don’t be so hard on your mama. Daddy missed you today.” Joel slowly leaned forward and kissed your belly several times while his daughter kicked.

You had a huge baby belly at 32 weeks pregnant and in your last trimester. If people looked at you from behind, they'd never know you were pregnant. But from the front, it looked like you swallowed a giant basketball. So, to put it mildly, you were exhausted.

Joel and you had been married for almost two years when you popped positive on a pregnancy test. You both weren’t trying for a baby. She came to you as a surprise, and you were so happy to have her. You had stopped your birth control the night of your wedding, hoping to get pregnant. But after two years and a lot of tests, you had given up on the ability to have kids. The doctors said that your body wasn’t accepting pregnancy because of your autoimmune disease. So you went on with life thinking that you couldn’t get pregnant at all. Then, by some miracle, the first night that you and Joel spent in the new house that you had built, he fucked you on every available surface, knocking you up somewhere between the kitchen counter and the coffee table. But now, as you rapidly approached your due date, you found yourself struggling with horrible exhaustion with the simple things in life like walking. You were lucky that your autoimmune disease had calmed down so much during pregnancy, a hidden fail-safe that most people didn’t know about. The problem was delivery day was rapidly approaching, and you were scared about what would happen with your autoimmune after your daughter came out. But today, you didn't concern yourself with those fears, as you were exhausted at the fact that she wouldn’t let you hardly sleep last night nor relax anytime today.

“Babe, what’s the matter?” Joel had stopped kissing your stomach and was now cautiously looking at his wife. You were breathing fast with your eyes closed.

“Honey, are you ok?” Again, you did not respond. Joel called your name, but you never opened your eyes. Your eyes were closed as your breathing became erratic.

“Hey, come on, look at me. Baby, open your eyes and look at me.”

“Jesus Joel, what?”

Joel's heart was in his throat at your lack of responding to him for a moment. He still didn't like how you were breathing, but at least now you were looking at him. He could see that you were frustrated, so he ignored that you snapped at him.

“Honey, talk to me, what's the matter?” Joel slowly rubbed your belly as he felt your daughter kick again. Tears welled up in your eyes, frustration and exhaustion being evident.

“I’m fine, it's just, it’s hard today, alright?” You placed your head in your hands as you felt your pregnancy hormones take over, and a light sob escaped your mouth.

Pregnancy hormones were complex every day, but today, they were awful. You hated the constant need of wanting your husband to be inside of you. You were horny for him, sex being something you haven't done in a few weeks again because of scheduling conflicts. But your daughter was constantly beating every organ inside of you, turning your need for your husband into something you couldn't do yet again. You were so exhausted today and just feeling so overwhelmed with life.

“Woah there, Angel, come on, talk to me. Baby, why are you crying? Are you getting contractions, honey?” Joel lowered his hand, trying to feel if contractions were starting anywhere on your belly.

“No, it's just she’s been kicking like this all day.”

When Joel realized your tears were out of the pain of kicks, and not contractions, and mostly frustration, he felt himself calm down. Joel gently rubbed your belly, trying to calm your daughter down.

“She's been kicking you all day like this, hasn't she?”

“Yes,” you winced as your daughter sucker punched the heck out of your ribs once again, causing you to wince and call out in pain.

“Woah, there, little lady, that was a powerful kick. How about we save those punches for when boys wanna come around later in life, huh? Give your mama a break and let her rest.”

Joel crouched down and kissed your belly again, talking to his daughter and trying to get her to quiet down for you. When he felt a strong kick against his mouth, he sat back and then scolded her.

“Excuse me there, Baby Miller, but kicking your daddy hard in the mouth isn't very nice. We'll have none of that behavior, young lady, ya hear me?”

“God, Joel, I love our daughter, but today, these kicks fucking hurt. I thought maybe you’d want me after shopping, but how do people do this?” You exhaled again as your daughter kicked your ribs on your other side, not as hard, but still a firm kick.

Joel slowly stood up and gently lifted your chin. When he spoke his next sentence, he wanted you to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Darlin’, don’t you ever question if I fucking want you, ya hear me. Baby, I always want you, day or night; it doesn't matter. And for the record, it isn’t me who needs any prep time to get in the mood; it's you. But with kicks like this, I’m assuming it’s a no again for any intimate time, which is okay.”

Joel raised his hands defensively, ensuring you understood that he didn’t expect anything from you. But when he turned to walk across the room to grab his raincoat, you mumbled sarcastically under your breath. “No, the real reason is I look like a stupid whale; that’s why you don’t want me.”

Hearing what you said, Joel immediately spun around and glared at you. He was upset you were talking down to yourself and how you looked. You were his wife, who was carrying his child, and god dammit, you weren't a whale, and he did want you. You were a sexy, beautiful, attractive woman, even while pregnant. Joel loved you, but your constant put-downs of yourself were starting to tick him off.

“What was that? What did y’say?”

“Nothin’,” you mumbled, knowing that Joel heard you criticize yourself. You knew you should have just kept your mouth shut.

Joel slowly approached you and placed his coat on the chair. You looked down, slowly biting your lip.

“No, little girl, eyes up here.” Joel gently grabbed your chin and tilted your head up. When your eyes met his, you saw that they were impossibly dark, pupils were blown wide with lust.

“First, darlin', you ain't a whale, so none of that. And second, you're my wife who's pregnant with my daughter; that's sexy by itself, baby. And for the record, I fucking want you.” Joel grabbed your ass and gave it a firm squeeze while slowly thrusting his hips against your closed heat. You could feel that he was already hard, but he didn’t rip off your clothes. That’s not what you needed right now, and you both knew that.

Joel slowly reached out and started stroking your belly lightly while gently tilting your head to give you a slow, tender kiss. However, very quickly you were the one to deepen the kiss, nipping his lower lip and shoving your tongue in his mouth. Joel growled at your heated kiss, struggling to keep his composure with you.

“Darlin', if we don't slow down, I won't be held responsible for what I will do. Do not tease me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth.

But you didn't want to listen, nipping Joel again on the lip, trying to provoke a heated reaction from him. As he went to give you a gentle tap on your ass and to rip your pants off, you let out a sudden cry in pain.

“Fuck, shit, ow.”

“Ok, darlin', enough horsing around, what's happening?” Joel snapped at you, no longer wanting to play this game of you not communicating with him when he could see your discomfort.

“It's your damn child kicking my freaking cervix Joel. God, why is she doing this today?”

“I don't know, baby, but how about we head home? I'll give you a massage and try to get her to calm down. You're stressed mama, and that's unhealthy for you and our daughter. Now come on, up we go.”

Joel made good on his promise to take you home and help you relax. About five minutes after he began massaging your belly, your daughter finally calmed down. Apparently, she just wanted a little attention from her daddy. About fifteen minutes after she settled in, you finally fell asleep, exhaustion winning. As Joel looked down at your resting form, all swollen and pregnant with his child, he smiled. Life was extraordinary, giving him the chance to have a family again, but this time when he was older and almost 50.

Joel made dinner and let you sleep the rest of the night. Later, as he lay next to your sleeping form, he felt his heart swell with affection and love for you. He reached out and gently touched your belly, feeling his daughter was finally calm and asleep. He stared at you in the dark, until his eyes felt heavy with sleep and he found himself drifting off to thoughts of you. Joel didn't care what people thought about whether he should be with you at such an older age. Joel was damn happy that you were in his life, and to believe that this all started because of a simple debate about pineapple on your pizza. And that was the best 50th birthday present ever: the chance to have happiness once again.

End Part 2

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eggcats · 7 months ago

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I do have an idea of Alastor taking Vox pet shopping, because Vox mentioned having a dog when he was alive and missing having a companion

Alastor agrees to get him a pet, as long as it ISN'T a dog

Vox cannot believe THIS is the one line Alastor won't cross, not even using his most adorable digital face changed his mind - but Vox still wants a pet, so he agrees. No dogs.

(They haven't been together long enough for Vox to LEARN why no dogs was such a big deal, here - I kind of think that's something Alastor doesn’t talk about until they've been together for like 10-20 years).

So! They go to a pet store, and Vox immediately wants the giant dog-like shark.

(Alastor tries to say no, but Vox is like "C'mon it's not a dog!!! *insert cute anime eyes before that was even a concept* so Alastor relents).

And the poor shop employee is like, trying to figure out how to tell the fucking Radio Demon and the guy who's starting to take over all the media that they probably don't have the ability to care for the shark-dog thing. (Think, stressed PetSmart employee trying to go "No, a baby bunny isn't a good gift for Easter" except to a serial killer actively covered in blood, here. That's the visual I'm thinking of).

[side note: why do I punish poor minimum wage employees constantly, I promise I have also worked a minimum wage job working for the general public, lol]

But when the employee explains that the shark-dog thing needs a large body of water (probably ocean) to swim in often, Alastor is just like "Oh I can summon that, easily. I'll add it to the guest bedroom since Vox no longer uses it." And Vox is like, what do you MEAN that's something you can do?? You can't just drop casual lore like that at the pet store!

Alastor is like "?? Darling, what do you mean? I have a bayou in my room in the closet? A little beach isn't any more difficult."

And it turns out that when Vox moved in, Alastor told him not to go in that closet. Alastor meant it in a "don't go in there without me, because wandering in a bayou could be dangerous if you don't know where you are/how to do so safely" kind of way.

Vox, however, took it in a Bluebeard kind of way and was like, "Easy, I'm not having him murder me, so he'll be stuck with me forever. Win/win scenario, I solved the fairytale" and just assumed he DID because they're dating now.

And Alastor is left staring with the most confused smile on his face, trying to come to terms with the fact that Vox just casually accepted that he was living in a Bluebeard-like scenario, and his response was to play by the rules so he can stay with Alastor.

(They get the shark-dog. Vox names it Vark. Alastor immediately takes away his "allowed to name new things" privilege, but it's too late. It only responds to Vark).

#sorry i spend all my time thinking of stupid things for these idiots to do #long post #the way this is such a random reach but this is how my brain works lmao #i love their miscommunication bc its always so funny to me #just Alastor being like hey dont go in here bc it could be dangerous on your own #and vox hearing 'OH this is like Bluebeard! i can win this easy' and thinking he did bc now him and Alastor are dating #is too funny a visual for me to pass up #i realize he has vark much more later in canon but that doesn't matter to me so #Housewife Vox AU

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crushmeeren · 1 year ago

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Fem Reader/Simon Petrikov — Fionna & Cake Version

Warnings; slight cursing, sometimes Simon struggles getting hard, blowjobs, vaginal sex, squirting, mention of masturbating

Note; I wrote this for my Simon girlies 😭—also I’m just unhinged, I needed to write this so badly okay. just please enjoy this brain food about sweet Simon and his struggles being older and getting hard. I really do hope this reaches the people searching for it. 🫶🏻

••••

When you started sleeping with Simon, you already knew that he was older than you, quite a bit older in fact. Not that it’s an issue—especially since you find older men unbearably attractive anyways. You think it may have to do with the fact that the age difference can be such a taboo subject, but you digress.

Let’s be honest, Simon is so, well—pretty, for lack of a better word. It never fails to drive you up the wall. So when you did start fucking—it was a pure fantasy come true moment for you.

It’s just—you’ve started to notice something intriguing. At first, it was just a fleeting thought. Now, you’ve realized that when you do get to be naked and tangled in Simon’s sheets—those times are often sporadic, spaced out, inconsistent.

Which is of course okay, you wouldn’t ever pressure him to do more than he wanted. You just —you can’t help but wish he wanted to have sex more often. Selfish, you know. But surprisingly enough—the old man has a damn filthy deep stroke! Hell, Simon’s the only one who’s ever made you cum enough to squirt.

All that being said, you do feel a little guilty, because you know your sexual appetite is sky high. You’ve been told so on more than one occasion and you’ve generally come to terms with it. You’re more than happy to take care of yourself when needed.

But after awhile of this mouth watering, mind numbing sex, you become aware that Simon seems to only want to roll around in the sheets with you once per meet up. Again, nothing wrong with that, but the seed of mild curiosity as to why he doesn’t want to do more has been planted in your mind.

The first time this new concept rattles around in your brain, it’s more of an absent thought. Really just a casual observation. It’s during one evening in which Simon’s able to direct you away from the train of thought that leads to a second round so easily it’s creepy.

You only remember later when you’ve gone back home, close to passing out for the night. Charming bastard.

Truthfully it only starts to consume and rot your brain after you start spending the night in his bed more often than not. Instead of going home like you were before. The heavy palm of realization smacks you across the cheek when you’re staying the night with Simon one night over the weekend.

You’re both lying comfortably in Simon’s bed. Soft blankets covering you up to your shoulders as you lay on your side, watching your pretty companion. He’s propped up by a couple pillows against the headboard, reading part of his book in the gentle glow of his bedside lamp.

The man looks relaxed. Salt & pepper hair starting to curl slightly at the ends due to previous activities causing him to sweat. His cheeks are still a barely there rosy pink. He’s also only in briefs at this point, chest bare. The sight causes desire to spark heavily in your belly once again & you can’t help your next moves.

Failing in an attempt to be sneaky, you stretch languidly, reaching over to gently rest a hand on his bare belly. The pads of your fingers moving to tickle the soft expanse of skin over his ribs, causing him to shiver.

You see Simon chew his bottom lip as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. He’s white knuckling the edges of his book as you continue to teasingly trail your fingers over his sensitive flesh.

“Are you alright lovely?” Simon’s soft voice dances in your ears. He’s looking down at you directly now, absently adjusting his glasses. You answer with an affirmative hum, dragging your fingers up the middle of his sternum.

You swallow a breathy sigh as you notice his nipples get hard from your feathery touch. Simon looks like he can’t help the way his eyes flutter shut momentarily.

“M’alright Si, how about you?” You murmur, brushing a thumb over his perky nipple. Simon gasps softly at the touch, squirming and the lusty action causes your pussy to clench. The familiar delicious, low burn of arousal licking at your lower belly. Fuck, this wasn’t your intention, but now you want to ride Simon until he’s whimpering and drooling.

“I’m well sweetheart, but don’t you think it’s time to sleep?” He coos, letting his open book rest in his lap. He runs the backs of his knuckles over your cheek lovingly. It does not stop you from pouting.

“Siiiiii,” you whine, slightly confused, but pulling your hand back to your chest. He’s not wrong, it is late & you are tired. But now you’ve worked yourself up, the thought of sex very tantalizing.

“I know what you want silly girl, it’s late though. How about we try in the morning?” Simon soothes, setting his book and glasses on his bedside table. Effectively shutting down the possibility of a second round.

“Fine,” you huff, pushing out your lower lip at him. “But I definitely am jumping your bones in the morning.” Simon laughs, the sound overwhelmingly sweet, and turns off the bedside lamp.

“Deal sweetheart,” he breathes, lying on his side to face you. Pushing at your shoulder to turn you around so he can spoon you. You oblige, letting him pull you back into his chest, snuggling under the covers.

You feel Simon’s plush lips brush over your the nape of your neck in a kiss, bidding you goodnight. You let your entire back side press up against his front, getting comfortable, soaking up his body heat. As you drift off, you realize that Simon wasn’t even the least bit hard from your teasing.

••••

It’s early when you start to stir. You crack an eye open, able to make out vague shapes in Simon’s room. Rays from the rising sun starting to peak through the blinds, casting small shadows all around.

Simon’s arm flexes around your waist and you can feel the warmth of his slow, rhythmic breathing ghosting over the back of your neck. It makes a shiver rumble down your spine.

Your thoughts are jumbled at best, arm tingling under the pillow you’ve been resting your head on. Too warm, too cozy, you think. You’re covered completely with a fuzzy blanket, Simon’s toasty, naked chest radiates warmth through your shirt to your skin. It feels like you’re cocooned in a blanket just taken out of the dryer.

You’re falling prey to the cozy atmosphere, letting it lull you back to sleep when Simon’s hand slowly slips under your large T-shirt, smoothing over your hip before resting on your stomach.

It’s innocent at first, but then his nails start to scratch soothingly back & forth over your lower belly. Each pass he teases downwards. Getting closer & closer to the patch of curly hair that sits above your clit.

You’re unsure if he’s being intentional or not, but your brain has shaken off some of the groggy feeling at this point. The sensual sensation of Simon’s fingers give your pussy its own heartbeat. You rub your thighs together in frustration.

“Si,” you whisper, voice saturated with sleep. Simon only makes a soft, sleepy noise in return. His breathing hasn’t changed, you assume he’s still asleep. You wiggle in place, entire body flushing hotly underneath the blanket as his fingers continue to torture you.

Your stomach clenches involuntarily when he barely brushes the skin connected to the top of your curly patch of hair. Heat smolders low & sweet in your lower belly, you’re getting extremely turned on. Clit throbbing painfully.

Yet Simon doesn’t move his hand any lower. Almost as if it’s meant to be a comforting gesture instead of a sexual one. Briefly, the thought of pushing his hand lower occurs to you.

You desperately want the older man to play with your clit. For Simon to rub slow, sweet circles into your perky bud until your blood feels like it’s been replaced with a warm, syrupy heat. Except he’s not budging & you’re going to cry if you don’t get some relief.

“Simon,” you whine quietly, flipping around in his hold until your face to face. He doesn’t open his eyes yet, answering with a questioning hum, settling his warm palm on the flushed skin near your hip bone.

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe, rolling the man onto his back with a firm push to his shoulder. He goes easily with your touch. Instantly, you’re straddling his hips, blanket now pooling around his thighs. You’re wide awake as you take in Simon’s adorable, sleepy appearance. Dark hair splayed around his head.

“No, m’not,” Simon rasps, voice thick with sleep. His eyebrows are scrunched cutely, half lidded eyes staring up at you. The older man was clearly dead asleep.

“Yes you are,” you hiss playfully, leaning down to trail kisses up his neck and over his jaw. He sinks his nails into the tops of your thighs. A heady pulse of arousal shoots to your pussy as he grips you tightly.

“Nnngh! Sugar,” Simon whimpers, tilting his head. He sounds too sweet and you’re worried your pussy may be leaving sticky kisses on his pelvis from how wet you’re getting.

“You’re acting clueless, but I know it was on purpose, Si,” you murmur softly, pressing the words into his skin, lowering your mouth and sucking on the skin over his adams apple.

“I-oh gods, it wasn’t on purpose,” Simon chokes on a moan, arching his back slightly, base of his skull digging into the pillow.

“I don’t believe you,” you whisper in his ear, smoothing your hands up his chest & pinching at his perky nipples. Simon jerks violently underneath you, crying out. Your blood sings in response. You need his thick cock inside you now—or you might die.

You shift your hips backwards, fully intending on grinding your ass over his cock, but then Simon’s hands are gripping your waist frantically.

“Sugar—wait!” He gasps, trying to hold you still. You’re already grinding yourself down onto him as he speaks. Shocked, you feel that he’s, at best, only half hard. Stilling in his grip you glance back at his face. From what you can see, his cheeks are turning pink and he looks away from you shyly.

“You okay Si? Do you need me to stop?” You prod, feeling concerned you’ve done something he didn’t want. His gaze snaps back to your face, eyes wide. He shakes his head desperately.

“No! No, don’t stop lovely, I really am enjoying myself,” he pauses to worry his bottom lip, urging you closer to him with a soft squeeze to your hips. “You know that I’m quite older than you, right my dear?” Once both your hands are planted on the mattress by his head, Simon gingerly places his palm on your cheek to cradle it.

“I know Si,” you sigh happily, leaning into his touch.

“It’s a bit embarrassing, but…sometimes it’s a bit harder for me to get it up, even if I’m extremely turned on,” Simon admits, voice low & sultry. He rubs a thumb over your cheekbone. Your arousal burns with a vengeance.

“That’s not embarrassing baby, I..kind of think it’s hot I’ll have to do a bit more to get your cock hard,” you mumble, cheeks sweltering as you tilt your head to kiss his palm. Your belly warms, twisting harshly with arousal and shame.

Simon gasps softly in your mouth when you take it upon yourself to lean down, firmly kissing his velvety lips. He feels fucking amazing. You move together so smoothly, letting Simon swallow your sinful moans as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

Simon lets both his hands frame your neck, thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat. You whine as your tongues play together, Simon licking behind your teeth and suddenly you can’t take it anymore. You break apart slightly to breathe, chest heaving.

“M’gonna suck your cock Si,” you whisper breathily against his lips. Simon chokes on a breath. Determined, you start kissing down his chest. Pillowy soft lips brushing over his nipples before continuing downwards.

Simon squeaks from the attention to his nipples, fisting the sheets under him. You easily snake your way between his thighs, fingers hooked in the waistband of his briefs.

“Oh! A-are you sure my love?” Simon moans, feeling you kiss the sensitive skin directly above his waistband. You just hum, sliding his briefs down, purposely letting his half hard cock catch on the stretchy band. He sucks in air through his teeth as soon as his cock is free.

You almost drool over the way his cute dick slaps softly against his pelvis. Your pussy aches as you pull his underwear off all the way. Taking the chance, you also peel off the shirt you were wearing, tossing it to the floor. Simon flushes to his chest, staring at your tits.

“Your cock looks so cute like this Simon,” you croon, getting back onto your belly. The older man whines, titling his head down to watch you place chaste kisses on his shaft. The silky, warm skin feeling so good on your lips. You’re so turned on right now it almost pisses you off.

Making sure Simon’s cock stays straight the way you want, you nudge your thumb right up under the crown of his head—keeping his cock stretched slightly, pinned to his pelvis. Lazily, you place several kisses, letting his cock guide you down to his balls— where you lick the puckered skin of each one.

Simon yelps as you suck one in to your mouth, laving your tongue over it. The older man’s nails dig into the back of your skull, making your scalp tingle down to your neck.

“Please lovely, please, don’t tease,” Simon mewls, feeling you release his ball with a wet pop. His dick twitches a little under your thumb when you stare up at him with a wolfish grin. He’s a little harder now.

“So needy Si,” you tease, moving your hands to his thighs, swallowing down his entire semi hard cock in one go. Simon wails, hips jerking up as you teasingly pull your mouth back up his cock, sucking harshly.

You moan around him, starting a brain melting pace for him as you suck on his cock. Flicking your tongue over the head with each pass. Your eyes flutter shut, taking a second to appreciate the way he tastes.

Simon is panting harshly above you, whimpering and moaning. The delicious noises he’s letting out are making you want to squeeze your legs together for any type of relief.

Ignoring your own arousal for now, you keep up your pace for a couple minutes, feeling Simon writhing in your grip. He’s only a tad bit harder now but you don’t let that stop you. Your jaw aches, but you eagerly move a hand to his balls, kneading them between your fingers.

That..seems to do the trick. If only because the noise Simon produces sounds as if it was wrenched from his chest. You bob your head a few more times & suddenly he’s rock hard in your mouth. Cock hitting the back of your throat consistently as he rolls his hips to meet your movements.

Simon’s going insane—wiggling, whining like you’re torturing him. Back arching, trying to fuck your mouth. You would giggle if your mouth wasn’t full.

“Princess,” he gasps, pushing at your forehead. “Enough, please. I want to be inside you,” Simon moans, voice breaking at the end of his sentence. It’s like music to your ears and internally you pat yourself on the back for being able to get him hard.

Your lips pop off his cock with an obscene sound, watching it slap wetly against his lower belly. You could drool seeing how full and heavy his cock is. It glistens from your saliva. Pretty dick twitching under your gaze.

Urgently, you crawl out from between Simon’s legs flopping down on your stomach next to him. You turn your head to see his expression. His face is flushed, he turns his head to stare back at you, mouth open as he pants.

“Fuck me from behind Si, please??” You purr, desperately getting onto your knees and pushing your ass into the air. Letting your cheek squish on the mattress, the soft sheets warming underneath your skin. Simon groans as if he’s in pain. He vanishes in a flash, crawling around to get behind you.

You wait, knowing your pussy is drooling for him, clit swollen and throbbing—just wanting Simon to fuck the shit out of you.

“There’s no way I could say no sugar,” Simon croons. You almost could cry in relief, gripping the blanket below, fabric bunching in your fingers when Simon trails the pad of his thumb through your slick folds, thumb slippery where it circles your clit.

“Si don’t, please, I don’t need anything else—just fuck me,” you beg, wiggling your hips on his pelvis.

“Hush princess, you know I’ll give you what you want,” Simon teases. As he speaks, the tip of his cock parts your folds, slowly pushing his tip inside, stretching your pussy just the way you like—the anticipation of being filled is killing you.

A high pitched moan is ripped from your throat as he bottoms out in one smooth thrust. The pure pleasure of it rushes up your spine to your brain, pussy clenching around Simon as he carves out a space for his cock.

“Si, baby, you feel s’good,” you slur, nuzzling your face against the mattress. Nails dig into your fleshy hips as Simon moans lowly in his throat at your praise.

You’re absolutely not prepared for the immediate rough, fast pace that Simon sets. You howl his name as he starts yanking you back into his thrusts, pussy stretching to fit his cock repeatedly.

You’re in heaven, Simon’s actually fucking you. Usually he starts slower, building up to it—not this time. You’re absolutely loving it, having to muffle your near screams into the mattress as Simon perfectly hits your g-spot over and over. Each thrust sending waves of warm tingles shooting to the tips of your toes.

“Is—ah fuck, is this what you wanted sugar?” Simon grunts, unable to hold in his sweet moans.

“Yes! Fuck Simon!” You cry out, voice edging into a sob. He almost growls under his breath, the lewd sound of his pelvis smacking wetly against your ass, echoing through the room. Simon rests a dainty hand on your tailbone, guiding your ass back into his movements.

The sensual action forcing the familiar knot of an impending orgasm start to tighten up in your lower belly. Simon’s fucking you perfectly. You’re clawing at the sheets, pushing your ass back into his movements and it’s over.

Your heart is in your throat, pussy fluttering, and you don’t even have time to warn Simon before you’re cumming so hard your vision gets blurry. Entire body tensing up, warm waves of pleasure rushing through your limbs. No sounds escaping you as you’re worked through your orgasm relentlessly.

“Oh! Sugar, you’re cumming already? That’s such a good girl, give me another one, pretty please princess?” Simon breathes, asking sweetly. Completely opposite to the way he’s railing you. The man’s trying to rearrange your guts.

You nod against the mattress, chest sticky with sweat. Melting just a tad, your limbs become even more bendable as the overwhelming high of your orgasm fades to low buzzing pleasure. Simon sees the opportunity and takes it, pressing both hands into your lower back, forcing your spine into a deeper arch.

You inhale sharply. The new angle allowing Simon to press his cock even harsher against your sweet spot. He’s merciless and you know you’re re gonna squirt this time when you cum.

“Si, oh fuck, oh my god, m’gonna squirt!” Your lower belly tenses up, pleasure swirly hotly in your gut. There’s a pressure on your bladder intensifying to a sharp peak.

“Really? Oh sugar, I love it when you squirt, please do it for me,” Simon encourages eagerly, pressing harder on your sweat slick back.

“Simonnn,” you sob, dragging out the last syllable of his name. The older man gets his wish, because it only takes a handful of thrusts until you’re cumming again, toes curling so tight you think you may get a cramp. Hot liquid gushes from your pussy, showering the sheets below and decorating parts of Simon’s thighs.

“Princess, oh, oh my—,” Simon cuts off with a throaty groan, pushing his cock in all the way to the root, draping over your back as he starts to cum. You’re just starting to return to earth as you feel his cock twitch, filling you with sticky, warm cum.

You feel gooey, exhausted & overheated as Simon leans his weight on you. You push your knees out from under you so you both collapse to the mattress, letting out an oof as you land. Wincing, you feel the mess you made chilly against your thighs.

“Si, get off—you’re heavy,” you huff. Simon laughs, letting his soft cock slip out of you as he rolls off and onto his back. You stretch, sighing happily as the two of you lay in silence, soaking in the after sex glow for a few minutes. Simon’s voice cuts through the air.

“So, you really don’t mind about my, uh, issue,” he asks shyly, shifting to see your face. You gaze up at him adoringly, turning onto your side.

“I definitely don’t mind, I told you, I think it’s kind of hot. Makes me feel like I earned a reward,” you giggle, searching for his hand and lacing your fingers together.

“Mm, you’ll definitely have to spend the night more often. Maybe we could even consider becoming something…more than causal lovers,” Simon murmurs, squeezing your hand in return.

“I’d love that,” you whisper, chest blossoming with warmth. Simon grins sheepishly at you in return. Eventually, you two do get up, changing the sheets, before falling back asleep for the rest of the morning—looking forward to the sweet promise of the future.

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