#silly how many women think they need sex

[imaginesomethingrand]

Actually I'm never having sex bc I'm not giving a man that kind of power over me.

I'd get attached while the idiot would just swoop on to the next person, as men do. It happens over and over.

If I ever gave myself to someone it would mean something. It would be with someone who I knew 100% for a fact treated me like an equal and respected me and really loved me, not just lusted. Those sorts of feelings can be fleeting. And are. I dont want any intimacy with someone I don't totally trust. With my heart 1st. Heart isn't going to go groveling after some random guy who really would do it with anyone.

I want it to be personal. With me me. Uniquely me, and me only.

And I would expect no less of him. To wait for me.

And that in itself is a tall order. Plus a man that 100% is not abusive and isn't addicted to violent rape porn plus loves things i love and who I get along with

So yeah probably never having sex. Unless a miracle comes along

And it's perfectly fine with me. I don't need sex (no one needs it). There's a lot more to life, which I'm gonna enjoy without men and only with them if they're not only decent but upstanding, outstanding, matches w me perfectly.

[ablednt]

What do you think gay men are attracted to in men that they can’t be attracted to in women?

It can’t be anything about femininity or masculinity obviously. That’s both sexist, and cultural so can’t be what drives men-only attraction.

It can’t be anything about stated identity because someone could lie just as easily as they could tell the truth in such a statement, and it makes no sense because homosexuality and heterosexuality exists in other species with no stated identities. It’s not like other animals without gender are all pan.

Saying idk it’s the vibes or some indescribable trait men have that women can’t but “I can’t explain” is a nonanswer.

Soooooooo what is it? Or do you think any sexuality but bi/pan is just cultural performance or an identity rather than an inborn orientation?

- [ ]

gay attraction is characterized by fucking your dad whereas I'm going to fuck your MOM LOL

[fillejondrette]

a lot of men really just seem to want to be able to victimize women without women getting upset about it. they'll say that women who take safety precautions have victim complexes, but then say the same thing about women who don't take those safety precautions. i saw this recently in the context of female travelers.

first, i saw a video of a woman demonstrating safety precautions to take on cruises, doing stuff like hooking things to her door to stop it from being opened, clipping the curtains shut, etc. personally, i don't feel the need to those things, and i feel like it's probably a diminishing returns situation- once you've done the obvious stuff like locking the door, any extra steps probably won't help you that much. but if it makes her sleep better, then there's no harm.

second, i saw a video of a woman talking about how she roadtripped in a foreign country with a couple of male travelers she met online. so the total opposite of the first woman, in the sense that she did something i think very few women would be willing to do.

the male comments on both videos were pretty similar, though. they both focused on women's so-called obsession with being victims. the first woman is paranoid, fixated on the idea of being a victim. one commenter wrote "me watching her do all this shit when i'm already hiding inside her room." the message is that women's precautions are silly and ultimately useless, if men really want to hurt us. comments on the second video contained a lot of assumptions that the second woman must have paid for her trip with sex. but many of the commenters were saying things like, "women will do things like this and cry victim, you wanted to be victimized." so they're acknowledging that being alone with random men is in fact dangerous for women. the second woman is a dumb slut who deserves what's coming to her.

i think men are, by and large, pretty aware of how men treat women. they acknowledge this with the argument that women need men to protect them (from other men). they treat male violence as a fact of nature that shouldn't reflect badly on men as a group, and shouldn't make women distrust men - except when a woman does trust men, no, that's wrong too. there's no correct way to behave that will make you a "good" victim, or a reasonable person, in their eyes, and i think that's the goal. if a woman's hurt, it's her fault. if she's afraid of getting hurt, it's her fault. the man is never the one at fault.

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [1]

ghoap x reader pet!au where simon keeps johnny as a pet, but can't keep up with his high sex drive and antics. in order to satiate him, simon decides to go looking for another pet to keep the silly pup entertained. sort of an introductory work bound to become a series of one shots like my mafia!au

cw: simon is a freak, non-con photography, a little dark content, nsfw, slight bdsm dynamics, owner/pet dynamics

Simon wasn’t a photographer, not a good one anyway, but he wasn’t to blame. His large hands were better fit for shredding meat than creating art, but he figured all art was good when the muses were beautiful. 

He had been on the hunt for nearly three hours by that point, wandering throughout the city where the population was thickest. Armed with nothing but his phone, Simon captured photos of various specimens that meandered throughout the streets as they went about their lives. There were roughly twenty pictures he had saved in his gallery of unsuspecting women he figured would be Johnny’s type. Pretty blondes in flowery dresses, alluring doe eyes looking out at the streets; he stole photos of any soft and sweet thing that he figured Johnny would have fun sinking his teeth into. 

A black mask and dark clothes wasn’t the most unsuspecting thing for him to wear on such an outing, yet it was to his advantage at the same time. Several women had caught the slight glint of the camera lens on his phone as he stole eternal glimpses of them. Many of them had even opened their mouths to protest his intrusion, until they looked at him, anyway. Not many people had the bravery or fortitude needed to stand up to a creature as wild and brutish as him. Their mouths shut with such promptness he nearly chuckled at how bashful they were. 

Hunting got more difficult as the sky grew darker. Fresh meat hid behind locked doors that Simon could have easily torn down if he had so desired, but that wasn’t the time. As the lights started to illuminate the street, he dived down into the depths underneath London where tunnels spanned for miles, spider-webbing just below the skin of the city. The stench underground grew more acrid the further he pushed and Simon couldn’t help but huff at it. This was why he enjoyed living out of town, off in some secluded home nestled in the cold embrace of trees and lavish fields. 

Made it harder for his pet to wander off, too. 

The sharp clicking of heels caught his attention as he waited just beyond the yellow line on the platform. Dark eyes flickered to the newest prey that approached, and Simon found himself drinking in the sight of her. Proper clothes covered her body with a simple blouse and a pencil skirt. Dark tights covered the expanse of her legs with its sheer fabric where it was beautifully topped off by a classic pair of heels. The sway of her hips was dramatized by the steps she traversed, her pace slow and careful lest she roll an ankle walking in those heels. 

She was dressed professionally, and if Simon had to guess it was for an interview. By the look on her face, it didn’t go very well. Distracted eyes stared down at the phone in her hand as her lips pressed into a frown. Anxious fingers tapped away as she typed out a message to someone — perhaps a lover? Someone would be crazy not to snatch up a specimen such as that — as she stepped down onto the platform. 

Before she could get too close, Simon quickly dug his phone out before stealing a photo of her. He had gotten so used to the motions he didn’t even have to think about it; not that it was difficult anyway. With her attention still focused elsewhere, he found he was able to snap a few more before she finally put her phone into her bag and began to pay mind to where she walked. She continued further into the platform, well past Simon, and vanished into the crowd as if she had never been there at all. 

Cute. 

It didn’t take long for the tube to take Simon to his stop, and it was even shorter before he seated himself in his car to head back home. The drive itself was the longest part of everything. Annoying traffic, bad drivers; he didn’t feel like he could untense his body until he approached the familiar sight of home. The old and dilapidated building wasn’t much more than an heirloom passed down in the Riley family, but it had quickly become his sanctuary. Seclusion meant he was safe. Seclusion meant he could love in peace.

Warm lights poured through the sheer curtains that covered the windows and were only disturbed by a figure pacing around just beyond them. Simon’s car died off with a sputter as he pocketed his keys before approaching the door. A thick deadbolt kept the house latched tight and secure, though he was confident Johnny knew better than to attempt to dash out by that point. Especially not that day when he had the prospect of such a good treat. 

Johnny was there to greet him at the door with a toothy grin, and the damn pup nearly knocked Simon over as he bounded up to him. His hands pawed at Simon’s chest as if he couldn’t get enough of him, and he didn’t calm down until the man grabbed hold of the collar around his throat. Blue eyes widened as he looked up at his owner, lips twitching with all the words he wanted to exclaim.

“Down,” Simon warned. 

“Did ya get the pictures? Like you said you would?” Johnny questioned, his body still unable to retain his buzzing excitement. 

Instead of answering him verbally, Simon gave a sharp tug on his collar before directing him further into the house. Ancient wood floorboards creaked underneath their weight as they entered the living room. It was devoid of all decor, unless cracks in the paint could be considered art. A rusted lamp was the sole source of light in the room, and the only thing even worth looking at was the glorious stone fireplace that sat against the far wall, but it was much too warm out to light. 

Simon pulled Johnny down onto the old sofa next to him, and the man instantly burrowed into his side, eagerly waiting to see the pretty pups. The phone screen illuminated both of their faces in sync as it blossomed to life, and Johnny almost salivated at just the prospect of what he would see. It didn’t take Simon long to pull up his gallery, and he scrolled to the first photos he had taken that day before angling it so that his excited pup could see it too. Twitching fingers reached out to swipe along the screen, and Simon watched as Johnny’s eyes dilated at every piece of meat he looked at. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted on the couch, and all it took was a simple glance to see how worked up the poor pup was. A hardened bulge strained against the zipper of his jeans, and a groan reverberated in his throat as he continued to swipe through the countless choices put in front of him. 

“Si, they’re all so beautiful. Can’t I have them all?” Johnny whined. 

“Only one,” Simon countered. 

“I’ll be good,” Johnny said with a pout. 

“Just one, Johnny,” Simon repeated, voice more firm. 

Sighing, he continued to swipe through Simon’s phone as his eyes glossed over beautiful legs and delicious hips. It had been so long since he had last seen a woman it was nearly impossible to hold himself back. His body craved them in a way he couldn’t put into words, and he felt like the only thing that would offer him solace would be to burst out of his skin. 

His restless buzzing suddenly ceased when he caught sight of the last group of photos in the gallery. A beautiful woman had him utterly transfixed as she appeared to have descended down a long set of concrete steps. There was something about the troubled look on her face that had his mouth watering. Like he knew he would be able to fix it. Like he could bully the worry out of her with his cock alone. 

“This one,” Johnny said, his decision definite as he held the phone up for Simon to see. “I want this one.” 

[ellemarianne555]

Munch

Summary: Aegon is obsessed with fucking you. He’s used to getting what he wants and doesn’t understand that you don’t seem to want him. Fluffy smut as always. Childhood friends to mild enemies to lovers.

Author’s note: Again I got so sidetracked with the plot I don’t know if the smut is any good! This is heavily inspired by that one scene in Heartbreak High where Spider says nah I’m good to Missy after eating her out in the car park. I hope you enjoy and as always please leave comments or feedback! Sorry if it’s cringey but I think we all kind of want a hot prince to make us feel a little bit like home.

Content warnings: eating out, coming untouched, dry-humping, shameless flirting, semi-public sex, Aegon being a dick, Aegon having a dick. You being fed up.

Word Count: 2500

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

As a prince, with a certain reputation, Aegon II Targaryen knew a lot about sex. He wasn’t weird like his brother, Aemond, who kept a diary of all his conquests with notes on how to best improve his performance. But he did know how to please a woman.

As one of his sister’s lady-in-waiting, you had always been in the periphery since you had left your home and came to court as a young girl. Though you had become even more beautiful as time passed, as the Tyrell’s were renowned to be, there were so many beautiful women at court. And who was Aegon to ever deny himself?

But you did catch his eye one day. He saw you sitting in the gardens, under a shady tree in the heat of summer, making a daisy chain with your nimble and deft fingers. His mind immediately went to how those hands would feel around his cock.

“Why, hello there.” The prince purred. You looked up at him in confusion, he had just blocked your light and seemed to be talking like a character from one of those scandalous and well-thumbed romance novels you hid under your bed.

Aegon leaned against a tree, purposefully flicking a strand of straw like hair from his eyes and smirking in such a way that made it seem like he was doing his best impersonation of a twat. You giggled. You had rarely interacted with Aegon since your childhood together. You used to be close and constant playmates, but propriety had pushed you apart as you became a respected lady and he seemed to become, well, a whore. You had heard he was a dangerous womaniser now, but was this really the man the maids spoke about in reverent tones? This silly boy leaning against a tree and doing his best to cross his arms so that his doublet barely strained against his soft forearms?

You smiled, teasingly. “Can I help you with anything?”

Aegon paused, unsure of how to respond. Surely it was obvious what he wanted? You must have become a very virtuous maiden, he thought, unused to talking to men.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to have a romp under those bushes over there. I’m quite an excellent lover as I am certain you are aware.”

You froze. Had you just been propositioned by the prince? Who wanted you to have a quick tumble in the mud like a pair of rowdy pigs? You had heard he had become arrogant, but this was pushing it.

You curtsied dramatically, your knees hitting the floor as he looked at you, seemingly bemused.

“I’m SO sorry, your grace. But I fear I am need elsewhere. So that would be a no.”

You smiled sweetly and dropped the daisy chain at his feet.

You didn’t bother to look back, but if you had you would have seen a prince rubbing his forehead in confusion with one hand and thumbing the delicate flowers in the other.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The second time Aegon attempted to impress you while hopefully communicating his desire to lay with you was a few weeks later. Aegon had been unable to get you out of his mind. As a prince, he was thoroughly unused to rejection and even more unused to having to work for what he wanted. He was training with his brother in the courtyard, or rather losing appallingly, when he saw you standing on the stone balcony overlooking the square.

He hadn’t been able to forget your smile, so sweet even when cutting him down to size. The way your eyes sparked as you dropped into that ridiculous curtsy. You reminded him of a time when he was more carefree, before the overwhelming responsibilities had twisted him into a man he barely knew.

Aemond, forever the opportunist, took this moment to swipe dirtily at him with his rapier. Aegon dodged to avoid the blade, but in doing so he failed to notice the butt of the sword smacking into his chest as he fell, face down in the mud.

When he came to, you were there, standing over him. At first he thought this was just another late-night fantasy. But this time you seemed to be laughing hysterically instead of moaning sweet nothings.

“W-what’s going on?” Aegon said as you pressed your hands into your stomach to stop the pain caused from laughing so hard.

“I’m sorry.” You gasped. “It seems you really did want to roll in the mud.”. Aegon grunted in confusion as she held out a hand to help him up. His pride and backside already bruised enough, he gracelessly accepted.

“So… Do you come watch me train often?” He preened, trying to smooth the dirt off his fine clothes.

“Well…no. I was on my way to the Maester’s to find your sister a new magnifying glass so as to examine her insects. But I saw you getting beaten so embarrassingly, I just had to stop.”

He blushed in shame.

“You deserve that you know. I’m not just some number to add to a tally on your bedroom wall. Did it ever occur to you that not everyone wants to sleep with you?”

“Don’t you?” He couldn’t help but try, grinning sheepishly.

You smiled, but it was more condescending this time and you patted his head. Staring at you again in utter confusion, he watched you walk off. The way your hips swung in that dress, the way your hair glinted in the sun, the way that you made him feel so ashamed. But also strangely aroused.

That night in his bath, Aegon attempted to rub you out of his mind while he rubbed furiously at well, his dick. But his release eluded him as he thought of how you teased him again and again. He was so close to the edge but his hand seemed pathetic compared to the soft pout of your lips. Groaning, he sank back down into the water. Now thoroughly cold and miserable.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The third time Aegon tried to impress you, it was at a tournament held in the honour of his younger brother‘s nameday. The entire royal household was assembled in a grassy meadow as you watched the men assemble their armour to go kill some great goose or moose or something so as to revel in their masculinity.

Bored, you joined Helaena where she sat cross legged on the earth, tracing the wings of an iridescent beetle in her palm. Aegon caught sight of you and waved. He actually waved.

Helaena squinted into the sunlight as she tried to figure out who was flapping their arms so furiously at you.

“Is that my brother?”

“Unfortunately.” You groaned, covering your face in exasperation as he refused to get the message.

“I know you’ve had an affection for him since we were small, you know. It seems he feels the same way.”. Gaping, you looked at your friend. She was extremely observant when it came to her bugs but often neglected to notice the small gestures between people you took for granted.

“Really.”. She said drily. “You are both quite obvious.”

“I know. But he’s just such a twat! I mean all the women, and the drinking and the preening and the posing! It’s so infuriating how he’s always swishing his hair and smiling!”.

“Yes.” Said Helaena bluntly. “You seem utterly uninterested.”

You groaned again as the man in question strode out to where you sat.

“My lady! I shall catch a fine beast in your honour and together we shall feast!” Aegon said with flourish. Without even giving you time to pick your jaw up the floor, he galloped off merrily.

“Well, whatever happens between the two of you, make him work for it.” Said Helaena as she turned back to her little ones, and you again struggled to find any words.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

It was some time later, when you came across Aegon again. It was late in the evening, the hunting party had returned. But the prince had mysteriously not been with them.

You had been walking back to the tent in which you were sleep that night, “tent” being an understatement for the leather hides mounted on poles to cover you and sumptuous furs spread on the floor.

Aegon was sat on a tree stump. Pouting furiously as he kicked the stones under his feet. You approached him from behind, quietly so as to hear what he was grumbling about.

“Just wanted to catch a damn quail or something to impress her, and I couldn’t even shoot a squirrel!” He cursed to himself.

“You know those things really don’t impress me. Neither does inviting me to suck your cock in the gardens or falling on your face so frequently.”

He jumped out of his skin. “M-my lady! I didn’t hear you coming!”

You sat on the stump next to him, looking out at the sky. It was a cloudless night and the stars seemed to wink at you both, little pin pricks of light against the inky oblivion.

“How can I impress you then?” Aegon spoke quietly. “You don’t seem to act like most woman I know.”

“What because I don’t fall to the floor to suck your cock?”

“Well. Yes!”

“Have you ever tried even talking to me before? Just the two of us? About something other than yourself? We used to talk about everything, when we were younger.”

He sat quietly, contemplating your words. What you had said was true. He had acted like rather a prat to be honest. When you’re used to getting everything you want, the world seems a lot harder to understand as people tend to orbit around, instead of directly interact with you. And here you were, colliding with him.

“I’m sorry. I keep trying to be someone else but I’m not sure I know how.”

“You don’t have to be someone else.” You said softly. “I just want you.”

He looked at you, again throughly confused. “Even though I’m an absolute twat?”

“Especially because you’re a twat. And a pig, and a flirt and in insufferable idiot.” And with that you leant in and kissed him.

His eyes bugged open in confusion at the feeling of your lips against his. But you deepened the kiss as he tried to open his mouth.

“Please.” You smiled. “Don’t talk.”

“Now that I can do.” He grinned and returned the kiss as he grasped your waist and pressed his body against yours.

The kiss continued for what felt like an age, but like it could never be enough. His tongue was soft and questioning at first, while yours was passionate and hard. His hands remained frozen at his side as you broke apart and smiled at him. You placed his baking hands on your breasts as you undid your corset and stays.

“I want you to feel me.” He gulped nervously but seemed to find some resolve and went back to kissing and nipping at your breasts intensely. How was it that he had slept with so many women and had no idea what to do around this one. His cock was hard and aching in his trousers, but his mind could not be less focused on his own release.

He slowly sank to his knees in front of the stump, kissing up your calves as he stopped above your knee and looked at you questioningly. You smiled reassuringly and nodded, before he started licking at your inner thigh and you were unable to do anything but moan uncontrollably.

Aegon slowly kissed around the edge of your underwear, mouthing at your soaking core before tearing off the undergarment and tossing it to the soft earth beneath him.

He ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough of how you tasted. Sucking your clit into his mouth he looked up at you as you shook and writhed. You cracked open an eye and looked at him.

“Why did you stop?” You gasped out as your heart hammered in your chest.

“I just wanted to make sure this is what you wanted.”

“Aegon, you idiot. I’ve loved you ever since we were ten years old and you pulled my braids.”

“If I remember correctly, you then pushed me down onto the dirt and then made me eat a mud pie.”

“Well” You said. “I’d be happy to make it up to you.” You reached to unfasten his trousers but he put his hand out and stopped you. His hand squeezed yours as he looked into your eyes. “Let me. I have all I want right here.”.

You nodded as he immediately went back to licking at your core. You gasped as he nipped your clit slightly and then again when he breached your entrance with a gentle but firm finger. The pressure of three fingers inside of you, stroking your walls, combined with his unrelenting attentions on your clit made you cry out as you felt a strange feeling deep inside you.

It felt like a dam breaking after a flood, like everything between you had been washed away as your release trickled out of you and onto his shirt.

Coming out of your high, you realised he was still fully clothed and surely his back hurt from crouching over for so long. You opened your mouth as if to apologise, when suddenly his lips stopped you.

You tasted your cum in his mouth and the sweet bitten-raw lips that you had bruised earlier. Looking into your eyes, he smiled.

“C-can I?” You said and he looked to the ground sheepishly.

“Ah… I’m good. You suddenly noticed the wet spot on his trousers and remembered how he had rocked himself against your leg like a bitch in heat.

You smiled and pulled him into your lap. Kissing him sweetly, you felt something fall out of his pocket and onto the forest floor. In the moonlight you could see it was a dried daisy chain.

“How did I get this lucky? ” You mused and he placed a finger over your mouth; “I want to spend the rest of my life asking you that question myself. If you’ll let me.” He finished nervously and you knew in that moment that you were home. Not at the Red Keep, not in Highgarden but here with your prince wrapped up in your arms.

A/N: part two is up and down below!!

[somanyratsinthewalls]

A Little Funny Business (+18)

Pairing: Buggy x Afab!Reader

WC: 3760

Summary: As a Warlord, you’re always being invited to prestigious Marine Events. With your insatiable sexual appetite, you use these events as a hunting ground for your next prey, and tonight you’re feeling a bit… silly. 

Warnings: Bisexual cunty BFF Mihawk, Alcohol consumption, Face Sitting (HONK), Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Inappropriate use of Devil Fruit Powers, nervous Bugs, Missionary, unprotected sex (bad idea!), cream pie (worse idea!), spitting, multiple orgasms, porn with a lot of plot for no reason. 

*authors note* I saw someone ask a few weeks ago for more fics about Buggy being a huge loser and I was a little inspired by that LOL he's such a dork wow

MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

——

“And why do I need to come to this again? I have much better things to be doing than rubbing elbows with those fools.” Dracule ‘Hawkeye’ Mihawk was lounging in your parlor chair with his  boots kicked up on the glass coffee table, the large glass of red wine you had offered him swirling in his hand. He was your best… friend? As a fearsome pirate, no one had friends, per se, but he was probably the closest thing you had other than your own crew. 

“Because…” You emphasize while you throw on one of your dresses from behind your changing curtain. “I’m in the mood for a romp and if I can’t find someone I think can satisfy me tonight, I might as well bring along ole reliable.” You peek over the top of the curtain and shoot him a wink. Over the years you’ve known each other, you and Mihawk realized that you have incredible sexual compatibility but the thought of being in a committed relationship repulsed you both. 

Mihawk rolls his eyes at you. 

“For future reference, it’s not sexy to tell a man that he’s your second choice.” He smirked as he sipped his wine. He was indifferent, he just liked to poke fun at you. “So who do you have your eyes on, then? Another Admiral?” He teased.

You scoff as you exit the curtain in a red plunging, halter, backless gown with a slit up nearly to your hip. “After Aokiji? No way. His hands were so cold I felt like I was the the doctor’s office.” You give Mihawk a twirl, gesticulating at your dress. “Thoughts?” 

Mihawk takes another sip of his wine. 

“You look like a whore.” He smiles slightly and quirks up an eyebrow at your body. You turn around to face yourself in the mirror. You grin. 

“Perfect.”

— — 

Upon docking your ship at the upper-class Marine town where the ball was being held, you slipped on your jacket and heels and made your way to the banquet hall. You made sure to arrive fashionably late, to make your presence known once most of the attendees have already gotten comfortable in their cups. 

“Miss Y/n, I can take your coat, please allow me.” A dinky little pink-haired Marine Cadet gently shuffled your coat off your now bare shoulders. 

“Aren’t you cute, thank you dear. Keep it warm for me, hey?” With a wink you slipped a one-thousand berry note into his uniform pocket. 

“Y-y-y-yes! Of course, Miss! M-m-my pleasure!” The young cadet sputters out while hurrying off to hang your coat. 

You square your shoulders as you saunter into the extravagant banquet hall filled with important men and women. The hall had vaulted ceilings with beautiful skylights and the walls were adorned with gold appliqué and candelabras. You feel the eyes of many on you as you stroll towards the bar. 

“A gin martini please, up, extra dirty.” The bartender nods at you and begins mixing your cocktail. You reach into your purse for your pocket mirror and lipstick and reapply the gorgeous shade of red that matches your dress. After stowing your cosmetics, your drink was ready so you reach out and touch the martini glass. 

“Really? The Marines can’t even spring for chilled glasses?” You furrow your brow at how cheap the government organization had gotten lately. You hear a low chuckle from the man next to you. 

“Allow me.” You hear him say. Suddenly, as if by magic, a frost of ice begins to form from the bottom of your glass to the very top. Realizing who was standing beside you at the bar, you smile. 

“I wondered where you’d made off to. You never called me back, you know.” Admiral Aokiji looks down at you. 

“I do know. It’s nothing personal, Admiral, but keep frosting these glasses for me and I might just change my mind.” You wink and stroll back to the rest of the party with your drink. 

After scanning the crowd you see Mihawk seated at a table with a few others. He was hard to miss… he just had to bring that eyesore of a weapon everywhere. You take the seat next to him and put your drink on the table. 

“I miss anything good yet? Did the fishmen get here? They always make it weird.” You question Mihawk. 

“No, painfully boring as expected.” Mihawk swigs from his drink. “At least it’s an open bar. Have you found your ‘soup of the day’ yet?” He inquires about your hunt for your next sexual conquest. You laugh out loud at his phrasing. 

“Hah! Not yet. Old man Garp looks kind of nice lately though…” You say looking over your left shoulder at the vice-admiral who was paying attention only to the roving stewards with trays of meat-heavy appetizers. Mihawk crinkles up his nose slightly. 

“He looks like he bites. Not in a good way.” The two of you make eye contact then snort into your drinks trying to hold in your laughter. 

“Ah, my friends! What a pleasure to see you both!” A booming voice caused both you and Mihawk to turn around in your chairs. A massively tall, blonde, sunglasses-clad man was sidling your way. 

“Oh gods, why him? I thought for sure he wouldn’t make it…” Mihawk whispers as he takes a huge gulp of his drink. 

“Ugh.” You turn back towards the table, hoping he would just go away. 

“Is that any way to greet an old pal?” DonQuixote Doflamingo laughs as he muscles his way in-between the two of you. 

“Doflamingo.” You beam up at him with the fakest smile you could muster. You extend a limp hand which he takes in his much larger one. He licks his lips before he kisses it. “Couldn’t be bothered leaving that gaudy thing at the coat check?” You nod your chin towards his ridiculous hot pink jacket. Doflamingo chortles. 

“Always such a charmer, y/n. What does a King have to do for you to join them in his bedchambers tonight?” He licks his lips again. Still smiling at him widely, you respond. 

“When I say that I would rather cover a sea cucumber in sandpaper and-“

Doflamingo leans over you, trying to intimidate you. 

“You’re rejecting me? You must think I won’t kill every single one in here and then-“ 

Mihawk rises and pushes a hand against Doflamingo’s massive chest. 

“Wait until she has a few more martinis. She’s much more… adventurous. Speaking from experience… friend.” Mihawk dispels the situation with ease. Doflamingo huffs and heads off to converse with some Marine Higher-Ups. 

“He’s going to actually kill you one day, you know.” 

“I’d rather fight him than fuck him. He’s insufferable and you know it. Fucking bird brain.” You snap at Mihawk as you take the last sip of your drink. You notice Mihawk’s drink is empty as well. “Get me another drink, will you love?” You smile sweetly at the swordsman. 

“You’re lucky I can’t say no to you.” Mihawk grabs your empty glasses and leaves for the bar. You take this opportunity to scan the ballroom for potential lovers or anyone interesting enough to even have a conversation with. You were starting to regret even coming… when you overhear two marine captains chatting near you.  

“Who invited that guy?”

“Bro he’s a warlord now, can you believe that?”

“No way… he’s so… lame?”

This piqued your interest. You looked in the direction they were gesturing in. There was a man who had just arrived at the event, one you had yet to meet in person. This gentleman was wearing a slightly dirty orange fur jacket with a matching giant, orange pirate hat adorned with blue and green. What you noticed immediately, though, was his large, round, red nose. 

“Buggy the clown, nice to meet ya. It’s me, Buggy, the clown. The Genius Jester, Buggy the Clown, yes that’s me. Captain Buggy, pleasure to meet ya.” The silly looking man was shaking hands like he was running for office. It was corny and he was clearly out of place. You found yourself smiling at his awkward behavior. After pandering to the crowd, the clown eventually seated himself at a table across the room with a glass of whiskey. 

“Your martini, my lady, just the way you like it.” Mihawk returns with a new martini for you, unfortunately not chilled. 

“Thanks. Say, what do you know about the circus guy?” You nod in Buggy’s direction.

“Oh him? We have an old mutual friend. He’s an idiot. Everything good that’s ever happened to him he’s stumbled ass-backwards into it. I give it a week or two as a warlord before someone’s killed him for his spot.” Mihawk explains. 

“Interesting. I’ll be back.” You stride towards Buggy’s table at the opposite end of the ballroom. Without asking or saying anything, you take a seat right beside the clown. 

“Hi.” You lean on your elbow on the table with your head tilted to the side. 

“O-oh, Hi! You’re uh- um- y/n!” The clown stutters out, startled by your sudden appearance next to him. 

“Mhmm…. And you’re Buggy… Captain Buggy.” You look into his sea-glass colored eyes. 

“Y-yes! I am Captain Buggy the Clown. A powerful warlord of the sea!” He nervously chokes out at you.  You giggle. 

“Yeah, me too. So…” You draw circles on the table with your finger. “What brings you to some stuffy Marine function like this one? Doesn’t really seem like your speed.”

“Uh… The free food and booze, honestly.” 

You laugh. Buggy’s posture becomes less stiff and uncomfortable. 

“I’m glad we’re here for similar reasons, Mr. Clown.” You raise your martini glass in his direction. Buggy raises his whiskey and clinks his glass to yours. 

“Please, y/n, call me Buggy. Mr. Clown was my father.” 

Maybe it was the gin talking, but you found yourself laughing out loud at his stupid joke. You both finish your drinks after your toast. 

“Hey, y/n… wanna see a card trick?” Buggy pulls a crusty old deck of cards out of his coat pocket and starts shuffling them. Your eyes widen, not expecting this man to be fully committed to the clown bit. 

“Fuck it, show me.” 

Several minutes of shuffling and slight-of-hand go by before the clown pulls a Queen of Hearts out the deck. 

“Is this your card?” He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“No fucking shit!” You slam your hands on the table, genuinely impressed that he had picked your card. 

“Hah Hah! Told ya!” Buggy laughs as he finishes his drink. You notice his empty glass. 

“Let me get you another drink. Don’t go anywhere.” You wink as you grab your glasses and turn towards the bar. After ordering and receiving your two drinks, you spy Mihawk at the end of the bar facing outward. 

“So, how’s the plight of the huntress going? Anyone that you-“ He starts as he brings his drink to his lips, but you cut him off. 

“I’m going to fuck the clown.” You say with a deadpan expression. 

“Gods, y/n, what?” Mihawk chokes out after he spits out his drink. 

“Yep. See you!” You don’t give Mihawk a chance to criticize your choice before you walk off. You bring the drinks back to the blue-haired clown and sit down, pulling your chair close to his as you sit. 

“Thanks!” Buggy takes a big gulp of his drink, noticing that your knees are now touching his. “So… uh… y/n? I gotta ask… with all these big wigs here… why are ya talking to me all night?” 

You sense his insecurities. Cute, you thought. 

“Well, Buggy,” You emphasize his name. “Unlike you, I am not new to this game. And since I am not new to this game, frankly, I am bored. All these stuck up, no-fun, corporate dickheads make for a very boring party.” You grab his hand that’s clutching his drink on the table. “You however…” You stroke your thumb along the back of his glove. You could see a drop of sweat slide down his temple. “You are fun. I like fun.” 

Buggy giggles nervously.

“Heh, well, uh, t-thank you. You’re… you’re f-fun too…” He uses his free gloved hand to rub the back of his neck. 

“Do you wanna see how much fun I can be, Captain Buggy?” You cock your head to the side and place your other hand on his knee. Buggy’s eyes blow so wide you thought he had seen a ghost. 

“I-… I- Um… Ah!” He jolts as you slide your hand up his thigh, further trying to get your point across. 

“Want to come back to my ship with me, Buggy?” You lean and whisper in his ear. 

“Yes! Of course I do! Now? Can we go now?” He stands up. You laugh. 

“Follow me, funny guy.” 

— —

Buggy follows you all the way back to your ship like a lovesick puppy. Trailing behind you and asking you all kinds of questions and oversharing about himself. You board your ship and lead him into your luxurious captain’s quarters and close the door behind you both. 

“Wow it’s really nice in here, y/n! Who does your…-mmph!” Buggy is cut off by your lips smashing against his as you push him against the closed door. 

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and kiss him deeper. You feel smooth gloved hands wrap around your waist as he finally kisses you back once the shock wore off. Your lips move slowly together at first. Buggy is awkwardly trying to find a rhythm, but after a few moments he feels confident enough to walk you backwards and push you both onto your plush pink comforter. Now laying down, you wrap your legs around his hips, effectively hiking your dress up and exposing your panties to him. Buggy pulls back breathlessly and looks down at you. 

“Uh, so, uh… I-I don’t do this a lot… A-Are you sure you want to-?” His brows are furrowed and his eyes are full of uncertainty. 

You bring your hands up and remove his hat and tossing it to the floor, smoothing his long blue hair off to one side. 

“Buggy. I want you. Please.” With your last plead, you bucked your hips upward to grind into his hardened bulge. Buggy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

“Fuck! Okay, okay, okay- let’s get this thing off you, hey?” Hurriedly, Buggy lifts your already hiked up dress over your head leaving you fully exposed except for a red lace thong with a little wet patch right over your hole. His eyes dart from your naked breasts to your long legs to your clothed sex, before you snapped him out of it. 

“I think you have too many clothes on.” You jump up and slide his jacket off of his shoulders and then lift his shirt off his head as he takes off his trousers and boots. Not wearing underwear (you smirk at this realization) he was now naked in front of you. You grab his face with both hands and pull him into a passionate kiss. He falls on top of you again. But during your heated make out, you roll him over so that you’re on top, grinding your lace covered cunt against his hard cock. 

“Y-y/n! Ah!” Buggy moans out lewdly, and he isn’t even inside of you yet. Perhaps knowing he wouldn’t last long once he feels your warm insides sucking him in, he pleads with you.

“Let me taste you, please, y/n. Wanna make you feel good on me…” He was so desperate, it was so cute. You giggle.

“Aww, you’re so cute, Buggy. Of course I’ll let you have a taste. Now open wide baby…” You shuffle your way up to his face and straddle it with your body facing the headboard. You grip your panties and push them forcefully to the side, exposing your slick pussy mere millimeters above Buggy’s waiting mouth. You fully seat yourself down on his face, knowing he could take it. He was a warlord now, after all. 

“Mmmpph!” Buggy swirls his tongue experimentally around your slit, groaning at the sinful taste. He laps and sucks up and down your cunt until he eventually finds your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you when he slurps it between his lips. 

“Fuck, there!” You throw your head back in pleasure as the man below you learns what turns you on and how to bring you to that edge. “Just like that, fuck! Keep going!” He enthusiastically licks at your clit harder with your praise. He moves to slip his tongue into your hole, you sigh out and wind your hands in his hair below you. Instinctively, you push your cunt onto his face, trying to force his tongue deeper into you when you hear-

HONK!

You gasp as all motions on your sex stop and you look down. Nervous, anxious eyes look back up at you from between your legs.

“Buggy… baby…” 

“Y/n I-“

“Baby that’s so hot.” You were panting down at him. His expression became one of even more confusion. “I want more. Do it again.”

Buggy was in shock. There’s no way you were really saying his nose was… sexy? It was turning you on? You had to be joking. There’s no way that you-

Buggy’s thoughts were cut off by you pushing your pussy down onto his mouth again, whining and begging for more of his tongue. 

HONK!

“Please baby? Make me cum on that handsome face of yours.” You gasp out as he resumes his ministrations on your swollen clit. You close your eyes and moan loudly. You feel two hands massaging at your breasts, and you snap your eyes open to see two disembodied hands at your chest. 

“Shit, yes! I’m gonna- ah!” 

With a final pinch of your nipples and a harsh suck to your clit, your orgasm rips through your body and you shriek out and grab the headboard in front of you for balance. Shudders of pleasure still radiate through your body as you hear Buggy’s hands reattach to his body and he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He cradles your face and kisses you deeply. You moan at the taste of your release on his lips. 

Buggy pulls back from the kiss. 

“D-Do ya still want to-?” Buggy asked, hesitantly, like he didn’t just let you ride his face. 

“Gods, yes. Fuck me.” You sighed as you slipped your panties all the way off and laid back on the bed with your legs spread. You were wiped from your orgasm, but your hole was still aching to be filled by the clown. He climbs on top of you and smiles a wicked smile. 

“Get it nice and wet for me first, kay?”

Suddenly you feel something velvety and hard tap against the side of your mouth. You glance down and see Buggy’s detached cock prodding at your kiss-bitten lips. You mindlessly obey and open your mouth and allow Buggy to slide it onto your tongue hands (and body) free. You wrap your lips around his shaft and try to suck it in as far as it will go down your throat. 

“W-wow doll, you really are somethin’!” Feeling himself already losing it at your cock-hungry expression, he pulls himself from your lips and attaches his spit-soaked cock back to his body, positioned at your dripping hole. 

“Just fuck me already, Buggy!” You grab his ass and push his hips into yours. He gets the message and swiftly bottoms out inside of you, the sloppy wetness of your saliva and arousal making it easy to slip right in. His long blue locks are splayed over his bare shoulders that stutter as he tries to compose himself now that he’s fully buried in your hot sex. You groan out, finally feeling him fill you. 

“FUCK, y/n!” Buggy leans forward and bites deeply into your neck, still trying to steel himself. Thinking this would keep him from cumming immediately, it had the opposite effect. When you felt his teeth in your neck, your cunt clenched on him so tight that it triggered his orgasm. Buggy’s eyes roll back and he muffles his moan. He can’t let you know that he came so early. 

Fighting overstimulation, he shallowly starts thrusting his hips into yours. Buggy whimpers at the feeling of his oversensitive cock gliding through your slippery, now cum-coated walls. 

“Harder, fuck me harder, PLEASE!” You were begging him to rail you, and he knew he had to give it to you. Hearing you plead made him fully hard again immeasurably quickly. Buggy places one hand on your hip and angles himself to thrust upwards inside your cunt. 

“That’s so good baby, please, right there just like that, you’re doing so good for me.” You slid your left hand down and rubbed your clit in tight circles. 

“Fuck, let me…” Buggy slaps your hand away to replace it with one of his now detached hands. He slows down his thrusts enough to drop a glob of spit down onto your clit and start rubbing it himself. 

“Bugs, fuck! Gonna cum! Ah, shit… yes!” You jolt upwards and waves of pleasure start overtaking your body. Buggy fucks you through your orgasm and picks up his pace. He attaches his hand and now places both hands on your hips to slam you onto his cock at a breakneck speed.

“Gonna fucking make you mine…. All mine…”

“Ah- yes- yours- fuck-“ You sputter out incoherently as you bounce back and forth against the bed on Buggy’s cock. 

“There it is baby… yes-!… ” Buggy slams his hips into yours deeply and empties himself for a second time inside of you tonight. After catching his breath in the crook of your neck, Buggy rolls off of you and lays his head on the pillow next to yours. You both make eye contact and start laughing. 

Buggy eventually rolls his body into a sitting position and rises from the bed. He begins picking up his belongings and tries pulling his shirt over his head. You sit up and look at him, while pulling the blankets over your body. 

“You’re not staying?” You inquire of your clown lover. 

“I-I wasn’t… I mean I wasn’t invited to sleep- sleep over? You know? I didn’t want to-“ He stutters out, his shirt on, dick still out in front of you. You giggle and flop back on the bed. 

“Get in here. I may be tired now, but I might want to see what else those chop-chop powers can do in the morning.” 

Buggy strips his shirt again and hops under the covers with you. 

“Doll, you haven’t even seen the half of it.”

xx 

[alottiegoingon]

totally my fault

lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: after winning the state championship, you and lottie decide to celebrate it by baking cupcakes for the team and it goes awfully amazingly wrong.

warnings: fluff, lottie being a brat, reader is a yellowjacket, established relationship, characters are aged up and in college, the yellowjackets are also in uni, reader and lottie being awful bakers, nsfw content (mdni), vaginal fingering and oral (lottie receiving), praise kink?, cursing, reader being slightly mean during sex but a softie overall, prob a bunch of english mistakes

you were beyond excited! the yellowjackets had won one of the most important matches ever, the one that would decide if you guys would go to the nationals. it wasn't very common to see many women playing soccer and you were more than proud to be part of the team and also prove everyone how you were just as good as the stupid boys from wiskayok high. (you guys were so much better).

to celebrate, you and your girlfriend lottie decided to bake at your place after practice. even before meeting lottie, baking was your thing. it first started as a way to have fun as a kid, creating new recipes and seeing the results of it. you would feel like doctor frankenstein wearing pigtails. then, as you grew older, it became a way to deal with every single feeling of yours. happy because you did well in a test? brownie day. upset because you got grounded? that's okay, you didn't need tv when you could have warm cookies coming straight out of the oven.

"shit, we forgot the cupcakes!" you gasp, practically jumping out of the couch to run towards the oven. you and lottie had just put the first batch of vanilla cupcakes in the oven and decided that it was a good idea to put something to watch on tv. except that thid was at least half a hour ago and lottie's messy hair and your puffy red lips made it very clear that paying attention to the screen was the last thing that you guys were doing.

you step into the kitchen and you could barely see the oven. the entire kitchen looked like a cloudy storm and the alarm would probably go on if it had taken you a few extra seconds to find out. lottie was right behind, hiding like a scared little kid, when you open the door and immediately stepped away to avoid inhaling any of the thick smoke. you quickly put on the gloves and desperately took the burnt cupcakes from the oven to place the tray on the counter. "maybe they are still edible." lottie whispered, peeking from over your shoulder. you slowly turn your head around to face her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

maybe it was your girlfriend's fault. you couldn't focus and think straight when she was wearing that cute blue uniform right on your couch. but you also couldn't blame her entirely. lottie matthews had money. a lot of money. and thanks to that she had daddy issues and a bunch of people designed to do whatever she wanted to. a butler, a housekeeper, a maid, a private chef. that girl had an assistant by her side since she was a baby. you would never see lottie doing anything that someone else could do for her faster and better. that's why you decided to bake at your house. no pair of extra hands to help except for your own and things were doing pretty well until you were practically devouring her mouth.

"it's really not that bad, look!" lottie was still trying to convince you even though the cupcakes were darker than the grey baking pan. "we could decorate it with some blue and yellow frosting and the girls will love it!"

"yeah, they will. until they take a bite and decide to expel us from the team after we attempted to poison them." your words came out in a sarcastic tone but you weren't mad. it was actually quite funny to imagine how the girls would react to that. Besides, the desperate attempt of lottie's to fix the situation was adorable. "it's okay, lott. it was just a silly mistake. we still have some batter left." you comfort your girlfriend by gently pressing your lips against her forehead.

thankfully, there was enough batter in the bowl to give it a second try and lottie was eager to prove that she could do things by herself. she didn't need help to do such a simple thing as baking. that's why you let her step in, patiently waiting for her to fill the cupcake paper cups using a tiny spoon. she spilled a bunch between a cupcake and another but you were still proud. being completely honest, you would still be proud even if she burned your house down to the ground.

you would be even prouder if you weren't distracted again. you had your back resting against the wall while lottie was slightly bent over the counter. she was too tall for that. you definitely weren't looking at how that shorts could make her legs longer or how her ass seemed much bigger today in this position. you really tried to look away. you did! but lottie wouldn't stop moving her body and seeing that focused expression on her face while she was biting her own lip was slowly driving you crazy.

"what do you think? do you think that this is good enough?" lottie forces you to leave your own thoughts when asking for your opinion. she was staring at you with hopeful eyes and it took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize that she was talking about how the paper cups were filled. you barely took a look at them before shaking your head in agreement almost immediately, feeling your cheeks getting warm at the possibility of lottie noticing how you were staring at her as if she was a piece of meat. "y-yes! those are so good, baby!"

lottie looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and slightly parted lips, ready to say something. you weren’t the best at hiding your feelings and especially not from lottie. your girlfriend had the power of knowing exactly what you were feeling and could read you like an open book. “are you okay? are you… sweating?” lottie’s focused expression shifted to a smug smirk on the corner of her mouth. you actually were. the edges of your forehead were already glistening with sweat and your entire body felt like it was being burned by flames.

“i’m fine. just finish those so we can put it back in the oven.” you did your best to sound convincing but the panic in your eyes thanks to the millions of thoughts about different ways to fuck your girlfriend was making it evident that something was wrong and lottie knew exactly what it was, but she didn’t say anything.

instead, she just agrees briefly, not looking to fond of your lie but not caring enough to confront you. maybe you could pull it off, you thought to yourself. but then, thanks to lottie using the tiniest spoon she could find, she ended up spilling it all over the edges and groaned in frustration. except that the groan sounded a lot like a exaggerated whine and every single sound that lottie made had a deep impact on you.

"okay, that's it." you whisper and immediately moved away from the wall to walk towards lottie, making the loud noise from your heavy steps echo through the kitchen. you didn't care if it was a complete mess, you would deal with it later. you grabbed the pan and threw it inside the oven, slamming the door hard enough to make lottie's eyes widen. but when you look at her, she isn't scared or confused anymore, she's smirking.

"is that funny to you?" hissing, you place both of your hands on lottie's hips to spin her around and make her face you. you push her against the counter and you notice how her breath was already catching in her throat. "hm... kind of." lottie shrugs. she had the dirtiest smile ever on her lips.

you clenched your jaw at the same time as lottie let a weak and whiny moan out caused by your fingers unconsciously gripping her hips tighter. "is that what you wanted? you wanted to be treated like a slut?" you growled while pushing yourself further against lottie even harder to make sure that she was trapped. your eyes were completely filled with lust as they would mirror lottie's. her smile vanished and she was completely speechless. she couldn't say a word even if she tried to.

"what? you were brave enough to tease me before but can't say anything now? so pathetic." you mock your girlfriend while your hands were busy with her body. your fingers were digging into the covered skin of her waist now as your other hand moved up to her neck. your fingertips first scratched the sensitive skin in a slow pace, being a bit too rough once or twice, before you had her jaw wrapped into your hand. you made lottie look straight into your eyes, waiting for an answer impatiently.

"y-yes..." lottie speaks in a broken whisper. with no warnings, you lift your right leg up just enough to make your bare knee in contact with your girlfriend's core. even covered by the fabric of her uniform, you could feel her warmth. a gasp comes out of her lips and it sounded like music to your ears. you pushed it further but stood still and your fingers let go of her jaw to hold her neck tenderly. lottie's body was covered in chills. "please..." she whines.

"aw, lott... i don't think you deserve it." your voice is calm and soothing but you're not exactly being sweet now. there was a kind of confident arrogance hidden under it. you leave her neck to run your fingers through her messy dark hair. after every single practice, lottie's hair would go wild no matter how tight her low pigtails or ponytail was and it was the hottest thing ever. you absolutely loved it. "but i'm very proud of you, so maybe..." you move your knee just an inch or two to the side and lottie immediately squirms against you. she had nowhere to run.

lottie closes her eyes and her lips slightly parted when you begin to move your knee and put more pressure on it. you could feel your skin getting damp by your girlfriend's wetness and it only made you want to rub your leg faster. lottie was an absolute whiny mess. her hands were gripping the counter behind her, desperately trying to hold onto something for support. her breath was heavy and coming out in short shallow bursts while her squirming hips were moving on their own. you had to keep them in place by holding firmly onto them and your girlfriend wasn't very happy. her eyes were drowning in anticipation when they opened to stare into yours.

"more..." lottie manages to spill her words in a breathless beg and you knew exactly what she wanted. here's the thing about lottie; ever since you two started dating and you found out that she was a touch starved girl, she became obsessed with your fingers and it's not like you would complain about it

you played with the hem of her clothes for a few seconds just to tease your girlfriend as long as you could, slowly removing your knee. in a swift move, the palm of your hand dig inside the plaid shorts that she was wearing, touching her exposed pelvis. lottie moaned quietly at the sight of your fingers disappearing between her legs. your firm fingertips slipped down slowly until they met the wet and warm spot still covered by the last remaining thin fabric. "god... you're so wet already." you whisper feeling like your own body was boiling and lottie whimpers softly at first feeling your light touch. she knew that. she could feel it already running through her thighs.

your hand goes even further this time underneath her panties and you finally feel her soaked pussy against your fingers. lottie held her breath when she felt how easily it was for you to touch her. she squirms again and this time you don't stop her. her legs were slightly trembling from so much tension and pleasure combined. "does it feel good, angel?" you whisper gingerly with a mischievous little smirk on your lips, knowing the answer for that. it's not like lottie's increasing moans that were filling the entire kitchen weren't already an answer to your question. lottie doesn't say anything but desperately nods.

your fingers found their way into her puffy clit and began to rub slow circles straight away. lottie's hips jerked carelessly searching for every extra crumb of your touch that she could find. her lips were fully parted now and the only sound she could do were based off in whiny moans and pathetic little sounds of how well you were fucking her even though you had barely started.

you took your time while touching lottie. your fingers were slippery like soap when rubbing her pussy and the squelch sounds that would come out of it was too much for both of you. "you look so pretty like that... such a good girl." you murmured right against lottie's ear, knowing very well that praising was one of her biggest weakness. lottie moaned louder and you noticed how her legs were shaking harder now, that's not how you wanted her to cum. "hold on, pretty girl. not just yet." you press your lips against your girlfriend's cheek and before she could blink her shorts and panties were on the kitchen floor and you had your hands gripping tightly on her waist to lift her up and make her sit on the counter.

"jesus christ, y/n..." lottie exhaled when she realized what you were about to do. her eyes were shining with desire. your hands touched her thighs and spread her legs wide open. you almost fell backwards when you saw lottie's glistening folds and your mouth was suddenly full of saliva. you wrapped your arms under lottie's thighs and pulled her closer to you, making her body half bent as her hands were support her weight by holding the edges of the cold counter. your tongue met her pussy, exploring every inch of her patiently before going back up to focus on her swollen clit. lottie was seeing stars and she couldn't keep her whimpers and moans to herself even if she wanted to. her hands moved straight to your head, getting lost between your hair strands and pulling you closer to her dripping core.

lottie's stomach was contracting and releasing over and over again just like the rest of the muscles in her body and it only got worse. while your tongue was moving eagerly and frantically, you placed your left hand on her inner thigh at first just to move it further and play with her entrance for a couple seconds before shoving two fingers inside of her. lottie screamed your name and you feel her insides clenching against you. "d-don't stop!" she begged and it only made you thrust your fingers relentlessly in and out of her, curling them up exactly on her sensitives spongy spot.

"oh god..." lottie squirms and you roughly fuck lottie through her orgasm, looking up to see the expression of pleasure in her face while still eating her out with amusement. her eyes were rolling back along with her toes curling and her hips were rocking along with your fingers. her chest was moving like crazy at the same time she was fighting for her life trying to breath properly. you hear a loud animalistic moan escaping your girlfriend's lips as she tilts her head backwards and tightens her fingers around your hair. you could taste her cum in your mouth perfectly.

you both were so lost into each other that the unpleasant odour of burning cupcakes went unoticed and just like a clock right on time, the loud beeps of the smoke alarm went off making you both flinch. lottie starts to giggle as she realizes what just happened and you pull away from her core with a cheeky grin and a husky voice.

"okay. this time was totally my fault."

[tocomplainfriend]

It feels less like you want to address a real life problem to characters, but more like you want to have another of your characters you constantly baby and want others to fangirl over.

TW: Rape, SA, Racism, Stereotyping, Homophobia, Acephobia, Arophobia.

The representations of topics in media DOES affect real people.

Fiction can affect reality.

Let's start easy, Jaws. This goes back to Hazbin I promise.

"Since the release of Jaws in 1975, the world has witnessed a staggering decline of 71% in shark and ray populations, and around 100 million sharks are killed each year." (including multiple practices of mass hunting sharks in competition)

Both Steven Spielberg and the original writer Peter Benchley regret the movie and book. It's a big reason of the shark treatment, when it started by old fishermen worrying about shark biting people in the beaches they made money of.

Even if you aren't a shark killer yourself, a lot of things you believe of sharks are untrue myths that come from making sharks "evil" human killer animals. Sharks cannot smell blood from miles away, that's not even how water works, the particles of blood need to enter their nostrils. Sharks are not man eaters, they attack other prey animals before human. Shark attacks are extremely rare, even if they happen they are not justifiable to kill all sharks.

Sharks actually have personalities they can fit in, they are smart and recognize people and boats- and form positive relationships with people. They can even like getting pet by people.

Other level to represent other thing sin media that affects reality we can address Queer, representation as a topic.

I hope it is not a surprise for you... possible non-straight, non-cis person reading this. That the constant representation of gay man as kid predator is a problem. They used old commercial (PSA) to spread negative views of gay man. Media is used to spread messages and affect its viewer. This is, there are cartoons created by Jehovah witness (or similar religions) to spread their beliefs and teach to their children in an easy, digestible way.

Same with the amount of straight woman that went off to read shitty yaoi manga and fetishy gay wattpad stories, and went to sexualize and diminish queer men. Constantly making gay man's personality into bottom or top (uke and seme shit). I witness this irl, others have too.

Same with shitty men that view Lesbians as a porn machine for men, cause "monkey brain like woman, lesbian = two women". Which happens in general and adult media. All of these are EASY examples.

Another one which turns out many people don't think about. Having your representation of an AroAce character (on purpose or not) be the psychopath with no feelings. Associating the not being romantically or sexually to means you have no heart, to be abnormal, by then a psychopath. An abuse or serial killer.

Fiction does affect reality-

A racist film, 'Birth of the nation' Revived the KKK and let to all the discrimination, and the homicide of black people of centuries ahead.

-

Coming back around, how you treat the topic of SA, and r-pe- affects the real world. You would think someone who wrote that, had in mind on how that affects people in real life. Didn't you want to represent victims of SA/R-pe that are sex workers and male?

Reducing the r-pist, pimp, trafficker character to an air head to treat as silly is crazy to do. Specially as... oh idk... the creator? Both this and the tweet of the voice actor calling Val "Bubbles Coded" is so crazy. The character is also not deep enough by itself, it's pretty much Stupid and a R-pist sex trafficker. The tweet below Viv's fucking kills me too.

The fact Val is shown to be air head stupid doesn't delete he backed Angel (and by being a sex trafficker and a pimp, and him licking charlie that means he has multiple victims) into a corner and under his control. Too then abuse of him in many different ways. Manipulations are not only done by Super mastermind people, and representing it in such way diminished, affects people who have being manipulated and actually try to question if they have being or not. Manipulators can be normal, average people, they usually are not obvious. Even if Val is openly a shitty person that's really obvious, it doesn't detract from him being manipulative to people. The scene where Val threatens him in chains that is manipulation, his text messages are manipulation (even if you think it is too obvious to be successful).

How you represent SA/R-PE, and its perpetrators, do affect real life.

Going around and having your "serious R-pe episode", to then go in other episodes or the other series you are writing to make r-pe/sa jokes is terrible. For the person that directed the whole scene of poison to NOT be r-pe/sa victim (said by themselves) with a r-pe fetish with this character's in specific, to directed in the most graphic way possible is awful. To go around babying your r-pist character is crazy.

Hope you understand that this doesn't mean not treating any topic at all. Creators should be awere on how they treat topics and the scenarios they create with them, too. People and viewers need to also put their brain to understand the media they consume. But you can't always put all blame only on the viewers of a series, if media is messy is a fault of the media. You can criticize both.

You need to acknowledge Valentino is indeed a terrible person, You don't need to delete his actions or the weight of them.

I also just know that a lot of Val fans just like him to draw him in r-pe art and get their fetishized gay ship. Cause that's what they are into. You won't even do that with a woman, because you are into your fucked up fetishized gay porn from wattpad you never left behind.

If you like him, FUCK IT, just please take his abuse seriously. Don't default your entire usage, and view of the character to be 'uwufied' fandom stuff, please.

I hate how the topic has being treated, in and out of the show. I'm a victim, and I'm hurt by how these things are treated and knowing how it affects others. Even in things I haven't watched! Don't make the argument don't like it? Just don't watch it. The movies from the video of SA of men being a joke, many I haven't watch- that still affects over all. It's still a problem and it's disheartening.

Also have this:

[ccalhoun]

≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

carlisle cullen x gn! reader n.sfw abc's! warnings: gender neutral reader, human reader, sub/bottom reader, dom/top carlisle, smut/nsfw, vampires/blood mentions, small parts of twilight lore, various kinks im too tired to write out wc: 1.5k cut for length!

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

extremely caring, always. he is a doctor after all! he'll bring you water and a snack if you need it, and he'll insist on carrying you to the bathroom afterwards even if you can walk fine, he'll make sure you pee to decrease risks of uti's and run a shower (or bath, depending on how hard he went ;))

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

his favorite body part of his would most likely be his hands, he adores the way you squirm and whine when he fingers you, or the way you instantly listen to whatever's he's saying when he grabs your chin, how could he not love his hands when they made you so happy?

his favorite body part of yours is your neck, he feels guilty over it but every time he's close to you, head buried in your neck and shoulder as he's fucking you, all he can think about is how sweet your blood smells and how close he is to it. how easy it would be to just bite you and taste the red liquid that was no doubt the sweetest thing he would've ever tasted in his hundreds of years.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i think carlisle would be fine with cumming anywhere, he would never want to make you upset or uncomfortable so if you set a boundary he'll do nothing but respect it. but he 110% prefers cumming in you. it just feels more intimate, and he wants to be as close to you as he can possibly get

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he wants to feed from you, he would never tell you this or even think of it while around you! however, when it's been awhile since the last hunt and he's feeling needy the only thing that can seem to fill his brain is his lovely little mate sleeping soundly in the bed he bought and put in his room just for you. and the part that makes him feel even more guilty? it makes him insanely hard to think about how hard you'd cry if he were to feed from you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

he is VERY experienced. he has been alive since before your great grandma was even a thought. he's had more than his fair share of pleasing both men and women, he knows many techniques and him being a doctor he knows every part of your body better than you do! combined with him carefully studying your reactions while he pleases you? he could have you cumming in seconds if the circumstances were right.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves any position that you love, he's probably tried just about every position and could recommend a few that he knows would increase your pleasure or make you more comfortable.

his preference definitely depends on how he's feeling, if he wants to be closer to you or is just feeling affectionate he'll either go with spooning or missionary. if he wants to be a little bit more rough, he'll definitely do face down ass up as he likes the control it gives him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

carlisle would lean towards a bit silly in the moment especially if you have anxiety or are just nervous. he wouldnt want you to feel intimidated or scared! if you ask him, he would be completely serious but he's carlisle for gods sake, nothing can prevent his adorable smile from shining through.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

very well groomed, most likely wouldnt be clean shaven as vampires cant grow hair and i cant imagine a doctor being ok with no pubic hair even if he doesnt have to worry about getting diseases.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's very intimate and caring, he would lay out rose petals and light candles if you were comfortable with it. at LEAST once a month he'll make you let him pamper you, cook you a nice hot meal, run you a bubble bath, and listen to your every demand. no matter the time or place, he will always be as romantic as he can be when it comes to you!

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesn't like jacking off, he wouldn't unless you asked him for whatever reason. he has extreme patience from living for nearly 400 years, he will always wait until the next time he can meet with you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

doctor/sir kink, breeding kink, possessive kink? it makes him embarrassingly horny to think of you belonging to him, not much of a kink but he always wants to hold your hand when he cums

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere, as long as its with you. but, if he had to choose, probably your bed since it's where you seem the most comfortable and he always wants to pamper you!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

just you, smelling the scent of your blood when you get closer, your voice, your eyes, your smile, anything could get him going as long as its you. if you want him to get into bed asap, just say anything about you being his and he'll take you away before you even know he picked you up

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

hurt you. he could never forgive himself, even if you asked for him to be rough he would never do anything to cause you any pain. his heart drops when you get a papercut, he didn't even want to think about what he would do if he was the cause of your pain.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

definitely prefers giving, he'd never say no if you offered to suck him off, but before sex he has to eat you out until you cum at least once, preferably twice if you'll let him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he finds the perfect pace for you, listening to your heartbeat and picking up on every hitch of your breath, staring at your face intently to see any slight changes to indicate what feels good. if you ask him to go faster or slower of course he'll listen, he'll do anything you ask

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he hates quickies, he wants to take his time making you feel good. if you're not somewhere where he can take his time but you want to have sex, he'll just pick you up and run you home.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he knows more than anyone that some experimentation is healthy! he'll try anything you want at least once, and because of his heightened senses he doesn't have to worry about getting caught!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can go as long as he wants, because he's a vampire he doesn't need any time to recover after an orgasm and he has a seemingly endless supply of energy.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he'd be willing to use toys, he doesn't have much experience of his own with toys but if you told him what you want to try he'd buy it for you, money is no issue for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he LOVES teasing you, he can't help it. seeing you whining and desperate for him, and if he can get you begging? he'd become even more infatuated with you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

naturally, he isn't very loud, mostly small grunts and groans. if you confessed that you like hearing him, he'd be willing to let go more and let more sounds slip out. but he does love your noises and he'd be lying if he said he didn't control his volume to be able to hear more of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

loves making out with you, it feels so intimate to him. just holding you and kissing you for as long as either of you want. of course, he'll give you time to breath where he'll kiss your neck and let your breathing stabilize before kissing you again.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

big, very big. as a human he was more of a grower, but as a vampire it's at his full human length plus an inch at all times. so about 7 inches, and GIRTHY.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

very high, higher than any human. he could go for days if he really wanted to.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

obviously can't sleep, but he loves watching you sleep after. he's fine with letting you sleep while he cleans up everything. you look so at peace when you sleep, he could stare at you for hours, and he does. ≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

[neroushalvaus]

No wait let me talk some more about Bridget Jones and how despite all of it's faults I think it's a positive movie for women in general and fat women in particular

So yeah, Renée Zellweger is not fat. While I think we should not forget that she was still body-shamed in media for the slight weight she put on for the movies, she was never fat or even "chubby". It is obviously a problem that in the first two movies she is constantly treated as fat when she never was. But even thought I do not like it, that is how it is. And in the Bridget Jones cinematic universe, Bridget Jones is seen as fat. As someone who is not desirable, who is embarrassing to date and who should constantly feel ridiculous for daring to exist in the world.

And you know, when you grow up fat, you learn that you need to compensate for the crime of being too big. Especially when you are seen as a woman. You need to be smart as a whip, and funny and entertaining to be around, and talented in so many ways, and you may never be clumsy because when a fat girl falls down, the first reaction is not "are you okay", it's laughter. And you may not have standards. If a guy likes you, consider yourself lucky. You can't be too loud or annoying because you already take up too much space. When it comes to looks, you must excel at femininity. You must wear make-up and have a beautiful face and lovely eyes and you have to wear clothes that compliment your body, that draw the attention to your breasts and hips. You must always be ready to be sexualized because that is the closest thing you can get to having your body accepted.

And then there is Bridget Jones. She drinks too much, she smokes too much, she talks too much and I love her with every fiber of my being. Look at how they dress her in the first two movies. Look how they style her hair. The clothes are often ill-fitting, the hair is messy and flat. When she goes to parties, she tries so hard to look good but never looks like a typical romcom lead. She is reaching towards femininity and falling face first into mud. She is crass and has a weird sense of humour and she always says the wrong thing in every situation.

But she is sincere. She is loved by her friends, she is desired by several men (and one woman) and she is allowed to have standards. The first movie's plotline with Daniel Cleaver is so good in this regard. Daniel sends Bridget sexual texts, sleeps with her, never says he loves her and then he cheats on her. Do we laugh at how silly Bridget was to get her hopes up when she thought this guy played by Hugh Grant could like her when he never said he did and obviously only wanted sex? No. We focus on how hurt Bridget is. And I love the scene where Bridget is with her friends and Mark Darcy when Cleaver comes to apologize. He comes through her door and seems surprised she's not alone, waiting for him. It is her birthday. Of course she is with her friends. Who you would know exist if you cared about her life at all, Daniel. And you know, then he apologizes and doesn't wait for Bridget's response, he just assumes she takes him back. Because how could she possibly do better? And after Daniel and Mark have their legendary fight for Bridget's affections and Bridget tells Mark to piss off, Daniel just assumes this means Bridget has chosen him. Because a woman like Bridget needs to have someone to make her feel less like a waste of space, right? Which makes it delicious when Bridget counters Daniel's pathetic little love confession "If I can't make it with you then I can't make it with anyone" with "That's not a good enough offer for me". She is still looking for something more extraordinary than that.

And she gets it!! I can not stress this enough! She is seen as a fat woman who isn't brilliantly smart, isn't polite or suave, is clumsy and crass and socially awkward, and can't cook anything but blue soup and marmalade and is a hot mess express in general, and the archetypical romantic hero, literal Mr Darcy falls in love with her just as she is. Bridget never needs to become smarter or less awkward or less clumsy, she is loved and treasured just as she is. That is why I have loved her for twenty years.

[arabaka]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ uzui tengen x fem!reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! written with the intention of being canon-divergent: tengen is in his early 20s when you marry and either you will be the only wife or the first (so no mention of the 3 wives here). term "bride" is used. virginity loss (and mention of sex hurting). unprotected sex. creampie. AUTHOR'S NOTE: tbh, i'm not a huge fan of this but i didn't work for hours not to post this lol so pls be nice... WORD COUNT: 3.1K PSD CREDIT !!! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED !!!!!!!（ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ

Marriage, it’s a means to an end for the women in your clan; how useful can you be if you’re not bearing children, and lots of them, to ensure that the livelihood of your bloodline (or rather, your husband’s) stands the test of your time? Affection is hardly guaranteed, intimacy only a factor when you’re underneath the man you’re promised to. You know this, were raised with this idea in mind. The very notion of love is an afterthought.

You aren’t expecting it. Did not think it would come to you, no matter who you were to wed. So as you’re seated, posture nice and proper, with your treasured koto lying in front of you as evidence of your many talents, you expect your heart to be tame when your betrothed walks through those doors.

So imagine your surprise when your heart betrays you, thumping at a rate you’ve only experienced during your harsh and diligent kunoichi training, when a certain Uzui Tengen, strongest of his family, strides in your line of vision with an aura unlike anything you’ve ever sensed before.

You feel silly, fingers trembling for a man you know only by his name on your tongue. It’s a sickly sensation, your stomach folding in on itself with nerves you didn’t count on. You nearly forget to bow, not wanting to tear your eyes away from the magnetism the man exudes for even a second but your mother is kind enough to press a firm palm to your back. You always thought she would want this more than you, but now you’re not so sure after coming face to face with someone the likes of him. 

Tengen grew up largely the same, if we are on the topic of principle alone. Children in the Uzui household are raised to care for aptitude and strength, not each other. Bloodshed is more common than a kind word. But while his father tried to hammer away the notion that wives are only good for childrearing and nothing else, Tengen couldn’t help but feel that his heart would sing for a woman to call his own.

A hope that comes to fruition the moment his eyes land on you, that very song he always longed for reaching a crescendo when you bless him with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. 

So the questions the faction head goes through end up mattering little in comparison to your answers. Every word, Tengen clings to. Even when you play the koto, fingers daintily and precisely plucking the strings to orchestrate a tune Tengen wants as his personal lullaby, all he can keep his eyes on is you. 

The attraction between the two of you is as sudden as it is all encompassing. You have never entertained the thought of love, much less love at first sight, yet here you are, completely and totally enamored with a man you hardly know. 

You didn’t think you would get swept up like this, didn’t think this passion would overtake your heart so easily and so strongly but you suppose this is fate and you aren’t about to question the gift it’s plopped onto your lap.

The clan leader is just about to take back the reins on the meeting, declare that a further review would take place, when Tengen pipes up loud and clear, with a fire in his eyes you would soon grow accustomed to.

“No need! This will be my bride!” 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and it is throbbing. He sounds so sure, looks even more so with his brawny arms crossed over his puffed out chest and you can feel your vision wobble, his entire visage and the intention of his declaration striking you right where you sit. And with that, you refuse to allow any moment of silence to cross the room, for fear even a second could cost you the marriage. Your volume is on par with Tengen’s as you cry, “It would be my honor! Please,” You bow before the man, forehead kissing the tatami mat below when you continue, “bless me with the privilege to live alongside you for as long as either of us shall live.”

Those words… You mean them, can feel your tongue fanning the flames of your soul, embers burning bright for the man you are determined to make your husband. And it’s a role he is just as eager to take, having resolved to claim you since the moment your eyes met.

And he tells you as much when the two of you are finally alone, after the arrangement is all said and done.

“Come here.” Unlike your first meeting, Tengen’s voice here is tender and soft, a hand of his outstretched as he beckons you to come into the room the two of you will now share as husband and wife. Dressed in a nighttime garment with his hair down and face clean of any distractions, it’s no wonder you hesitate, in awe of the beauty of your spouse. You catch yourself staring, cheeks basking in newfound feverish warmth but your husband simply laughs. Not at you, not at your expense, but because you’re just too damn cute.

Your intention is to sit beside him, but Tengen has other plans. Not content with the idea of being apart from you any longer, he captures your hands in his and pulls, guiding you onto his lap. He feels your legs buckle and squirm until you’ve adjusted to the thick muscle just underneath his robe. This may be as foreign to him as it is to you, but it sure doesn’t seem like it. Must be the confidence that seems to come with everything Tengen does, like the grin he’s giving you right at this moment.

“Comfortable?” He asks, just as he runs a large palm down your spine until resting firmly on the small of your back. He cocks his head then, white tresses framing his strong jawline and you feel your heart rattling from his effortless charm. And to think, you have this man now and forever. It’s supposed to be daunting to a degree but this climate is nothing like the arranged marriages you’ve heard about in the district. Where you’re supposed to feel constrained, you feel cradled. Where you’re supposed to feel obligation, you feel true desire. 

“Mmhm,” Your hands travel from your body to his, walking up his torso and stifling a breath when you feel the firmness of his pecs waiting underneath his garb, “Very.” You notice the slight quiver in his chest on an inhale; it would be indiscernible to anyone else but to someone of your caliber, someone trained to analyze even the most minute changes in another person’s body, it’s all too apparent. “And you?” You feel called to touch more of him, fingertips trailing towards his center and dipping beneath the hemline of his clothing. 

He revels in your touch, craves more of it actually but Tengen is also enjoying the simplicity of this initial contact. You’ve inspired him to explore more of you, letting his other hand wander up your arm until it sweeps over your clavicle. He’s thoughtful in the way his thumb brushes strokes along the bone, admiring the finer details of your form. “Very.” He repeats, crimson eyes flitting to meet yours and you swear, you lose even the most basic skill of breathing just then. 

You realize then, just how close the two of you are. It should scare you, the intensity of this position but you can only think of wanting more when you look at Tengen’s strong features, the flare burning and circulating his pupils.

“Tengen,” You breathe, “Do you believe in fate?” 

He offers up a smile before moving his fingers up from your neckline until he has his thumb pressing down on the surface of your chin, the rest of his fingers crooked underneath to gingerly move your head, allowing him to admire your features from every angle. “Of course.” He sounds so certain, “How else would we have met?”

His words, they’re so sweet they litter goosebumps on your skin. But he doesn’t stop there. The pad of his thumb is now at your bottom lip, squishing the skin so he can watch the delightful way color drains from it. Your teeth poke out just a tad and you hear a soft rumble in the base of his throat, a groan he’s barely able to restrain at how delicious you look. “You need to know, I don’t do anything half-assed. I don’t take anything that’s beneath me.” You follow his direction, your head tilting to the side and god, he could just eat you up. Looking as disheveled as you do, hair flowing in the same direction with the collar of your garment starting to slide down the slope of your shoulder. 

You notice the pivot in his gaze, feel a tremble in your bones when he starts to speak again, “And what I do take…” You feel pressure on your back, Tengen working to close the gap between you two at last and all you can do is follow, desperately craving the same thing. “Is what I treasure.” 

And at long last, your lips touch, the hand at your face now withdrawing only for it to land squarely on your thigh, squeezing the supple flesh that awaits him there. You sigh, following suit and finally letting your fingers curl and grip knots into Tengen’s robe. You’ve never kissed, never known it could feel this good and it’s a high your brain won’t soon forget, even if your movements are naive and at times, clunky. 

When you part, it’s only for a breath. Tengen milks the opportunity though, drinking in the dazed look in your eyes, the gap between your lips as you try to find satisfaction apart from him. He knows what he wants, knows what he needs and that is to kiss you more.

You desire the same, knees at either side of Tengen’s body starting to cave in as the urge for more, more, more starts to overwhelm your very soul. You swoop in, kissing Tengen and stealing a glance at just the right moment so you can watch those pretty eyes of his flutter shut. His lips, they’re as firm as the rest of him but when he kisses you, it’s with a fondness you’ve never felt in your life. A care you’ll only ever want from him.

One kiss turns to two, then three until it’s like you’ve only known how to kiss him your whole life. The moment, it starts to feel so good that you unknowingly start to sink deeper into his lap, squeezing a throat groan from the man that you part your lips to swallow. You have to have more so your tongue crosses the threshold, sliding along his until the spit starts to trickle out the corner of your mouth and coat your lips in a glossy sheen.

Do you know what you’re doing to him? Do you understand that you’re reducing a man as strong as he into a melted mess? You feel his nails start to dig into your back, mimicking what you’re doing to his chest and you whimper. Not from pain, but from pleasure.

You don’t know when it happened, but you’ve stopped rubbing yourself on his meaty thighs and started grinding on the very prominent outline of his hardened cock. And now that you’ve started, you don’t want to stop. So you keep bumping yourself against his girth, keep winding yourself up and down, up and down over its thick weight because it sparks to life a tingling pleasure you’ve never imagined.

Tengen tries to grin into the kiss but he surprises himself when all he can offer up is a needy groan. What a little minx you’ve become, he should have expected this show of force but the surprise only quickens the blood flow to his shaft and you feel it, experience the twitch bouncing between your folds. He reminds you of the hold he has on you, one hand deepening the arch in your back while the other at your thigh starts to direct the rhythm of your hips. “Let me have you. Let me have all of you, my bride.” He growls so intently into your mouth that all you can do is nod your head and let his hands get to work.

“Need to see you, hold on.” Tengen’s back to the floor and you on top, he ushers you to come to a seat under his shaft so he can see how far up his long and heavy cock will go inside you. The sight is beautiful, perfect even as he bends his knees so you have something to recline on. The way he starts to pivot his pelvis, running the length of his shaft up your tummy is driving you mad. You’re so wet, it’s dripping onto the base of his member and he trembles once the droplets start to run down his fat and full sac. “Shit, you’re this wet for me? Come on, show me that you’re made for me.”

With that, you pick yourself up, giving yourself enough space to position his leaking tip at your entrance. The head of his dick is wide and swollen. Driblets of his pre-cum start to slather along your folds and as you start to lower yourself, you learn that his length, his width, is going to be a challenge.

But when have you ever turned down a challenge?

“Come on, that’s it.” Tengen’s hands find themselves latched onto your hips, the veins running down his knuckles making themselves known as his grip grows tighter and tighter. He watches your expression, takes note of how your twist and your brows furrow as you stretch for him and he starts to whisper gentle praises, telling you that you’re doing so good, doing so well for your husband.

And it’s like a cork pops when he finally gets the tip in. A whimper escapes you, as does a pant as you struggle to take him. You’ve known pain, trained for it even but this… He’s just massive, you feel like he could split you in two if either of you aren’t careful. Your gummy walls convulse, trying to adopt to the intrusion as best it can as you start to lower yourself inch by inch. 

“S-Shit. You could keep it there and I’d– Fuck.” Tengen throws his head back, crown digging into the mat while he stills himself inside you. Even though you’re clenched around him so firmly, you’re still dribbling your juices onto him, slathering him in your essence and he’s only a little past his glans inside you. “You’re so damn tight.”

When did you start drooling? When did tears start to prick at your waterline? The sensation of Tengen filling you out is all you can think about and even though it hurts, you want to work through the strain. “Is– s-so big, T-Tengen.” You whine and it shocks you, the frailty in your voice.

His head picked back up, Tengen can’t believe what he’s seeing. A bump is starting to take shape the more you sink down his cock, the evidence that he’s well inside you on a beautiful display for him. “You’re doing great. Taking me so fucking well.” You have him hissing, incapable of taking on a tone any louder than that– a true feat for the man with a voice that can command a room.

So he watches you with bated breath and the edge of his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as you take him right to the end, your ass coming to a snugly rest on his upper thighs. Neither of you move just then, wishing to enjoy the moment as it is.

You’re shaking, your entire body rocking on Tengen’s burly muscles and even though all he is doing is flexing his cock inside you, you paw incessantly on his chest. “T-Tengen…” 

He coaxes you to lower yourself, draw close to him so you’re chest to chest. Close enough to kiss, so he does. “Gonna move a little.” Accenting his words is the slow roll of his hips, the rigidity of his member expanding further into your core and while it still aches, you’re starting to weed out the bits and pieces of dizzying pleasure within. “This is all I need tonight, baby. Just this.” Tengen nibbles on your bottom lip, narrowed eyes still on you even as you kiss.

The nod you give is lazy, all your energy drained by every tremor, every squeeze of your cunt. “T-Tengen, t-touch me– t-touch me here.” You mewl, saliva dripping into your husband’s mouth as one of your hands shakily takes his. You mold his hand, direct it to cup your sopping heat. “P-Please, please, please.” 

You’ve never begged. But for him? You’ll do anything.

Huffing because every exhale turns into a stifled grunt, Tengen’s thick fingers start to run motions along your little bundle of nerves until he gets to a routine of toying with your clit. He follows your moans like a song, paying attention to what movement makes you sing the prettiest. He kneads your sweet muscle, swiping some of your slick and coating your clit until it too is drenched.

Lashes kissing and eyes rolling back, you begin to meet Tengen’s ruts as if it comes to you naturally. That’s what it feels like anyways, because you keep driving your hips back so expertly it must be instinctual. You continue at this pace for a while, your motions languid and his penetration deep. 

“Gonna cum,” Tengen suddenly grunts, rocking you forward so your forehead ends up docking against his, “and it’s gonna be inside.” This isn’t a question. This isn’t up for debate.

And you’re okay with that.

“Y-Yes, plea-please.” 

Pressure builds in his thrusts, he’s fucking into you with more strength but with the same speed and that’s just what he needs before you feel him emptying his hot and heavy load into you. It’s passionate, the kiss he gives you as he fills you up and makes you nice and wet for him to pump the remaining spurts of his seed. “Hnnghh, fuckkkkk.” The thunderous moan has you trembling, your hole spasming around your husband’s cock as you too start to feel an overwhelming wave of bliss wash over you.  It’s amazing how gentle this boisterous, big man can be as he helps you off his cock, so much of him leaking out of you almost instantly as he does so. And it’s amazing, how he massages your stomach afterwards, soothing your various muscles for all their hard work. And it’s amazing, how at home you feel, in his arms and against his chest, falling asleep to the chorus of his heartbeat after a long, long night.

[redysetdare]

No you're so right I fucking hate the "aces have it so much better than aros" part of the community. Just because more people know the word asexual than aromantic doesn't mean aces are treated better than aros by the society?? More people know the word asexual yes, but they don't really understand what it means to be on the asexual spectrum, and they try to paint us in the worst light possible. That's like saying binary trans people have it much better than nonbinary people, or trans women have it much better than trans men due to more visibility. Some people in the aro community want there to be a hierarchy of non-aro aces > aroaces > non-ace aros so bad because they just want to be acephobic and get away with it. And they're barely even hiding that anymore nowadays.

Sorry for this angry rant, sometimes it just feels like everyone, even other aspec people absolutely despise aroaces.

I really need people to acknowledge that a group being more visible does not make them more accepted or better treated than a group that is invisible. You think we'd learn this after this argument has been used against so many identities but noooope. I guess not. The thing is that visibility can still be bad because being visible to your oppressors just makes you an easier target. the words homosexual, gay, and lesbian were all known way before asexual and you know what that visibility did? it mostly got them targeted and attacked - especially by laws and the medical field. Autism is a label that's been known for decades and people STILL treat Autism like a bad word and a terrible thing to be labeled.

People are just starting to figure out the word asexual and they are using that to actively target asexuals. The Ace discourse era around 2016 was AWFUL and it was because people learned the term asexual and decided we were just "Straight people trying to be special" or "incel freaks" or "Just sad virgins" It was considered cool and fun to mock and harass asexuals. it was common for people to create fake ace blogs to make us look bad. There are still dog whistles being posted around that mock and belittle asexuals that people treat as silly jokes. People still tell aces to shut up and not complain. People who harassed aces of tumblr act like their part in the ace discourse era was just a quirky little thing they did and not a genuine issue that they refuse to acknowledge and any ace who brings it up gets told to get the fuck over it.

It ignored the fact that asexuals have the highest stat in conversion therapy. it ignores the stat that corrective rape happens majority to asexuals. it ignored the fact that many asexuals end up getting broken up with or divorced for being asexual because so many people are unwilling to compromise in a relationship that isn't sexual. Many Aces feel forced to have sex with their partners because not doing so gets them labeled as abusive. Asexuality is still considered by most doctors to be a disorder that needs to be fixed and so it can be dangerous to bring it up lest your doctor actively try to focus on it as a main issue. Therapists assume your asexuality is a trauma response and may aces have to keep their asexuality under wraps lest their therapists start to focus only on that instead of their other issues. Yes, people know the term asexual. But that does not mean they Accept asexuals. some people use the knowledge of that term to target and attack asexuals.

No one has it better. we all just face different issues and to claim one group is some how more accepted than another is naive at best and outright malicious at worst and genuinely some of these people are getting way to close to repeating ace discourse era arguments and it's really getting to me because the call SHOULD NOT be coming from INSIDE THE FUCKING HOUSE.

[reashot]

RWBY Politically Incorrect Podcast.

Episode: 3. Finding Cult in all the wrong places.

Yang: Welcome everybody to another episode of RWBY's Podcast. I'm your host, Yang. And on today's episode I want to talk about Jaune and his sex cult.

Jaune: It's not a cult, Yang. All the girls and me are in an equal polyamourous relationship.

Blake: Yeah, sure "equal" and you just so happens to be the only guy in this poly relationship?

Jaune: I didn't want to in the first place. They all just formed around me for some reasons.

Weiss: And why is there so many girls around you in the first place?

Jaune: It's rather silly but they've been so nice to me that I can't tell them to leave me alone.

Ruby: Reasons aside. How does it even work exactly with you and so many women?

Jaune: Oh it's not that complicated really. I just listen to their needs and wants, help out whenever I could and sometimes even do something just for them.

Yang: Not that! We're talking about how you able to do it with so many women?

Ruby: Yeah! Spill the beans vomit boy!

Blake: I must say I am curious about how Harem actually works. *cough*

Weiss: Geez, Blake if you want to jump on his dick just go ahead and do it.

Blake: I'm just being curious you ice bitc....

Jaune: Okay! Please don't fight I'll tell you. But I'm warning you it's not like what you think it is.

*sigh*

I never have sex with any of them. I'm still a virgin....

Yang: But you just said you're in a relationship with multiple girls! You telling me you never bang a single one?

Jaune: I mean how could I? At first I'm just doing it to help a girl in need. One thing leads to another and suddenly they all worship me like I'm some sort of a God. I don't want to take advantage of them after all.

Ruby: By Oum you are lame!

Jaune: Yes I know...

[cuubism]

Hey just wanted to say you're not a killjoy at all, you're actually absolutely correct

Thank you, I wish I didn't have to be 😔 I wish we lived in a world where gender equality was so long solidified that we could make silly jokes like that and not have it inadvertently feed into real world misogyny. I could see a world where women's inequality was so far in the past that 'ugh i wish i could just have someone else pay for everything' could be a funny #relatable 'we all hate working' kind of joke because everyone understood we don't actually want dependency. But that's not this time period when so many people genuinely believe that a woman's place is only in the home, and when young women might see that joke and believe that giving up their independence is a good idea or that women fighting for the right to equality in employment was a mistake. It inadvertently feeds into the rising tide of misogyny and points people towards those "traditional values" influencers that really push the idea that women should (god i hate the phrase "women should") submit to men and that their only valid life path is being a wife and mother. Especially when algorithms tend to push people down alt-right rabbit holes, like, even my insta feed is full of trad wife fundamentalist christian content because I hate watch it and then the algo feeds me more 😂 that's on me really I should just block all those accounts.

I mean, I sympathize, I hate my job sometimes too, I think everyone would like to have a life where they didn't have to work 40+ hours a week and had more leisure time. Unfortunately we live in a world where money by and large equates to freedom. So my go to complaint isn't wow I wish I had no life choices and was dependent on a man for my livelihood! when I'm irritated about work 😂

A lot of the content made by younger women online recently seems kind of regressive in its approach to gender roles, "i can't do this i'm just a girlie" and so on (I'm aware it's a joke, but oftentimes stuff starts as a joke and then reaches people who don't see it as one), and I worry about us backsliding. I'm concerned by young women idealizing the Trad Wife lifestyle, not knowing their history and how dangerous a position it puts women in. I'm concerned by the 'stay at home girlfriend' trend, possibly MORE dangerous for how it lacks even the meager property and alimony protections of marriages. I'm concerned by the increasing gendered political divide and radicalization of young men, the way misogyny has become more and more virulent and loud and normalized over the past few years. The way women's rights are being rolled back with even more restrictions being pushed by the Right in an attempt to hold onto power and maintain their hierarchical worldview.

We need feminism more than ever right now, and additionally I think we all need to reclaim it from radfems and terfs. The word has become too associated with them, to the point I fear people are afraid to call themselves feminists for fear of it being misinterpreted, and I'm sick of it, why should terfs get to define it? Especially when our rights in society are all entwined. Reproductive rights--an issue that doesn't solely impact women but does disproportionately affect women--arises from the same root issue of fundamental bodily autonomy as does trans rights. Moreover the existence of trans and nonbinary people reinforces gender equality because if gender and sex are malleable, not fundamental and binary, then upon what basis is the oppression of women? How can one claim that women are less than men, or that women and men 'should' hold such and such roles when even the role of 'woman' or 'man' is not discrete. I hope terfs can come around to seeing that.

I don't believe in policing people's online activity unless it's like actually threatening hate speech, so I'm certainly not going to tell them they can't joke how they want. I just hope they think about why that's where their mind goes when they don't want to work, instead of wishing that society didn't work people to the bone, that people had more leisure time, that jobs were better and more meaningful etc. I hope they think about the women around the world who are still denied education and denied the right to work and forced to depend on their family or husband with no freedom or autonomy, and how much work it took women in the past to even get where we are, and how much there still is left to do.

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things 13 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: brief meltdown; subdrop/panic attack during sex; death of guardian (not wayne don’t worry); grief; mentions of child abuse & childhood trauma

“No, I’m just saying you’re turning into a slut,” Robin says lightly, her voice garbled from the gummy bear between her teeth as she tears its head off. She’s laying on her bed with her legs up against the wall, her hair spread around her head.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know.”

“How many times have you had sex now?” she asks, rolling her head to look at him, nibbling at the body of the gummy bear now. He shrugs.

“I don’t know. A few.”

She raises her eyebrows.

He raises his back.

“Is it good?” Robin asks lightly, reaching back to the bag of gummy bears that’s resting on her belly. “You’re not getting bored of it?”

Steve scoffs, his head falling back against the wall.

“God, no. Don’t think I could get bored of it.”

She hums for a moment, looking at the ceiling.

“Maybe the guy I was with was just really bad,” she says thoughtfully, and Steve lets out a laugh. “Because it was real boring.”

“Have you considered having sex with a woman?” Steve questions sarcastically.

“Oh, yes, I have,” she says. Steve giggles, reaching over to take some gummy bears. “I just need a woman that also wants to have sex with me.”

“Hm.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and Steve thinks. He doesn’t know very many women.

“Is Nancy dating Jonathan?” he wonders aloud abruptly. “Or like…”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Robin says. “I keep thinking she’s dating Jonathan, but then Argyle will come over and kiss her to say hi, and then Nancy wears one of Jonathan’s shirts but she’s got Argyle hair ties around her wrist… I don’t know.”

“You don’t wanna just ask?”

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Not really a big deal. They’re all happy, you know?”

Steve hums and looks at the ceiling again. He thinks some more. Maybe Chrissy is single.

They’d like each other, he thinks. They’re both silly, funny in their own ways, and they don’t really match exactly, Robin’s rough flannels and mismatched socks and choppy hair that she cut with scissors in her own bathroom compared to Chrissy’s frilly blouses and manicured nails and pink lipstick. But Steve has a feeling they’d like each other.

“Do your parents know about you?” he asks after a moment. She’s quiet.

“Yeah.”

He looks at her. She isn’t eating the gummy bears anymore, but she’s holding one in her fingers, squeezing and squishing it, brushing it against her lips absently.

“How did that go?” he asks quietly.

She sighs heavily, clearing her throat.

“Uh…” Another exhale. “I don’t know. I just told them at dinner one night. Kinda randomly, I just… couldn’t keep it hidden anymore.”

“What did they say?”

Robin looks at the ceiling blankly.

“‘…Don’t tell Grandma.’”

Steve blinks, waiting for her to continue, but she just lifts the gummy bear to her mouth and tears its head off with her teeth.

“That’s it?”

“Mhmm.” She takes another breath. “We don’t talk about it. It just kinda hangs out with us, I guess.”

He looks across the room and thinks some more. About what it might be like if his parents knew. If the fact just dangled around their heads, unaddressed, ignored. If they could do that, just ignore what they would surely despise.

“Are you gonna tell your parents?” Robin asks softly, like she can read his fucking mind. He scoffs.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Don’t know if it’s worth it.”

She looks at him, lifting her chin to see him.

“They won’t understand,” he says quietly. “They won’t get it.”

She sits up. Swings her legs around to rest across his lap, letting the gummy bears fall to the side. She’s looking at him curiously, silently.

Steve sighs, letting his head fall to the wall.

“…They raised me to be God-fearing,” he says quietly. “And… pure. They raised me so, like, intentionally… good. And if I tell them, I…” Steve scoffs, laughing humourlessly. “‘Hey, by the way, I’m an atheist and I like it when my metalhead boyfriend shoves his cock up my ass and puts his fingers down my throat.’”

Robin lets out a laugh, and he half-smiles.

“They don’t have to know all of that.”

“That’s all they will know, though,” he says weakly, his smile falling. She looks at him in confusion, furrowing her eyebrows, frowning. He sighs.

“They view homosexuality as… disgusting,” he says after a moment. “It’s just sexual to them. It’s just sin on sin.”

His fingers twist together, and then he reaches for the cross around his neck, lifting it to touch his lips absently.

“If I say I have a boyfriend…” He pauses, his voice weak and soft. “They won’t think about us holding hands or teasing each other or being sweet with each other. They won’t think about…” He cuts off, his throat tightening. “About how he wipes my tears away like he’s scared he’ll break me. Or the way he pulls me closer even when he’s, like, fully asleep. Or the way he cooks for me when I mention I haven’t eaten, or the way he kisses my temples when I have a headache.”

He looks at the ceiling, blinking tears back rapidly when his eyes sting. Robin reaches and holds his forearm.

“They’ll think about us sinning,” he says weakly. “They’ll think about— about him corrupting me, or manipulating me, and— and it’s bullshit, because he hasn’t. He’s— He’s so great.”

“He sounds really great,” Robin says, and her voice sounds thick now, and he hates this, this bullshit that unites the two of them.

“They’ll never see how great he is,” Steve says heavily. Robin’s hand is warm on his arm. “They’ll never get it. They’ll take one look at him and do the fucking Sign of the Cross. I don’t…”

He sighs again, reaching over to take her hand, twisting their fingers together.

“If I tell them… I don’t know what they’ll do. But I think… I don’t know. If the love they have for me is worth keeping. You know?”

She nods. Sighs. Squeezes his arm.

“It sucks,” he says softly, whispering. “Knowing your parents don’t love you the way you want.”

He glances at her when he hears a sniffle, and there’s a tear falling down her cheek. He wipes it away, but she doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes downcast and glassy.

“It sucks,” she says, her voice breaking a little bit. “My own parents don’t love me. Don’t know who can.”

It sends a shard of glass through Steve’s chest. That Robin fucking Buckley can’t see how loveable she is, how precious. How amazing and perfect, and…

“I can,” Steve says quietly.

She looks at him, her eyes shining, gleaming, her lips pursed like she’s trying to stop them from quivering.

“…Really?”

He nods, tilting his head at her.

“You’re my best friend,” he says softly. “You’re so cool.”

She scoffs, sniffling, and her hand tightens on his, squeezing his fingers. Her eyes close, and another tear falls down her cheek, and then Steve’s eyes are burning, and he tugs her closer by her hand.

Their arms wrap around each other, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in her neck. Her shoulders shake when she sobs quietly, and he runs a hand down her back, over the wrinkles in her sweater.

And he feels kind of like he did when Eddie first started being sweet on him, touching him lightly, calling him pet names. It’s different with Robin, of course. Still warm. Familiar. Entirely platonic but somehow more.

They stay there together, arms around each other, legs tangled, as they talk. Robin tells him about every girl she’s ever had a crush on. Steve runs his hand through her hair until it’s untangled as he listens, feeling the way her jaw shifts as she talks and chews the gummy bears. The sun sets outside, the sky dimming, and neither of them moves except to flick on the lamp on Robin’s bedside.

It’s warm here. Safe. Steve lets himself exist quietly with Robin, lets himself become sleepy and giggly and a little bit childish, because she’s doing the same, wrapped in a blanket and rocking back and forth as they laugh about nothing. He thinks that even if their parents can’t love them properly, maybe it doesn’t really matter at the moment. It doesn’t really matter if they have each other.

─────────────────

Steve wakes up before the sun rises.

It’s Saturday. Eddie had been working at the Hideout, but he’s in bed now, hair damp from his shower, eyes closed peacefully. Steve looks at him in the dark, rolling onto his side to face him.

He hadn’t woken up when Eddie came back after work. Eddie must have been as quiet as possible, taking off his jacket and setting his keys down, getting fresh clothes and taking a shower, all while Steve slept peacefully in bed. He isn’t even touching Steve right now. There’s a space between them, a chasm that makes Steve ache.

He pauses, looking at Eddie. At the fan of his eyelashes across his pale cheeks, at the metal studs in his skin. At his cheek that’s squished against his hand, tucked between his face and his pillow. At the strands of hair on his skin.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers softly, hesitantly. He doesn’t expect a response, but Eddie’s eyes flutter open slowly after a moment, and he looks at Steve blearily, tiredly, his eyes not quite all the way open.

“Hm?” Eddie shifts, closing his eyes for a moment before he blinks them open again. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” Steve gazes at him. “Missed you.”

Eddie smiles sleepily, humming, lifting his chin a little bit, and Steve moves closer, close enough that their noses nudge together. Eddie exhales slowly, and Steve thinks for a moment that he’s fallen back asleep, but his arm moves, sliding from between them to wrap around Steve’s waist. His hand presses into the small of his back, and he tugs him closer.

Steve kisses him, smiling, tucking his hands between them, shrinking against Eddie’s body as their lips part. Eddie hums again, fingers spreading over Steve’s back.

“Sweet baby,” Eddie murmurs when they separate, his lips brushing Steve’s. Steve smiles again, his cheeks flushing with warmth. He sighs, nuzzling into Eddie’s throat as Eddie rubs his back once more.

He could whisper it right now. Right here. Lips pressed to Eddie’s tattooed skin, Eddie’s heartbeat against his hands.

He doesn’t say anything.

─────────────────

Steve sits on the sofa while Eddie finishes putting away the groceries.

He’d cried in the grocery store. He doesn’t know why.

His cheeks are still tacky with tears, and he feels fucking exhausted for no reason at all. All he’s done today is go with Eddie to the grocery store, and he’d managed to ignore the way the overhead lights buzzed and made his head ache, the way the squeaky wheels of other peoples’ carts scratched at the inside of his skull. Until someone passing bumped into him, their shoulders knocking together, and he just burst into tears like a child.

Eddie almost dropped their basket, setting it down and quickly, gently, pulling Steve aside, his voice hushed as he asked what was wrong, what happened, but Steve didn’t have an answer. Nothing happened. Nothing was wrong. He was just crying.

Eddie gave him the keys to wait in the van while he finished up shopping, and Steve took them quietly. He’s been quiet since. Stared out the window in the car as Eddie drove, only tearing his glassy eyes away from the world going by when Eddie’s hand landed on his thigh gently, squeezing and holding him.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as they start to sting again, his head falling to the back of the sofa. He’s tucked into himself, arms crossed over his belly, knees drawn up, and he listens to Eddie in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, balling up plastic bags and stuffing them into a drawer.

It goes quiet after a few minutes. And then the couch shifts as Eddie sits next to Steve carefully.

“Hey, baby.”

Steve opens his eyes and looks at him, rolling his head, before he lifts his head.

“Hi,” he says softly, whispering.

“What’s goin’ on?” Eddie asks gently, leaning against the back of the sofa. Steve looks away, across the room, shrugging. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Steve chokes, eyes watering again. “I just…” He shrugs, sniffling. “Feel like shit today. I don’t know.”

“What do you need?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve is quiet, shrugging again, and Eddie just waits for him.

“…Hold me.”

Eddie moves without hesitation, wrapping his arms around him tightly, pulling him close and running his hand over his head carefully. Steve falls against him, squeezing his eyes shut again. His breath shudders. Eddie hushes him gently.

“Breathe for me,” he whispers softly. “Nice and slow, baby, you got it.”

Steve takes a deep breath, reaching to cling to Eddie’s shirt, and Eddie’s arms tighten around him, his hands pressing to him firmly before one of them slides into his hair and tugs.

Steve sags against Eddie, exhaling sharply.

“Harder.”

Eddie’s fingers twist into his hair and pull so it hurts. Steve exhales again.

“There you go,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s it, baby.”

Steve whines weakly, face burning as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, but Eddie just holds him. Pulls his hair. Rubs his back.

“Just want you to touch me,” Steve says when he can speak again, whispering.

“You wanna get off?”

Steve pauses. And then shakes his head.

“Just want your hands on me.”

“C’mere.”

He pulls Steve closer, shifting to sit sideways on the sofa, legs outstretched, and Steve lets him manhandle him gently, lets him pull him so he’s laying on his chest, their legs entwined.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs. His hands run over Steve’s back gently, tracing his spine. “Good?”

Steve hums, nuzzling into his neck, hands tucked against his chest.

“Harder,” he says softly.

Eddie’s hands press more firmly, pushing Steve against him, and Steve bites his lips to stifle a groan.

“Let it out,” Eddie murmurs. “‘S okay.”

Steve whimpers weakly, pressing closer as Eddie’s hands squeeze his hips firmly. It hurts a little, but Steve likes it. It makes his mind go a little fuzzy, makes whatever is squeezing his chest so tight a little looser. He hums.

“That’s okay?” Eddie checks after a moment, his hands loosening. Steve nods, reaching back to find Eddie’s hand blindly, and he leads it down to his ass, pressing firmly. “Right here?”

Steve nods again.

“Please.”

Eddie kisses the side of his head, and his hands are strong as they press into Steve’s flesh through the fabric of his pants. Squeezing and pushing and gripping like he’s massaging his ass and his thighs, and Steve melts against him, brows furrowed as he focuses on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers on him. He presses his hand to Eddie’s chest and then slides it up to his neck, pressing against his pulse.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

“‘S, like… grounding,” he mumbles, his hand falling lax on Eddie’s neck loosely. “Like it.”

Eddie hums quietly, his voice rumbling above Steve’s head.

“Bet you’re having fun,” Steve mumbles after a moment, and Eddie scoffs, a sound that makes Steve smile.

“I definitely am.”

His hands squeezes again, and then one of them lifts and taps Steve’s ass lightly, absently, but Steve fucking lights up inside. He hums, his back arching.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, sounding a little surprised.

“Mm. Yeah. Please.”

Eddie laughs softly, doing it again.

“You want me to spank you, baby?”

Steve nods desperately, back arching again.

“Please.”

Eddie kisses his head again, his fingers tightening on his ass, squeezing hard.

“You’re so sweet.”

Steve nods absently, letting out a weak yelp when Eddie’s hand lands on his ass abruptly, hard.

“Color?”

“Green. Again. Please.”

“I got you, baby.”

He does it again. And then again. Alternating hands, rubbing and soothing in between slaps, and they’re both hard, but Steve doesn’t think it really matters. He feels like he might fucking fall asleep here, despite Eddie’s hands forcing feeling into him, despite the way particularly hard hits jostle him.

“Okay?” Eddie asks after a few minutes, hands rubbing over where Steve’s ass is blooming with warmth.

“Please don’t stop,” Steve mumbles weakly, sleepily. “Feels so good.”

Eddie’s hands squeeze tightly. And then one retreats before it slides under Steve’s pants, pressing to his bare skin. Steve whines, nodding before Eddie can ask.

Eddie pushes his pants down carefully, smoothing his hands over Steve’s ass.

“Color,” he says softly, whispering.

“Green.”

“‘S gonna hurt more without fabric in the way.”

“I know,” Steve mumbles. “‘S okay, I want it.”

“Tell me why first.”

Steve exhales sharply, swallowing the lump that’s formed in his throat, and he takes a slow breath.

“Just…” He pauses, pressing his cheek to Eddie’s shoulder, gazing at the bat’s wing around his neck. “Wanna feel it.”

“Why?” Eddie whispers.

“Need it,” Steve says, almost whining. “Need to feel it. When we were in the— the grocery store, there was too much,” he says, his voice softening. “The lights, and the noises, and my— my jacket, and the guy bumping into me, it was just… too much. When it hurts, just— just a little, I can feel it. ‘N I don’t have to feel anything else.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathes.

His hand lands on Steve’s ass with a sharp slap, and Steve jumps with a startled Oh!

Eddie’s hand smooths over the skin gently, squeezing and soothing, and Steve nods, breathless.

The skin of his ass feels hot when Eddie finally stops, rubbing his hips and sliding a hand under his shirt to press into the small of his back. Steve is shaking a little bit, breathing hard into Eddie’s neck, fists clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

“Okay?”

Steve nods, letting out a weak whine.

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. Eddie turns his head to kiss his temple, humming softly.

“Of course, baby,” he whispers. “You know I’d give you anything.”

Steve nods again, smiling.

Eddie starts to pull Steve’s pants back up, but the fabric scrapes over his no doubt reddened skin, and Steve hisses, wincing. Eddie lets out a thoughtful noise before he holds Steve’s waist, pushing him to the side carefully.

“Stay here a moment,” he says, shifting to get up so Steve can lay on his front on the sofa. Steve groans, reaching for him half-heartedly as he stands, and Eddie laughs lightly, catching his hand and bending down to press a kiss to his knuckles.

He comes back with a bottle of lotion, and he sits on the edge of the sofa next to Steve’s legs. Steve closes his eyes and sighs as he listens to the click of the bottle before Eddie's hand, cold with lotion, smooths over the hot skin. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he hums.

“So beautiful,” Eddie murmurs, leaning to press a gentle kiss to his ass. “My perfect boy.”

He pulls Steve’s pants up carefully, slowly, tugging them so they don’t slide over his skin, and he smooths out the waistband of his underwear by tucking his fingers under it and running them along the elastic.

“Maybe we need to get you some silky panties so it doesn’t hurt.”

Steve giggles into the sofa, cheeks warm.

“Could be cute.”

“It would be very cute,” Eddie says lightly. He smooths his hand over Steve’s ass gently, tenderly. “You feel okay?”

“Mhmm.” Steve sighs. “C’mere.”

Eddie moves back onto the sofa and Steve shifts to give him space, settling with his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie runs his hands through his hair and then over his back, more gently than before.

“Wanna stay here for a little while?” Eddie asks softly. “And then I can go start lunch?”

Steve nods, sighing.

“Yes please.”

Eddie kisses the top of his head, and Steve suppresses a smile, sliding a hand down to slip it under the hem of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie hisses a little when his cold fingertips find his skin, and Steve snickers.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Mm.”

Eddie plays with his hair. He breathes.

Steve likes it when he breathes. Which is probably the most insane thing he’s ever thought to himself, but it’s true. It’s almost reassuring to hear Eddie’s breath, to feel the rise and fall of his chest. Steve wishes he could listen to it all the time, wishes it could play on repeat in the back of his mind. He wishes it was possible to get a sound tattooed.

“Do you wanna go out this weekend?” Eddie asks abruptly.

“…Out?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he sounds shy all of a sudden, like he’s nervous. “Like— Like on a date.”

Steve lifts his head, looking down at him. Eddie’s cheeks are pink.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, glancing away, taking a breath. “I just… I just realized we’ve never actually been on a date, and…” He looks up at Steve, his tongue flashing over his bottom lip. “I know a place that’s… that’s, like, queer friendly.”

Steve blinks, smiling slowly.

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie smiles, tilting his head at him like he’s fond, like Steve is a cute puppy or something.

“You wanna go out with me?” he asks lightly. Steve suppresses his smile but he can’t, and it grows into a bright grin, and it’s the first time he’s actually smiled all day. Eddie’s eyes drop to his mouth, his expression lighting up like he’s realizing it too.

“Yes,” Steve says, shifting to lay on top of Eddie’s body, their legs entwined, their chests pressing, and Steve’s heart feels like it’s beating harder, like it’s trying to reach Eddie’s through their skin and the fabric of their shirts. “I wanna go out with you.”

Eddie suppresses his own smile.

“Okay.”

He lays back down, kissing Eddie jaw and then his neck, biting teasingly when Eddie’s hand tugs at his hair.

The date is on Friday. They go to a diner that’s just outside the city, on the corner of a block in a colorful neighborhood. Eddie parks the van out front as Steve looks at the building, at the glowing OPEN sign in the window. It looks quiet, a little bit empty; there are a few people sitting at the bar, sipping from white mugs and looking at newspapers and notebooks, and there are two women sitting behind one of the windows, across from each other, laughing. There’s a pink triangle on the entry door.

Eddie holds the door open for Steve, tilting his head politely as Steve passes by him with a suppressed smile, and the woman behind the counter glances up at them when the bell above the door dings cheerfully. Eddie’s hand takes Steve’s, lacing their fingers and pulling to lead him to a booth in the back.

They sit across from each other after taking off their jackets, and Steve looks around again. There are flashes of color everywhere he looks even though it’s mostly brown inside; the seats of the booths are a muted teal, and there are glowing neon signs on one of the walls, reading things like girls girls girls and soups & sandwiches. There are gumball machines and a pinball machine and there’s bunting draping in the air over the door to the kitchen. It’s made up of small American flags, but when Steve looks a little closer he realizes the flags are upside down.

When Steve looks at Eddie again, he’s resting his chin on his hand, watching Steve with a small smile.

“Hi,” Steve says shyly, leaning over the table to look at him, mirroring him with his chin on his hand.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly. “What do you think?”

Steve glances around again.

“‘S nice,” he says before hesitating for a brief moment. “You don’t think they’ll mind that…”

“That they’ve got queers for patrons?”

Steve scoffs.

“Yeah.”

“Nah,” Eddie says softly. “They don’t mind.” He looks past Steve, hesitating before he gestures with a tilting his head. “See those ladies over there?”

Steve looks over his shoulder at the women sitting by the window. They’re holding hands across the table, and their ankles are locked, and Steve can only see one of their faces from where he’s sitting, but she’s beaming so brightly it’s like she’s reflecting the other woman’s expression.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Steve looks at Eddie again, biting his lip, and he crosses his arms over the top of the table, hiding his hands. His eyes scan Eddie’s content smile, his hands resting on the tabletop and holding his chin. Steve starts to pull his hand out from where it’s tucked against himself but he stops, hesitating, his stomach flipping. Eddie’s smile grows.

“Go ‘head,” he says softly.

Steve suppresses a smile, biting his lip again as he pulls his hand away and reaches across the table, grabbing Eddie’s and pulling it toward himself. Eddie bites back a laugh, amused. Their fingers twist until Steve is holding onto Eddie’s middle and ring fingers, holding them loosely before he squeezes absently, nervously. Eddie brushes his thumb over Steve’s fingers gently. Steve looks away.

“Hiya, boys.”

Steve jumps at the sound of the waitress’s voice, looking up as she approaches their table and sets two menus in front of them. He starts to pull his hand away, but Eddie squeezes, tugging it back in place.

“Can I get you started with any drinks?” she asks lightly. She’s smiling at them, like she doesn’t even see them holding hands.

“Uh,” Eddie says, looking at Steve with raised eyebrows.

“Do— Do you have orange soda?” Steve asks, looking up at her again, and she nods before looking at Eddie.

“Ginger ale.”

She nods.

Steve exhales as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her, her shoes clicking on the floor, and Eddie squeezes his hand again.

“Hey,” he says softly, and Steve looks at him. “We’re okay.”

Steve nods, taking a deep breath, squeezing his hand.

“We’re okay.”

They only let go of each other’s hands when their food comes, and Eddie immediately kicks at Steve’s feet to prompt him to move them forward so they can lock their ankles together. Steve feels like he’s thirteen or something, his cheeks flushed with heat because his crush is touching him. It’s ridiculous. But Eddie keeps grinning at him across the table like he knows.

They get pie to share. It’s stupid. Almost embarrassing, especially when Eddie grabs a paper napkin and reaches over to wipe Steve’s chin himself. Steve rolls his eyes and snatches it from him as Eddie giggles. His lips are stained red.

Steve is fucking obsessed with him.

He clings to Eddie’s arm as they leave, no longer scared of being seen, almost wanting it now. Wanting people to look over their mugs and hovering forks to see these two boys, these two men, fingers laced, cheeks warm. Wanting people to see exactly how Steve feels, exactly how his heart beats in time with Eddie’s, how his veins are twisted and tangled in the shape of Eddie’s name.

Eddie holds his hand in the car. Steve can barely tear his eyes away from him, gazing at the side of his face, at the lines in his skin that deepen when he smiles after glancing back at Steve.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice light as he slows at a stop sign and looks both ways, leaning to see past Steve.

Steve shrugs even though he isn’t looking at him.

“I really like you.”

His voice is small.

Eddie’s smile widens.

“I really like you too, baby.”

Steve squeezes his hand, grinning, and he sighs heavily, waiting. Eddie pulls his hand away from Steve’s to turn the van into the parking lot outside his building, and Steve whines petulantly, which just makes Eddie laugh.

“Gimme a second, honey.”

Steve sighs, waiting, and he could swear Eddie is doing this on purpose, pulling into a parking spot and then pulling out again, straightening the van, pulling in again, pulling out. Steve scoffs and hits his head against the headrest, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t wanna take up someone else’s spot.”

“Mhmm.”

Eddie is smiling as he finally stops the van and pulls the keys out the ignition, and he turns to look at Steve, eyebrows raised.

“You’re pouting?”

“…No.”

“Baby.”

Steve looks at him. And kisses him, leaning across the center console and crashing their mouths together. Eddie laughs, turning to hold his face. He reaches to unbuckle Steve’s seatbelt;t before doing his own, and Steve just tilts his head to kiss him deeper and he scrambles out of the seatbelt. Eddie hums, caressing his cheeks.

“Wanna go inside?” he mumbles between kisses. “Hm?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, nodding, but he doesn’t pull away, his breath catching when Eddie tugs on his lower lip.

“C’mon.”

Eddie holds his hand as he leads him upstairs, their fingers locked. It’s a little dark, the lights lining the stairwell dimmer than they should be. They’re quiet, not even whispering to each other as they ascend the stairs, and Steve steps up close to Eddie as he’s unlocking the door, pressing his face against his shoulder.

They’re kissing before the door is even shut behind them, before Eddie’s even flicked the lights on, and they kick their shoes off, shove their jackets off, clutch at each other. The inside of Eddie’s mouth tastes like cherry pie, sweet and sugary and fucking delicious.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck and lifts onto his tiptoes, groaning when Eddie grabs his thighs and lifts him up. Eddie grabs his ass when his legs wrap around his hips, reaching to put one hand on the wall to steady himself as he makes his way to his room with Steve clinging to him.

They pull the clothing off each other’s bodies, breathing hard, touching and kissing and licking, and Steve keeps thinking there’s no way he can ever feel what he’s felt before, what he felt the first time Eddie pressed into his body, but the sun is somehow shining down on him even though it’s the middle of the night and they’re hidden in Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie holds his hand, clutching tightly as he opens Steve up tenderly, as he sucks kisses into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

Steve’s hand is tight in Eddie’s hair, holding on like he’ll float away if he lets go of him.

He’s whimpering, whining and moaning, and Eddie’s fingers feel so fucking good inside him, moving slowly, gently, carefully, fucking in and out of him, forcing soft noises into the air. Steve bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling sharply.

When he opens his eyes, he can’t see. His vision is blurred, the light from the lamp suddenly brighter than it usually is.

He opens his mouth for a breath, but there’s something on his chest, keeping his lungs from filling, and a tear escapes his eye. His hand clenches in Eddie’s hair hard.

“Baby?”

Steve exhales sharply.

Eddie moves up over his body, hovering over Steve, and Steve can’t let go of his hair. His hand is clenched tightly, shaking, and he can’t let go. He’s gripping so hard he’s probably, definitely hurting Eddie, and he can’t let go.

“What’s your color?”

Eddie’s voice is muffled, like Steve is underwater, like there’s something between them. Steve’s eyes blink, stinging,

“Steve. Color.”

Steve exhales again, and his voice is weak, cracking like a thin layer of ice when he finally says, “Red.”

Eddie’s fingers pull out of him, and Steve wants to protest, to whine Come back, but he can’t get any other words out.

“Come here,” Eddie says softly, kindly, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling down his face, into his hair. Eddie holds Steve’s hand where it’s stuck in his hair, and Steve tries to let go, but he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, almost whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—”

“Steve,” Eddie says firmly, pulling him to sit up. “Don’t apologize, baby, it’s okay. We’re all done.”

Steve takes a stuttering breath, opening his eyes to look at him desperately. Eddie is looking at him tenderly, nodding when Steve inhales, and he’s so beautiful Steve starts to cry again. Eddie reaches up to gently detach Steve’s hand from his hair, and Steve closes his eyes tightly, trying to loosen his hand. Eddie holds his clenched fist in his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles.

“Baby,” Eddie says softly. “Look at me.”

Steve opens his eyes.

“You wanna get dressed?”

Steve pauses, looking at him, and then he nods.

Eddie leans to grab their clothes from where they’re discarded next to the bed. He sits up with a hoodie in his hand, one that was on the floor within reach. He lets go of Steve’s hand to help him get dressed, to help him pull his boxers on and tug Eddie’s hoodie on over his head before he dresses himself as well.

Steve covers his face in his hands, trying to hide, and he weakens even more when Eddie touches him, when he runs his hands over his arms gently, squeezing.

“Stevie, baby…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes, his voice muffled. “I’m so sorry, baby, I— I don’t—”

Eddie shushes him gently, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“Steve, sweetheart, come here.” He pulls him in so their foreheads press together, and he caresses his cheeks, nudging their noses together. “Breathe,” he says softly, whispering. “It’s okay.”

Steve sniffles, reaching to hold his waist, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. He tries to breathe, to inhale slowly, normally, but it doesn’t work, and his breath gets caught in his throat, choking him.

“You got it,” Eddie murmurs.

When Steve exhales smoothly, Eddie lifts his head and looks at him, smoothing his hair out of the way carefully, gently.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathes. Eddie shakes his head patiently.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“But…”

But it was a good night.

They’d gone on an actual date, and Steve had had fun, he’d held his boyfriend’s hand in public without worrying, without being scared. He’d kissed him in the car and giggled and blushed, and everything was fucking fine.

“Look at me,” Eddie says firmly, and Steve lifts his head, his vision blurring. Eddie is looking at him intently, tenderly. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you understand?”

“But…”

“But nothing, baby,” Eddie says, leaning forward in emphasis. “You did so good for me, okay?”

Steve’s eyes flutter as he blinks tears out of his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie whispers. “I’m not upset at all, Stevie, okay?”

It must be clear on his face that Steve doesn’t believe him. Because it doesn’t make sense that Eddie wouldn’t be upset; Steve’s ruined their night. There’s no way Eddie isn’t at least disappointed.

“Steve,” Eddie murmurs. “Baby.”

Steve looks at him again, letting him wipe his tears and cradle his jaw.

“I would be upset if you didn’t say anything,” Eddie says gently. “If you didn’t stop me, and you just… let me keep going even though you didn’t want to.” His voice sounds tight. “Okay? You never, ever have to apologize for stopping anything. If it’s… If it’s sex, or if you don’t feel like talking, or if you don’t feel like being touched— anything. You understand?”

And something about the way his voice sounds, so firm, almost demanding, almost authoritative, makes Steve feel a little lightheaded. Makes him melt into his hands.

He’s so nice.

“Stevie,” Eddie says softly. “If you decide that you never wanna have sex with me ever again, that’s okay.”

Steve almost pouts, his head tilting, and Eddie smiles weakly, his thumbs brushing over Steve’s cheeks.

“That’s okay,” Eddie says adamantly, shaking Steve’s head gently, playfully. “You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? ”

Steve nods weakly.

Eddie leans in again, nudging their noses together.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for not wanting something,” he says softly. “For saying no or telling me to stop or asking for more time or fucking anything, you understand me?”

Steve nods, his eyes fluttering again. Eddie holds his jaw and shakes his head playfully again, and it’s kind of condescending, kind of mean, but it makes Steve’s mind go blank.

“You understand me?” Eddie asks again, more intently, waiting for a verbal response.

Steve isn’t thinking. His skull is full of static.

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie blinks.

And Steve’s own voice catches up to him. His face flushes with heat, and his eyes burn.

“I’m—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Eddie says, half-smiling now. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Steve scoffs weakly, but he’s crying again, embarrassed, and Eddie wipes his tears away, leaning in to kiss his forehead before he lowers his head to press his forehead to it.

“Is that what you wanna call me, baby?” he murmurs. Steve’s stomach flutters. He nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice weak again. It’s almost a whine.

“That’s okay,” Eddie whispers. “You can call me that.”

“But it’s weird,” Steve says quietly, shyly, and Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“You know I don’t mind weird.”

Steve smiles weakly.

“I like it,” Eddie whispers softly, the end of his nose brushing Steve’s. “I love taking care of you, baby.”

Steve nods, closing his eyes, exhaling slowly, and their noses brush again.

“I love taking care of you,” Eddie repeats intently.

Steve tilts his head and lifts his chin to kiss him softly, and Eddie lets him, humming quietly and holding his face like he’s something precious.

Eddie guides him to rest on his shoulder when they part, and Steve sighs, melting against him.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

“…Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, baby boy,” Eddie murmurs, and he kisses Steve’s head, running his hands over his spine, and Steve think he might be fucking fine.

─────────────────

Steve’s hair is damp with rain as he makes his way up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment. He feels heavy; his jacket is almost soaked, and his jeans are sticking to his legs, and his bag is weighing his shoulders down. He lets it drop to his elbow before dropping it to the ground as he stops outside Eddie’s door.

Eddie answers within just a few seconds, and Steve smiles, tilting his head at him as Eddie steps aside for him to come inside, but something is off. Eddie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, dropping his bag next to the pile of shoes by the door, letting Eddie take his jacket. Eddie scoffs, his expression lightening.

“Nothing?”

Steve gives him a look as he toes his shoes off, kicking them aside.

“What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Eddie sighs, an eyebrow raising as he looks Steve up and down, half-smiling. “You don’t have an umbrella?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Steve says lightly, moving closer, setting his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and playing with the curls that have escaped the bun his hair is in. Eddie holds his waist easily. “Also yes, I do, but I forgot it.”

“Ah.” Eddie sighs heavily, slowly, his eyes skimming Steve’s face. “Wayne called.”

Steve blinks. His stomach twists.

He’s never met Wayne. Never even talked on the phone with him. But he loves him.

Eddie has endless stories about it, about his collections of mugs and trucker hats and bottle openers, about his banjo and the quilts that litter his living room. About how he’d stay up with Eddie to help him with his homework or to listen to him rant about whatever book he was reading or whatever campaign he was planning. About how he came home one day and threw a brand-new hairbrush at Eddie a while after he started growing his hair out. About how sweet he’s always been, how loving.

“Is he okay?” he asks, his eyes widening. “What happened?”

“He’s fine,” Eddie says quickly, smiling, shaking his head, pressing a hand into the small of Steve’s back. “He’s fine, it’s just…”

Steve stares at him as he hesitates, his lips parted like he’s going to speak even though he doesn’t say anything. Steve touches his face, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes look a little bit red.

“It’s Linda,” Eddie says after a few moments, his hands holding Steve’s waist firmly like he’s steadying himself on him. Steve freezes. “She, uhm. She had a heart attack. She didn’t make it.”

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, shakily, nodding his head absently. His eyes are glassy.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie inhales, laughing humourlessly, letting out a shaky, “Uh…”

“Baby,” Steve says, and Eddie meets his eyes. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks tears back, and his tongue swipes over his lower lip briefly. Steve slides his hands down to his arms.

“Come here,” he says softly, reaching for Eddie’s hand, and he pulls him along gently as he goes to the living room. Eddie follows quietly, sniffling, and Steve’s chest hurts. He pushes him to sit on the sofa, and Eddie falls on it heavily, looking up at Steve helplessly as Steve lowers to sit on his lap, his knees on either side of his hips. “Okay?”

Eddie nods, his mouth quirking into a tired smile. Steve sets his hands on his neck, tracing light lines over his skin.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a slow deep breath, relaxing against the back of the sofa and lifts his hands to rest them on Steve’s thighs.

“I, uhm…” He opens his eyes, but they’re hazy, glassy, trained on the collar of Steve’s shirt. It’s a plain t-shirt, grey and loose-fitted, but it’s nothing Steve would ever have worn even a year ago. The cross on Steve’s necklace is hidden behind the fabric. “I don’t know how to feel.”

His hands are kneading Steve’s thighs gently, absently, like he’s fidgeting.

“What are you feeling right now?” Steve asks softly. Eddie pauses before he shrugs.

“Just… I don’t know.” His voice cracks. He looks at Steve, looking into his eyes for a moment before he looks away again, squeezing Steve’s hips. “I’m… Sad. But. I don’t know.” He shrugs again, shaking his head. His head falls against the back of the sofa.

Steve brushes his thumb over his throat lightly, his heart aching.

“I feel angry?” Eddie says after a moment, his expression shifting into confusion. “I don’t— I don’t know why, it— it’s like she slighted me or something, I don’t…” He does that laugh again, that awful laugh that grates on Steve’s skin, that laugh that’s void of joy. “I don’t know.”

“You’re allowed to feel angry,” Steve says quietly, tucking a loose wisp of hair behind his ear. The tunnels through his earlobes are black today.

“It’s not just anger,” Eddie breathes, his hands sliding up to Steve’s waist like he’s pleading with him. “I… I feel relieved.”

He whispers it. Like it’s a secret. Like he’s ashamed.

“That’s okay,” Steve whispers back, but Eddie shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

“It’s not,” he breathes. Steve takes a breath to say something, but Eddie speaks again. “She’s dead. I— How can I feel, like, content with it?”

“She was cruel to you,” Steve interrupts, leaning down with emphasis. “She was mean. You have every right to feel relieved that you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Eddie’s head falls back again and he sighs, looking at the ceiling. His eyelashes are wet. Steve traces the bat on his neck, caressing its grotesque face, its intricate wings. Eddie’s hands squeeze his waist, kneading and holding him tightly.

“Talk to me,” Steve says after a few moments. Eddie takes another deep breath.

“Uhm,” he says. His voice wavers, and Steve hates seeing him like this, hates seeing him sad. “I saw her a few years ago.”

Steve nods, caressing his neck.

“I was nineteen. Wayne had… Wayne had had an accident at the plant,” Eddie continues, steeling himself. “He was injured. It wasn’t, like… He was on bed rest, you know? And when he called me, I just… I panicked. I’d only lived away from him a little while, and I just… I went to him. Just in case.”

Steve smiles fondly, nodding. Of course Eddie would go to him.

“He couldn’t really walk. He was still… I mean. Wayne’s a character. He kept tellin’ me I didn’t need to go all the way down there, but he… I could tell he was happy I was there.”

Steve’s smile grows. Eddie’s accent always grows heavier when he talks about his hometown or Wayne. Steve likes hearing his accent.

“So one day, I was…” Eddie sighs. “I was in the kitchen fixin’ up some tea. Wayne was in bed with a book. He took my room after I left town.” Steve nods. “And, uhm… There was a knock.”

He slips a hand under the hem of Steve’s shirt, pressing to his skin. His hand is warm.

“I thought it was gonna be, like, a neighbor, or— or one of Wayne’s work buddies, but it was—” He cuts off, choking on his own voice, and Steve’s stomach hurts. “It was Linda.”

He pauses for a moment, slipping his tongue over his lips, kneading the soft flesh above Steve’s waistband.

“She didn’t recognize me at first,” he says quietly. “I, like, froze when I saw her, and she— she just stared at me. And I could— I could see the exact moment she realized who I was, I mean she, like… Her eyes went all wide. And she looked me up and down, and I— I remember I was wearing just a black hoodie, but she looked at it like…”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly when he doesn’t finish.

“I’d had these done,” Eddie says, lifting a hand and touching one of the piercings on his lower lip. “And I had, uhm, one here,” he says, touching the side of his nose. “I let it close a while ago, but it was, uhm, just a silver hoop.”

Steve nods, smiling.

“She… She just stared at me, and neither of us knew what to do.” Eddie looks at Steve’s chest again, his eyes glassy, and it’s like he’s zoned out completely, like he’s barely even there. “She had a, uhm, like a casserole dish, and a— a Bible. And I just kinda stared for a moment. And then she, uhm, like, snapped at me about… You’re not gonna let me in?”

Steve sighs.

“And I just said no.”

Steve scoffs, and Eddie’s expression lightens. He looks up at Steve’s face, his hands tightening on his waist.

“And I asked what she wanted, and she told me she heard Wayne was hurt so she came by to see him, and I… We started arguing. And Wayne came out of his room to see what the fuss was, and he was— he was limping, and hobbling, and Linda and I both, like scolded him for getting out of bed. And for this… brief moment, we were… one in the same.”

Steve’s expression tightens. His lips purse.

“Wayne saw the Bible she was holding,” Eddie continues. “And he…” He half-smiles, tilting his head fondly even though he’s just staring into space. “Goddammit, Linda,” he says in a clear impression of Wayne, his voice gravelly, his accent thicker. Steve smiles. “I told you I don’t want that shit in my house.

“I helped Wayne back to bed,” Eddie continues. “And Linda let herself in. Started to heat up the casserole. I told Wayne to stay put, you know, that I’d deal with her.”

“I assume she didn’t go easily,” Steve says. Eddie shakes his head.

“She, uhm… She argued. Told me she just wanted to speak with Wayne, say a prayer for his health. I told her Wayne wasn’t interested.” He trails off into silence, chewing on his lip. “…She said she wanted to help me, too, but… but that I was already too far gone.”

Steve blinks. Recognizes the words from Eddie’s thigh.

“I told her to leave.” Eddie blinks, looking up at Steve. His lip trembles, and his eyes fill with tears. “That was the last time I saw her.”

Steve touches his cheek. Eddie turns his face into it, taking a stuttering breath.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly. Eddie blinks his eyes open, shrugging again. “Eddie.”

“I feel like shit,” Eddie says, a tear falling down his cheek, his voice shaking. “I hate feeling like this, like— like I’m fucking vindicated or something. Like this is justice.” His eyes are wide like he’s desperate to say this, like he needs Steve to hear him. “She’s dead. I should be, like, grieving, but I’m not,” he says despite the tears on his face, despite the trembling of his hands.

“Eddie,” Steve says firmly, holding his face. Eddie’s tears run down his fingers, dampening his skin, and Steve thinks he could use the tears as holy water, could use them to bless himself, to purify himself. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling.”

Eddie’s breath shudders as he exhales. He looks up at Steve like he’s helpless, like he’s listening like his life depends on it.

“She abused you,” Steve says after hesitating for a moment. “She was cruel. She used God to use you. You have every right to be glad she’s gone. Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter. Steve wipes his tears away tenderly.

“Whatever you’re feeling is fine,” Steve murmurs. “You can be angry, and you can be sad, and you can be happy, it’s… It’s all fine.” He looks him in the eye. He looks tired. “Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes blink at him. His hands are still trembling a little bit.

“…I love you.”

Steve almost startles, blinking, freezing, and Eddie’s expression doesn’t change; he’s still gazing up at Steve, looking at him like he’s fucking reverent.

“I know it…” Eddie pauses, taking a breath. “I know this is really bad timing, but I…” His eyes flutter, and he presses his lips together, hesitating.

Steve leans down and kisses him. It’s a slow kiss, gentle and lingering, and Eddie’s hands slide around to the small of his back, holding him close. When Steve pulls away, he stays close, their noses nudging, their foreheads pressing.

“I love you too,” he says quietly, whispering. “It’s okay.”

Eddie exhales shakily, and he lets out a quiet sob, and it tears through Steve’s body, rips him to shreds right in Eddie’s lap. He kisses him again, holding his face gently, pushing a hand into his hair when Eddie gasps into his mouth. Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, holding him tightly, pressing them together so close Steve feels like their skin might melt together.

Eddie makes a soft noise, a weak groan that slips between Steve’s lips and rumbles into his chest. Steve whines back, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, his back arching when Eddie kisses him harder, biting and sucking on his lip, and it’s like the air in the room has suddenly become hazy. Eddie lifts a hand to grab Steve’s throat, holding him in place as he licks into his mouth.

Steve hums, keening, slumping against him, nodding when Eddie pulls away for a brief moment to look at him. He doesn’t let go of Steve’s throat, squeezing a little bit as his other hand slides around to his back, pushing under his shirt and rubbing his skin. Steve reaches to hold his wrist, gasping for breath, cheeks warm. Eddie is harder under him, and Steve’s blood is rushing.

“Eddie,” he gasps when they part.

“Mm.”

“Do you… Do you wanna have sex?” he asks breathlessly. Eddie grins, his teeth nipping at Steve’s lip.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, pulling away to look at him. His hair is already a mess, and his cheeks are pink, and his eyes are glassy again, but it’s a better shine than before.

“Yes,” he says softly.

“Can we do it here?”

“Do you want…”

“I’ll go get it,” Steve says quickly when Eddie’s hands set on his hips like he’s going to nudge him to get up. “Wait here.”

Eddie smiles lazily, softly.

“Okay.”

Steve goes quickly, tugging his shirt off on his way and tossing it aside as he grabs the lube and a condom from Eddie’s bedside table. They’re sitting in plain view, next to a half-full glass of water and a book Eddie’s been reading, and the sight of them, so casual, so easy, makes Steve happy somehow.

Eddie is pulling his own shirt off when Steve goes back to him, and Steve tosses the lube and condom to the sofa next to him before unzipping his jeans as Eddie watches, hair even messier than before, frizzy and staticy from his shirt. It’s a relief when Steve finally peels his jeans off his legs; they’re still a little damp, but he hadn’t noticed the discomfort until now. Eddie lifts his hips to pull his jeans and boxers down his hips, pushing them to his knees before reaching for Steve, who takes his hand as he kicks aside his clothes.

He falls onto Eddie’s lap again with a sharp exhale as their bodies meet. Eddie’s skin is warm.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, pressing their foreheads together as Eddie reaches for the lube and tugs at the small of Steve’s back to make him arch it. “I love you so much, sir.”

“God, I love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers. The lube bottle clicks twice, and Steve lets out a weak sound when Eddie’s finger presses to his hole, cold with lube. “I’m so fucking grateful for you.”

Steve whines, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, hiding his face, groaning when Eddie squeezes at his ass, spreading him open. They’re both quiet as Eddie fingers him open, his fingers pushing and prodding, spreading his fingers and making Steve ache in the best way, except the occasional whisper, the soft brush of Eddie’s breath on Steve’s bare skin.

Is that good?

Fuck, yes, sir.

Steve groans when he feels ready, when the heat in his stomach is threatening to overflow, and he reaches back to swat at Eddie’s hand, whining a weak Please.

He lifts onto his knees for Eddie to roll the condom on and spread lube over himself, and he looks down at Eddie, who looks back up at him. They just look at each other for a moment, eyes shining, lips parted as they pant. And then Steve kisses him so hard their teeth clash, and Eddie groans, squeezing his ass. They don’t pull away, feeling blindly for Steve to lower himself onto Eddie, and he moans into Eddie’s mouth as he does.

“Mm, God, Eddie.”

“Fuck.”

Steve lets out a sound that’s high in his throat, breathy and weak, and Eddie’s hands spread over his waist, holding him in place for a moment. He’s trembling now, shaking as he clings to Eddie’s shoulders.

“Shit,” he breathes sharply. “You’re so— You’re so fucking deep—”

Eddie hums, gripping Steve tightly, and they pause there, staying for a moment.

Until Steve shifts on his knees with a weak whines, rising and then lowering, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he might get a headache. He sounds pathetic.

He moves faster after a few moments, arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, face buried and hidden, his voice muffled as he whines and pants and groans as Eddie touches him, holds him. Eddie’s hips shift for a brief moment, rising to meet Steve’s movements, and it presses him even deeper, and Steve lets out a fucking wail.

“You okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, pausing. Steve grinds down against him, whining, breathing hard, nodding into his neck.

“Green, fuck, Eddie,” he whines. “Please, sir, please, please—”

Eddie slides down the sofa a little bit, holding Steve’s hips tightly, keeping him in place, and he fucks him, looking up at him, watching closely, carefully. Steve whines. He’s rambling, mumbling fucking deliriously even as he listens to Eddie’s soft voice, murmuring to him.

“My good boy,” he says softly, so fucking softly. “My baby boy, you’re so perfect.”

Steve sobs, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it tightly as he gasps for breath, moving against Eddie’s body, winding his hips, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his shoulder, warm and soft and comforting.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Eddie says roughly, hands gripping Steve’s hips so tightly it might bruise, when Steve moves again, up and down, and Steve groans at the sound of their skin meeting, soft slaps that fill the air like mist. “That’s my boy, there you go, baby.”

Steve whines, and there are tears on his face now. Eddie tugs at his hair to make him lift his head, and he gazes at him for a moment before he pulls him in, and he licks Steve’s tears away, and maybe he thinks the same about Steve’s tears that Steve thinks about his. Steve groans, his eyes closing again as Eddie’s tongue slides over his cheek, as his hand pulls his hair and his other hand squeezes his ass.

Steve grinds against him, reaching up to hold Eddie’s face weakly, his fingertips pressing into his cheeks.

Their faces are pressed together, breath mixing in the air, bodies moving desperately.

“I love you,” Steve breathes. “I love you, sir—”

Eddie whines, licking his jaw before his hand lands on Steve’s ass sharply, the sound ringing out around the room like it’s empty, like there’s an echo.

“I love you too,” he whispers roughly. “Fucking beyond words, baby, I can’t even fucking tell you—”

Steve comes with the words caught in his throat, choking on them as he repeats them again and again and again and again, like a mantra. Like a prayer.

Eddie says it back. Again and again and again and again.

They get dressed slowly. Quietly. Eddie pushes Steve’s hair back after helping him pull on a sweater, and Steve pushes him gently so his back is to Steve, so he can pull his curls back into a ponytail.

Eddie makes coffee. Steve hugs his waist as he pours it into two mugs, resting his face against his back between his shoulder blades, his cheek squishing against him. He can smell the fabric of his shirt, and it’s nice.

They sit in the living room, on the sofa, and then Eddie looks up at Steve, his eyebrows taut.

“Do you… Would you mind if I smoked a cigarette?” he asks. He looks shy.

Steve shakes his head, smiling, and he reaches to set his mug aside.

“Where are they?” he asks as he gets up. Eddie looks up at him, and his eyes are shining again as he smiles.

“Uh, I have a pack in the drawer there,” he says, gesturing to the table by the sofa. “There’s a lighter there too. I’ll open a window.”

They sit on the windowsill, blankets wrapped around themselves, mugs set between them.

Steve holds up a cigarette for him, and Eddie leans to take it between his lips, suppressing a smile. Steve fiddles with the lighter for a moment, staring at it, and Eddie reaches silently to show him, moving his hand so he can flick the lighter and tilt his hand without burning his thumb. Steve tilts his head as he holds the light out, as Eddie leans in and inhales, puffing smoke out of his mouth as he leans back again.

Steve sips his coffee as Eddie smokes, leaning against the window. The glass is cold even through the fabric of his sweater and the blanket that’s wrapped around him, but he doesn’t mind. He gazes at Eddie, watches the end of his cigarette glow brightly, watches the smoke drift around his head and out the window that he’s opened. Eddie drains his coffee and tapes the cigarette ash into the empty mug.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks softly when their eyes meet.

“Better,” Eddie says. His voice is soft, quiet, almost shy. He smiles.

“Do you wanna talk about her?”

Eddie shrugs, taking a drag, sighing the smoke out of his lungs.

“I just…” He’s quiet for a moment, looking out the window, watching the world outside for a moment. “I was so young when I lived with them. And it just feels like… like there’s still this little boy somewhere inside me that went into hiding because of them.”

Steve nods, holding his mug to his face so the steam is on his skin. He wishes he could take it all away from Eddie, wishes he could reach into his chest and pull out all the heartache and sadness. Eddie is quiet, looking at the windowsill between them. It’s white, the paint chipping at the corner of the wood.

“I keep having to remind myself that I didn’t deserve it,” Eddie says quietly. “All the shit they gave me.”

And Steve doesn’t know what to say.

He’s reminded of the things Eddie’s said to him about Steve’s own parents, about the way they talk to him, the way they touch him.

“They turned me into someone else,” Eddie says quietly, tapping the cigarette on the mug again, sighing. “I wasn’t the same when I left their house as when I moved in.”

He looks up at Steve, and he looks like he wants to laugh like that again, to dismiss it and change the subject, to pretend he’s fine. But after a moment, his eyes are gleaming, watering again, and his lip quivers even as he twists his mouth to suppress it. He shrugs, blinking his eyes, tilting his head, and he looks so small Steve wants to tuck him into his chest to keep him safe.

“I was so soft before them,” Eddie says, his voice just a breath, and Steve’s chest splits open.

His eyes burn suddenly, and he nods, blinking tears back.

“I’m sorry they stole that from you,” he says softly.

He pauses for a moment before he leans in, through the air that smells like cigarette smoke, over his mug, and he touches Eddie’s face with his free hand, holding him as he kisses him gently. They linger there, eyelashes fluttering against each other’s cheeks, before Steve pulls away and looks at him, touching his cheek.

He takes a deep breath, looking at Eddie’s piercings on his mouth, looking at the bat on his throat, at the subtle reddish bruise that’s hidden in the bat’s wing from Steve’s teeth. He slides his hand down to Eddie’s chest and presses over his heart like he’s trying to feel the heat of his blood.

“He’s still in here,” he says quietly, looking at his hand pressing over Eddie’s sweater. “Little Eddie.”

Eddie suppresses a smile, sniffling, putting his hand over Steve’s like he’s holding it in place.

“We can… We can make him feel safe now,” Steve says, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “He can exist without being scared now. At home.”

Eddie’s smile wavers. His hand presses harder over Steve’s.

“I love you so much.”

Steve kisses him again, tasting coffee and cigarettes on his tongue.

“I love you so much too.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

[swindledin77]

Eroticism and Early Britpunk Fashion

Recently I read an interesting post about rockstars, a once ubiquitous sub-category of celebrity that's currently fallen to the cultural wayside, and how eroticism is often an integral component of their public images.

And that got me thinking about early (as in 1976-1978) Britpunk's relationship to eroticism and sex. So here's a silly, rather disorganized write up I did on how sexual Britpunk fashion is and why I think that appealed to certain people.

Unlike many youth subcultures, Britpunk- which, for those who don't know, is the British version of the punk subculture- tended towards asexual puritanism. Both as a reaction to the free love movement of the hippies that Britpunk characterized itself as being inherently in opposition to in both behavior and values, and as an extension of the theory put forward by Greil Marcus about punks being the spiritual successors to medieval heretics who considered the material world to be wholly corrupt- including and especially carnal pleasures such as sex.

Viv Albertine notes in her autobiography that in Britpunk culture sex was treated as a commodity, no emotional attachment needed. Johnny Rotten, the main figurehead of the punk movement at the time, once famously called sex 'five minutes of squelching sounds' and his deep disgust for anything sexual did a lot to shape the subculture's negative perception of sex. There are barely any Britpunk songs from the era that portray romance as something positive and even less that discuss sex in any way at all.

So isn't it a bit odd that Britpunk fashion is so sexual? Because it is very sexual.

A lot of original Britpunk fashion is appropriated fetish gear. Bondage suits, leather, collars, and latex. SEX/Seditionaries, Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood's boutique that basically single-handedly created the iconic look of early Britpunk, carried all of this along with t-shirts with sexual images- such as a pair of women's breasts or the word 'perv' spelled out in chicken bones- or actual porn on them- such as drawings of cowboys touching tips or Snow White having a gang bang with the Seven Dwarfs. The London Leatherman, who got his start in the gay leather scene, made leather clothes and accessories for bands like the Sex Pistols and The Clash and The Slits while allowing McLaren and Westwood to sell his wares in their store. Ripped clothes that showed off the chest and chains as an accessory were also common. Because of this the average punker in London was decked out in clothes that wouldn't look out of place in a sex club.

Let's take a look at some examples.

(Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols wearing a handcuff around his wrist and a t-shirt with a drawing of gay cowboys that resembles Tom of Finland's work on it.)

(Paul Simonon of The Clash wearing a shirt that says 'everyone's a prostitute' and has two scantily clad women on it.)

(Siouxsie Sioux wearing a t-shirt with a pair of women's breasts on it.)

(Soo Catwoman wearing a spiked collar with a chain around her neck.)

(Various members of the Bromley Contingent, including actual dominatrix Linda, wearing various erotic clothing items such as a see through dress, collars, and leather shorts.)

(Jordan and Vivienne Westwood wearing full bondage suits.)

(Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols wearing a ripped version of the gay cowboys shirt that intentionally exposes his naval and nipple.)

(Adam Ant wearing a leather t-shirt.)

(Paul Simonon of The Clash wearing a leather jacket, leather trousers, and a spiked leather wristband while exposing his bare chest.)

(Alan Jones wearing a shirt that says 'perv' on it and Chrissie Hynde wearing a latex or leather top while another woman wears a latex or leather dress.)

So if Britpunk was so anti-sex, why play with such erotic imagery?

For Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren, fashion was and art form that was all about bringing the taboos of the repressed British culture out from the shadows, including and especially the aesthetics of sex. They wanted to shock people out of their complacency and liberate young people. What better way to do that then to turn something as incredibly taboo as fetishes primarily associated with gay men (latex, leather, and bondage) into the hot new couture? But neither Westwood nor McLaren were actually interested in sex (especially not with each other despite having a child together) and were content to simply explore it in an artistic and emotionally distant way. Their clothes are sexual but they aren't sexy. The eroticism exists primarily to make a point, not to tantalize.

Westwood about SEX/Seditionaries' clothes: "We’re here to convert, liberate and educate. We want to inspire people to have the confidence to live out their fantasies and change. What we’re really making is a political statement with our shop by attempting to attack the system."

But why wear these clothes? Obviously teenagers and young adults love the idea of doing (and wearing) taboo things that piss off their parents and other boring old farts. Obviously fans of the Sex Pistols, The Clash, and other punk bands wanted to dress like their idols and set themselves apart from the average citizen. But why else did punkers- in particular young female punkers- latch on so heavily to such risque fashion?

Well, to steal one of the few good lines from Danny Boyle's Pistol, when you dress like that you get a lot of funny looks but no wolf whistles.

If you've spent enough time online, you may be familiar with the concept of danger hair. If not, it basically means that if a young woman has brightly colored dyed hair then she's crazy and you shouldn't bother hitting on her. Kind of like how a poison dart frog is brightly colored to let birds know that it's deathly poisonous and they shouldn't bother eating it. Obviously this phrase is misogynistic but it does have a kernel of truth to it. Throughout history certain women have chosen to dress in ways that are intentionally unappealing to the majority of men in order to ward off unwanted advances.

Britpunk fashion on women was, despite how sexual it was, deeply unappealing to men. Legs McNeil, co-founder of PUNK magazine, talked extensively about how vile he found punk girls who dressed in the Britpunk style, how sexually unappealing they were to him. Little did he know, that's why those girls were dressing like that in the first place.

Back in the 1970s, the Britpunk style was beyond shocking to the majority of people. If you were a teenage girl or young woman who didn't want anyone to catcall you or make random passes at you while you were out on the town, decking yourself out in the latest clothes from SEX was a great way to get most men off your back. Instead of danger hair, it was danger clothes. Just because you were dressed in a sexual way didn't mean you were dressed sexy- at least in the opinion of the average man at the time.

Unfortunately though you'd just be trading in one form of violence for another as it was common for members of other youth subcultures to brutally attack punks who wandered the streets alone.

These days though everyone wants a punk girlfriend. Too bad they won't be getting one!