#this may be because of the lack of women
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deeply refreshing to see someone critical of Swift who also like, genuinely likes her. Like i'm neutral to positive on her, but the online discourse has been absolutely rancid. flipping between "Taylor Swift has never done anything wrong ever and she's a fucking genius" and "Taylor Swift is the worst lyricist of all time and also a bad person" is exhausting, so thank you for like. nuance or something lmao
not to make it serious for a sec but i genuinely think that being able to like things that are bad is really important. like I think that it's an important skill to be able to look at something and see what you personally enjoy about it and then take a step back and acknowledge that objectively it's flawed. and to also be able to acknowledge that liking something isn't necessarily an identity or a moral stance. and i think that fandom space in general could really benefit from more people taking the time to learn how to do that. it's okay to like things that are bad
#people ask me sometimes why ill occasionally talk about something i like and then go 'but it's bad' and the answer is usually because it is#i love teen wolf. i love genshin impact. i love detective conan. and i fucking LOVE taylor swift. that doesnt mean theyre good#it just means i like them. and recognizing their flaws actually helps me better identify what i like about them!#it's like. in my mind bad > good is the x axis and i like it > i dont like it is the y axis yk. they're not mutually exclusive#tldr it's not that serious. we can all relax a little#irt taylor swift i do also think she has done some real harm to her fans in enabling them to deflect all criticism of her as misogyny#and i don't think it's fully the fault of these people who are parroting that response bc so much of her marketing has deliberately#reinforced this idea that to be a swiftie is to be a part of a sisterhood and that any attack on taylor is an attack on all of those women#who are in that in-group. when that's obviously not the case. but she's marketed herself as. for lack of a better term. 'girl music'#to the point where it makes her fans feel as though any criticism of the music or the woman responsible for it is an attack on their#personal experience of womanhood/girlhood/sisterhood/etc. and that's how you get all of thess bad-faith accusations of misogyny#i don't necessarily think this was her deliberate goal with her marketing tho because like. on first glance such a strong sense of communit#among fans sounds like a great thing. the friendship bracelets i got at the eras tour movie are really genuinely special to me.#but it does present a problem when your fans are unable to separate how they feel about the community and experience your music has fostere#from how they feel about you as a person. especially when you are a billionaire who absolutely CANNOT be above criticism in this economy#anyway. tldr i love taylor's music and i don't think swiftie hivemind is as deliberately malicious as it may seem#but it's obviously necessary to be able to take a step back and look objectively at what you're participating in.#anyway stream ttpd or don't idc <3#taylor swift
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Bluepoch gave us the gift of barely-subtext tragic sapphic-centric media do NOT throw that away.
Context regarding PJSK and Undertale under cut.
Project Sekai cast is dominated by female characters but mlm is more popular, meanwhile Undertale has canon wlw rep and oh my god they’re at the bottom. I have nothing against these fandoms or media (I’m literally currently/was in them) but yeah. I just HOPE r99 doesn’t end up in a similar state.
#mochagaming#if r99 ever gets even more popular and people somehow manage to out-yaoi the yuri i may actually buy a gun#‘write more yuri then’ I AM <3 AND LETS KEEP WRITING YURI R99 NATION#this is an irrational fear btw#especially since the fandoms i previously in kept fixating on the men in women-centric media#which is not bad#good for them#but its alienating for me LOL#thankfully rn r99 fandom is still diligent woman appreciators so thanks guys#keep it up#I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST MEN OR MLM#I JUST REALLY NEED THAT SAPPHIC SPOTLIGHT#LET THIS DESPERATE LESBIAN DREAM THAT HER FAV GAME STAYS YURIFUL#(because fandom activity genuinely affects the game itself so…)#reverse 1999#I am not trying to discourage any form of fandom content#But if I see someone complain about ‘lack of men’ in this game I… I genuinely dont know??? what to say???#we dont even have enough lesbian rep. it is always cast aside.#it should be prioritized (by bluepoch) i think#like to charge reblog to cast
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So I went and watched all the possible endings, and it confirmed something I had been thinking, which is that the redemption ending choice is, perhaps, the most immediately regretful one--but that they all come with some form of regret. In the redemption ending, Rook has to knowingly deny themselves the catharsis of retribution (should they desire it, which, at least for me it felt difficult not to) in order to offer Solas one last, painful chance to do the right thing. That willful denial of your own catharsis feels like an immediate regret. Giving Solas the opportunity to pursue atonement might very well be the best choice all around, but it is also incredibly painful to offer that to someone who has done so many terrible things (not a small amount to you personally). Why does he deserve another chance? Especially when so many dead (including a beloved mentor) lie in his wake? Which, I suppose, is the point: he doesn't. But you offer it anyway and it SUCKS ASS, because how could it not?
I don't know how this plays with other story choices (a sacrificed Davrin or a Harding who embraced her anger, for example), but within the context of my own choices, I can imagine an immediate satisfaction to either tricking or fighting him--especially the trick ending, where you can actively name drop Varric--but it feels like the sort of thing that would feel worse as more time passes. Once you've calmed down and are able to ask yourself if that's what the people you've lost really wanted. Varric, in Regret Superhell, didn't want vengeance. He just wanted his friend to walk a better path. And Harding always believed there was another chance for anyone, so long as you kept reaching a hand out for them--even when it sucked ass. So the redemption ending feels like a sort of indignance, an instant regret for not doing worse, for not getting comeuppance, for being forced to eschew satisfaction (related: I wonder if the Inquisitor feels those things as well coming out of this ending, considering how long they've lived under the shadow of Solas' actions). Conversely, the other two endings feel like an immediate satisfaction, because you got to trick the trickster with all the wits Varric taught you, or because you finally got to punch him in the face and it felt really good. But I feel like those endings would come with a creeping regret, something that sneaks up on you later, especially when remembering the fallen and what they would have wanted you to do. Ultimately, because of that, it feels like no ending is devoid of regret. Which I suppose, is rather thematic.
#i did actually watch the redemption ending on youtube with someone who had a male inquisitor and i felt less rageful about it lmao#it was the Convocation Of 3.5 Women i think that had me most like 'are you KIDDING me' about it#but also the areas where it feels bad or unsatisfying (to intervene like that i mean) are like. well yeah it would feel awful wouldn't it#to have to plead and persuade and TRUST someone to make the better choice by choosing the high road yourself#as it turns out the high road kind of sucks! it will probably feel better in the long run but at first blush it ain't fun!#so it's an interesting trade-off of regrets to be made between these endings. and really makes it clear that offering atonement#can kind of feel awful in your bones. even if it's the right thing to do. and so you do it anyway#*through gritted teeth* no one is past saving rook. i have to believe it or none of this matters#obviously user mileage may vary--if you really hated that guy maybe you didn't feel bad at all about choosing a harsher ending!#but this is based on MY pov and i know. if i'd chosen one of those ones i would have felt BAD about it#like i was letting down harding and varric#so i chose the ending that lacked personal catharsis because it's the one that honored my friends#which is interesting tbh as an exploration of regret as a theme#datv spoilers#rosie plays games kinda okay#that dragon sure does age
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"[Elizabeth Woodville's] piety as queen seems to have been broadly conventional for a fifteenth-century royal, encompassing pilgrimages, membership of various fraternities, a particular devotion to her name saint, notable generosity to the Carthusians, and the foundation of a chantry at Westminster after her son was born there. ['On other occasions she supported planned religious foundations in London, […] made generous gifts to Eton College, and petitioned the pope to extend the circumstances in which indulgences could be acquired by observing the feast of the Visitation']. One possible indicator of a more personal, and more sophisticated, thread in her piety is a book of Hours of the Guardian Angel which Sutton and Visser-Fuchs have argued was commissioned for her, very possibly at her request."
-J.L. Laynesmith, "Elizabeth Woodville: The Knight's Widow", Later Plantagenet and Wars of the Roses Consorts: Power, Influence, Dynasty
#historicwomendaily#elizabeth woodville#my post#friendly reminder that there's nothing indicating that Elizabeth was exceptionally pious or that her piety was 'beyond purely conventional'#(something first claimed by Anne Crawford who simultaneously claimed that Elizabeth was 'grasping and totally lacking in scruple' so...)#EW's piety as queen may have stood out compared to former 15th century predecessors and definitely stood out compared to her husband#but her actions in themselves were not especially novel or 'beyond normal' and by themselves don't indicate unusual piety on her part#As Laynesmith's more recent research observes they seem to have been 'broadly conventional'#A conclusion arrived at Derek Neal as well who also points out that in general queens and elite noblewomen simply had wider means#of 'visible material expression of [their] personal devotion' - and also emphasizes how we should look at their wider circumstances#to understand their actions (eg: the death of Elizabeth's son George in 1479 as a motivating factor)#It's nice that we know a bit about Elizabeth's more personal piety - for eg she seems to have developed an attachment to Westminster Abbey#It's possible her (outward) piety increased across her queenship - she undertook most of her religious projects in later years#But again - none of them indicate the *level* of her piety (ie: they don't indicate that she was beyond conventionally pious)#By 1475 it seems that contemporaries identified Cecily Neville as the most personally devout from the Yorkist family#(though Elizabeth and even Cecily's sons were far greater patrons)#I think people also assume this because of her retirement to Westminster post 1485#which doesn't work because 1) we don't actually know when she retired? as Laynesmith says there is no actual evidence for the traditional#date of 12 February 1487#2) she had very secular reasons for retiring (grief over the death of her children? her lack of dower lands or estates which most other#widows had? her options were very limited; choosing to reside in the abbey is not particularly surprising. it's a massive and unneeded jump#to claim that it was motivated solely by piety (especially because it wasn't a complete 'retirement' in the way people assume it was)#I think historians have a habit of using her piety as a GOTCHA!' point against her vilification - which is a flawed and stupid argument#Elizabeth could be the most pious individual in the world and still be the pantomime villain Ricardians/Yorkists claim she was#They're not mutually exclusive; this line of thinking is useless#I think this also stems from the fact that we simply know very little about Elizabeth as an individual (ie: her hobbies/interests)#certainly far less than we do for other prominent women Margaret of Anjou; Elizabeth of York;; Cecily Neville or Margaret Beaufort#and I think rather than emphasizing that gap of knowledge her historians merely try to fill it up with 'she was pious!'#which is ... an incredibly lackluster take. I think it's better to just acknowledge that we don't know much about this historical figure#ie: I do wish that her piety and patronage was emphasized more yes. but it shouldn't flip too far to the other side either.
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No matter how many times I see this panel their wording always irks me
"What you might call a hands-off parenting philosophy"
Helen from where I come from that is called child neglect, I don't know if you're intelligent enough to understand this concept but I'll leave it here in case you want to open your eyes. Otherwise look up to the sky, the sun may not blind you as much as you are right now
"Im so jealous!"
Of not being around your child? Would you rather follow their example and not be there at all? What a great way to come out as probably shitty mother Margaret
Anyway I'm not sure what type of person Melinda is yet but I sure hope Yor doesn't go to her and her friends for parenting advice. Lord helps Anya if she ever does listen to them
#spy x family#sxf manga#it is so interesting to me they say it casually because it's probably very much present in their society the idea that leaving a child >#> take care of their own and sadly so many parents probably do it they don't consider it may be concerning someone of their close circle or#even a stranger does it. They may lack many information but Melinda friends *know* the Desmonds are barely there for their kids#and they not only don't perceive it as weird or wrong but also applaud them for it#realistic picturing how others irl could view it if they came across a situation like that. Still sad for Damian and Demetrius#kinda 🚩🚩🚩 for someone who has a child imo#melinda desmond#btw I came up with those names on spot until now these are unnamed one appearance characters#in this house we respect Margarets and Helens. Just don't be like these women#sxf chapter 66
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does baldur's gate have women that are interesting??? i know there's at least one woman who's a huge bitch but is it actually like worthwhile to peel back the layers of her bitchery like with the wet vampire man everyone is obsessed with..... or are the compelling storylines / three-dimensional stuff / horrific torturous backstory all reserved for the damp cranky dudes. ppl who know things weigh in please
#i don't game and don't usually like story games but that may be because of a profound lack of interest in. most of what's going on#are there any bitches with tragic backstories who are just the worst most hennessy-like cunts alive. or would i be bored.#i want to have fun like other people are but if the women are boring i'll be disappointed and get my feelings hurt :(
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yes actually there is a conversation to be had about genetic advantages in combat sports of all kinds- mr phelps isnt going to physically harm the pool or his competitors.
#this topic surpasses the gender shit but can overlap i guess#someone with swyer syndrome may in fact have a genetic advantage in combat sport and thats fine to discuss#the lack of nuance im seeing is astounding#im so tired of seeing the debates of any nunace reduced to stupid comments#at some point we need to acknowledge testosterone is not the only measurement of whether someone has a genetic advantage or not#because there are other things that are relevant esp in combat sports and such#i cant even fit my thoughtts in the tags v well but maybe youll get some writing at some point#the main issue i have is people who have outright said they dont give two shits about womens sports suddenly acting like they care#you LITERALLY said no one cares about womens sports so i dont give a SI NG LE SHIT about your thoughts on the nuances of womens sporting#that is both to people on the left and right who have said that shit#like shut up lol you just want a new topic of drama its not good faith
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It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.
I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.
I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.
I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)
I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.
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──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 1: 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑
title: poker face synopsis: luckily, mr. zero didn't knew you were a mugiwara. luckily, mr. zero fell for your bluffs. unfortunately, you never imagined it would be that hard to not fall for crocodile's charm. [3.1K] cw: mugiwara!fem!reader, strip poker, strip tease, public sex, cock crush, nipple stimulation, size difference, fingering (f!receiving), riding, biting, scratching, finger sucking, p in v, creampie, possessive behavior, mob boss meets a baddie, pussy so good he wonders about marriage.
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With a thick cigar between his teeth, Crocodile forced himself to smile. “Five of a kind”, he dropped his cards on the table. “Seems like the house won. Again.”
Crocodile’s presence in Rain Dinners works to reinforce his reputation as a hero in this wretched island. Unfortunately, it also means Crocodile is tormented by the most boring clientele.
To watch someone gambling everything they own out of delusional hope and losing it all because of sheer mischance is only interesting the first few hundreds of times. Now, all Crocodile feels is disdain.
He curses those vermin that stole the joy of victory.
Murmuring complaints, two bettors left the table. The croupier stretched his arm, reaching for the cards left far away from him. As the cards were shuffled, Crocodile took in the chance to observe the tables nearby. Searching for chaos to be dealt with, such a common occurrence in a casino, an unusual sight stole his attention.
A long, thick, light pelted fur coat. Crocodile inhaled the smoke, holding it in. Admiring you with that coat over your shoulders, no one would’ve imagined this is the middle of a desert. And still, you didn’t break a sweat.
One of the bettors decided it was the right moment to thank Crocodile for his protection over Alabasta. He did his best to sound modest, heroic. To embody the last hope of this dying island. The moment a white blur entered his peripheral vision, Crocodile simply ignored the man’s existence.
With a hand over the chair’s top rail, you stared directly at the croupier. “May I?”, you asked, voice sultry as the desert.
Crocodile took the cigar out of his mouth, releasing the smoke in the direction opposite from you. “Made just in time”, he moved his hand towards the croupier ready to start. “Do you know how to play, hon’?”
You took a sip from your glass, not bothering to answer him. Placing your coat over the chair’s rail, you reached inside its pocket and took the poker chip’s box. You left it open on the table, emerald dress moving on your body as you sat down and crossed your legs.
The box was filled to the brim.
Your lack of interest on him ignited something within Crocodile. Curiosity. Something far more interesting than gambling against weak bluffs. “New to poker?”, Crocodile smiled devilish. The sort of smile that make pretty women like you forget about decency.
If only you had looked at him.
“New to this island”, you answered, sounding as bored as Crocodile was before you got there. The way you danced around his question was enough for him to know you didn’t want the others to think of you as an easy target. Usually, Crocodile would simply profit on it. This time, with you staring straight into his eyes, he couldn’t care less about this game. “Is it worth?”
“It will be.”
A promise Crocodile intended to fulfill.
Feeling his gaze burning your skull, to not smile was never so difficult. If you were weaker, you would’ve laugh until your cheeks fell apart from your face. How funny. How alluring. Ah, Luffy really told you the truth.
Your life will be funnier around me, Luffy gave you the brightest smile you ever saw. Stroking your cheek, he cleaned the trace of tears. I will never let you get bored.
A Shichibukai stands before you, unable to see you as part of the threat he is so interest in dealing with. The man that sent thousands of bounty hunters after your crew, that forced Vivi to witness as unnecessary violence tore her nation in pieces, doesn’t even know that you’re part of the group he wants to exterminate.
Good. That means the plan of distracting Crocodile has a chance of working.
Each bettor made an initial contribution for the deal to start. At every round, you raised the amount of chips. It didn’t matter if others were dropping out of the deal or if Crocodile doubled the bet with no hesitance. You simply continued to bet more.
That was alluring. It told more about you than your pretty lips could. You’re not here to make money. You’re not here to waste it. You’re here for amusement. And that Crocodile can give you any time.
“Showdown”, the croupier called. “Please, bettors, show your hands.”
The woman sitting beside you sighed, showing two pairs. Two bettors had dropped out, choosing to wait until the next deal. You placed your cards on the table. 4, 3, K, 10, 10. One pair. “Does that mean anything?”
The first man to drop out chuckled. “Only that you lost.”
Lost in the way your smile spread across your face, the croupier had to remind Crocodile it was his time to show the cards. “Three of a kind”, he murmured. This time, he put no effort into acting as if he cared that he won. Crocodile just wanted to learn more about you. “Do you know the rules?”
“Does it really matter?”, your bright smile was enough to enlighten the whole place. As the croupier changed the card sets, you gave him your solely attention. “The best liar wins at the end.”
“No surprise you haven’t won yet”, Crocodile smirked. He spread his legs, cigar between his fingers. His golden hook glistened, reminding you of the threat he represented simply by breathing. “It’s so easy to see right through you.”
But not to see how I stole all those chips from you, was what you thought. “Seems like a failure of mine”, was what you said out loud.
With a movement of his hand, a waiter approached. Crocodile whispered into his ear; eyes still fixated on you. Intoxicated on his presence, you forgot to look away. What a tempting man. From then on, your glass never remained empty.
Deal after deal, you continued to lose just as Crocodile continued to win. Deal after deal, you continued to answer just as Crocodile continued to ask.
Until there were only you two left at the casino. You let go of your glass and closed the poker chip’s box, raising from the chair. “Should have expected a pirate to be a good gambler.” You took your coat, walking away from the table. “Have a good night, Crocodile.”
“One last deal?” Crocodile was quick to offer. Desperately, you would add. “And then we call it.”
You raised the empty box. “I have nothing left to bet.”
And at that, Crocodile saw his last chance of amusing you. “Then let’s bet everything we have.”
Sat down again, chin supported by your palm, you frowned. The wine had started to affect you both. “And by that you mean…”
“Everything”, Crocodile spread his legs, resting his hook on his thick thigh. You told yourself he was begging for you to stare, but you weren’t that sure of it. “Every chip on this table. Everything on our bodies.”
As he closed his mouth, a part of Crocodile feared his proposition would offend you. It doesn’t happen often, but there is a chance he misread your signals.
“I’ve been eyeing your rings since I sat here”, you wondered out loud. “Just as you been eyeing my dress.”
But to be so straight to the point… Crocodile wasn’t quite expecting that. It was what he wanted, but to see how you two were connected made harder for him to breath.
Then you sighed.
“As tempting as it is,” and you were standing again. Crocodile hated to see that. He would hate even more to see you leaving. “It is also getting late. Like I said, I’m new to this island.”
“You have nothing to fear”, Crocodile bargained. “Not when I’m around.”
“But you won’t be around on my way back to the hotel.”
“Then stay here”, he offered. You arched an eyebrow. “I don’t intent on letting you walk away that easily. I’m a pirate. I’m used to taking what I want for myself.”
For an eternity, you both stared into each other’s eyes. A silent negotiation. His final offering, your final chance of doing the right thing and walking away from danger. You could see his very soul. How it burned just beneath the surface. Crocodile felt the same heat coming from you.
The croupier forced a cough, remind you of his presence. It took much of his strength for Crocodile to not kill him right then and there.
“Shuffle the cards and leave”, you ordered.
He obeyed. Quickly. You both took a look at your cards sets. A smile died within you. A smirk grew on Crocodile’s face. The moment the croupier closed the exit door, Crocodile showed his hand.
Crocodile looked even bigger than he already was, filled with the confidence of a winner. “Four of a kind.”
Dropping your hand on the table, you were the winner he believed to be. “Royal flush”, you smiled. “Pretty sure that’s the highest since we’re not using any wild cards.”
Shock was a good look on Crocodile. After analyzing your cards, his gaze returned to you. “You said you didn’t know how to play.”
“Oh”, you drank the last sip from your glass. “Did I?”
And at your answer, all he could do was laugh. Crocodile ran his hand through his black hair. “You hustle me”, he whispered. Crocodile wasn’t able to get rid of this genuine smile.
Your laugh was real too. It made Crocodile breath in your scent, get drunk on the sweet sound coming from you. Not a bluff, not an act. It was real, and it only made you more beautiful. “And now you have a debt to pay.”
His face darkened, reminding you of who he is. You hustled Crocodile. You hustled Crocodile. You never thought of yourself as a stupid woman, but here you are. For fucks sake. Luffy really is rubbing on you.
Crocodile bended over the table, his broad shoulders creating a shadow over you. His hand grabbed your chair’s arm, his hook moving your chin upwards. A strand of hair fell in front of his orange eyes, and looking into them you felt like a powerless prey about to be ravished.
Face lurking inches above yours, Crocodile smiled devilish. A smile that made you forget about decency, focusing only on the promise of more of him. More of the man that wants to kill you. “Enjoy the show”, Crocodile whispered.
His blue scarf was the first to be throw away, and neither of you cared about where it would land. His long fingers worked on the buttons of the rumpled black-striped vest, so slowly you almost took it off of Crocodile by yourself.
The peach shirt beneath showed a portion of his wide chest and instead of finally getting rid of it, Crocodile held the leather belt around his waist.
He had so much fun teasing you, admiring how you couldn’t look away. A man as handsome must feel entitled to the silent praise. He really thought he was the one in charge, didn’t he? And for long enough, Crocodile was.
You’re a lot of things, but you’re not patient.
Leaning against the chair, you raised your leg. The silver heel brushed against his pants, from down on his ankle until the insides of his thigh. And when your painted nails shined right in front of his crotch, you forced your feet against it.
“Stop playing around.” Cocking your head, eyes explored his still covered up body. “Don’t make me wait.”
Crocodile grabbed your ankles, calloused hand stroking softly your skin. It wasn’t a rough touch, but not less possessive because of it. You put more pressure, making him groan. “You are insane.”
“And why is that?”
“Anyone else would fear me”, Crocodile’s voice reminded you of velvet and sharp knives. It lingered on your ears. “And here you are. Demanding more.”
You sighed, fingers brushing against your lips. That voice… it was your last straw. Fighting his hold, you put your foot down on the ground. You grabbed his shirt, pushing him back until Crocodile sat down on his chair again.
He opened his mouth as you sat down on his lap, but you gave him no time to do anything. “You talk too much.”
Holding the chair’s top rail as leverage, you dive into him. Tooth biting his lower lip, tongue forcing a passage into his warm mouth. Your free hand found a spot on his large neck, bringing Crocodile closer to you. Instead of waiting, you took what you wanted for yourself.
Just like a pirate would.
She isn’t fragile, Crocodile thought. She won’t break.
Sinking into you, Crocodile forgot about self-control. He simply ravished you, just like you demanded of him. A wild animal and nothing more. Exploring your mouth as if it was his to control, hand grabbing your soft skin without a care about finesse or decorum. Crocodile pressed his hook against your chest, enjoying how it didn’t stop you from moving as you wanted to.
You got him out of that stupidly tight shirt, hands scratching his chest as your hips moved on top of his crotch. He forced you down, putting your whole weight upon himself, and ripped your emerald dress into pieces with his hook.
“You’ll pay for this one.”
It was a complain, but your fingers working to unbutton his pants made clear you couldn’t care less. His kisses travelled to your neck, tongue leaving a trail of drool on your shoulder, mouth closing against your nipples. Your fingers intertwined with his hair, encouraging Crocodile to continue.
“I will get you anything you want”, he said, voice muffled. He couldn’t get away from your body to speak. “You burn hotter than the fuckin desert.”
No shame, no hesitation. Freed from his pants, you licked your palm before grabbing his cock. You pumped him with zero delicacy, thumb pressing against the dark, sensitive head. Just like everything in Crocodile, it was big enough to make you wonder.
As if he could read you mind, Crocodile slid his hand into your panties. Long fingers explored your lips, precise with every movement. Thumb pressing against your clit, two fingers against your wet slit. His hook brushed against your thigh, arm locking around you to press you down on his fingers.
Your loud moan embarrassed your very soul, but all Crocodile did was laugh. His teeth closed around your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. That’ll mark you for sure. “Ride me, hon’.”
With your nails deep into his back, you stretched yourself on Crocodile’s fingers. You bit his earlobe, brushing your face against his as you speed up your movements. In your hand, his cock throbbed. Crocodile was leaking, burning in the same way you do.
“Take what you want”, you whispered against his ear. “Fuck me already.”
It happened so quickly, you barely understood how he moved. A second before you were on his lap, two fingers deep into your hungry cunt, lips around his ear. Then you were sat on the table, poker chips falling on the floor, Crocodile standing between your legs.
A fucking monster.
Crocodile took his drenched fingers from you, and wasted no time before sucking them clean. He grabbed your thighs, exposing yourself from him. “She’s delicious”, Crocodile stared at your pussy. His fingers pulled your lips apart. “Will get me addicted to her.”
Using your legs, you got him even closer to you. Crocodile grabbed your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss. Fighting against your tongue, he fit the head of his cock into you. You moaned into his mouth.
Moving your heels against his thighs, you forced him inside of you. A stupid decision. Your head collapsed against his shoulder, the entirety of his length touching all the right places. So good, so right, so… much.
Crocodile wasn’t in that much of a better situation. Eyes closes tightly, lips hanging open as a deep cry escaped. So wet, so warm. Moving slowly, Crocodile chortled. He had no control over his mind anymore.
“Don’t you dare stopping”, you manage to say. “Just… fu-fuck, just like that.”
Deep thrusts as his fingers worked on your clit: Crocodile wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than you wanted. He could feel your drool gathering on his shoulder. How your fingers were deep into his forearms, or how the hold of your legs around his waist weakened.
All Crocodile wanted was to make you as addicted to him as he already was to you. To get you to scream his name, begging for more and more. He wanted you to take from him. To get what you wanted. And Crocodile wanted everything you could give him.
Feeling waves of pleasure washing over you, mind empty as a white canvas, you tilted your head back. Eyes half-open, you admired him. His raw lips, face covered in sweat. Marks of lipstick all over his chest, just as deep nail marks and surface scratched. You looked down, watching as he entered you.
“You are worth way more than eighty million.”
Crocodiled bended, tongue playing with your aching nipple. “After my head, hon’?”, he sucked on them. You stroked his hair, enjoying how primal Crocodile looked.
“Do I look insane?”, you moaned.
Crocodile looked into your eyes, face near yours. You placed your arms around his shoulders, but he held you in place. Crocodile simply looked at you. As if there was something new, something he never saw before.
“You do”, Crocodile whispered. It felt so intimate. For a moment, you weren’t being fucked in an empty casino. For a moment, you two were sharing a secret. “You’re perfect.”
You melted against him. Lost on your orgasm, you unlearned how to breath. The fact you couldn’t think didn’t stop Crocodile from kissing you. As you closed around him, Crocodile reached his limit. Tooth deep into your throat, he marked you again.
Tears formed behind your eyes, throat aching as you finally breathed again. You laid your head on his chest, feeling it rising with his unregulated breathes. A firm hand held your waist, his nose stopped in the union of your shoulder and neck. His biting hurt so good, just like your scratches on his skin.
When Crocodile opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hand holding onto the table. He looked at the fours rings you said caught your attention. And he saw how there was only one finger lacking a ring.
Insane, Crocodile thought. She’s making me insane.
As his hips moved away, a cry left your throat as he emptied your pussy, your legs finally stopped working. Crocodile took his cigar from the ashtray, smoking it for a few seconds. When he released the smoke, you grabbed his chin and made him face you. Inhaling it, you closed your eyes.
Not a second after you let it go, his hand and hook slid beneath your thighs. Effortlessly, Crocodile took you from the table. Your shaken legs closed around his waist as he carried you. “What you doing?”
Crocodile finally looked into your eyes again. He smiled, and it was genuinely. “Taking what I want for myself.”
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Show Me | Older!Eddie x F!Virgin Reader
Anonymous asked: I loved your post about Eddie x virgin!reader so much💞Do you think you could write older!Eddie x virgin reader?
Anonymous asked: Inexperienced!reader giving Eddie a handjob and a blowjob for the first time?
Cw: ten-year age gap, sex toys, female masturbation, the reader is kinda a perv (oops), Eddie is also kinda a perv (oops), reader first time giving oral, reader first time having sex, pet names.
CW: 7.1k It's long again, I'm sorry! idk how to do short
Moving trucks have been parked in your neighbour's driveway for about two days. You had always liked the Kaminskys, but they were older and now moving to a retirement community. This is the second day of moving trucks, and the new owners are moving in today. You have yet to receive much information from the realtor regarding the new neighbours, but you hope they'll be pleasant. You had already baked something to welcome them to the neighbourhood, in hopes that it could be a younger family or couple. Perhaps someone closer to your age?
You moved to this town around three years back when you received your first job offer after completing your college degree. You had saved up enough money to buy a one-bedroom house for a very affordable price. Although it required some repairs, you were happy with it because it allowed you to decorate it according to your liking. You loved the neighbourhood even if you were the only twenty-five-year-old on the block.
As you looked out from behind your front rooms curtains, you could see the movers unloading a big moving truck. There was one person among them who really caught your attention. You had never seen him before. It was a small town and you lived in a quiet suburb by the water in the south of Michigan. Everyone knew everyone, and you hadn’t seen this man before.
He appeared to be in his mind to late 30s and had a muscular build. His brown wavy hair was tied back in a low bun that connected with the five o clock shadow in his face. He was wearing a tight black ribbed tank top that showcased the tattoos covering both his arms and hands. He was hot... Way too hot not to have not ever been seen or talked about in your small lakefront town. Upon further observation, it became apparent that he was not wearing the attire of a mover.
Oh my god. He must be the new neighbour.
“Please be single, please be single, please be single,” you chanted as you hastily went to your closet in search of an outfit that looked cute so that you could introduce yourself.
You took your time getting ready; he obviously needed time to unload, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him…. And whoever else might be moving in.
God, you hoped he didn’t have a wife or whatever.
You shook your head to get rid of your rambling internal thoughts. You took a deep breath and told yourself to chill the fuck out. You could do this. You’ll go over in your sweet little sundress, introduce yourself, and offer him the chocolate cake you baked…
You weren't as excited as you were last night while baking it, now you were just nervous. You imagined a sweet family moving in with a newborn - a couple your age with whom you could become really close friends. But now, you are faced with a hot and sexy bad boy neighbour who may or may not have a wife and kids. Maybe he wasn’t into women at all?! That would suck. This situation is making you feel extremely anxious and overwhelmed due to your lack of interactions with the opposite sex.
To say you haven’t had a lot of experience was an understatement. You went through high school without a boyfriend. You went through college without a boyfriend. You weren’t into drunken hookups with random strangers for your first sexual experience. You went on many first dates, but nothing ever came of those many first dates. So you waited. And waited.
You thought that maybe you would meet somebody through work and then it would happen, but you’ve been so caught up with working and renovating your house your social life has taken a step back.
Of course, you wanted to find someone. To finally be with someone in a sexual way. To give yourself wholly to someone. Nothing ever went past kissing and or being felt up. But that was the extent of your sexual experience with another person.
Your sexual experience with yourself, on the other hand, was pretty standard. You've got your toys to get by. The first time you gave yourself a real orgasm from the vibrator you bought, it changed your world. Slowly, you worked your way up to toys you could insert once you got a little braver. So technically, yes, you hadn't slept with another person, but now you were more than ready to explore and get out there. You wanted that connection with someone.
So, about half an hour after the moving truck left, you worked up the courage to walk over and knock on the front door. You gave yourself a once-over before leaving. You wore a white sundress with tiny red cherries that fell mid-thigh, your hair was pulled back with a matching red hairband, and you had a fresh, subtle makeup look.
With a deep breath, you held that cake with all your might to ensure you didn't drop it and you simply knocked on the door.
"Just a second," You heard a deep voice call out. A few long seconds later, the door opens, and you're face to face with a wet, shirtless man in just a towel. As you suspected, it was the man you saw unloading the boxes.Fucking hell, He was attractive, with a toned body covered in tattoos. Your gaze drifted to his towel hanging low on his hips. -"Oh shit, sorry, let me just uh- I'll be right back," He sputtered as he realized he was basically naked in front of a young woman, most likely his neighbour.
"Sorry, I can come back later!" to try to fight off the blood rushing to your face.
"No- no, just, uh-hang on!' You hear him yell from inside the house. He came back out wearing black sweatpants which he had cut himself to make into shorts and a plain black tee shirt.
"Hi." He smiles as he walks back onto the front porch where you stood.
"Hi, I'm sorry. I should have waited a little longer to come introduce myself." You laugh uncomfortably.
"Nah, it's okay; not every day I'm greeted by a pretty girl with a cake." He smirks.
"What? Oh yea, I uh- just wanted to welcome you and uh your...wife?"
He shakes his head no.
"Your partner?"
Another no.
"Kid?" you try one last time. And he smiles with a chuckle.
"Anyway, I baked a cake just to say welcome." You shoved the plate into his chest, almost smushing it into his shirt.
"Thank you, that's very kind."
"You're welcome. So, um, I guess I'll get going; leave you to it." You turn to walk down the steps.
"Wait! What's your name?" you wince. You're so nervous you didn't even introduce yourself.
"I'm sorry." You giggled uncomfortably.
"I'm Eddie Munson," he smiled. His smile was infectious; you smiled back and gave him your name.
"Pretty name for a pretty girl."
"Um- thanks." You shy into yourself.
"So you said you live next door?"
"Yeah, uh, I'm just over at forty-four." You motion over your shoulder to your house.
"You live there with your folks?" He cocks his head.
"No, Mr. Munson. It's all mine, mine alone." You giggle.
"You don't look old enough," he squints suspiciously.
"I would like to have you know I am twenty-five." You say proudly.
"Oh well, pardon me." He smiled. This made Eddie feel much better about being so attracted to you. God forbid you were still living at home with your parents. He would feel like a total creep.
"Anyways, I uh should get going," you point over your shoulder.
"Oh, ok, well, um, once I'm done setting up, please stop by whenever. I could use a familiar face around... being new to town and all."
"Sure thing, it was nice meeting you. Mr. Munson." you smile.
"Please call me Eddie!" He called as you walked back over to your house,
"Enjoy the cake!" You give a small wave.
"Oh, I will." Before you turn back, you watch as he takes a finger, dips it in the icing, and puts it in his mouth without breaking eye contact... you hadn't witnessed anything so sensual. You almost trip over your sandals as you scurry back into your house.
All of your interactions with Eddie over the next week were flirtatious. He managed to make your heart beat faster than any man had before.
After a week and a half, Eddie finally organized the house. His furniture was set up, and most of the moving boxes had been emptied. He would see you when you came home from work in the evenings as he sat on his porch with a cigarette.
"Hey, Eddie," You would blush,
"Hey, sweetheart" He would smile back without fail.
If anyone else were to call you that, you'd want to clock them; however, coming out of Eddie's mouth? Somehow, it made you swoon.
"Hey, um, you don't have to, but would you want to join me for dinner? Tonight? I am sure you're exhausted from unpacking, and I'm a pretty good cook... unless you hated my cake so feel free to say no.-" You rambled on.
"I'd love to join you for dinner. That's very sweet of you to offer." This was so new for Eddie. Neighbours being neighbourly. He was always the outcast in his town growing up. Now, at thirty-five, he is finally saved up enough to get out of town, start fresh, and open his own autobody shop. Have an actual house of his own, not that he wasn't grateful for his uncle and the trailer park.
Here, he could be anyone he wanted to be. He met some of the townspeople, and they seemed nice enough when he told them he would be taking over for Mr. Sanders's mechanic shop.
"Okay, great! I'm just going to get changed, I'll leave the door open; feel free to come in and make yourself at home whenever you're ready." You motioned to him and his cigarette."
"Thanks, Sunshine." He smiled that smile you couldn't overcome, and you rushed inside to find a n outfit that didn’t scream ‘I work for corporate America.’
You made your way up to your loft, which doubled as your bedroom that overlooked the living area and kitchen. You were in the middle of stripping when you heard the front door open; only then did you realize that when you told him to make himself at home, you had forgotten the minor detail that he would be able to see you changing. You scurried into your walk-in closet with a squeak so he wouldn't have dinner and a show.
"Sunshine?" He asked, walking into your home.
"I'll be down in a minute!" You yell as you scramble to find your jean shorts.
"Take your time." He walks around your home, observing your picture gallery.
"Help yourself to a beer or whatever you want in the fridge."
"Thanks."
As you walk back down your stairs, you see Eddie sitting on your couch, beer in hand. Man-spread with an arm around the top of the sofa. You wished you could be by his side, arm around you instead.
"Good, you made yourself at home."
"Well, Sweets, I am a good listener." He tilted his head back, taking a swig from the bottle. You watched his Adam's apple bob in his long throat, and you thought about what it would feel like to kiss it.
"Any dietary restrictions?" You ask, shaking yourself from your dirty thoughts.
"Nah..." He shakes his head. "So, how did you swing a place like this at your age?"
It felt like a dig; maybe he just saw you as a kid... you would change his mind on that.
"Um, well, I got it on foreclosure; you should have seen it; it was a mess, and everyone wanted to tear it down, but I had a vision. It took a few years, but it's finally finished. I had some help from my grandmother's inheritance, but it wasn't much. So I worked my ass off, and here we are" you spoke as you got together the pots and ingredients.
"Looks like you're doing well for yourself" He smiled as he watched you bend over, unintentionally showing off your cute plump ass.
"Yeah, I guess. So what do you do?" you turn and catch him staring at your behind.
"Well, I just bought the auto shop off Mr. Sander's, so if you're ever in any car trouble, I'm your guy." He smiles.
"Good to know; I know nothing when it comes to my Ruby."
"Ruby?"
"Yeah, my car, she's red, so I named her Ruby."
"That's cute; it suits you."
You don't say much after you start cooking; you are in the zone, ensuring everything is perfect.
"So, what's a girl like you do around here for fun?"
"A girl like me?"
"Yeah, young, beautiful." He takes a bite like what he said was obvious.
"Umm well... work mostly. We have block parties, it is all families around here; my friends all live in the city." You take a sip of beer to settle your nerves.
"This is really good." He motions to the plate of food in front of him.
"You know what? We are having our town's Fourth of July party on Saturday. Everyone goes, you should come! I can show you around more, introduce you to more people, and you can spread the word about your new business opening up next week."
"Yeah, I'd really like that."
After Eddie had thanked you for the meal, he stayed a few more hours; you enjoyed his company. He respectfully kissed you on the cheek goodnight, and you made your way straight up to your room with your toys because you couldn't stand it any longer.
Eddie made you feel like your body was on fire. When he would lightly graze his fingertips along your bare arm or when he would compliment you. His voice alone made your lower tummy tingle.
You pulled out your trusty rabbit that never failed you. You felt dirty, but Eddie had you so worked up you needed relief.
As you lay on your bed, you strip yourself down to nothing. You think about how Eddie’s big, strong hands would tease your body. Working yourself up in your mind. You got wetter by the second.
You imagined how his voice would sound as you imagined the filthy words that would come out of that perfectly plump mouth. That mouth you wanted all over your body.
You imagined, pictured, and played a movie of Eddie and you in your head until you got so worked up that you couldn’t take it anymore. Your clit was screaming at you to be touched. You turned on the toy, it came to life, and your body quivered with anticipation. Your body sprang to life as you slowly worked the toy around your wet hole and then plunged in the dildo. You went deeper and deeper until the little vibrator at the top of the toy hit your clit.
Your body arched up as you felt the waves of pleasure wash through your veins. You pumped the toy in and out of your wet pussy, thinking about your older neighbour. How hot he looked in nothing but that towel when you first met. How your pussy clenched at the sight of his happy trail. How his muscles formed a V travelling right to where you wanted most. You could see his bulge under the white fluffy bath towel wrapped around his waist. You thought about how good his flesh would feel against yours as he pumped his cock inside of you like how you were with your toy.
“Oh, Eddie!” You moaned, forgetting your window was open for the summer breeze you loved to feel in the night.
Your free hand travels to your breast; you tweak your sensitive nipple and moan out again. Your white transparent curtains fluttered with the wind, but you were too wrapped up in your fantasy to notice.
When Eddie got home he went straight into his new bedroom and opened his window because the evening breeze was blowing. He then got ready for bed and was reading when he heard his name. His head shot up, thinking he was hearing things. Then, he listened to another sultry moan. He took off his reading glasses and got up to investigate. His eyes shot wide open as he saw your silhouette through your curtains. He saw your the outline of your body, how your hand worked where he wanted to put his cock the most.
It was wrong, it was so wrong, but now Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of the image in front of him. He tried walking away, and he almost did, but when he heard your sweet voice moan his name again, his feet were planted on the ground. This only confirmed that you were as attracted to him as he was to you. He had thought so tonight at dinner but now he would dare to go for it. Ask you out for real.
Your body felt like it was on fire the way the toy vibrated throughout your body. The pressure kept building and building until you were on the brink. Your body seized as your pussy clamped down on the dildo inside of you. Your eyes rolled back into your head as the waves of pleasure washed over your entirety. You caught your breath and knew that Eddie was the one you wanted to be with. He was the one; if he could make you feel this good in your fantasies, you can only imagine how it would be for real.
Eddie was nervous, even though you had confirmed, unintentionally, that you were attracted to him; it had been a while since he asked out about a girl he liked, especially when he was about to ask out one who was ten years younger.
Saturday couldn't come soon enough. You had asked Eddie as a friend, but Eddie would treat it as a date, and he would make sure you knew it was a date. You were excited to spend time with Eddie again after your dinner. It had only been four days, but the anticipation was creeping in. You were so surprised when he showed up at your door with flowers.
"Eddie, you didn't have to do this, but thank you!" you smiled as you sniffed the daisies.
"Of course I did; what kind of date would I be if I showed up empty-handed?" He smirked as he stepped into your house as you went to get a vase for your flowers.
“A date, huh?” You smirked over your shoulder.
“Yes. A date”
“Okay,” you smile as you take his hand in yours and lock up your house.
Eddie was smitten; he had you on his arm, and he felt like the king of the world. You were also smitten. Finally, you were on a date with someone who you were very interested in.
Eddie was funny and charming, and you found out he was really nerdy, but it was only much more endearing. You learned how he played guitar and was in a high school garage band that landed a few gigs at the local bar. The more you got to know him, the more you wanted to be with him.
Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off you as the night went on, and you enjoyed it. When he wasn't holding your hand, he was holding your waist; if he wasn't holding your waist, his arm was draped over your shoulder.
When the fireworks started, you gazed up at the sky together, wrapped up in one another warmth as the cool breeze of the lake came through. Halfway through the show, he went to kiss the top of your head but you had moved to look up at him, and you caught his lips with yours. Just like the fireworks in the sky, there were fireworks between the both of you. When you both pulled back, you could see in his eyes that he felt it, too.
You finished off the night hand in hand as he walked you home. He kissed you good night like a perfect gentleman, and you bid one another a goodnight.
You were so giddy and excited about Eddie. The more you went out, the more time you wanted to spend with him. You were finishing your third official date when you asked him to join you inside your place for a nightcap.
Things moved quickly once you settled inside. Your drinks were hardly touched. Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off you.m as you made out like a couple of horny teenagers in the couch.
Your mind was racing. Why hadn’t you told him you’re a virgin? You invited him in. He’s probably expecting sex… oh god, what if he’s turned off by the fact that you’re not experienced?
“We can slow down if you want.” he pulled away; he had sensed something was off. You became stiff and seemed like you weren't into the makeout anymore.
“I’m sorry. I’m just a bit nervous… I’m -uh just out of practice…” you shied.
“That’s okay we can take it slow.” He stroked your cheek.
“Are you sure?” You twiddled with his fingers that are resting on your thigh.
“Of course. We can go at your speed.”
“I need to tell you something.” You looked down at the floor. He nodded his head but then spoke because you weren’t looking at him.
“I’ve never… I uh. Shit. I’ve never been with anyone before.”
“What?” Eddie was dumbfounded. How? There was no way he heard you correctly.
“I’m a virgin.” You pull away, but Eddie reaches for you.
“oh wow. I wasn't expecting that... uh- but that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” he comforts you.
“But I do want to,” you rush out. “It’s not like I’m waiting for marriage; it just hasn’t happened…”
“We will go at your pace” Eddie smiled.
“Thank you”
You shift closer to him, wanting to kiss him again, especially after being so cool with everything.
You leaned in to kiss him again, but he was hesitant.
“You sure, sunshine?”
“Yea” you sigh into his mouth.
Eddie grabs the back of your head so he can pull you in closer.
Your hand rested on his knee. As you continued to kiss him your hand bravely traveled up his thigh.
“Woah, hold on, sunshine.” He rested his hand on yours to stop moving.
Oh my gosh, this is it. He had come to his senses. He’s rejecting you.
"You sure you want to go there? Because if we keep going, I will want to do things to you, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable if you're not ready."
"I promise. I've waited so long for the right guy, and I'm ready, trust me." If he only knew about your little collection of toys upstairs.
"We don't have to go all the way tonight okay?"
"Yeah, okay." You nodded your head with anticipation. Okay, this was good. He accepted you, and he still wanted to fool around.
You returned to making out on your couch, and the heavy petting ensued. This time, Eddie didn't stop your advances as your hand travelled up his thigh to the crease of his leg and up his crotch. Your hand felt around his bulge through his jeans. There was no denying that he was turned on. The way his cock strained against the thick black fabric should have been illegal. It must have been uncomfortable for him. You just had to let it spring free.
You shifted your weight forward to get closer to him. To feel him. His thighs were thick and defined. You could also feel how hard they were. Your mind wandered to how they would feel to sit on.
Before you knew it, your body was moving before your brain could catch up. One leg draped over his, and you were mounted on Eddie's leg. His deliciously thick leg. You just did what felt right; as you sat down on Eddie, the pressure situated onto your pussy felt so delicious. Your hips started rocking back and forth, building up a rhythm.
You heard and felt Eddie moan in your mouth, and this only enticed you on to keep going, your body driven by pleasure.
"That feel good, baby?" He cooed in your ear before he started kissing down your neck.
"Mmmmhmmm." You nodded frantically, eyes shut, not daring to look at him.
"Good girl, keep going." You felt his big hands grip the top of your ass as he helped you rock your hips against his jeans. The pressure in your lower stomach was building and building; you could feel your orgasm as close.
“Fuck that’s it, use me”
Fuck, you haven't gotten off by dry-humping something in years. Not since you found your first vibrator.
"You close, baby girl?" He whispered against your lips as you kept kissing him. A muffled yes was said, and before you could continue to speak, waves of pleasure washed over your whole body. It stared from your clit and radiated up like it travelled through your bloodstream straight to your head.
Your movements slowed, and you managed to catch your breath; Eddie was still hard as a rock under his jeans, and there was no way you weren't going to help out with that.
You mimicked the way Eddie kissed your neck on Eddie. Your tongue moved the way he moved on your neck. Your hands worked in tandem with your mouth. Your fingers worked to open his jeans as you kept kissing on sucking on Eddie's long tattooed neck.
"You don't have to, Sugar," he panted, but you could hear in his tone that he was excited. He wanted this as much as you did... maybe even more.
"But I want to, Eddie." You batted your eyelashes, and you pulled away to let him see your playful pout.
You've watched enough porn and heard enough of your friend's stories to know what you're doing. Sure, the first and only time you saw a dick in real life was in your third year at uni when you tried to go down on the guy you were out with but then got scared, and he walked you home... but you got this! You're an adult woman who knows what she wants, and what she wants is right at her fingertips.
Your little pep talk in your head must have been evident on your face because Eddie started speaking again.
"You done this before?" He asks gently, not judgingly. You shake your head slightly in return.
"You want me to guide you?"
You nodded your head yes. You wanted to be good and do it right.
"Kay," He smiled.
Eddie told you how to work your hands slowly, teasingly at first, not too much but not too little. And no sudden sharp yanking movements at first... You listened, and when you were ready, you moved his boxers down, and his cock was released. It was so big, so much bigger than you thought it would be. The one you saw was a least half the size of Eddie's.
"Oh my god," You gasped.
"It's okay, sugar; he won't bite." Eddie kissed you to make you feel more comfortable. Your hand travelled back to his cock so you could grip it in your hand, not too hard, but not too gently like Eddie had said. The tip produced a bead of precum that was already leaking out, which was a good sign. Your fingers brushed over the head, and Eddie sucked in a breath.
"Did I hurt you?" you dropped his cock from your release.
"No, quite the opposite, baby."
"Oh," you giggled. You picked up where you left off, stroking his cock in your grip, teasing it and feeling it. You were surprised by how velvety the skin felt.
As you continued to make up with Eddie, cock in hand. You suddenly felt braver, and the need to have him in your mouth grew stronger. You slinked your way off the couch so you were sat in front of him on your knees, eyes and mouth level with his behemoth that he calls his cock.
“You sure, little one?" He asked, and you nodded your head with a smile. You moved before your surge of confidence broke.
You sat up a little more and moved his cock towards you, and tentatively licked the tip. You continued your kitten licks a few more times before enveloping his tip in your warm, wet mouth. You peered up at Eddie through your long lashes; he looked like he was enjoying himself, so you must have been doing something right? You swirled your tongue along the tip before dipping you're head down lower to take more of him. Eddie let out a moan, and this made you smile. Yes, you were doing something right. So you continued, lower and lower.
You'd be lying if you didn't say you've tested your gag reflex on one of the dildos you own; where is the fun in that? But now that it was a real mans cock in your mouth, you understood the hype about giving head. You genuinely liked it so far, but that's probably due to Eddie and how comfortable he makes you feel.
"You sure you've never done this before?" He managed to get out.
"uhhhhuuhhhhhh" You moned against his cock and that only jerked Eddie's hip up into you.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that just felt really good, baby" He stroked your head before gripping the back of your hair like he was resisting to push you further down.
"Fuck baby, you're way too good at this to be a virgin."
"You calling me a Liar, Mr. Munson?" You popped off his cock and started jerking him off with your hand again.
"No, no, baby, shit, I mean, ohhh, fuck you're very good for this being your first time."
"Thank you" You put the tip back in your mouth as you sucked on it, but your hands continued to work the shaft.
Eddie didn't last much longer; he told you to take your mouth off but continue with your hands, not wanting to ruin his chance of being with you again if you tasted cum for the first time and you were disgusted. So you listened, wanting to please him; you watched as the white liquid spurted from his shaft and ran down your hands. It was warm and all you could picture was what it would look like leaking out of your pussy.
"Let me get you a towel" You got up when his cock finally stopped spazming.
You walked back over with a warm wet dishtowel, but not before you took his softening cock in your mouth to wipe up the access.
"Jesus Christ," Eddie wasn't expecting that. It was like he had awoken something inside you.
"I wanted to know what you tasted like," you surged before you handed him the towel.
"You, little minx, are going to be the death of me."
Eddie and you had been going out for two months since he moved in, and it had been a week since you gave Eddie your first blow job. It's been on your mind for the majority of the week. So when he asked you out again on a fourth date, you were very excited to see how that one would end. What more would the two of you explore?
Eddie cooked for you; he had a nice romantic dinner in his kitchen. His place was finally fully unpacked, and he gave you a grand official tour of his house afterward.
"You going to show me your bedroom?" You teased.
"You would love that, wouldn't you?" He teased back.
You headed up to his room. You walk inside, and it's pretty spacious; he has a small window off to the side that looks into your house. You stroll around the beige-carpeted floors to see if your suspicions are correct. He does, in fact, have a direct view of your bedroom.
"Ever spy on me, Mr. Munson?"
"mmmmm once or twice." He chuckles as his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body.
"Really?" You got a bit nervous; what had he seen?
"Well, a man can't help his curiosity when he hears a sweet voice moaning his name in the middle of the night."
This makes you gasp. He had to be joking! But then again, your windows are close together, and you love leaving them open...
"Don't worry, sweetheart." He turned you to face him, but you buried yourself into his chest, too embarrassed to look at him. "It's flattering.”
"Eddie" you moaned into his chest."
"I'm serious, knowing you want an old guy like me?"
"You're not even that old," you mumbled.
"Please look at me, Sunshine." He tilted your head up so he could gaze into your eyes. You tried to fight it, but you ultimately gave in.
"I'm embarrassed," You pout.
"Don't be; you don't even need to be embarrassed about your fantasies with me. Understood?"
"Okay." You shy away meekly.
“You want to tell me your fantasies? What you were thinking about when you touched yourself all alone in that bed of yours?”
“I-i-want…“
“It’s okay. I know you’re nervous, sweetheart. You can tell me.”
You paused, took a deep breath and closed your eyes.
“I want to be taken care of,” you whispered.
“And”
“I want you to be the one to do it…”
"We can definitely arrange that," he said before taking your lips. His tongue parted your lips, making its way into your mouth. He was an excellent kisser. You were getting wet just by his kisses alone.
Eddie backs you up and leads you toward the king-size bed. Your knees give out when they hit the soft mattress, and you fall back, dragging Eddie down with you.
"You gonna let me take care of you, baby?"
"Please?"
"That's my girl." He smiled into the kiss before getting up so you could shimmy back onto the bed so you could rest on the pillows.
Eddie's mouth found yours again as his hands travelled up your body, feeling every inch of your skin. You felt like your body was on fire; the heat radiating between the two of you was evident.
"Can I take this off?" He played with the hem of your sundress.
"You can do whatever you want"
"That's a big promise, little one, gotta be careful with making promises like that." he cocks his head.
"I just want you." You go to take off your dress, but Eddie stops you so he can do it himself. You came prepared; you wore the nicest bra and panty set you owned. A pink lace and satin set. It made your boobs look out of this world the way the fabric cupped you just right. Accentuating every curve.
"All this f'me?"
You didn't answer. You just needed to kiss him again; your bodies melded together as he pressed you further into the mattress. His hands cupped your breasts, moulding and kneading them, and your sensitive nipples began to perk up at his rough touch.
"You're perfect," Eddie sighed as his mouth detached from yours and moved down to your neck. Your body tingled as his soft lips explored the exposed skin.
"Eddie," you moaned out in pleasure. Your hips started to grind up onto Eddie's calf, and he knew he had you right where he wanted.
His hands moved lower, cupping your lace covered heat. His fingers felt so good above the lace that separated the two of you; you couldn't wait to see what they felt like skin to skin.
"You mind if I?"
"Yes!" you said, a little too excited. But Eddie didn't mind. He thought it was so cute the way you were eager to let him explore your body.
"You know how often I've pictured you on this bed?" You shake your head, not biting your lip.
"Oh well, I would picture you like this... no, wait. There would be much less clothing." He wraps his arms around his body to take off his shirt, and he throws it across the room; next to go were his pants. You giggled at his antics. "Much better."
You could feel his cock press against your stomach as he pounced back down onto you. He continued where he had left off, his hand exploring your clothed cunt again, circling your clit above your panties, making you let out a sweet moan. He moved his hands further up until he made his way underneath your panties.
Your hips automatically moved as Eddie's hands explored your wet folds. His free hand pressed your hip, silently telling you not to move, that he will do this for you. You no longer had to be the only one to make yourself feel good. He was here to take care of you.
His thick finger slipped past your folds and up into your tight cunt.
"Oh!" You called out as his fingers broke past the barrier. They were much bigger than you're used to; your hands could never do the same as he was doing now.
"You're ok, baby," he cooed. He worked his hands inside of you, hitting a spot you'd never located before. That made your mind go numb and all fuzzy.
Eddie pulled out of you, and you whimpered in protest but quickly understood he was only taking off your panties for you. You lifted your legs, you helped him out, and he kissed down your leg until he reached your centre.
"May I?" He asked.
"Yes." You sigh.
Eddie waisted not a moment longer. His lips attached themselves to your lower ones. You’d never felt anything like it. The way his soft mouth moved around your clit, kissing and sucking on your swollen bud. You thought I couldn’t get any better than this. Until his tongue made its way onto your body and you cried out in pleasure. Too consumed by Eddie to be embarrassed by how loud you were being.
“Eddie! Oh god, yes, fuck right there!”
“You taste so sweet, even better than I imaged.” Eddie hummed into your cunt mimicking the vibrations your so use to with your vibrating toys. You body was quivering underneath him within minutes. He was way too good at this.
“Please, I’m coming, oh god I’m cuming!” You try to catch your breath with every world but it wa s no use. Eddie didn’t let up until your body was spent.
You watched Eddie sit up, your liquids covering his chin. He smiled as he spoke.
“We are only just getting started baby”
Another whimper left your throat as he pulled down his boxers to reveal his hard cock. It bobbed as it was released from its confines and you wanted nothing more than to feel it in your mouth again.
“I know what you’re thinking, baby. But no, not tonight. I need to feel you.” He went to the nightstand and opened the drawer. You watched as he pulled out the condom from its foil wrappings. Your legs clenched in anticipation.
"I'm going to take real good care of you, Sunshine." he rolled it into himself before crawling back over your body.
"Okay, Eddie. I trust you."
Eddie's heart fluttered as you spoke. He was so honoured that you chose him to be your first. He would make you see what you had missed this whole time.
"You ready?" He asked.
"Yes, I think so." You nod.
Eddie hovered over you as he took your lips into his once more. You could taste yourself in his mouth and he slowly worked the tip along your slit collecting your natural lube so he could slip himself easily inside.
"Oh my god!' Eddie was thick, so much thicker than you were used to with your silicone boyfriend you had hidden in the drawer. Thank god you were at least used to that because you didn't know how you would have handled this otherwise.
"You're doing so well for me, Sunshine." he praised as his cock dove deeper into you. Your tight cunt felt like paradise.
You told Eddie he could start moving once you were comfortable and adjusted to his size.
You saw starts as his cock plunged in and out of you; it felt so fucking good. You couldn't keep in your pleasure. Moan after moan was music to Eddie's ears. Why had you waited this long to feel something so good?
"So good, fuck, you're so fucking tight." His strokes never let up. He kept the same tempo as his hips snapped into you. Your mouths hardly disconnect unless you need to come up for air. His hands explored under your bra as he pulled a cup down to free your nipple. He moved from your mouth down to take your breast into his mouth, curling your peaked bud just like he did your clit minutes before.
Your body was lit up again; the heat between you both was one thousand degrees. Eddie, was your everything at this moment. You didn't, nor couldn't think of anything but the pleasure he was feeding you.
"More, more, more," You chant as Eddie's cock pounds into you, filling you more than you had ever felt before.
Eddie listened and moved his hands to your clit. Sparking an electrical bolt through your entire body. Your already sensitive clit was pulsing with desire as Eddie continued to pleasure you. With each stroke of his cock and hand, your body couldn't take it anymore, and you began to convulse under him.
"Shit fuck, you're squeezing me so tight," Eddie spoke before he realized that he was making you cum undone beneath him.
"Oh, yes! Eddie!"
"That's it, such a good girl, taking me so well. God your pussy is made for me." he spoke as he still used your body for his own pleasure. He didn't take much after your cunt latched down on him like a vice that he was coming right after you. A loud grunt left his lips as he felt a wave of please come over his body. His sensitive cock spurted its hot while cum into the condom that was still inside you.
"Wow," Was all you managed to say. Your brain was mush, but it was the best way possible.
"Yeah, wow," Eddie chuckled as he rolled off of you, out of breath but feeling blissful nonetheless.
"Is it always like that?" You mindlessly asked.
"With me, baby girl? Yeah." He chuckled.
"Wow," You repeated. Your brain is still not fully back down to earth.
"You wanna be my girl Sunshine?"
This snapped you back into reality.
"What? Really?" You turn your head to look at him.
"Yeah, baby girl," He cupped your face, waiting for your answer.
"Yes, Eddie, I'll be your girl"
Part 2
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#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson x you#Eddie Munson smut#older!eddie munson x reader#Eddie Munson x virgin!reader#older!eddie munson x virgin!reader#Eddie Munson fluff#mechanic!eddie munson x reader#Eddie Munson imagine#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female character#eddie munson fan fiction
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A Friendly Proposition
Based on this request: Hi mae!!! Would you be open to writing tasm!peter parker or Remus lupin with best friend reader who hasn’t cum before, and he is outraged when he hears this? And he’s like, why don’t I show you (wink wink) -- Thank you for requesting!! I chose Remus for this but I would love to do some Peter smut in the future if anyone has any ideas :)
cw: smut mdni, fingering, not necessarily inexperienced reader but kind of has that vibe, basically smut no plot
bestfriend!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words
“I dunno, I guess overall it was fine.”
“Fine?” Remus looks up from where he’s lying on his bed, one eyebrow lifted in that way you don’t think he knows he does. You’re sitting on the floor in front of his mirror, attempting to cover up a particularly bad hickey your date from last night had left you as a parting gift. His reflection has a wry twist to its mouth. “I should hope it was more than just fine.”
You shrug, tilting your head to dab at the makeup on your neck. “Not the best, not horrible. I’d call it thoroughly average.”
Your friend hisses sympathetically through his teeth. “Not the sort of rave review most guys strive for. If I left someone with a mark like that, I’d hope I made it worth their while.”
You can’t keep your lips from curving. “I didn’t say it wasn’t worthwhile.”
“Did he at least make you cum?”
You cough in surprise. “At least?” You turn around, giving him a disbelieving look.
Remus’ answering expression is equally incredulous.
“How common do you think that is?” you ask him.
The eyebrow lifts higher. “Well, now I’m not sure, but I’ve never had any problems.”
You scoff, turning back to the mirror. “That’s because you’re a guy.”
“No,” Remus says, amusement tingling in his tone. “I mean, yes, but I meant I’ve never had any problems making other people cum.”
“Seriously?” You freeze with your hand upheld awkwardly above your neck. You’re doing your best to make this conversation feel casual, but sometimes having an attractive guy for a best friend can get confusing, and the room is starting to feel a tad warm despite the open windows. “Like, what’s your success rate?”
“What’s yours?”
“I asked you first.”
Remus’ lips twitch, fondness beneath his exasperation. “For women specifically?”
“Sure.”
He nods, expression turning pensive. “I can’t be exactly sure. I mean, it’s not like I’m constantly fucking loads of women.” He says it so offhandedly, but just the language makes a tickle of warmth start up in your cheeks. “There were a couple who didn’t, when I was younger, still learning, but since then it’s been fairly high.”
You swallow. You wonder what the learning had entailed, what Remus had picked up that you and anyone you’ve hooked up with hasn’t. It’s typically not for a lack of trying, though some certainly invest more time into the ambition than others. You can’t say you’ve even tried that hard yourself, not in a while and not since you’ve reckoned with the idea that it may simply not happen for you. It feels like a pointless exercise.
You break from your reverie when you notice Remus watching you in the mirror.
“Your turn,” he prompts.
“You can’t make fun of me.”
“You know I wouldn’t.”
You absolutely do not know that, he loves to tease, but he’s right in that you don’t think he would about this. You catch yourself nibbling on your bottom lip, and stop.
You do your best to affect his unflappable blasé when you say, “Zero, so far.”
That blasé hardly holds up now. Remus sits straight up. “Never? Not once?”
You can’t bring yourself to look at him, so you focus on covering the spot on your neck. “Nope.”
“Not even by yourself?”
“You make it sound like it’s so easy.” There’s some bitterness in your tone as you tilt your head up, inspecting your work in the light. “I haven’t tried in a while, because I was never able to. I got sick of it.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
You try not to melt. Remus will call you that, from time to time, but given the context of your conversation you wish he wouldn’t. Suddenly his room feels a little bit smaller, the atmosphere more private than before.
You look at his reflection, expecting to find teasing in his expression, but it’s thoughtful. Contemplative.
“You said you wouldn’t make fun,” you remind him. “I feel like that should also include feelings of pity. Let’s not act like it’s some great tragedy to not have cum before.”
“No, I’m…it’s not that. You’re right, there are worse fates.” One corner of his lips curves slightly, and you mirror him, relieved. “I was just thinking that I could…well, I might be able to help.”
“What?” A little laugh trips off your tongue. Your face is really feeling warm now. “Do you have some kind of manual or something?”
“Would you want my help?”
“Is there a diagram you’re going to show me? Trust me, I’ve seen those.”
“Answer the question, love.”
You set your makeup down, expelling a breath. Meet his eyes in the mirror with a shrug. “Yeah. Sure, I’d be curious.”
Remus studies you. Analytical hazel eyes and a map of scars you would know blind. “Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, but I could show you, if you’d like.”
Your breath seems to stall in your lungs. “On…” you trail off, not wanting to misunderstand him.
“On you,” he confirms. “Would you want that?”
You’re nodding before you can think enough to speak. Your head feels slow and fuzzy, like you’re navigating a dream. “Yeah,” you manage. “If you’re alright with that.”
“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Remus spreads his legs open on the bed, patting the space between them. “C’mere, love.”
“What—like, now?”
“Do you have another engagement?” He gives you a little smile. It squishes the scar underneath his left eye adorably, but when you hesitate he sobers. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
You shake your head, and it’s like your body remembers how to move, propelling you up from your seated position. “No, sorry, I’m good with this. I think I’m just a bit nervous.”
“That’s alright,” he reassures you. “You don’t need to be, though. It’s only me.”
You see his eyes drop to your mouth, and you let your lip slip from between your teeth a second time. Remus is right. If there’s anyone you should be comfortable learning this with, it’s him.
When you go to crawl up on the bed, he stops you. “Probably want to lose the pants first,” he suggests.
Right. You set your fingers to the button, and it seems to fly open of its own regard. You feel Remus’ eyes on you as you slide them over your hips and step out.
“Underwear too, or…”
“No, we’ll keep those for now.” Remus holds a hand out for you, and you get up onto the bed, letting him help you settle in between his legs. It’s impossible not to be conscious of the feel of his pants against your bare skin, or how comfortably he wraps a hand around your thigh, pulling it open that much wider. “Do you usually start with everything off?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Isn’t that sort of the point?”
“Sometimes,” he hums. “Sometimes, though, it helps to work up to it. You need to get warmed up, you know?”
You murmur an affirmation, though you don’t actually know. There’s never been much warming up when you or anyone else has tried to do this before. But it doesn’t matter, because then Remus starts rubbing the outsides of your thighs with both hands, and any sound dies in your throat.
“You have to start slow,” he says in a low voice. Scarred, strong hands moving over your skin. “Everyone responds to different things, and it’s about feeling out what works for you.”
You can’t imagine how this wouldn’t work for anyone. Remus touch starts moving inward, until his long fingers are dragging over your inner thighs, fuelling a familiar warmth at their apex.
“Are you feeling more relaxed now?”
You wet your lips. “I think so.”
“Good. If you’re feeling up to it, you could try touching yourself other places, see what works.”
Tentatively, you slip one of your hands up your shirt. Your breasts feel more sensitive than usual, and when you squeeze one, combined with Remus’ hands on your thighs, it makes your breath catch.
“There you go, sweetheart. You’ve got it.”
Your body starts to slacken against him, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind. He only uses his grip on your thighs to drag you closer, propping you up. You can’t tell which one of you is warmer.
Without warning, his hand brushes over your mound. You gasp.
“Is this okay?” Remus asks, his voice closer to your ear than it had been. He gives you another stroke over your panties.
“Yes,” you breathe out.
“Alright. Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”
One hand continues moving over your thigh while the other drags the fabric of your panties aside, flattening over your cunt.
“Oh, poor girl,” he coos. “Is all this for me?”
Your silence must scream mortification, because he chuckles and bumps the side of your head with his affectionately.
“Sorry, I’m only messing with you. Is it always like this?”
You lie. “Yeah.”
Remus hums, dragging two fingers through your folds. You squirm in his lap. Your hand has completely forgotten your breast.
“I usually start here,” he says, one finger circling your clit. It slips and slides in the mess you’ve already made. “You do the same?”
You nod fervently. He adds another finger, moving over it gently, and has to tighten his grip on your leg to keep it open. Your breaths start coming faster as he repeats the motion. You can feel him getting hard behind you.
Just as your pleasure starts to take you under, Remus’ fingers fall away.
“Your turn,” he says. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.
When you hesitate, confused and a bit bereaved, he chuckles, taking your hand in his and pressing your fingers to your clit.
“Show me how you’re gonna do it, sweetheart.”
Tentatively, you try to copy his movements. Your own fingers feel clumsy and inadequate compared to his, but after all the work Remus has put in they’re still enough. You chase that tightening sensation, hips twitching into your own touch.
Remus doesn’t leave you on your own for long. His hand finds your cunt again, seeking, it seems, every possible way to drive you to madness. He collects the slick pooling by your entrance, sliding it up and down through your folds, and when his fingers breach your hole you make a soft, surprised sound that sends his lips down onto your shoulder.
Instantly, you’re aware of how much better this feels. Remus’ mouth is warm and soft, a contrast against the roughness of his stubble. He sucks at you gently, warming you up like he had your cunt, before letting his teeth scrape lightly over your skin. Your date from last night had been so eager to get your neck into his mouth, suctioning onto you like a parasite and rolling your skin between his teeth in a way that hurt more than it helped. Remus is all temperance. He bites you, and then licks it over to make sure you’re soothed.
The thought occurs to you that maybe you shouldn’t be comparing Remus to someone you actually dated.
He curls his fingers inside you, and every thought you’ve ever had falls away. All you are is a collection of sensations and wants.
“You’ve got it, darling, keep going. You’re doing so well.”
Your fingers and Remus’ working like one mind, until your thighs are shivering and he has to redouble his efforts to keep you still. Your head lolling onto his shoulder, the way his lips transfer to your neck as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His scruff scratching under your jaw, moving as he says your name.
The myriad of other things he says, sweetheart, baby, good girl, you’re doing so good, growing raspier as the pressure in your core worsens until you worry you’ll shatter if he doesn’t keep ahold of you.
“Let go,” he instructs, kissing the skin beneath your ear lovingly. “You’re alright, just let go.”
You choose to trust him, and your body—your being—snaps.
You make sounds you can’t hear, your own fingers stuttering and stopping while Remus works you through the new sensation, murmuring assurances into your skin. Runs his free hand over your trembling thigh.
Eventually, your mind quiets enough to hear that his breathing is nearly as labored as your own. He slips his fingers out of you. You try to turn around to face him, but your body betrays you, slumping against his front.
Remus chuckles, smoothing a hand up your side. “Good job, sweetheart. You did beautifully.” He smears a kiss over your cheek. “How was that?”
You sigh blissfully. Your brain feels pulverized. “Really good.”
Another soft laugh. “Yeah? Glad to hear it.”
“Thank you.” You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to look up at him.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, voice warm with amusement. “Honestly, I should probably be thanking you. I feel quite lucky.”
You hum bemusedly. Remus’ sex-slicked fingers run lazily over the inside of your thigh. Perhaps your mind is still addled from your orgasm, but this feels incredibly normal to you now.
“Really? Why?”
“I just,” he exhales, leaning his head against yours lightly. “I just can’t believe I was the first person to hear you make those sounds.”
“Oh.” You feel the tickle of embarrassment coming back to you. It draws your shoulders in. “Sorry. Was I very loud?”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart.” Remus turns his head, kissing your temple firmly. “You were perfect.”
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And so it makes sense that these are now the places where fascism grows; that’s what these places were designed for. The suburbs were invented as a reactionary tool against the women’s liberation and civil rights movements. The US government, in concert with banks, landowners, and home builders, created a way to try and stop all that, by separating people into single homes, removing public spaces, and ensuring that every neighborhood was segregated via redlining. The suburbs would keep white women at home, and would keep white men at work to afford that home. These were explicit goals of the designers: “No man who owns his house and lot can be a Communist,” said the creator of Levittown, the model suburb. “He has too much to do.” The reason Target has become the locus of today’s particular right-wing backlash is the same reason countless viral TikToks attempt to convince women that they’re at risk of being kidnapped every time they’re in a parking lot. It’s the reason why true crime is one of the most popular podcast genres in America, and why many refuse to travel without a gun by their side and shoot people if they set foot on their driveway.
[...]
It is of course true that these mass hysterias are part of an organized right-wing movement that is attacking human rights across the country—through legislation banning abortion, gender-affirming care, and books, and making it illegal for educators to teach American history accurately. But the shape this movement has taken is not coincidental; it is in fact the product of the unique shape of public life in America, or lack thereof. Suburbanites do not have town squares in which to protest. They do not have streets to march down. Target has become the closest thing many have to a public forum. We often hear that urban areas are more liberal and suburban ones more conservative, and we’re often told that this is because of race. That may be partly true, though cities are whiter than ever and suburbs more diverse than ever. Instead, it may be that suburbanism itself, as an ideology, breeds reactionary thinking and turns Americans into people constantly scared of a Big Bad Other. The suburban doctrine dictates that public space be limited, and conflict-free where it exists; that private space serve only as a place of commodity exchange; that surveillance, hyper-individualism, and constant vigilance are good and normal and keep people safe. It is an ideology that extends beyond the suburbs; it infects everything. Even cities, as Sarah Schulman writes in The Gentrification of the Mind, have become places where people expect convenience and calmness over culture and community. What is a life of living in a surveilled and amenity-filled high-rise and ordering all your food and objects from the Internet to your door if not a suburban life? To make matters worse, the people who have adopted this mindset do not see it as an ideology, but as the normal and right state of the world; they, as Schulman writes, “look in the mirror and think it’s a window.” So when anything, even a gay T-shirt, disrupts their view, they become scared.
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The Sexed Regime, or: You Probably Have the Wrong Critiques of "TME/TMA" Terminology
Let's begin by looking at an interesting dichotomy.
There's an oddly pervasive idea in queer spaces that a truly progressive trans or post-gender politic underscores the irrelevance of sex. In contrast to patriarchal society's utter fixation on "natal sex", queer existence must be transcendent, a space in which one's bodily configuration is understood to be entirely under one's purview, where presentation is simply something we inhabit and implies nothing about our sexualities or embodiments. It is an idea of emancipation rooted in agnosticism, an anti-patriarchal revolution spurred by the lack of belief in our cissexist society's deranged emphasis on knowing what's in our pants at all times.
It's a very appealing idea, I'll admit.
Here's the thing, though.
The naturalization of sex is the foundation of patriarchy, as well as the basis of the heterosexual regime it instantiates. Humanity is cleft in twain, with one sex marked for reproductive-sexual exploitation by the other. Like most other regimes, this one is also powered by belief--belief in the superiority of the 'male sex', the unfitness of the 'female sex', and most of all: absolute belief that sex is immutable, exhaustively binary, and non-overlapping.
What this also means, ultimately, is that those of us who dare to desert the sex we were conscripted into face different pressures and violence. It is obvious that many trans people are also subject to reproductive injustice, as cis women are, and consequently the transphobia they face is very acutely a regendering impulse, a patriarchal desire to drag them back to the confines of womanhood to fulfill their patriarchal purpose. There is, understandably, a certain amount of solidarity between cis women and trans people who have suffered these aspects of the heterosexual regime.
This is in fact the understanding that gives rise to even liberal-progressive uses of 'male socialization' directed at transfems. Trans women are understood to have been spared certain excesses of misogynistic violence and therefore expected to see and approach the world differently. It is simply a neutral observation, of course, no judgment behind it ... well, until it comes time to deny trans women epistemic authority over experiences of misogyny or womanhood, even their own. After all, can transfems really be said to have a full understanding of patriarchy? They weren't 'raised AFAB'!
Oftentimes, this becomes a double bind of proving that transfems did experience trauma, feminization, and abuse even pretransition, often as children, which is then usually dismissed as "trauma dumping" or "equating womanhood to being abused"--despite the minimization of our experiences being predicated on our "lesser" understanding of the trauma of being "misogyny-affected". So let's not retread that.
Instead, I'll point out that people assume a symmetry, a complementarian equivalence, almost, between the experiences of trans people. What I would like to stress is that there is no such thing as a coherent "AMAB" class or a shared "AMAB solidarity" based on shared experiences of oppression, because I have some shocking news that readers may wish to sit down for:
Trans women are oppressed by cis men.
Cis men are overwhelmingly the ones who rape us, beat us, kill us, and seek to abuse us. When we were children, we were bullied and violated for our perceived effeminacy, largely by the cis boys we were most proximate to. Most of us have been around cis men when they've voiced their most dehumanizing, misogynistic thoughts about women, and have been punished for not participating in these rituals of misogynistic rhetoric, too. The trauma of our upbringing involves being locked into spaces with those who sniffed out our differences, our non-conformance, and routinely punished us for being deviant. When we grow up, they are the ones who largely continue to prey on us.
The chief characteristic of transmisogyny is the presumed artificiality of trans womanhood, the idea that we are mimetics, and our womanhood is a farce, a costume whose only purpose is sexual. This dovetails with our disposability--our inability to be women who can bear children, further patrilineality, and secure what minuscule respectability is afforded to the domestically-confined women who continue the male line. As such, our hyperfetishization marks us for extreme violence, as sexual objects that can be freely used and discarded, guilt-free, because after all ... We asked for it.
Why would we "choose" womanhood if we did not want this?
Which, ultimately, brings me to my point: Sex is a social regime of difference imposed on us, but it is, unfortunately, a regime still in existence. My sex is the basis upon which my womanhood is denied and my disposability justified, because the transfeminized are degendered--we are not, as a rule, provided a path "back" to manhood. Our "effeminacy" ensures that we are 'failed' men, because gender is ultimately hierarchal. Losing status, being unmanned, is frankly trivial, and is what underlies the oppression of queer men--trans men included. Most of us are ultimately subject to some kind of degendering, largely due to how a patriarchal society regards those who defy the reproductive mandate, but transmisogyny is a specific manifestation of degendering that trans women experience.
"TME/TMA" may well be an imperfect categorization--all undertakings in boundary formation are imprecise, though not always violent, given that we need descriptive terms to communicate--but the real issue with it is that it's an overly-ponderous and ultimately clunky terminology for the frank reality that the binary sex imposed on us shapes the contours of the violence we experience. I have never experienced the specific kind of misogyny that sees me as nothing but a broodmare, because I'm a filthy troon, that dehumanized abject thing whose only purpose is absorbing (sexual) violence. Yet the acknowledgment that transfems experience forms of violence that others do not--or sometimes, even the acknowledgment that transfems face violent misogyny at all--is much less forthcoming.
Our struggles are indelibly connected, of course, stemming from the same source and promulgated by the same regime that seeks to define us as nothing more than male property. The shape of each is distinct, however, and because people frequently misunderstand the shape of mine, the idea that my struggles are even connected to theirs, that I experience misogynistic violence homoousian with that which they experience, is frequently dismissed, or considered outright offensive.
This is why I talk and write about transmisogyny, and why more people need to become more familiar with how the naturalization of sex and the regime of heterosexuality under patriarchy necessitates our common struggle.
And unfortunately, in order to properly express these ideas, we do need to talk about the regime of sex.
#transfeminism#gender is a regime#materialist feminism#lesbian feminism#sex is a social construct#social constructionism#feminism#transmisogyny#transphobia#degendering#regendering#anti transmasculinity
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Astro Observations: Tropical Edition (Sexology🔞)
Hello Guys! Thank you for the support of my couple last post! Since we did a Vedic one, I kind of want to do a Tropical Edition one especially since I am more versed about it, SO I HAVE MORE TO SHARE😋
These are based on my perspective of placements and signs, so take what resonates and leave what doesn’t🫶🏾 I’d love to hear y’all’s take as well!
Please do not read if under the age of 18.
Let’s start!
1. Both men and women who have water paired with a fire placement or air placement are much more emotionally detached about sex compared to one with an earth or several water placements. I knew a scorpio moon guy with an aquarius mars and oh BABY he was so detached about sex, it was more of a conqueror thing than a thing of having sex with people he acc liked (he also was an aries sun💀). Water and fire can definitely still get attached but when it is time to walk away if the relationship doesn’t serve them they WILL in a heartbeat.
2. Mars with jupiter men be having that BIG shit compared to mars with saturn. But with jupiter, they’re so fucking cocky about it like babe no one cares more than you do. I knew a guy who had this aspect and he would talk about his length all the TIME like it was a flex 😭. Mars with saturn i have heard can restrict ur length or make you overall much more conscious with sex and sometimes even insecure. You hear the mars/jupiter being the loud asf one about sex and the mars/saturn lowkey watching in insecurity or in like a 🙄pipe down look.
3. Pluto aspecting ur mars or venus ESP in a water sign omgggg y’all can get super attached just by looking at someone like😭 once y’all have sex with someone y’all NEVER want to let them go and become so possessive and jealous (it can happen with any element to be honest but with water yeahhhh y’all never leaving) i think it def applies to scorpio mars and venus people but idk i feel like they get super attached but then they are super unattached at the same time IDK how to explain it
4. If you want to degrade someone because your into that kink, you have CAPRICORNS who love that🫶🏾🫶🏾 LMAO every capricorn lowkey either loves degrading themes orrr they love to be praised because they lack that🥺
5. Gemini placements do like to be talked while doing it likeeeee BITCH TELL ME IM DOING GOOD😭 tmi but like they really do and tbh most of them are really good at oral sex (using hands bc that’s what gemini rules) soooooo
6. If you’re not into threesomes don’t mess with a sage or aquarius bc they down for ANYTHING tbh. Sag placements love trying new things and aquarius placements are into unconventional themes so try it out with them if you’re into that.
7. Aquarius placements or heavy uranus aspects suffer from porn the most imo because uranus rules technology. Like i have met a aquarius that could watch porn every part of the day (but i have met some that ARE SO against it and they don’t watch it so i guess it depends on placements )
8. Don’t downplay the 6th house for synastry. The 6th house rules health and what you may do on an everyday basis. With mars and venus in one or the other 6th house i lowkey can deadass see y’all having sex like EVERY DAY or that’s the main theme when y’all see each other lol.
That’s it! Thank you for reading! I will get into individual placements really soon rather than talking about the general scope of placements!
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Kiss, Romance, Beautiful
Kiss : What’s the sweetest thing someone has done for you?
Oh... students who tell me how important I was to them - how I made a difference in their lives.
It never gets any less moving.
Romance : Perfect date?
Hard to do in a vacuum... the other person should be considered, I would feel?
To me... this may be sappy, but what would make it perfect is the company. I'm happy with a museum, a meal, a hike, a movie... probably a number of other things - as long as I'm with the right person, it's all lovely.
Beautiful : Who is your ideal significant other?
Well, I mean, there's fantasy ideal and there's realistic ideal. 😅
Sticking to realistic ideal: lots of it was in the previous ask? Intellectually open and curious, quirky sense of humor (that I find funny - and she finds me funny), enjoys being in charge and leading... definitely a top 😂... more social than me (but not overly so)... some shared interests, some unique ones...
There's the "dating site checklist": not religious, not a big drinker, non-smoker, not a conservative.
These days, probably the big thing is, someone who can tolerate the periods where I get minimally communicative - or maybe even reach out and help me through them.
#but that may be fantasy ideal 😔#nothing else is particularly unique or remarkable?#there's a thought that I might not have the best idea what I'm looking for#because I don't have a lot of experience looking#I didn't mention anything physical because I don't think there are any 'must have's?#I mean I want to find them attractive#(and I very much want them to find *me* attractive)#(and show it - frequently)#but for me the yes/no on that seems to be mostly based on their face#and it's unpredictable which#(I mean... certainly I have *predilections*...)#(but they're not necessities)#(and the range of women on whom I've had crushes over my quarter-century of having a mentality to have crushes)#(is *highly* diverse)#(physically speaking)#(I will say this)#(boobs are a particular weakness)#(😂😂😂)#the lack of imagination on the dating question is also probably a 'not enough experience' issue#the first one was easy to answer though#thank you for the asks! 😊#(only took me 48 hours to answer 😅)#asks
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Reproductive violence is a form of control used to restrict women's autonomy. From birth control sabotage to religious prohibitions against family planning, women's bodies have long been battlegrounds for maintaining male dominance. This violence, often justified through religion or cultural norms, strips women of their right to make decisions about their own bodies, perpetuating a cycle of oppression that crosses national and cultural boundaries. The ease of accessing transgender medical care without thorough mental health evaluations raises questions about the responsibility of the medical system. For such life-altering decisions, a lack of psychological support can leave trans individuals vulnerable to future regret or emotional challenges. This oversight points to a broader problem in healthcare, where efficiency and profit sometimes trump patient well-being. The liberal feminist defense of sex work often fails to address the root causes of exploitation. While protecting workers is important, radical feminists argue that the industry itself needs to be dismantled. They advocate for social and economic systems that offer women alternatives to sex work, focusing on poverty reduction and access to education as key solutions to breaking the cycle of exploitation. Radical feminists argue that sex work should not be normalized or celebrated but dismantled. While protecting workers is essential, they believe that the real solution lies in addressing the systemic issues that force women into the industry. By targeting the demand for sex work and providing women with alternatives, feminists hope to create a society where women are not exploited for their bodies. The idea that a woman s traumatic experience somehow reflects on her character—"shes promiscuous" or "attention-seeking"—is as prevalent as it is harmful. These are not ignorant remarks made without understanding; many of these men know full well the weight of a woman's pain. Yet they still choose to belittle it. It s as though confronting another's vulnerability forces them to reflect on their own, which, instead of inspiring empathy, triggers defensiveness and disdain. Ill never understand why peanuts had to scrit in Candy Mountain. Nothing good ever comes from groudby with clobulous HGL. Ive had enough of sonic the hedgehog always trying to shreks in the erf realm.
I didnt come to peanut butter jar to farting this moist vegits, but here we are. The banana may be scary, but it still knows how to shit peanutbutter. Just because you can thwomp doesnt mean you should pounit. The way sex exprickilors in The evil lab makes me think its dirty. sonic the hedgehog! Why does everything have to be so greasy with you?
#gender critical feminist#terf safe#terfblr#op is a radfem#gender cult#radicalfeminist#gender abolition#tra stupidity#gendercrit
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