#which I do want to do. it's just hard and awkward when I don't feel it

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

This this this

I grew up homeschooled in a family where my parents basically had us fend for ourselves, while also discouraging us from doing any sort of activity or maintain friendships, so the vast majority of my life was spent feeling cut off and inadequate compared to my peers

Shockingly, I ended up having severe depression, (as did my siblings) and developed extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits as a young teenager, as well as other mental issues.

When I finally was able to start the process of getting help(which truly didn't start until the last few years, despite me being in therapy a decade) and started to do things outside of my usual habits, such as going to school and also getting a job(despite my parents trying to discourage me on my bad days), I was now an adult and felt like there was so much I missed out on, especially when looking at my friends experiences at the same ages.

It's so easy to dwell on those thoughts and revert back to old habits, and even harder to try and work through them(like pushing myself to get out of bed, or go to a function with friends). So many people I know who don't have depression just assume it's a little bit of laziness and sadness, and act like everything would be fixed if I just listened only to happy music and refused antidepressants because my generation is 'overmedicated'. And while we definitely are over medicated, without those medicines, so many people (myself included) wouldn't be here.

While my depression is better, and thankfully I've been pretty good with catching up on lost time academic wise, I still struggle with depression and the fallout from everything that has contributed to it. I hang out with friends but almost always end up feeling drained or depressed afterwards, even though I'm around people I care about and like, and I know they feel the same, there is always that voice in my head that one day they're going to change their minds and realize I'm not worth it or that maybe they don't actually like me.

Depression takes a huge toll on my body, I am always tired and overwhelmed, and when I am around friends and peers I feel like I'm an imposter just hoping no one catches on and questions the fact I try to mimic others behavior in hopes I blend in better (even if it's something I know to do, I suddenly feel awkward and panicked and act like I've never dealt with it before, thus watching others and trying to copy movements/actions, even if it's something I'm very knowledgeable about/good at)

I am drained because I feel I have to put on a front that everything is fine, and I feel bubbly and happy all the time, because otherwise people think I'm ungrateful/slighting them, or there out of pity(my sister is someone who thinks all of those reasons unless I'm all happy on the outside). Even though so many times, I was looking forward to doing something or spending time with someone, but for no reason I can think of, I get struck by depression when the time comes, but I still want to take part, because I worry I'll regret missing out, so I go and spend the time trying to act how people want me to, which is exhausting.

It's taken years to get used to these bad days, and I am working to let myself have a breather or just listening to what my body needs when it happens, (I've been better lately and I'm proud of that, but I still struggle occasionally). It's taken years to learn to stop comparing my life with what my younger cousin or old friend is doing/has done by my age, (or if they've done even more), slightly less to learn to ignore the timeframe society(and family) deems is 'normal', and since then, my quality of life has been better.

All this to say, depression has ruled my life and I deal with that everyday, and it is hard to ignore the sadness I feel for my young self and all she never got to do. But, I made it to 23 (something my 13yr old self never thought would happen), and even tho I didn't get to experience things on what is considered a 'normal' timeline for people my age, I have a whole lifetime of experiences to look forward to, and while my depression may be a part of those, it won't be for all of them.

You know what people don’t talk about often enough? Playing catch up in life after spending your teens or early 20s suicidally depressed. There’s so many more layers than just being able to say “I don’t want to die anymore.”

The difficulty in academia or a career after spending years thinking you wouldn’t be alive long enough for any of it to matter.

The exhaustion that comes from self awareness and self soothing, with the constant voice in your head saying “don’t go backwards.”

How lonely it is to watch the people your age starting families when you’re just barely learning what stable relationships are, and the sudden societal pressure of being “up against a clock” for these kinds of things.

The judgement from others if you change your image or interests this late in the game just because you finally figured out who you really are under the demons.

Be kind to those who are developing and blooming after years of not planning on being here long. We are living a life we absolutely didn’t think we’d have, and it’s hard enough without society reminding us there’s expectations of our age.

We didn’t get to be young; we were too busy fighting battles few know.

-

[illbegottenfaith]

merry christmas, please don't call

one year on, you look back on the fight that ended yours and theo's relationship (theo nott x reader)

a/n - and that's a wrap on the christmas fics! I had a few more ideas but I'm working on pacing myself/not burning out so maybe next year :)

tropes/warnings - angst, no happy ending, exes to...exes?

word count - 2.6k

Dec 23rd, 5.49 pm

You were frozen in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. You had arrived for a Christmas bash which doubled as a reunion, even though it had only been a year since your friends had graduated and gone their separate ways. A reunion where you'd once again see your ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott. You knew you'd inevitably have to see him again, but to coincidentally arrive within five minutes of each other? You fidgeted restlessly, willing the house elf to hurry.

You hadn't seen him in...a year, was it? He looked unexpectedly grave, dressed in navy blue and wrinkles that aged him far beyond his years. He even had a subdued grey scarf tucked under the collar of his coat. Unable to pretend you didn't see each other for any longer, the both of you made awkward eye contact.

"Hi."

Theo nodded. "How are you?"

"Good." You scrounged for something to say. "I've just gotten accepted into the auror recruitment programme."

As far as conversation supplements went, it wasn't the best. Still, it seemed to do the trick. Theo smiled suddenly, as if he couldn't help it, immediately looking years younger. Clearly, your time apart hadn't made him forget how badly you had wanted to be an auror, and how tirelessly you had been working towards it. "That's fantastic. Congratulations."

You felt yourself warming up to him. While his usual charms never worked on you, you were a sucker for those glimpses of sincere joy. "Thank you. What about you?"

"I'm at the Ministry of Magic now. My department's based in Scotland."

"Ah. Scotland. How nice. Looks like it agrees with you. The Scottish air, I mean," you hurried to clarify, tripping over your words. Seeing an ex again was hard for anyone, you tried to convince yourself. It was perfectly justified for you to get a little tongue-tied. "You look - you look good."

"Thank you." He almost looked...embarrassed. You had never seen Theo acting this bashful. It was curious, how much could change in just a year. He gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "So do you."

By then, the house elf had returned to show to your separate rooms. You turned to say goodbye, but Theo was already halfway up the stairs.

Dec 23rd, 6.17 pm, one year ago

Malfoy Manor was filled with opulent, excessively elaborate bedrooms like the one you and Theo were staying in. Theo was hidden somewhere in the recesses of the large room, getting ready for the Christmas dinner party. You were sitting up on the bed, trying to find the right words when Theo emerged from the dressing area, nearly ready. His eyes swept over you as he frowned.

"Why aren't you dressed?"

The dread coiling in your stomach stung like acid.

"I'm not coming for dinner tonight."

Theo stared at you for a beat, then two. Then he gave a bark of sardonic laughter, walking back into the dressing area.

"I don't know why I'm surprised."

You grimaced. Even though you had braced yourself for it, his callousness stung. "I don't particularly like your family, Theo," you snapped. "This isn't news."

Theo stepped out from behind the wall, tie abandoned half-tied around his neck. You shrank into yourself under the full brunt of his displeased stare, wishing he'd go back to getting dressed. You knew he'd never raise a hand against you. He didn't have to, not when he was more than capable of inflicting psychological harm. Still, you'd be lying if you denied finding him intimidating on occasion.

He dropped the mocking tone. It was almost a kindness. "But you agreed to come to this."

You smoothed down the covers of the bed, refusing to meet his eye. "Yeah, well, I thought I'd feel up to it. But I don't."

Theo fiddled with his cufflinks aggressively. "Do you have any idea how much of a mess you've made that I have to clean up? I'm going to have to sit there for hours, coming up with half-baked excuses for why my girlfriend is missing Christmas dinner."

You laughed incredulously. Was he being purposefully obtuse? Was that all you were to him, some ornament to make him look even more dazzling? "I'm sorry, Theodore," you said sarcastically, "I'm sorry I'm making things so difficult for you just because I don't want to sit through hours of sickening affectations from some of the worst people on the planet."

His demeanour flipped like a switch. He straightened, an obstinate undercurrent to the tension in his jaw.

"I don't ask or expect you to bend over backwards for me, so you can quit acting like I do."

"You don't? You're throwing a hissy fit over me skipping out on one dinner!"

"For Merlin's sake, Y/N, it's a fucking dinner party. How hard is it to have a meal and hold some polite conversation for a couple of hours?"

"When it's with your family? Pretty fucking hard."

"Then why did you even agree to this in the first place?"

"I didn't want another fight."

"We're fighting now, aren't we?"

You didn't know what to say to that. Theo disappeared inside once more. You felt traitorous tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"I just - I just feel like lately...all we do is fight." You hated how small your voice sounded. You flinched as the memory of your last fight insistently pressed on barely-healed wounds. I don't hate you, you had said. I don't - I could never. No. I could never hate you, Theo. Over and over, you had repeated it like a mantra. What had you done all that for? Why did you care so much?

"Tough luck, Y/N," Theo said, his voice bouncing off the marble walls. "This is what couples do. They fight."

You drew your knees to your chest, trying to regulate your breathing. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. "I'm sick of it, Theo. I really am. Aren't you sick of it?"

Theo reappeared, swearing under his breath, having resumed the struggle with his tie. He walked towards the full-length mirror at the corner of the room.

"Maybe we wouldn't be fighting so much if you didn't have to be so difficult all the time."

You were speechless. Theo took the opportunity to duck back into the dressing area, muttering something under his breath about dinner parties. You felt yourself retreating into your shell, smarting under the sting of his words. But it was more than that. You could feel yourself pulling away from him.

"I don't want to do this, Theo. I don't want to...make you an enemy."

"Then don't." Theo walked out of the dressing area for the final time, impatiently holding out the crimson dress you had picked out weeks ago. "Enough of this. Get dressed so we can go."

Enough of this. That was the problem, wasn't it? To Theo, this was all just one big temper tantrum he could discipline you out of.

You finally looked up to meet his eye, taking in his entire appearance. Merlin help you, but he looked ridiculously handsome in burgundy. His tie was just a smidge crooked like it always was every time you weren't around to fix it for him. Something twinged inside your chest at the sight of him fully dressed, ready to abandon you any minute now for the quiet, murmuring chatter that was beginning downstairs. Theodore Nott, virile and headstrong, was forever going to press on, with or without you.

You wished it didn't have to be this way.

"I wanted to make things easier for you, Teddy," you whispered, looking past the dress he was holding out. "I really did. You have to believe me. Please."

He wasn't going to browbeat you into getting his way. Not this time.

Theo flung the dress on the floor where it pooled at your ankles like a puddle of spilt blood. Like a condemnation. You closed your eyes and pressed a hand to your clammy forehead. You felt physically sick.

"I'm late for dinner."

present day

Dinner was a pleasant enough affair. As per your seats, Theo wasn't completely hidden from your peripheral vision, but that didn't matter once you started catching up with your friends. Afterward, everyone migrated to one of the living rooms, drinks in tow. It was a riot, seeing all the old crowd under one roof once again. Had they all always been this funny?

By some curious happenstance, Theo ended up next to you on one of the loveseats. As the night wore on, you found yourself gravitating towards him, leaning into him more and more with every bout of hysterical laughter. Eventually, the party started breaking up into smaller groups and dwindling in size as people started excusing themselves, one by one.

So here the two of you were, alone, drunk enough to pretend like the past year hadn't existed. It reminded you of the celebratory parties after Slytherin's victories during Quidditch season. You'd leave early, but in a couple of hours a completely wasted Theo would show up at your door (Merlin knows how, even absolutely smashed, Theo could reach the girls' dormitories), complaining about his head hurt.

You'd entertain his whining, fussing over every scrape he had sustained during or after the match, kissing it all better. You secretly loved those nights - it was the only time he ever let you baby him. Or, as Theo might have considered it then, let you have the upper hand. Even then, you had your differences, but they never stopped you from staying in sync with one another.

If only that were enough.

Now, you were nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder and your drink on his thigh. It was quiet, too quiet, even with a fire going in the fireplace. You glanced up at him. His eyes dropped to your lips. You knew where this was headed. Maybe you'd known, or hoped, ever since you'd received the invitation. In all honesty, you were too miserable to push him away.

"Theo," you murmured against the shell of his ear, "what are you doing?"

"Remember how good we had it?"

Your glass of wine drooped in your slackened grip. Most of the time, you were happy being single, but then again, most of the time you didn't have your ex-boyfriend drunkenly pressing hot, distracting, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

"What I remember is how we left things, and why."

"Remind me."

With a considerable effort, you righted your glass, squinting blearily around the dim living room. Honestly, all this estate and not a single coffee table to put a drink down? "We were, um, we were falling out of sync."

"Right," he said drily, plucking the glass out of your hand as if he had read your mind. "So out of sync that we couldn't help but arrive at the exact same time."

"Five minutes."

"Hmm?"

"It wasn't the exact same time. I arrived five min-"

You abruptly forgot what you were saying, deciding that it didn't matter when your mind was fogged with the delirious pleasure Theo was inflicting on you. Frustratingly, Theo pulled away after a minute, lightly flushed.

"My point is, don't you miss it?"

It took you a moment to regain your bearings. You blinked at him. In the flickering light of the fireplace, his eyes shone with such aching sincerity that you nearly forgot that all of this had been his fault.

You wondered if things would be different today if you had slipped into that dress and forced yourself to put on a brave face. After all, it was only a couple of hours. Maybe you wouldn't have ended things that night. Maybe you'd have worked through what might just have been a rough patch.

Or maybe you'd still be together, more miserable than ever.

The cracks were showing. You could have ignored them for only so long.

You pushed him away, suddenly disgusted by more than just the stench of whiskey on his breath.

"Shut up, Theo. You made me feel like an island. Our relationship was crumbling and you didn't give a damn about any of it." You retrieved your glass from where it was surprisingly steadily propped up between the cushions. "You didn't give a damn about me."

Sitting here, your third drink in your hand, the sting of embarrassing tears brought an unpleasant realisation. That had been the worst part, hadn't it? You couldn't even say that it was because he hated you, not when he didn't care enough to. Why didn't he care? Were you too boring? Uninteresting? Not worth his attention, positive or otherwise?

"Cara mia," he whispered urgently, as if English alone couldn't convey his distress. "I promise, I did care about you. You have to believe me. I just - " he faltered, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I didn't express it very well," he finished quietly.

"Like that means something. You were awful to me, especially towards the end."

He had the gall to look genuinely stricken. "Tesoro, please. Don't say that."

But now that you had begun, you couldn't stop. "I begged you to care, Theo. Do you know how humiliating that was? I begged you to care and you just couldn't find it in you." Your heart felt heavy. It was the first time you had let yourself grieve what you once had with Theo. With considerable difficulty, you pressed on. "Just like I couldn't find it in myself to put on that dress and act like everything was fine."

You took a sadistic sort of pleasure in his grimace. Good, he should feel uncomfortable. If anything, the time to feel uncomfortable had been last year, but that ship had sailed long ago. "So forget it. I've had a lifetime's worth of begging for scraps of your affection."

Something in Theo's face changed. It was as if he hadn't entertained the possibility of failing to sweep you off your feet, like he had done so many times before. When he spoke, it was with none of his usual embellishments or charms.

"I know you probably hate me now. As you have every right to. As you should." He paused. "Merlin knows I've hated myself every day since."

You wanted to laugh. Theodore Nott, with a head three sizes too big, hate himself? "Hate yourself? What for?"

Theo scratched his face, staring into nothing, in a distractedly hopeless sort of way. "I don't know. Too many things. For raising my voice at you. For pretending I didn't notice us..." He trailed off, as if he were too embarrassed to finish the sentence. He swirled the little amber liquid left in his crystal glass. "For making you feel like you couldn't rely on me."

"Is this your way of apologising?"

Theo laughed weakly, and when he looked up, his pale blue eyes dull with the sheen of a naively boyish desperation you hadn't seen in a while.

"Would it change things? An apology?"

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. It was all the confirmation he needed. Silence descended on the two of you.

"We were good. Once."

Perhaps. But once upon a time was too flimsy of a reason to fix things now. You took one last look at Theo, fighting the wild impulse to kiss him on the cheek in some half-hearted bid to piece together the shattered man sitting next to you. Even now, after all that had transpired between the two of you, you couldn't help but feel some sort of moral responsibility for his happening. It was curious, how nothing had seemed to change over the past year.

When you spoke, it was with a tone of finality that glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

"Merry Christmas, Theo," you whispered as you stood to leave.

Please don't call.

[meeinthesea]

THE COUNTDOWN TO FERVOUR — gojo satoru

outline — who knew a new year’s party would have you and satoru ending the year in a more than unforgettable manner?

contains — gojo x afab!reader, established relationship, fluff, smut, oral (blowjob), fingering, hints at top!satoru (?), a bit of plot (not that much honestly :/), let me know if i forget anything !

wc — 2.9k

a/n — my first time writing smut, i hope it's not that awkward... also sorry for any typos :>

“we don’t have to do this...” satoru says, his voice low, almost a plea. he leans back against the couch, restless gaze flickering between you and the carpet, “it's fine, really.”

no, it isn't. his pants feel way too tight, rough fabric stretching taut on his lean muscles, and not to mention the painful throbbing pulsing down his thighs makes it hard to breathe, to think but he still holds himself back — for you.

he doesn't want to lose control, doesn't want to pressure you into doing something that might be uncomfortable for you — something you might regret later on.

he swallows and puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back when your hands brush against his belt — your touch a bolt of electricity spreading through the nerves in his system.

satoru shakes his head, catching your hands in his, feeling you squeeze him gently, a low apology on the tip of your tongue, “it's okay, baby...”

he can't even breathe properly not when you're this close to him, your voice dripping with the same emotion that has plagued every cell of his brain, sweet floral perfume infiltrating his nostrils, travelling straight to his lower body, leaving it all tingly and almost numb, “not your fault...”

and it really isn't. no one knows how things accelerated to something like this — a situation both you and satoru don't know how to handle.

but the nagging voice in his mind tells him that it was indeed your fault.

the moment you stepped out of the door hand in hand with satoru was the moment the downfall of his self-control began.

a few hours ago, the two of you set off to a new year's party, you were oh so graciously invited to by one of your close friends. and as a respectful friend, you couldn't miss attenting, so you just had to drag satoru with you, knowing he would definitely not mind some time off from his duties.

the party was a blast. the moment you entered, everything and everyone was full of life. energy bubbling in every corner, loud music blaring from the speakers accompanies the continuous chatter of what seemed like a hundred people — all smushed together in a small beach side villa.

just your typical and boring year end get together that satoru was getting tired of fast.

though he certainly wasn't disappointed, dashing straight to the sweets and snacks counter the moment you both exchanged greetings with the host, “this tastes so so good,” he nearly moaned at the sweet and vanilla flavour bursting on his taste buds as he chewed onto the soft bread, gobbling down the entire piece of pastry in one go, “easy there toru, we still need to eat dinner.”

the massive buffet arranged for dinner was truly a sight out of this world. the numerous delicacies from around the globe decorating the long table along with the fresh and delicious aroma of the spices and the condiments heavy in the air had his mouth watering even before he made it to the first serving.

by the time dinner ended, satoru was struggling to walk with how full his belly was. gods, but he really didn’t want to say goodbye to the dishes delivered straight from the kitchens of heaven itself, “can we please ask them to pack some for us?” you only looked at him blankly before hitting him on his head, which immediately has him slapping your rear in front of everyone.

aside from catching up with your long-lost friends and co-workers, you and satoru were waiting for a year-end surprise, and here's the problem. sure, they must have served something (satoru reckons it was definitely alcohol) while both of you were lounging on the balcony outside, you must have drank maybe a couple of glasses or perhaps it was him snatching every cup from the server's tray.

though you reckon it was him, wrapping his arm around you, tracing his hand up and down your back, which lingered dangerously close to your lower body. or maybe it was the way you looked at him — hooded eyes staring at him with your plump cheeks reflecting off the red from the fairy lights, lips puckered slightly as if anticipating something — the one look he had never seen on you before. but he knows that it was your fingers curling in his collar, slotting your lips against his the moment the countdown hit zero. fireworks erupted in the background, and he swore some ignited in his chest, too.

yeah, it was definitely you blowing the fire that had begun to flicker in his body. naughty girl.

no one knows what happened after that. through hazy vision, he stirred you both out of the hordes of now drunk and wasted people, eager to get you away from any prying eyes, not wanting anyone to see you in such state. something so carnal, lecherous jumps in his heart, the heat between you surged, raw and unrelenting, leaving him trembling with the need to hold on — or to give in.

the apartment is silent except for the low humming of the heater and whirlwind of snow hitting the glass of the windows. the silence stretches between you and satoru, thick with tension neither of you knows how to break it. his hands are still on yours, holding them tight, though his grip falters when your eyes meet, “satoru... please?”

your words almost have him choking on air. his chest rises and falls with uneven breaths. he is trying to think — trying to be rational — but it doesn't help when you're thinking with something else rather than your brain. he trembles when he sees the way you're looking at him, like he's the only thing in this world.

“are you sure?” satoru croaks out, hands moving to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. he wants to hear it properly — wants to hear you say it that you want him too as much as he wants you right now.

“yes,” your reply is instantaneous, and the flickering flame flares into something akin to a conflagration, successfully destroying what little was left of his self-control.

it's all satoru needs as he slumps back against the leather. his hand cups your cheek, softly grazing his thumb against your flushed skin before dropping down to your parted lips, pushing the limb into your mouth, “suck.”

it's not a request but an order, one that you're more than willing to abide by. you take no time in dropping to your knees, settling in between his spread legs. satoru watches with droopy eyes as your tongue peeks out, slowly tracing his skin before taking his thumb deeper. you feel so wet and so warm as he pushes on your tongue that has him wondering how good it will feel when he has your mouth wrapped around something else.

satoru pulls back his thumb, grazing against your wet lips, “go on, show me how much you want me.” his hands move up to your head, pulling your hair together and tying them in a not so clean ponytail (you wonder where he got that hair tie from), “it's all yours, baby.”

you shuffle closer towards the edge, running your hands up and down his thighs, “is it?” looking up at him with a small teasing smirk, eyelashes fluttering at his lovesick expression.

oh god, you didn't know that the blood pumping in his heart is all because of you, that all of his eyes exist with the sole purpose of seeing you — observing you, that everything which made up gojo satoru belonged to you.

satoru wants you to know the effect you had on him, wants you to know how much you got him running, “feel that?” one of his hands holds your own over the throbbing mess in his pants. it twitches to life as you rub your palm against the hardness, “it's all you baby.” and it is because no one else could have satoru moaning out loud like a fucking porn star upon the simplest of touches.

“can i...?” you whisper soflty, meeting his lustful gaze.

the meaning behind your question is not lost to him as he nods his head, eager for you to take him. he feels dizzy just by watching you open his belt, clinking sounds ringing in his ears, shooting pleasure down his body. his heart melts a little as you press a soft kiss right on the bulge in his pants.

you motion for him to lift himself, and he does so finally revealing himself, as you effortlessly slide off his pants and his boxers in one go, leaving nothing to hide his ever-growing desire for you.

he's so beautiful, standing tall and proud, tip flushed with deep red. you give it an experimental lick along the slit collecting the remnants of ooze before kissing it softly. satoru gasps above you, your name falling in a soft plea.

your kisses move across his thighs, decorating the pale milky skin with splotches of red and purple, marking him as yours. he looks so divine sitting in front of you — like a god whom you're yearning for, whose praise you want to drown yourself in.

when you fully take him in, tip hitting the end of your throat, satoru swears he sees the pearly gates looming over him, and god does he feel so close to cumming, “e-easy baby fuck, or you're gonna have m-me haa coming in no time,” his hand comes up to rest on your head, giving it a soft squeeze.

he feels you giggle around him before resuming your previous ministrations to get him closer to the sweet, sweet release. your tongue flicks around the tip, which immediately results in him clenching his thighs, a low guttural sound escaping him.

god, he sounds so hot, looks so hot— dishevelled hair with sweat beading to the tips, his ironed shirt is all crumpled with a few missing buttons giving way to his soaked chest — so masculine. a perfect picture rivalling that of a statue of some greek deity.

“just like that baby fuck!” you hum upon his praise, vibrations shooting up his spine, mingling with the tight knot forming in his abdomen, “so perfect for me, aren't y-you sweetheart?”

yes, you are. his sweet baby, his angel who is always ready to pleasure him, to put him first — your lord. nothing exists in the world right now. it's only you and him — a god and his worshipper.

all his senses are overloaded with you. all he sees is you looking so perfect under him. all he hears is the loud, wet sounds as you work your mouth down his length to his balls, sucking each one of them while fondling with the other. golden nectar seeps through the slit, coating your mouth. he feels so heavy, twitching violently with the need to cum — to paint you white with his essence.

“oh god, b-baby i'm—” satoru is so close that he can almosy taste the sweet heavenly release, and god does your mouth do wonders on him. he's panting, one hand clawing at the couch while the other holds your head in place, right where you belong.

it's so hot... you are so hot.

when you lock eyes with him, all the while he's throbbing in your mouth, satoru tips over the edge, falling straight into the ocean of unadulterated bliss. he swears he almost goes blind, his body numb with how hard he's coming down your throat. shocks and shocks of pleasure travel through his body, heart drumming against his ribcage with each wave. he grips on your head, tight not wanting to let you go.

a loud, broken whimper of your name echoes around the space as he comes down from the thrill of the earth-shattering orgasm. you suck him through it, not wanting to waste any drop of the precious liquid.

you place a final kiss right at the base, separating with wet pop, leaving behind a string of saliva connecting your parted lips with his tip that has his stomach churning again.

“how was it?” you whisper, hands still kneeding at the flesh of his thighs. satoru barely has any energy left, heaving above you, trying to form some coherent sentences, “so good baby—so good.” a blissed out expression paints his face with little sighs leaving his mouth as he thumbs again at your now wet mouth, “c'mere...”

he pulls you up by your elbows, placing you on his lap now, “so good f'me...” he presses his mouth on yours, swallowing the sudden gasp upon your surprise. the slow calculated pecks quickly turn into open-mouthed kisses, his tongue curling with yours, moaning into you as he tastes himself on you.

satoru is touchy and so clingy, groping and squeezing your flesh so hard you're sure he must be leaving marks underneath your shirt. his hands hold you tight, close to his body as if you'd disappear right before his very eyes. he separates from you, moving to suck down your neck all the way to your ear, smudging red against your soft skin.

“lay down for me, yeah?” he whispers in your ear before taking your ear lobe between his teeth, biting it softly. you hum, and he swings you around, laying you carefully on the couch, “there we go... such a pretty, baby.”

satoru's mind is reeling, unable to believe his eyes. he finally has you underneath him, flushed, embarrassed because of him — all ready for him. his fingers tug at your pants, nicely trimmed nails catching onto the hidden skin, “let's get this off...”

he helps you shimmy off your pants, along with your embarrassingly drenched underwear which he sneakily pockets somewhere you don't know, “i barely touched you there, baby...” he slides a finger up your drenched folds, spreading them apart, “god so wet, tell me who got you this wet?”

and god, he is falling in love with the way you look right now — mouth gaping trying to respond, drooling trickling from the side of your mouth — his precious angel, so so pretty.

“answer me, baby...” he leans closer to your heat, taking a strong whiff of the arousal seeping through. “it's—ahh you, all you fuck.” you whisper as his hot breath fans against your wetness.

yeah he knows it's him — the only one who got you needy like a bitch in heat, “show me how to pleasure you, yeah?” he sits up spreading your thighs wider, situating between them, wrapping your legs around his waist. you nod, holding his hand and guiding it towards the ache between your legs, “right here?”

“need your mhm,” he knows you're struggling, trying to think past the lust ridden haze in your mind, but it's just so fun, seeing you get frustrated. “my what?” his fingers circle around the pulsing nub, feather soft touch testing your limits.

you are quickly surrendering to the faint sparks of pleasure stemming from where his finger rubs you, “y-your hah fingers...please,” satoru hums as he quickly shoves one inside your weeping hole.

both of you moan out as your walls clench around the digit, slowly sucking him in deeper, “m-more please ahh,” he follows, rubbing his ring finger around your opening before it's joining his middle finger.

satoru's mind is running in circles. god, you are barely coherent with just his fingers pumping inside of you. how are you gonna take him? maybe you'll yield, pretty pussy splitting open to accomodate him, always so eager to please him — welcome him. you're gonna make him cum untouched now.

“t-toru just like that baby—oh!” satoru hums encouragingly, keeping up the pace, rubbing against the rough spot deep in your walls, “you’re gonna cum f'me?” he whispers against your lips, before pulling you into a deep and messy kiss.

he knows you're close, tell tale sings of orgasm showing up in your features. your nails graze against his nape, electricity buzzing through his undercut, “please toru—” he shushes you, his free hand holding your head against his chest, “i got you baby.”

satoru watches as you come undone in front of him, spraying all over his abdomen with a loud moan ripping from your throat. he eases you through the orgasm, placing gentle kisses on your watery eyes, a stark contrast to the relentless pace of his fingers working your walls.

he slumps against you, pulling his now absolutely sopping fingers from your gaping hole, “mhm—”

he pushes his fingers in his mouth all the while maintaing eye contact with you, heavenly exilir hydrating his parched mouth, “tastes so good fuck,” he mutters removing them before bending down to capture your lips again, letting you taste yourself.

satoru pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours. his cerulean eyes maps the route of your face, watching you as you struggle to keep your eyes open. he nuzzles his nose against yours, “come now, don't go sleeping on me...”

his weight leans on his knees as he sits up above you, fingers fiddling with his now crumpled shirt, a devious grin adoring his face, “after all, i'm not done with you just yet.”

oh, he can't wait to have you writhing, screaming in pleasure — to have you fully.

what a banger way to kick off the new year, he thinks as he pushes in you, never to leave you ever again.

[piko-rose]

My Personal Headcanon On Why Amy's Love For Sonic Died Down Lately (and their dynamic)

When they were younger, Amy's love for Sonic was pretty extreme, and Sonic was, understandable, uncomfortable for the most part. He knows she means well, but that girl needs to calm down.

She can fight, but sometimes her hammer could only stun her enemies for a while. (It took her a long time to get rid of that robot that has been chasing her around Station Square.) She wasn't fully independent yet, even if she fought on her own a couple of times.

She often follows Sonic and his friends around. She is part of the team, but she was not a strong as she is now at the time yet.

She admires Sonic. A LOT. And Sonic knows that. Obviously, he could only run away from something like that, since he is NOT ready for that kind of thing, and whether Amy takes the hint or stop, she still loves him.

...BUT, I think things were slightly starting to change between her and Sonic after Lost World.

Remember this line?

You remember that? Okay, okay. Here's another totally unrelated question:

Before the events of Lost World, when was the last time Amy said "I love you" to Sonic out loud?

...YEP. 😈 (Unless I'm missing something, let me know lmao)

As more games and adventures come out, the characters get slightly older, and Amy is 12 to 13 now, and she is most certainly at that age where her body starts to change, but especially on how she views Sonic.

She knows she loves Sonic, but it was this moment during her change where she actually wanted to admit that she loves him.

I believe that Amy was all about sharing her affection to him not through confessions, but through obvious hints. Sonic totally got it, and there was no need to confess. Sonic knows she loves her.

...But she never said it. And she almost did, but she never did again for a while.

I think this was the moment in her life where, oh, God, she actually loves Sonic. SHE LOVES HIM, WHAT.

And she was looking back at all the times she had with Sonic that she can now see were unpleasant to Sonic (At least that's what she thinks) and that's probably why she isn't so expressive about her love to him than how she used to back then.

She wasn't sure what to do with this realization, and sets aside it for a while, and nearly stayed as her casual, peppy self... until the Eggman War happened.

During the 6 months of being with the Resistance, fighting Eggman's army all day and all night, all she can think of was Sonic.

She dreams that he still with not just her, but with her friends. She just wanted to see Sonic again, she just wants to be with her hero again.

But I'd like to think that she was also thinking about how she used to treat Sonic back when they were younger, how Sonic would almost always run away from her whenever she asks him out, or always look so uncomfortable whenever she gets so close to him.

Cringing at those memories big time, she wanted to change and hopefully when Sonic is okay and comes back, she can be better for him.

...Or will he still find her uncomfortable regardless? Would he even be happy to see her at all if he did survive?

But, hold on! She can't just give up her love for Sonic! He made her who she is today! A peppy, nature-loving, hammer-swinging, confident, brave... loud-mouth... annoying... Sonic obsessed... weak... pathetic... lonely little girl.

If she gives up on Sonic, it'll be like she gave up on the one hedgehog who saved her life. If she didn't she'll still be the same ol' Amy.

I also like to think she had parents a long while before she met Sonic, and was even expecting a little sister, but a robot invasion happened from where she was and attacked her parents and instead of trying to save them, after getting hurt, she ran away, hoping that they'll come back okay. But they never did.

She was all alone, and needed someone, a friend, a new family, someone who will hold her hand, anyone, to be there for her. But she was ignored by lots, and at that point, she's better off by herself, but still longed for company.

Eventually though, her tarot cards told her her future hero, and there might be hope after all. She encountered Sonic, held onto the belief of the cards tight, and the rest is history.

So, with that headcanon in mind, not only did Amy loose her parents that she didn't save because of her cowardliness (she was only so little at the time that happened) and also Sonic, who she thought will be her only hope, but now gone.

She doesn't even care if he did come back, he'd probably hate her now after everything she did to him, always talking about their "future wedding" or forcing him to go to Twinkle Park.

For the last few months of the war, it was nothing but Amy mentally beating herself up for either refusing to change or moving on, and they are both not fine choices.

She loves Sonic, but he does not love her, and she finally, finally realized it. And it's probably for the best if no body loved her at all.

But of course Sonic did survive and all of her worries wash away in an instant, she's just not expressive about her love for Sonic AT ALL now, since she's still worried about it but rather not mention it to Sonic because it doesn't matter.

If Sonic doesn't love her, then her feelings don't matter to him, and according to Amy herself, that is okay.

But also, I'd like to think that Sonic was thinking about his friends a lot up in the Death Egg for the past months, sometimes it's Tails (worried for his safety), sometimes it's Shadow (because he's wondering why he would join Eggman.) At some point, for a few days, Amy was in his mind the longest, and he felt bad about how he thought he was rude and pushy to her.

He wondered if she's not thinking about it too much, and if she is, will she give up on him? Yeah, he doesn't feel the same and still not looking for a relationship, but it's so strange but interesting how anyone could ever like someone like Sonic the Hedgehog. Amy was never afraid to show that, and she probably might be now.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. They were kids when she was like this, but he was so... arrogant at the time too. Not a lot happened at the time yet. He'd always have trouble expressing how much he value his friends, until he shattered the Paradox Prism. (I'd like to think Prime took place before Forces. It makes sense.)

She is such a sweet girl, and he probably made her believe that he didn't care for her. Just because he doesn't feel the same, that doesn't mean he hates her at all.

He wished he never ran away from Amy... Worrying for his little bro and wishing to be a good person for Amy was when Sonic cried in the Death Egg for the first and only time.

Frontiers, in my opinion, is kind of confirming their dynamic now. Sonic is a lot more sincere and kinder to Amy and she is not all hyperactive and lovey to Sonic. There is probably a real reason for this now.

They are both hiding their feelings from them, and they are both unaware of this. Amy, hiding her mental issues from Sonic, and Sonic, hiding his guilt away from Amy.

None of those things are important now. Sonic is with Amy and Amy is with Sonic. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

They don't care if they'll ever be something more when they get older. None of that matters anymore. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

Maybe someday they'll both talk about it, but for now, the present is important. They care about each other too much to think about it right now.

It's the kind of love that is unbreakable. It doesn't even have to be romantic. It's just love. Love is important for everyone, in any form. It's something Sonic and his friends need. And especially Sonic and Amy.

Amy Rose is the living embodiment of love, and without her, a lot would go downhill for Sonic and co. Heck, if it weren't for her, Shadow wouldn't have never remembered Maria's promise, which lead him to save the world with Sonic, before he temporarily disappeared from their lives for a while.

She is always there to lend a helping hand for anybody, even bad guys like Metal Sonic, and despite what she had been through, both in Forces and headcanon wise, she still fights back, even without her hammer.

She will pick you back up on your feet, reminding you that you are important and that you are loved, and that you should never give up. It's pretty much the words of encouragement she herself needed also...

She is still the happy, hyper, butt-kicking hedgehog we all know and love, but she still need someone to pick her back up on her feet after so long. Thankfully, she has her friends and her blue hero. The hero who made her who she is today.

I think Amy has no idea how important she thought she is, but Sonic does. Sonic knows fully well how important she is to a lot of people. It's about time he returns the favor to her. It's his turn to remind her how much a lot of people love her.

How much he loves her.

And I feel like The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog was the moment where their dynamic really shined, but also the starting point of their relationship not only healing, but also the next chapter of what's to come for them.

Everyone, friends old and new, gathered around for a special birthday. A birthday for the confident, unshakable, and radiant Amy Rose.

It was such a special moment in Amy's life. After years of chasing and following the people she look up to, she is part of the team, but most importantly, she is part of the family.

She is fully realized as someone more than just a fangirl, but someone strong, courageous, creative, kind and a big inspiration for others.

I feel like this moment here...

-is where Amy is eternally grateful to call her friends her family. A family she thought she'll never have again. She's not alone anymore, and as long as they're by her side, she'll never will be again.

Her chasing days are over. She's finally caught up to them. She's finally home.

And it's all thanks to Sonic.

If it weren't for him, she'd probably be alone forever. Her past moments with Sonic might be embarrassing to look back on for a while, but they are good memories regardless, because they involve him.

Sonic saved her life in more ways than one, and despite everything, he's grateful to have her too.

He cares about her. He really does... And in her eyes, that all she needed to know. As long as Sonic loves her in his own way, she'll be happy.

Amy hasn't given up on Sonic. As long as Amy always supports him, he'll be happy.

Maybe sometime in the future, they can talk about their problems, but that's a story for another time. At this point, they need to. Right now, they are happy. They are okay.

They are here for each other. They are finally better for each other now.

"You guys won't ever leave me, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[dufferpuffer]

BNHA isn't exactly a shining example of great disability rep... but it has its moments - and it has things that are truly WONDERFUL.

It's a children's 'hero' story that's constantly juggling the concepts of "Don't work so hard that you hurt yourself! Eat your vegetables." and "GO PLUS ULTRA! SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA HURT TO WIN!" Which are both... difficult messages when it comes to disability. Not bad. Just difficult. It's not so clear cut for us.

Often staying healthy and keeping safe DOES hurt us. It hurts me. My day-to-day life is made worse by doing all the things I need to do to continue my alive streak: eat, drink, walk, take meds... Is keeping healthy 'PLUS ULTRA' when it's agonizing and miserable - or is letting myself live for a moment, ignoring everything for the sake of adventure and comfort, 'PLUS ULTRA' for being reckless...?

While it does touch on it, BNHA isn't out here trying to answer such questions - and I don't blame it for that. I wouldn't want it to. All Might gives a more elegant answer than any awkward moral:

"I've decided to keep on living."

All Might was a man whose body was his entire sense of self. His strength, his abilities, his smile - not only his self worth but his very identity was ultimately reliant on his health. He lived selflessly, as 'any good hero should'. His life belonged to everyone else; to the concept of work he could do for society.

So what can he feel other than anguish when he becomes disabled? His health eroded, his body ruined, his smile hollowed... He tried to live PLUS ULTRA, pretending he was fine for seven years even though it was literally killing him - because how else can he live??

He lost friends because he refused to be 'a useless shell of who he once was, rotting away in misery. A disappointment.' His friends wanted him alive... but he didn't feel like living, if it meant being 'selfish' and not giving every ounce of himself to work.

His physical health got worse. His mental health got worse. He couldn't work for as many hours as a hero so he started teaching, to squeeze every bit of use out of him... waiting for a welcome death.

"passively suicidal, who knew that his own death was coming soon yet did nothing to change its outcome" He wasn't living. He was lifting others up till his arms gave out.

But now, after so many tragedies and triumphs... hurting himself with recklessness, feeling the weight and pain of managing his health... ...He has decided to keep living.

Living. For himself, for joy, for love - those things he was loathe to want for being selfish and useless... he can just be now. He has had to change his life so many times to suit his health, watch doors close around him, every time with self-judgement he would never apply to someone else - all for the goal of being useful.

Now hes finally decided to make himself a priority. He's learned how to enjoy living. To see himself in his drastically different, less-able, sick body... and to love it. "I've decided to keep on living."

It genuinely does mean so much to me that All Might lived, and he wanted to live. Like being able to see a character so passively suicidal, who knew that his own death was coming soon yet did nothing to change its outcome, decide he wanted to keep on living? To decide that he would continue to live? And actually be able to live? Also subverting the trope of the old mentor dying after passing on all he could to his student in the progress, and ending up old and retired and happy. It's just so beautiful to see

[kikuism]

yesterday i watched 14 episodes of frieren in one sitting. i was too delirious to write out any coherent thoughts but now i'll try to. i love this show so, so much. i had a feeling i would, but it surpassed my every expectation. i've missed watching something that touches me so deeply.

the themes of regret and the past and the future are interwoven into a beautiful tapestry of love and sorrow. it takes her friends dying and being confronted with the passage of time and mortality for cold, stoic frieren learn to value and cherish the present and take chances with friendship and forming connections, because even though one day it will end, as she has experienced, it will still have been worth it for the memories she creates. she didn't know what she had until it was too late, and the regret quietly gnaws at her—what if she had gotten to know her companions better? what if she could do it all again differently? the tragedy is that she was too late—she can never get to know himmel like that, that time is over, and all she has is the endless present stretching out before her. a part of me always wishes himmel could come back so she could do it right this time, get to learn about him, get to know everything about him, cherish everything about him. i love when the end is the catalyst for the begging, and it's so heartfelt and bittersweet in this show.

so all frieren has is the present, and she is determined to do it right this time. she takes on an apprentice when before she said it was a waste of time since they would eventually die—and she teaches her, and praises her, and makes every effort with her that she never afforded her friends in the past. in fern we see a different sort of frieren, quiet, exceptionally powerful, but so warm and compassionate in the way that freiren herself is now learning how to be. it's the way she's given a second chance at love and friendship, and this time she doesn’t squander it. for so long she believed it was pointless to leave a mark, that she could pass through time unseen, but she actively makes an effort—when she buys a hair clip for fern, apologizing that she didn't know what to get because she didn't know her all that well. frieren shows us that it's easy to live your life alone and seemingly at ease, and that it's connecting with others that's the hardest, because people won't know how you're feeling unless you tell them—it’s hard and it's awkward but she pushes through, because creating memories is well worth any hardship it takes. memories and magic might as well be the strongest tools an elf can have, to sustain them through their long lives. and it's the way the past still lives on in her present, too—the way stark trembles just like eisen used to, the corrupt habits of heitar that also exist in sein, the way the original party of heroes resurfaces in the form of fern, stark, sein, and freiren. the way she wears her master’s earrings and passes on the magic she learned from her to fern. the way himmel never said no to having statues constructed of himself and the others, not only so that they would be remembered, that they existed, but also so that frieren wouldn't be alone in the future. he understood the long stretch of her immortality better than she ever did, how all of those endless years can turn being alone into a terrible loneliness. as long as humanity goes on, the original party of heroes will never be forgotten, and in this way, too, frieren will never be lonely. the way humanity remembers and celebrates is foreign to frieren, but she learns to do it in her own quiet way, planting a field of himmel’s favorite flowers around one of many statues. memory is a powerful tool.

nothing could faze someone who never dies, but then frieren learns the beauty of things like the sunrise on the dawn of the new year, because she had fern with her, who made sure she got up in time to appreciate its beauty. i think this is one of the cornerstones of the series: alone, she wouldn't be able to appreciate the beauty of the world around her, the world that she has traversed for more than a thousand years. even the ring that himmel gave her, which for so long she thought of as just a band of metal—she loses it, and fern, knowing more than frieren about the significance of the ring, immediately helps her search for it, even delaying their departure until they found it—she sees it in a new light when she finds it: it isn't just a mere accessory, but a tangible form of her past, of himmel, what they meant to each other. as her understanding of humanity and their customs and rituals deepens, so too does her understanding of her own past and the actions of her friends.

time is constantly mentioned in frieren; the montages of staying at villages, recuperating, stocking up, before setting off once more—all take about 6 months or so. this is nothing but a sliver of a drop in frieren’s endless time, but for her human companions, it is a significant stretch of time. fern tells frieren how she has been living with her half her life already, and frieren smiles and tells her it's going to be more now. though she still has trouble understanding human years—(“what's a mere 30 years?”)—she is learning to make the most of this time, no matter how fleeting it feels to her. the journey to the demon king’s castle is a ten year journey, which again is nothing for frieren but a significant chunk of time for her companions. i always found myself randomly tearing up during episodes because of this realization—she is forever, but they aren't. one day they too will pass from this world. it's just a mere 10 years for her, but for her companions, it’s the main adventure of their lifetime, and she doesn't want to repeat the regrets of the past, so she cherishes every moment she has with them as her understanding of humanity deepens.

it’s a beautiful story about the profound loneliness of immortality, the beauty of fleeting moments that pass by like shooting stars, the healing power of memory against the steady march of time, the endless beauty of the world that is there if you open your eyes to it. her journey with himmel and the others was a mere 10 year journey, but it had such a profound impact on her that resonates deeply with her now: there is no time like the present, cherish the time that you have with the people around you. for someone who was merely just existing, who is now learning to live with new companions at her side, watching her understanding of her past, present, and future deepen as she forges connections with those around her is profoundly and deeply moving. i've never really experienced a story like this before, and the absolutely stunning animation, music, and everything else make this an experience unlike any other.

[buttercup-art]

So I was looking through some 'Ugly Betty' clips last night, and couldn't help but imagine these as Hugo and Noa:

also a bonus (this one is from the show 'Desperate Housewives', but it really reminded me of Noa! I can totally see her saying and doing stuff like this lol):

[ehlnofay]

wip wsunday (night)

tagged by @wispstalk (thank you kindly!) tagging back @ervona and @everybodyknows-everybodydies if you so please.

I put my long-ish tes piece on the backburner to take a break and write shorter things featuring my best friends elder scrolls characters from my mind and then I put THAT on the backburner because my very sweet grandmother paid for me to buy bg3 and. alas. look I can't play a game of this nature without fleshing out my player character far more than necessary and then I get curious. so here's a very shoddily scribbled bit from my very first playing-around piece (a rambling description of my character's extremely abandoned house)

[sematarygirls]

        BOYFRIEND!RAFE x ANXIOUS!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ protected p in v, oral (f! receiving), established relationship, loss of virginity, reader and rafe being dorks, slow sex, these bitches do not shut up, reader is very insecure about her body and of course, has anxiety

NOTES .ᐟ this is representation for all my anxious and insecure girlies who giggle and blurt out random stuff when they're nervous (aka me)

You and Rafe were both on his bed making out, him laying underneath you as you straddled his waist—his idea, of course, citing that it would be more comfortable for both of you that way. "You better just have something in your pocket," you jokingly mumbled against his lips, feeling something distinctly hard and suspiciously close to his dick pressing against you.

You had a tendency to make a lot of dumb jokes and laugh when you were nervous, blurting out whatever came to mind before you could decide against it, which was ironic since overthinking was a second nature to you. You were shy and got nervous a lot, especially around Rafe. He was your first boyfriend and the hottest guy you'd ever laid your eyes on, neither of which helping your nerves.

Rafe's hands slipped under your shirt to touch your bare skin, holding you firmly on his lap. "Wouldn't you like to know," his smirk was teasing as he pulled back from the kiss to peer up at you.

"Uh, yeah, that's kind of the whole point of asking," you also pulled back, sitting up as you smiled down at him. You liked it when Rafe went along with your stupid jokes, bantering with you to put you at ease. He never made you feel weird or awkward for using humor to cope with your anxiety.

"Well, if you must know, I'm packing heat," Rafe quipped with a mischievous grin, his grip on your hips tightening.

You gasped exageratedly, feigning shock. "You have a gun?" You knew very well what he meant, but when did that ever stop you from saying something stupid?

He snorted, his blue eyes shining with amusement. "Yeah, I have a gun in my pants because that makes so much sense," he replied sarcastically, finding your nervous humor endearing.

"Okay, Mr. Sassypants," you rolled your eyes playfully, your palms resting on his chest as a smile pulled at your lips.

"Mr. Sassypants?" Rafe repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You know, that's not a very nice thing to call your loving, patient, and amazingly sexy boyfriend."

"Well, I can't help that my loving, patient, and amazingly sexy boyfriend is such a diva," you grinned, feeling his chest rise and fall, his heart beating steadily under your fingertips.

"Diva?" He gasped in mock offense, his hands sliding up your sides. "I'll show you a diva." In one swift motion, he flipped your positions, pinning you beneath him.

You laughed, looking up at him with a smile despite the anxiety gnawing at you. He had a way of putting your mind at ease with just one look, and the soothing circles he was rubbing on your skin were definitely helping. He stared back at you, his gaze softening. He loved your smile and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed. Truthfully, he loved everything about you, even your innate ability to make everything a tad bit awkward.

His eyes searched yours intently, searching for any signs that you wanted him to stop. Noticing his serious turn of demeanor and his intense gaze, you felt your cheeks heat up. "Oh, cmon, don't get all serious on me now," you rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, I take my role as your boyfriend very seriously," he grinned, leaning down to kiss your neck. "And, it wouldn't be very boyfriendly of me to let you go on without knowing the wonders of sex."

"Oh, right, of course, it would be for my benefit," you giggled, your heart racing at the idea of being intimate with him. You weren't exactly against the idea, but you were still a virgin, and the idea of being with someone like that was undoubtedly nerve-racking.

You could feel Rafe smile against your skin, his hands sliding farther up your sides. "Uh huh, always thinking of what's best for my girl."

"Wow, who knew you were so selfless?" You giggled, biting your lip as he nipped as your skin. Your fingers slotted into his hair as he continued to kiss and suck at your neck, his hot breath fanning against your heated skin.

"I'm a saint, what can I say?" He mumbled, his tone teasing. He was being careful, trying to reassure you without actually saying anything because he knew you'd prefer to keep things as lighthearted as possible to make you forget about how serious the moment actually was. He could tell you were nervous, and he was determined to make you as comfortable as possible.

"Uh huh, a saint," you smiled as he slowly, tentatively pushed your shirt up your body. He was giving you time to tell him to stop, maybe even slap him if you wanted to, but you didn't. As much as you felt like you were going to die on the spot at the idea of him seeing you naked, you trusted him, and you wanted this.

"I am but a humble servant of my sexy girlfriend," he pulled back from your neck to search your eyes again, pausing for a moment before your shirt revealed your bra. You gave him a small nod, and he smiled, tugging the shirt over your head as you leaned up a little and lifted your arms to help him. He threw the shirt aside, eyes roaming your skin, as if memorizing every detail. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed out.

"Shut up," you said bashfully, your heart beating faster under his intense gaze. There was a voice in the back of your head telling you that you weren't pretty enough for him, that he would hate how you looked, and that was why you preferred to fill the silence with easy jokes and stupid quips. It made it easier to silence that nagging part of you that thought you weren't good enough for him.

"No, I mean it," he insisted, his fingers slowly tracing the lace edging of your bra. "You're like, way too pretty to be real. I mean, look at you." There was a sincerity to his words that he couldn't fake, an edge of awe and pure unbridled devotion that made your head spin.

The way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way he touched you like he worshipped every inch of you—it was all overwhelming in the best possible way. It had you scrambling in your mind to say something, anything, even if that something was a dumb dick joke.

"I bet you're thinking about saying something stupid, aren't you?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he leaned down to pepper kisses over your collarbones and down the swell of your cleavage.

"I never say anything stupid," you breathed out, as he kissed the skin that wasn't hidden behind your bra. It made your heart flutter that he knew you so well, but it also made you realize how awfully predictable you were.

"Uh huh and I'm the Queen of England," he retorted sarcastically, reaching up to slide one of your bra straps down your shoulder, kissing the bare sliver of skin that was revealed.

"Oh my God, you are?" You gasped, his remark loading you with the perfect ammunition to say something stupid. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness."

"Mmm, flattery will get you everywhere," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to kiss and touch you, slipping your other strap off. He slowly unhooked your bra, his eyes meeting yours as he paused, asking for silent permission. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously before nodding.

He pulled your bra off almost instantly, his gaze sweeping over your bare chest. You felt so vulnerable beneath his gaze, resisting the urge to cover yourself. "Okay, your turn, pretty boy," you swiftly said, trying to ease your nerves and figuring you might be a little more comfortable if you weren't the only half-naked one.

"Yes, ma'am," He smirked, leaning back to pull his own shirt off, revealing his muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare, eyes roaming over his abs and the way his muscles flexed as he tossed his shirt aside. He settled back over you, his hands sliding up your sides. "Better?"

"You are annoyingly hot," you huffed, finding it completely unfair that someone as perfect as him could even exist, let alone be on top of you right now.

"Aw, you're just saying that because you want in my pants," he teased, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "But I can't blame you, I am pretty irresistible." He leaned down, swallowing the small gasp you let out at his touch as he captured your mouth in a deep, heated kiss.

"That's slander," you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and curling your fingers into his hair as you pulled him closer.

"Mmm, then sue me," he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, slowly making his way to your chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. He was ridiculously skilled with his mouth, knowing exactly how and where to kiss you to drive you crazy. "Yknow what, maybe I will," you retorted breathlessly, your chest rising and falling a little faster.

"I think we can come to some sort of settlement out of court," He paused, his hot breath washing over your skin before he slowly, deliberately wrapped his lips around one of your peaks, swirling his tongue around it. "What do you think?"

Your lips parted at the feeling, intaking a sharp breath of air. "Uh, yeah, yknow that could work maybe," you grinned, your fingers gently tugging at his hair as he ravished your tits with attention.

"Mmm, I thought it might," he hummed with a cocky grin, switching to give equal attention to your other breast, your back arching ever so slightly, urging him closer. He smirked against your skin, making his way lower and leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. His hands slid down your sides to your hips, fingers curling around the waistband of your pants.

"Hey, wait, I don't want to be naked first," you protested, only half joking. You would rather die than be fully naked in front of him while he sits there with his clothes on.

"Oh, trust me, I have no intention of leaving my pants on any longer than necessary," He assured you with a mischievous grin, slowly unbuttoning your jeans, his knuckles brushing against your skin.

"Yeah, 'cause you're a freak," you grinned, moving on to the making fun of your boyfriend portion of the program in an attempt to soothe the pit of nausea in your stomach. You were kind of scared, not that you wanted to be lame and admit that.

"Hey, I resent that," He protested, but his tone conveyed the opposite message as he tugged your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth, expert motion, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm just enthusiastic, that's all."

"Enthusiastically a whore," you snorted, letting your head fall back, staring at the ceiling. You'd really rather not see yourself naked right now, not with the amount of anxiety already coursing through your veins. You did not need a reminder of what Rafe was seeing.

"Whore?" He teased, his fingers dancing along your inner thighs. "I think you mean an amazing boyfriend who loves you and wants to make you feel good."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Uh, no, I'm pretty sure I mean whore," you grinned, reluctantly looking down at him despite yourself.

"Well, this whore is about to rock your world," He smirked, slowly trailing kisses up your inner thigh, gripping your hips. "Just relax and let me do all the work." His voice was low and seductive, his intentions clear.

"You're such an idiot," you laughed at his cheesy choice of words, a little nervous that the witty banter would have to be put on hold. He can't exactly respond to your sarcastic remarks with his mouth occupied.

He hummed, his breath hot against your core. Your breathing picked up, and you were unsure whether it was anticipation or if you were on the verge of a panic attack.

He slowly dragged his tongue along your slit, groaning at your taste on his tongue and the subsequent gasp that fell from your lips, making his painfully hard cock twitch in his jeans. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them further apart and opening you up to him. He had dreamed of this moment, imagined this exact scenario about a half a dozen times as he got himself off, and now that it was actually happening, he was going to relish every moment.

He began to eat you out like a man starved, his tongue delving deep inside your tight heat, familiarizing himself with every inch of you. His nose nudged at your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that pulled a low whine from your throat. Your fingers threaded into his hair, moaning at the unfamiliar pleasure.

His fingers replaced his tongue, his mouth moving up to the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking it into his mouth, determined to send you over the edge. He pushed his fingers deep inside and curled them, finding that spot that made your back arch and your hips buck against his mouth.

"Rafe," his name left your lips a breathy whimper as your head fell back against his pillows. Rafe was no stranger to having women under him, writhing and moaning his name, but something about it being you made him crazy. It took all his self-control not to blow his load in his pants right there and then.

He redoubled his efforts, eager to make you cum, rubbing that sweet spot inside you with ruthless precision and sucking on your clit, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub. Another moan fell from your lips, your grip on his hair bordering on painful as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your legs practically shaking at the intense pleasure.

He groaned as he felt you spasm around his fingers, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. He slowly pulled away, grinning as he took in your dazed expression. He carefully slipped his fingers from your quivering hole, bringing them to his mouth. He couldn't help the moan that rumbled low in his throat as he tasted you on his tongue. God, you were perfect.

His eyes flicked up to yours as his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean. "Good, huh?" He asked, his tone smug. He knew it had been good, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"I'm gonna slap that stupid look off your face," you playfully rolled your eyes, your skin practically burning up with embarrassment.

"I think that would take our case from a civil lawsuit to a criminal assault charge," he grinned, calling back to your previous joke about taking him to court. He positioned himself over you again to press his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"It's my first offense and a misdemeanor," you mumbled into the kiss, cupping his face. "Worst I'll get is a fine, so... totally worth it."

"Okay, smartass," he pulled away, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, gazing down at you lovingly.

"Just saying," you smiled softly up at him, his hair falling into his face and his blue eyes sparkling. He really loved you, and it was evident just from the way he looked at you. He'd never felt anything like it before. He loved you so much it terrified him.

But, of course, you had to ruin the moment of peace because shutting up was not something you were wired to do, especially not in the face of such charged silence. "Your little friend is poking me again," you blurted out the words before you could stop yourself. Little friend? You really couldn't have come up with anything else?

Rafe couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as he rocked his hips against you, making you gasp softly. "He's just happy to see you." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned down at you, his fingers absently tracing along your side.

"Okay, well, can you tell him I don't really know him like that, so maybe he should calm down a little bit," you couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but you loved it, and you loved him. He understood you in a way you never thought you'd be understood by anyone.

"He says he's not planning on staying a stranger for much longer," he smirked, his hips rolling against yours.

"This is actually so stupid," you giggled, your hand covering your mouth as you laughed beneath him.

"Oh, now it's stupid?" He rolled his eyes, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "You're the one who started it."

"Shut up," you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "Okay, okay, you can... start now, I guess," you said awkwardly. There was only so long that you could stall with stupid dick jokes. Besides, you felt a little bad that he had been so patient and undoubtedly, extremely hard.

"About time," he murmured with faux annoyance, his voice low as he fiddled with his belt buckle and pulled it through the loops, tossing it aside before popping the button on his jeans and slowly unzipping them.

You sucked in a breath, trying to calm your nerves as the sound of him pulling his jeans off seemed to echo through the room. You wanted this. You knew you did, but you couldn't help the pit of fear in your stomach.

He paused, feeling your body tense beneath him as you took a deep breath, a sign he knew all too well. "Hey, look at me," he coaxed softly, cupping your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We can wait if you're not ready. Just tell me to stop, and I will, no questions asked, no hard feelings. We can just forget all about it," he reassured you.

Your heart fluttered as you heard your boyfriend's words, meeting his gaze and seeing the sincerity behind his eyes. "No, I- I want to. I'm just... scared, yknow," you bit your lip nervously, mentally kicking yourself. You always seemed to be scared. There probably wasn't a single thing in the world that you weren't scared of.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, pressing gentle kisses to your face, your neck, your collarbone—anywhere he could reach. "There's nothing wrong with being scared. It's your first time. If you weren't scared, that would be a little concerning."

You laughed softly at his words. "You just make sure you wrap it up. I don't know where you've been," you joked. "Safe sex is great sex as the Lil Wayne once wisely said."

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Lil Wayne, huh? I didn't know he moonlighted as a sex ed teacher." He reached into his bedside table, pulling out a foil packet and waving it in front of your face. "But don't worry, I'm always prepared."

"Jesus, that's a lot of condoms," you said, peering into his drawer and seeing way more condoms than you realistically thought one person would need. "You are a whore of massive proportions. Like, literally a menace to the female population."

"Oh, hush," he grinned, tearing open the packet and rolling the latex down over his length. "I bought them in bulk. You know, for... emergencies," He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, leaning back down to press kisses to your skin once more.

"Eugh," you giggled, your face scrunching up in disgust. "I genuinely do not want to know what a sex emergency is."

"Hey, a guy's gotta be prepared, okay?" He murmured against your neck, his breath warm. "Now, are you going to keep talking, or are you going to let me kiss you and calm you the hell down?"

"Yo, I am literally so calm," you rolled your eyes, lying through your teeth in the name of comedy and also not sounding like the total little loser virgin you were. "So calm and so chill. Literally have never been calmer or chiller in my life."

"Uh-huh," he hummed, clearly unconvinced as he pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, his fingers slowly trailing down your side, his touch gentle. "Because nothing says 'calm and chill' like sex jokes and rambling like you're on speed."

"Well, I can't help that I'm the funniest person alive," you argued, the realization dawning on you that you were naked, and he was naked, which meant there was only so many more sex jokes you could make before the sex actually commenced.

"You're not even in the top five funniest people I know," he teased, his fingers reaching your hip as he slowly pulled you closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"Oh, you got jokes, huh?" You grinned, nervously giggling when you felt his tip nudge at your entrance. "You better take that back if you wanna get laid tonight."

"I think I'll stick with my original statement," he said, his voice low and husky as he pressed forward, the head of his dick pushing into you slowly as he rubbed soothing circles on your hip. "You're just not funny enough to make the cut, sweetheart."

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing at the painful sensation. You grabbed his bicep for support, digging your nails into his arm. "Liar," you joked weakly, your chest heaving as you breathed through the intrusion.

"Shh, just breathe," he whispered against your neck, his voice low and soothing as he paused, letting you adjust to the foreign feeling. "You're doing so good, baby. You're taking it like a champ."

"Okay, don't call me champ while you're inside me," you grimaced, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted as you slowly adjusted to having him inside you.

"You okay, baby?" He asked softly, pushing the slightest bit further into you as he examined your reaction closely.

"Oh, yeah, just peachy," you said sarcastically. The pain was gradually starting to fade, making the whole thing more enjoyable by the second. Though, the pressure between your thighs was intense.

"Mhm, you're a real ray of sunshine," he chuckled softly, pushing the rest of the way into you, his body shuddering as he bottomed out. He was as deep as he could go, his hips flush against yours.

You gasped as he pressed all the way into you, your grip on his bicep tightening. "You're gonna look like you got mauled by a lion after this," you panted out, apologetic for the involuntary response.

"I'd wear that badge of honor proudly," he said, his voice thick with amusement as he slowly began to move, his hips rolling against yours in a gentle, soothing rhythm. "Now, shut up and let me make love to you."

"Don't say 'make love' either. That's so gross," you giggled softly, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he set a slow, pleasurable pace.

"Then what would you prefer I call it?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued his steady movements, the friction building between your bodies. "'Coitus'? 'Intercourse'? 'Fucking'?" He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust of his hips.

You moaned, your head falling back against the pillows and brows pinching in pleasure. Okay, you were definitely starting to see what all the fuss was about. "Let's just not refer to what's happening right now as anything at all."

"Mhm, I can work with that," he hummed, his pace picking up slightly as he felt you start to relax more, your body welcoming his thrusts. "Just focus on how good it feels, baby. Let me take care of you."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply as he continued to fuck you with a pace that demonstrated his love and devotion to you. He never thought he would be one for slow, romantic sex, but he didn't think he was into a lot of things before he met you. You had a way of making him discover things about himself he was completely clueless to.

As he kissed you, he slowly shifted his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that particularly sensitive spot inside you. He felt you tense up, a sharp gasp escaping your lips into the kiss, and he smiled against your mouth. "You like that, huh?"

"You're such an ass," you grinned, your fingers curling into his hair, back arching into him as his tip continued to hit that spongy spot inside you, the pressure low in your abdomen building.

"Maybe so, but you love it," he smirked against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips as he increased his pace, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm. "And you're gonna come for me again, baby. Aren't you?"

Your mouth fell open in pleasure, your breath hot against his lips. "uh huh," you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut. He was a cocky motherfucker, but he was hot and he put up with your shit, so it was only fair you put up with his in return.

"That's my girl," he purred, one hand sliding down to rub tight circles on your clit as he continued his relentless pace. "Come on, baby. Let me feel you. I want to watch you fall apart for me."

You gasped sharply at the added stimulation, his name leaving your lips in a whine as you tensed around him, sent over the edge for the second time.

He groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, the sensation of you practically choking his dick sending him into his own release. "Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself into the condom with a low moan of your name.

Your walls pulsed around him as you slowly came down from your high, relaxing into the mattress. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your whole body on fire and coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

He collapsed on top of you with a satisfied hum, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone as he softened inside you. "I love you, you know that?"

"Good 'cause otherwise this would be pretty awkward," you laughed breathlessly, gently raking your nails over his scalp soothingly. "But, seriously, I love you too," you added quietly after a beat of silence.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed /

[msgexymunson]

Benefits

Description: Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, AFAB reader, weed smoking, virgin Eddie x virgin reader, grinding, fingering, fem oral receiving.

A/N: I just wanted to write a little goofy, not so confident Eddie and this poured out of my brain hole. Enjoy! Reblogs and comments keep me alive so please for the love of all that is smutty reblog if you enjoy it! 

5k words

Masterlist

“All I'm saying is…” you take a big pull of the joint Eddie wiggles at you, his rough fingers brushing your lips. Your voice comes out croaky as hell when you speak, holding the smoke in, “...you can't do the voice.” 

The film plays quietly in the background as you both hang out on his couch, paying little attention to it. 

Eddie scoffs at you, taking the smoke back, and takes a big lug of it himself, hand coming to rest on your bare ankle that was thrown casually over his lap. 

“What you trying to say? You know I can do voices. I could totally do Vader.” 

Giggling, you wiggle your feet as he lightly drags his fingers over them. 

“Don't do that, you know it tickles!” 

Holding his hands up and away from you, you almost miss the contact. Which was insane. This is Eddie, for fucks sake. Your best friend. The asshole who made you nearly piss your pants in seventh grade from tickling too hard, who does stupid shit to get you to smile when you're sad. 

Recently though, the little lingering touches he gives you make your toes curl. Those glances that last a little too long for best friends, the drag of his hand on your back when you move through a crowd. It was crazy, but a part of you couldn't help but think he was feeling the same way. It wasn't like you were in love with the guy, at least not like that. He was almost family. Which made the feelings that you were having sinful in a way that made your thighs clench. 

The flirting didn't help. Eddie flirted as naturally as breathing. He was just so goddamn charming; he had chemistry with everyone. Which made it even more awkward. What if your salacious thoughts weren't reciprocated? Maybe it was just your raging hormones and you needed to keep them in check before you lose your best friend. 

“You're wrong you know.” 

Eddie's words bring you out of the daze you've been falling into; you blink at him, confused. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, and flashes you a smirk that does nothing to quench the fire inside, right when his large hands move to your waist and tickle you relentlessly. You're gasping giggles as he pins your hands over your head, full weight pressing into you. Somehow, he's got his narrow hips in between your thighs, which is definitely not helping the situation. 

“I can totally do the voice, see?” He drops it two octaves, letting a deep bass voice flow out of him, “Luke, I am your father.” 

Fuck, that shouldn't turn you on, but it did. That, and his forced proximity has you feeling uncomfortably wet. It's embarrassingly seeping into your panties; so much so that you cringe at your body's betrayal. 

He's just so damn close. So close, that you see something fluttering behind those brandy wine eyes of his. Or, was it merely your imagination?

Only one way to find out. 

Biting your lip, you flutter your eyelashes softly and speak in the sexiest voice you can.

“Does that mean I should call you Daddy?” 

Eddie's mouth drops open in a perfect O, eyebrows knitted. 

“You can't- you just- fuck!” 

He clambers off of you in an attempt to put some space between you, crossing his legs on the couch. Eddie looks flustered, cheeks burning red as he looks at you like you just grew an extra head. 

“I can't what, Eddie? Can't tease you like you tease me?” 

“Huh? I don't tease you! When did I-” 

“Oh, pinning me down don't count, huh?” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he blows air out, grabbing a cushion and ramming it in his lap. 

“I didn't mean it like that, it's just, I dunno.” 

Looking down at his hands, he fiddles with his rings. The sheepishness he's showing is adorable, and so unlike him that it stops you in your tracks. Maybe you should just go easy on him, just a little. 

“Don't worry about it Eds, I'm just fucking around.” 

There's a bit of tension released from his shoulders, but he's still not looking at you. 

Fuck, you need another smoke. 

“You want me to roll?” 

“Hell no, I've seen you roll.” 

Scrunching your nose in fake anger, he laughs at you. 

“Look like a little chipmunk when you do that.” 

“All I hear is that you think I'm adorable.” You giggle as he mockingly rolls his eyes. 

“OK, you roll, I'll grab some sodas.” 

Getting up, you smooth your skirt down and walk over to the fridge. The cans are on the lower shelf, so you bend to grab two, making a mental note to tell Eddie to buy some more. 

When you look back, Eddie's slid to the floor, rolling paraphernalia spread out in front of him. It would be a normal scene, if he didn't still have the cushion wedged in his lap and his face wasn't glowing redder than your underwear. 

Underwear… underwear that he might have seen, since you just bent over. And the only reason why he'd keep that cushion in his lap is if he… 

Oh. 

Wordlessly, you put the soda next to his elbow and scoot up on the couch, entirely unsure about what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. The furthest you've ever gone is some over the clothes stuff. 

Plus, this is Eddie. Your stupid, asshole, mean, tormenting, breathtakingly gorgeous best friend. You curse, wriggling a little in your seat. Your panties are so damp they're practically glued to your privates, a heat emanating from you that's making your insides burn. 

“Milady.” 

Eddie holds the joint to you, perfectly rolled and more surprisingly, unlit.

“Eddie, you always take the first toke. Rollers rights, remember?” 

He shrugs and passes it anyway, giving you the lighter too, as he lifts himself onto the couch with both hands, letting his cushion shield drop briefly. Long enough to see the tightness in the crotch of his pants. 

Now the feel of your slick is dampening your thighs. Pushing them together as tight as you can, willing the feeling to dissipate, you light it with trembling hands. One puff, two puffs, pass. As his fingers graze yours, he looks at you appraisingly.

“You alright there sweetheart? Not comfy?” 

Nothings gonna happen if you just sit here and whine like a bitch in your head. Take the leap. 

“It's a little, er, embarrassing.” 

Knees squeezing together so hard it's bordering on painful, you look up at him through your lashes. Eddie's eyes are wide and warm, a light smile wrinkling them at the corners softly. 

“It's only me, come on. You can tell me anything.”

Huffing and wriggling some more, you watch him inhale smoke, and blow it out, a slight pout to his mouth that makes you want to pepper it with soft kisses. Then hard kisses. Then, other stuff. Fuck. 

“It's not- we don't, talk about this kinda stuff. I don't wanna… cross a line, you know?”

“Hey, it's alright.” His thick fingers shakily touch your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. You're not sure if it calms you or makes you worse. It could be both. 

“Fine. Just, don't look at me when I tell you this, ‘kay?” 

There's a little laugh from him, then he rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes staring resolutely to the ceiling. 

“Alright weirdo I'm not looking. Shoot.” 

Tightening your knuckles, your face creases with the effort as you let fly the words that may well end your friendship. 

“I'm uncomfortable, I'm just- fuck, I'm really wet, OK?”

Of all the things you could say, you know Eddie was not expecting you to say that. Especially when he blushes profusely and his grip tightens hard on the cushion in his lap. True to his word, his gaze is directed firmly on the ceiling. 

“That's really-” His voice is broken; squeaky and boyish. He coughs and it comes out much lower, almost comically so. “That's, er, interesting.” 

You can't help it. A crazy laugh shoots out of your throat. An insane laugh. A mental institution laugh. It seems fitting for the situation. Here you are, on Eddie fucking Munson’s couch, telling him how wet you are? You've finally lost it. 

He laughs with you, helping to diffuse some of the awkward energy filling the room.

“Sorry Eddie. It just feels a bit, surreal, you know?” 

Eddie risks a look at you when he hands the joint back. You both stare at each other, each wishing to read the other's mind. 

Remember who you're talking to. This is Eddie. You can talk to him about anything. 

“Listen, Eddie, this is way out of fucking left field but I'm gonna say it. Have you like, done stuff, before?” 

Taking the biggest inhale you can risk without swallowing the roach, you pass the smoke back. There's a very slight shake to Eddie's hand. For some reason it gives you a bit more confidence. His voice wobbles more dramatically than you've ever heard.

“You mean like, sexual, stuff?” 

He finishes the smoke and stubs it out, glancing at you. There's a heat in his eyes that you're not used to seeing. 

“Y-yeah, I mean, honest truth? I've only done over the clothes stuff. Nothing more than that. And you?” 

Eddie coughs, puffing his chest out a little in full man-mode.

“I mean, yeah sure, a bit more than that, you know.” 

You do know. You know by the way he worded that, he's at least not gotten past third base. 

“You're a virgin too then.” 

“Hey!” He huffs, turning to you, “I'm like, way less of a virgin than you are!” 

You laugh loudly, knocking his arm with your fist. 

“Doesn't make you less of a virgin, you idiot.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. 

“Suppose you're right. Some hook-ups ‘round the back of The Hideout don't count for much.”

Reaching for his hand, you brush his knuckles with tentative fingers. 

“Eddie, what I'm trying to say is, well maybe- we could help each other out? I'm a bit… frustrated, and so are you. You know?” 

He squirms a little, recoiling from your touch. 

“What makes you think I'm frustrated?” 

“Eddie, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know why you're grabbing that cushion.” 

He laughs, his special fake laugh he reserves for awkward occasions. That is, until you grab the cushion from his lap and throw it across the room.

He's hard, almost painfully so. It's pressing against his zipper in such a way that you know it must be uncomfortable. You take in a harsh breath as you look at his face. So many emotions seem to be fighting for dominance. Clear arousal, some confusion, a little bit of pity, maybe? Which is the last thing you want to see.

Maybe you were wrong.

“I'm saying that we can help each other. I'm attracted to you. I'm not declaring my love for you or anything. It's not like, some crazy confession. I'm just saying we could… relieve each other.”

“Oh.” His whole demeanour has shifted at your words, “so you don't like, love me, or anything?” 

“Eddie, you are so fucking stupid. Of course I love you, you're my best friend. Just not like that. I mean, I kinda want you to… touch me places, don't mean I want your hand in marriage!” 

His chuckle rings against the tinny walls of the trailer. Then, he looks at you, really looks at you. Biting his lip, he walks his hands toward you, stopping just shy of your constricted knees. 

“Glad you said that. I didn't know how to say that I kinda… well, that I like you, that way, but not like… man, you said it better.” 

And just like that, your Eddie was back. It wasn't weird, far from it. After the way you'd been acting around each other for years, it just made sense. 

You both smile at each other. A genuine, familiar smile. One that hurts your cheeks, that makes your chest fill with warmth. 

“I know this is like, super weird, but it might help, you know?” 

Eddie crawls further towards you, palms splayed on your knees. The simple touch has you quivering. 

“What if it's too weird? I don't want this to ruin our friendship.” 

You smile softly, and unclench your thighs slightly, knees spreading. Enough to make his eyes dart down to your core and back up, laced with want. 

“Tell you what Eds. Kiss me.” 

“And how is that gonna help?”

You laugh, beckoning him forwards. As if on a string, he leans toward you, his rough hands grazing the tops of your thighs. You try to disguise the gasp it elicits from you, but it doesn't seem necessary. Eddie's breathing hard, hard enough to hide any impromptu noises from you. 

“Just kiss me Eddie. If it's weird and gross, we'll laugh about it. If it's, erm, better than that… well, then we can maybe take it a little further.”

Eddie leans in more, hovering over you as your head rests naturally into the armrest. But he stops, inches from your face, hesitating. 

“I don't- shit, I don't know what to do!” 

Laughing loud, you reach out and twirl a section of his hair in your soft hands, adding definition to a curl. 

“Just, use a move on me. You know? Like I'm one of those girls at The Hideout. Come on.” 

He laughs, knuckles dragging over your cheek. 

“That's… this isn't the same. You're not like that ” 

“Fine, just- come on to me. Hit me with your best shot. Just, I dunno, just-”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue as he cradles your jaw and presses his full lips softly to yours. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He holds your face almost delicately, tongue lapping gently at your lip until you allow him to slip it inside. 

It's a slow, deliberate thing, as if he's mapping out your mouth in case you never agree to do this again. Not that that's a danger to you. His tongue is burning hot; a slippery warm need, igniting the fire that was already smouldering within you. 

His form relaxes slightly, allowing his weight to drop. His chest falls onto yours, no doubt telling him of the heaving gasps you're taking. You couldn't find it in you to mind, not whilst he's prising your legs open with one knee, his thigh pressing against just where you need it most. 

A moan races out of your mouth and into his, muffled into his chasing tongue. The warmth between your legs is just getting worse, stoked by the pressure of his searching knee. Suddenly there's tension exactly where you need it, the coarse denim of his thigh rubbing hard against your throbbing nub. 

“Eddie, fuck!”

He smiles into your mouth as he pushes his leg harder, groans overtaking his mouth as you use it to chase your pleasure. 

His perfect mouth traces down your jaw, nipping and sucking at your flesh. His thick tongue lathing over your taut muscles, your tiny fingers grasping onto his arms almost pathetically. 

When he breaks away to look at you, eyes searching for doubts, you can't help but think how beautiful he looks. His hair's a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, and those full lips look even plumper than before. 

“Sorry, should have checked in. Was that, alright? Not too weird?” 

You try to slow your breathing, but it's no use. It usually takes you a while to get there on your own, but you were so close to coming on Eddie's leg after a couple of minutes of making out it was almost shameful. 

“I'll say, jeez. I nearly- er, got carried away.” 

“Really?” Eddie's eyes seem to brighten as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a cheeky grin. 

“Don't let that get to your head! I'm just really… needy right now.” 

“Fuck,” he replies, adjusting his bulge, “right, carried away, you say?”

Before you can process what he's said he leaps up, grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. Your giggling squeals echo through the trailer, ringing out like the peals of a bell as he barges into his room and throws you on the bed. Laughing and red faced, with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your arms flung above your head, you notice Eddie's gaze shamelessly skimming to your panties. 

Shaking out of his bare faced revelry he jumps onto the bed next to you, eager as a kid at Christmas. He's on his side, a large hand roaming over your stomach, across your waist, down to your hips and skimming just under your thin sweater. 

“You want me to take this off?” You ask, tugging at the hem. 

“Oh, er- yeah, I-I mean if you- do you want to take it off?” 

Eddie bumbles through his words as you giggle at him, his usual confident demeanour evaporated at the thought of your body. 

“Eddie you dingus, you've literally seen me in my underwear before!” 

“Well, yeah… but that was before you, er, filled out.” 

It was a long time ago. A hot Summer spent running around the trailer park hitting each other with water balloons. You'd almost forgotten how far back it was.

“You don't have to be scared of my boobs ya know.” 

Eddie scoffs, hitting you playfully with a flick of his finger on the tip of your nose. You grab it, trying to bite it but he's pulling it away and you follow. It turns into yet another wrestling match as laughter rings from the pair of you. He tries to hold his hand up high but then you straddle him. 

Suddenly, his arm goes limp and you pull the offending digit into your mouth triumphantly, nibbling softly. It's then you realise you're straddling his stomach and he's completely lost, staring at the way your skirt is wrinkled. 

Play fight discarded, you shimmy down his body and revel in the little shaking breath Eddie makes as you sit gently on his crotch, the hardened bulge pressing into your clothed heat. 

“Fuck, you're so warm.” 

You blush as his fingers dig into your hips as if afraid you'll disappear. 

“You can feel that, through your jeans?” 

He chuckles low in his throat and the sound travels straight to your tummy, letting loose a cascade of butterflies. 

“Feel it? It's like a freaking furnace. Bet it'll feel amazing inside you.” 

It's just Eddie, running his mouth; in fact it seems he didn't mean to say that out loud judging by the look on his face. He always has an issue separating outside thoughts and inside thoughts. It was so casually spoken though, you don't think he realised just how dirty it sounded. 

Your fingers smooth up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under the contact, pulling his shirt up with them. 

“Really hot when you say stuff like that.” 

You're embarrassed admitting it, but you're so turned on that he needs to know how much his words affect you. Mostly so he'll keep using them.

“Yeah?” 

“Hmm.” 

You're dragging nails over his abdomen, tugging his t-shirt higher and higher. He doesn't seem to mind, firm hands pulling your hips slowly back and forth. So you take a shot, and yank it up high. He gets the message, lifting his arms over his head so you can fling it off and away. 

There's no subtlety to the way he pulls at your top, sitting up to wrench it off you. He's panting, eyes raking over your red cotton bra as if you were in the finest lingerie. Then your lips crash together, desperately exploring each other's mouths, teeth clashing in urgency. You collapse on top of him as he holds your hip with one hand, guiding you over his hardness as the other palms your breast over your bra. 

That feeling is back, the burning tingling mass of arousal clutching your insides, growing and growing quicker than ever. You rut against him, each pass sending a zip of sensation all the way from your clit to the tips of your toes. 

Moaning in his mouth, you break away and he nips at your neck, rough fingers snaking into your bra to clumsily rub your nipple. You cling to his waist tightly as the feeling mounts, and mounts, and finally- 

“Eddie! Oh- oh fuckin’ hell!” 

It happens. The thing that had never happened to you outside of your own late night desperate fumblings. It flows like liquid fire through your veins, buzzing across your skin in a wild burning sensation that takes you utterly by surprise. Your sounds are feral; incoherent and needy, as your thighs grasp him firmly as if in fear of him moving away. 

After a loaded silence, whilst you both breathe, and breathe, you finally unclasp your legs around him, falling to the side in an ungainly heap of arms and legs.  

“Well. Holy fucking shit.” you laugh nervously, legs shaking with the after effects.

“So, not too weird?” He smiles, taking the opportunity to get on top of you, arms either side of your head. 

“It's a little weird. Only ever, you know, came, on my own, so yeah.” 

“Yeah?” The cocky look is back, a hand trailing down your shoulder to rest on your breast. 

“Can I take this off, please?” 

You smile and lift your back up so he can slide his hand behind you, fumbling around to try and get the clasp, swearing under his breath. 

“I don't know, can you?” You question, stifling giggles. 

“You could just help me, you know, you-you devil woman- Oh wait I did it!” 

The clasp springs free and Eddie's proud smile nearly splits his face apart as he eagerly pulls down the straps. 

“You're such a goofball.”

“You've got amazing tits, Jesus Christ.” 

Heat flushes your chest and before you can retort he's kneeling between your legs, hot mouth sucking roughly on a nipple. Words fail you, your body the only thing talking as you arch your back and push toward his greedy lips. Letting go with a loud pop, he sucks a hickey right in the middle of your sternum, running his thumb over the wet mark after. 

“I wanna go down on you.” He blurts it out, spill words tugging out of his lips before he can stop them. 

“You wanna what?” You respond, dazed as he looks up at you, eyes full of fire. 

“I wanna use my mouth on you. Down here.” 

He drags his fingers low, pressing one just to the top of your mound. 

“You really want to?” As far as you're aware, that's not a thing guys tend to want to do. At least that's what you've heard. Eddie seems to be an exception. 

“More than anything.” He's brutally honest, eyes wide and begging. 

“I mean, if you want to, sure.” 

“OK, shit, just wait a sec.” 

Getting up so fast it must make his head spin, he unbuttons his jeans and wrestles them down his legs, tossing them away. The tent in his boxers makes your eyes widen.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he climbs back on the bed. 

“Sorry, just so fuckin’ hard it hurts.” 

Nothing can stop the whimper that shoots out of your mouth at his words. Again, he's just being honest, but he doesn't seem to understand how sexy it is. 

Moving to unzip your skirt, he bats your hand away to do it himself. Before he pulls it off, he looks at you nervously. 

“Just, let me know if you don't like something. Or if you do. I've er, I've not done this before so lower your expectations.” He laughs it out, embarrassment coating each word. 

“I thought you had a bunch of hook ups at The Hideout?” You tease, smirking at him. 

“Right, full disclosure, I've erm, used my fingers before, a few times. And once- once some girl tried to give me head and I busted in like three seconds, OK?” 

He grabs a bunch of his hair and hides behind it while you chuckle. 

“Eddie, it's fine, I'm glad you told me. It's just me. I'm not gonna judge you, you know that.” 

“Yeah, of course.” The breath he lets out is loud, tension melting from his body, and he bends to pull your skirt down and off. Your panties are next; they cling to your core so much it makes you cringe, but he doesn't seem to mind. 

“Can you, spread your legs a little sweetheart?” His voice is husky, eyes staring straight at your pussy. Feeling exposed, you do as he asks, fighting the urge to pull away from his gaze. 

“Look at you. Beautiful.” 

Smiling at his words, it turns into an open mouthed gasp as he strokes his fingers softly through your folds. 

“Fuck me, you're soaked.” 

Then his tongue is slipping across you, feeling tentatively as he keeps your legs wide with his rough palms. It's different; wet and messy, but it's incredible. The pleasure increases tenfold as his wandering mouth finds your clit. 

“Eddie, right there, right there!” 

He groans, pushing his face into you so hard you can feel the vibrations from the noise. He's moving his tongue up and around it, making an absolute mess of spit and slick over you. Suddenly he tries sucking and your back leaves the bed, hands coming to clutch at his hair. 

“Oh my God, do that again, please please, oh fuck!” 

He does it again, and again, smoothing each suckle with a flat lick from his tongue. Fingers graze your hole suddenly, making you jump. As you look down you see Eddie's entirely consumed by what he's doing, rutting himself into the mattress like an animal. One finger breaches you, feeling around, pumping slowly in and out. It's good, but it's not great. 

You feel ashamed even trying to guide him but you attempt to shake it off. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” He looks up, an almost dazed expression in his eyes. 

“Can you- can you curl your finger upward?” 

“Like this?” 

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips rucking up to his touch. 

“Fuuuck.” 

“Yeah? That good, sweetheart?” 

That smugness is back but it isn't in you to care. There's no words, just little whimpers and moans as you grab him by the hair and push his mouth back where you need it. 

When he adds another finger, you're gone. Your walls are clenching around him, sucking him in as the feeling of his thick digits stretching you fills your entire being. Dots dance in your vision as your whole body feels fuzzy, tingles whispering over your skin. You cry out as the feeling escalates, bubbling through you until you can't see, can't think, clawing at Eddie's head until you reach an impossible precipice. Then, it explodes, showering you in waves, over and over. 

“Oh my God that was amazing, fuck Eddie, you're incredible, I never came that hard in all my life, Jesus Christ!” 

You're babbling, you know, bubbles of platitudes popping out of your mouth in almost nonsensical sounds as your legs twitch like crazy. 

Eddie scoots up a little, face pressed into the plush of your stomach. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Leaning up on your elbows, you pull his hair a little making him look at you. 

“You alright there? What'd you say?” 

Eddie laughs, kissing your tummy, face flushed pink. 

“I said I fuckin’ came in my pants.” 

Then he hides again, as if your skin can cover his embarrassment. 

“Eddie, come here you dope.” 

He climbs up you, leaning on quivering arms. The front of his boxers pushes on your sticky core. 

“Don't worry about it, that's kinda hot.” 

“Yeah? You're hot. That was, wow. I think I found my favourite place.” 

You giggle, pressing kisses to his lips. There's still traces of you on him but you don't care. 

“Can you tell me what you said again?” He asks, grin fighting to envelop his whole face. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, how I'm the most incredible lover in existence.” Waggling his eyebrows at you, he strokes a wayward hair off of your sweaty forehead. 

“I did not say that!” 

“I'm paraphrasing, it was pretty close.” 

You hit him on the chest playfully and he falls to the side in a terrible act of mock pain. Crawling on top of him, you continue to smack him, fake punches thrown at his ribs. 

“OK, you win, I cannot best you!” 

Grabbing your hand, he kisses your knuckles and you melt against him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. They turn harder, tongues massaging each other as he runs his hands down your back. 

You break away to plant a single kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“Maybe in a bit, you know, when you've… recovered…” 

Dragging your nails down his lean chest you look up at him, biting your lip. 

“We can… go all the way?” 

Eddie's face lights up. He grabs you and flings you down so he's on top, kissing your neck and jaw sloppily as you squeal at the sudden onslaught. 

“Yes, fuck yes, gimme like two minutes, five tops.” 

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM so I don't lose the request, thank you)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[pearlzier]

now playing . . . cowboy by tyler the creator 𓈒⠀ ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀ㅤׂ ⠀warnings / smut, cheating, random ass boyfriend called josh, reader is wearing a skirt, oral (m!receiving), p in v, public kinda (they're outside in the garden), unprotected sex (idk no mattlings running around yetzies)

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀ㅤׂ ⠀word count / lots of words like over 2k probably ??

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀ㅤׂ ⠀author's note / i got so carried away this was supposed 2 be a drabble LMFAOOO have fun w this :3

"THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND. YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER, ALRIGHT?" is what he was told, the moment he met you.

and he listened. he really tried to. until he couldn't anymore. until he had you pinned against the wall of his friend's house, creaming on his dick. it sounds insane, it probably was, but matt was a man pushed to his last straw with a very pretty girl at the end of it. you can't blame him for that, even if it does sound cruel. to be honest, his initial resilience and resistance of temptation should've been a dead giveaway to the way he would fall into the claws of desire so hard.

matt didn't think much when he heard that josh had gotten a girlfriend. he was happy for his friend, glad that he'd found someone. he didn't expect you to be drop dead fucking gorgeous. to be so pretty. he had to do a double take when he first saw you, absolutely stunned. josh wasn't that bad looking, no, but.. to pull a girl like you was a massive feat for anyone. you're like, so fitting for josh. but at the same time, that makes you fitting for matt. of course you are.

he's fully aware of how he stared at you the first time he saw you, which caused josh to say—"that's my girlfriend. you stay the fuck away from her, alright?"—bringing him out from the daze of lewd thoughts and inappropriate positions his brain had already put you in. was he a shit friend? probably.

this resulted in matt having a bit of a staring problem as you'd called it. it wasn't creepy or anything, it was actually appreciated and polite. albeit very much loaded. it was like you knew he was head over heels for you and decided to dangle your affection infront of him in some form of torture. it was not fair how he had to hide his boner around you. absolutely torture.

he couldn't hang out with josh like he used to simply because of your presence. and you fucking knew it too, you tease. it was your favourite thing to wear the tiniest clothes around him or simply bat your lashes and giggle in the most adorable way. matt was pretty sure you wanted him dead, just from how amazing you were. once again, at a party held at josh's place, he's day dreaming a little taking you in. his blue eyes flicker over you, he swallows thickly, glancing down at the soda he had in his hands. he'd barely drank any of it, if any. too distracted by your presence.

trying to focus his attention on something else, he glances away from you, focusing his attention on some other girls dancing together. they want his attention, you just.. capture his attention without even trying. until you actually did try to get his attention, flashing him that soft little smile when your eyes met his. he has to practically force his jaw shut after it drops at the sight of you. he's so whipped for his friend's girlfriend.

matt curses himself for the way he glances away like a little kid when you meet his gaze, and he knows you most definitely saw it. he swallows hard, trying to focus on somerhing but you once more. it becomes impossible when he feels a presence which he knows is most definitely you beside him. his mouth goes dry.

"hi, matt," you say, all coy, like you don't know the exact effect you have on him. matt glances up at you, trying not to seem as awkward as he feels. his lashes flutter as he tries ro come up with a response that feels chill, not.. insane. "hey," he settles on—it's simple, casual. doesn't betray the thoughts in his head.

the smile on your glossy lips only grows at that. it's like you can see directly through him into his soul. your eyes rake over him for a moment, as you consider what to say, "you havin' fun?" you watch him, waiting for a response even if you know exactly how he's feeling. matt goes quiet, brain whirling once more in an attempt to seem normal. "sure," he starts, "just.. y'know.." great job, matt. he seems so normal, right? great.

the laugh you let out at his response has his gut tightening along with his jeans, and he swears he can feel his heart in his throat for a moment. matt runs his fingers through his hair, playing with his rings in a nervous movement. "y'know?" your words are soft, curious, as if coaxing him to continue. he really doesn't want to, but he does, anyway.

"uh," matt scratches the back of his neck, an awkward chuckle slipping past his lips. you don't think its awkward at all, no, you think it's adorable. endearing. he's adorable. "a little bored, i guess, but.. never really been much of a party guy," his blue eyes meet yours again and the intensity, the tension, makes him glance away once more. you laugh again, making his cheeks flush.

"bored? here? m'surprised, everyone's like.. having the time of their lives," you're not wrong—everyone is having the time of their lives.

"i could think of plenty of other things that would constitute as the time of my life, this isn't one of 'em," matt snarks playfully, finding himself comfortable with you almost instantly. you have this vibe, this comfortable aura that makes people relax and chill out. trustworthy, in a way. "i get it, don't worry. besides the dancing and people and.. things, it's not that entertaining." he can agree with that, and he nods, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he leans back against the wall.

this allows him a moment to take you in. he shouldn't have done that. that once over only made his thoughts about you worse. horrifically worse, oh god. matt glanced at the ceiling as if the faint stain on it was interesting. it wasn't. he'd much rather leave stains with you on some sheets. even he cringed at his own thoughts. "come outside with me," you offer after a moment. everything about you oozes innocent but matt can't help but think you're anything but. he thinks about josh and swallows, mumbling, "i don't think josh would like that very much."

"he's not here right now, is he?" you remember very vividly josh had gone out to grab some drinks for the party with another friend of his, having headed to the convenience store near his house. which left you with free reign of the party, and the chance to do whatever you fucking pleased. and you wanted to do matt. the obvious answer.

matt's a tiny bit stunned by your words and he blinks slowly, processing for a minute before his brain catches up and he nods quickly, pushing off of the wall with an eagerness he's embarassed at. "you're right," he starts, "yeah, okay," he nods towards the door leading outside to the back garden with the hot tub and such. he's a tiny bit nervous you're playing with him, to go back and tell josh what he's doing, however you seem just as into this as he is, and he nods once more.

he takes the lead, glancing back frequently to check you're still there. you are, thankfully, and he gains a tiny bit more confidence. "you look nice," he murmurs, quiet, so if you didn't hear him he wouldn't have to repeat himself. you did hear him, however, and you feel flush at that. that soft smile only grows more, "thank you. can say the same," matt laughs softly, glancing away bashfully. he holds the door for you, delighting in the way your soft body brushes against his. he wants to feel more. wants to feel you under him, above him, around him.

it's cool outside, an easy breeze that contrasts to the warm heat of bodies within the house. you visibly relax which makes him relax too. he's quiet, you're quiet, the two of you making your way to a quiet part of the garden. it's sort of an alley, the bit between the back gate and the house itself. he likes how private it is. "so," matt starts, "so," you respond in return. it's not an awkward silence, but gentle. he laughs softly, he doesn't even know why. you're just so pretty it makes him giddy. and he says it. "you look so pretty."

"you think i look pretty?" you know you look pretty. when don't you?

"uh-huh," he nods, gently. "real pretty," he swallows hard. you overwhelm him. "sometimes i think—" he shouldn't go down that rabbit hole, especially not infront of you.

but he'd already gone too far, you'd heard him. "you think what?" you're always so attentive and inquisitive, he hates it. not really, he adores it, but sometimes he wishes you'd let things slide more often. matt curses under his breath, blue eyes soft.

"sometimes i think about if you were mine," matt's voice is quiet, almost scared as to how you'll react. he thinks you'll flip out at him, slap him, call him insane. but you don't, a soft looking appearing in your eyes. you look at matt with this gentle curiosity that coaxes him into saying more; "because you're.. you're just so gorgeous, and sweet, and funny, and you smile at me when i'm having the shittest days ever and i just fucking wish you weren't with josh because god, i'd make you feel so good, baby," he doesn't think twice about calling you baby and you don't think twice about how good you feel when he says that.

"now you're just begging me to kiss you," your tone is playfully soft, and matt looks a tiny bit weary, like he's scared you're joking. his plush lips are parted, soft puffs of air slipping past, "kiss me?" he asks gently, blue eyes innocent in how surprised he is. you want to kiss him?

you decide to answer without words, gently grasping at his hoodie and drawing him in for a gentle kiss. your lips meet, a soft groan slipping past matt's lips almost instantly. his hands hover around your waist, as he's scared to touch you, like he doesn't deserve to, so you gently mumble against him, "you can touch me," just to make it crystal clear you're okay with this. his lips are soft, gentle, his mouth tasting faintly like the soda he'd been drinking and a faint vanilla lip balm that made his lips so plush. your lips are equally soft, the glitter of your lip-gloss transferring to his lips and leaving a glittery sheen on them.

matt lets out a soft whine when your lips have to come off eachother, to simply get air. fuck air, he thinks to himself, but he doesn't say it outloud. "josh," he says gently, his brain immediately thinking to the worst scenario. you, however, don't look fussed. "what about him?" your relaxed demeanour and absolutely no worry in your gait makes his cheeks flush more, but also a confidence grow within him. he quickly grasps at your hips and brings you into him, thumbs stroking over the fabric of your skirt.

"nothing," he says quietly, practically breathing you in. the smell of your perfume made him dizzy. he wanted to suffocate in it. god, if you heard his thoughts.. "no—nothing about him," he slides his hands over your sides, and he's trying to resist the urge to grope at your body. "nothing, ma," he wants to kiss you again. "can i kiss you again?"

"mhm," you hum gently, preening into his touch with your eyes lifting up to his. your smile only grows, a giggle slipping past your lips once more. "i suppose so." matt eagerly slips his hand down to your ass, grasping gently to tug you impossibly closer before he presses his lips to yours again. his tongue brushes yours, and you eagerly reciprocate it again. as he grasps at your ass, your hands slide to his arms and hold yourself against him.

"god, you're so pretty," he murmurs against your lips, whimpering the words out gently. you slide your hands up and down his arms, making a shiver flutter down his spine a little. "s'not fair, how come he gets you?" his voice is whiny, like he really can't believe that you're his, even if he wants you so bad.

you raise your brows, "you're getting me right now." your words are a soft reminder, that he shouldn't think about his bestfriend, your boyfriend at this very moment. matt practically melts the moment you drop to your knees infront of him. he glances around frantically for a second as if josh is gonna pop out of a bush or something. this feels like a dream, like it's not real, but your fingers tugging on the zip of his jeans was very much real.

"are you not uncomfortable?" of course that's what he's worried about. your comfort. it's adorable how his blue eyes search yours to find any hesitation. he doesn't find any.

"m'fine, don't worry yourself 'bout it, matt," he's dreamed of this before. woken up with his boxers sticky at the thought of you on your knees for him. he swallows thickly, "okay," he breathes out, sounding a little on edge.

matt whines under his breath when you tug at the zip, his chest rising and falling in gentle breaths whilst he watched you. the cold air hits his thighs when you manage to tug down the denim previously covering him, and he lets out a nervous little laugh. "oh my god," he mumbles, he'd never thought he'd have you like this. your fingers brush his legs, making him practically buckle at the knees. "you don't have to, i mean—" he'd fully planned on being the one to make you feel good, but from how eagerly you're tugging at his boxers, he's pretty sure he'll get to wait.

"i want to, though," there's such certainty in your voice. it's attractive.

he swallows thickly when he feels you tug down his boxers, a quiet yelp slips past his lips. his tip leaks precum, clearly having been doing so for a while now considering the stain on the front of his boxers. matt would feel embarassed if it wasn't for how badly he wants to fuck your throat till you cry, pretty tears on your cheeks. he's so hard, it almost hurts. "you look so good," he mumbles quietly, "oh, god."

your eyes flutter over him, taking in the sight of his cock appraisingly. "says you," matt blushes instantly at your words, "me? pretty? that's just because my dick's out, isn't it?"

"that too," you shrug, running your fingers up over his thigh. the touch is light, and you realise you like touching him a lot. the faint shiver in his leg, the way he watches you so attentively at every tiny movement—you feel wanted. so, so wanted. more than josh ever made you feel. he instinctively pumps his hand on his cock, a pitiful whine slipping past him as his head tilts back a little. he hasn't even been touched yet, and he's yours. he thumbs his slit for a moment, coaxing more precum to drip. smearing it over the swollen head, he gently guides it to your mouth, watching as the tip pushed against your plush lips. "is this okay? do you—is this.." matt doesn't know why he's so nervous. he'd been with plenty of girls before so this isn't anything different, but it is. you're amazing.

"you're worried," you start, "but i wanna make you feel good," words mumbled against his tip, you leave little kisses as you speak—"let me," you say softly, watching as he strokes his cock once more. matt's hesitant for another moment, scared of making you uncomfortable, before he decides to let go of those fears and just go for it. his hand slides to the back of your head, cradling as he tugs your mouth onto him, watching your plush lips stretch to accommodate his girth. the sight is gorgeous, a gasp escaping him as he watches you.

"holy shit," he's gentle with you, wanting to worship the land you walk on in this very moment. your pretty eyes on his as you gag around him a little, grasping at his thighs to steady yourself. your lips leave a little gloss imprint on him, a quiet giggle coming from him at that. but he's also giddy about how warm your mouth feels around him, and the urge to just start thrusting his hips is palpable. "you feel so.." his hips move in gentle, shallow thrusts, trying not to go too far. you moan around him, a pretty sound which makes him whimper again.

your lashes fluttering as you swirl your tongue around the tip, making a mess of him as your drool runs in globs down the sides of his cock. he likes the way you struggle a little, but his head's fuzzy at how good you make him feel. "so, so good, ah, ah—" matt makes the prettiest noises, eyes squeezing shut the moment he starts rutting his hips against you, bullying his dick further down your throat. "fuck, fuck, shit.. like that.." he mumbles under his breath, hands drawing you closer by the back of your head.

it doesn't help the way you start to bob your head, his thighs tensing beneath your touch as he whines, "so.. fuck.. makin' me feel so good, baby, uh-huh," you have to breathe through your nose to take him as deep as you want, which is deeper than matt had anticipated. not that he was complaining. you felt so good, your mouth so warm and wet around him. more precum leaks from his tip at your motions, and you swallow for a moment slowly, the salty taste making you moan around him.

that makes his thighs tense once more, a quiet whimper bubbling from his throat before it drops into a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as he grunted out, "gonna cum, shit.. mmh, gonna—gonna cum," thick, white ropes of cum spurt as he lets go, warming your throat and painting its surface. he holds you close still, even as you swallow down his load, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths.

he looks so pretty like this—all blissed out and weightless from how good you'd just made him feel. his lashes flutter, blue eyes now on yours as his eyes open, and he stammers out quickly, "i'm so sorry, i didn't ask, i just assumed that.. that—"

"it's okay, hey," you liked everything he was doing. it felt good. you enjoyed swallowing whatever he gave you, it wasn't like you weren't enjoying yourself. the awkward way in which he handled his feelings towards you made your heart warm, a soft, nervous smile playing on his plush, pink lips now. "yeah?" he asks gently, swallowing hard. he's got an idea, brewing in his head. "okay. uhm, here, uh.."

he glances down at himself, embarassed at how hard he still is despite the fact he'd just came down your throat. but he's got a plan to fix that, as his hands slip down to help you back up. "here.." he mumbles, a little clumsy in how he handles you but it's still way more.. comfortable than it is with josh. even when you're outside against a brick wall. "is this okay?" he asks, running a ring-clad hand over the curve of your thigh for a moment before he presses you against the wall, letting your back come against it.

"this is okay," even a simple, is this okay, has you soaked. he's so considerate.

"it is?" he asks, gently, fingers brushing the hem of your underwear, tugging slowly with a curl of his index and middle.

"you're worrying," you murmur, expression soft.

"just wanna treat you right," matt says gently, tugging down your underwear finally. you flinch a little at the cold air hitting your wet cunt, his blue eyes following the string of your arousal clinging to your panties from your hole. he swallows thickly at the sight, sliding your underwear into his pocket for safe keeping. it'd be a miracle if you got those back after. "make you feel as good as you made me, baby," he shifts you against the wall.

you're pretty sure you're dripping down your thighs, and matt can't help a bashful smile at the sight. "up," he says gently, and you oblige, lifting your legs to hook around his waist so he holds you up with his body. it's an interesting position, but this is an interesting predicament, you suppose. "thank you," he says gently, unable to stop himself. he feels.. just.. amazing.

"what are you thankin' me for?" you giggle, head tilting. you're trying not to focus on how good you feel as the head of his cock glides over your folds, parting them gently enough to rub against your clit. he hasn't even been inside you yet and you're pretty sure you could make a mess right there and then.

"lettin' me have you," matt says it like it's obvious, scoffing a little at the way you look at him so curiously. his hands slide down to your thighs, gripping and tugging you closer to hold you up and give himself leverage to slide into you. he pumps his hand over himself once or twice, smacking the head against your cunt before he slowly starts pushing into your tight hole. a whine escapes both of you when he does so, the tight stretch making both you and matt shiver. "oh god, oh.."

if he could stay buried in you forever, he would. if you could have him in you forever, you would. he stretches you so good, a little muffled whimper coming from you as you'd nuzzled into his shoulder to keep yourself steady. "matt," you whine, "so good," he revels in your praise, a fluttery feeling in his stomach at how you seem to adore him. matt's careful, easing himself into you till he bottoms out, fitting snug within your sensitive pussy.

his head tilts back with a groan, content to just stay there like that, but he can feel you grow a tad bit impatient with a little rock of your hips. "i got you," he says with a little nod, slowly easing back before he rocks his hips forward again. he does this a couple more times till he finds an easy rhythm, the slickness of your pussy allowing him to just slip in and out. "is this o—"

"matt, it's fucking okay," he can't help but laugh at the way you snap st him, your words shaky as you watch the way his cock disappears into your tight hole, the wet sounds making your stomach feel all fluttery just like his. the rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin makes you feel all the more connected to matt, your eyes searching his. "it's okay, more than—shit, mmh.." you just make the perfect sounds as he gradually finds himself pounding into you, hands holding you up against him.

his movements are a little sloppy and clumsy, a testament to how badly he wants you, wants you to feel good, wants to feel the way you clench around him when you cream on him. "like that, like that, shit, fuck me like that," your whimpers only make him thrust harder, his eyes locked on the bounce of your tits with everytime his hips meet yours. every inch of you is intoxicating for him.

"you feel like heaven, baby, god," he grunts out, feeling the way your tight walls squeeze him, practically trapping him there. he keeps it up, free hand lifting to palm at your chest, gently squeezing. he can't help himself, and you can't help but cry out louder. the music of the party is loud enough to mask your sounds anyway, you're sure of it. "this pussy, mmh, could die right here, poundin' your tight cunt, baby."

"uh-huh? yeah?" you coax, feeling your head spin as he hits every spot. his tip hammers into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you cry out with every hard thrust of his hips, and he groans under his breath as you start to clench around him again. "shit, matt, m'gonna cum, i can't, gonna—"

"yeah? yeah? me too, me too, baby, c'mon," he squeezes at your chest once more before his hand slides back down to your thighs, his thrusts only becoming more forceful, making your legs tighten around his waist and inner walls squeeze him even more. "me too, cum for me, cum with me, i got you, that's it, that's my girl," his hips stutter once more, especially when you cream on his cock like that, his blue eye falling instantly to the way your release oozes down him. it soon mixes with his own, a lewd, wet sound squelching out as he pulls out from you a moment after.

his chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, as does yours, recovering from how intense your orgasms were. even then, he feels like he could go again. a million times. maybe after a second, you'd definitely go again too. he's about to go to speak when he hears a call pull up outside, most definitely josh, and your eyes widen, "matt—"

"my place," he tells you, no negotiation in his tone. he wasn't done with you. he doesn't think he'll ever be done with you.

๋࣭ ⭑ taglist / @mattslolita , @st7rnioioss , @flairdean , @mattsluv , @bepositiveforachange , @poetatorturadaa , @onlynextdoor , @sturncakez , @luverboychris , @sirenedeslily , @evrithingbagel , @sl4ttformattsturniolo , @mattsturnihoe , @aphroditepjo , @mazzystar111 , @flouvela , @stonermattsgf , @str4wberryk1ss3s

[adickaboutspoons]

Mostly I was responding to the points raised in @scarrletmoon's response, but you raise some excellent points to which I'd like to respond. Feel free to ignore if you're tired of my bullshit. I completely understand the impulse. 1st, you're absolutely right; I was coming across as gate-keepery by saying that I find Stede's eccentricities charming as though that ought be the default experience. For that I apologize. I ought to have taken more care. When I said "And that's valid, but I would say that those are the parts that the crew and Ed grow to love once they embrace those parts of him instead of cringing at them" what I meant to convey is that the experience of 2nd-hand embarrassment when Stede does something that recalls to the viewer times when they have felt ashamed/were made to feel shame because of something they did is absolutely understandable, but we can take heart in Stede being accepted & loved for those parts of him, & find hope that so too may we be embraced for our own quirks & foibles. My intention was to encourage others to be more gentle with & accepting of their own perceived failings, but I can see now that I failed to adequately express that, & for that I am sorry. I do take issue with the suggestion that I am strawmanning, though; I would argue that how one views Stede's motivation & framing absolutely informs the extent to which/moments in which one finds his behavior cringe-worthy. In your original post, you contend Stede is "pretending to be this macho pirate captain who totally knows what he's doing" & your response above adds he's a bad manager & a jerk because he's praising himself & chiding his employees, whom you interpret as him treating as stand-ins for his own children. If that's how you're framing the scenario, then, sure - I can see how his behavior comes across as cringe to you. But that's not at all how I perceived it. I will grant he is pretending more expertise than he actually possesses, but he IS a pirate captain, & as to the attribution of "macho" I absolutely disagree, specifically because he is textually interested in a form of piracy that is not that. Because that is my understanding of the scene, in the debrief scene I see a person excited at the success of what, if Black Pete is to be believed, is their very 1st raid, & doesn't understand why everyone else wasn't also chuffed. He then listens to Wee John' criticism & encourages him to clarify WHY he feels the way he does. When Wee John identifies the lack of a flag as a contributing factor to his disgruntlement, Stede provides materials so they can rectify the deficit. This isn't Stede forcing arts & crafts on these grown-ass men (& Jim) - it's Stede hearing a problem & supplying the means to a solution. Similarly, he hears out Buttons about the crew's dissatisfaction, & tries to rectify it by finding a more appealing target for a raid, even though he obviously feels unequal to the task himself. To me, that's the complete opposite of a bad manager (to me he's a bad manager when he's being dismissive of the crew's input, like the fuckery brainstorming, & even then he climbs down from his high horse & apologizes. Which? GREAT manager!). Where you see Stede infantilizing his crew, I see them taking part in activities that, while generally relegated to childhood, aren't implicitly childish, & of their own volition, & Stede sowing the seeds that will eventually blossom into a found family (not imposing an established family structure). For clarity, I'm not saying my interpretation is objectively right, nor that yours is wrong. I'm just saying framing is going to influence perception of whether Stede's behavior is Cringe, & that's kind of what I was getting at with my myriad examples of Stede behaving "authentically" or "inauthentically" & when that is a viable predictor of a general fandom perception of when Stede is being Cringe. Because I really don't think it is. This is going to continue in the notes because tumlr thinks they can cut my mic.

listen I love stede a lot - I think he's the bravest character in the show. he changes everyone he meets for the better. he embodies what I think of as the thesis of the show. if he wasn't the way that he is, the show would not be very good, imo.

but in ep one he gives his pirate crew notes on the raid they just did as though they were a community theater troupe and his notes were 1) complimenting his own opening speech as "very inspiring" and 2) complaining that that the crew wasn't sufficiently enthusiastic about robbing two poor fisherman of a single plant.

during the raid his narration went "some men are born to be pirate captains, others learn on the job. me? well I'm a pretty solid mix of both" as though he has any idea what he's doing.

and AFTER the raid Olu has to gently point out to him that piracy isn't a game to the rest of the crew.

There's a reason that Rhys Darby was the only person capable of playing Stede without making him seem like a total dick. And I think that's bc Rhys was able to convey the idea that Stede's behavior in the first few eps is coming out of this deep sense of insecurity - he's doing some Stede-y things (flag making! paying the crew! bedtime stories!) that are great but he's also pretending to be this macho pirate captain who totally knows what he's doing. And it's the pretending that makes people cringe with second hand embarrassment. While also, often, seeing themselves in it and feeling a great deal of sympathy for Stede about it.

The reason Stede is like this is because HE thinks there's something deeply wrong with him, a belief that has been solidified by everyone around him his entire life, and therefore he needs to do everything he can to hide that deeply wrong thing about him. When he unpacks that and embraces the things about himself he originally thought were embarrassing (being weak, pathetic, soft, etc), he can stop pretending. And that's when other characters grow to love him! And so people will sometimes call him cringe because they aspire to be cringe like him, to embrace the parts of themselves that they were punished for and live more authentically.

because he changes! that's the point! he moves from cringe (pretending to be someone he's not) to cringe (being true to himself, always a deeply vulnerable thing to be) and it takes a lot of hard work. that's what makes me LIKE him as a character. that's what I think makes him the bravest character on the show. because he doesn't start out perfect. he's a puppet who grows into a real boy and that means that for a period of time he was a puppet, and that's okay.

[authorhjk1]

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

Sana/Jennie museum threesome

The Roman Goddess (part III)

(Minatozaki Sana X Jennie X Male Reader)

"Stop playing hard to get, Mars."

Venus' mischievous smile makes you lose your mind.

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

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

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

"Y-Your husband is right there."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Venus turns around.

"Oh, hey you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Interesting."

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck happened here?"

You say out loud, starring at the small text.

"Are you okay?"

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

"Yeah, sorry."

You turn back around.

"Is something wrong?"

"Kinda..."

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

"Here."

You point at the description.

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

"And who is that?"

"Well, Venus is this one."

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

"And Freya is basically her Nordic equivalent."

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you a history teacher or something?"

"An author."

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

"Are you famous?"

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

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

You almost have a heart attack.

"W-What?"

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

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

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

You slowly shake your head.

"No... Did she?"

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

She pauses for a moment.

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

"Ah...."

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

"She gave everyone my number and a picture?"

"Yeah."

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

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

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

"I want in."

"What?"

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

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

"Do I have a choice?"

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

"You don't."

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

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

"Shut it."

You're surprised by her rudeness.

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

"S-Sure."

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

You instinctively glance at the description of the figure.

"Freya?"

You see a smile playing around her lips.

"Sounds good."

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

"Zip it. I do what I want."

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

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

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

"There she is."

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

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

"What are you waiting for?"

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

"Kneel for me and make yourself useful."

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

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

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

"That feels good..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What makes you think you're done?"

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

"That's a good boy."

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

"Answer it."

Freya's voice is laced with mischievous intent.

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

"Hello?"

"Are you hiding from me?"

"I'm-"

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

"I'm not."

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

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

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

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

"I don't-"

"It's gonna be quick."

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

"I'll reward you."

Seems like Venus took your silence as indecisiveness.

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

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

"Is there anything you would prefer me in?"

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

"A specific dress? Lingerie? Nothing?"

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

"Yes, that feels good."

Her moan is way louder than all the other ones.

"Mars, what's going on?"

You realize that she did it on purpose.

Freya now reaches for your phone.

"Keep going."

She takes and places it on her ear.

"Hello, darling?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, fuck!"

Once she calms down, Freya speaks again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like me, don't you?"

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

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

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

"Maybe we should start without her."

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

"Come on. Make everyone watch."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck, right there."

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

"The two of you started without me?"

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

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

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

Venus breaks the kiss and whispers into your ear.

"Make sure your cum belongs to me."

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

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

"Can't take your hands off me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, yes. Fill me up."

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

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

"Fuck, yes."

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

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

"You still haven't answered my question."

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

"How would you like me tonight?"

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

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

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

"Heels and a choker."

Freya lets out a chuckle.

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

"I'll be there at 10."

[terrestrialnoob]

Continuation from Part 1

Jazz took a deep breath. It's going to be fine. She can be normal for one night. Even if Harley is willing to befriend weirdos on a whim she doubted anyone else would. The shadow beneath her feed rolled like boiling tar and emotions that weren't hers poked at her mind.

"It's okay, Jet. They're not going to hurt me. I'm just... nervous."

She took another deep breath, she'd been told to ignore the closed sign, and entered the Coal Mine. She wasn't sure what she was expecting with a name like that, but it looked like a normal, if kinda rustic bar. It was empty except for a blonde woman in the back of the room, setting up a big table with food and drinks.

"Sorry, we're closed to the pub-" She started speaking before she looked up, stopping once she saw Jazz. "Oh! You must be Jazz, Harley's new friend.... You're early."

Jazz's face turned a little red but she stomped down her unease. "Yep! That's me. Early bird Jazz."

The blonde woman laughed wholeheartedly, but Jazz didn't think her joke was that funny. The woman walked over to her, "I'm Dinah, welcome to my bar. I don't often host girls night, but you got lucky."

Jazz shook her offered hand. "It's a nice place!" Though, Jazz didn't really go to bars. She didn't drink a lot and bars weren't really her scene.

"Feel free to grab a snack, grab a drink. I'm going to finish getting ready. Everyone else tends to be late. Which I guess means you're not early, you're here when we asked you."

"Oh, alright! I'll remember to be late next time." Why did she say that? That's so stupid and rude.... But Dinah laughed again. "Right, um, if it's okay, I did bring something." Jazz offered the plastic bag she decided to reuse with a tray of fudge she made inside it.

"Oh, that looks good. I'll go get a knife and plate to set it out with the other snacks."

Jazz more or less sat in awkward silence as Dinah did her thing getting ready. She wanted to offer to help, but this is Dinah's bar. If anyone else was there, Jazz wouldn't feel the need to help, and she didn't want to get in the way. But this was a private party, so maybe Jazz should offer to help. Just to carry stuff to the table or-

Then the door opened again and two women came through. One was in an expensive looking leather jacket and with short brown hair and the other had a cheap looking leather jacket with long brown hair. The short haired woman started talking before she was even all the way through the door. "Dinah, you would not believe how bad traffic is downtown today. An entire hour to get from 19th to- oh, hello."

Jazz jumped to her feet when the woman addressed her. "Hi, I'm Jazz."

"Selina." She said with a raised eyebrow.

"Harley invited her." The long haired woman said. "You really should read the texts."

"I don't want to set a precedent."

"Still." The long haired woman nodded towards Jazz. "Name's Helena."

"It's nice to meet you." Jazz said with a smile, but it started to slip at the sight of Selina.

Selina gave her a hard look, sizing her up, judging. "You're Harley's friend?"

Jazz rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "She's been to my apartment... and invited me here."

There was a beat of silence before Selina gave an amused huff and said, "You do seem like her type."

Dinah laughed again - maybe she was just easy to make laugh. The two walked over to the table and Selina's eyes immediately settled on the fudge. She opened her mouth to comment but the door opened again and Harley burst through, pulling someone behind her.

"We're here! I even got a special something for- Jazz! You're here already!" She turned to the woman behind her and quickly pushed something into her hands before rounding back to the rest in the room. "Heya Jazzy! I'm happy you could make it! This is my wife - Ivy."

Ivy stepped forward and eyed Jazz with more curiosity than the suspicion Selina had or Helena's indifference or Dinah's more welcoming demeanor. "It's nice to meet you. Harley told me about her little visit to your home. You look... normal."

Jazz knew her face was even redder than before. "Well, normal is the goal, right?"

There was a beat when the other's in the room just seemed to stare at her. Harley barked out her own harsh laughter, "Not here it ain't!"

"O-oh..." Jazz didn't have a frame of reference for this. If normal wasn't what they wanted, then what did they want? Eccentric scientist like her parents? Harley was a vigilante, maybe that's what she should emulate?

"Don't worry." Ivy said as she passed Jazz to sit at the table, a potted plant on a nearby windowsill suddenly, and far too quickly, bloomed. "From what I've heard, I'm sure you'll fit in."

"Harley said that too. I'm just worried. I've never had my own friends before." Oh, shit, she shouldn't have said that. Only weirdos don't have friends.

"Same." Ivy said and picked up a piece of Jazz's fudge.

"Here too." Helena added, and gave the piece of fudge she'd been holding for a while a curious look. It must be unusual for everyone to react this way.

"IS THAT FUDGE? I love fudge!" Harley said and grabbed a handful to stuff in her mouth. "This is so good! Where'd it come from?"

"Oh. I made it. Didn't want to come empty handed, you know." Jazz said, joining the other's at the table and taking her own piece before Harley ate it all. "It's my mom's recipe, but it doesn't quite taste the same without the low-level radiation."

"Oh, you have to put the radiation in it next time!"

"Do not do that." Three other women at the table said in almost unison. Oddly enough, it was Helena who didn't join in.

"Why was there radiation in your mother's fudge?" Selina asked as Dinah started to deal out cards.

"My parents are kinda mad scientists - kinda also mad occultists. All the food in the house was contaminated, and part of the reason my brother and I are vegetarian." Jack and three.

Dinah seemed to loose her breath before wheezing out, "Even more the same."

"What?"

"I'm also a vegetarian, mainly because of the environmental nightmare farming is." Ivy supplied, she bet conservatively.

"Right, that's why my brother's friend is vegan."

"Wait, how does the contamination equate to being vegetarian?" Helena asked - getting excited as Dinah reveals the flop, a good hand then. "Did it make meat taste bad or...?

"Oh, it brought it to life." Jazz said as she traded a card. "I can't tell you how many reanimated headless turkeys and chickens I had to kill. Not to mention the hotdogs Dad trained to attack intruders, they also attacked friends and visitors too. That was too much, even for Spike."

"Holy shit, that's amazing." Harley said while Ivy and Selina looked horrified, Dinah was as entertained as Harley, and Helena was enjoying herself. "Can't say I've ever fought reanimated deli meats."

"Bruce has." Selina commented, and directed at Jazz, "My long-term boyfriend. Thought about marrying him for a little while, but it didn't really suit either of our lifestyles."

No animosity, only relief. Jazz smiled at her, "Different people have different needs. Not everyone needs to be married with children."

Dinah laughed, "And boy, does Bruce have children! How many does he have now? Six? Seven? I thought I read on the news he's got a new one."

"Technically yes, but he's just fostering Duke, not adopting. Once his parents are well again, he'll want to go home." Selina saw Jazz's curious face, but deflected to lighter gossip. "I'm not the motherly type, not that I'd be cruel to any kids I could possibly have especially if they're Bruce's-" She sighed "-but Bruce lives for his kids. He has four adopted children, one biological child from another woman - it's fine, we both have our fun - and two foster children.... I think."

"You're not sure?" Helena questioned. Dinah put out another card.

"I think Steph is a foster, but I never saw the paperwork for it. At the very least, she's living in his house." Selina said, then stared at Ivy. "Not getting lucky, dear?"

Ivy sneered and put her cards down. "I don't even know why I agree to this game."

"Is it the one game all night, or do you do other stuff?" Jazz asked. She's good at poker. Between her enhanced empathy and psychology degree, she was rarely fooled.

"Depends on the place. Dinah likes poker, so we play it when she hosts." Helena said, she looked at Jazz, then Harley and folded her cards. "And we quit when Harley wins all our money and play something else."

"That's right baby!" Harley cheered and slammed her cards face up on the table, "No one beats the Harley!"

Jazz and Selina put their cards down too, face up.

"I guess there are exceptions..." Harley said with a mischievous grin.

Selina grinned too, "Someone has to loose all of Bruce's money."

Jazz grinned as the pot was pushed her direction. "Well, then let me know when it gets boring of just me and Harley playing."

The entire table laughed. Yeah, Jazz was starting to feel like she really would fit in here.

[bunny-jpeg]

trappin' (price's version)

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, baby trapping & pregnancy, dumb!reader, mafia don!price, rich!price, burly & hairy!price, tattoos, age gap (20s/40s)

bunny says: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! i have a few ideas in my head about maybe a simon version or a konig version! (please leave your suggestions!!!)

this was going to be so painfully easy. when you saw which shelf the older man ordered from, you saw dollar signs in your eyes. so with the front zipper of your dress pulled down a little to show off the 'goods', you went over to him at the bar.

you were flirty and sweet. your hand on his bicep, you didn't realize the toned muscles of his arms. oh, he was more than just a rich older man.

"well, aren't you just a sweet thing." he rubbed the top of your head. he said his name, "john price, love." like you should've known it. so you simply nodded when he told you it, and you gave your own name.

"how about we get out of here?" you asked with a cute smile, "i'm not really the best at bars, sadly." then dropped the smile into a small pout.

he hung over you like a shadow as he cupped your face, "aw, someone scared?"

you nodded, giving him the most innocent look, "can i go home with you tonight, mister price?" you saw his expression soften at the question. hook, line & sinker.

you had poked holes in the condom. happy to hand it over under the guise of you needing to 'protect' yourself. as if it didn't look like a strainer with all the holes in it.

price watched you get undressed slowly. he eyed you with a predator's gaze as he undid his tie and took off the jacket of his suit. price looked and smelled expensive, it would be perfect little paycheck. your thoughts were filled with stacks of sterling pounds, that you didn't even catch that price noticed the holes in the condom and chuckled.

silly girl, he thought. he knew exactly what you were doing. you weren't the first person to try and squeeze money out of him via a little price brat. but price got hard at the idea of such a gorgeous, conniving woman would fail so beautifully.

he did need a wife after all, and the ones the family were trying to pair him with were simply so boring. you, on the other hand, were a little firecracker who knew what she wanted. but as he pressed you into the bed, his lips on the back of your neck as he rubbed his cock up against his ass. he knew that he needed a ring on you fast.

"mmm, that feels good." he said, "see how hard ya made me, love?"

you'd do just fine as mrs. price. don't worry your little head though, you weren't going to get involved with the family business. just make sure that you make price lunch before he heads to the office and tuck the kids into bed before he comes home.

your stomach did somersaults when you felt the pressure of his tattooed hand against your throat. you saw all of his tattoos on his hairy body when he undressed. you had no idea what they represented, while the one of the dagger was a little more obvious (not to you), even the "gentler" ones, like the flag of his hometown on his shoulder or 141 on his collarbone painted a grim story of price's past.

you should've not poked those holes in that condom. silly girl.

he pushed you deep into the pillows of his hotel room. he had you bent at an awkward angle and polluted all of your space. leaving you little room to breathe as he sank his cock into your waiting hole.

price was a bad man, you should've ran when you had the chance. because when he got his cock wet in you, he felt a sense of euphoria that he never had with any other slag he had been with. you were different, it was like the heavens had opened and given him a gift.

a pretty young thing with a need to be bred.

oh yeah, he was keeping you. there were no questions asked. one hand on your throat, the other on your hip as he thrusted into you. he knew, he knew right then that you weren't getting too far after tonight. maybe he'd let you slip out think you got what you wanted, but that was all just to add a little fun to your game.

thinking that you were the top dog in this, but you were just a scrappy little thing. nothing like the pitbull that price was. he didn't manage an entire mafia family without getting a little... tough. and you may go back to your crummy little flat and wait anxiously for the pregnancy test to come back positive.

but come the end of tomorrow, he'd already know everything he needed to know about you. from where you lived and went to school to how many moles were on your back. hell, even if you were ovulating to begin with.

he pressed your head further into the bed and thrusted into you. your ass shook with each heavy stroke of his cock inside of you. and don't worry, if it doesn't take this time. there's always next time, and the time after, and the time after that.

ah, you silly little thing. this wasn't a one night stand. this was price prepping you for being his wife. you thought you were getting away with one kid? one kid in his world is rookie numbers, you'll be having your hands full for a good while.

he continued to rut into you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. with each one you became some soft for him, you harsh moans because soft little mewls as each orgasm hit.

"such a good girl. aren't i lucky to have found ya." he got both hands on his hips and he battered your womb with his impressive size. he was big and hairy all over, covered in tattoos and an accent that melted your brain.

you fit him like a glove, it was a sign you two were meant to be together! he was still fucking you with the stamina of someone closer to your age, meanwhile you were laid out under him with your eyes barely open. poor girl's gone and got her brains fucked out for the night.

that was alright, meant that price could dump a few loads into you before you came to again. he'd of course never hurt you, not in that way. but you were the temptress that led him back to his room, he was just reaping his reward.

he panted against your ear, the filth in his words made your pussy clench around his aching cock. all it took was two little cells to mix together and you'd be a proper mama.

don't worry, price hasn't ruined all of his swimmers over the years.

with a few more thrusts, price found heaven. he shot his seed into your pussy. spat it right up against your womb, a promise of what was to come.

"john." you said with a loose tongue.

"didn't finish yet." he lied, "almost there. you just lie there for me, alright? i'll take good care of ya, baby girl."

he didn't even bother to pull out as he got you on your back. he wanted to see that blissed out expression while he put your knees to your ears and your puffy, wet cunt on display.

a proper mating press for the silly little girl who thought she was going to pull the rug out from under mister jonathan price.

-

you rubbed your lower back and huffed. you were only in your fifth month, but the baby was expected to be rather big. you couldn't complain only a fool would climb the mountain that was john price.

one of the most dangerous men in london.

what started out as a ploy to get enough money to pay for university ended with you dropping out to be price's full-time housewife. with the rock, the house and the baby to prove it. this was your second pregnancy in three years, with your daughter happily sitting in her high chair. her father sitting by her, keeping her busy while you cooked.

one of his tattooed fingers pointed to the pictures in the children's book he had open for her. he was determined to make sure that she could read a little bit before she went off to school in another two years.

"see that's a cow, baby girl." he said, "like the ones we see when we go drivin'." he was very attentive for a man who had snuffed the life out of people with his bare hands.

but he'd never hard a hair on you, your daughter or your future son's heads. he could barely be rough with you during sex nowadays!

it was summertime once more, the heat of july rolled through the old house you called him. you had kept the dress that caused this marriage and family, but with the mama chub on your hips you weren't fitting into it again anytime soon.

but price didn't mind, a good mother like you shouldn't be showing off what is his anyway. <3

[pomefioredove]

Hello! I hope you feel better soon :) remember to drink lots of water!!

Could I request a one-shot with Idia, where reader brings him a meal they cooked themselves since he hasn't had much to eat in the past few days? (Sorry if this is too vague I've just been having thoughts of taking care of Idia)

no this is perfect! <3 actually just what I needed to write rn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ you have that effect on him

type of post: fic characters: idia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, food, mentions of eating and not eating, depression👍, actually cute, reader is not there much sorry,,,

One breath in. One breath out.

Idia has been counting the snicks and scorches on the ceiling all weekend.

They're mostly his. Haywire robots and Ortho mishaps, which he always takes the blame for. One dark smudge is from his shoe, when there was a bug on the ceiling and his brother was out of the room.

Each like a star in his own sky, memories of the days he could get out of bed.

This is not one of them.

Nor was yesterday. Or the day before that.

Just one of those weeks.

One breath in, one breath out. Idia feels painfully aware of the rise and fall of his chest.

He'd sent Ortho on some pointless sidequest for the day. He needed to be alone- well, not really. He just didn't want his brother to worry about him.

He gives up sleep, and lies on his side instead, opening his phone to doomscroll again. The harsh blue light makes his eyes water in the dark of his room.

It feels like he's been locked in an unskippable cutscene all week.

What would you think of him if you could see him now?

He doesn't want to picture it. Idia feels pathetic enough as a cringey, awkward, social reject, even if you like him that way.

There's no going up. When he hits rock bottom, he starts digging.

Knock.

Idia cringes at the sound. He was hoping to be asleep before Ortho came back.

Knock, knock.

"Come in,"

But he doesn't. Idia finally looks up, at the door. Ortho will give the compulsory three knocks, then wait for a verbal command, and then come in. He was programmed that way. He usually talks, too.

But, nothing.

Not Ortho, then.

Idia cozies himself back up in bed, dressing himself in blankets as if they were... well, a shroud.

Another hour goes by. At nine PM sharp, Ortho's melodious knocks, his happy chiming, and the light from the hall follow.

"Find that thing?" Idia asks. He can't even remember what he asked Ortho to get.

"Yep! And guess what! You have a present!"

Psh. Wut? Idia looks up from his phone.

Ortho hovers to the edge of the bed and hands Idia something lukewarm, in a covered glass dish.

"Whatsit?"

His brother giggles. "Can't you guess? You don't even need a scanner for it!"

Idia can't help but crack a smile at that, and he slowly sits up. He peels off the lid of the dish. It's soup.

"Did you make this?" he asks, inspecting the lukewarm dish.

Ortho gives a negative chime. "It was by your door when I returned. Would you like me to heat it up for you?"

"Uh..." Idia hums. "...Yeah. That'd be good."

Within a few minutes, it's back in his lap, hot again. Idia cautiously takes a bite. It's rich, filling, and good, clearly homemade. Not some cheap junk out of a can. One spoonful is more filling than any of the garbage he'd eaten in the past week.

"Your hormonal levels and body language indicate that it's satisfactory. Do you know who left it?" Ortho asks.

Idia shrugs. "Someone came by earlier, but I didn't get the door. Who'd leave me a home cooked meal, anyway?"

He eats some more. It's hard not to enjoy himself, if only a little.

"Well..." Ortho says. "...I may have mentioned to the Prefect that you've been unwell."

Idia almost does a spit-take. "WHAT?! WHA- WH?! This is- th-"

"Calm, Idy! I just said you weren't feeling well! They must have thought you were sick!"

He almost collapses on his bed. His hands are shaking. How humiliating. And he already looked lame enough as it was.

One breath in, one breath out.

"They came all the way out here..." he mutters, stirring the soup around the dish.

"They must really care about you, Idy!"

Idia's face goes bright red. "Don't say it like that..." he mumbles.

But he'd be lying if he wasn't secretly hoping that was true. The thought of you having made something like this just because he felt bad... well... it's a nice one.

You care.

Idia makes a mental note to send you a DM later. As thanks. And to ask if you have any soup left. It's pretty good...

Maybe the promise of you coming over will motivate him to get out of bed.

You have that effect on him.