#if you try to fit yourself into something you aren't -- it can work but will you have as much fun??

[jlle-marie]

here’s a part of my underground!levi x reader fic i’m working on (part one should be posted soon btw) but i needed to share this little extract which deserves its own post <3

(it’s a long fic called "I'll meet you under blue sky" about meeting levi in the underground city before he joins the scouts and where you once lived above the ground) this scene comes later in the story and can be understood on its own. angsty fic but this part is just fluff, so enjoy! wc: 1k

When Levi walks through the door of your home, his ODM gear still firmly attached to his body, you can't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. A glint of mischief passes through your eyes as you watch him.

“So you're a soldier now, huh?” you decide to tease him today, a faint smile on your lips.

He fixes you with his usual impassive gaze, but there's a hint of reaction in his eyes, something almost imperceptible. “Not exactly, it’s just useful here,” he replies dryly, “So you do know this,” he states calmly, his deep voice hinting at an interest he rarely shows.

Your smile widens for a moment. “Of course I know, it's the military's gear. But... you, on the other hand, aren't supposed to know,” you reply, questioning him with your eyes, suddenly intrigued.

Levi walks into the room, approaching the table where you're standing. He raises an eyebrow, a look of challenge on his face. “I know more than you think,” he replies.

You feel your heart beating faster, your curiosity piqued. “I don't doubt it,”  you murmur as you stare at him, a mixture of admiration and questioning in your eyes. The idea that he could have access to something so rare and dangerous fascinates you.

“Do you want to know how it works?” he asks, without really expecting an answer, his hands already starting to undo the straps.

“Are you going to give me a lesson, soldier?” a smile lights up your face as you joke again.

A slight sneer grazes Levi’s lips, almost against his will. “Let’s say it's my turn to teach you something”.

You've never touched this stuff in your life, so you put on the gear, trying to figure out where each strap fits. Levi watches carefully as you try to adjust to the equipment, his gaze settling on your clumsy movements.

“Don't rush it,” he says, pointing to the too-loose strap hanging over your chest. “This thing needs a good fit.”

You look up at him, a little embarrassed, but he seems relaxed, almost calm in his role. Without a word, he takes the strap from your hands and begins to adjust it for you, his movements confident and precise. He adjusts the strap around your chest, tightening slightly so that it's comfortable, but not too much pressure.

“Of course…” you say, trying to hide the slight tremor in your voice as he moves closer to adjust the straps around you. He's taking care of every detail, and you feel almost embarrassed to be so incompetent in this area.

Despite his impassive expression, Levi feels his heart beating a little too fast for his liking. Every move he makes to adjust the equipment brings him closer to you, and he does his best to keep calm.

His eyes roam over the gear now suitably installed on your body before he steps forward to stand behind you . “Here, I'll show you how it works,” he begins to explain.

Behind you, his body almost pressed against your back, he's so close you can feel the warmth of his presence. It's almost strange, this light touch, and you force yourself to ignore the heat that invades your face. He speaks in a low voice, his breath occasionally grazing the back of your neck.

“Here, place one hand on either side…” He raises an arm and points to the handles on the belt of the gear. “Yes, like that…” He seems to be concentrating, but you sense a certain tension in his movements, as if he too were not completely at ease.

“It has to be stable... If you're comfortable... it's easier to control.”

You try to understand everything he's saying, but the way he's moving around you, his precise, methodical gestures, throw you off balance. You nod, but your voice betrays you, hesitant. “Erm... I think…”

Levi tilts his head, “What? I thought you wanted to try out the gear properly, didn't you?” he says, deliberately choosing to tease you, pretending not to notice your little reaction.

He gets a soft laugh from you in response and feels a little satisfaction, continuing to guide you slowly so that you fully understand how to do it.

“Here the kind of cylinders at the back,” Levi explains, his hands moving to show you the gas trigger that's attached to the belt around your hips. “When you want to pull a grapple cable, you have to hold the controller here,” he says, pointing to the mechanism on the belt.

Levi places his hand on your waist to steady your grip, “It's just like when you showed me how to hold a pencil to write,” he mutters, his fingers hovering close to your skin.

His words pull a small from you though the faint brush of his touch sends a shiver through you. You try not to pay attention, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Levi inhales slowly, as if to remind himself that he's in control. “Don't move so much,” he murmurs when he feels the slight tremors of your body against his chest as you laugh once more.

But the warmth of your back against him, the way your movements disturb him slightly... he can't help wondering if you feel it too. He sighs slightly without meaning to, but he can't help feeling a little... lost.

With the feeling of his breath fanning over your neck, a sudden and unwanted thought creeps in—what would it feel like if his lips brushed your skin? If he pressed them, just lightly— You shift abruptly, trying to shake off the embarrassing thought by adjusting the equipment. With a sudden movement your hands slip, sending part of the gear clattering to the ground.

This creates a metallic noise that makes you jump. “Sorry!” You scramble to pick up the fallen pieces, the feeling of embarrassment overwhelming you even more.

Levi sighs softly, “It's all right.” He leans over to help you put things back. 

“It's just…” Levi hesitates for a moment, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he looks away. “The gear's easier to wear if you don't panic.”

You try to regain your composure, even though his relaxed demeanor only accentuates your unease. For the first time, you realize how unapproachable and calm he seems to you, while you can't even hold the gear properly.

“It's just that it's so heavy…” you murmur, trying to hide your embarrassment with an explanation that's only half true.

Levi nods, a slight smile on his face, as if he finds the situation a little funny, but he doesn't say anything more. He just looks at you, his presence surprisingly reassuring despite your obvious awkwardness.

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[nullbutler]

I think the assumption "oh autistic people will always exist outside of social norms, and it's either they mask and act like neurotypicals or are just completely Not" is very false. with my autistic friends, it kinda feels like there's another book of social norms that we make for ourselves. some of those rules may include

taking turns info dumping -- remembering to pay attention during the other's info-dump and asking relevant questions. with that, second hand investment. generally leads to more meaningful relationships

remembering each other's sensory needs. like if I'm in a crowded room and I see my friend is acting noticeably out of it (or vice versa), suggesting to go outside and just talk one-on-one or even a simple "you ok?" helps

the 'do not hate on each other's hyper fixations' rule. if someone likes something to THAT point, immediately shitting on it hurts! it's like...hyperfixation-talk and regular-media talk. ex "I like trains" "trains are fucking stupid" like WHat

always intervening when you hear another person shit talking your friend on the basis that they're autistic

the old "this made me think of you" texts, pictures, gifts, etc

understanding that sometimes it takes a lot of time for one person to get in the right headspace to reply to a message, and not holding that against them

the very niche type of humor that comes together when two very mentally ill people are put in the same room lol

the way our tone can be kinda off, but we still know what the other person means. not because they particularly sound sarcastic, but because we know what sarcasm sounds like coming out of that person. similar with joking, etc

no shame when you need breaks from each other or are socially tired

[desertskiespodcast]

I tried to write a novel. Not once. Not twice. But about 12 times. Here's how that would play out: 1. I sit down and knock out 10 pages 2. I share it with someone 3. They say "It's goooood" like it's not good 4. I ask for critical feedback 5. They say, "Well....the plot just moves so quickly. So much happens in the first few pages it doesn't feel natural." So I'd write more drafts. I'd try to stretch out the story. I would add dialogue that I tried to make interesting but thought was boring. I would try including environment and character descriptions that felt unnecessary, (why not just let people imagine what they want?) Anyways, I gave up trying to write because in my mind, I wasn't a fiction writer. Maybe I could write a phonebook or something. But then I made a fiction podcast, and I waited for the same feedback about the fast moving plot, but guess what??? Podcasts aren't novels. The thing that made my novels suck became one of the things that made Desert Skies work. I've received some criticism since the show started, but one thing I don't receive regular complaints about is being overly-descriptive or longwinded. In fact, the opposite. It moves fast enough that it keeps peoples attention. I always felt I had a knack for telling stories but spent years beating myself up because I couldn't put those stories into novel form. The problem wasn't me. The problem was the tool I was trying to use. All that to say: If, in your innermost parts you may know that you're a storyteller but you just can't write a book, don't give up right away. You can always do things to get better and there's a lot of good resources. But if you do that for a while and novel writing just isn't your thing, try making a podcast, or creating a comic, or a poem, or a play, or a tv script. You might know you're an artist but suck at painting. Try making a glass mosaic, or miniatures, or try charcoal portraits, or embroider or collage. You might know you're a singer, but opera just isn't working out. Why not yodel? I could keep listing out examples, but the point is this. Trust your intuitions when it comes to your creative abilities, but don't inhibit yourself by becoming dogmatic about which medium you can use to express that creativity. Don't be afraid to try something new. Don't be afraid to make something new. You might just find the art form that fits the gift you knew you always had, and what it is might surprise you

[fairy-angel222]

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𐙚⋆.˚

You'd been such a bad girl for him, so bratty and rude. No punishment would be fit enough than tying your hands and legs together and making you sit on a couch near the bed.

Your eyes watery as you whimpered desperately into the pair of panties stuffed between your lips. Trying to rub your thighs together for any kind of friction to your aching clit.

Geto only smirked, tangling his fingers into Gojo's hair before lifting the moaning man to face you. Gojo's eyes filled with pleasure filled tears as they met yours.

His back arching deeply as Geto hammered roughly into his ass.

"This could've been both of you baby." Geto groaned. "Ya couldn't been getting fucked this good if you weren't such a brat." He spat.

Your pleas were muffled by the drool filled fabric, your wetness dripping lewdly onto your thighs and the chair below you. Rutting your hips back and forth in an attempt to feel something, anything, on your throbbing clit.

Gojo let out a cry, his body trembling as Geto held his back flush on his chest. His hand wrapping around the white haired man's neck with a deep grunt. "Such a good boy f' me Satoru." Gojo's eyes rolling back with a mewl. "Such a good fucking boy. Taking me so well."

You watched as Gojo neared his orgasm, Geto reaching forward to stroke at his sensitive cock. Gojo unable to help the loud moans and whimpers leaving his mouth as his pleasure doubled, body trembling as he experienced the most mind blowing orgasm.

Something that you could’ve gotten too.

"Look at her when you cum." Geto growled lowly, his own cock twitching as he whispered into Gojo's ear. Hard thrusts lewd and sloppy as he forced the white haired man to keep eye contact with you.

"Ahh- Suguruu," Gojo cried out, his abs tensing as his voice cracked, coming undone with a high pitched moan. Thick spurts of his cum spilling into the air in front of him with a shiver.

Geto hummed, spilling deep into Gojo with his eyes on you and a smirk on his face. Chuckling darkly at the pouty glare you attempted to give him. "Listen baby, if Satoru manages to fuck you properly while i fuck him, then you can cum." He suggests.

And you nodded eagerly, your pussy aching with need at the idea of getting stuffed. Gojo panted heavily, whimpering when Geto pulled out of him to go untie you. Feeling the man's cum leaking out of him and onto the sheets, some of it running messily down his thighs.

"You're so mean Sugu." you mumbled when you were untied, Geto's fingers under your chin lifting your head to look up at him. "Don't make me change my mind."

You whimpered in protest. "N-no wait! ‘M sorry, I'll be a good girl i promise."

"Good."

You quickly found yourself being shoved onto your hands and knees, Gojo fucking into you while Geto fucked into him. The dark haired man controlling the pace and rhythm with his harsh thrusts.

You and Gojo were so noisy. Your whiny moans echoing in the room as you were both fucked dumb. Gojo's cock prodding at your g spot as it pierced deep into you. His hips slamming roughly into you each time Geto mercilessly drilled into his ass. Fat cock kissing his prostate repeatedly.

You let out a loud cry, Gojo's grip on your hips tightening as a string of mewls fell past your lips. The stimulation on both ends driving him crazy as he let Geto do all the work, practically fucking him in and out of you.

"Look at you two. Two dumb little cock sluts f' me aren't ya?" Geto mused, enjoying the way you were both falling apart under him. "So fucking pretty, both of you." he groaned. Rolling his hips to hit Gojo's prostate meanly, making the man let out a broken cry. His breathing getting heavy as his legs shook under him. You clenching down on his cock so tightly not making his situation any better.

"Suguru— nngh— Satoru, s-so go-odd," you moaned, your back arching as your vision blurred, drowning out Gojo's cries and Geto's groans as your head became fuzzy. Your lips parting in a string of short screams as you got closer and closer to the edge.

"Nngh— 'm gonna cum. O-oh fuck- ahhh, 'm gonna cum," you babbled shakily.

"Ahh, me t-too— nngh." Gojo voiced, his head falling back onto Geto's shoulder while your hands went limp under you. Your cheek pressed into the sheets making him reach so much deeper. Cock grazing your g spot all the more sweeter.

"Shit— both of you are doing so well. Moaning so damn sluttily- fuck, let it out sweethearts.. that's it." Geto encouraged. Both you and Gojo shaking uncontrollably as you came. Gojo painting your walls white as you moaned, pussy squirting messily onto his cock.

"Get down on your knees f'me." Geto gritted out, you and Gojo complying despite your panting state, both of you attempting to calm the rise and fall of your chests. Kneeling next to each other on the floor for Geto to begin stroking his cock.

"My pretty little sluts," he groaned, "so fucking p-perfect." Fisting his cock till his cum coated both your pretty faces. Swallowing hard when you two took the other’s lips on your own. Sloppily swapping his cum from one mouth to another as you whimpered.

You and Gojo holding onto each other tightly as you both rutted your hips, soft moans filling the room when you took turns licking at each other’s lips. All the blood rushing right back to Geto’s cock as he watched you two make out.

“Looks like we’re far from finished huh?” A grin gracing his face when you both looked up at him through still wet lashes.

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[teaboot]

Sometimes at work it's not my place to tell people the things I want to say, and I find I often go home at the end of the rougher days to stand blankly in my shower and tell myself over and over what I wish I could pass on.

This accomplishes very little, and mostly just gives me a tension headache, but through it all I think I've narrowed myself down to a few solid things I'd like to tell people the most.

You can't change people. Not permanently, not for anythig. You can support them, encourage them, love them, give them tools and opportunities and resources, but you can't make them change. They can change themselves if they want to, but they have to want to, and they have to want it for themselves, because they're the only one that's certain to be with them forever.

For better or worse, you make your own choices, and blaming bad choices on others doesn't only work to absolve you of responsibility- it also robs you of control. Because if you say you only did something because I did something, then you arent only shifting blame- you're admitting that you cannot control yourself, that you cannot truly make choices for yourself, that other people can control you- and as long as you truly beleive that, you'll keep facing the same problems over and over. You'll keep letting others dictate your choices, because you'll beleive that they can, and you'll never be free.

White knights on horseback are from fairytales. Nobody can help you if ou're not willing to help yourself. To try, to put the dirty work in, to belive you're worth that effort- Act as though nobody is coming to save you. From a struggle, from pain, from bad relationships, from yourself. And when you do save yourself, because you will, because failure here isn't an option if you want to survive, you'll never find another dragon that can keep you prisoner.

Don't say anything to anyone that you wouldn't want them remembering forever.

Doing the right thing in bad circumstances is hard. It's the hardest thing. But if you make the choice to do that hard thing anyways, despite your fear, you'll go on the rest of your like knowing that you're the sort of person who did something.

The present only seems the hardest because the past I over and the future hasn't happened.

There's so much joy ahead of you, the kind you can't possibly understand until you see it yourself.

The responsibility of consequences is often disguised as the power of permission. "I won't do this if you help me", "I'll work on my anger if you do this for me", "I promised you I'd quit, but can I have just one?". The unspoken question is, "Can it be your fault if this goes badly?"

You cant make someone love you the way you need to be loved. Someone can love you very much and still be bad for you, even if you love them very much in return. Two people can love each other very, very much, and try their very best, and still be wrong for each other.

Sometimes being near to someone changes you, even in good ways, and the people you become don't fit together as well as the people you were.

Caring takes work. Even if it's real. Especially if it's real. And the most important gestures aren't the grand, poetic, songs-and-flowers-and-tears moments; they're getting out of bed even though you don't want to. Paying attention to things you don't enjoy. Scrubbing pans, or opening a window, saying "thank-you", or helping carry groceries into the house. The small things fill the big things- without the small, boring, mediocre things, big things feel hollow.

Thrre is honour and dignity in humble work.

If you are a cruel and spiteful person, then you will find every place you visit to be full of the same cruel, spiteful people. This is not because the world is as cruel as you, but because everywhere you are, you will be disliked. This is the curse that comes with being persistently cruel and spiteful.

If you are a kind and ppsitive person, you will repeatedly encounter kind and positive people, because as they grow familiar with you, they will be happier to have you near. This is the reward of being a kind and positive person.

When splitting paths with loved ones, briefly or forever, aim for your last words to always be "I love you".

[fxllfaiiry]

─ you're the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.

✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.

✶ notes: there's one spanish sentence in this, I'm not good with spanish so if I've made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! part two is already up!!!

Everyone on the team loved you from the moment you joined, everyone, except Miguel. 

You knew Miguel was cold towards everyone, but he was extra cold with you. Maybe it was because of how different your personalities were. 

You were the embodiment of sunshine, always positive in any situation, putting others before yourself. Hence why everyone calls you sunflower, it fits perfectly, Miles was proud of coming up with it. 

Miguel on the other hand was cold and distant but that didn't stop you from trying to get him to open up. You'd try to have simple conversations with him but nothing, all you would receive in reply was an eye roll or a slight grunt, but you wouldn't give up that easily. 

Like today, you got him some coffee. 

"Morning, boss. Got you some coffee." You said in your usual cheerful tone. 

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows, looking down at you suspiciously. That's the most he's said to you all week. 

"Because I wanted to." You shrugged, placing it down on his desk. 

He steped down walking towards his desk, you couldn't help but stare at him, unfortunately for you, everything about him was so attractive, it's such a shame he hated you. 

"This isn't how I like my coffee." 

"Huh?" You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of his voice. 

"The coffee, it tastes terrible. Get it from another place next time." 

"Well, actually I made it-" But he had already walked away from you not listening to a word you said. "Alright, never mind, I'll just go back to work." You mumbled hurt by his words. 

"Wait, hold on." You looked up, thinking, maybe he'll say something nice after all. 

"Yeah?" 

"Take the coffee with you, I won't be drinking it." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Girl, why do you look so sad? Did Miguel do something again?" Jess asked with a frown, she did not like seeing you sad. 

"No."

"Sunflower…"

"Okay, yes." Miguel being cold towards you was normal, he never spoke to you unless necessary. Out of everyone here, he probably hated you the most, even more than Miles.  

"Sunflower, I've told you to stop trying." Jess sighed. 

"I know, I know… why does he hate me so much, Jess?" 

"That's just the way he is, don't overthink it. It's his loss, baby." She replied, gently patting your shoulder. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Today was going to be a good day, you were so sure of it. 

But, of course, you were wrong. 

Everything was going great up until a few hours ago. 

Miguel had assigned you on a mission to catch an anomaly, alongside a few other spider-people. His instructions were clear, stick to the plan and catch the anomaly. It was supposed to be simple. 

If only you didn't disobey him. You screwed up badly, and because of that, you could have been killed. 

"Why don't you ever listen?" Miguel shouted. No one had ever seen him this angry. 

"I was just tryin-" 

"¡Ay, por el amor de Dios!" Being yelled at by your boss in front of your coworkers was humiliating, everyone was looking at you with pity. 

"I'm sick of this, why can’t you follow simple instructions? Is it that hard to understand?" He barked, towering over you. 

"It's not a big deal." You tried to keep your composure, you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by bursting into tears. 

"Not a big deal? You could've died! A simple mistake would have ruined the whole mission." 

Don't cry. Don't cry. 

"But we're all fine, aren't we?" You weakly chuckled. That was the wrong thing to say because it only made him angrier. 

"Oh? If that's the attitude you have then you shouldn't even be on the team." Ouch. 

"Miguel, I think that's enough-" Hobie said, quickly jumping in. 

"Not now, Hobie." He growled. 

Never once did you think that you'd be in a situation like this. 

"If you put more focus on trying to be good at your job, rather than impressing me, we wouldn't even be here!" Oh, so he did notice that. 

At this point, tears were streaming freely down your face and you made no attempt to stop them. 

"Yep, you got it, boss." You smiled up at him through your tears. It was pathetic, but you did not care, you just wanted to leave and never come back. 

"Next time make sure this doesn't happen." 

"It won't happen next time." That's because there won't be a next time.

[yeyinde]

Been on something lately with Price + someone more reserved/avoidant when it comes to sex.

Someone who doesn't have any real, tangible desire for intimacy. Romance. Outside of a few summers spent rutting against their pillow, chasing the spiralling ends of a hazy daydream with their fingers stuffed inside their panties, chanting be normal, this is normal, you want this in their head as they think of vague shapes, shadowed anatomy; a featureless silhouette rutting between their thighs, they just don't have that drive to pursue something like this.

And it's over drinks when it comes out (too many, of course; but Price has this way of needling under your skin, patronising you with just a shallow lift of his brow whenever you order water: a sly, subtle challenge in blue, one you feel obligated to meet—). Tipsy, loose lipped, you confess that you just don't really get the appeal. It's fine, you whine, fingers tapping out an off-rhythm beat on the worn wood. When it's just fantasy, but the idea of it, of sex and romance and everything else that comes after is a little too much.

A shame, he says, but he listens. Takes in your words with a gruff counter of his own, volleying back his own desires until they swallow yours whole.

And when he finds out you never really learned how to touch yourself—something he finds truly sad, detestable, really—he takes it upon himself to teach you the wonders of it. Of sex.

(with him. Only him, of course. Because you not wanting to fuck anyone else is perfectly fine. Great, even. But not wanting to fuck him? Well. He'll fix that character flaw with his own hand.)

He takes you home. Drunk little thing. Can't even handle your liquour, mm? He's really gotta do everything for you, doesn't he? But you go willingly, stumbling after him like a little puppy until he pulls you down on his lap, back flush against his broad chest, and slips his hand down your pants. Shush, don't worry, doll. Just relax. He'll show you what you're missing out on.

Bullies desire, want, into you with the rough slide of his hand, cooing mockingly in your ear when your body reacts to his touch. See? told you you'd get nice and wet for me, mm? Now, let's make this pretty pussy cum, love. Shush, don't fight it. Just give in. That's a good girl—

He sees you as something he can mould. Break. Tame.

A pretty project to force into the role he wants with every fibre of his being: a wife. In the truest sense of the word too because as much as he wants an adorable little mantelpiece to put behind stained glass, worship when it's convenient for him to do so, he wants someone to mould their existence around him. Soft edges to his harder ones. Kisses on his forehead before he leaves for work. Dinner on the table when he gets home. Knees locked tight to your ears, waiting for his cock every night.

And you're the perfect fit for the role, aren't you? Sweet girl. Just needed a firmer hand, didn't you? Someone to tell you what to do, what you need.

There's nothing wrong with you, he says, slipping his thick fingers through your swollen, wet folds, pads tight against your sopping, pulsing hole. It's more cum than slick that leaks out of you now, and he hums around an exhale when he pushes it back in, feeling the way your body responds. Fluttering, flexing, trying to pull him in deeper. Reacting to his touch perfectly.

Like you were made for him—

"Jus' needed me to come along and give you what you needed, mm? Don't worry, I'll take care of you from now on."

[azrielbrainrot]

An Exercise in Patience

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Cockwarming

Description: Your plan to bother Azriel while he's working fails, or maybe it doesn't.

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming, implied vaginal sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, kinda bratty reader, actually kind of fluffy

Word Count: ~1,3k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

You sigh for what feels like the millionth time, unashamedly acting like a petulant child who hadn't gotten her way, pouting against Azriel's shoulder as you felt his chest rise and fall against yours.

“I'm not sure what you expected was going to happen when you walked in this room wearing that, my love.”

“I expected my mate to bend me over his desk and fuck me.”

The disinterested yet somehow amused hum he offers makes you let out a huff of your own, straightening your posture so you aren't leaning on him anymore and can meet his eyes, trying to ignore the way his cock is filling you oh so deliciously, and only goes deeper with the change in position. If he wants to act unaffected, you'll do the same.

“Rhys needs these reports ready by tomorrow morning for his meeting with the High Lords,” he starts explaining, the sounds of his pen scratching against the paper the only sound in the room as he pauses, reading carefully through the pages, choosing the documents over you even now, “I told you all of this already.”

The way he was reading over your shoulder, not even meeting your eyes as he talked or acknowledging the fact that you were barely wearing any clothes at all, the sheer black lace not truly covering anything, was annoying you more than it probably should have.

It's not your fault you can't be patient when it comes to your mate. Not when he looks like a wet dream personified, especially when he focuses on something as he is now. It's also not your fault Rhys suddenly had a meeting the day after you bought such a beautiful set for Azriel to rip off of you and ruined all your plans.

It's not like you didn't understand how important his work was, but he had shut you down too easily, simply sitting you on his cock and going back to writing his report like it was the most normal thing, like the way his mate was dripping and clenching around him didn't matter. It was especially vexing since you could barely form a single thought, his scent and warmth making the bond want to jump through your skin, lay him down over the desk and ride him until you were shaking on top of him.

“I can almost hear your thoughts,” he says, a hint of amusement breaking through the serious tone he put on earlier.

“Has Rhysand been teaching you new tricks?”

Your tone makes him pause, hazel eyes shifting to yours for just a second before returning to the task at hand. He doesn't say anything, but he wraps one arm around your back, pulling you in closer, making you wrap your own arms around his neck, hugging him to you once again, humming when you relax a bit against him, annoyance fizzling out in his arms. Your body was a traitor, and he knew its every little secret.

One thing you wouldn't admit is how impressed you were that you had been able to fit him all the way inside you so quickly and with barely any preparation, it usually takes you a bit of stimulation to be able to get to this point, not that either of you mind the need for some foreplay.

Unfortunately, these thoughts led to memories of how well he fucked you just about every day and every night, this morning even, on the bed, in the bathtub, on this stupid desk, and up against the wall. Another defeated sigh escapes your lips, your cunt clenching around his hard cock involuntarily.

“You know if I was a little more insecure I'd find it insulting that you can keep working while I'm sitting on your cock,” you mumble, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“I was trained to not let anything distract me,” he answers matter-of-factly.

Your teeth find the skin of his neck before you could stop yourself, biting hard enough to leave the imprint of your teeth on the soft skin, his body tensing under yours - apparently he wasn't immune to every type of distraction.

Feeling bad for him, or just wanting to see what other reactions you could get out of the stoic spymaster, you lick over the mark, kissing and sucking on the skin until a deep red spot bloomed under your mouth. Sadly, it still doesn't keep him away from the papers, only giving you the satisfaction of feeling him tense up against you a couple times.

“Didn't know you could be so mean either.”

“Mean?” His voice sounded deeper, maybe your little plan was working better than you assumed. “I think I'm being quite generous, letting you warm my cock when it's the opposite of helpful while I have work to do.”

“Then why can't I move?” You grind into him softly, a harsh breath escaping him at the movement, it brings a triumphant smile to your lips even if his shadows rush to stop you from repeating the motion.

“Because you need to learn how to be patient.”

“So this is my punishment?”

“We can call it that if it makes you feel better.” It doesn't, not at all. “Now hush, the sooner I finish the reports on my desk, the sooner I can bend you over it.”

“Azriel,” you whine yet again.

“I'm almost done,” he shushes you softly again.

You watch his face for a moment longer, debating whether to try your luck or wait patiently like he asked you to, but a quick glance from him has your body making the decision for you, leaning back down against his strong body, waiting quietly, and mostly still.

With a hand falling over the back of his neck, you pet him softly, fingers combing through the curls on the nape of his neck, just how you know he likes, feeling him relax under you immediately. Azriel wouldn't let you move too much, but you could at least do this. You start dropping little kisses all over his neck, starting by his ear and moving down until you find the fabric of his shirt, unbuttoning it so you could tug at his collar and reach as much of his soft, unmarked skin as you could.

“What are you doing?”

His voice startles you, pulling back to meet his eyes, you had gotten so focused on covering every little bit of skin that you almost forgot he was even there. He did look a bit less in control than before as half lidded hazel eyes stared back at you, and you can't help the smile from spreading over your face at that, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“Kissing my mate,” you answer, lips brushing against his skin as you did, his stubble tickling your lips, “or are you going to tell me I can't do that either.”

“That would be cruel,” he breathes out, eyes locking on your lips when you pull back just enough.

“It would,” you say, dropping a quick peck to his lips before kissing his other cheek, traveling down his jaw. “Don't mind me, you can keep working.”

“I already finished the reports.”

“What?”

“I'm done,” he says one more time, the smile growing as you look behind you to find the files neatly arranged and ready to be delivered to your High Lord.

“You're done,” you repeat dumbly.

Azriel lets out a chuckle and nods. “I'm all yours.”

“All mine?”

He hums in response, finally kissing you properly, his scarred hands traveling down your body, caressing the exposed skin at last, moving down to hold onto your thighs. Suddenly, every bit of calmness and patience leaves your body, the feeling of his hard cock sitting inside you the only thing you can think about once again.

You're both out of breath when he pulls away, the same hunger that has been eating away at your sanity present in his eyes as he lets go of all his self control.

“How do you want me, my love?”

[rizsu]

megumi fushiguro x reader 𓂃 drabble.

+ love, ‘su: what happens when your friend's brother is your type? flirting! not beta read mb

“can i date your brother?”

“that loser?!”

a smile works up your face, signaling to your friend that you are half joking and half serious. truth be told, you've been eyeing her brother for a while. he's awkward around you, messy hair that never seems to settle, gentle with touching, and not to mention his honey-glazed voice.

“go ahead. i was beginning to question him anyway.”

and just like that, you began plotting. the frequency of your visits to the fushiguro's increased tenfold, and so did the eye contact between you and megumi.

whenever your eyes caught his, you'd flash him a sweet smile, softening your eyes at him.

unfortunately, megumi can't reciprocate. he's malfunctioning on spot, bringing the back of his hand to cover him biting his lips, and the blush that creeps up whenever you're provoking him.

days upon days of subtle flirting turn into weeks. eventually, megumi got used to your advances. he's even mustered up the courage to answer you back.

little did he know that his improvements would crumble within one night. all the research on how to flirt back, questioning his sister about you, hearting your posts on social media washed down the drain.

—

it's not unusual to see megumi at the gym. he's a guy that cares a lot for his lean figure. abs that aren't too prominent, biceps that aren't big, but you can see them when he's in a tank top, and slightly toned thighs. he believes it's the perfect combination for himself.

besides this, all confidence is lost when you walk in the gym. what are you doing here? fuck knows why— you're unpredictable.

he's on the treadmill, getting his minutes in while he pretends he's not looking at you through his peripheral vision. it's obvious your destination is right beside him.

suddenly getting eight-minutes on the treadmill doesn't seem impossible. surely not when he's trying his best to not look at you.

your stare burns into him, heating his body as if you placed a fraction of the sun inside him. your eyes trail along his body, admiring his build. it's coincidentally just in line with your taste.

“you're drenched in sweat.” throwing the hand towel over your shoulder, you put a hand on your hip.

“y-yeah. been at it for an hour.” slowing his pace, he replies to you, taking in deep breaths whenever he can.

“the treadmill?!”

coming to a stop, he steps off the treadmill, taking your towel to assist himself.

“no, i meant the entire workout.”

your face contorted in disbelief at the sight of your towel being dirtied.

megumi pays no mind to your expressions, enjoying the satisfaction of being semi-dry instead of beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face.

the satisfaction ends when he felt a finger poke his chest, then it slid down the middle of his torso, stopping right above his belly button.

you giggle at his reaction. finding it amusing the way he tensed up at your touch.

“well, aren't you fit.” you teased, smiling at him.

megumi scoffs, grabbing your wrist with his hand. his grip is firm — ensuring that you won't be able to wiggle your hand out.

“how long are you going to do this, y/n?”

“do what?” feigning innocence, you shrugged at him.

at that point, he breaks. he's fed up and hates it when he's placed in guessing games. it's either you commit to the bit, or leave him alone — okay, no. he doesn't want you to leave him alone, but you get the point.

lowering his head to your ears, he whispers, “you know what i'm talking about.”

has his voice always been that deep? you wondered to yourself, ignoring the chills his whisper sent.

you turn your head away from him, bringing yourself back to reality.

“then do something about it.”

“you've got quite the tongue, y/n.”

“thanks, i got it from my mother!” your quick remarks are back, but you're still avoiding eye contact.

maybe it's the fact that he's obviously irritated—or maybe it's his now see-through tank top that's making it impossible for you to continue your usual endeavours.

annoyed, megumi leans back, rolling his shoulders. his hand's still holding your wrist, and the other's settled in his sweatpant's pocket.

“let's go back.” a heavy sigh left him.

“but i just got here!” you refused to leave.

“you already saw what you came for. it's time to go, y/n.”

he walked forward, pulling you behind him. the irritated feeling long replaced by the heartbeat that's booming in his ears. tonight's the night one of you will become victorious.

[cripplecharacters]

How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special

[large text: How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special]

Today is the 13th of May, which means that the Face Equality Week has just started. This year's theme is “My Face is a Masterpiece” which is probably my favorite sentence ever said about having a facial difference. Huge fan, should be used way more often in my opinion.

Because of this occasion, I would like to share some thoughts about Face Equality that I think are rather entry-level, i.e. you don't need to know much to execute these, but you can still support us.

Stop the stare.

I know it's fun to stare - or so I guess, at least - but maybe you shouldn't. Next time you see someone who has a scar or who's face does not move the same way as yours, just mind your business. We can tell when you're “discreetly” looking.

Don't call us deformed. 

Knowing how the people you're trying to support actually call themselves should be an absolute first step, but most people still fail here. Most of us don't appreciate being called “deformed”. I certainly don't. Say “facial difference”, or “disfigurement” if you must. It's 2024. Leave “deformed” to medical reports from the 70s.

No more “What happened?!”s.

If you aren't a doctor, there's a high-to-100% chance that it's none of your business. It's cool that you're curious - keep it to yourself.

Stop insinuating that we are ugly.

“Support people who are ugly!” isn't very supportive. I would say, not in the slightest. Say “people who don't fit the current beauty standards” if that's what you mean. 

Or, to go with this year's theme, “people whose faces are masterpieces” : )

Use critical thinking online.

Is the reaction photo actually funny, or is it just a person with a craniofacial condition? Is the meme actually a meme, or is it just making fun of a person with a facial disfigurement? Is body-shaming suddenly hilarious to you when the person shamed has strabismus? 

If the entire punchline is “lol they have a disability xd”, it's ableism. Plain and simple.

To go with the point above - your joke is probably not funny.

We get it! You can't help telling us how "you're going to hell for laughing" (which yeah, probably) and how we remind you of the ugliest character you have ever seen. I guarantee you that we heard it, and that you are behaving like an edgy middle schooler who hasn't "found out" yet. It's boring and annoying. Also ableist, but you're aware of that already if you're saying that you're going to hell.

Stop with the goddamn trigger warnings. 

We aren't “body horror”, we aren't “gore”, we aren't something that you need to advise your viewers to use their discretion over. Every “graphic footage: child with neurofibromatosis” and “#tw burn scar” is a sign of ableism and disfiguremisia. People with facial differences deserve to be seen. Ableds can survive seeing a person without a nose.

Do a basic reading on what disfiguremisia is.

New word! And a pretty damn important one. It's a brand of ableism that intersects with more or less everything, and it means discrimination and hatred of people with facial differences/disfigurements. The bullying, harassment, endless name-calling, and microaggressions are all results of disfiguremisia. The ways in which everything is harder for us isn't some unchangeable rule of how the world works, it's just an extremely prevalent type of discrimination.

Understand that we are people.

I know, revolutionary - and yet impossible for so many people to get. We can be a visual representation of evil when it's necessary, we can be a feel-good inspirational story on a morning talk-show, but not much else, it seems. In reality, we are complex, we have our own lives, we can be happy and sad and have the same exact joys and worries that you have.

Hey, artists - facial differences don't make you evil.

Title stolen from a great essay by Lise Deguire (link). When's the last time you saw a positive character with a facial difference that wasn't inspiration porn? I mean a character that's not edgy, full of angst, a murderer, or a villain. Based on what you see in the media, you'd think that having a scar renders you evil on the spot, but in reality it just makes you loathe how artists apparently think you are like. It's boring, it's overdone, it's ableism. Stop doing this, and start noticing when it's being done. Point it out if your friend is writing their new villain to be an evil burn survivor. This kind of portrayal needed to stop ages ago, but tomorrow will be a great time as well.

Before you reply with “I've never seen this” - Darth Vader, Lion King’s Scar (subtle name, great thing to teach kids!), Freddy Krueger, Voldemort, we could be here forever. You're just not paying attention.

Pay attention to where we are not included.

As discussed, there are some places where you see us all the time. But where do you not see us?

Advertisements (unless it's for a scar-removal cream, of course). Fashion shows. Magazine covers. Romance movies where we are the main character.

We deserve to see ourselves in what's around us in the same way able-bodied people do. Trying to make it seem like we don't exist - that's deliberate. 

Interact with our art.

We draw, write, sing, act in movies, we do everything! Support us in the most tangible way - leave us a nice comment, read our books, listen to our songs. Watch movies where actual people with facial differences star, not pseudoinspirational stories about how “being disfigured is ok” where they shove an able-bodied actor into a full face prosthetic just to not have an actor with a disfigurement on set.

Include us.

As this year's Face Equality Week calls for, include us. In art, in movies, in books, in your life. Show us as positive people who are valuable, who are a part of your community - I guarantee that we are in every one that's out there. The world is hostile and unwelcoming to people with facial differences - be the change, wherever you are!

I know that it is different from the usual posts I make, but I hope it was somewhat educational. I just like to use every occasion that I can to force Face Equality into people's heads. To make this at least a bit about writing to keep the blog's theme, I will say that if you want to write about us, you need to care about us in real life as well. Otherwise, it's shallow and pointless.

Below the readmore are some links/resources that you can click to educate yourself further. A lot of them lead to Face Equality International because they have just about everything you should know. If you want to be a better ally to people with facial differences, I heavily recommend them!

#MyFaceIsAMasterpiece

mod Sasza

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/why-i-will-not-hide/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/disability-is-diversity/202111/hidden-community-the-movement-face-equality

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2022/05/facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/advertising-excludes-women-with-faces-like-mine/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/burn-community-bookshelf

https://faceequalityinternational.org/about-fei/international-face-equality-week/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/hidden-from-view-women-with-facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/i-dont-see-your-scars

whoa thanks for actually clicking the readmore!!

[number44newseries864962]

Need to rant for a minute because even though I have very much been enjoying the fruits of my efforts learning how to sew vintage style clothes, I just swapped out old fatphobia (nice plus size vintage clothes never making it to stores) for new fatphobia (trying to find patterns). Cause it doesn't end at what clothes you're able to buy already made.

I finally bought a Friday Pattern Company pattern the other day, and man it made the bare minimum feel like I was being spoiled. The sizes go up to 7X (that's XL, XXL, 1X, 2X, etc, so there's 9 sizes above L) they had a thin and a fat model on the cover! Usually I'm barely lucky enough to get an XL, and I'm just expected to guess how it's going to look on my body. The majority of their patterns have two differently sized models on the covers, and all of them have that full range of patterns inside.

It is so hard to find good plus size patterns, even if they're available, many companies just scale up their mediums and I can't guarantee they're actually sized correctly for a different shape. As good as Friday is, them and other modern indie pattern companies aren't easy to find.

Okay well what if I went another step deeper, what if I forgo patterns all together and decide to be completely independent and draft things myself?

Then I'll need a plus size dress form. I got lucky and found one at an antique mall for 50$ but these are incredibly rare and more expensive than smaller ones. I'll need to learn how to draft patterns, something that was taught to me on a XS form by my college and nearly every tutorial out there. Drafting close fitting clothes for fat bodies is a completely different skillset, because all that extra fat is much squishier and shifts more. Measuring yourself correctly and getting the shape you're looking for is far more important. Before I even got there I'd need to sketch out what I wanted to make, right? Well the patterning book my family got me only shows you how to draw tall, skinny people. A beginner would have to look up their own drawing references and tutorials because what what supposed to be a super accessible beginner's guide to fashion has decided their body isn't normal enough for the baseline tutorial.

We're expected to be the ones who put in the extra effort. Digging to find the pattern companies that fit our shape and actually prove they can, paying extra in shipping or driving farther to pick them up. Having to search specifically for plus size tutorials for drafting and sketching. It's always treated like it's not part of the beginner's experience to be working with a fat body, that's just going to make people more frustrated and lost and less likely to pursue something they're excited about! Especially if it's in response to already being frustrated about the lack of clothing options.

We need a little positivity to this post so to end on a high note, here's me modeling the blazer I just finished with a shirt I made a couple years ago!

Being able to finally wear clothes I really feel like me in has been an amazing confidence boost. It's not fair that there's so many roadblocks in the way for someone who looks like me who just wants to wear things they enjoy.

[authorhjk1]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6pTqflplBO/?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Sana/Jennie museum threesome

The Roman Goddess (part III)

(Minatozaki Sana X Jennie X Male Reader)

"Stop playing hard to get, Mars."

Venus' mischievous smile makes you lose your mind.

You knew it was a bad idea, when you saw the invitation to this event lying on the bed in your hotel room. And her note next to it explained why she wanted you here.

"I don't think we should do this."

You take a step back, surprised by your own self control.

"Y-Your husband is right there."

You whisper and point to the next room of the museum.

"Oh, forget about him, baby. I'm just here for that dick of yours."

You watch her looking down on you, before she reaches out to cup your crotch.

You can't do anything. Nothing to resist. Venus has always been something you can't walk away from. Something that draws you in. And that purple dress she is wearing makes your head spin, everytime you look at her. It fits her body perfectly, hugging her curves tightly.

A satisfied smile plays around Venus' lips, when she sees you glancing at her cleavage.

"You see? We're meant for each other. My body is yours. And yours is mine."

She steps closer. You close your eyes, still feeling her hand on your clothed cock. She places her tongue on your cheekbone and gives your cheek a long lick upwards, until she reaches your ear. Her purpose is clear. Destroy your silent resistance. Let yourself go. Give in.

"Your cock. It belongs in my pussy. As deep as it can go."

You flinch when Venus bites your earlobe. She is way more aggressive than she used to be. But then again, she is used to getting what she wants.

"And I'm not leaving this museum, until you tear this dress off me and fuck me like you mean it."

Your eyes shoot open when you hear high heels click on the stone floor. Someone is walking towards the two of you. Venus takes two steps back and pretends to read the information plate of the glass case on your left. You quickly hide your erection with the brochure you've held onto until now.

When the woman finally rounds the corner, you almost roll your eyes. What in the world? What the fuck is going on?

Her blue dress is barely a dress. More like a tunic. A very revealing one. You can see most of her slender legs and her tummy. The former is decorated with some body jewelry, which catches your eye. You notice you're staring, when she speaks up.

"I didn't expect you to see here."

Venus turns around.

"Oh, hey you."

She gives the new woman a big smile, but you can tell it's not genuine. Venus hesitates for a moment, but decides to properly greet the other woman. The two of them meet in the middle of the room. You can sense the awkwardness in the air as they give each other a hug. It looks forced and delicate, almost as if both of them are afraid the other might shatter into pieces, if they squeeze too hard.

You take a deep breath, glad you aren't the center of Venus' attention at the moment. Turning around, you try to ignore the two women and regain your composure. The glass case behind you showcases a trident and a net. You read the small plate that is placed next to the case.

The Retiarius, one of the most iconic gladiators of ancient Rome, fought using a trident (tridens) and a net (rete). Unlike his heavily armored counterparts, the Retiarius relied on speed and agility.

"How is your husband doing? You always talk about how he is working all the time."

"He is doing just fine. If I remember correctly, you ended things with your boyfriend? Tell me all about that."

Equipped with minimal armor—typically a shoulder guard (galerus) for protection—he would attempt to ensnare his opponent with the net before striking with the trident. This lightweight approach contrasted sharply with the heavily armed Secutor, creating a dramatic spectacle of skill versus strength.

"You know how guys are. Lazy idiots, who only think about sex. Especially when they see a woman like me. Believe it or not, I had one of his best friends on my doorstep an hour after I ended things with him."

"I can only imagine. My husband is a loyal, loving man. He gives me the world. I hope you'll find someone like that someday as well."

The weapons displayed here are replicas of those used in the grand arenas of Capua, a renowned training center for gladiators.

You move onto the next exhibit, while you hear the two women talk in the background. It's obvious they don't like each other. They're just bragging about how everyone loves them and how beautiful they are. You do have to admit that they're both gorgeous, but their characters seem flawed, to say the least.

Now standing in front of a mosaic, you get a glimpse of what a fully filled arena must've looked like in its full glory.

This intricate mosaic from the arena in Capua illustrates the staged reenactment of the Battle of Zama, the decisive confrontation of the Second Punic War fought in 202 BCE. In this spectacle, captured Punic warriors were forced to relive their defeat, facing off against Roman-trained gladiators representing the legions of Scipio Africanus.

"By the way, I love that dress of yours. I don't think I'd dare to show off this much skin, but it really fits your style."

"Thanks. Oh, but I love yours as well. Did your husband buy it for you? His taste is really something."

The Punic fighters are depicted with their characteristic long spears (hasta), curved swords (falcata), and round shields (caetra), emulating the Carthaginian infantry. Some are shown as Numidian allies, wielding javelins (pilum) and riding light horses, mirroring the diverse forces of Hannibal’s army.

"You know, I'd love to catch up with you some more, but my husband already mentioned earlier that he would love me to accompany him to the arena. But I'm sure we will have a chance to resume this pleasant conversation."

"Of course, dear. You're a loving and loyal wife. You always put his needs over yours."

Their opponents, dressed in Roman-style armor, carry gladii (short swords) and rectangular scuta (shields), symbolizing the disciplined Roman formations that triumphed at Zama. Such events were designed not only as entertainment but as a display of Roman supremacy, reminding the spectators of Rome's victory over one of its greatest adversaries.

You let out a deep breath as you hear Venus exit the room. You already felt bad, because you slept with a married woman. And while your carnal desires have kept you under their control so far, you finally have the courage to stop. You don't want to do it here. Not with her husband in the next room. That's not just morally wrong, but also stupid and dangerous.

You decide to ignore the other woman. She's probably doing the same with you. You reach another, smaller glass case. A figure of Venus inside. You can't help but glance at your own personal Venus through the door in the other room. For a moment, your eyes are glued to her backside, which is tightly wrapped by her dress. But you quickly avert your eyes again, hoping no one caught you. You decide on studying the description of the small figure, waiting for the other woman to finally leave the room.

The goddess Venus, revered as the deity of love, beauty, and fertility, held a special connection with the gladiators of Capua. In Roman culture, Venus was also associated with victory and fortune, making her a significant figure for gladiators who sought her favor before entering the arena. It was believed that invoking Venus’ blessings could turn the tide of combat, granting strength, agility, and the favor of the audience.

"Interesting."

You mumble as you take out your pen. This could make for a great part of your book. The first one featured the Roman legions. The second one was centered around Roman naval warfare. And this third one was supposed to be more about politics, while highlighting the character of a cunning, but charming woman.

Thank to Venus, you've already made great progress. "The Roman goddess", your third book, is almost finished by now. And it seems like you just found the best way to start your fourth book. Very ambitious, since you haven't completed the third one yet. But you know that this could lead you to even more fame. And money. For a moment, you wonder if you could ever reach the same level as Venus' husband. Through writing? Not likely. But it's going well so far.

The idea alone already makes your fingers itchy. You want to go home and continue to write. And you know now, your fourth book will be about gladiators. As you take notes on the museum's brochure, you are already planning out the first ideas for a plot.

You loose yourself in your thoughts, whispering along as you keep on reading the description of the small figure.

In Capua, one of the most renowned gladiatorial training centers of the Roman world, shrines and offerings to Venus were common, especially among gladiators who wished to honor the goddess in the hope of survival and success. The connection between Freya and the gladiators-

"What the fuck happened here?"

You say out loud, starring at the small text.

"Are you okay?"

You jump. The woman who talked to Venus is standing right behind you.

"Yeah, sorry."

You turn back around.

"Is something wrong?"

"Kinda..."

You hesitate. She sounds kinda bored and you don't want to make it worse by letting your history addiction shine through. But what's the worst that can happen?

"Here."

You point at the description.

"For some reason someone switched the names of Venus and Freya."

"And who is that?"

"Well, Venus is this one."

You point at the statue and have to force yourself to not look into the next room.

"And Freya is basically her Nordic equivalent."

"Isn't this the goddess of love or something?"

"Yes, you're correct. She's also responsible for marriage and the spring."

"You seem to know what you're talking about."

The woman next to you crosses her arms in front of her chest as she looks down at the figure of Venus.

"A little. My specialty is Roman and Greek history, but I know a thing or two about other civilizations as well."

"Are you a history teacher or something?"

"An author."

It still feels odd to say that. But you're realizing that you aren't as nervous as you should be. This woman is gorgeous, stunning. And yet, you don't really think about that and just see her as a normal person. Maybe because you spent a lot of time with Venus?

"Are you famous?"

"I wouldn't say so. Not really."

"Too bad. It would've explained why she sleeps with you."

You almost have a heart attack.

"W-What?"

You cross your fingers that she isn't talking about Venus. Not possible. You've never seen her before, so how would she have seen you? And you are sure that Venus didn't say anything either. Right?

You feel your heart beating faster, while your body seems like it's frozen. You wait for her to keep talking.

"Did you never see her taking pictures of you or something?"

You slowly shake your head.

"No... Did she?"

"There's an mobile app for women like us."

She pauses for a moment.

"Rich, famous women. Who are either married or single."

"Ah...."

"The app is used to share our sexual adventures with each other. And recommend people, based on where you are. For example, you told her that you'd be in Italy for a while. How do I know that? I checked the app. She put a picture of you in there. What you're good at, that you're fine with keeping secrets and that you're currently in Italy. And your number as well."

"She gave everyone my number and a picture?"

"Yeah."

You feel a little used. Venus seemed to value privacy so much. So why did she just violate yours?

"I also know that the two of you are playing a little game. You call her Venus. And you're Mars, right?"

You slowly nod your head. It finally dawns on you in which direction this is gonna go.

"I want in."

"What?"

"I want to take what's hers. Make Venus jealous and show her that you like my pussy more than hers."

When she says Venus' name, it almost sounds like an insult.

"Do I have a choice?"

The woman in blue shakes her head, while giving you a mocking smile.

"You don't."

You look at her, then look back towards the room Venus went to, and then look back at her.

"Okay....What do you want to do? A hotel? Or-"

"Shut it."

You're surprised by her rudeness.

"We are going somewhere where she can see us. Got it?"

"S-Sure."

"Oh and we need a name for me too. I want one just as good as hers."

You instinctively glance at the description of the figure.

"Freya?"

You see a smile playing around her lips.

"Sounds good."

"I don't think we should be here. This isn't just against museum rules, but also inappropriate."

"Zip it. I do what I want."

You sigh as she leads you into the sunlight. It seems like someone really paid the museum a lot of money to host this event. Which makes sense, since everyone here seems to be rich. The museum staff has placed a purple sun blind over the imperial box. From here, you have great view of the whole arena.

Of course it isn't in its original state, but it looks fabulous nonetheless. Which makes sense, since it's the second largest amphitheater of the Roman Empire. In the middle, where the gladiators have fought thousands of years ago, the museum has set up tables and chairs, a large buffet and even a small dance floor.

You feel odd, overlooking this beautiful scenery. Not just because you have a gorgeous woman lean over the balustrade right in front of you, but also because it feels wrong. This was once a place of blood and death. People died down there and yet these rich people treat it as some fancy place for a party.

"There she is."

Freya nods towards Venus, who is standing near the buffet. You can spot her easily. She is the most beautiful woman down there. You can't keep your eyes off that beautiful body.

You know her husband has to be there somewhere, but you can't tell who it is. And you're not even sure if you want to know. After all-

"What are you waiting for?"

You look over the bent over woman in front of you. Venus has so much control over you, you almost forgot about Freya. But now, you can see how beautiful she is as well. How sexy, how gorgeous. Just as much a goddess as Venus is. Same but different.

"Kneel for me and make yourself useful."

You hesitate. Venus wasn't really this commanding. But in the end, you don't care. As long as it means you are able to have sex with a woman like her.

You feel the naked stone on your knees. Reaching forward, you slowly lift up Freya's dress. Her blue underwear matches the dress. You lean in and give the back of her thighs kisses. You taste her skin, making sure you take your time as you carefully make your way upwards. When you eventually meet her clothed core, you plant a kiss on the fabric.

Freya's legs open a little wider, but you change directions. You lick and kiss her cheeks, giving them an occasional bite or two.

"That feels good..."

You continue, until you feel like she is starting to get impatient. Pulling at her panties, you watch them slowly glide down her smooth legs.

Licking your lips, you stare at her exposed pussy. It's a little darker than Venus', but not less beautiful. You lean in. One slow lick from the bottom to the top. It makes her hum in appreciation. You reach for her cheeks to pull them apart a little further. Taking in Freya's scent, you begin to feast on her pussy, while the rich people feast on the buffet in the arena.

You quickly notice that Freya isn't as wet as Venus is. It takes you a while to finally have her dripping. But for some reason, that just makes it taste even better. You lick along her folds, part them with your tongue, dive in deep. And then you retreat, circle around her outer lips, dip down to let your tongue flick against her clit. And then you start from the beginning once more.

Throughout your delicious meal, Freya has stayed mostly quiet. An appreciative moan here and there, a slight gasp, whenever you try something new. You can really see how the two women differ from each other.

As you keep going, you notice how Freya likes it when you use your hands on her ass from time to time. Pull her cheeks apart a little, slightly dig your fingers into them, squeezing them. You feel how she slowly becomes hotter, how her body's temperature starts to rise. She starts to move back a little as more pleasure rushes through her system.

Making your final move, you take her clit into your mouth. You suck on it, making her squirm for a moment. And then, a deep moan leaves her body. She shakes in front of you, your hands on her ass and hers on the balustrade keep her standing. More of her juices leave her pussy, which you taste as you dive back in during her high.

When you finally move away from her, you take a look at her now glistening folds once more. But when you're about to stand up, you feel one of her hands pushing your head back down.

"What makes you think you're done?"

You're surprised she wants more. You would've loved to feel her lips, or her pussy on your cock. But you decide to follow her lead. Maybe you'll get even more out of this.

"That's a good boy."

You hear her sigh when you place your lips on hers once more. Closing your eyes, you enjoy her taste. The moment is short lived, when you hear your phone's ringtone.

"Answer it."

Freya's voice is laced with mischievous intent.

You quickly realize why. She must've seen how Venus took out her phone and is now calling you.

"Hello?"

"Are you hiding from me?"

"I'm-"

You get interrupted by Freya, who pulls your face toward her core.

"I'm not."

You resume your meal, while Venus talks on the other end of the line.

"Good. I'm really horny right now. And I need you."

"I'm not sure if we should do it here. Your husband-"

"Oh, don't worry. He won't catch us, I promise."

"I don't-"

"It's gonna be quick."

Freya lets out a sigh as your tongue swipes upwards a little too high, coming dangerously close to her other hole. You bite your lip for a second, hoping Venus didn't hear that.

"I'll reward you."

Seems like Venus took your silence as indecisiveness.

"I'm going to head to your hotel room after this event. My body will be yours tonight."

You almost let out a groan into Freya's pussy.

"Is there anything you would prefer me in?"

You feel the other woman's hand on the back of your head again, urging you on to keep eating her out.

"A specific dress? Lingerie? Nothing?"

You close your eyes, trying to stay strong. At the same time, you keep you face buried between Freya's legs.

"Yes, that feels good."

Her moan is way louder than all the other ones.

"Mars, what's going on?"

You realize that she did it on purpose.

Freya now reaches for your phone.

"Keep going."

She takes and places it on her ear.

"Hello, darling?"

You don't hear what Venus is saying. You let out a sigh, but resume your work. You kinda feel like you betrayed her. But the again, you aren't in a relationship. She is even married to someone else.

"Oh, I bet he's loving dessert right now."

You hear Freya's breath hitch as you let your tongue circle around her clit once more.

"Oh damn, you really weren't lying. He is gonna make me cum again."

You double your efforts at her words. The damage is done already. Might as well finish the job.

"Don't get all possessive, honey. I'm sure he won't mind sleeping with you tonight."

"Really? And what are you gonna do about it?"

You feel how Freya is getting closer again. This bantering with Venus is probably getting her off even more.

"What makes you think you're a better fuck than me?"

"Oh, I'm so up for that. I'm gonna show you how much better I am."

You suck on Freya's clit once more. And the climax of her conversation and you work suddenly make her cum again.

"Oh, fuck!"

Once she calms down, Freya speaks again.

"That was amazing. Where we are? Just look up."

You notice how a second later the call ends. Freya turns around and gives you your phone back.

"While we wait for Venus, why don't you show me what you got there?"

She reaches for your belt and starts to undress you. When your pants and boxers fall onto the stone floor, Freya wraps her fingers around your cock.

"It's always hard to tell someone's size without properly measuring it, but I feel like Venus underestimated you."

She stands in front of you, while she begins to stroke your length. You can't help but reach out to feel more of her body. You place your hand on her naked waist.

"You like me, don't you?"

It's probably for the best, if you don't answer. So you stay silent, your eyes slowly wandering from her waist to her clothed tits. And your hands soon follow.

"You probably thought she was a goddess when you first saw her, huh? That's why you play this little game. But trust me, she is no better than I am."

Her confident smirk makes you realize that she genuinely thinks she is better than Venus. She isn't just saying that to make you choose her.

"Maybe we should start without her."

You watch how Freya's hand leaves your cock. She sticks out her tongue and licks her own palm. Then, she places her wet hand around your length again.

"Come on. Make everyone watch."

She turns around again. And like before, Freya bends over the stone balustrade.

You hold your breath for a moment. You really must be lucky if you get to have sex with her. But, if Venus is about to join the two of you, this might turn into the best day of your life.

Stepping behind her, you align yourself with her pussy. Your tip grazes her lips. When you push inside, you hear her let out a sigh.

"No wonder she doesn't want to share you."

Your hands are on her waist. You feel that waist chain between your fingers. But that's by far not the best thing you're feeling right now. Her tight cunt is nicely wrapped around your cock, keeping you inside as you attempt to back up.

When you start to properly fuck her, you already hear the sounds of someone walking behind you. It's still a little further away, but it's growing closer. You decide that this the best moment to make use of Freya's pussy as much as possible. You don't know what might happen next.

"Fuck, right there."

She moans when you fuck her harder. Soon, you place one of your hands on her clothed tits, while the other stays on her waist. You take her from behind, enjoying her body to the fullest. As every thrust leads you deeper and deeper inside, you start to forget all about the world around you. Her tight grip on your cock is all that matters right now. Your thrusts become faster. And the sound of your hips meeting her ass becomes louder.

"The two of you started without me?"

You quickly turn your head. Venus is standing behind you, a pout on her lips. Your eyes immediately roam her body. Her beauty and Freya's pussy around your cock make your head spin.

"Why don't you join me? Venus?"

Freya says her name once more with an underlying emotion. But to your surprise, Venus walks closer. She captures your lips with hers, her hands on your chest. By now, you've stopped fucking Freya. Which she doesn't seem to like. The bent over woman moves her hips and you groan into Venus' mouth.

Venus breaks the kiss and whispers into your ear.

"Make sure your cum belongs to me."

She gives you a mischievous smile, before she backs away. Just like Freya, she bends over the balustrade. The two women are barely an arm's length apart from each other. But your view has suddenly improved immensely. Your eyes are glued to Venus' ass as you start to fuck Freya once more.

Your self control only lasts a second. You reach over to squeeze the cheek that is closest to you. Venus looks back at you, a satisfied grin on her face.

"Can't take your hands off me?"

You nod as you try to keep up the pace of your fucking. Freya has begun to moan again, this time a little louder. Her tight pussy is holding onto you as if she knew you're on the brink of jumping ship.

"Come on, Mars. It's not polite to leave a woman waiting."

You close your eyes. Count to three. When you reach three, you don't know if you should pull out or not. You count to three again. And again. And finally you feel yourself pulling out all the way. Freya's walls drag along your length and a long sigh leaves her lips.

Only now do you notice that she is breathing heavily. You decide you're kind enough to give her a break.

A moment later, you stand behind Venus. Your wet cock rests on the fabric of her dress as you squeeze her cheeks. She purrs like a cat in the sun, already getting wet by just your hands on her body.

As much as you love seeing her ass like that, you eventually realize the urge to bury yourself inside of her grows larger. You hike up her dress. No panties. If only her husband knew what a slutty wife he has. The already familiar sight of Venus' pussy doesn't give you time to hesitate. You quickly push inside. That familiar warmth closes down around your length immediately. Reaching forward, you take a hold of both of her naked shoulders. The way she is leaning over the balustrade probably enables everyone in the arena to look deep into her cleavage.

But she doesn't seem to care. Venus' moans are just as loud as Freya's as you start to fuck her as well. You can tell how much wetter she is. Her juices practically coating your cock.

"That's right. I promised you. You own my body tonight."

You groan in response. The urge to lean down and give her exposed back a bite is unusually strong. But you focus on fucking her harder. Her pussy basically asking for it. Her tight walls squeezing you, her juices making sure your thrusts are smooth.

Eventually, you make the mistake of looking to your left. Freya is still standing there, elbows on the balustrade, as she bites a nail while she watches. You can tell that she wants more. It takes you a while to muster enough self control, but then you manage to pull out of Venus. She gasps in surprise.

But before she can even turn her head, you already bury yourself inside Freya's tight and waiting cunt.

That's how you fuck them both for quite a while. You actually last way longer than you thought you would. The constant switching from one woman to the other gives you always a couple of seconds to breathe. After a while, the two of them learn how to live with it and sharing you becomes visibly easier.

You're fucking Venus right now, while Freya has moved a little closer, so you can finger her at the same time. You can't even count anymore how often you switched between them. But when you deliver one unusual deep thrust into Venus, you're suddenly very aware that you probably won't be able to switch again.

Your strength is starting to leave you as well. Freya seems to have noticed.

"You're gonna give us your cum now, right? Dump your load into our pussies, after you used them like you wanted to."

Her words don't slow your approaching orgasm down at all.

"Oh, yes. Fill me up."

Venus sighs as she feels your cock throbbing inside of her. You reach out to Freya, moving her closer. The two of them are now side by side, their asses touching. You try to count your thrusts, but it's in vein.

When you cum, you bite your lip in pleasure. Venus' pussy almost traps you inside of her as you shoot two streaks of cum inside. But after a short struggle, you finally manage to pull out. One long streak hits both their asses, before you're able to push into Freya one last time.

"Fuck, yes."

She sighs loudly as she feels your cum rush into her body.

The three of you are all out of breath and you almost collapse on top of Freya.

"You still haven't answered my question."

You look over to Venus. Her ass is covered in cum and you see how a long trail of it is already running down her right leg.

"How would you like me tonight?"

You think hard about this. You might never be able to see her again after tonight. Who knows where she is gonna be tomorrow.

"I want you to wear nothing, but two things."

She raises an eyebrow in question, a cheeky smile on her lips.

"Heels and a choker."

Freya lets out a chuckle.

Venus gets off the balustrade. You notice how her arms are a little red. She kisses you again, while you're still inside the other woman.

"I'll be there at 10."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ma'am V

Aitana Bonmatí x Royal!Reader

Summary: You want your wife happy

"I'm not going to yell," Aitana said as she came home," I'm not going to yell."

You raised a brow. "You already said that."

Aitana looked at you, the rage in her chest simmering down slightly.

You're lounging on the bed, head propped up on your fist as you wore the most form fitting lingerie you had in your wardrobe.

"What?" You said," Can't a wife want to dress up for her wife?"

Aitana tore her gaze away, affixing her eyes to the headboard and very stubbornly not looking at you. "I'm meant to be angry at you."

"You can still be angry and look. I've dressed up just for you."

Aitana pursed her lips. "You only did that because you know I'm angry at you."

You scoffed in faux offence. "I am offended," You said," To think, my own wife thinks I'd stoop that low..." You winked, a grin spreading across your face. "Is it working?"

A pillow soared across the room, smacking you right in the nose.

"You bought the RFEF?!"

You scrubbed a hand over your face. "From your tone of voice...I'm guessing that you aren't impressed."

"You bought the RFEF?!"

"Are you okay, Tana? You've been repeating yourself an awful lot today."

"You bought the RFEF?!"

You sighed, pulling on one of your dressing gowns. "I wanted to do something nice for you. You were complaining about the management. I'm going to replace them. It's simple."

"Simple? Do you understand how this looks? My wife buying the RFEF? It's...It's unsportsmanlike!"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not an athlete."

Aitana looked like she was about to start arguing again so you pulled her into a hug, hooking your chin over her shoulder.

"You come home after every camp complaining. You talk about how corrupt they are." You shrugged, pulling back to look her in the eyes. "I'm doing you a favour."

"You don't know how to run the RFEF!"

"I'm good at starting foundations," You said," Do you know all royals have to have a cause?"

You relaxed back against the bed, undoing the belt of your dressing gown and allowing the bare hints of your gorgeous lingerie to be shown again.

"Will does wildlife stuff and homelessness and conservation. Harry had the veterans and the Invictus Games and climate change. Mine's been women's sports for a while now."

"Women's sports in a country that isn't your own?" Aitana resolutely didn't look at the lingerie you'd picked just for you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you exposed more of your body, looking up at your wife through your lashes. You flashed her a smile. "It's a nice start. Combatting misogyny at its source." You adjusted your position, widening your stance. "Making sports a safe place for women. You'll find I'm quite a charitable person."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"Trying to seduce me!" Aitana looked away from you. Or, at least, she made the action of looking away, turning her chin so you couldn't meet her eyes comfortably. But you could see her gaze darting back towards you, could see the way she had to tighten her hands into fists so she didn't touch you.

"Baby," You drawled," My love. My darling wife, do you think so low of me?"

"Yes."

"Come to bed."

Aitana pursed her lips and turned back to you, her voice soft and quiet. "You bought the RFEF for me?"

"I want you to be happy and going to camp doesn't make you happy. You love football and you should love playing football for your country. I promise I won't interfere much. I'm going to set up a foundation to run it. Just you wait. I'm going to change it for the better."

You looked up at her earnestly, eyes a little wide as you tried to seek her approval.

Aitana stepped closer, until her knees were pressed up against the bed and her body was between your legs.

"You really bought the RFEF to make me happy?"

"Of course," You scoffed," Why else would I want that shitty organisation? I love you. I want you happy. And seeing as you've rejected all my offers to join the Lionesses-"

Aitana rolled her eyes, swatting at your shoulder as she laughed. "I'm Spanish."

"You've got an English citizenship. You're a Princesse of England. I think you should be able to play for Eng-"

You didn't get to finish your thought.

Mainly because Aitana crashed her lips against yours and you melted into it like every time she kissed you.

"What are you laughing about now?" She asked as she pulled away.

You grinned. "You still angry at me?"

"Furious," Aitana said with a grin.

"I can take my bra off, if that helps."

Aitana pushed you flat on your back, settled as she straddled your hips.

"That's a good start."

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

thinkin about a reader who is a people-pleaser. who is so eager to please in bed. who needs to be needed. like you just can't quite get your head into your own pleasure unless you know he's enjoying himself. maybe part of it is that you want to feel wanted and to be what he wants.

you breathe into his ear, asking if he likes this, if this is what he wants; you need to know he's enjoying himself.

it's a good idea or it's a bad idea. depending.

nsfw ↓

GHOST senses the implicit question underneath immediately. you don't need to ask again. he's so equipped for a praise kink. you've shown him your weak point and goes for it, even if you yourself aren't totally aware of it. sinks his claws in and no lol you are never getting away. 

"course i like this," he murmurs, voice all gravel. "nowhere i'd rather be than inside you. you like this too?"

"yeah."

"like it when i talk to you? when i tell you how sexy you are like this? how tight you are?"

you clamp down on him in an involuntary response. he groans, then chuckles.

there is no sweeter place than right here between your thighs. he keeps talking, praise slipping out of his mouth while he watches you bunch and writhe, you squeezing him with your legs and your pussy, fitting him like you've got everything to offer him-- he dissolves into low, heated curses when you clamp down around him again and cum at his praise. you're done for. he'll never stop now.

GAZ is craftier about it. he'd never take advantage of you, darling, of course not. ignore how his voice dips, smooths, laces itself with authority, silk hiding steel. ignore the funny way his words seem suddenly smug. it flutters in your gut the way sees the power you're giving him and takes it with both hands--wields it like he's rescuing you from yourself. 

"of course i like this. now don't think so hard, sweet thing. let me handle it for you." 

he would never abuse his power over you, of course not, not even when he's edged you for so long tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you're begging him, and his eyes darken. voice soft, veiled, his murmuring hiding something you can't detect under the need he's stoking in you. 

he doesn't release you until you've told him what you want. this isn't just about him, he chides; he wants to know what you want. he wants to please you. but somehow, the lust in his eyes when you're begging him for release--to do what only he can do for you--somehow that's the only thing on your mind when you finally cum.

SOAP is pure id. you want to know what he likes? if he likes this? he'll tell you, yeah, he likes it, and the way you double down on riding him makes him want to cum then and there. it's not just the way you feel. it's the look on your face, the tension on your body, like you have something to prove. you're fighting your goddamn demons just bouncing on his dick. 

it makes him worse. he doesn't manipulate you. it's not like that. but you asked, aye? you wanted to know, didn't you? wanted to know what he likes, what makes him feel good, and soap wants to try everything. more than that, he wants to see you try everything. he wants to see the look in your eyes when he overstimulates you, when he puts you on your knees and pushes his boot against your cunt, making you ride it as you suck him off. he wants to blindfold you, cuff you, get you prone and under him in every possible sense and push you to your limit. all he has to do is reassure you that he's abso-fuckin-lutely enjoying this, hen. enjoying that fucked-out look in your eyes, that look of surprise on your face when you find something new that gets you off, that look he becomes most fond of--the "fuck, this just woke something in me" look. he fucking loves pulling orgasms from you that you never expected to have. and you're doing such a good job, aren't you? you're working so hard. 

he lavishes the praise on you. it takes no time at all for you to start responding to his praise even when it's clear he's turned on by just how depraved you're willing to be for his enjoyment. 

"you'd do anything for me, wouldn't ya?"

it makes him so goddamn hard when all you can do is affirm, half-babbling, wanting more praise. all he has to do is reassure you that he likes this. and he does. he really does.

...

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