#oh to be a guy in a pond

[maareyas]

This was supposed to be a shitpost but painting this was so genuinely healing for me that I decided not to add the bottom text

Original meme it's based on + closeups shots under the cut:

[titanebaby]

horseplay in the lake / we’re so lucky to have him on the team

ft. the poem that peter tweeted abt

[theeminentlyimpractical]

I think about this caption at least once a month

[expectiations]

The Husbands of River Song is not and has never been about the Eleventh Doctor being a deadbeat, distant husband (gross mischaracterization by the way) and the Twelfth Doctor being the "better, more mature, affectionate" husband.

It was about River Song. It was about River and how the events in Manhattan took such a toll on her. It was about letting us see River dealing with grief the way The Snowmen showed us how the Doctor coped after losing believing he had used up all his time with River.

Looking at THORS now with The Ruby's Curse in mind, I get the instinct (for lack of a word that I cannot remember) that the Manhattan incident Blue Roach read from River's diary was not the Manhattan episode that we saw in series 7.

On that note, I'd also like to bring up the fact that the Doctor grounds River and River grounds the Doctor. As Tree talked about in one of her tags, River's empathy is more cognitive than emotional and after musing on it for a bit – considering that the Doctor can no longer go to Manhattan (which may have changed in later series but I wouldn't know at the moment because I have yet to overcome series 7b) and that River does spend time with her parents in Manhattan post-TATM, would the latest Manhattan incident in River's diary be the funeral for Amy? Amy's death? Perhaps even Anthony's? I mean, we already know Rory died five years earlier than Amy. So, knowing how deep River's love for her mother is, it's not too farfetched to say that River spent that time with them. River was by their bedsides as they drew their last breath.

Then Rory's gone, Amy's gone, Anthony's gone. Where does that leave River? Where is the Doctor? (sulking on a cloud on top of Victorian London? trying to figure out the mystery of his newest companion? all while constantly mentioning a certain Professor Song who actually turns out to be his dearly sort of departed absolutely beloved wife?)

Without her parents (and her husband) to ground her, she goes on this maddened, grieving space Robin Hood spree. She seeks fun to fill in the void and takes up marriage as a hobby/side quest. Does she look for the Doctor? Perhaps. Yes, actually. Considering she crashed her latest sort-of-husband's ship onto a planet where she purported the TARDIS to be.

But... she's stealing the TARDIS. She could have just called the Doctor, yeah? So, she doesn't want the Doctor to know then. Well... yeah, considering she has two sort-of-husbands in hand.

So, River would just have gone on from one space Robin Hood spree to the next had the TARDIS not sort-of-stranded herself on Mendorax Dellora to make sure her Water stopped being stubborn and reconcile(?) with her Thief?

Also taking note of how River has read stories about them and knows that Darillium is purported to be their last night together (I could also bring up the fact that this is why I find it easy to digest the "River meeting regenerations of the Doctor younger than the Tenth Doctor makes sense and doesn't break cannon nor ruin SITL/FOTD" but that would take a whole other post). Does this River believe her time with the Eleventh Doctor has ended? The same way series 7b Eleven believed his time with older versions of River has ended? Is this all part of some grand fuckup in communication all thanks to their tangled timelines?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But has River not just been running from her family's death? Has River been running from her supposed last night with the Doctor?

"But River doesn't run." Oh yes. Yes, she does. She knows when to stand her ground. She knows when to charge. And she knows when to run.

"That's out of character for her." No, it's not. She's not invincible. She's this well trained assassin, yes. But invincible? No.

Invincible from the tendency to be blinded by their emotions? Obviously not.

River lies. And River runs.

She is not afraid of her death. She is afraid of the day when her husband, her Doctor, looks into her eyes and looks right through her. And it shouldn't kill her but it does. It did.

So she ran and ran until her bigger-on-the-inside Mum gently reached out and put her back together with the only person left who could ground her. Who she didn't recognize at first but still fell in love with (and would have loved even if he hadn't been revealed to be her actual, long missing husband). Who finally found out their last night wasn't just any night – it was a twenty-four year long last night. Who finally gave her a breather from all the running she'd been doing.

And oh what a night that was (it was the talk of the universe).

[jasper-unofficial]

tay, book, junior, x, and sing video calling pond to wish him a happy birthday 🤏

[little-one-eyed-monsters]

This teacher-on-teacher romance has my whole heart BLESS

If these were my teachers, I would've gone to school EARLY every single day just to see these bozos fall in love.

And how many times have we seen that one perpetually single, stressed-out teacher, who inspires us and makes us feel bigger than who we are, and go "hey, my Math teacher would go wonderfully well with that smiley teacher from Class 3."?

Just me? Either way, I SHIP IT like FedEx.

[mrsoftthoughts]

Hear me out ( or don't this may don't have any sense)

Alabaster Torrington with Little Big Boy by madds Buckley.

[bibimbinge]

on today's episode of "these men want me dead"

THIS WAS A PERSONAL ATTACK

[arabella-s-arts]

Me watching Doctor Who:

Would people please stop sexually assaulting this man!

[oceanwithinsblog]

so here i am again ... just caught up with the last two episodes of season 7b ... and i feel like banging my head on a wall :)) what's new :))

[vtimbertiger]

I got to see a Snappy Boi in the wild today

Very majestic

[all-our-exploring]

.

[shotmrmiller]

just porn. and a comparison of cocks:>

finally deciding to sleep with ghoap after dating them for a couple of months, but because they're overwhelming together— you'd like to breathe, not drown— you decide to be with them separately for now to experience their gravity one at a time without getting completely swept away.

(you don't know whether to be insulted that they're playing rock-paper-scissors on who gets to go first or flattered that they both desperately want to be first. simon wins and johnny pouts.)

with simon, you'd been outright terrified. that thing between his legs didn't spring up when you made him lose the pants, didn't bob with each step he took toward the bed, toward you; gravity pulled it downward, each step he took made it sway heavily. if he hadn't taken the time to work you open, his thick fingers curling as his tongue focused on the apex of your pussy until your slick traced a sinuous path down his wrist, coming to stickily drip from his elbow onto the sheets, it would've ached a lot more than it did.

because it did. ache, that is. there was no staving off the discomfort of the stretch, the sting only spreading its sharp tendrils further when you took him to the root, the orgasms simon had wrenched from you only a thin barrier against the full brunt of it. but fortunately, your generous lover gave you as much time as you'd needed to accommodate, to give in, to surrender, and the pain bloomed into warm, rich pleasure when his hand slithered down to your hips, the pads of his fingers brushing over your oh so tender pearl and when you'd keened out a sigh, he'd begun to fuck you in earnest and anything after that is one big blur.

simon is a big guy. massive, really, built like he belonged on the battlefield. he did not take up space; he was space, so you hadn't been surprised that he'd been as egregiously endowed as he was. painfully fitting, you reckon.

so, when it's johnny that's pressing hot, wet kisses against the smooth column of your throat, you're gulping down a sigh of sharp relief when he breathes that while he's not as blessed as simon, he'll treat you better than him, he promises.

(still sore from having lost that silly game, you notice.)

johnny's thickly built but compact— all muscle and tightly coiled energy, like a fire burning too close, so you're expecting him to be proportionate the same way simon was.

oh, how grievously wrong you were.

what he lacked in length, barely an inch or two, who cares, was insignificant compared to his sheer, staggering girth. you'd thought simon was overwhelming, but johnny was something else entirely. it hung ominously, the thin, groomed skin above it seemingly stretched taut, strained with its density. what's worse, it didn't sway with his movements; it just hung there, rigid, a deadweight.

you'd survived simon just to die at the hands— and cock— of johnny.

figures.

(time had seemingly slowed when johnny had begun to sink into you, every second stretching as painfully as your poor cunt, fire licking at your nerves, spreading through your limbs in waves, one more intense than the last. your breath is shallow and uneven as your body resists, stubborn against the intrusion and johnny hooks his arm under your leg, just at the crook of his elbow— easy does it, hen, breathe f'r me— and he cants your hips to that sweet angle that allows him to slip in, like a stone sinking into a pond. The flood of relief you feel is euphoric in contrast to the raw feel of you being stretched to your absolute limit, and while the tension isn't completely gone, the fragile respite perched right on the edge of discomfort, it is a victory.)

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[winnie1emon]

✧.* what happens when theodore nott encounters a sweet girl in the forbidden forest?

chaser!theodore nott x fawn!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.7k

c/w: MDNI!!, smut, sexual language, piv, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, fingering, creampie, one line of google translated italian (IM SORRY), chaser!theo is mostly for the intro, doesn't have significant impact on the plot

a/n: hi this was supposed to be a two-part story, but heh... thank you + sorry to everyone who was patient with me!! this is not proof read i fear꒰(˶◞ ‸ ◟˶)꒱ also also!! ive stopped procrastinating and set up my obx blog @rafesdearest <3

A large breeze entered the pitch, and the crowd cheered as Slytherin's seeker finally caught the golden snitch. Descending off his broomstick, Theodore wasted no time rummaging through the oncoming crowd to find the pitch's exit.

No, he didn't need heaps of Slytherin girls running their hands up and down his arm; no, he didn't need the glory from scoring 70 points for Slytherin; and no, he didn't need to hear the complaints of the opposing team. All he needed was a good fucking cigarette.

"For fucks sake," Theodore huffed, pushing through the rowdy waves of people, scowling as he caught a glimpse of a girl with one of his teammate's names written sloppily on her forehead.

With a final shoulder bump through the crowd, he found himself in the broom shed, tossing his broomstick carelessly inside and opting out of heading to the locker room for a quick change and shower.

He let out a large exhale, beginning to take large strides towards Hagrid's hut, ultimately nearing the Forbidden Forest. Contrary to popular belief, the Forbidden Forest wasn't all that scary; the woodsy smell filled Theodore's nostrils, making him scrunch his nose as the rainwater scent from earlier that day lingered.

Allowing the soft crunch of the leaves to take his attention away momentarily, he hadn't noticed the figure standing at his usual smoke spot, deep in the forest.

Fumbling with his pocket, his carton of cigarettes flew out, landing on the dirt with a soft thud. A frustrated groan escaped his lips as he took a few steps forward, reaching for the fallen pack as he saw another hand pick it up.

Startled, Theodore looked up, only to be met by what seemed to him the most random girl ever. He had never seen her before, despite her appearance suggesting that she was in his year, much to his surprise; he knew most of the people in Hogwarts-- a testament to his popularity.

"Thank you," he said, his voice laced with skepticism.

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “You just win?”

He was somewhat surprised that you knew, or even asked. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You always come here after you have a game. When you lose you usually talk to yourself…” you trailed off, remembering the times you’d hear him cursing himself or his teammates under his breath whenever he lost. You idly gazed around the forest, eyes landing on a small flower by your feet. You crouched down to admire its pretty purple color.

As you did so, Theodore was still confused. “What? How do you know that?” he asked, his tone teetering over being curious and accusatory.

"Sorry, what?" you asked, missing his question as you were momentarily distracted.

Theodore rubbed his temple. Seriously? "I said, 'how do you know that?'"

"Oh! What- I'm always over there," you pointed out, your finger directing his eyes to a small pond about half a dozen yards away. "I come every day at the same time. Usually I start leaving once you arrive though." You stood back on your feet, taking his wrist as you airily led him there. "Here. The deer like to come usually, not anymore though."

You then realized you were just grabbing some guy's wrist without permission-- Theodore Nott's wrist. Letting go, you turned your head in the other direction as your face heated up.

Theodore raised a wry eyebrow as you dropped his wrists, averting your gaze from him before seeing the pretty area. "Why don't they come anymore?"

You had felt the color comfortably return to your face before saying, "There's just been a lot more litter lately. I don't think they like that."

He grimaced, unbeknownst to you, recalling all the cigarette butts he had casually dropped on the ground in the past few months. "Right..."

Unable to find anything else to talk about, you thought it was best to leave. "I'm going to head back."

You turned to leave, awkwardly stepping around a few of the stones on the ground before Theodore spoke. "So soon?" He looked at you teasingly, faint traces of arrogance on his face. "Thought we could get to know each other."

"Well I-- I told Hagrid I'd help him judge his new crop of pumpkins," you told him lamely.

"Mm. Sure."

His eyes followed you as you attempted to leave once more, weaving through the trees, eventually small enough to fade out of sight.

Cute.

--------------------------------------------------------

The following day, Theodore returned to the forest even though he didn't play a game that afternoon. He remembered you telling him that you would go there every day at the same time.

As he walked deeper into the woods, he spotted your form from afar, walking up to you as nonchalantly as possible.

"Hey."

You were currently tending to a few of the insects on the dirt, startled by his sudden greeting. Whipping your head around you saw him again-- Theodore and his gorgeous blue fucking eyes.

"Ah- Hi!" you exclaimed, giving him a large smile before quickly dropping it, subconsciously beating yourself up for being overenthusiastic. "There isn't a game today, what are you doing here?"

"Just you know, thought I'd come and get some fresh air. Didn't know you'd be here," he shrugged.

"I told you I come here at the same time every day," you told him, brows furrowed and lips quirking in a small smile.

"Forgot."

You were a bit suspicious at first, but he said it with such indifference that it simmered away.

This happened for the next few days; you'd constantly come to the forest, only to see Theodore already there, or him arriving shortly after. You both made conversation with each other and oddly enough, he was good company. Of course, you couldn't help but glance at his face for a moment too long from time to time, somewhat admiring his chiseled features or his captivating eyes. Sometimes you'd swear that his gaze would linger on you, tracing you from head to toe, but you swatted those thoughts away immediately.

The two of you grew much more comfortable with one another, even beginning to confide in one another about the teachers you didn’t particularly love or the embarrassing moments you guys had before locked away to never tell a soul.

About a week since your initial introductions, you went back to the pond as always, expecting Theodore to come soon after. Of course, what you weren't expecting, was to see a small herd of deer nearby. Your face melted into that of wonder, eyes glassy, having missed the deer during their disappearance.

Shortly after breaking out of your marveling trance, you noticed how most of the litter near the pond was gone. There were no cigarette butts, no chocolate frog boxes, and only one stray and empty bottle of butterbeer.

You heard someone approaching and by this point you knew it was Theodore. You scuttled over to him, interlocking your fingers before hastily dragging him over to the delightful sight.

“Look, look, look!”

He let you, allowing his body to be pulled by you, a quizzical smirk on his face. "Yes?"

“Theodore- look! The deer! They came back, the-“ you gabbed.

“I know,” he said gently.

“No, seriously! Theodore they’re back! There’s no more mess, so they came-,” you spoke incontinently before pausing. “You what?”

“I know.”

“Oh.” You were crestfallen for a moment, disappointed that you couldn’t have him share your excitement at the same time. “Did you already come here this morning?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I came here last night,” he said. You eyed him curiously, releasing your fingers from his before he spoke again. “I cleaned it myself.”

He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, like it was something he got done in a second.

“Huh?” you questioned, almost unbelieving.

“Come on, do I have to repeat everything for you sweetheart?” he simpered.

You were a bit daunted by his use of a nickname. Sure you two have gotten close over the past few days, but you didn't know you guys were that close...

"No sorry-," you apologized quickly. "It just sounded like you said you cleaned the whole thing yourself. But you wouldn't. I know you," you tried to tease, but his face , just moments ago coy and smug, was now unamused. Of course, you started to prattle as a last resort to not make things weird.

"Not that you're like lazy or anything! I meant that you just don't seem the type, -- er, you probably have better things to do with your time than clean and stuff."

The expression on his face was unreadable, and you could feel your soul wilting away with each passing moment.

"But if it was you then great! That's really, really great and uhm, kind of you!" You forced yourself to bring a finger up to your mouth to shut yourself up, a bead of sweat forming on your head.

Theodore leaned a bit closer, and he looked off. You couldn't tell if he was bothered or annoyed with you, or if he was just pulling your leg.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

Were you supposed to laugh...?

You opened your mouth, prepared to let out another incoherent string of apologies and nonsense, before you were interrupted by the feel of his breath on your face, followed by the soft landing of his lips onto yours.

It felt gentle, patient, almost like he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn't. He noticed, beginning to bring his hands to cup your face, and your hands found his hair, his tongue beginning seek entryway into your mouth and you granted it to him.

He became a little sloppy, his breathing ragged and his hands bringing your face impossibly close to his own. He got rougher, like he was was a man trapped and you were his first ray of sunlight in years. Somewhat overwhelmed, you brought your hands up to his shoulders, and he took it as a sign to pull away.

His hair had become mussed, his chest heaving up and down as he gasped for air.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized sheepishly as he gave you a gap of space. "I got too... too," he huffed, catching his breath.

"No, you didn't do anything," you reassured him. "Just needed to- to soak it all in."

He gazed at you, face flushed and his embarrassment slowly fading. You granted yourself the ability to let your eyes travel down, stopping at the very obvious tent in his pants.

The sound of your heart beating filled your head, excitement and arousal about to pour out of you. You closed the gap between you both once more, pulling him into another kiss. You savored the small sound of surprise he made, your hand roving down to cup his erection that was straining against the denim of his jeans.

You heard him groan, pushing you a few steps back to place your back against a large tree, hands snaking down to flip your skirt up. He fondled your ass, lips detaching from yours to scoff a smile.

"Not chilly in this?" he asked you, fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear.

"Wanted to look cute," you defended.

"For me?"

You looked like you had been hit with a confundus charm, but that moment was short lived as you felt him lower your underwear, the air hitting your exposed cunt.

You ran a finger against the straining denim, making him twitch slightly. He lightly rubbed over your pussy, your arousal coating his fingers. He slipped a finger in, another one quickly following.

Your knees buckled for a moment as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt, finding a quick pace. You dropped your hand from his erection, now using it to hold onto the tree from behind for support as you let out a string of moans and whimpers in his ear.

He curled his fingers, finding the spot that made your eyes roll back, watching you with the most impish look ever. You were so close to orgasming quickly, and right as you were, he pulled his fingers out, releasing multiple incoherent mewls from you.

"Così dannatamente carina." (So damn cute).

Before you could complain about your lost orgasm, he had discarded of his zip up sweater, pulled down his pants, freeing his erection from his boxers, and lined up his cock with your cunt. Theodore lifted one of your legs up, supporting it with his hand to spread your legs. He pushed inside slowly, your pussy time to adjust to his thick cock.

"Shit, you feel so good," he whispered by your ear.

Each thrust of his hips would pressure your back harder into the tree, but the pain was unacknowledged as you could only focus on the pleasure currently pumping in and out of you.

"T-Theo," you mewled, looking at him with wide eyes, maintaining eye contact.

"Hm?" he asked, using his hand that wasn't supporting your leg brush a stray eyelash off your cheek.

You wanted to speak, but instead let out a strangled whine, the erotic noises of his cock entering in and out of your sopping cunt growing louder. You bit down hard on your lip, immensely stimulated because your cunt was getting the stuffing it needed, but because of how gorgeous he was.

He was otherworldly, the beautiful scenery visible past his face, no doubt only complimenting his features. You stared so hard, to the point that your brain had gone fuzzy and your moans and whimpers slipped out more frequently.

Theodore was clearly sharing the same feeling, beginning to bury himself deeper into you, his hips slapping against your clit each time.

He peppered kisses all over your neck, sucking on your skin until it left marks. Soon, his movements grew frantic-- much more than it already was, and his groans were shaky.

"Fuck, I'm- I'm going to come inside you," he panted.

Your cunt clenched against his cock, much like how you clung onto his shoulders, desperately wanting him to get impossibly closer to you.

"P-please," you begged. "I'm so close. M' gonna come."

He moved his head away from your neck, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the fresh hickey left on there. Gently putting down your leg, he used both hands to now cup your face, staring into the eyes, both of your irises dilated, pure lust on display.

You couldn't hold back any longer, your legs shook, your vision went blurry, and your walls tightened around his cock as you came. He followed shortly after, and with a final thrust, he shot warm, thick ropes of cum into your pussy.

He pulled out shortly after, breathing heavily. The remnants of his leaked out of you as you pulled your underwear back up, patting down your skirt.

Theodore returned his boxers to fit around his waist, zipping up his jeans quickly.

You both stood for a while, unsure if the silence was comfortable or not.

"That was," he spoke first, face flushed and hair disheveled.

"That was good," you said, hopeful that he would agree.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was."

The sun seemed to die down, grey clouds coming in, and you took it as a sign to go. "Should we go back into the castle?"

Theodore nodded in agreement and you pushed yourself off the tree trunk, taking wobbly steps back before he grabbed your wrist from behind.

"Wait." He retrieved his neglected zip up from off the leaf-filled ground, holding it near you, signaling you to outstretch your hands. You did, and he slowly helped you wear the sweater, zipping it up before flipping the hood back to it's intended state. "It's cold."

It was an unusual gesture-- not that it was out of character for him. Just because it was so kind and light, almost as if he didn't fuck the thoughts out of your head just moments before.

You gave him a small smile, allowing his arm to drape over your shoulder as you both started your trek back to the castle.

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