#it’s not like this is a revelation or anything

[hellspawnmotel]

Question: I notice on your Deltarune posts you focus on a lot about relationships and gender roles and such. May I ask why exactly? Just curious as to why find this aspect of this game so particularly interesting? Is there anything else you find interesting about DR?

well. first of all yes I find many other aspects of DR to be interesting lmao. the discarded vessel, the conversations ralsei and kris have when the player isnt looking, the dreemurr-holiday family split, anything surrounding dess, the connections to undertale, what gaster's goals are, susie's potential, kris's whole everything.... but as I've said before, I don't really like making predictions outside of themes and character dynamics. and I feel that for most of these things, I don't have enough information yet to really dig my teeth in analysis-wise, or else I don't have anything interesting to say that hasn't been said already.

as for why I fixate on the theme of gender so much.......

it just happens to be a theme I'm extremely drawn to and interested in

idk if I've ever vibed with a single character as much as I do noelle. it's like she and all her aesthetics were made for me specifically to love. and noelle is..... at least given the context of the weird route, she's kind of a girl of all time? not just in terms of being a great character, but her position represents femininity in fiction to me in the same way as like, rei ayanami or anthy himemiya. she's very much herself but in the eyes of the narrative and the viewer she becomes every girl to ever live. she's turned into a symbol. all girls are like the rose bride. there's just already so many layers and so much to analyze about it- not just from the game itself but how the audience receives and reacts to the game.

I'm a woman

my absolute favorite genre of video games is JRPGs from the 90s and 00s and let me tell you something about that. I could name more games that I have stopped playing after getting hours in specifically because the way they handled their female characters pissed me off so much, than games that I've come out of feeling like the girls were written at all fairly. how women are written in this genre, and in fantasy at large, is something I already thought about all the time. and deltarune is very much based on games like that! it's not the only thing deltarune is based on but it's the thing I personally have the most experience with. and given what we've been presented with so far, I actually feel pretty confident, for the first time in my life, that deltarune is going to continue to do right by its female characters and have interesting things to say about women in JRPGs, video games, fantasy, and fiction in general, if only in the abstract. it's something I've been dying to see done well specifically in this setting, this genre, and this medium for years. and I'm gonna revel in that as much as I can.

......writing this I forgot that you also said "relationships" and not just gender roles lol but that answer's a lot simpler. I just love watching and writing character interaction. and again, it's something I can iterate on a lot despite not having the full picture yet. it's fun and cool.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Thinking about old man Logan struggling to… get it up with reader and he gets all insecure 😭😭

It's Natural

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

Logan has some trouble getting his one eyed trouser snake to wake up

A/N: I was giggling writing this. also my search history has really become awful and weird since i started writing fics.

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, Allusions to sex, Logan can't get it up, Logan being extremely dramatic, peepee touching(blowjobs people, blowjobs), did you know men can orgasm and/or ejaculate without an erection? Greek god punishments mentioned lol, a lil fluff, I put F but this actually could be gender neutral!

Huh....So this is what it feels like

Logan avoided your sympathetic gaze.

"It's okay baby-"

His face burned hotter.

"It's natural"

He scoffed.

Your arms wrapped around his waist as you hugged him from behind, your chest, pressed into his firm back, you gave him a squeeze. He moved to stand up from the bed, but you held onto him.

Why, why does God have to keep playing this cruel joke on him? Is this his punishment for his sins?

He rather be cast down by lightning.

Let the pits of hell open up and swallow him whole. Give him punishments fit for the Greeks. He'll gladly let himself be bound, where an Eagle will eat his liver every day; He'll push the damn rock up the mountain only for it to roll back down, and repeat; put him on a fiery wheel, spinning through the sky.

Anything

Anything but this.

He used to laugh at men who were in a position that he has found himself in. A bit of arrogance from aging and never having an issue before. He didn't believe he was invincible, he just thought maybe his body would give out before he would have to worry about a problem like this.

In fact his younger self was always full of piss and vinegar. His stamina unmatched. His refractory period just mere seconds after coitus.

It's not like you didn't get to experience that with him.

You've had to beg him to slow down before. He held a certain pride in being able to make a pretty young thing like you out of breath. Bury himself in you over and over, playfully taunting you because you couldn't keep up with an old man like him. He reveled in your whines and praises.

He never thought that you'd have to experience this, with him.

"You're making it a big deal." You say softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"Because it is." He snapped turning his head towards you.

"You're just tired. You've been overworking yourself baby." You rested your head on his shoulder as you hugged him. He tensed up. "It happens."

"Not to me." He grumbles sitting up from the bed. The mattress creaked from his weight disappearing.

"Lo." You sigh, dropping your arms in your lap as you watch him walk across the room, nude, reaching for his coat as he pulled out an cigar and his lighter from the inner pocket.

You admired his form. Muscular, hairy, fuck how could you not? He was sculpted, every curve, every divot, every muscle, made your mouth water.

He wouldn't look at you while he smoked, brows creased in frustration as he dragged himself deeper into a pit of self-hatred. A cloud of cigar smoke hazed the room and made you a little light-headed.

You had been fooling around. Logan came home early tonight, claiming he missed you. He was all over you, kissing and touching and you were loving it. One by one your clothes were yanked off - Logan had nearly ripped your pants off you - again.

Course time went on and you were becoming more eager for the main course- not that you didn't love the foreplay. You noticed Logan's frustrations as he kept grinding and kissing you. Before he finally pulled himself off you, shame in his face, and a glance downwards told you what you needed to know.

It really didn't bother you. Of course it didn't! You loved him. Things happen. He was already older than an average man, and to be honest his libido had surprised you at his age.

No words were going to making him feel better.

Fuck it, stiffy or not, he's your man, and you wanted him.

You climbed off the bed where he was leaning against the creaky old dresser you had thrifted from a local shop.

"Lo." You say, and his eyes only glanced at you for a second before glancing away. "If you're going to be like that, then I'll just do it myself."

Logan looked at you, a small bewilderment across his face as you dropped to your knees. You took his flaccid member into your hand, and began stroking him. Slowly and gently.

"Jesus-" His breath hitched. "Baby what are you doing?"

"Lo..." You hummed, looking up at him with a sinful smile, you leaned forward, playfully tapping his cock against your lips. "I want you. Okay?"

He watched in surprise, as you took him in between your lips, swirling your tongue over his tip. His stomach tensed, and flexed, as his lips parted as he watched you take him in between your lips.

Fucking hell

He tipped his head back, the feeling of your tongue swirling over his soft cock was different. You acted no difference from him being hard or soft though, taking him down your throat, bobbing your head over him. Your spit soaked his cock

Your hand came up to fondle his balls, gently squeezing and groping them, as your other hand ran soothingly up and down his thigh.

Just when he thought he couldn't love you more

The humiliation was there still. Yet every suck, pop, and lick as you worked over him pushed it farther and farther away. You devoured him as he were desirable.

A deep moan reverberated from you, and that was the nail in the coffin for him.

A hard grunt escaped him as his shoulders lurched forward and his hand dug into your hair, gripping you as he pushed himself further down your throat making you gag. His cum coming out in short, hot spurts.

His chest heaved, and he tipped his head back.

Not quite as powerful as normal orgasm, but as he looked down at you, it didn't matter.

You stood up, wiping your lips of spit and cum before leaning forward to kiss him, your arms wrapped around his waist.

"See? No biggie." You smile up at him.

He observed with you fascination.

"I love you. In every way." You reassured him, pecking his lips again.

The both of you stopped, surprise on your face as your felt something hard on your hip. He raised his brows as he looked down at you, a faint grin growing across his face. You hummed, leaning in to brush your lips over his, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

"Well, Bonjour Monsieur"

[dulcescorderitas]

first i want to say, i love your work and if its not a bother can i request a smutty Sam Winchester fic, where Sam is whiny and needy before sex, then during, he's dominant and taking control, and after, he's all cuddly and stuff?

notes: thank you so much, i'm glad you like it!! and it's def not a bother 🌸

sam is restless, shifting on the bed beside you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. his long fingers drum against your thigh, fidgety, impatient. every few minutes, he huffs, shifting closer, pressing his face against your shoulder, nosing at your skin. needy.

“baby,” he murmurs, voice already thick, already wrecked, even though you haven’t done anything yet. his lips graze your neck, breath hot, fingers twitching where they clutch at your waist. “need you.”

you hum, dragging your fingers through his hair, tugging just a little at the roots. his breath stutters, a quiet, desperate whimper spilling from his lips. fuck, he’s so sensitive, so eager for you, and it sends heat curling through your stomach.

“what do you need, sammy?” you ask, voice teasing, knowing exactly what he wants but making him say it anyway.

he groans, pushing closer, his hips shifting against yours, already half-hard and rutting against you like he can’t help it. “you,” he breathes. “i need you so so bad. please.”

you press a kiss to his temple, reveling in the way he shivers under your touch. but you don’t give in—not yet. you make him wait, make him squirm, until he’s practically vibrating with want, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his cock pressing insistently against you through his jeans.

but you give him what he wants.

when you finally push him onto his back, straddling his hips, his whole body tenses beneath you, his hands gripping at your thighs, his pupils blown wide with lust. his fingers dig into your flesh, squeezing, dragging you closer, grinding you down against him. his hands move up your sides firmly, and when he flips you over, pressing you into the mattress, it’s with an effortless strength that leaves you breathless.

“tease,” he growls, and before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding. his kiss is all-consuming, his body pressing you down, pinning you like he owns you, like he’s staking his claim.

his hands make quick work of your clothes, tearing them off with a kind of desperation that makes your head spin. his lips trail fire down your neck, your chest, his breath heavy, his control hanging by a thread. his teeth scrape at your skin, sucking bruises into your flesh like he wants to mark every inch of you.

when he finally pushes inside you, stretching you open, filling you in a way that makes you whimper, he stills for just a second, sucking in a sharp breath, savoring the way you clench around him. but then he moves, slow at first, rolling his hips, dragging out every sensation until you’re panting, gasping, clawing at his back, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

then he sets the pace—deep, hard, relentless.

he takes control, grips your wrists and pins them above your head, his breath ragged against your ear. he murmurs filth into your skin, praises and demands in equal measure, his voice rough, needy, claiming you over and over until all you can do is take it, take him. his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer, until your body shudders beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you as he follows with a deep, guttural groan, spilling into you, his body shaking with the force of it.

when you both crash over the edge, it’s almost too much—his grip tightens, his body trembles, and you feel everything, the intensity, the raw, desperate pleasure of it all.

and then—

complete softness.

sam collapses against you, breath still heavy, but his arms wrap around you, pulling you close, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. his lips press gentle kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, wherever he can reach. his fingers trace soothing patterns against your skin, his body warm, solid, anchoring you.

“you okay?” he whispers, voice softer now, sweeter, and when you nod, he smiles, pressing his forehead against yours. his fingers stroke your sides, grounding, reassuring, filled with the kind of love he struggles to put into words.

“love you, baby,” he murmurs, and it’s so tender, so full of everything he can’t always say, that your heart clenches in your chest.

he holds you, keeps you close, and for the rest of the night, he doesn’t let go, his breathing slow and steady against your skin.

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume

[pinkycraze]

more on anton.. and choking (i’m a choking/headlock fiend).. tags :: smut, anton’s big in every way wbk 😁🙏🏾

anton always reveled in how much bigger he was to you. your pretty cries rung out in his ears as he constantly pushed inch after inch into you, each thrust feeling as if he was going impossibly deeper. his hand sat prettily around your neck, large fingers easily wrapping around while his other held onto your waist, sure to leave bruises by the next day.

you looked like a pretty doll under him, eyes glossy, incoherent babbles and murmurs leaving your mouth every time he pushed into you, and drool trickling down your cheek. he smiles at you, grip on your neck tightening slightly, not too much but enough to make you gasp after every pretty moan.

“such a mess under me, angel,” he murmurs, his thrusts slowing, which made you whine in return. “awh, baby, you don’t like that?” he asks, laughing softly before delivering a particularly hard thrust, ripping a yelp from your lips and making your eyes roll back. “you like when i’m rough?” another hard thrust, which had you scrambling to find something, anything, to hold onto. “god, you’re such a whore,” he finally mumbles before speeding back up, the mere sight of you crumbling underneath him putting an even bigger smile on his face.

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor

Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Series masterlist

Prev parts: Lesson 1: Female anatomy Lesson 2: Male anatomy Extra Credits 01: Communication skills Extra Credits 02: French Independent Study 01: Art Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: Grades, feelings, and a practical lesson in human reproduction

WC: ~14.6K (oopsie/I’m not sorry/you’re welcome)

C/W: 18+, SMUT, NSFW, MDNI! Fluff, smut, fluffy smut, smutty fluff, fingering, clit stim, nipple play (M+F rec), p in v sex (protection is discussed; always wrap it irl), pantie stealing (consensual), aftercare, feelings, slight cream pie, brief mention of food and eating, reader wears a short skirt, Wayne Munson. I’ve tried to keep physical descriptions of reader as neutral as possible, lmk if I need to change anything. 

My masterlist

You and Eddie have decided it’s best if you keep your whatevership between the two of you, at least for now. Neither your friends nor family would be thrilled to discover you were giving ‘extracurricular attention’ to the boy the whole town regards as a lawbreaking freak. (Technically, you suppose he is actually both - weed dealing and his general style and demeanour make that statement factually correct, but you don’t see him in the negative way they do.) Furthermore, your teacher may be reluctant to come through on those agreed upon extra credits if he finds out that the lessons you’re offering veer significantly more towards the ‘practical’. So, keeping it on the down-low it is. 

However, that hasn’t stopped you from thinking about your study sessions with Eddie. In fact, he’s on your mind almost constantly. You’ve also both become more brazen in your interactions, and neither of you look away now when you catch each other’s eye in the halls. And you’ll both stare dreamily and smile across the cafeteria as he nibbles on pretzels and you mull over a thorny problem in a notebook, chewing on the end of your pencil.

You’ve spoken on the phone again too. For the most part it’s just as… stimulating as the first time, if not more so, and you're both gaining confidence and are able to articulate your needs and desires with increasingly elaborate and creative language. But to your surprise you’ve also ended up chatting too, and more than once you’ve devolved into fits of hysterical giggles. You’ve never been able to be so open with a partner before, and you’re revelling in the intimacy.

But, he’s not your partner partner. You didn’t mean it like that. You’re fully aware of Eddie’s… situation, and you’re pretty sure he’s not ready for any kind of official commitment. You really need to be careful with your language, or you're going to slip up one day and mess up whatever the hell this is…

On the day of your usual Biology class with Eddie, everyone’s milling around the science lab, waiting to get their test results. It’s the final class before the end of the semester, and Mr Clarke knows better than to expect anyone to do any work, so nobody’s in their seats and the room is filled with general murmur and chatter.

A steady stream of students collects their papers from Mr Clarke at his desk. Yours is near the top of the pile - you being you, you’re always one of the first to head up to find out how you did, and generally, the less… academically inclined students hang back until the end, wanting to delay the agony and prolong their blissful ignorance for as long as possible. 

Mr Clarke passes you your paper, and you spy a large, red ‘A+’ in the top corner. You pinch your face into a scrunched up smile, and you can feel your cheeks heating. Yes, it’s one of your favourite subjects, but you never want to assume anything.

“No surprises there!”, Mr Clarke jokes, as you proudly yet somewhat bashfully look over your work as you head back to your desk.

You’re dying to know how Eddie did, but presume he’s going to wait it out like the other ‘cool kids’, and you don’t really want to rub your success in his face in case it didn’t go well for him, so you slide back into your seat without looking in his direction.

A few moments later, there’s a sudden loud whoop from the front of the class. Everyone turns to face the clamour, and to your surprise you see Eddie standing next to Mr Clarke’s desk, arms aloft and eyes wide, grinning as he shakes his paper above his head like a Tusken Raider.

Wait, did you just make a nerd reference? What the fuck is this guy doing to you?

You try not to stare as Eddie’s gesticulations make his torn Iron Maiden shirt ride up to expose the smooth planes of his abdomen and the dark sprinkling of hair leading down beneath his waistb— You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, this feat seemingly significantly more difficult for you than passing a science test.

He changes position, hunching over now, and punches the air with one fist, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth as he stares down at the paper he’s crinkling in the fierce grip of his other hand.

“Yeah! Goddamn B minus! B fuckin’ minus, baby! Wooo!! I am fucking walking that stage, I can feel it!”

A few of your classmates start to clap, and soon most of the class is applauding Eddie, a few even joining in with the whoops and hollers. He bends at the waist and gives a theatrical bow, still grinning, much to the delight of the whole class.

Even Mr Clarke is clapping, ignoring Eddie’s profanity for once and with a broad smile on his face too. Eddie smiles back, extending his hand to the older man, who takes it happily, shaking it and slapping Eddie on his bicep as he says, 

“Congratulations, Mr Munson. I knew you could do it, son.”

Before you’re fully cognisant of what you’re doing, you’re out of your seat and rushing towards Eddie, colliding with his chest with a thump as you fling your arms around his ribs, hugging him tightly. He freezes for a moment, stunned, before his arms move around your shoulders, gripping you tightly, crushing the document even more, before his empty hand flattens over the centre of your back, gently but intensely rubbing up and down.

He drops his chin onto your shoulder, and turns his face so it’s nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a couple of deep, slow inhales, and his warm breath fans out over your skin and trickles down the back of your shirt as he adds a contented hum that almost short-circuits your brain. Quietly, you mumble into his chest, 

“Congratulations, Eddie."

Just as quietly, almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, Eddie replies, voice slightly cracking,

"I couldn't have done it without you, Princess…”

You remain there at the front of the class, embracing, rocking slightly, neither of you seemingly wanting to let go. Eddie's palm continues to make patterns on your back, and you keep your arms around his middle. The heat from his chest seeps into yours, and you begin to get lost in his heady scent of cigarettes, spicy cologne and weed, something so quintessentially Eddie.

Behind you, you hear Mr Clarke clear his throat, and you and Eddie break apart as he proclaims, 

“Well, I think that proves that the student-to-student tutoring project is a success! Well done, both of you. Okay, who’s next?”

Keen to minimise further attention from your classmates, you both make your way back to your seats. He sits behind his desk, and you pull your stool to face him over it. 

Eddie’s lab partner offers him a fist bump, adding, “Nice work, dude,” to which Eddie reciprocates and replies, “Thanks, man,” before the guy wanders off to chat to his friends across the room.

You and Eddie stare at each other across the workbench. All you seem to be able to do is grin goofily, and you see Eddie’s cheeks pinken to an even darker shade. Eventually, you manage to speak.

“Well done, Eddie. Seriously. I’m so proud of you, all your hard work paid off!”

He glances down at his paper again, seemingly needing to keep checking it to make sure it’s real, that he actually passed. A slightly incredulous look on his face, he replies, chuckling,

“Fuckin’ B minus. Wayne’s gonna wanna frame this shit, I swear!”

You bark out a laugh, before responding,

“You should let him. This is a big moment!”

You both laugh again before Eddie continues, more seriously this time,

“I meant what I said, you know. I couldn’t’ve done this without your help.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You know I wouldn’t’ve done it if I didn’t want to, though, right?”

“I know, I know. I just wanted you to know how grateful I am, is all…”

His face suddenly drops, and his eyes fall to the tabletop as he says, more quietly,

“Uh… I guess this means we won’t be studying anymore though, right?”

Something twists in your stomach. You hadn’t considered that this might change things. Thoughts roil in your mind. You don’t want whateverthisis with Eddie to end, that’s for certain, and from his tone you surmise that’s not what he wants either. So you make him an offer.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think I could go for at least one more lesson. Call it a celebration! If you wanted to, that is?”

You’ve barely finished your sentence before Eddie’s almost-yelling, 

“Yeah! I mean, yes, if you want to as well, I mean…”

You try to suppress a smile as you reply,

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. I’m free after school, if that’s any good for you?”

Later on, when Eddie gives you a ride to his place, things feel different, and it’s not just the residual adrenalin from this afternoon’s test results. The anticipation is palpable. It’s like you’re both more relaxed, but somehow also more on edge, as if the air itself is charged and your skin is buzzing. You know where you’d like to take things, but you’re not sure how far Eddie will want to go, so you have a vague plan of offering suggestions but ultimately being guided by him.

You sit on the edge of his sofa feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Eddie brings drinks, clearing his throat as he sits stiffly next to you, occasionally glancing in your direction.

“So, uh, what’s the subject for tonight, Teach?”, he says with a nervous chuckle.

“I, uh, thought we could do some revision. Maybe bring everything together, and go over human reproduction?”

You raise your eyebrows as you say the final two words, hoping Eddie might catch your meaning. He gulps, and his cheeks tinge with a blush.

“That’s not a subject I have a great deal of knowledge about. But, you already knew that, right?”

He titters nervously, the pink in his cheeks deepening in intensity.

“Yeah, I know, Eddie. Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the deal there? I mean, you’re young, fit, good looking. I don’t wanna pry, I’m just curious, I guess?” 

Fuck, really fit. So good looking... Wait, did you just feel butterflies?

Realising your curiosity might have outrun your mouth, you attempt to backtrack.

“You totally don’t have to tell me. God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, Princess, it’s fine, really. It’s not like I never, um, had the opportunity. Mostly cheerleaders wanting free weed, or drunk wives or bored moms wanting a bit of illicit fun at The Hideout. For my 18th my dad even arranged a couple of female performers for me. He’s in jail, you knew that, right?” 

You give him what you hope is a sympathetic nod.

“He got a message to a buddy of his, and they turned up after a gig. He instructed me to, uh, take my pick, or have both, if I wanted. So after we’d played, we went backstage, and we talked, and they were really nice ladies, but, uh, it just didn’t feel right somehow. They didn’t say anything afterwards, apart from how I was such a nice boy and if I ever changed my mind I should totally give them a call. And the guys just assumed what had gone on and acted like I was some kind of dog, and I guess I didn’t correct them, and, well, here we are…” 

He’s bashful again, embarrassed at his own apparent reluctance as well as his lack of experience, and you see him picking at the skin around one of his thumbnails. Looking at the floor, he continues,

“I guess I wanted my first time to, I dunno, be a bit more special? Must sound pretty stupid, coming from a hot blooded male, or whatever.”

You both smile as you remember one of your previous conversations and what you’d said. You want to reassure him.

“No, that’s not stupid at all. It’s not just girls who deserve a special first time, you know. Everyone deserves to feel comfortable, and if you haven’t felt that way yet then that’s totally okay. I’m actually proud of you for not feeling pressured into doing something that didn’t feel right.”

He turns his head sideways and looks at you at a quirky angle through his hair, a broad smile threatening to emerge.

“Yeah? Thanks, Princess, that means more than you know.”

You smile back at him, that warmth in your chest spreading throughout your torso. Breaking the moment, Eddie asks, with more than a little trepidation,

“So, what exactly d'you wanna do..?”

Your mind churns with possibilities, and you open your mouth, not entirely certain about what’s going to come out. But before you can say anything, Eddie jumps in.

“Oh, wait. I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

He reaches over to the side table next to him and returns with a lightly rolled piece of paper. Unfurling it, he somewhat nervously presents to you.

“You said you wanted a picture. So, I, uh, drew this for you.”

You take it from him and open it fully. It’s an illustration. A human brain, seen from above, one half of it beautifully rendered in graphite pencil and exquisitely shaded and detailed. The ridges and bumps look like you could almost reach out and touch them. This is incredible enough, but what really catches your attention is the other side. It’s a riot of flowers in different types and colours, overlapping and clustered in a formation that perfectly matches the silhouette of the other half. It’s beautiful.

Your hand comes to cover your mouth and you gasp a little. 

“Oh, Eddie, this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen! Did you really do this for me?”

Bashfully, he pulls a strand of hair across his cheek as he replies, 

“Sure did, just for you. I chose the subject for that big, beautiful brain of yours, and then I added the flowers ‘cos, y’know, you’re beautiful. You’ve got it all, Princess.”

Now it’s your turn to feel embarrassed. You really weren’t expecting something so amazing, or to feel like this about it. Or to feel this way about him.

You lift the drawing to look closer at the divine detail, and it’s then that you focus in on the background. It looks like a page from a book, and as you scan the words you see dictionary and thesaurus entries under ‘beauty’, spotting beautiful, beauteous, charming, attractive, lovely, alluring... You’re absolutely stunned.

It’s then that you notice the raw edge on one side of the paper.

Wait. 

“Eddie…” You turn to him, brows furrowing with a mixture of concern and excitement. 

“Tell me you didn’t steal this page from the library!”

“Uh, I may have.” He chuckles lightly. “Hey, it’s not like people use it much. It just seemed so appropriate, and I just, kinda, liberated it for an artistic cause.”

You can’t deny that a vehicle for Eddie’s amazing artwork is likely a far better use for this page than it mouldering away in a dusty school library. And it’s not like you could return it now, anyway. 

Everything about it, from the intentions to the execution, is beautiful. 

You tell Eddie so as you run your fingers over the lines. 

“It’s wonderful, Eddie. I’ll treasure it forever.”

Tearing your eyes away from the art in front of you, you lock eyes with him, and the atmosphere in the room seems to thicken. You’re not sure how Eddie’s feeling, but there’s a quiver in your belly and a heat in your core that’s demanding a significant proportion of your attention. You place the paper carefully down on the coffee table before murmuring quietly,

“Would you like to, uh, do that revision now?”

Eddie shifts in his seat, his cheeks pulling up as he tries to stifle a grin and maintain his composure.

“Okaaaay?”

You shift on the sofa and Eddie can’t help but allow the grin spread across his face. He twists his upper body and turns towards you, and puts one hand beside him on the seat as he drops his chin and peers up at you through his lashes. He looks adorable, a little timid but eager to please, like the world’s cutest puppy, and you let out a quiet giggle.

Coyly, he pulls another strand of hair across his upper lip (he really has to stop doing that) as he broaches,

“Are you gonna test me?”

A sultry smile spreads across your face as you recall the first lesson you had together.

“I taught you a lot of terminology in our first lesson. I wanna see how much you can remember.” 

The tip of your tongue peeks out and teases your upper lip.

You can tell he’s still not sure exactly what you mean, but you help him understand as you shuffle forwards and, perching yourself on the very edge of the sofa cushion, you slowly drift your hands up under your skirt, slip your thumbs into the sides of your underwear, lift your butt slightly and begin to pull them down your legs.

Eddie gets it now, and to your surprise he rushes quickly off the sofa and drops to his knees on the floor in front of you.

“Oh shit, please let me help?”

You smile broadly and allow him to take over. 

His fingertips lightly brush the skin of your thighs. They’re rough, calloused, you presume from years of guitar playing, but the feeling is certainly not unpleasant. You experience a frisson of excitement, imagining how his rough hands might feel running over other parts of you.

He gently hooks your underwear with his fingers and, slowly, continues their descent down your legs. He’s careful, reverent almost, like you’re a porcelain doll and he’s scared you will break. You’ve never been treated with such care before. You feel like a precious jewel, and his nickname for you, Princess, suddenly takes on new significance.

He’s concentrating more now than he has the whole time you’ve been helping him study, seemingly taking in every detail of your thighs, your panties, and, especially, the patch of damp fabric that’s already soaked with your arousal. When his eyes flick up to yours he realises he’s been caught staring, and he gives you a little bashful smile.

He removes your underwear by gently lifting each of your feet. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he quickly pushes the ball of material under the sofa. You don’t let on that he’s not being nearly as subtle about that as he thinks he is. 

Placing one foot on either side of his knees, you part your legs. Then, tantalisingly slowly, you move the hem of your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. 

You’ve never seen anyone have a religious experience, but you think the expression on Eddie’s face might come close. His eyes, fixated on your centre, are blown dark and opened wide, and his mouth is slightly open. His eyes are furrowed upwards in that almost-surprised look you like so much, and you see him swallow, hard. 

You feel your cunt clench gently. Yep, you still like him looking at you.

“So… what can you remember, Eddie?”

“I— I—”

You give him a moment, taking the opportunity to drink him in, and watch as his tongue comes out to slowly wet his lips. The edges of his mouth curl in the slightest half-smile, and he huffs out an incredulous breath. He’s close enough to you that you feel it on your inner thighs and core. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you. Adoring, pliant, submissive even. Oh, this is new.

You lean forward to lightly hold his wrist, and guide his hand up towards your centre. You can feel him trembling slightly, and remember that this is likely the first time he’s ever touched anyone so intimately.

“Okay, let’s try this a different way. Do you remember what this whole area is called?”

As you ask the question you trace his fingertips lightly across your mound and the soft skin of your inner thighs. You place his open hand against you and curve his fingers to cup you gently, his palm pressing featherlight against your hidden clit and his fingertips nestled in your trimmed pubic hair. He lets out a trembling hum.

“Umm, Volvo. No, wait, vul-va?”

“Yes, that’s so good Eddie.” 

You put on a lilting, singsong voice, letting him know how well he’s doing, and he puffs out another tremulous breath.

You hold his first two digits and direct him to curl the rest out of the way. You guide his fingertips between your folds, and they glide easily through your silky wetness.

“Okay, what about this part?”

Eddie lets out a long, low sigh, and swallows deeply. He’s completely fixated on what he can see and feel. You slide his fingers up and down your soaked slit a couple of times, and Eddie’s jaw drops open further.

“Eddie, are you still with me? Can you remember what these are called?”

“Huh? Uh, l— lips, I think?”

“Good enough.”

You smirk at him, though he doesn’t notice, he’s clearly far too focussed on where his fingers are to care about anything else. You revel in the attention. No one else has ever been this gentle with you, this adoring, attentive, tender. And he’s fucking mesmerised. It’s a far cry from the back-seat fumbles and quick pokes in study rooms that you’re used to. You’re definitely not going to be able to go back to that now.

Desperate for Eddie to touch more of you, you continue his education.

“Next, I want you to find my clitoris. Do you think you can do that?”

You let go of his fingers and settle back onto the sofa on your elbows, processing Eddie’s shocked and nervous expression as he glances up to your face.

“You, uh, want me to do this by myself?”

“Yes, I trust you. If it hurts, or you’re way off, I promise I’ll help. But I think it would be good for you to try. Also, I want to see if you can work out when you’ve got it without me having to tell you.”

His brow furrows very slightly at this; he doesn’t seem convinced that this is possible, but you’re in front of him, spread and waiting, so who is he to question it. He moves his wet fingertips slowly through your folds, gliding easily, studying his path but also flicking his eyes up to your face episodically. You close your eyes and hum, enjoying the sensation. 

As he moves further up you can feel a growing uncertainty in his movements, but just as you think he’s about to give up or ask for help, one of his calloused fingertips glances the side of your clit, causing you to inhale sharply as your eyes spring open.

He freezes, terrified he’s done something wrong or hurt you, but you smile down at him and reassure him,

“That’s so close, you’re almost there.”

He smiles, confidence buoyed, and you notice he’s watching your face now as he moves his fingers experimentally. One sideways movement has a rough fingertip connecting perfectly with your sensitive nub, and you let out an abrupt whine.

Eddie presses a little harder, testing, his mouth still open and the tip of his tongue teasing his front teeth.

You moan, loudly, and your head tips back and connects with the cushions of the sofa.

Boldly, Eddie begins to move his fingers, up and down to start with, which makes you hum with contentment. But when, unbidden, he then starts to draw tiny circles around his newly-discovered treasure, your whines turn to full-on moans.

“Is this it? Am I getting it, Princess?”

You glance down at him again, at that beautiful face now adorned with a smirk that seems to be a mix of experimentation and new-found cockiness. Breathlessly, but smiling, you manage, 

“Yeah, you’re definitely getting it.”

And you let out another long moan as he continues to trace those tiny patterns. You could definitely lose it from this alone, but you want to teach him a little more.

“I want you to do something else as well. Do you remember where my vagina is?”

“Uh, I think so.”

Eddie swallows, as he moves his other hand up towards your centre. He pauses, and, looking from your face to your cunt again, he begins to slowly push one fingertip between your wet folds.

You wince as you feel a slight discomfort, and offer, helpfully, 

“Try going a little lower.”

“Oh, okay, sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry, Eddie, nobody gets it on their first tr— ah!” 

He’s definitely getting it.

You want to reassure him even more, tell him that this is the best you’ve ever felt when anyone’s touched you, but the words dissolve as his index finger easily breaches your sopping hole.

You sigh and close your eyes, enjoying the subtle stretch and finally having some part of him inside of you. But Eddie’s stilled, and you realise he needs more guidance. 

“You can go in further, if you want?”

That’s seemingly all the encouragement he needs, as he pushes further, all the way to his ringed knuckle, and you feel the knobbled metal against your lips. He closes his eyes and begins babbling,

“Oh, g-god, you feel so good. You’re like silk, like velvet. You’re so fucking warm, and so goddamn wet, Jeezus!”

You allow you both to enjoy the moment, before deciding to put your musician’s fingers theory to the test.

“Can I give you some more instructions, Eddie?”

He looks up at you, blinking, seeming to come back to himself.

“Yes! Tell me what you want. Please tell me what to do to make you feel good. I’ll do it, I’ll do all of it.”

Oh, this is gonna be fun…

“Okay, add another fing— Oh fuck, that’s it! Shit, that feels so nice.”

Your hips buck forwards as Eddie slides his middle finger in to join the first, pushing them deep and coating his rings in your abundant slick. He lets out a shuddering hum as your walls clench gently around him and you gasp at the sense of increasing fullness.

“Okay, keep your hand so your palm is upwards. That’s it, I know it’s a little uncomfortable but I promise it’s worth it. Now curl your fingers, like you’re beckoning me. Just gently, not too fa-ah— Oh fuck!”

Eddie’s deft fingertips brush that most sensitive spot inside of you, and your legs tense as your back arches off the sofa. You reach down to grab his wrist. You chuckle, smiling down at him. 

“Okay, stop, just for a moment, otherwise I’m not gonna be able to speak. Congratulations, you just found my g-spot.”

“I— I did?”

He grins, huffing out a breath, and experimentally curls his fingers again, his eyes glued to your face.

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” is all you can manage, as your hands move to grip the sofa cushions.

Eddie pauses for a brief moment, glancing down to look at your sodden core, and you take the opportunity to give him one final instruction.

“If you keep doing what you were doing to my clit at the same time, you’re gonna make me cum. Do you wanna do that?”

Eddie’s voice drops almost to a growl as he splutters, the words tumbling out in a rush,

“Oh fuck yes, Princess. Please let me do that!”

He adjusts his position, shuffling closer to you, his eyes scanning between your face and your cunt. You notice the substantial bulge in his pants and how he’s occasionally shifting his hips, bucking them up into the seam of his sinfully tight jeans.

“So… I just keep doing this, and… this?”

He pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you, curling them as his rings touch your soaking lips, and continues to draw tiny circles around your clit. His wide eyes meet yours, his level of concentration evident. You nod, smiling, and relax back onto the sofa. You lose yourself in the sensations, enjoying Eddie’s ministrations and letting yourself drift away on a sea of warmth and pleasure.

Before long a familiar pressure builds in your abdomen. You let out a loud sigh and your hips buck forward again of their own accord. You hear Eddie’s breath become louder and more ragged, and his movements speed up, his fingers pumping deeper and the pressure he’s placing on your clit increasing just a fraction. It’s enough to start sparks flying along your nerves and have your back arching and your thighs trembling.

You start groaning, almost letting go before you realise you should probably give Eddie some warning.

“Shit, I’m so close. Don’t stop, dontfuckingstop, ohshitohshitohshii—”

The universe stops. Time ceases to exist. Your vision goes black before being filled with a million tiny stars, and a supernova of euphoria erupts from your core and spreads throughout your entire body. You think you hear yourself moaning, possibly Eddie as well, but the sounds seem so far away. 

You don’t notice that you’ve arched your back even further until you regain some sense of reality and realise the top of your head is now against the back of the sofa. Gradually, feeling comes back into the rest of your body, a bone-deep warmth suffusing you as your contorted limbs gradually return to their usual positions.

Your vision finally comes back into focus, and you glance down to see Eddie staring at you, wide-mouthed and somewhat stunned. Propping yourself up on the heels of your hands, you grin as you comment, voice syrupy and possibly a little slurred,

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re good at that. Screw the B minus, you definitely deserve an A plus!”

He gives you a lopsided grin, one dimple popping, and chuckles lightly as, watching your centre, he begins to slowly withdraw himself from you. Your body seems to have other ideas, as your walls clench around his fingers and a small aftershock makes you tremble. It definitely doesn’t want to let him go.

He pauses as he examines his soaked digits, moving them apart and studying your slick as it covers his palm and runs over his knuckles. You think you spot a minuscule drop of his jaw as his hand twitches, but then he stops himself. You’re slightly nervous that you may have misread his movements, but you decide to be bold anyway.

“Do you wanna taste me?”

His eyes snap to yours. They’re wide, like a kid that’s been caught trying to steal cookies. Sitting up a little, you gently take hold of his wrist and move his hand closer to his mouth, giving him permission. His eyes don’t leave yours as he drops his jaw, lolls out his tongue and pushes his sodden fingers into his mouth. Only when his lips reach his knuckles does his gaze falter. His eyes flicker closed and he hums loudly, licking and sucking, cleaning up every speck. He eventually pulls them out, mumbling low,

“Christ, you taste so good.”

You heat at the praise; no one’s ever told you that before. Feeling bold again, you continue,

“You wanna taste me properly one day? Put your mouth on me? I gotta admit I’m keen to see what else you can do with that tongue…”

Eddie gulps audibly as he shuffles forwards and grabs hold of your knees, looking like he’s kneeling at an altar. The altar of you.

“Oh holy shit, please let me do that. God, I wanna get my tongue inside you so bad.”

He’s practically drooling, and the sight of him literally on his knees and begging to taste your cunt has you clenching all over again. But as much as you want that (and you really, really want that), there’s now an aching need inside you that only something larger can satisfy. If Eddie’s willing to give it to you. Keen to bookmark this for another time, you proffer,

“Whaddaya say we make that a whole lesson all to itself?”

He grins at you, seemingly pleased with this proposal.

Eddie rests back on his heels and places his hands in his lap. He’s not ushering you to leave, which is good, but he seems a little unsure of himself. Conscious of how exposed you still are, you start to straighten yourself up, lowering your skirt and checking your hair in case the sofa cushions have done a number on it. 

You have no idea what the protocol is for this situation. You’re aware that there’s likely an issue in his pants that could use some attention, but you’re not sure how to broach it. You know what you’d like to do, but are suddenly nervous and can’t look at him, and start fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He seems to be having the same dilemma, as he asks,

“So, what do we do now?”

He could be expecting a suggestion like watching a movie, or ordering pizza. But you decide to ask for what you want, whilst also giving him an out just in case this is too sudden. You fiddle with your hem again and catch his gaze as you blather,

“Well, I know we’ve kinda talked about this before, maybe not as much as we could have. But I, uh— I’d really like to, um, have you inside of me. If you wanted to. An— and it doesn’t actually have to be now, or even soon. We can totally go at your pace, and I realise I’m asking to be your first, but—”

He cuts you off with a single syllable. 

“Yes.” 

It’s the shortest sentence you’ve ever heard him utter. And in this moment it’s the most beautiful. His face is almost blank, completely serious with an edge of hopefulness etched in his brows. Your chest fills with pride and gratitude. He really does trust you enough to want to do this with you. But what happens next is a surprise. 

“Umm… would now be okay?”

You grin broadly. 

“Uh, no, not at all. Shall we, um… take this to your bedroom?”

He smiles softly before breaking out into a wide but bashful grin.

He stands and, offering his hands, helps you to get up. Eddie makes sure you’re okay to move and, at a pace you can cope with on your shaky legs, gently leads you across the trailer and down the narrow corridor to his bedroom, repeatedly looking at you with an incredulously dopey look.

He pauses with his palm against the door. Looking at you ruefully through his lashes, he warns you, quietly,

“Just so you know, it’s a mess in here.”

You reassure him,

“I don’t mind. Frankly, so long as you’re not storing a rotting corpse or running a meth lab, I couldn’t care less.”

He swings the door open and leads you inside. You step through and take a brief moment to glance around the room, noticing the posters on the walls, piles of clothes, D&D paraphernalia and various bits of band equipment. It’s almost exactly as you’d pictured it. 

Standing in the middle of the carpet, he turns to face you, holding one of your hands in his and fiddling with your fingers. His hesitancy is adorable.

“Soooo… What do we do first?”

You take both of his hands in yours, squeezing them lightly, and through a soft smile you say airily,

“Well, it’s usually customary to do a little kissing. I know you know how to do that, because…”

Your cheeks heat as you remember your library lesson. Eddie’s throat bobs as he swallows, and his gaze flits around your face, settling on your lips as he tries, and fails, to get his breathing under control. 

You gently place his hands at your waist and then loop your arms around his neck, finally getting to sink your fingers into his long, luscious locks. They’re much softer than you thought they’d be, and you feel him tremble as you lightly drag your fingertips across his scalp.

You step towards him and slowly lean in, moving your face closer to his, pulling Eddie ever so slightly to indicate that he should do the same. There’s the briefest of pauses as your lips hover, your breaths mingling, before you both close the minuscule gap.

It’s a little uncoordinated, you two never having done this standing up before, but none of that matters as your mouths connect. Eddie’s lips are soft and pillowy, and the feeling of his hands on your waist, his mouth against yours and that familiar faint vanilla scent completely invade your senses. He has a hint of a five o’clock shadow, and you feel his scruff scratch softly against the sensitive skin of your face. You know it’s going to leave you red and puffy, and you relish being able to take a reminder of this away with you. 

It’s chaste yet passionate as your lips meld and release and find a rhythm. You muss his hair and he hums, and the ache between your legs grows vivid again. You press your front against his, and he breaks your kiss with a soft,

“Oh!”

Wow, he really does want this. A whole lot. You nudge against him again, relishing the firmness you can feel in the front of his jeans. The seam of his zipper only adds to the sensation, and you feel his obvious and substantial erection swell and kick towards you through the stiff fabric. You’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life, but for Eddie’s sake you’re determined to take it slow.

Okay, maybe not that slow. You thumb at the hem of his shirt, and with what you hope is a cute pout, ask,

“Can we take this off?”

He grins, dimples popping adorably, and takes half a step back. You think your own smile might rival his as you grasp the bottom of his shirt and peel it up and over his head. Not teasing, not rushing, the speed is just right, and you bite your lip when his arms lift and his hair fluffs, and you drop the garment to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way it affects you. Eddie catches you staring, and for a brief moment you worry that he’s self conscious, or nervous of your opinion of his physicality. But instead, in a cheeky show of burgeoning confidence, that you hope is somewhat down to you, he murmurs,

“Do you… like what you see, Princess?”

Your eyes continue to scan his chest as you hum in approval.

“Oh yes, definitely…”

You bring one of your hands up and run the tips of your fingers over the tattoos on his pec. Eddie shivers and inhales a shaky breath, and then whines a little as you flatten your hand over the muscle.

Your other hand traces up his waist and abs, making him stutter out a bashful giggle as you hit a ticklish spot, until both hands come to rest on the upper part of his chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath your palms. You look over his torso, his shoulders and throat, before your gaze flicks over his lips and reaches his eyes again.

“I meant what I said before, you know. You’re really pretty. Has anyone else ever told you that?”

“Uh, nope. No, they haven’t. But from you, I believe it.”

You smile softly at him, and run your hands over his collarbones and down the sides of his pecs. Experimentally, you allow the pads of your thumbs to gently skim his nipples. He hisses in a breath, and his responsiveness increases the throb in your core.

You let your hands travel lower, and they come to rest at his belt line. You can’t help but salivate at what you know is beneath as you work his belt buckle open, and then his button. You look up and smile at him as you pull gently on his zipper, lowering it, and he smiles back, shaking his head almost imperceptibly as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. 

You hook your thumbs over his waistband and start to tug. He helps, easing the fabric over the soft swell of his ass as you pull his jeans down until you’re crouching on the floor before him. He sighs as his member is released from its denim confines, tenting obnoxiously in his briefs, and you miss the fond smile he gives you, accompanied by another imperceptible head shake, as you concentrate on freeing his feet.

Once he’s standing in just his boxers, you rise and sit on the edge of his bed, gently pulling on his hands and guiding him to sit next to you. You swivel to face each other, fingers still linked. The two of you somehow manage to make some of the most innocent of gestures seem the most intimate, and there’s a peculiar moment of bashfulness between you. You huff through your noses, chuckling, and you can see Eddie’s cheeks have pinkened again as he looks down at your joined hands, fingers intertwined.

Finally, his gaze meets yours again, and his face is suddenly serious. His eyes flit to your lips, and you take this as your cue to lean forward.

Your noses bump, and initially neither of you are sure which way to turn your head. It’s awkward and sweet and adorable, but when your lips finally connect all of that melts away. You soon both get into your stride, and it’s even hotter than it was in the library. You don’t have to worry about noise, or getting caught, and there’s no time limit - this time you can do this for as long as you want, and the thought of it fills you with a warm sensation that you can’t quite identify.

Eddie’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and as you run the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip his mouth opens instantly, allowing you access to him and he to you. Without hesitation he plunges his tongue into your mouth, and deftly swirls it around your own, moaning as he moves his hand to grasp the back of your head, just like he did in the library. It’s messy and hot, and with no fear of being discovered you're both much more vocal, sighing and moaning as you move against one another. Eddie’s free hand comes to rest gently on your waist, but you can tell he’s tense and holding back. You don’t want him, or you, to hold back anymore. 

You break the kiss and look at him. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, and his lips are parted, reddened and glossy with your shared spit. In one swift motion you twist, lift one leg, and position yourself astride Eddie’s thighs. Then, to his complete surprise, you teasingly fiddle with your hem for a moment before lifting your shirt up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. You chose it especially, the delicate lace cups leaving your nipples visible through the sheer fabric.

Eddie’s eyes widen and his jaw goes slack and he’s just… staring, like he’s seeing colour for the first time. You allow him to look at you for a little while, and his awestruck, hungry gaze is almost as effective as his touch for increasing the arousal at your core. You run your hands down his arms until you reach his wrists, which you lift gently, bringing his hands towards your chest. Eddie realises what’s about to happen, and quietly mutters,

“Oh, fuck…”

You guide his hands and his palms are hot as you place them over your flesh, and the heat between your bodies increases as Eddie huffs out an open-mouthed,

“Haaaaaaah.”

His eyes are fixed on your breasts, and he seems momentarily frozen in place. He swallows again, but before you can offer words of encouragement his eyes flick up to yours, an almost pleading look on his face. You nod carefully, slowly, hoping to convey your meaning: go ahead.

You’re successful, and you moan with delight as Eddie’s gaze drops again and he begins to squeeze and mould your heaving bosom like he wants to memorise every curve, every feature. He pushes them together slightly, then up, then apart, all the while massaging them gently with his palms and fingertips. At one point he accidentally grazes your slowly hardening nipples, and it causes both of you to let out startled whines.

He’s humming involuntarily, and more than once you feel his hips roll upwards, positioning the substantial tent in his boxers closer to where you need him. You drift your eyes up towards his pillows as you ask,

“Shall we… get a little more comfortable?”

His nod is swift and it bounces his curls as he immediately begins to shift position. You stand as he shuffles to the centre of his bed and flops down, his hair splaying out over his pillow and his hands clutching mindlessly at the comforter, perhaps to ground himself.

You manoeuvre so your thighs are astride his, your naked cunt not quite touching him and shielded only by the drape of your skirt. You wonder whether Eddie might be catching the scent of your arousal. He’s staring at your chest again, and you surmise he’s got a better view now, with more space between you and the light from the window illuminating you from the side.

His eyes rove your form, and you can’t wait to see what happens when he views a real pair of actual tits for the first time. Locking your gaze on his face, you reach behind you and unfasten your bra. The small jolt as you undo the clasp makes Eddie jump slightly, and his eyes flash up to your face, his eyes saying, is this really happening?

You cover yourself with one arm and slowly slip the straps of your bra off your shoulders before performing a dramatic reveal, dropping the lace to your lap and then sweeping the flimsy garment off the bed and onto the floor.

Eddie’s eyes widen to the point where you think they might leave his skull, and his jaw drops and retracts a couple of times. A strangled sort of noise leaves his throat, and it sounds a little like he’s being gently choked. You check in with him.

“Eddie? Are you okay? Are you… still breathing?”

He inhales, loudly. Nope, he’d definitely stopped breathing. His arms lift a little and his hands hover over the bedsheets. His eyes haven’t left your chest, and you let him know that whatever he wants to do, you’re okay with.

“You can touch them, if you want?”

Eddie huffs out a long exhale, and the warmth of his breath fanning over your sensitive skin brings your nipples to hardened peaks. His fingertips tentatively brush at the sides of your breasts as his thumbs trace the undersides. It’s like he’s examining a precious artifact, and it’s the most reverence anyone’s ever shown your tits, or any part of you. You hear yourself gasp as your centre spasms.

This gives Eddie a little confidence, and he moves to cup your flesh in his hands, his fingers squeezing lightly. This time though, he’s looking at your face, assessing your reaction, seeing how he’s doing. You very much appreciate that he’s ensuring he’s not hurting you, or making an ass of himself, but it’s actually quite the opposite. You let out a tiny moan, and gift him with a louder one when the pads of his thumbs graze your peaked nipples. He does it again, with more intent. The combination of the roughness and heat of his skin feels wonderful.

Unbidden, he brings his forefingers and thumbs together on one side, and pinches lightly. Your abrupt groan surprises both of you, but in a delightful way. He does it again, to both nipples this time, and you groan again as your belly clenches and you involuntarily roll your hips over his thighs, the heat in your core intensifying. 

You let him play for a while, enjoying how he moans and swallows and moulds your flesh. His hands feel so good you’re reluctant to pull them away, but eventually you do, softly placing his arms beside him on the bed as you murmur,

“It’s my turn to touch you now.”

His nervous expression quickly dissipates as you gently lay your hands onto his chest. He’s so beautiful, like an alabaster statue, and he’s warm and responsive to your touch. You run your hands lightly all over his torso, tracing the planes, dips and curves of his musculature, and the designs of his tattoos. It’s simple, almost reverential, though the increased heat in your centre and the breaths stuttering beneath the pretty pink bloom flushing over Eddie’s skin suggest your touch is anything but holy.

There’s something you’ve been wanting to investigate for what feels like a very long time, and you’re delighted that you’ve finally got the opportunity. You run your palms over Eddie’s chest again, but this time allowing your fingertips to skim over his nipples. 

He twitches beneath you, almost flinching at the sensation, but from the gasp he inhales and holds you don’t think this was from discomfort. You repeat the action. His flesh feels soft and velvety, and they’re smaller than yours, but seemingly just as sensitive, and you hear him whimper as they peak beneath your touch. You had no idea a guy’s nipples could react like this, your previous partners never giving them any consideration or allowing you to explore like this. Eddie’s stuttering breaths and the way he’s trembling make you think they were missing out on something really special.

You draw tiny circles around each nipple with the pads of your forefingers, and you feel the bedsheets shift under you as Eddie grips them in his fists. Bravely, you experiment, and you move your thumbs to join your fingers, Eddie’s flesh between them. With the lightest amount of pressure you pinch, just a little, and release quickly.

Something guttural leaves Eddie’s chest, and his breath comes out in a rush. Buoyed by this, you squeeze again, with more pressure and for longer, and this time Eddie’s groan is accompanied by an upwards buck of his hips into the empty air in front of yours.

This is new, and you like it very much. From the deepening pink tinge appearing across Eddie’s cheeks and torso, you think he’s liking it too. You squeeze once more, and release. Leaning forwards and sticking out your tongue, you lick at one of Eddie’s peaked buds before delicately clamping down with your teeth and sucking gently, moaning quietly at the sensation of his delicate flesh in your mouth.

Above you, Eddie splutters,

“Shit! Oh shit! Hnnn!”

Oh yeah, those other guys were definitely missing out.

You decide it’s time for him to experience yours up close too. You lean forwards, bracing your arms either side of his head, the swell of your tits now hovering above his face. His gaze flicks between them a few times before flashing up to yours. You give him a soft smile and nod your head, and he hums as he slides his hands up over your waist, up your sides and over the warm flesh again. 

He moulds them in his hands, making you moan, and to make it all the more obvious what you want him to do you shift so one of your nipples is positioned directly above his mouth. He takes the hint and flicks out his tongue, just grazing your peaked bud at first before gaining in confidence and taking it fully into his mouth, sucking gently at first and then flicking his tongue over it.

You feel a jolt head from your nipple up to your jaw that ignites the entire side of your face with static electricity as another journeys to your core. You let out an involuntary groan, and, buoyed by this, Eddie suckles harder, simultaneously running his thumb over your other nipple. You moan again, your hips rolling over his thighs in search of friction. Shifting beneath you, he pops off one breast and latches on to the other, giving it equal attention and, daringly, pinching the first between his fingers. It’s intense, and glorious, and that electric spark is back, heading directly between your thighs. This is definitely something that’s never happened before.

He unlatches, and you’re a gasping, breathy mess as you move down to kiss him. He lunges up a few centimetres to meet you, and as you deepen the kiss your nipples brush against his chest. He whimpers, and grabs the back of your neck with one hand and between your shoulder blades with the other, pulling you down so your chests meet. You drop your elbows down onto the mattress to get closer to him, and rake your hands through his hair, grasping it and pulling at the roots gently as your hands ball into fists.

There’s no more reverence or holding back now, and your kiss is messy, wet and noisy as Eddie holds you to him, squeezing you together and shoving his tongue seemingly as far down your throat as he can. Your tits are squashed between you, and the pressure of his heated chest against yours is divine. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever done, and you can’t quite believe you’re having this effect on each other. You feel the stiff length of him pressing into your abdomen, and he feels so, so ready for this.

You hum as you kiss him for a while longer, feeling his length kick up between you and the dampness between your legs increase. You break the kiss and sit up, smirking at Eddie’s blissed out face and reddened, kiss-bitten lips. Watching him watch you, you open the side fastening of your skirt and peel it off, discarding it to one side, leaving you fully bare on top of him. His face is almost unreadable, such a mixture of emotions passing over it, but you think he might be a combination of reverent, horny and amazed.

You move yourself further up his thighs, finally settling your hips flush across his, settling down close to the substantial wet patch that’s been made by his leaking tip. Your naked centre sticks to the damp fabric as you drag it across his boxer-covered crotch. Ordinarily you’d be embarrassed at making a mess, but something tells you Eddie won’t care.

You were right. There’s no resistance from him, and he groans beneath you as you feel his hefty bulge press against your folds. His hands grip the bedsheets again as he mumbles out in a low breath,

“Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

His tone and his words only get you wetter, and you can’t help but roll your hips slightly over him, earning you another groan.

You don’t want to waste your slick on this fabric, and rise up onto your knees. With a playful snap of his waistband, you urge,

“Take these off.”

Eddie shuffles beneath you as quickly as he’s able, There’s the rustle of cotton and you look down in time to witness the slap of his hard member against his stomach. His cock’s flushed a deep pink, almost magenta, is more swollen than you’ve ever seen it, and is already drenched and glistening with precum. It smears across his happy trail as he shifts until, moments later, he’s naked beneath you. 

Still kneeling up, your cunt hovers over his bare form. His eyes scan your whole body, from your eyes to your tits, all over your torso, the soft hair covering your cunt, back up to your eyes again. Bravely, you think, he places his hands on your thighs, and you feel them tremble a little as he rubs and strokes gently. 

Slowly, you lower your hips. You feel your pubic hair brush first, before your warm lips make contact with his shaft and your most personal areas touch for the first time.

Eddie’s brows furrow as the slick warmth of you settles onto him, and his abs tense as he breathes out, low,

“Oh, shiiiiit.”

You’re both still for a beat before you brace yourself, palms placed flat on his chest, and begin to rock your hips, just gently, getting you both used to the sensation of having him pressed against your folds. His cock is hard, yet warm and soft, and Eddie huffs out heated breaths through his nose as you slide yourself along him. His hips start to subtly cant beneath you. By the tense look on his face you think it might be involuntary, that he’s holding himself back. 

You move for a little while before one particularly exquisite movement allows his cock to slip between your folds, and his swollen tip unexpectedly nudges your clit. You gasp and curl in on yourself, involuntarily closing your eyes and clenching your fingers, letting out a soft whine. 

Below you, Eddie makes a strangled hnnng sound before his breath hitches and he inhales quickly, his grip on your thighs tightening. 

Worried there’s something wrong, your eyes flash open. You’re relieved to see Eddie seems to be okay, though his eyes are blown even darker and his jaw is softly parted. You glance down at your hands on his chest, and notice a collection of angry-looking red lines where your nails have dug into his flesh. Horrified, you stammer,

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

Echoing your words from your second lesson, he smirks, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip, and he bounces his eyebrows as he admits,

“It’s okay, I kinda liked it.”

Smiling, you lift your hands to his pecs and lightly drag the nails of your pointer fingers further down his chest and ribs, down to his abs. Eddie moans again, and his hips roll upwards, his cockhead nudging your clit with more pressure and causing you to whine along with him.

Fuck, this feels so good, and he’s not even inside of you yet…

You don’t know how Eddie’s doing, but you can’t take much more of this. Feeling that it’s definitely time for his final lesson, you sit up, resting your palms gently on his belly. You’re feeling really good, but also nervous, which you know makes you verbose, and you can’t help but babble out too many options. 

“Okay, so, I’m more than happy for us to go all the way right now. But if that’s not something you want I’m obviously totally fine with that too. But… Shit. I guess I’m asking, do you still wanna… I mean, how far do you wanna go, really, with me?”

Eddie’s eyes search yours earnestly, and the gentleness of his reply instantly soothes your frayed nerves.

“I want it, Princess. I want to do it… all. With you.”

You smile warmly down at him. It’s the best response you could’ve had. He swallows before gesturing to his nightstand.

“Should I, uh… Should we…?”

You realise he’s asking if he should get a condom, and you’re grateful for his thoughtfulness. But you’ve been considering this, and you have an alternative suggestion. 

“Well… I’m on birth control for a period thing, and I'm pretty sure I’m clean because I’ve never not used a condom. I know you’re clean because, well, y’know. So… if you’re okay with it, we could, uh, do it without?”

He’s looking up at you, wide-eyed and mouth agape. All he can manage is a tiny, squeaked,

“Holy f—. P— please.”

Again, it’s the perfect reply. You’re still slightly incredulous that he’s trusting you to be his first, but you’re also excited to take on such a responsibility. You calm your breathing before kneeling up a little, glancing down and reaching between your legs to take ahold of him. You already knew he has the most exquisite cock you’ve ever encountered, and it somehow looks even more beautiful right now. You grasp him reverently, angling him upwards and dragging him through your folds to gather more of your slick. 

He’s hot and solid in your hand, and flashbacks of everything you’ve done so far flood your mind. Touching yourself as he watched, taking him into your mouth, getting each other off over the phone, your first kiss... It‘s all combined to lead you to this exquisite moment. 

Eddie sighs lightly and lets out a nervous hum, and then both of you hold your breath. You lower yourself a tiny amount, and his tip pushes in a little further as you notch him between your folds. He gasps. You lean over him, and stabilise yourself with your hands either side of his head.

“You ready?”

Eddie’s voice wobbles as he confirms,

“Fuck, yes, Princess. Please f-fuck me.” 

You take a steadying breath, and, keeping your eyes fixed on his, you begin to lower further. His fat head breaches you, and you bite your lip as you feel the stretch of him for the first time. Slowly, so slowly, you slide down, inch by delicious inch. You’re so wet he glides into you easily, although the size of him is something you’ll need to get used to. You relish the sensation of him stretching out your walls as they slowly envelop him.

You pause, and Eddie mumbles your name, barely audible, the hot huff of air filling what little space there is between you. It sounds like a prayer, or perhaps a spell. There’s a moment of silence and absolute stillness, yet it’s weighted, the implications heavy in the humid space between you. You both know how much this means, how things will never be as they were, especially for Eddie. As you slide lower, letting him fill you, his jaw drops further, and his grip on your thighs grows stronger. You sink down until he’s plunged completely inside your warmth, and immerse yourself in the way you’re accommodating him. Your hips finally connect with his, and as you seat him fully inside you already feel him nudging against that spot that he so deftly located earlier. You mumble out a stilted,

“Oh, god.”

It’s followed by a long, deep sigh from Eddie as he mutters,

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck— Ooooooooh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuccckkk!”

He’s closed his eyes, and you can feel the tips of his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. You enjoy the moment, savouring how he looks, how he feels. His hair splays out around him on his pillow like a chestnut halo, and his head is tilted back, exposing his broad, thick throat. His eyes flash open again and fix on yours; wide, dark mahogany pools that are somehow simultaneously a million miles away and boring into your very soul. His mouth hangs open in awe, shallow, trembling breaths emanating from his throat. He looks like an angel. 

He strokes your thighs for a moment before his large hands move to settle lightly on your hips. Placing your hands over the backs of his, you stay seated, tilting your hips ever so slightly to push down even deeper onto him. He practically growls,

“Fuck, Princess. You feel so fucking good.”

The growling nature of his voice sends an electric heat straight to your core, and the stretch you feel quickly morphs into a fiery need. You gaze into Eddie’s chocolate orbs as you warn him, 

“I’m gonna move now, okay?”

He swallows in preparation, and you brace your hands on his lower ribs. You tilt your hips, rolling them. It angles him differently inside you, his swollen head hitting harder exactly where you need it. It also brushes your clit against the dark, glossy hair at his base, and your walls spasm as a low moan leaves your chest and you feel Eddie’s cock kick up in response. He mumbles, voice low and lasciviously gravelly,

“Do that again.”

So you do, again and again. You find a rhythm, slow but satisfying as you rock back and forth. Eddie’s jaw drops open again and his lips form a soft ‘o’ as you move above him.

It occurs to you that everything feels subtly different. Of course, you’ve never been treated with such care before, never been brought to a point of such arousal, plus you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want Eddie in this moment. But you swear you can feel the flared edge of his cockhead as it drags against your walls, and every ridge and vein as you move atop him. You’d never previously considered how a lack of barrier might affect things, it always being a hard boundary for you, despite whining and cajoling from previous partners. You’d assumed it was mostly a ‘guy thing’, and you had no idea how it could affect your pleasure. But it’s abundantly obvious now. 

Eddie's lips are pursed, and his grip on your thighs intensifies again as you watch the muscles of his abdomen subtly tense. Perhaps it’s time he became a bit more… involved. You’re sure he can take it, and you know he won’t hurt you.

“You can move too, Eddie. Just do what feels good.”

He‘s tentative at first, tilting his pelvis subtly and pushing up into you with such care, as if he might hurt you, or something might break. It’s incredible, the small movements feel so good, and somehow more intimate and passionate than anything you’ve done with anyone else. You reward him with soft sighs and moans in time with his movements.

Gaining confidence, he begins to move faster, pulling out further and thrusting back in with more vigour. When you join him, moving and rolling your pelvis with larger movements in time with his, your breath coming out in increasingly loud rhythmic gasps and moans, his breathing quickens, his whole body flushes, and you can't help but close your eyes and drop your head back in ecstasy until Eddie’s hands clamp onto your hips and—

“Ohmygod, ooohmyGOD.”

He’s suddenly still.

You open your eyes to check in on him, and see Eddie’s screwed up face, his eyes and mouth twisted shut, his cheeks even redder than before.

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

He babbles, quickly,

“Don’t move Princess, pleasejustdontfuckinmove. This is fuckin’ amazing and I don’t wanna ruin it!”

You want to reassure him that everything he’s doing is perfect.

“I’m close too. It doesn't matter how long this lasts, just that we both enjoy it. And I’m really, really enjoying it. Please, keep moving, Eddie. For me?"

From his beautifully wide eyes and flushed face, this definitely isn’t going to last very much longer, but you mean it, you don’t care. You’re still puffy and sensitive from his earlier ministrations, and you know it won’t be long before you fall apart all over him. You both begin to move again, quickly rebuilding a rhythm. The soft thrusts of his hips keep perfect time with the subtle rolls of yours, the lewd sounds of your mingling juices only adding to your mutual enjoyment. 

Eddie lets out little uhs and ahs in time with your movements and you adore that you’re having such an effect on him. After a particularly deep thrust followed by a vociferous grunt, he grits out, through clenched teeth,

“Does it— Christ— Does it always feel this good?”

You reply, truthfully,

“Honestly? It’s never been this good.”

He stutters out a high-pitched chuckle as he confirms,

“Holy shit, I’m in fucking heaven!”

You lunge forwards to kiss him again, brushing your nipples against his chest as you slip your tongue between his eager lips. Once again Eddie’s hand grips the back of your head and he moans loudly as his tongue plunges into your mouth. You feel the warmth of a broad palm against your lower back as he pulls you flush with his chest. The shift in position arches your back, subtly changing the angle and spreading your centre even further. 

All too soon, Eddie’s thrusts become faster and less controlled, and you match his pace, rolling your hips and pushing down onto him with increased vigour. You break apart and move up just enough so he’s in focus, wanting to see him at this perfect moment. His eyes are glazed and seem to only be half-focussing on yours, and there's a tell-tale furrow in his brow. You wonder aloud,

“You gonna cum? I wanna feel you. Let go, please.”

His hips seem to take on a life of their own now he’s not holding back. His thrusts become more fervent, and his swollen member pummels that spot inside you. You feel his pelvis slam against your clit with every stroke, and your own release careens towards you, spots of light beginning to appear in your vision and the warmth in your core reaching a heated crescendo.

With a deep, rumbling groan, easily the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard, his final thrust pushes him even deeper and his cock begins to pulse inside you. You’ve never felt anyone’s release before, and the divine sensation makes you jam your hips down, triggering your own release, and you throw your head back in ecstasy, emitting a disjointed high-pitched whine. There's more low moans from Eddie as you clench around his still-pulsing member, and you barely register the bruising grip as he digs his fingertips into your hips. 

Eventually your movements still and, spent, you pitch forward on failing arms and collapse onto his chest, breathing heavily into the crook of his neck. After a moment he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and nuzzling into your hairline.

There’s a minute of stillness, and you revel in the post-orgasmic haze. Your cunt spasms with aftershocks, eliciting contented hums from deep within Eddie’s chest. You’re warm, satisfied and feel cosy and safe with his arms wrapped around you, and you wonder whether he’s feeling the same. You hum into his skin as he traces one hand over your shoulders and back. It’s bliss.

Eventually, Eddie chuckles lightly as he mutters,

“Fuck, Princess. That was… I, um… Fuck.”

He snorts a truncated laugh, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his curls bouncing on the pillow as his head shifts to look at you. All you can manage is a dopey grin as you reply,

“Yeah. Fuck.”

You chuckle in unison, shifting until your noses touch, both tilting your chins until your lips connect in a series of soft pecks.

You’re a little nervous to ask, but something in you has to know.

“How did it feel? Fucking for the first time?”

“Shit, it was goddamn heaven, I swear! Although technically, I think you did most of the actual fucking.”

“Oh no, you did absolutely your fair share! But we can change that, if you’d like. Are you up for doing most of the fucking another time?”

Eddie’s eyebrows snap up his forehead and he looks straight at you with surprise, and just a little disbelief. 

“You, uh, want there to be a next time…?”

You roll your lips together and consider your words carefully before replying. He really has no idea how good this was for you, or that he’s already so much better than literally every guy you’ve ever slept with. But you don’t want to stroke his ego too much, at least, not just yet. You hum and fake a look of disinterest.

“Well, I guess I could make time in my schedule, to, y’know, give you a few more lessons. Purely for your benefit, of course.”

His jaw drops in faux shock.

“Hey, I know I’m not exactly an expert, but if I’m reading this right you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

You can’t keep a straight face and burst into giggles, and Eddie follows you, his fingers snaking to your waist and easily finding your ticklish spots. You huff and wriggle, but make no real attempt to disengage yourself from his grasp. If anything, you end up more entangled, and from the contented sounds that emanate from you both, it’s not something either of you mind.

You lay together for a few moments, enjoying the peace and your shared heat. But eventually your hips start to ache, and with a groan of discomfort, and more than a little reluctance, you slowly start to move. His mostly-soft cock slips out easily, and as you roll off of him you feel your combined juices run out of you, dribbling over his abdomen and coating the inside of your thighs.

You sigh as you wriggle yourself into the crook of his arm, and lay your palm on his chest, tracing lazily up and down with your fingers.

You figure Eddie must feel the cooling stickiness, because he starts to move and asks,

“Umm… Do I— Uh… Should I…? D’you need anything?”

You keep it simple.

“Umm, something to clean up with would be nice. And could I, maybe, get some water?”

The mere fact that he’s asked the question already puts him leagues above others, but you’re briefly concerned that Eddie will see this as annoying, or demanding. To your relief, he seems entirely unfazed. 

“Sure thing. You get comfy here and I’ll just be a minute.”

He wriggles sideways and backs off the bed, his beautiful grin lighting up his glowing face. His hair’s a dishevelled mess, his torso is still tinged pink and the scratches you left on his chest are an angry red, but you’ve never seen anyone so beautiful. Unable to break your gaze, he doesn’t turn until he’s already partly through the doorway. It’s sweet, and lovely, but as he leaves you’re almost sad that he didn’t turn sooner, as you’re treated to the glorious sight of his pert, peachy butt bouncing slightly as he leaves the room.

You swallow, thinking that’s a sight you could definitely get used to, but then chide yourself. He’s obviously happy to do this again, but you have no idea whether he’s… feeling the same way you are. But at that moment you make a decision - you’re absolutely going to broach the subject before you leave. Definitely. 

Probably. 

Maybe...

There’s the sound of running water and minutes later Eddie returns with a warm, damp washcloth and a small towel, and promptly disappears again. You clean yourself up as best you can and then take him at his word and get comfy, wrapping yourself up in his sheets before rolling onto your side and perusing the myriad objects atop his nightstand. There’s a full ashtray, loose keys, a lighter, a couple of rings, an empty pretzel tube, rolling papers, a creased music magazine and a lot of dust. A battered copy of a Tolkien novel catches your eye, and you pick it up and start to flip through it. There’s folded corners and pages marked with scraps of paper, notes and doodles in the margins and words written in runes in Eddie’s messy scrawl. You imagine it must be one of his most treasured possessions.

Just as you’re halfway through deciphering a short runic message, Eddie enters with snacks clasped in his hands and between his teeth. There's water, cold soda, pretzels, potato chips, a bowl with a few grapes in it, and half a bar of chocolate. His soft, but still pretty, cock swings with abandon as he heads towards you and dumps his haul onto the bed in front of you.

It’s all perfect. He’s perfect…

As the final packet leaves his mouth he spots what you have in your hand.

“I brought snacks too, I hope that’s okay. Whatcha got there, Princess?”

You drop the paperback like it’s burned you, blustering,

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“That’s alright, you can look. There’s nothing incriminating in there. Not gonna tell you where that stuff is, mind you."

He pulls a comical face as he flops down onto the bed, the old springs squeaking in protest, and you giggle, thinking about your journal and wondering whether he does indeed have any similarly incriminating stuff anywhere, as you admit,

“I read The Hobbit once. I liked it, but I found the other books too heavy going. Is that awful? Are you gonna throw me out now?”

You wince and add a deliberately over-expansive pout. Eddie’s hair shakes wildly as he responds emphatically,

“Oh, god no! You’d have to do a lot worse than that for me to ever let you go…”

You think he’s just being funny, but then his eyes soften suddenly, and you wonder whether, deep down, he actually means that. Your tummy flutters at the thought. But before you can dwell, his face brightens, and, breaking your thought process, he continues excitedly,

“Maybe I could read them to you sometime? I could explain it as I go. And I promise to skip any really dull parts.”

You smile and nod eagerly in agreement, imagining lazy days spent cuddling with Eddie reading aloud to you as you play with his hair and memorise his tattoos. You can’t pass this moment up, you have to say something. And, in just a minute, you will. You’re almost certain of it.

You sit up and lean back against the wall, and Eddie joins you, pulling his sheets and comforter around you both. You lean in close as you snack on your impromptu and welcome picnic, sometimes feeding each other small morsels, and he makes you giggle as he kisses crumbs from the side of your mouth and fake-bites your fingers. 

Food devoured, you snuggle against him with his arm slung around your shoulders. You bring a finger up to trace his ink, and he hums contentedly as you run your fingertips through his soft chest hair again. 

Okay, girl. Just do it.

Gathering yourself, you take a deep breath, holding it for far too long before the words tumble out of you.

“I’ve really enjoyed this, Eddie. Not just, y’know, this, but also the tutoring, and getting to know you. Shit, I’m probably messing this up so bad. I guess what I’m trying to say is… and I don’t know how you’d feel about this, but… we could carry this on. Properly. If— you wanted to.” 

Eddie stares at you for a moment, before he stammers, 

“We— we could?”  

A goofy smile appears on his face.

Bolstered, you gather your nerve and continue,

“And… I could be more than just your tutor. If you wanted me to be?”

Eddie replies, with a little trepidation, 

“Are you serious? You’d wanna be more than, y’know, this?” 

He gesticulates over both of your pelvises.

“Yeah. I was thinking… Fuck, I hope this isn’t too much. Will you tell me if this is too much? I thought… If you like… I could even, maybe… be your girlfriend?”

Eddie inhales quickly and his chest puffs, you hope with joy, but fucking hell you hope you haven’t overstepped and it’s actually horror.

“If I’d like? Shit, I would absolutely like that. Very, very much...”

He brings one hand up to stroke the side of your head, and then runs it lightly down over your shoulder and the side of your arm. He places a firm, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back, smiling.

You stare into each other’s eyes, the gravity of the moment not lost on either of you. The nervous pit in your stomach is completely dissolved by a warm, honeyed sensation, as you slowly process that Eddie said yes, and that you’ve just snagged yourself the cutest, sweetest, sexiest boyfriend ever. 

You lean in, capturing Eddie’s plush lips in another chaste but oh-so-meaningful kiss. He presses forward to kiss you back, relaxing and heaving out a low sigh before his lips quirk into a devious-looking smirk, failing to hide his mischievous tone as he asks,

“I do have one question. If you’re my girlfriend now, do I still have to wait a whole week before we can do this again?”

You snort at his silliness.

“No, Eddie, you definitely don’t. In fact, what are you doing this weekend? Would you like to come over to my place? I’ve got plenty of ideas for more lessons, and I’m sure there’s lots we can teach each other.”

Eddie growls playfully before enthusiastically agreeing, prying excitedly for details like dates and times and possible activities. Although he seems more than fine with your company, you don’t want to push things too far or outstay your welcome, so when you glance at his bedside clock and see that it’s already way past the time you’d usually leave you turn to him with a resigned huff.

Eddie responds, 

“It’s that time already?”

You give him a glum little nod, and he continues,

“Do you really have to go? I mean, couldn’t you stay a little longer? I’d really like that.”

Smiling, you nuzzle in closer to him. 

“I was kinda hoping you’d say that boyfriend.”

In a surprising display of both strength and newly-found confidence, Eddie pushes your shoulder and flips you onto your back, scattering the empty packets and bowls across the bed and onto the floor. His pretty curls frame his face and tickle your cheeks as he looms over you, and his burgeoning erection feels hot as he presses it into the crease of your thigh.

He leans down, and his beautiful nose brushes yours as he murmurs,

“You know these lessons you’re talking about, Princess. How about we start right now?”

You hum into the kiss he plants on your lips and roll your hips upwards into him, making him moan. But before this particular lesson can go any further, you’re both disturbed by the sounds of the trailer door loudly opening and closing, and the rustle of fabric as someone removes what sounds like a heavy coat.

You and Eddie freeze, eyes wide and locked on each other's. 

“Oh shit, it’s my uncle!”

You gasp, and then both frantically sit up and scramble off the bed to get dressed, nervously giggling and flinging each other’s clothing across the room.

You’re almost done, and in record time too. But as you bend to retrieve a sock, Eddie's treated to the sight of your skirt lifting, revealing your bare cunt, a little of his spend leaking out of you. He’s momentarily struck dumb, and his jaw drops. But another noise outside snaps him back to reality. Stuttering, he mumbles,

“You don’t have any… uh…”

He waves a hand in the vague direction of your lower half, his cheeks reddening as he remembers what he did earlier on with your panties.

“It’s okay, Eddie. After that first time, I thought it would probably be a good idea to keep some spares in my bag.”

Standing, you wink at him. He pulls a thick lock of hair over his cheek, embarrassed, screwing up his eyes and realising he’s been completely and utterly caught. He tries to apologise, his words clipped,

“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

“You know, from anyone else I’d have found it creepy, but from you I find it oddly flattering.”

He grins widely, and is just about to pull you into an embrace when there’s another noise, a gravelly voice this time, 

“Is this paper yours, son? You didn’t steal this from another kid again, did’ya?”

Eddie looks slightly bashful for a moment but there’s no time to dither. It's time to face whoever’s out there. Eddie opens his door and leaves first, beckoning you encouragingly to follow him. Standing in the narrow hallway by the kitchen, you come face to face with Eddie’s uncle for the first time. He’s clutching Eddie’s test paper, and his deep frown, grizzled features and broad frame cut an imposing figure. When he eyes the pair of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. 

Eddie speaks first, and addresses his uncle, a little sarcastically,

“Yes, that is indeed my test paper. And I’ll thank you for not looking quite so surprised.” 

The big man’s brows furrow a little deeper, and you can’t tell whether it’s with consternation or amusement, as his gaze flicks between the two of you. Eddie clears his throat and introduces Wayne to you, and tells his uncle your name. You think that’s it, until he straightens up a little, and with a confidence you weren’t expecting he slips an arm around your shoulders. He grips you tightly before adding, with a little nod, as if he’s practicing the words and still convincing himself, 

“And, uh, she’s my girlfriend.”

Oh. You like how it sounds coming from his lips.

Wayne’s forehead crinkles as his bushy eyebrows raise, but before you have time to worry his face splits into a wide grin. He extends a work-grizzled hand and shakes yours powerfully as he says, in a much lighter tone,

“Well, ain’t this the nicest news for this old soul to come home to. It’s a pleasure to meet you, darlin’.”

His voice is warm and kind, and you believe it. Looking between you and his nephew, Wayne adds,

“Do we have the pleasure of your company this evening? You caught us at a good time, I’ve just been huntin’n’gatherin’.”

He gestures towards the kitchen area. You see full bags piled onto the counter, mac’n’cheese boxes, eggs and a few vegetables peeking from the tops, and realise it’s a dinner invitation. You gape a couple of times, far from expecting this level of domestic intimacy, and Eddie seems to pick up on it and answers for the both of you.

“Not tonight. I’m gonna drop this lovely lady back home, and then I’ll come help you chop veggies, ‘kay?”

He sweeps an arm wide, directing you towards his front door, and you pad over to collect the rest of your belongings, careful when you bend so as not to reveal your lack of underwear to anyone who wasn’t expecting it. You clasp Eddie’s divine drawing to your chest, handling it with especial care. Behind you, you hear the two men mutter-whispering, Wayne speaking first.

“Is this the tutor girl you’ve been talking about non-stop these last few weeks? You finally asked her out, huh?”

You can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds,

“Keep your voice down, old man. Um, that’s not exactly how it happened, but yeah, that’s her.”

Eddie looks over to you with a fond smile on his face as you pick up your backpack, and he comes over to you and helps you with your shoes before you leave ahead of him. The last thing you hear before the door closes behind you both is Wayne speaking once more.

“Good for you, son. It’s about damn time!”

Series masterlist General masterlist

Thank you so much for reading! (And for sticking with me through the longest update gap I think I’ve ever had, ILY 🙏💗) This completes our main ‘lessons’, but don’t fret - I have some more Extra Credits planned for these two 😉

If you liked this please, please like, comment and, especially, reblog - it’s the only way fics stay alive, and it means so much to writers to get your reactions and feedback, it’s what keeps us sharing our work 💗💋

“It’s that time already?” is a prompt from @promptsh20, it fitted so well with this section of the story I just had to include it 😊 The “It’s never been this good” lines are adapted from a film, the name of which I’ve now forgotten 🙈, and the “Do that again” was inspired by a Ryan Reynolds line in Green Lantern (if I can’t have him say it to me IRL I’m damn well gonna have Eddie do it in a fic 😛)

I proofed this as much as I could but my brain turned to mush, so if there are any errors or anyone grows an extra limb or something please tell me 🙏😅

Taglist part one: @airen256 @bimbotrashcan @urlbitchin @guiltyasquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @abellmunsonmovie @sheneedsrocknroll92 @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @wonderlanddreamer @leatherfaceologist @munson-blurbs @paradisepoisons @lokidokieokie @rcailleachcola @fckyeahlames @kurdtbean PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU CHANGE YOUR URL OR DON’T WANT TO BE INCLUDED ANYMORE

[captain-hawks]

yakuza!kuroo, 18+ (fingering, oral sex f!receiving)

it’s your wedding night, and kuroo is weak.

weak after months of watching you yearn for his affection, of watching your hopeful expression morph into something painfully resigned (it feels like a gash behind his ribcage).

he thinks back to the night he took your father aside. he didn’t even know you, yet he found himself pleading with your father not broker a deal with nohebi. not to marry you off to fucking daishou suguru.

“he’ll ruin her,” kuroo bit out, because he knows what happened to daishou’s last wife (he shudders at the memory of it).

the thought of another woman going through that makes him sick to his stomach.

“i have no other choice to keep her safe right now,” your father stared at him, blunt and unapologetic. “you know who i am, what that entails.”

marriage was such a foreign concept to kuroo at the time, he’d never considered it for any sort of arrangement, let alone out of love. and yet—

“i’ll marry her.”

your father had warned him not to get attached. the engagement, the marriage—it’s all meant to be temporary. until things in tokyo cool down or your father decides to whisk you off somewhere else entirely.

you’re with kuroo for nekoma’s protection.

you don’t know this, of course. that kuroo’s been keeping you at arm’s length because he doesn’t want to hurt you when this charade crumbles. it’s better for you to hate him from the start.

(and really, he doesn’t trust himself to be able to let you go back to your father once he’s truly had you. once you’re really his.)

but it’s your wedding night.

and kuroo tetsurou has become a weak, weak man.

(weak for you.)

“do you want help?”

kuroo pauses in front of your bedroom, door left slightly ajar, gaze falling to where you’re currently struggling to undo the straps of your heels.

you blink at him several times, and he can’t blame you for being surprised. he’s never set foot in your bedroom, after all (not counting the night he brought you home after you were abducted—when he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you as he carried you in his arms to your bed).

but you eventually nod, collapsing back onto your mattress in a huff.

you changed into a short, thin, white silky dress for the latter half of the evening, one that’s been mercilessly eating away at the frayed edges of kuroo’s wavering self-control. and now your pretty, smooth thighs are on full display as the skirt unapologetically rides up with the position that you’re in.

kuroo inhales slowly before coming to kneel between your legs, trying not to revel in the way he feels you immediately react to the feeling of his hands wrapping around your ankles.

he doesn’t mean to do it, doesn’t mean to run the pad of his thumb over the arch of your foot (doesn’t mean to forget to breathe as he listens to your answering sharp intake of breath).

but kuroo is weak, weak for you. weak for his wife.

and when his heat of his lips finds your ankle, he can’t bring himself to care about anything else but the way you whimper his name.

“kuroo.”

he glances up at you, finds you sitting up halfway on your elbows staring at him with an expression that has his pants tightening almost painfully against the swell of his cock.

“i think we can agree it’s tetsurou now, no?” he asks before leaning back in to press a longer, hotter open-mouthed kiss to your knee.

your fingers bunch in the sheets.

“tetsurou,” you gasp.

kuroo feels something zip down his spine at the sound of those syllables dancing off of your tongue. and it’s a little terrifying, the sudden free fall he finds himself in—this near-loss of control.

because in this moment, kuroo knows he’d do anything to hear that sound again.

and he knows that despite all of the distance he’s wedged between the two of you, despite the fact that that this is supposed to be business and you were never really meant to be his—

kuroo knows now that if someone wants to take you away from him, they’re going to have to kill him first.

he wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you to the edge of the mattress, slowly sliding up the skirt of your dress as he greedily kisses his way up the inside of your thighs.

you’re so fucking sensitive beneath his touch he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

your panties are the same blood red shade as the tie he wore today. his cock aches at the revelation. he runs a careful finger over the lace, staring up at you from where he’s still kneeling between your spread legs.

“can i touch you?” he asks, voice a little hoarse.

you have to smother a laugh with your hand, borderline hysterical over the implication that there’s any universe where you’d deny him. kuroo fights the urge to palm his dick through his pants as you say “yes” and “please.”

the lace tickles his lips as kuroo mouths at your cunt through your panties, teasing you until the material’s wholly soaked through with his spit and your arousal as you unconsciously bury your fingers in his hair and beg him for more.

you loosen your grip when he stops sucking at your clothed pussy, eyes widening a little as you realize you were pulling his hair.

“sorry,” you breathe out.

kuroo grins, butting his head against your hovering hand, “no, i like it.”

hooking a finger in your panties and tugging them aside, he lets his teeth press into his lower lip as he stares at the messy slick dripping from your folds.

for him.

he swipes his thumb up and down the length of your slit, just barely skirting the swollen, waiting bundle of nerves at your apex.

“you’re so wet,” he murmurs, feeling the messy smear of precum steadily soaking into his pants while you buck your hips into his touch.

kuroo’s never had the pleasure of coming untouched.

but he thinks he could when he slides a finger into your soaking wet cunt and feels the way your creamy walls tighten around him.

he thinks that the sound of you moaning his name alone could milk his cock dry as he fucks you with one finger until you’re begging for two, pulling his hair and cupping his face in a desperate frenzy.

and then kuroo slides off your panties and buries his tongue in your cunt, and he feels just as gone as you sound and feel while you’re wildly bucking into his touch, choking out a sob as a wet spray squirts out of you while when he sends you tumbling over the edge of your climax.

(he groans against your pussy as he feels his cock finally twitching and pulsing hot and thick in his boxers.)

the two of you sit there for minutes afterward, you on the bed and him kneeling on the floor before you, both of you struggling to catch your breath. to make sense of what just happened.

and something inside of kuroo cracks open at the shuttered look of rejection that begins to sink across your face when he goes to stand up, takes a step away.

you don’t try to stop him.

but he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple as he murmurs, “i’m just getting a towel to clean you up.”

you look up at him, lips parting slightly in surprise.

“i’m not leaving,” he assures you, slowly stroking the curve of your jaw.

[allthemidnightmemories]

i had a revelation after s2ep7 of severance.

i am a firm believer in mark’s denial being his fatal flaw, and this ep revealed it’s a trait he’s ALWAYS had. like. when gemma asks what happens if the fertility treatments don’t work and the way he blasts right past that and says they will. the way he masks his denial as hope. and how hard it would be for gemma to see him holding on to something that could never happen and feeling like that was on her, even if he reassured her that wasn’t the case.

and just maybe, how that would drive her to do anything to make the impossible happen. because how can you face someone who won’t accept something that can never be?

anyways, it was fascinating to see that trait of mark’s play out and i’m also slightly devastated after that ep 💔

[johtoes]

♯┆𝐇𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ

╭────── · · ♰ · · ──────╮

synopsis: Sukuna, the King of Curses, despises everyone—except you. When he takes over Yuji’s body, he’s drawn to your gentle nature, a stark contrast to his cruelty. Despite his hatred, he finds himself protecting you, and for the first time, questioning his own desires.

pairing: Sukuna x f!reader

warnings: violence, dark themes, OOC Sukuna

word count: 1,240

╰────── · · ♰ · · ──────╯

Sukuna hated everyone.

It was a fact that he didn’t bother hiding, and those who dared cross his path soon learned just how deep that hatred ran. His arrogance, cruelty, and disdain for humanity made him a god in his own eyes, a being beyond the pitiful existence of mortals. He had no patience for their weakness, their fear, their petty desires. He reveled in their suffering, and the thought of anything less than absolute control made him itch with irritation.

But there was something about her.

You were different. Soft, gentle, and impossibly kind, as though the world had placed a piece of purity in the middle of his chaos. You had no reason to be in his orbit. Yet, there you were, always in the way. And that infuriated him even more.

You weren’t a fighter. You didn’t seek violence or glory. You were just… there, always offering smiles and warmth, as though you could erase the darkness that hung over the world. You were a healer, a nurturer, someone who tended to those in need, regardless of the cost to yourself. And for some reason, you made Sukuna feel something he hadn’t felt in centuries: the urge to protect.

It infuriated him. He didn’t need anyone, especially not someone like you. Your kindness was a weakness, a flaw, and yet…

There was a strange draw, an itch deep in his core whenever he saw you. It was an annoyance, something that gnawed at his insides every time you looked at him with those soft, trusting eyes, as if he were someone worthy of kindness.

“Why are you still here?” Sukuna sneered as he stood over you, his cursed form towering over your small, fragile frame. His voice was sharp, filled with venom. “You should be running away from someone like me.”

But you didn’t run. You stood your ground, as always. You were the only person who never flinched around him, never backed down in fear. It made no sense to him.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you said softly, your gaze unwavering. “I know you’re capable of great things, Sukuna. But I believe there’s more to you than just the violence.”

His eyes narrowed, the golden gleam flickering in the depths of his gaze as he regarded you. “You’re a fool,” he muttered, but there was a strange flicker of something in his chest, something uncomfortable. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“No,” you agreed, “But I’m willing to learn.”

He snorted, turning away. He couldn’t even fathom why that statement made him pause. He didn’t want you to learn about him. He didn’t need anyone in his life who cared.

But when he took over Yuji’s body, when he entered the fray, the fight became different. There was a certain protectiveness that surged in him—an instinct, buried beneath layers of hatred and contempt. You were near. The cursed energy surged in his veins, but for once, it wasn’t for destruction.

“Stay back,” Sukuna growled, his voice slipping from Yuji’s form. “I’ll handle this.”

The fight was brutal, as usual. Curses screamed in agony as they were torn apart by his strength. He relished in the carnage, the blood, the chaos. But his eyes never strayed far from you. You were on the sidelines, as always, a healer, trying to keep others safe as they fought in your place.

The moment one of the curses made a move toward you, Sukuna’s body shifted, his energy pulsing like a weapon. Without thinking, without hesitation, he snapped his arm out, tearing through the air with a slash of cursed power that decimated the creature before it could even take a step in your direction.

You blinked, startled, but didn’t speak. You knew better than to ask questions in the middle of a fight. Still, his actions lingered in your mind. There was no logical explanation for why he’d done that. He didn’t care about anyone. Why would he care about you?

“Move aside,” Sukuna hissed through Yuji’s lips, eyes glaring at a group of cursed spirits. His tone was venomous, mocking, but when he spoke, you swore there was a thread of something more beneath it. Something raw. Something unspoken.

He didn’t want to admit it. But with every fight, every clash, you became harder to ignore. It was the way you stood in the face of danger, never backing down, always helping. The way you tended to Yuji’s wounds after he’d been used by Sukuna, the way you whispered encouragement to him even when Sukuna had taken full control. You spoke to Yuji like he was still there, like he still mattered.

And maybe, just maybe, part of him felt the same way. But he would never admit it.

“You should be grateful,” Sukuna said one night, as he watched you tending to injured students, your hands gentle despite the chaos surrounding you. “You’re lucky I don’t just destroy this pathetic little world you’re trying to protect.”

But you just smiled at him, as always, and it was maddening. “I don’t need your protection, Sukuna. I need you to help us, to see that there’s more to this than destruction.”

His expression darkened. “You’re so naïve,” he spat. “I don’t need to change, and I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anything.”

But you weren’t deterred. “I’m not offering pity. I’m offering understanding. And if you’d let me, I’d help you, too.”

He looked away, irritated, and yet something inside him trembled at the thought of your offer. Help? He didn’t need help. He was Sukuna, the King of Curses, and nothing would ever change that.

But the next time a battle raged and he took over Yuji’s body, something inside him shifted.

You were caught in the crossfire—an unexpected attack from one of the curses, fast and vicious. He felt the familiar flare of his anger as he saw you stumble, trying to protect the others, your delicate form caught in the chaos. He saw red.

Before he could stop himself, his body moved with an almost unnatural grace, his cursed power flaring out, wiping out the threat in a split second. He didn’t care about the victory or the bloodshed. All he could focus on was you.

You were unharmed, standing there, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in shock. For a fleeting moment, you looked at him like he was something other than a monster.

“I told you to stay back,” Sukuna said, his voice gruff, but there was a hint of something softer underneath. “You don’t belong here, human.”

But you didn’t flinch. Instead, you stepped forward, your expression soft, almost knowing. “And yet, I’m still here. And so are you.”

There was a long silence, a tension building between the two of you. Sukuna’s anger flared once more, but this time, it wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at himself.

“I don’t need you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I don’t need anyone.”

You just shook your head. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

It was then that Sukuna realized. He hated everything. But he didn’t hate you. And that frightened him more than anything else.

Maybe he’d never admit it. Maybe he’d never say the words aloud. But every time he fought, every time he protected you without meaning to, he was reminded of one simple fact:

You were the only one who could make him question everything.

[acynicalsweetheart]

HIII i love ur writing so much !!! if your requests are open (and if they arent, feel free to delete this ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა) may i request curly x fem reader who’s jimmy’s girlfriend, but like curly is head over heeellss for her?

if thats not your style, no worries! you can delete my request for any reason, but thank you so much if you write this!! >_< 😭💗

hai thanku very much anon ♡… sawry it took forever. this is awful omg i had no idea. what direction i wanted to take this in LOL. but here’s your head over HEELS sorry had to… anyway first non dead dove drabble yay

content warning: 18+, infidelity

“Curly, stooppp!” You draw between giggles, playfully slapping his awfully muscular yet plush arm. The kind of plush that makes you want to bite a chunk out of it. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Curly flashes you his blindingly white Hollywood smile, fingers tickling your side for the eleventh time in the past five minutes. 

Jimmy glares at Curly. Then at you. His gaze burns holes into your skull like it’s made of lasers. 

You blow a kiss to the scowling face across the couch. 

Frown deepening further than you’ve ever seen before, Jimmy pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need a drink.” 

“Okay, babe,” you speak to Jimmy’s back as he’s leaving the room, returning your attention to Curly to get your revenge by attacking his side for a change. 

His couch squeaks when he squirms away, chuckling and grabbing your wrists. Craning his neck, Curly chimes to the doorway. “Hey, get one for me too!” 

A groan can be heard all the way from the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Curly’s face brightens like he has a revelation, letting go of you to briefly search his pockets to pull out a small velvet box. It looks comically miniature in his hand when he holds it out. “I got this for you.”

“What’s that?” You ask confused and curious, ‘cause it very much looks like he might just propose to you. 

It opens sesame. 

“An anklet.” 

“Oh.” 

Well, thank God. Jimmy would’ve fucking shot Curly if it was a ring. 

“Here, let me…” Curly reaches for your feet, careful in the way he peels off your socks and it’s all oddly romantic. So romantic there’s a slight heartbeat beneath your panties. 

Jimmy would never do that for you and that’s why it’s so wrong. 

“There,” he closes the clasp after a good two minute fumble, adorning your ankle with gold that costs more than your boyfriend’s entire net worth. 

“Oh,” it’s so shiny you can’t help but to blink at it, “wow. You… could’ve just gotten me a bracelet or something, Curly, I mean—“

“I could’ve,” his gentle up-and-down caresses to your calves pause, quickly adding, “but who would’ve gotten you this?”

You both know the answer to that question. 

“It’s not that I—“ 

“Hey, next time, I’ll get you that bracelet.” He pulls out his phone, squinting at the screen as his fingers move. 

“It’s fine, Curly,” you tell him—not wanting to seem ungrateful, “this is more than enough.”

But he’s already typing in his credit card information on the Tiffany & Co website when you look over his shoulder. 

What are you supposed to do? Smack the phone out of his hold? It feels… nice to be appreciated. Jimmy’s never bought you anything—you’re the one buying shit for him. Including his black market drugs. 

“Jim’s not coming,” you note after a long moment of awkward silence, poking your head forward like he’s coming through the doorway any second. 

“I guess not.” Curly says, meeting your eye once you look back at him. 

Almost kind of scary, the tenderness in his gaze. Not like Jimmy’s wolfish one that says he wants to eat you alive. In the cannibal way. 

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Me?” You can’t help but to laugh out loud, it’s so sudden, and Jimmy’s your boyfriend and he doesn’t even think that. “No… no I—“

“You are!” Curly insists, making a motion with his hands towards you. “Doesn’t he tell you that? Doesn’t he…” he pauses again, voice lowering, “show you that?”

“Show me?” 

“Like this,” he leans in closer, like way in-your-personal-bubble type of closer, noses brushing against each other. Curly lifts your chin up like he’s about to do something forbidden. 

You were almost convinced it was a joke till he actually kissed you. 

“Oh!” Lightly pushing on his chest, you stare at him. “Curly, that’s… we can’t.” 

Fisting at Curly’s shirt to pull him closer, you kiss him back. Harder. 

“Stop it,” like you’re not the one sucking on his tongue, tracing the bulge in his pants with your toes. “He’ll kill us!” It’s a half-whisper, half-yell. 

“Nah, I know Jim.” Says Curly, who more than well knows that Jimmy would have both of your heads on each respective stick to then keep as decorations in his trailer, “trust me.”

“Well…” but Jimmy doesn’t seem to be coming back anytime soon—you know him well enough to assume that he’s most likely sulking by now. “Okay then.”

And so you let him lay you down on his couch the way Jimmy did your first time with him. Only Curly is a thousand times more gentle in comparison. You’re a bad person for thinking it, but you almost wish Curly was your first. 

You’re still desperately kissing when his hands trail up your thighs, creeping under the hem of your dress to pull down your panties. Curly gets them about halfway down when you hear the unthinkable and the unmistakable. 

The cock of a gun. 

Jimmy’s holding this pesky little revolver that he probably found in his mom’s bedside drawer—the same one she blew her brains out with—pointing it at Curly and you with an expression resembling a wild animal more than a human face. 

[alwayzadorbs]

I see what you're wearing

Summary: Lucifer's reactions to different articles of clothing on you, and his personal favorites.

Rating 18+ (poetic porn) pt. 1

Your Pajamas drive him wild, he loves to see you in your most comfortable, and natural element. He basks in your beauty, astounded how somebody like you could be so elegant. The way the fabric warps to your curves, outlining the silhouette of your enchanting body. You drew him in, like a moth to a flame, he couldn't stop himself from kissing you. He would drag you into his room for a restless night, he'll take it slow.

RAD uniform gives him the hots more than he'd admit, you somehow make the uniform more....alluring, captivating, and sensual. Even if you weren't doing anything to make the uniform revealing, his mind took his time undressing you. imaging the naughtiness of stripping your uniform off in the student council room before a meeting or after a test.

micro bikini Loves it, the allure of not being able to see your most private parts, but he doesn't think its very practical, he'll just tear it off in the heat of the moment. "If I find out you're dressing like this for any other demon, ill have to reprimand you." he'll say before pulling you in, he wont let you go until he's had enough.

his clothes, When he first saw you, The morning after you spent the night in his bed. He thought you were the most beautiful being he'd ever seen, especially now that you'd adorned your body in his clothing. He reveled in the fact you were wrapped in his scent, there's no doubt its his favorite way to see you.

your garter belt drove his eyes up. He started down, noticing your sock choice, long, black stockings. hugging your thighs perfectly, skin muffining at the top, meeting with the clip of the garter, a thin black line of fabric guiding his eyes up, before disappearing behind your skirt. He instantly thought about what you were wearing underneath your outfit, where your underwear matching your stockings and garterbelt? He had to know, pushing you inside his room, peeling your clothes away from your body to uncover the delicious sight of your underwear, black and chic.

scanty, Lucifer Loves to see you in the nude, scantily clad, if you will. He couldn't care less about your looks, they were hardly a priority when choosing you as his partner. However, this doesn't mean he won't care when presented with your body, He'd worship you, loving every nook and cranny, every indistinct "imperfection", but to him, there was no imperfection. Every piece, every fold or dip, He loved. He didn't just sexually enjoy your body, he loved it because it was you. Even if somebody looked exactly like you, he wouldn't love them, because they wouldn't be you. You were the only Human for him, and he hoped, that he was the only demon for you.

꧁🙟⎯✣⎯⎯⎯⚜⎯⎯⎯✣⎯🙜꧂

i apologize for not posting, also for a short post,, I write at night and I end up too tired by the time I remember to write again.. XD

[vyrulent]

"I'd like that." Chloe wasn't one to think one way or another about "magic" and magicians. Living in Los Angeles had brought about a ton of magic acts. She easily recalled watching those revelation shows that were must see TV back in the 90s.

"Nope... no," she told him, her blush still evident on her features. She was growing shy. She was allowing her true nature to surface. Chloe James was a flirt -- Chloe Decker couldn't flirt to save her life. "I'm okay. I don't need any descriptions. Feel free to let it just live in your own imagination."

They had sex, but the idea of hearing about his fantasies would certainly cross some sort of line. It would make them far more intimate.

"My first check is going to involve me going to Victoria's Secret for a new pair of those. Those are the best to wear with dresses," she said, hoping her words sounded far more casual. Deep inside, she wanted to scream in awkwardness. Chloe James was taking hold while Chloe Decker wanted to run and hide or say something extremely awkward.

There's a pause.

"Do you need more for anything today?"

He noticed her trying to catch the trick and fail, and it caused him to snicker slightly. So she liked to get to the bottom of things, figure out what made things tick. He admired that quality about her. Might make it more difficult to prove he was actually the Devil though. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Thank you. Maybe I'll teach it to you sometime," He said, tantalizingly holding that above her to keep her interest. If she wanted to get to the bottom of things, he'd let her. But he wouldn't make it easy on her either.

No matter how she tried to hide it, he caught that blush. Her body was honest, even if she wanted to hold herself back. He had promised her that he wouldn't cross that line again if she didn't want to. However, he didn't make a promise not to flirt with her relentlessly. And he planned to exploit that to the highest degree. She was immune to him. With others, he didn't have to try and win their attraction. But he did with her. And that was positively thrilling to him.

"You sure? I can be very...," He paused and gave her a once over, glancing down her body before meeting her eyes again, "....descriptive."

[satsugacafe]

I saw you were interested in doing question thingy for the characters and thought if I send in one.

A most to least for who's into breeding (mot to get preggo) but just filling up their lover? Between Ichigo, Ryuken, Jushiro, Shunsui, Byakuya and Kisuke, please?

A/N: Damn anon, what a question. You got my stomach flipping in excitement >.< Thank you for asking!

𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭

1. 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢 — The undisputed king of indulgence. The man, the myth, the legend. Nothing satisfies him more than thoroughly filling and feeling you clench around him while he spills inside. He’s playful about it too, murmuring in his lazy, honeyed voice about how good you feel wrapped around him, how he’s not stopping until he’s sure you’re stuffed full and leaking. He adores the slow, drawn-out ecstasy of release after release, pressing his cum deeper with his cock or even his fingers, ensuring you stay warm and filled long after he’s done.

2. 𝐈𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐨 — When he gets into it, he’s relentless. His stamina is absurd, and he gets addicted to the way you tremble, already full yet still taking more. He’s not as openly verbal about it at first, but when he’s truly lost in the moment, he growls out filthy, possessive things—how he loves the way you take him, how he doesn’t want a single drop to go to waste. He doesn't stop until he’s sure you feel every bit of him inside. Seeing you drip afterwards only fuels him to go again.

3. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 — I’m telling you, if he wasn’t sick, he’d be competing with Shunsui. This man has seven siblings. You CANNOT tell me that breeding doesn’t run through his veins? But alas, his illness marks him as 3rd. He may be the picture of gentlemanly restraint in public, but in private, he revels in it. He’s incredibly tender, praising you between soft kisses, stroking your trembling form as he murmurs about how good you feel. He doesn’t rush, taking his time to enjoy every moment, ensuring you’re completely satisfied before finally letting himself sink deep and spill inside, groaning at the blissful tightness.

4. 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 — Oh, he absolutely loves it, but he also enjoys teasing the hell out of you about it. There’s this annoying, smug, knowing grin every time he pulls out and watches his cum leak from you, making amused little comments about how messy you are. But that smirk drops when you clench around him, keeping his load inside—oh, that drives him feral. He’s all about experimenting, seeing how much you can take, and testing your limits, but he doesn’t have the same deep-seated need as the ones ranked above him. It’s more of a game to him, albeit one he thoroughly enjoys playing.

5. 𝐁𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐲𝐚 — Being in control, and filling you is something he takes pleasure in, but it’s not a necessity for him. If you request it, he’ll oblige, murmuring low commands about how you are to hold everything without spillage. He appreciates the aesthetic of it, watching his cum drip from your swollen entrance with a smouldering gaze. For him, it’s more about refinement—making sure you’re fully satisfied rather than indulging in raw, messy excess.

6. 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐞𝐧 — Of everyone here, he’s the most restrained. He doesn’t see the appeal in excessive indulgence, preferring efficiency over hedonism (like Shunsui). That doesn’t mean he never does it—if you enjoy it, he’ll ensure you’re filled, but it’s never his primary focus. He’s meticulous and doesn’t like mess. If anything, he’d rather keep things clean and controlled, though if pushed to his limit, he might surprise you with just how much he’s capable of giving.

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

[alewritesfics]

Bridging realities

ℑ𝔛. 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤....𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔡𝔤𝔢

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count:2.6k

Warnings: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst or none at all but happy ending, playful banter

A/n: jajsjksksjsjsksks, y'all probably know what happens next after this.....

⏮️                ⏸️                  ⏭️

The morning air of London was crisp, the kind of coolness that lingered after a storm, as though the world had not yet decided whether to embrace the warmth of spring or remain in the chill of winter. The streets, bathed in soft morning light, looked different today.

Perhaps it was because you felt different.

You had not meant to wander so far from the drawing room, but after arriving with Penelope, you found yourself hesitating before following her inside. She had come to visit Eloise, and while you were more than welcome in the Bridgerton home, something inside you made you stop at the threshold.

It was strange being in the Bridgerton home as you were partly– most of the reason, about why they weren’t making arrangements for a wedding right now.

You ran a hand along the carved wooden railing of the terrace, inhaling deeply, willing yourself to steel your nerves. It was foolish, really. You had nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of. And yet, the weight of unspoken words lingered in the air, suffocating you.

“You ran.”

You exhaled sharply, already rolling your eyes before you even turned around. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I did not—” But the words died on your lips the moment you saw him.

Anthony Bridgerton stood a few steps away, his presence just as commanding as ever. His dark eyes were unreadable, his posture stiff—guarded. He was dressed impeccably as always, but there was something weary about him, something frayed at the edges. You swallowed, heart thudding in your chest.Neither of you spoke at first.

Then, finally, he broke the silence. “You left before I could say anything,” he said carefully, as though measuring each word before it left his lips.

Your fingers curled at your sides. “There was nothing left to say, my lord.”

His jaw tensed. “Do not call me that.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Would you prefer Viscount Bridgerton, then?”

Anthony sighed, running a hand down his face. “Must we do this?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend as though none of it happened?”

You hesitated.

“That is not what I am doing,” you said, softer this time.

“Then tell me,” Anthony took a step forward, searching your face, “why are you here?”

You swallowed. “Penelope—”

“Penelope?” he echoed, incredulous.

“She came to see Eloise,” you explained, standing your ground, “and I… I had no choice but to accompany her.”

Anthony scoffed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” you bit out. “It makes no difference to me.”

Silence stretched between you once more, heavy and suffocating. Then—

“You know I cannot pursue this,” Anthony said, his voice clipped.

Your breath caught. He did not have to clarify what this was. You looked away, schooling your features. “Of course you cannot.”

“It would cause a scandal.”

“Naturally.”

“The ton—”

“Would revel in it,” you finished, a bitter smile playing on your lips. Anthony stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“You were the reason I did not propose to Edwina,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “It was your fault.” The accusation sliced through the air like a knife.

You felt your stomach drop. A sharp laugh escaped you—short and disbelieving. “My fault?”

Anthony did not waver. “You—” he exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “You distracted me. You made me question everything I had spent my entire life working towards.” You clenched your jaw, feeling something deep inside you crack.

“Do you think I wanted this?” you snapped, voice shaking. “Do you think I asked for any of this, Anthony?”

“You—”

“I was fine before you,” you cut him off, stepping forward. “I had a life, a future – well maybe not a well planned future but still!. And then you came along, and suddenly, I was drowning in feelings I never wanted in the first place.”

His nostrils flared. "And yet, you still let it happen.”

“You cannot blame me for your choices,” you hissed. “If you did not want me, you would have proposed to her regardless. But you didn’t.”

Anthony’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“You think this is easy for me?” he demanded.

“I think you have always been a coward,” you shot back.

His entire body tensed. “And you,” he said, voice dangerously quiet, “have always been reckless.”

“You do things without thinking,” Anthony continued, each word like a dagger. “You do not consider the consequences. You never have.”

Something inside you snapped. “And you,” you spat, “are incapable of feeling anything at all.” The words were out before you could stop them. For a moment, Anthony just stared at you. Then, his expression turned to one of pure anger.

He took a step forward, towering over you. “You truly believe that?”

You did not back down. “I know it.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened. “Then you are a fool.”

“Then we both are.”

Silence. Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.

You could feel the weight of his stare, the heat of his fury. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. And then, without another word, you turned on your heel—

"You're running again!"

Anthony’s voice rang out across the terrace, sharp and desperate, freezing you in place just as you reached the steps leading back to the house.Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you willed yourself to keep walking. To not turn around.But you did.

You turned, eyes burning with fury, with frustration—with something else that you refused to name. "And what if I am?" you challenged.

Anthony strode towards you, his entire frame tense, the fire in his eyes matching the one inside you. "I’m starting to see a pattern," he said, voice tight with restraint. "Every single time things become difficult, you run."

Your eyes flashed. "And what of you, my lord? You push people away before they even have the chance to hurt you. That is not strength, Anthony. That is cowardice."

Anthony flinched as though you had struck him.For a moment, you thought he would lash out, that he would throw more cruel words your way just to wound you in return.But he didn’t.

Instead, he exhaled harshly, running a hand down his face before taking another step closer, reducing the already small distance between you.

"You think I do not feel?" he asked, voice low but charged with emotion. "That I do not feel everything when it comes to you?"

Your breath hitched.

"Do you know what it is like?" he continued, his tone almost accusatory, as though you had done something to him. "To see you in a crowded ballroom and only see you? To dance with another woman and only wish that it was you I was dancing with instead?"

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"Do you know what it is like to wake up every morning and wish—pray—that I had the strength to be selfish? That I could throw away everything I have worked for, everything I have ever been, just to be with you?" Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Anthony took another step forward."Do you think I do not want to touch you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That every time I look at you, I do not ache to pull you close? That I do not dream of threading my fingers through this damn hair of yours and kissing you until you cannot breathe?"

Your breath came fast and uneven, your body burning under his words. He was too close now. Too close, too much. Anthony’s hand twitched at his side, as if resisting the urge to reach for you, to grab you, to claim you.

But he didn’t.Because if he touched you, if he gave in—he knew there would be no going back.

"You were never a mistake," he said, voice shaking. "You were never something I regretted."

"But I am afraid," he admitted. "I am afraid of what I become when I am with you. Afraid that you are the one thing I cannot control, the one thing that could ruin me."

You swallowed thickly, staring at him. "And yet," he continued, his voice softer now, gentler, "I am more afraid of what I am without you."

Silence.

The world felt unbearably still.

Anthony stood before you, stripped of all pretense, all composure. There was no Viscount Bridgerton here—no noble duty, no careful restraint.

Just a man. A man who had never wanted anything as much as he wanted you.

Your chest ached.Because this—this—was the Anthony Bridgerton no one else got to see.

And God help you, but you loved him.

"Say something," he pleaded, his voice raw.Your lips parted, but the words refused to come.

How could they, when every part of you—every fiber of your being—was caught in the tempest of Anthony Bridgerton?

He was too close, his breath mingling with yours, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim morning light. He was a storm waiting to break, and yet, for once, he was not running from it. He stood there, open, exposed, the weight of his confession hanging between you like something sacred.

You should walk away. You should. It would be the proper thing, the safe thing. It would be the logical choice, the rational choice—

But when had anything between you and Anthony Bridgerton ever been rational?

His gaze flickered down to your lips. And that was when you knew. It was inevitable.

Anthony had been fighting it for so long, had been clawing his way through the rules and expectations and all the things that told him no, no, no—but the moment he saw your lips part, the moment he saw the way you swayed ever so slightly toward him, he snapped.

His hand shot out, grasping the side of your face, fingers threading into your hair. A low, tortured sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for months, years—his entire life.

And then he kissed you.

It was not gentle. It was not careful. It was desperate.

His lips crashed against yours, hot and insistent, stealing the very air from your lungs. He kissed you like a man starved, like someone who had been denied this moment too many times, who had spent too long pretending he did not want it.

You gasped against his mouth, but he did not relent.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, closer, as if he could not bear a single inch of space between you. Your fingers clutched at the lapels of his coat, anchoring yourself, your knees threatening to give out beneath you. The kiss deepened, and it was ruinous.

It was not the kiss of a man who intended to let go. It was the kiss of a man who knew he was already damned. And, you let yourself fall with him.

You melted against him, into him, as though you had been made to fit there all along. His hands roamed your back, pressing, grasping, like he needed to memorize you, like he feared you would disappear the moment he let go.

And for the first time in weeks—no, months—you let yourself forget. You forgot the whispers, the scrutiny, the unspoken thoughts that declared you unworthy of a man like him. But you were a hypocrite, saying you’re unworthy but wanted to snatch him away either way. You admit it. You’re selfish

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths. His hands remained on you, unwilling to let go.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice raw.

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest. You should. You should tell him to stop, should tell him this was a mistake, should remind him of the consequences. But you didn’t, instead, you lifted a hand to his cheek, fingers trembling as they traced the sharp edge of his jaw.

“You do not want me to say that,” you whispered.

A pained sound left him, and then he was kissing you again, softer this time, but just as hungry.

His voice was hoarse, desperate. His fingers dug into your waist, gripping you as though you were the only thing tethering him to this world. His forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath ragged and uneven, his entire body taut with restraint.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured again, though this time it was not a plea, but a warning. His lips hovered just above yours, his nose brushing against your cheek, his fingers curling ever so slightly into the fabric of your dress. “Because if you don’t… I will have you. And I won’t stop.”

You should have been afraid. Not of him, never of him—but of what this meant. Of what you were about to do. But you weren’t. Because this was inevitable.

The tension that had simmered for days, months even, was finally at its breaking point, and you wanted it to break. You wanted to shatter alongside him.

Your fingers curled around the lapels of his coat, tugging him closer, your breaths mingling in the space between you.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered.

Anthony’s restraint snapped.

He growled, low and deep in his throat, before his lips crashed against yours, harder than before, more urgent, more needy. His hands slid down your waist, gripping your hips, pulling you against him in a way that made heat coil low in your belly.

You gasped into his mouth, and he took advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting you, claiming you. It was dizzying, the way he kissed you—like he had been starving for you, like he had been deprived of this for far too long.

One of his hands tangled into your hair, tilting your head just the way he wanted, deepening the kiss until you were completely at his mercy. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers twisting in his coat, your body pressing against his, desperate for more.

“You have no idea,” he murmured between kisses, his lips trailing down the column of your throat, his voice rough and unsteady. “How long I have wanted this. How long I have ached for you.”

You whimpered as his teeth grazed your pulse point, your head falling back as his mouth continued its descent, lips and tongue and teeth mapping out every inch of exposed skin.

“Anthony—”

He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands tightening on your waist before he lifted you, backing you up against the terrace railing. His hips slotted between your legs, the movement making you gasp, making you feel the unmistakable proof of his desire pressing against your thigh.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured again, but this time, his voice was almost taunting, as if he already knew the answer.

Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned, his hips pressing even closer, making you keen.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered, breathless.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “My reckless girl,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice thick with want. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

His hands slid lower, gathering the fabric of your dress, fingertips grazing bare skin. Every inch of you burned where he touched, where he kissed, where he pressed against you.

You were losing yourself, unraveling beneath him, and you didn’t care.

Because for the first time in a long, long time—

You weren’t running.

And neither was he.

A/n: with that being said, there'll be like one or two chapters left since I don't know what else to write anymore to make it more interesting 😭😭

@talkativecarnation

@imafangirlofeverything

@stopeatread

@smartiepants217

@magical-spit

@ifilwtmfc

@kitkat27

@electronicexpertshark

@annareidprofiler

@zestygingergirl

@noirrose21-blog

@ericityyy

@neenieweenie

@syraxnyra

[pinkslipxox]

In Your Arms:

Summary: Billie comes home the studio frustrated

Warnings: fluff 🙈🥰

——————————————————————————

The living room is draped in a soft glow, the sun setting just outside the window, casting a golden hue over the stark white walls. You hum to yourself as you wipe off the remaining dust from the coffee table, your heart fluttering in anticipation for Billie’s impending return from the studio, the most eagerly awaited and cherished moment of your day. A warmth blooms within your chest at the thought of her arms wrapped around you, the sound of her melodic voice, her comforting scent— you couldn’t think of anything better to look forward to.

Just then, the front door bursts open, and in strides Billie, your sweet and loving girlfriend. Her expression is a whirlwind of frustration. You can almost feel the tension emanating from her as she kicks off her sneakers, her brows knitted together in a frown that would intimidate anyone else.

"Fuck!" she mutters, her voice laced with irritation, tossing her bag onto the nearby chair. Her frustrated expression softens only slightly when you looks at you for a brief second before she heads to the bedroom without another word.

Your heart aches at the sight of your Billie so tense. She’s been working harder recently, more than you’ve ever seen her do so, and you can only imagine how the day has been for her. You know how much she pours her heart and soul into her music, but sometimes the industry can be a nasty place, choking the fire in her.

Slowly, you open the door, and you’re greeting by the sight of Billie sat at the edge of the bed with her face buried in her hands. You can see the weight of the world on her shoulders, and your heart aches for her. Billie looks up, her ocean blue eyes filled with unshed tears, and she outstretches her arm out to you, a silent plea for your presence. You immediately go to her and sit down next to her.

“What happened, Billie?” you ask softly, wanting nothing more than to comfort the love of your life.

“It was a rough day,” Billie starts after a moment of silence, followed by a deep breath. “The deadlines… the lyrics… and Finneas, oh my God…” She slowly shakes her head, muttering something under her breathe before she continues, “It’s hard, Y/N, and it feels like I can’t catch a break.”

“Let’s take a bath together,” you suggest gently, offering a smile that you hope will reassure her. “It’ll help you relax.”

At your words, Billie’s expression softens slightly as she nods, a hint of gratitude breaking through her irritation.

“Alright, doll,” she whispers, her voice lower, almost vulnerable. You lead her to the bathroom, flicking on the warm water. The sensation of steam curling around you envelops both of you, soothing in its embrace.

Once the tub is filled with bubbles, you go to the kitchen and return with two glasses of wine, handing one to Billie before you both slip in. You position yourself behind Billie, your fingers instantly finding the tense muscles in her shoulders. Gently, you begin slowly to massage her skin.

“Just breathe, Bills. You’re always strong for everyone else; let me be strong for you,” you whisper, placing soft kisses along Billie’s neck.

Billie hums in pleasure. “Mmm, thats it, mama,” she sighs, leaning back into your embrace. You feel her relax against you, much to your own relief, and you can’t help the smile that spreads on your lips.

“It’s just, like, I wanna create, you know? But I feel like I’m constantly fighting,” Billie continues, and you can hear the vulnerability sneaking back in. You nod, letting her vent, tracing your fingers over her skin, reveling in the touch and warmth.

“I know, Billie. Just remember, you don’t have to fight all the time. I’m here to support you.” A soft smile breaks across your lips as you lean in, planting a tender kiss on her cheek.

Billie turns her head, kissing your lips gently, and you feel the love and the appreciation she has for you in the sweet gesture. Everything will be okay, even if it didn’t seem like it now. But here, together, the world and its troubles seem to fade away, leaving the two of you in the comfort of each other’s presence.

“You’re my comfort, pretty girl,” Billie murmurs, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Thank you for always being here.”

“Always, Billie, always,” you reply softly and pull her further into your embrace, right where she belongs.

[moonmaiden1996]

Love at First Sight (According to Nagumo, Anyway) Part 7

Warning- Blood and horror.

You opened your mouth to scream, but nothing came—no desperate cry for help, no ear-shattering shriek—only a strangled, guttural whimper. A rough thumb pressed against your windpipe, not enough to cut off air completely but enough to silence you, to remind you how powerless you were in their grip. Panic bloomed in your chest, searing and consuming, every nerve in your body screaming for you to fight. You thrashed, twisting, kicking with every ounce of strength you had left, but steely hands clamped down around your limbs, locking you in place as if you were a mere insect struggling beneath their grasp.

Your only satisfaction was the thin red lines that blossomed against the man’s skin as your nails raked across him. He hissed, but his grip remained unyielding. It had to be Nagumo. Who else would send minds like these? It had to be. He must have grown sick and tired of waiting. You should have gone to the police. Not that it would have helped you now.

"Bitch," one of them snarled, twisting your arm into an awkward, painful angle, nearly yanking it from its socket. A sharp burst of pain shot through you, white-hot and sickening.

"Your own damn fault," another sneered, a wiry man with nicotine-stained teeth grinning down at you, his breath reeking of tobacco and malice. "Can’t even handle a little girl."

His fingers traced your cheek, slow and deliberate, sending revulsion clawing up your throat. "Pretty little thing," he mused, his voice syrupy with twisted delight. "Might have to take a taste later."

He purred the words like a promise, and your stomach churned.

"This the one?" he called over his shoulder.

Behind him, lurking in the shadows, was your boss—your ex-boss now, you supposed—his bulbous face red and puffy from drink, his eyes glinting with vindictive satisfaction.

"That’s the one," he spat. "Devious little whore. I always knew she was gunning for my job. Didn’t think she’d have the nerve to fucking threaten me with that psycho thug."

They laughed, low and cruel, the sound thick with malice.

"Little girl’s out of her depth," another taunted. "Maybe we should teach her what happens when you let outsiders encroach on our turf."

"Let’s have some fun," the wiry man crooned, turning back to you. "So tell me, little girl, who did you contact? Was it that fool, Tatsu?"

You tried to speak, but the only sound that escaped was a strangled gurgle, raw and desperate. The thug’s thick, calloused finger pressed deeper into your throat, cutting off anything more than a pitiful whimper. The pressure sent a wave of panic surging through your body, your vision blurring at the edges as your airway strained under his grip. It only made them laugh—low, cruel, utterly entertained. Not that they really wanted you to talk. They were enjoying watching you struggle, reveling in your helplessness, savoring your fear like a fine delicacy.

"Not answering? That’s fine," he chuckled darkly. "We can loosen your tongue another way."

He took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing a searing red in the dim alley light. Then, without hesitation, he moved the burning ember closer to your exposed skin.

You writhed, a fresh wave of terror washing over you, but the grip on your body remained unrelenting. Your eyes locked onto the glowing tip, the heat radiating against your skin even before it touched you.

"Stay still, you bitch," a thug growled, and a sharp crack rang through the air as he backhanded you across the face. A burst of pain exploded across your cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth.

The taste of blood flooded your mouth again as you winced, bracing yourself for the blow.

The man raised his hand, poised to strike once more, his grin widening, savoring the moment of terror.

Your eyes closed, instinctively twisting your head away, your body stiffening, bracing for the pain. You waited. And waited.

And then—

"How dare you touch my wife."

The voice cut through the night like a blade, cold and sharp, carrying an edge of quiet fury.

Nagumo stepped into the dim light, his presence swallowing the alleyway like a growing storm. His usual playful smirk was absent, replaced by something unreadable, something dark. The knife in his hand gleamed under the flickering streetlamp, the edge catching the light like a predator's fangs. The thugs barely had time to react before he moved.

One moment, he was standing at the alley’s entrance; the next, he was among them, a blur of fluid, lethal motion. A sickening gurgle filled the air as his blade found the throat of the man who had hit you, a crimson spray splattering the brick wall like grotesque art. The body crumpled before the others could fully process what had happened.

"Shit! It’s him from the order!" someone yelled, scrambling backward.

Nagumo turned to the next with an almost lazy grace, his blade dancing as he twisted out of the way of a clumsy swing. His knife flicked out, and another man dropped, clutching his stomach as blood seeped through his fingers.

Your ex-boss stumbled backward, his face draining of color. "I—I am sorry, I didn’t know—"

"Didn’t you?" Nagumo interrupted, voice pleasant yet devoid of warmth. He stepped over the writhing bodies with eerie calm, his blade dripping. "You touched what’s mine. You tried to hurt her. And you thought that was something you’d walk away from?"

The last thug turned to run, but he didn’t make it two steps before Nagumo’s knife buried itself between his ribs. A garbled scream echoed in the alleyway as he collapsed, twitching.

Nagumo let out a slow exhale and turned to your ex-boss, the only one left standing. The man was shaking, sweat beading at his temple.

"P-Please, we can work something out, I have money—"

Nagumo tilted his head, as if considering. Then, without a word, he plunged his blade into the man’s neck. Your ex-boss made a wet, choking sound as he sagged against Nagumo, eyes wide with disbelief before the life drained from them completely. Nagumo yanked the knife free and let him drop.

Silence filled the alley, thick and suffocating.

Nagumo turned to you. The rage was gone from his face, replaced by something softer. He crouched beside you, reaching out. You flinched, your body still trembling.

"Shhh," he murmured, his voice almost soothing now. "It’s over. You’re safe."

Safe. The word rang hollow.

Nagumo’s golden eyes burned with a silent fury as he crouched beside you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he brushed a thumb across your bloodied lip. Without a word, he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your trembling shoulders, the weight and warmth of it cocooning you in an odd sense of security. "They won’t hurt you again. No one will. Not while I’m here," he murmured, voice softer now, yet carrying an unshakable promise.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared into his golden eyes, the intensity in them nearly suffocating.

"Let’s get you somewhere safe," he said softly, offering his hand.

Your stomach twisted. Your ex-boss’s body was a grotesque sight—slumped on the cold concrete, eyes wide in disbelief, the life draining from him in a crimson pool. The others lay scattered in grotesque poses, all bloodied, all still. The blood was so thick now it almost seemed like the alley was drowning in it, the metallic tang of it sharp in your nostrils, clinging to everything—the walls, your skin, your clothes. It felt unreal, like the world had shifted sideways and you were trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

But there was no escaping the truth.

Nagumo had saved you. But why?

The knife in his hand was still dripping with blood. His calm demeanor, the coldness in his golden eyes—he was the one who’d ended their lives so effortlessly. And yet, here he was now, extending his hand toward you, his voice soft, almost gentle in the midst of all this chaos.

He wanted to help you. But did he?

Your mind raced, the events of the last few minutes crashing over you in waves of disbelief. You trembled, your entire body shaking—not from the cold, but from the utter shock of it all. You felt numb, detached, as if you were floating above your own body, unable to make sense of the reality unfolding at your feet.

"Come on," Nagumo coaxed, his voice soothing, even as the bloodied bodies of the men he’d killed lay scattered at his feet. His gaze softened just a fraction, and you felt the weight of it—the intensity of his eyes, the power in his presence, the undeniable pull of him. "You’re safe now. I’m here."

But were you? Were you really?

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the gruesome sight of your ex-boss, his bloated face still locked in a mask of surprise, his last breath stolen from him in a moment of pure terror. You should have felt relief, but all you could feel was a deep, gnawing sense of confusion, of displacement.

His hand was still there, just inches from you, warm and inviting. But you couldn’t move. Your body was frozen in place, unable to take the step toward him, to let go of the fear still gripping you. The tremors in your legs wouldn’t stop. Your mind couldn’t seem to catch up.

Nagumo stepped closer to you, his presence almost overwhelming. He crouched down beside you, his golden eyes studying your face, reading your fear, your confusion, and your unwillingness to accept what had just happened. His fingers reached out, brushing against your bloodied lip, his touch so gentle it was almost a shock compared to the violence that had just erupted in the alley.

"Shhh," he whispered softly, his voice almost soothing now, coaxing you into the calm he promised. "It’s okay. It’s all over."

But it wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay.

Your heart was still pounding in your chest, your breath shallow, ragged. You couldn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You wanted to say something—anything—to make sense of it all, but your throat was tight, your words stuck somewhere deep inside.

Nagumo’s face softened a fraction, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his words like a balm over your raw, trembling nerves. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t.

You could feel yourself slipping. The tremors in your limbs grew stronger, your body rebelling against the cold, the blood, the madness.

Without a word, Nagumo reached out, his hands sliding under your arms, and in one fluid motion, he lifted you off your feet. His body was warm against yours, his arms strong as he cradled you close to his chest. The scent of him—clean, sharp, like freshly cut leather—filled your senses, grounding you in a way that nothing else had.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what you were feeling. All you could do was cling to him, your hands shaking as you burrowed your face against the curve of his neck, your body instinctively seeking solace in the only place that felt safe, even if you weren’t sure why.

Nagumo’s arms tightened around you but there was a tenderness there, too—a strange kind of care amidst the violence. His voice, still gentle, still soothing, whispered against your ear. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Not while I’m here.”

His words, though meant to reassure, only served to deepen the knot in your stomach. Not while I’m here. Your stomach twisted again—harder. But as you looked at the carnage surrounding you, the lifeless bodies, the blood pooling at your feet—you realized one thing.

No one else had come to save you. No one else had even noticed you were in danger. Nagumo had.

And that was perhaps the most terrifying thing of all.

You buried your head further into his neck, pressing your eyes closed tightly.

@yomsy @noodle81937

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[the-poets-are-screaming]

Heart of ruby.

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it was pretty early around the village but you were an early riser, you took those opportunities to care for your garden.

But oh, unbeknownst to you, you fixed alucard’s sleep schedule, he made sure to sleep early every night just to wake up early morning merely to see you out on your house around the village.

he remembered how his father always had doted on his mother, noting down her favorite dish, which happened to be fish, her favorite flowers, and so on, and alucard vowed to do the same thing for his future wife.

So he noted down everything you liked, whilst watching you, he took mental notes of what you loved, and he made sure to ‘accidentally’ provide them for you.

He felt silly, like a teenage boy in love but he wanted to jot down every detail of you, he had a notebook,

the print was the initial of your name, and it was your favorite color.

There were some pretty sketches of you, in additional, some dress designs he believed would suit you, or probably design for you in the future, he wanted to dress you like such a doll.

You nearly found the book but apparently he was so fast to snatch it from you that he almost surpassed the speed of light.

…

Ah, he always loved watching you feed the children, you always provided them their favorite dessert, the time you took to make each dessert for them, it served to increase his love for you even more, for what would you provide for your future children?

You gently cupped the child’s chin up to wipe the little stain of cream off his cheeks, eliciting a giggle from both you and the latter.

“You always seem to serve them but not yourself..” it was an ethereal voice, you didnt flinch, You couldnt, his voice was too soothing to be served as scary or flinching-worthy.

You turned to face the blonde dhampir, smiling down at you, god, he looked so pretty with the sun hitting him. He extended his hand out to you, helping you get up, he reveled the beautiful supple skin of your hand, you were distracted to catch the feeling of his thumb taking the chance to brush against your knuckles.

“Why? Would you like some dessert? I made some—“

“No, i.. got you something..” thanks to his book— perhaps stalking, he knew you loved ruby jewelries.

You cocked your head to the side, your voice filled with curiosity. “me?”

He nodded, he reached a hand out for you to rest your palms on, and when you did, oh he wouldve fainted, he wanted to kiss your knuckles but he had to give you something.

You watched him place a box, it looked intricate and well designed, like a jewelry box.

“I believe you deserved to be seen for your efforts on taking care of the children.. i hope this makes up for it?”

You felt like your brain twisted, but before you could even process your brain, you took the jewelry box, stuttering “for— for me??”

He nodded, but before he could say anything, he was met in a hug, instinctively, he wrapped his arms around your waist back, takimg his very oppertunity to inhale the scent of your lovely hair.

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A/N: happy bday to meeee