#so don't internalize it as a fact about me or bring it up to me in the future thank u lol

[eatmangoesnekkid]

THE WOMB REQUIRES US TO LIVE NON-VIOLENTLY Most of what I see going on with those of us with wombs is that we are still looking at the world as 15 year old girls. We are looking at the world through old timelines, archaic imprints or predictive religious programming. The latter is lovely if you are religious, but most of us are unconscious that what we actually believe is true has been adopted from religious teachings taught by people who are no longer alive. Women have been taught to assume that anything related to their arousal is about sex and men because we don't have the proper perspective on how our female bodies truly operate. These deep foundational misalignments are subtle forms of violence internalized from patriarchy that hold us back from thriving in our magical female bodies in this 3D reality, elevating our consciousness and mitochondria, regenerating our cells, and transforming this world into the brighter—other women, men, children, all people, nature, and the like. It is your birthright to have ease, to feel safe, and experience heaven on earth. But so many women are doing the same thing year after year, lifetime after lifetime, and do not do anything differently in a radical way in order to create a new imprint. We must go deeper into what it is actually required in order to come fully alive in our bodies and transform our health, lives and this world's reflection. Principles, values, and rituals are essential and I will share an example of one of mine. Before I fly, I stretch a few times a day and fast on juices, water, and teas a week before to raise the quality of my light body, that internal halo, the mystical sacred lubrication which I know has contributed to me having beautiful easeful travel experiences. And what would register to another person as “annoying” or “messed up” resonates to my tissues as gratitude or a blessing. When your divine energy is flowing, you naturally integrate well into a new climate and culture and won't have to worry about getting sick so easily. I also pack early so that my tissues can be relaxed and thereby energy flowing even more. I cover my head with fabric or a divinely prayed over ribbon or scarf before boarding the flight. I stretch during long flights to keep my energy flowing. In other words, I am mindful not to live in my body violently-rushing here and there, staying up late, and packing at the last second. All the qualities and actions that make us come fully alive in our bodies and be more naturally radiant and beautiful have been dismissed and downgraded for the quick, fast, and convenient. The rise of health issues in the female line is devastating. What we have done to the female body is a tragedy and we have have to be better, less violent to ourselves by moving lower, taking our time, and being gentle with the discomfort that comes up as the universe catches up to our new frequency and brings more harmony. We need real philosophies, belief systems, and practical actions that actually work for our bodies and not against them. I mentioned recently how "lubrication" is my #1 core value. I didn't say that for giggles; I really meant that! I am deeply feminine woman but I'm also a strategist who knows that the female body works most magically and optimally when our energy is flowing -which naturally means that our tissues will be lubricated. Lubrication, libido, or the flow of fluids are certainly more than about sex, as lovely as sex can be. First and foremost, they are about strength, health, wellness, longevity, and mental clarity. How can you be a little more attention to your body? What are your core values? What are your principles for living in your body? What violent belief systems do you need to let go of? As we continue to wake up to the fact that the world is not what we've been programmed to believe it to be and the divine feminine continues to break through the ashes, messages like what I am saying will become more popular and less radical and jarring. If you are reading this, you are already ahead of the game.-India Ame'ye, Author

Tumblr won't let me edit post but should read: "Women are generally exhausted and bored which is why constantly consuming/taking information and shopping all the time is so attractive. The qualities and actions that make us fully alive in our bodies and more naturally radiant and beautiful have been dismissed and downgraded for the quick, fast, popular or convenient. "

[theguyinthemathexamples]

Guns and... Aeons?

May Aventurine grant his luck upon everyone's Boothill pulls!!!

— C/W : spoilers?, set at the end of the 2.2 quest, boothill is boothill ft. argenti, i forgot what his lore is so take anything i say with a grain of salt, LOTS of yapping, guns and roses sneak, very self-indulgent :3

Boothill never really had much faith in Aeons, much less worshipped any. He already lost it all when he gained the information, that darned rain of fire that destroyed everything, was deployed by a zealot.

Don't get him wrong, he still knew they existed. But he internally wished that maybe, if any Aeon took pity on him on that day, maybe he could have changed the outcome of it all.

Well, that was all in the past now. He'd be a rusted out piece of metal by now if he let himself wallow in bygone events.

A low sigh didn't fail to make itself known, inadvertently catching the attention of the knight just at the other end of the room. Boothill even forgot he was there due to how quiet he was.

"A rose for your thoughts, friend?" The knight inquired, sitting at the other end of the couch. He nearly jumped at the sudden question but was just as quick to regain his composure.

"Nothin' much, just thinkin' and all," he replied, only tilting his head to look at this eccentric friend of his.

Ironic that Argenti was a man quite devoted to an Aeon, especially to a long deceased one, when Boothill was borderline detesting a good amount of them.

"This dadgum pull I've been feelin'... D'you know somethin' about it, knight?"

It was something he'd been feeling for a while now but it's been getting stronger as of late. And the voices... He'll leave those out till Argenti mentions something about it.

To put it frankly, he was worried. Quite more so if nothing else.

"Does it make you feel like wanting to visit the Astral Express, friend?" Argenti inquired shortly after,

Boothill simply nodded, curious as to how this Knight of Beauty knew of such. Sensing his curiosity, said knight certainly wouldn't mind going into the further details.

In fact, he was more than enthusiastic to do so.

"As Idrila's reason to have ascended into Aeonhood, it is only natural that I give high praises to the Aeon of Creation for such magnificence— that THEIR creations have inspired my Goddess to reach THEIR most pinnacle potential."

If this was how he talked about his Aeon and this... well, other Aeon, the two would be here till his batteries run out. And he was just about done recharging to full a few hours ago.

It wasn't till a good amount of minutes into the topic that Boothill kinda got a little impatient. No offense to Argenti, of course.

"And it wasn't till recently that their wondrous consciousness graced the unive—"

"Alright, alright, I get it, knight. Don't mean to offend ya, but can ya get straight to why I felt the pull earlier?" Boothill interjected, looking straight at his companion,

He swore that the way this man shone brightened up even more.

"My apologies if I overwhelmed you, dear friend," Argenti said, giving the cowboy an apologetic bow while he was sitting.

"Simply put, this pull you feel is but the manifestations of the Aeon of Creation! Perhaps your brilliant self captured THEIR attention when you were conversing with the Trailblazer," he continued, yapping up another storm as Boothill thought to himself.

"Seriously? This ol' hunk of metal? Catchin' an Aeon's attention? Colour me fudgin' surprised."

"Ah, this is certainly a moment worth celebrating, don't you think so, friend?" Argenti's voice spoke out, bringing his attention back to the knight.

Yet, before this interstellar cyborg cowboy could even agree or otherwise, a black envelope materialized in front of him, the edges lined with red and gold designs.

One surprise after another, huh?

The knight was quick to encourage him to open it up, taking out a letter opener from who knows where. Well now he's starting to get excited.

A golden Star Rail Pass was the first to get taken out of it, its colour shining in the midst of the room's lights. Next was a neatly folded paper that was probably penned by the Astral Express' Conductor. (Somehow; I mean, look at their itty bitty hands) It reads as follows:

—————————✧—————————

Hello, future Astral Express member, Boothill! This letter has been written by Pom-pom to formally invite you to join the Trailblaze.

By all means, this doesn't mean that you should abandon your faith for any Aeon(s) you may believe in, so long as it doesn't prohibit the other members of the Astral Express from going about their days.

As you may have guessed, yes, the golden ticket provided inside is a very formal way for Pom-pom to ask you to join us, as well as a sign that the Aeon of Creation has taken a liking to you!

To compensate for any forms of distress or trouble their consciousness has caused you, the Astral Express will be willing to offer a living space, electricity, wifi, food, water(gasoline?), as well as any other necessities and wants you may have.

Though if you truly want to seek trouble with the IPC, as the Aeon commented, please leave the Astral Express out of association for any crime you may commit in the future.

If you're ready to take on this journey with the Nameless, as well as many others, please use the ticket once the thought of doing so so much as suggests the notion.

• P.S. : Unfortunately, you don't have much time to mull it over, much less get another letter in this envelope to choose who to cover for you instead.

• The Aeon of Creation awaits your presence. •

—————————✧—————————

As Argenti finished reading the letter aloud, the expectant lilt on his face that he looks at Boothill with catches his attention the most.

"I nearly forgot to mention, dear friend, as a faithful believer of this Aeon, one can assure you that THEY don't mean any harm," he spoke, a smile gracing his lips as he continued. "The blessings THEY give to ones that they favour are quite abundant, and your captivating self truly made its impact on THEM."

"Even THEY couldn't help but praise you endlessly for your courage and demeanor!" Argenti proclaimed, almost making the cowboy in front of him want to tune him out again. ... That last part was a lie.

With a reluctant sigh, finally agreeing with the knight, the golden Star Rail Pass and the envelope in hand, Boothill stood up from his seat and went over to exit his friend's ship— to which Argenti quickly stopped him, hand outstretched for him.

"Need me to lead you there, friend?" He asks, head tilting to his left as his eyes brightened up with that usual glow.

"... Yeah, sure. Ya won't stop botherin' this ol' piece of metal to give ya updates if I said otherwise," Boothill laughed at the end of his reply, taking the knight's hand and letting him lead the way.

Maybe making a decision with a third party beside him won't be so bad.

Note : ong this took WAY TOO LONGGGGG TO MAKEEEEEEE 😭😭

My most sincere apologies to anyone whose patience ran out while waiting for this fic to come out 💔

BUT IT'S OUT NOW SO REJOICE EVERYONE ‼️‼️

Anyways, have a lovely day to all of you !! (disappears for another month)

And yes dw my interp of sahsr/sahsrau will come out maybe around late june once my recognition finally comes to pass

[havendance]

Okay, I've read up to before the Night of the Owls crossover, so let's take a moment to look at my New 52 read so far:

Batman -- I think I liked the start of this arc the most, when it's laying out the mystery and feels full of potential. I'm just not a fan of the court of owls. The issue where he was in the labrinth and all the pages got flipped around was a cool concept, but an absolute pain to read digitally. Whenever I tried to rotate my tablet to read the textboxes, my device would go 'oh you're rotating! I know how to do that!' and flip the pages back -_- It probably worked better physically.

Batman and Robin -- I liked this. I liked seeing as Bruce tried to negotiate his relationship with Damian and I liked Nobody as an antagonist drawing on the history of the people who trained Batman.

Nightwing -- I started reading this and I was like 'yes, this is what a reboot should do. Bring back Haly's Circus after it was stupidly burned down previously.' and what does this comic do? Burn down Haly's Circus again!!! Can't have shit in Nightwing comics :/

Anyway, I loved seeing Nightwing try and negotiate his relationships as Nightwing as opposed to his friendships he made at the circus. I liked the push and pull between him and Babs and him and Raya. I think, in this universe where Dick was way older when he became Robin, it works really well, and while I obviously prefer Dick being like 8, I would say that this works well as it's own thing if it weren't for the elephant in the tent-- Haly's Circus being evil (boooooooooo!)

Like I said, can't have shit in Nightwing comics :|

I don't want Haly's Circus to be evil. I don't want them to be working for the court. If you really want the whole Nightwing was raised to be a living weapon thing, then idk, make it something none of them knew about, like some outsider that had been infiltrating and using the circus for their own ends. Don't have Mr Haly be the guy selling dick/that other guy out :(

Birds of Prey -- In contrast to Nightwing, this comic is just extremely mediocre. It's almost impressive how mid it is. I like Saiz' art but I'm struggling to find much else positive to say about it. It's fine. It gets the job done. It's missing that spark to do anything more interesting than girl team fights bad guys. On that same token, I'm having trouble coming up with much to criticize either. Like, obviously I think it would be better if Birds of Prey were still Oracles team, but like, other than the fact that I still think Katana's off (but I haven't read enough of her comics to articulate more), it's hard to find much to complain other than it's just mediocre and boring. Nightwing has high highs and low lows. This is like a flat line.

Batgirl -- I miss Oracle :'( But more seriously, Barbara Gordon as Batgirl has never been as intersting to me as her as Oracle. I liked the subplot of her trying to figure out how to have a new relationship with her mom--it was probably my favorite part and I liked seeing that new aspect of her. That being said, ugh, James Gordon Jr. I just do not like him as a character. He's too grim dark edgy for my tastes.

Another thing that goes into the 'I miss Oracle' category is her new dynamic with Bruce. She's over here caring about his opinion and everything and that's part of her getting aged down yet again, but also I miss when they were antagonistic and she didn't take his shit. As well as the whole question of 'why do we need to keep the killing joke in the first place?' You're rebooting the universe. Why do you need to rub taking Oracle away in our faces like this when you could've just had her never be shot. Though, I do appreciate how Simone is handling the internal conflict that Barbara is experiencing as a result of all of that.

[childofthewolvess]

Becoming open and loud about being a pagan & witch is scary. But what makes that any different than a Christian being open and loud about their faith?

This is for any pagan, witch, or practitioner that may be in a similar situation as me; where it is perfectly safe to be loud and proud about identity and religion, but for some reason, the fear of being judged still lingers.

I am participating in ancient practices that long pre-dated Christianity, my morality and purpose is centered around my religion. It's very important to me. It connects to every part of my being, and I've been dedicating my life to nature itself for years upon years. Though I constantly reassure myself I am definitely not the only pagan in the world, nor my country, and definitely not my state, I sometimes feel as if others view me as "crazy" or "delusional" when they hear about my faith. There is stigma that comes with saying you're a witch; perhaps it is because I grew up in a military culture where I was surrounded by the normalcy of Christianity, or it's internalized fear of judgement since I'm a tour guide and my salary is reliant on how I am perceived by the public eye.

06/02/2024: Gratitude and Faith

Yesterday, on my tour, I listened to the two sweetest ladies talk about how thankful they were for the Christian God & Jesus (capitalized out of respect for their religion). These two women were in tears looking at the beauty of nature and speaking on how grateful they were to experience God's gift. They talked to me about one of their grandsons, who was a priest who dedicated himself to "our lord and savior Jesus Christ." They were so proud of him and his dedication to the Divine. They talked about guardian angels and how they must've been blessed today, with all the amazing wildlife we'd seen on the tour. I smiled. It was wonderful hearing how proud they were of their faith.

I paused underneath a pine overshadowing my van while my tour was exploring by themselves. I thanked my deities, especially Apollo, for healing my sore throat to allow me to storytell on my tour, and Loki, for the beautiful chaos of nature itself. I thanked Ares for his strength to get through the 10 hour day while struggling with my disability, and Aphrodite for her beauty and charm that allows us all to express our love toward the beauty of the mountains. I thanked my familiars for being my guiding light my whole life, for running alongside me and teaching me the way of the wolf, for dancing through my storytelling and protecting me.

In that moment, I realized it: we're not all that different. Those two ladies, thanking their God and angels, are not at all different than me, thanking my gods and guides. In fact, the only difference itself is the system we each believe in, but somehow, across both drastically different religions, we equally found gratitude for the mystical speaking through the natural beauty of the physical world.

It gave me hope.

If these two ladies, living by God and Jesus's word their whole life, didn't receive a blink of an eye at their deep gratitude toward their faith, then neither should I. Why should I worry about being open about my identity as a pagan, when I don't blink an eye myself at another person's dedication and faith? What makes me, as a witch, "crazier" or "delusional"?

And that's just it: nothing does. It's a stigma existing within myself and within society to fear others that are unlike us. An instinct. As humans, the unfamiliar and mysterious frightens us; including the beliefs of our fellow humans, because if we don't believe what they believe, what is to say that our or their belief is wrong? But that's just it: there is, and never has been, a wrong and right in religion.

It all boils down to gratitude and happiness. If you are happy and content with your faith, then why hide? Why hide, when it is safe to express your love for your religion, when it brings joy to your life and possibly others?

That's just it. You don't hide, if you don't need to.

I decided yesterday, I won't hide anymore. There is nothing for me to fear but the judgement of others, and the only judgement that matters in my life is my own. I will be loud, I will be strong, and though I don't feel the need to convert others to my religion, there is something special about explaining how my faith brings joy into my life and shapes my moral trajectory. There is nothing wrong with expressing it. I would never judge another person for finding beauty in their religion and gratitude amongst their faith. So I won't fear myself finding beauty in my religion and gratitude amongst my faith.

[shinyshade8026]

Hunting Issues

S is killing worker drones when suddenly, their tail gets caught in one. They can't get the body off and need to get some outside help, much to their own shame. (S gay panics the entire time)

Warning! There are Murder Drones typical worker drone deaths, a little violent.

All was peaceful on Copper-9, a thick blanket of snow over the ground and the smooth howling of wind. A group of worker drones were messing with something, numb to their surroundings. What a perfect opportunity for any drone with murderous intent! Gliding through the sky came S, its wings cutting through the snowflakes. They land silently in the snow, grinning a sharp grin as their visor displays a blue-teal cross. They giggle lightly as they scan the worker drones. Only five drones, this would be so easy.. Serial designation S slid open their tail with a small mechanical click which caught a blue-eyed drone's attention. His eyes hollowed as he opened his mouth to warn his friends but S shot a bullet clean through his robotic head. The four others whirl to them instantly, fear creeping into their systems immediately. S tackled one to the ground, their tail stabbing another in the side making its systems freeze up. They cackled evilly, killing the one underneath them with a clean bite to the neck and cutting the frozen one in two with their claws. S then plunges a blade into another's head and then starts to go after the last one...

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!" The worker drone cursed, running and stumbling through the snow. Its movements seemed sticky, like it had been jammed up by something.

"I've got you now!" S says with a sweet tone before stabbing their tail directly through the drone's body. It goes through, entirely, leaving the body at the base of their spade-shaped point. But when S tried to shake it off, it wouldn't move. S looked confused, flailing their tail to get it off, but it wouldn't budge. It hissed bringing their tail to themself to try and pull it off, but the odd angle aided them none.

They flail their tail around, hissing angrily and spinning slightly to try and get it off. They left score marks in the snow from their whirling, spinning, and flailing. They even tried slamming it into the ground, but that did nothing. S groans in frustration, before spotting an odd substance on the worker's body and clothes. They touch it, and their finger gets stuck for a second before they yank it back. They flail their tail more, and from an outside view, they look like a big cat in distress.

"Aw~ Need some help?" Came a familiar voice and tone.

S shoots up, eyes wide as they stare at the source. It was V, the last drone in the whole universe that they wanted to see right now. S blushes in embarrassment, hiding their face. "I got it, V," They mumble, slamming their tail into a wall to no avail. 

"I don't think you do," The female disassembly drone lands, her hands on her hips as she looks at S in disapproval. "How did you even get like this?"

S groans in pure embarrassment. "I stabbed my tail too far through the body and now my spade is preventing it from coming off. So yeah... My tail is stuck."

V laughs at S's situation, crossing her arms. "Want some help with getting it off?" S reluctantly nods, mumbling to itself as V grows closer. They brought their tail to V, whose eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out what the hell to do. She brought out her claws and started to cut at the worker drone, while S sat with their hands over their face. It screamed internally with gay panic due to the proximity of V. 

After a bit of cutting and pulling, V managed to get the body off of S's tail. She happily drank the oil from this one as S gathered the other bodies. "We are never, ever, going to tell the others about this incident," S mutters sternly to V, who raises a digital eyebrow.

"And what is stopping me from telling N and the toaster, hm?" She says with a small grin.

"You tell them, and I'll mention the fact Miss Murderer actually helped me," S says with a blank face, getting a glare from V.

"And what is stopping me from telling them anyway?"

"If you tell someone, I'll end your fucking existence."

V is barely fazed by the sudden curse from S, she then smiles smugly. "You would never,"

"What makes you think that?"

"Cause you love me too much to do that~" She says in an oddly sweet, sing-song tone.

S's eyes widen as they cover their brightly blushing face with a flustered noise. "AHH- SHHHH. YOU NEVER HEARD THAT CONVERSATION!!"

V summons her wings and expands them, ready to fly off. "Except I did, and I will forever use that knowledge against you,"

"Will you ever give me an answer about it though?!"

S doesn't get a reply, and V flies off. S stares after her, mouth open before they groan, tail flicking behind them. That was a clear no to getting a response.

[knifearo]

reminder to everyone that trauma IS a valid reason to use aspec labels. "i don't know if i'm aspec or just traumatized—" protip!!! you can be both!!!! the thing about labels is that they're not immutable states of being that you're born as. they're literally just words that we use to describe our lived experiences, and if asexual or aromantic or any related label feel relevant to the way that you experience attraction, whether it's a result of trauma or not, they're there for you to use. having trauma as a cause does not invalidate the fact that someone is experiencing lesser or no attraction. that's still the aspec experience babey. use the label if you want it's there for you <3

[satanfemme]

I had a very very long fixation on owls when I was a child for like, idk, 7 years straight probably it was my whole life. and its not something I've really thought about much since becoming an adult, but my dad just sent me an audio clip of an owl vocalizing and was like "identify this species for me" and I responded with an answer immediately, with full confidence. so yeah I guess u could say I've still got it

[tardis--dreams]

To summarize today's day in university:

- got diagnosed with social phobia by a class mate (bitch?!)

- heard a Very cool lecture/presentation by a guest lecturer

- our lecturer said she kinda liked our idea for our presentation

- had lunch with friends in the uni canteen which was nice but evoked some existential despair

[transxfiles]

lost phineas and ferb episode where perry is called to investigate what dr doofenshmirtz is up to because carl the intern got ahold of some intel that doof has been seen speaking to lawyers and looking up the endangered species act at internet cafes and as major monogram says, "something fishy is going on"

meanwhile phineas and ferb's subplot of "i know what we're gonna do today!" is that isabella needs her environmentalist fireside girls badge so they start researching which species are in urgent need of help in the tri-state area so that they can use new cloning and gene therapy technologies to bring at-risk animals back from extinction

(yes there is a c-plot where buford and baljeet argue the ethics of this idea, i don't have time to explain it all for you rn)

we cut back to🎵doofenshmirtz evil incorporated🎵where we see perry carefully maneuvering around doofenshmirtz's lab scared he might fall into a trap but he hasn't set off a single booby trap and it's clear something is off

he runs into doofenshmirtz and goes to kick him in the gut action movie style but doof steps back one overly confident and says, "nuh uh uh, you see perry the platypus, you are TRAPPED! by the danville section of the endangered species act of 1973!"

doof goes on to explain his tragic backstory: "you see, perry the platypus, when i was a child my parents did not show up for my own birth! but you know that already, yadda yadda yadda they did not love me and then they loved roger more, ANYways i was raised by ocelots! i had a lovely foster mother who took me in and made me one of the pride, and so you see, perry the platypus, i am still legally considered an ocelot. did you know that there are only 50 recorded ocelots still alive in the continental united states? very sad for me as a member of a near-extinct species. it would be immoral for you to hurt someone critically endangered... in fact, you have made many attempts on my life this summer"

[montage of doof's security camera footage of their battles]

"which is why i have decided to bring you... TO COURT!" we cut back to phineas and ferb's back yard where they've decided to start cloning ocelots in their kiddie pool

candace storms outside enraged and says, "phineas and ferb are you cloning ocelots in my duckie momo kiddie pool!?"

ferb's one line of the episode is "well, i guess it's more of a kitty pool, now"

candace storms away saying, "i'm going to tell mom!" and isabella turns to phineas and says, "oh, does your mom have experience in wildlife conservation?"

we cut back to the doof and perry plotline where the two are now in the danville hall of justice and we learn that doof has spent his monthly alimony check on a defense lawyer and perry turns and sees the lawyer and then vanessa helping her organize her briefcase and perry chitters at her and vanessa shrugs and says, "i'm thinking about going into legal defense. sorry perry."

the rest of the doof and perry b-plot is spent in court and perry is about to ask for a public defense lawyer when carl runs into the room and explains that he's owca's official legal defense and perry looks at him like, "uhhh is that even allowed?"

it doesn't matter because apparently the judge is out sick today but because it's danville roger's the judge now because he's the mayor and everyone loves him.

the court case continues.

meanwhile phineas and ferb have successfully cloned multiple ocelots from the original ocelot dna they had on hand and isabella asks phineas if these clones will experience health problems like premature aging, phineas casually explains that ferb figured out the problem while they were experimenting with stem cell harvesting.

back in the courtroom, doof's ocelot foster mother has been brought to the stand along with an ocelot to english translator. doof gets emotional seeing her after so long. she says that he was one of her favorite child and he was as strong a hunter as anyone else in the family. it's incredibly sweet. the jury's in tears.

meanwhile, isabella has established connections with a group in texas who are going to release the ocelots back into their natural habitat and, using the cloned ocelots to prevent inbreeding, help establish an ocelot breeding program. the group explains that they are going to send a helicopter to retrieve the cloned ocelots from danville and bring them to texas soon.

isabella gets her fireside girls badge.

candace manages to get mom to see the backyard only after the ocelots have been helicoptered off to coastal texas, their primary habitat.

mom makes it into the backyard as phineas stares wistfully over the fence and says, "if you love something, you have to let it go." candace goes, "look mom look look look!" and points at the ducky momo kiddie pool, devoid of cloned ocelots, where baljeet and buford are now chilling out, having settled their philosophical debate about the ethics of animal cloning.

back in the courtroom drama, doof looks like he's about to win when an attendant walks into the courtroom and whispers something in roger's ear.

roger looks up, grinning, and says, "good news, everyone! my attendant here has just enlightened me that ocelots are no longer considered critically endangered!"

this settles the case, with perry being decreed not guilty and the entire affair being called off. the courtroom cheers, roger walks over to doof and personally congratulates him on his species' return from the brink of extinction.

doof shouts, "curse you endangered species classification system!" at the ceiling of the danville hall of justice.

perry arrives back home just in time for mom to say, "who wants pie?"

the end.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC Prompt. Dead on main with priest Jason: Father Todd brings the Ghost King’s cult into the World of the Living.

So, when Jason dies and returns, the League of Assassins fails to hold him for long because spirits from Far Frozen pick him up after seeing teen through the Lazarus pit.

Jason quickly realizes that, well, they’re kinda obsessed with their cult of the Great One. And yeah the cult of the ruling Ghost King was very popular during the reign of the Pariah Dark but back then the rituals were carried out more out of fear. Now things are different. The population of the Ghost Zone has become interested in the activities of Frostbite and his loyal spirits because of an attempt to understand what kind of ghost the new ruler is and how best to thank and appease him. So Jason had no shortage of stories about the teenager's deeds.

~~~~

Jason to Frostbite: Well, you guys and your lil hobby are nice but I don't understand at all what's so cool about this guy, even if he defeated Pariah Dark and gets along with most of the Ancients…

Danny: *comes to visit Frostbite*, *slips and falls three times, sets the kitchen on fire in an attempt to make coffee then sheepishly smiles at Jason*.

Jason to Frostbite: ... Okay, Understandable, I Hope Danny Has a Nice Day and Some Sleep.

Tucker: Congratulations, you've acquired another Paulina. Great job. Danny: I'd rather he just asked me out instead of worshipping me. What the hell? I'm just a semi-ghost.

Tucker: Maybe things would be easier if you just gave him your phone number, you know? Danny: But he didn't ask. Tucker: Why didn't you ask? Danny: I couldn't! He's Robin himself, you know? Tucker: Well, good luck to you idiots to grow old alone near the altars of each other's name. Danny: Actually lil altar in his honor is not such a bad idea. Maybe this way he'll understand that I like him too.. Tucker: Danny, no!

~~~~

New in Gotham robbers break into Jason's place: Hey, father, God ordered you to share with your neighbors, so bring us some money or we.. Jason, who is talking on the phone with Danny: In fact, he just said that if you don't get out of here now, he will turn a blind eye to the fact that I will use my guns.

Danny*screams internally*: Oh Ancients, he's sooo cool!

Pandora: Honey, we're happy for you but stop flooding us with spam. You have already told 5 times during prayer how good his abs and chest look and how perfect Todd is when he reads aloud. We get it, okay? Clockwork: Well, I actually enjoy it. It's so much more interesting to watch while listening to the internal dialogue. Show must go on~ Danny: ...Get out of my mind! Nocturn: Thou shalt not take the name of the Lords in vain if you don't want to share with us, lil blob. So rude.

~~~Team Song: You Are My Religion · Firehouse~~~~

[wonryllis]

candy, you're like a drug (m) | sim jaeyun.

PREVIEW. where jake teaches you how to blow him behind the bleachers just before his soccer practice, unable to resist the charm of you in a cheerleader outfit. well it's not like he has to resist you anymore, you are finally officially his girl.

FEATURING. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader(candy) from WATERMELON SUGAR . . this can absolutely be read as a standalone but i would still suggest giving the full fic a read, if you like this.

WORD COUNT. 3140 edited but don't come at me.

WARNINGS. SMUT MDNI!!!!! blowjob obviously, face fucking, dacryphilia, corruption kink, handjob, reader's a crybaby kinda, pussy rubbing but brief, mentions of eating pussy, voyeurism slightly, jake's mind is literally a museum of dirty thoughts about you. he's way too obsessed with you, he swears a lot and cums a lot, hand in hand. jake is real sweet trust. psst! sunghoon thrid wheeling oh. and that's all i think? idk if it's good i hope y'all like it!

★ YEONIE NOTES. this took so long im sorry guys, pls enjoy and leave comments and feedback i'd love to know your thoughts and yes im still open to doing more drabbles for them!

cheerleader… not a bad idea, you could definitely make use of it

“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.

“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.

“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of you is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.

“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.

“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.

“let me just put this down f’ you,” taking off his varsity jacket immediately, he spreads two fold on the ground, pressing his hands on it to make sure it's cushioned enough for you. being glad of the fact that he hadn't taken the jacket off for the practice before you came to give him the surprise.

. .

“you okay baby? do your knees hurt too much?” he asks once it settles in that you are doing this here and right now. heart pounding against his ribs so hard, he feels it ringing in his ears. his eyes cast down to the place your knees meet the rough ground and he internally grimaces and scolds himself for letting your soft skin scrap against dirt like this.

you smile sweetly at his actions, moving onto the jacket and letting your knees rub against the same cloth you watched him wash just yesterday. his precious jacket that he always took extra care of.

“so? how do i do it?” jake’s eyes quiver, orbs darkening as the lust takes over. blood rushing down quick at the dirty insinuation behind the innocent words that leave your mouth. drunk on the way you already seem so into it.

“take it out first,” he tries not to falter and just moan his heart out when you already jump at pulling his pants and boxers down before he's even finished speaking. holding his breath while he watches you watch his cock slap against his lower abs and then reach out to gently grasp it. mouth instinctively slacking open when he twitches in your grip and slowly bringing him close. a wet smooch at the tip that makes his whole body shudder and release a thick glob of precum, confusing you if he just came, your eyes instantly shooting up to look at him to which he just nods his head telling you to go on. put it in your mouth. his gaze speaks, air dense with anticipation.

“go on baby⁠— fuckkkkk oh god,” fuck fuck fuck, it feels way too good, cock laying heavy against your hot tongue, the softness of your mouth inside feeling like a tight pouch of warmth engulfing him in the most pleasurable way possible.

“just s-suck on it like your lollies,” jake groans, uttering the words through his clenched teeth. just a minute into you trying to give him head and he already feels like busting a nut. god how long has he dreamt of this exact moment and how many times. how many dreadful nights of fisting his cock imagining it was your tiny warm mouth around him, sucking him hard and sloppy like you do with those watermelon lollipops all the damn time in front of him. those torturing times, oh he can't believe he survived it to actually know what it feels like to be inside your mouth.

his hair sticks to his forehead, feeling the sweat drip as he breathed hard with every experimental suck. hands reaching down to push the strands of hair that fall forwards away from your face. thumb caressing your the skin under your eyes as you look up and into his brown orbs. holding eye contact with a dazed doe look that drives him crazy. the touch of your small hands stroking what you can't seemingly fit inside, lips always coming back to suck on his tip, like slurping dripping candy. he felt crazed, insane, and lunatic for still craving so much more of you.

“yeah fuck candy, just like that,” he pants, head tilting back as he gasps for air, everything around him tuning out at the realization of having you on your knees for him.

“shit!” the sudden feeling of you gagging around him after trying to take him all in makes jake jerk forward in a shudder.

it doesn't take him another second to decide that, that's it. he can't control himself anymore and absolutely needs to fuck your mouth, push so deep into your throat it leaves the imprints of his cock and make you so cock drunk all you ever think about when you gulp is him him and just him.

“push my thighs if gets too much—” one of his hands thread into your hair in a makeshift half pony to hold your head firmly and the other squeezing below his tip hard to hold himself from nutting before he gets to the real thing, wanting to drag this out even though he knows sooner or later someone will come searching for him, noticing the quaterback’s absence the moment one pays a tad bit of attention.

jake has never been the one to skip practice and especially not for something indecent like this. being late is not in his veins and keeping his varsity duffle bag at the stark front of the bleachers; his all time habit, always eager to make his presence and determination known. so the fact that he can't be spotted anywhere in the field with his bag resting exactly where it is every time, is more than enough of a reason to have the whole team searching around for him. however, in all honesty, you being an exception to all of jake's rules(as it has always been) all he hopes for is not being caught no matter how much the thought of it arouses him. he can't let people see this pretty you. wanting to gatekeep you to the very last bits. hence, this blowjob is way more important, and practice and his team can just wait a few extra minutes.

he starts off slow at first, thrusting careful and steady, to let you adjust to it. ten, nine, eleven, eleven, trying to count sheep in his head not to lose his cool too quick. shit shit shit, it's okay, it's all good.

it works for a while, even if his counting is fucked over like him, it works for a short fleeting while. maybe a minute or two or three, he has no idea but it's too brief of a time to be called as holding back.

he takes one look at you. just one look, at the way you already seem to be struggling, drooling all around him with your doe eyes all wide and teary, a few drops slipping out with each thrust of him. you are a crybaby for sure and maybe it would've annoyed him if it were someone else but come on it's you. he already imagined you to be a crybaby and god did it turn him on beyond expectation, though he didn't think you'd actually be one, and he definitely never thought he'd love it so so much when you cried for him. eyelashes wet and batting at him, doing whatever it takes to keep your eyes open and trained on him.

if he knew it was because the first time you fucked, he asked you to keep your eyes on him and you thought he liked it when you did it, hence forcing your hooded eyes to stay on him right now.. jake would lose his mind into the depths of hell and into the sins of lust.

the whimper you let out when his cock hits the back of your throat makes him buck his hips forward once, and at realization of how you're struggling and yet not pushing him away because you want it just as much as him, his grip on your head tightens before he starts thrusting frantically like a madman. albeit, at the back of his subconscious he's still holding back, knowing you're not yet ready to handle his true lost self.

“i swear, you're trying to kill me,” his voice strains with the amount of moans and groans he held back all time to make sure people don't find him.

back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. jake's hips fall into a rhythm of their own as he swears out all the curses known to mankind at the back of his mind. feeling so good, it makes him question if all the sex he had until you was actually some real sex or just some otome simulation he played.

there's no way something as simple as this and something where he has to be sane enough to hold his demons in check could feel so damn ecstatic.

his eyes shut tight at the feeling of his orgasm creeping in quick. not wanting to overwhelm you by coming deep inside your throat, yet not being able to stop the frenzied thrusts: desperate and erratic. fucking you had him fighting demons but having your mouth on him also has him fight demons, though a level lower, but feeling like his life would be sucked out of him.

and if there's anyone who he'd actually let sucking his life out of him, it'd be you. one whine of his name and he'll fold to give you his cock anytime and anywhere.

“fuck candy, ‘m so close,” jake's strokes falter into sloppy movements when you suck in your lips to squeeze him tighter showing no signs of pushing at his thighs and just letting him hold your head in place and use you as he pleases.

just as he feels the first twinge of coming undone, jake quite literally forces himself out, gritting his teeth and holding his breath as he pulls away mumbling out a rough fuck while staggering in his steps.

“jerk me off, wanna finish on your face, wan to paint your pretty little cheeks and your cute little tongue with my cum,” he mutters, guiding one of your hands to his cock as one of his own moves to hold your jaw and squeeze your cheeks to keep your mouth open. thumb rubbing against your lower lips while he bites his own at your hands returning to stroke him like you did before. brows furrowing and heart thumping loud as his orgasm builds up again.

he's gonna cum so much and jake knows because it starts to hurt. and like the masochist he is, he heightens it by bringing his other hand to hold his cock over your small slick ones,”twist it like this under the head,” he says squeezing and moving his hands in twists to show you just how he likes it. and lord do you get it so well, twisting harshly just under the head like he said and then pulling at it. it's honestly a mysery to jake how he's lasted this long and not just cum in the first two minutes of you touching him. perhaps his experience comes to some use, but then even his experience can't help him from nutting in just merely twenty minutes. the time he so struggled to calculate just a couple seconds before he lets the pleasure take over and the hot spurts of cum shoot out on your tongue and all over your face.

“mhmmm fuck baby fuckkkk—” jake hisses, biting down on his lips hard as his whole body spasms with pleasure, ropes of cum spilling out the tip, pushing his hips in quick thrusts into your fist.

and even though jake has perhaps sworn a million times that he's not a voyeur, that he does not feel his entire being ascending into the holy sins at the prospect of being watched with you, especially anyone besides him, watching you, he swears he has sworn on it a good damn gazallion times. yet when he spots a boggled and overwhelmed sunghoon, gaping and gawking in the corner, the intrigue and hunger in his obscure gaze evident along with his obvious boner; jake feels a second orgasm coaxed out of him in another spurt of cum that lands directly on that spot on your lips he loves to rub his fingers over.

fuck. that's all jake can think of watching sunghoon realize he was caught and immediately rushing off. since when was that prick watching? he better not have gotten a look at your teary eyes and heard the little whines you let out.

he doesn't let it bother him too long though, he'll deal with it when he gets back to the field.

what he now wants to focus on is you and only you.

running his thumb over the splashes of cum and smearing them on your lips, inserting his fingers into your mouth and telling you to suck before he's pulling you up by your waist and holding you tight against him. his cock rubs against the fabric of your skirt, twitching with sensitivity at the touch but he pays it no mind. his own lips hovering over yours as he speaks in a whisper,”are you okay? did i hurt you somewhere?”

you shake your head in denial and jake heaves a sigh of relief, proceeding to tame your hair back to how it was before. palms caressing your head softly, and fingers threading through the strands all gentle and slow. not wanting this moment with you to end. his lips lock with yours in the midst of it as his hands fall down to your waist again. kissing with so much fervor and desperation, it makes you rub your thighs together to get some kind of a friction. and jake notices it for his hand had moved to play with the ends of your short skirt, knuckles loosely brushing against the back of your thighs that fidgeted every time he sucked on your tongue or nibbled on your lips.

“oh, my baby seems bothered,” pulling away to whisper it against your lips that chase his own for more.

“what do you want? tell me and i’ll give it to you,” jake grins, watching you struggle out of embarrassment,”come on candy, use your words,” it's so cute, should he just touch you or should he take his time cooing at your fumbling self.

“w- want yo—”

“well since you aren't gonna say it,” he picks up his jacket from the ground and brings it up to your face to wipe off his cum from your cheeks. pushing against the plump of your skin to make your lips pout out and one of your eyes close.

“want you to touch me too,” you whine.

“where baby? you gotta tell me,” he teased further, booping your nose before putting his jacket back on him.

“here,” jake’s breath hitches when you guide his hand down to touch you over your panties, the fabric so damn wet you might as well have cum untouched. the prospect of that being true turns him on beyond what's humanely possible. you cumming untouched while he fucked your mouth, god the thought of it makes him crazy. but thinking back on how sunghoon wandered in, it's better to leave it at this for now. can't have more people getting the opportunity to see you.

“here? my baby wants me to touch her pussy?” there's so much more he wants to say, but he knows if he says it now there's no way he won't be getting rock hard again and completely ditching practice.

his fingers press hard into your folds while he rubs around, his other hand squeezing your ass and his face buried in your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he bites and nibbles on the skin there.

“i’m sorry candy, but you'll have to wait until after practice. want to take my time eating you out. want to make you cum at least three times,” and make you squirt, he wants to add but man does the thought of it make his dick twitch, speaking it out loud would just make him squirt a pump of cum.

he slips his fingers inside to gather your wetness, sliding two fingers between your folds before taking it out and putting them into his mouth,"fuck, love the way you taste,”he groans. his favorite candy in the world. his drug, candy.

jake spends another minute rubbing you over your slick panties and letting his other hand on your ass move all over and grope you wherever he can. he makes sure it's just enough to have you craving his touch the entire time you wait. feeling jealous over the thought that having you wait for him by the bleachers would give sunghoon a view of you too. and knowing his friend, he probably won't have any innocent thoughts about you after what he walked into.

“come on now let's go,” it takes a great deal of self constraint for jake to pull away but alas it will only be fruitful once he gets through practice and has all the time in the world to pleasure you.

he helps you fix your appearance and dusts off his jacket and pulls up his pants before he leads you back out into the field where everyone waited for him.

“wait for me here,” he says, bringing you to his bag where he takes off his ‘thisisneverthat’ shirt to put on his jersey with a smug grin lacing his lips. placing his jacket on your lap to cover your pretty legs, if he could he would just burrito you with a blanket and th— no sim that's creepy.

“I'll be back before you know it,” bending down to place a chaste kiss on lips and forehead, he promises. jogging away to the middle of the field and taking his position beside sunghoon. it feels like there's a spark of tension between them from what you catch, but perhaps you're just thinking too much, they're good friends aren't they?

TAGLIST. @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @jaklvbub @kwiwin @brachives @jayhoonvroom @haelahoops @aaa-sia @lovingvoidgoatee @txtlyn @jakehooni @mnxnii @rikisly @notevenheretbh1 @yunjinsbbg @pjsfvs @yizhoutv @enhyven @capri-cuntz @heeseungsbabyy @aishigrey @wooziswife @citylightsdoll @yeonzzzn @istphanie @chaewonshoney @cha0thicpisces @laurradoesloveu @bambammtori @wonsbaer @ayyysweetcreature

[katrafiy]

I think about this image a lot. This is an image from the Aurat March (Women's March) in Karachi, Pakistan, on International Women's Day 2018. The women in the picture are Pakistani trans women, aka khwaja siras or hijras; one is a friend of a close friend of mine.

In the eyes of the Pakistani government and anthropologists, they're a "third gender." They're denied access to many resources that are available to cis women. Trans women in Pakistan didn't decide to be third-gendered; cis people force it on them whether they like it or not.

Western anthropologists are keen on seeing non-Western trans women as culturally constructed third genders, "neither male nor female," and often contrast them (a "legitimate" third gender accepted in its culture) with Western trans women (horrific parodies of female stereotypes).

There's a lot of smoke and mirrors and jargon used to obscure the fact that while each culture's trans women are treated as a single culturally constructed identity separate from all other trans women, cis women are treated as a universal category that can just be called "women."

Even though Pakistani aurat and German Frauen and Guatemalan mujer will generally lead extraordinarily different lives due to the differences in culture, they are universally recognized as women.

The transmisogynist will say, "Yes, but we can't ignore the way gender is culturally constructed, and hijras aren't trans women, they're a third gender. Now let's worry less about trans people and more about the rights of women in Burkina Faso."

In other words, to the transmisogynist, all cis women are women, and all trans women are something else.

"But Kat, you're not Indian or Pakistani. You're not a hijra or khwaja sira, why is this so important to you?"

Have you ever heard of the Neapolitan third gender "femminiello"? It's the term my moniker "The Femme in Yellow" is derived from, and yes, I'm Neapolitan. Shut up.

I'm going to tell you a little bit about the femminielli, and I want you to see if any of this sounds familiar. Femminielli are a third gender in Neapolitan culture of people assigned male at birth who have a feminine gender expression.

They are lauded and respected in the local culture, considered to be good omens and bringers of good luck. At festivals you'd bring a femminiello with you to go gambling, and often they would be brought in to give blessings to newborns. Noticing anything familiar yet?

Oh and also they were largely relegated to begging and sex work and were not allowed to be educated and many were homeless and lived in the back alleys of Naples, but you know we don't really like to mention that part because it sounds a lot less romantic and mystical.

And if you're sitting there, asking yourself why a an accurate description of femminiello sounds almost note for note like the same way hijras get described and talked about, then you can start to understand why that picture at the start of this post has so much meaning for me.

And you can also start to understand why I get so frustrated when I see other queer people buy into this fool notion that for some reason the transes from different cultures must never mix.

That friend I mentioned earlier is a white American trans woman. She spent years living in India, and as I recal the story the family she was staying with saw her as a white, foreign hijra and she was asked to use her magic hijra powers to bless the house she was staying in.

So when it comes to various cultural trans identities there are two ways we can look at this. We can look at things from a standpoint of expressed identity, in which case we have to preferentially choose to translate one word for the local word, or to leave it untranslated.

If we translate it, people will say we're artificially imposing an outside category (so long as it's not cis people, that's fine). If we don't, what we're implying, is that this concept doesn't exist in the target language, which suggests that it's fundamentally a different thing

A concrete example is that Serena Nanda in her 1990 and 2000 books, bent over backwards to say that Hijras are categorically NOT trans women. Lots of them are!

And Don Kulick bent over backwards in his 1998 book to say that travesti are categorically NOT trans women, even though some of the ones he cited were then and are now trans women.

The other option, is to look at practice, and talk about a community of practice of people who are AMAB, who wear women's clothing, take women's names, fulfill women's social roles, use women's language and mannerisms, etc WITHIN THEIR OWN CULTURAL CONTEXT.

This community of practice, whatever we want to call it - trans woman, hijra, transfeminine, femminiello, fairy, queen, to name just a few - can then be seen to CLEARLY be trans-national and trans-cultural in a way that is not clearly evident in the other way of looking at things.

And this is important, in my mind, because it is this axis of similarity that is serving as the basis for a growing transnational transgender rights movement, particularly in South Asia. It's why you see pictures like this one taken at the 2018 Aurat March in Karachi, Pakistan.

And it also groups rather than splits, pointing out not only points of continuity in the practices of western trans women and fa'afafines, but also between trans women in South Asia outside the hijra community, and members of the hijra community both trans women and not.

To be blunt, I'm not all that interested in the word trans woman, or the word hijra. I'm not interested in the word femminiello or the word fa'afafine.

I'm interested in the fact that when I visit India, and I meet hijras (or trans women, self-expressed) and I say I'm a trans woman, we suddenly sit together, talk about life, they ask to see American hormones and compare them to Indian hormones.

There is a shared community of practice that creates a bond between us that cis people don't have. That's not to say that we all have the exact same internal sense of self, but for the most part, we belong to the same community of practice based on life histories and behavior.

I think that's something cis people have absolutely missed - largely in an effort to artificially isolate trans women. This practice of arguing about whether a particular "third gender" label = trans women or not, also tends to artificially homogenize trans women as a group.

You see this in Kulick and Nanda, where if you read them, you could be forgiven for thinking all American trans women are white, middle class, middle-aged, and college-educated, who all follow rigid codes of behavior and surgical schedules prescribed by male physicians.

There are trans women who think of themselves as separate from cis women, as literally another kind of thing, there are trans women who think of themselves as coterminous with cis women, there are trans women who think of themselves as anything under the sun you want to imagine.

The problem is that historically, cis people have gone to tremendous lengths to destroy points of continuity in the transgender community (see everything I've cited and more), and particularly this has been an exercise in transmisogyny of grotesque levels.

The question is do you want to talk about culturally different ways of being trans, or do you want to try to create as many neatly-boxed third genders as you can to prop up transphobic theoretical frameworks? To date, people have done the latter. I'm interested in the former.

I guess what I'm really trying to say with all of this is that we're all family y'all.

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ'ꜱ ʜᴏᴍᴇ - ᴋ.ᴍɢ

» PAIRING : Kim Mingyu x F! Reader

» WORD COUNT : 1.1k

» GENRE : Smut

» SYNOPSIS : When Mingyu comes back from his business trip, he finds you all curled... Well with toys around you.

» WARNING/CONTENT : Daddy! Gyu, subspace, kinda agedup! Gyu, somnophilia, mention of sex toys, daddy kink, nicknames, reader is very needy, dirty talking, unprotected sex, fingering.

» TAGLIST FORM : Here ♡

FEEDBACKS AND REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!

Mingyu walks into the room, careful enough to not make a sound while setting his huge bag down. He walks over to your bed, your bedside lamp illuminating across the room, making your face look ever so pretty. Mingyu lets out a deep chuckle under his breath, internally cooing at the dried tears on your cheeks, knowing well enough what you were upto before you were knocked out to sleep. Your shirt – well basically his – barely covered your whole body, and there was a tossed vibrator by your side which quite explained for itself. 

   You feel the bed beside you dip, and your eyes flutter slightly. Mingyu draws a soft moan out of you as he lets his hands caress your sides. His hands glide down to your thighs, his long fingers almost covering them whole. “Mhm Wake up baby, daddy's home.”

   Your eyes fluttered open, and you were instantly met with the sight of Mingyu, with his hair all over his eyes and forehead. A sly smirk adorning his facial features while his minty breath hits you. 

   Your mind swiftly goes into a frenzy on realising the way he addressed himself in that deep voice. And soft low whimpers resonate through the room in no time blending with his loud breaths and the sound made from his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. 

   “Daddy- hurts” You choke in between your whimpers, and your hands move to grasp onto his biceps. 

   Mingyu quickly shushes you softly, his lips meet the skin on your neck, finding your sweet spot in no time. His hands in between your thighs don't stop, “I know baby, missed daddy didn't you? Did you make yourself cum for me babygirl?”

   His words felt so normal yet so dirty, but like always, they made arousal seep out of you nonetheless. The pads of his fingers rub you ever so gently with a rough graze. Your skin felt hot against his yet the room was so cold, with the air conditioner on. 

   “N-No” You cry out, you barely noticed the way your mind settled into subspace. Being under him after so long felt so euphoric for you, the pleasure was soon swarming you and it was very much obvious from the way your body arched into him. 

   Mingyu knew your answer before the word pathetically slipped off your lips. His fingers spread your slick around messily, knowing well you were growing more and more impatient every passing second. He knew it would take less than two of his fingers pounding inside you to bring you down completely at his mercy, begging for his cock desperately without another thought in your head. 

   Mingyu hadn't removed his vest, but his tiddies surely looked handfull in front of your eyes. Your hands fumble to hold onto him and touch him, but your hazy mind could barely figure he was still completely dressed causing you to whine loudly not knowing what to do. “Daddy, w-wanna touch you- p-please” 

   If Mingyu had recorded how you sounded everytime he fucking you dumb, you would put yourself under ground from how pathetic you sounded for the man hovering over you. But Mingyu didn't care, in fact, his cock twitched every time you begged and whimpered due to his touch, slick leaked out of his cock staining his boxers while hearing the way you babble about how good he felt inside you. 

   Your words have Mingyu retreating his hands in seconds to hastily undo the buttons, cause – what his princess, his princess gets. And before you know it, his half naked figure is hovering over you. 

    Your lips swiftly latched onto the soft skin of his neck like it knew exactly where it belonged. Mingyu could only huff out a smile at that, cooing at how you seemed to love having your hands all over his body. His fingers are back on your cunt, rubbing harshly over it. “You're so wet baby, you're dripping so much, you feel that?” 

    Mingyu had every single clue that none of his words reached you properly, just moving over your head like it was nothing. Your brain could not comprehend any of his words, giving him all the access over you. But you truly had to say, from your past lovers, no one made you feel like Mingyu did. The trust you had in him, the way he gave you everything your horny brain asked for, the way he would not leave you unsatisfied even if you had been a brat to him and the way his cock filled you up till you saw white. 

   His fingers curl up inside you and the action has you convulsing around him as your orgasm within seconds. Mingyu grunts under his breath, his fingers helping you ride out your orgasm while your nails dug into his back. 

   Your mind completely shuts off when you feel his tip poking at your hole, his girth stretching you already. Your hands move to hold onto Mingyu's shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh leaving behind crescent shaped marks. “Fuck baby, I haven't even entered yet, did daddy have such an impact on you already?” 

   ‘Daddy daddy- in- please’ were the only words you could get out of your head, or the only words Mingyu could comprehend from your incoherent babblings. 

   “Mhm baby, I'm gonna stuff you with my cock alright?” He gave no mind about the way your legs wrapped around his waist in an instant as his cock sank into you. The burning sensation between your bodies increases as your eyes roll back in pleasure. Mingyu throws his head back at the way your walls hugged his cock, loving the way your pussy was just made for him to snuggle his cock in. 

   “Fuck I love this pussy so much baby, y'know that? I could fuck you every day and night like this till you could only babble about how good daddy feels inside you.” 

   His length retreats from your hole just a few inches before his hips are thrusting forward to slap against your ass cheeks as his cock hits deep inside you. Your hold tightens on him, phrases of ‘daddy’ and ‘s-so good’ mindlessly fall off your lips in between your loud moans which bounce off the glass windows. 

   Mingyu finally gives into his urge and he grasps your thighs, pressing them down on your chest with barely any effort before letting his hips smack against your ass over and over again at an animalistic pace. You could barely notice before you were clenching and pulsating around his cock as you came hard. 

   “Fuck, I barely even started baby, already cumming around daddy's cock are you?” Unlike the usual times, he did not slacken his thrusts, instead picking up his pace causing you to bury your head in his chest. God you were in for a long night. 

[uranometrias]

nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

[inkyray]

lazy messy high sex w virgin!reader or bestfriends w chris lol im so high rn so idk if anything im sayin makes sense lol have a gday

2.8k words

a/n: yall rlly fw the virgin bsf trope w chris huh, well you ask so i give!! here yall go enjoy, keep sending requests, do not be shyyy

warnings/content ahead: drug use, weed, mentions of alcohol, high sex, smut, straddling so like cowgirl??, oral male!receiving, virgin!reader(again) x bsf!chris(again), wrote this in literally one sitting so beware for the possibility of it being fast-paced and a bunch of mistakes

NORMAL?

You were confusing to say the least. Everyone knew that every once and a while you liked to get high out of your fucking brain on weed and shrooms. Yet, they knew you were a virgin, which was an interesting combo.

It wasn't the vibe you gave off, in fact, it was the opposite. You were confident with a high sex appeal. People knew because you were open about it, never understanding the whole concept with feeling shameful about keeping your virginity.

That didn't mean you were completely pure, though. Although you have kept your virginity, you had still admitted to giving multiple blowjobs and handjobs, so you weren't completely inexperienced.

You were at home practically doing nothing when you got a message from your best friend, telling you to come over and bring some pre-rolled blunts. You almost jumped at the message.

Putting his ego and sex life aside, if someone were to ask you, you would call Chris a goody-goody, which would really piss him off. In your 10 years of knowing the kid, he'd refuse to do any drugs or alcohol. He was open with the fact he didn't want to consume anything that would alter his brain chemistry. You couldn't do anything but respect him, still offering him some every once and a while.

In that sense, you two were opposites. He was always banging some new girl while you were doing pot with the rappers of LA. But in every other aspect, you two were identical. People, even his triplet brothers, would point out how you were like a female version of him, and how it made sense that you two were so close.

You were practically thrilled Chris had requested such a thing, your mind racing at all the possibilities as to why he'd ask you to bring your stash.

Standing in front of his house, you search for your gifted spare key, opening the place up and announcing that you were here. You had to keep yourself from skipping through his house in pure utter excitement.

You freeze at the sight of Chris in his kitchen, fully expecting him to be in his room. Quickly, you throw him the plastic bag of pre-rolled blunts and joints. The same second Chris registered you here was the same second he caught the plastic bag of weed, catching it with one arm.

"Drive safely here?" He questions, opening the plastic bag. You grin, imagining how high Chris could get, how'd he be. "I didn't drive high, don't worry. I was waiting until I got here." You seat yourself on the kitchen island's stool, leaning yourself against the table as you watch him sniff the bag.

"Mm. Good." He hummed, his face expressionless. You immediately furrowed your eyebrows. "What's wrong?" You ask the moment you felt his vibe was off. He looked up at you, he was great at expressing his positive emotions, his negative ones? Not so much.

"A bunch of bullshit on the internet. People love to wake up and act all fucking dumb." He mutters, throwing the bag against the table, sliding it toward you. "Chris, how many time do I need to fucking tell you." You sigh, taking out a roll and your lighter.

"'Don't take that shit seriously.' Yeah, I fucking know. It's just hard when it's constantly in your face." His tone is aggressive and louder. You take a moment before asking, "Is that why you told me to bring these?" You gesture to the weed.

Chris nods, "Yeah. Before I fucking punch someone." He goes on to tell you about how Nick and Matt left to go do some influencer shit you didn't understand, seeing how the internet had gotten him so hostile, insisting it'd be good if they left him alone for a few hours. "They shouldn't be back until a long fucking while."

You smile, "Should be enough time for us to get high and out of this fucking world, am I right?" You hold up a fist for him to bump. He just stares at it. "Just light the fucking blunt." He groans. You grumble, "Come on Chris, seriously? You gonna leave me hanging?"

He sighs, fist bumping you. You then fist bump the air in victory, quickly going to light the blunts. You bring your roll immediately to your lips, watching Chris as you hesitantly hold his up. You huff the smoke out of your nose. "Are you sure, Chris?"

"I'm sure." He blows in, you watch as the paper burns as air gets sucked out of it. His puffing interrupted by a cough, smoke forcefully leaving his mouth as he coughs it all up. "Don't worry," you say "this is normal for your first time, try holding it in?" You suggest.

He glares at you. "What? I'm not the one who made you cough, tough guy." You shrug.

He holds it back up to his lips, looking at you the entire time as he sucks in softer this time. He manages to hold the smoke in and blow it back out, leaving both his nose and mouth. "Mmm." You buzzed, smoking from your roll. "Good boy." You sang as he blew some of the smoke at your face. You scrunched up your nose, laughing.

"I also brought my bong, by the way."

-

Your back was slumped flatly against his kitchen table, you hadn't bothered to leave his kitchen since you stepped in there.

You watched as smoke painted abstract lines across his ceiling, the light so bright it had your blinking hurt. Chris felt his mind pooling out of his ears as he sat on his couch in the living room, holding onto your bong.

"Should've brought the shrooms." He utters, finishing his blunt. Chris lost count of which one this was. You laughed slowly, "Slow down, druggie."

He turned his head, examining you laying on his kitchen table, "Hm, you comfortable?" You shake your head. "Not at all."

"Then come sit next to me, dumbass." He huffed, you slouched yourself off his kitchen table, feeling the cramp on your back beginning to form. You stretched quickly before plopping yourself beside him.

"You fuck with it?" You ask him, he turns to look at you, glassy blue eyes rimmed with red. It only makes you wonder what you look like. Your brain feels hot, and you direct it to his lips. You watch as he's about to puff some fog out, but quickly sucks it back in mouth and blows it out of his nose. "Heavy." He answers you, his voice a tone louder than a whisper.

He manspreads through his baggy black sweatpants as you sigh. "If I could go back in time to when I first got high like this, I would."

Chris nods slowly. "Like, try something new?" He questions, his voice more hoarse than when you got here.

"Yeah. New and addictive, as fucked up as it sounds. I don't want to regret it. Sort of like the same thing you're doing right now." You pat down the surface of your blunt on an ashtray, getting rid of accumulated ash.

It's a comfortable silence for a moment. There's not really much to say when you could barely feel your mind in your head.

"I have an idea in mind, but you're not gonna like it."

You're immediately intrigued, turning to look at him, raising a weak eyebrow. "Let's be honest, I'll probably fucking like it."

He hums, his voice purring in some sort of acknowledgement. "Let me fuck you?" He gets straight to the point, and you can't even say you're surprised. You back yourself away from him for a moment, taking him all in. You'd be the earth's biggest liar if you said you wouldn't take him right then and there.

"You'd be comfortable with that?" You draw out, watching his pink lips begin to form a response. "You're the virgin here, I should be the one asking you that."

He's right. You raise your gaze back to him. He blinks slowly at you, hair falling perfectly on his forehead as pieces continue to messily look longer than the others. His necklace glimmering lightly under the dimly lit living room as he looks at you lazily through his eyelashes. "I don't think there's any other time I'd like to lose my virginity than right now." You admit.

His smirk grows as he pats his lap. "Come here." You looked at him as you crawled onto his lap, straddling him as he put his blunt out. Sitting on him, his gaze darted everywhere on you, following from your eyes to the slope of your neck, melting to your chest.

"Don't be awkward." He ordered, grabbing the side of your face as he kissed your soft mouth. You kissed him back, your mind immediately going blank as he pulled away. "Already?" You whined before shutting up immediately. He kisses the curve of your jaw, trailing down your neck, giving you sloppy wet neck kisses, leaving your skin glistening with a layer of his spit, unknowingly grinding into his growing erection.

Without a question, he lifts your shirt off of you, you place it off to the side as he looks up at your red eyes. Tugging out your bra, he asks "Can I take this off you?"

You slip your hand into his pants, snapping at the elastic of his boxers. "Only if I take this off you." He grins, "We're getting there, baby." His voice low and jagged from everything he's been smoking, you feel yourself getting wetter, deciding to be the one who dives in for this kiss.

Without really meaning to, you give him an open-mouthed kiss, your lips immediately wrapping around his bottom ones and sucking gently on it, feeling him unclasp your bra as he sticks his tongue inside of you, slipping it off.

His fingers run themselves through your hair before transitioning to your bare skin, his palms sliding down the hill of your boob and grazing the dip of your waist before holding tightly onto your hips, holding you down as he pushes you back and forth onto his crotch.

You rhythmically grind yourself into him as he guides you, your kissing becoming less in order and more messy, more wetter. You both taste like weed, the smell fogging up the place around you and even your minds, every moment more intense and harsher, out of order yet perfect.

With a hand holding your hips hard enough to leave marks in the morning, his other hand uses two delicate fingers to brush down your spine, the tingling sensation sends a small shiver down your spine, arching your back to the touch. That same hand moving to the opposite side of your hips, caving into your leg and groping your thigh as he bites your lip when you went to take a break for a breath of air.

He whimpers your name, clearly more into this than you thought. You scatter off of him and he watches you confused, pressing down to his crotch. You shove his hands away, sitting  on your knees and you lean toward him. "You're so beautiful." He looks down at you as you take his sweatpants off, instinctively folding it and putting off to the side. That's how you knew you were high. "Let me suck your dick." You say in response to his compliment.

He plays with your hair, grabbing small strands and following it until he reaches the edge and they fall out of his grasp, repeating the action. "Thoughtful girl, hm." Chris mutters, he moans when you shove his boxers off and without warning, wrapping your lips around him.

Your tongue swirls around his tip before collecting all the leaking pre-cum from his hole, pressing your tongue in it which makes his hips buckle up. Your boobs graze softly against his legs as you let go for a moment, saliva drooping down his length as you spit at your palm, looking up at him as you begin to stroke him. He throws his head back, loud whimpers of your name slipping from his mouth. You continue your stroking as you bring the tip of him to your mouth once again, bopping your head up and down, matching the speed of you stroking as he grips the top of your head, pulling on your hair. "Fuck– I'm gonna– fuck!" He cums in your mouth and you pull away, strings of liquid managing to connect from him to your mouth as you swallow him down. 

"More?" You question once he's caught his breath, he looks down at you. "It felt like my virginity just got taken away from me." You laugh at his comment, grabbing a joint and quickly lighting it up for a quick puff. His eyes were still bloodshot, but you held the smoke in before you got closer to him, he opened his mouth, his eyes on yours as you blew the smoke straight into it. He sucked in the fog and released it through his nose.

You sat back on him, the only thing keeping your bare skin from touching was the pants you still haven't taken off yet. You brought the joint back to his mouth and he happily took a long drag. "Still a virgin, by the way." You remind him, licking your thumb and index finger, stinging the half-smoked joint light gone. "Right. Here for business aren't we?" He blows the smoke from his mouth, pointing it to his right so it wouldn't hit your face. "Damn straight." You nod.

"Nice tits, by the way."

"Chris just fuck me."

Your pants were off in seconds and you found yourself hovering right over him, hesitant to just fully take him.

"We don't have to." He trails, holding onto your waist, sure you were both high to the point of seeing stars, but he was still considerate. "I want to." You muttered, holding onto his shoulders as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. Your walls immediately clenched around him and it was almost painful, slowly but surely Chris helped you raise yourself as you raised his hips with you, your moans muffled out of your hearing capacity, hyper focused on his noises and the idea of fully thrusting with him.

"Want me to go slow?" He groans, slowly pushing himself farther into you once he is out. "Just do it how you normally would." You drop your head to his shoulder, facing his neck as his thrust become more common, his speed going faster. Your nails clawed at his other shoulder as you kept everything in you not to bite onto him for closure. You would lift yourself up as he pushed himself inside you once you drop yourself back down, following his pace that would only just quicken.

Maybe it was the weed, but you could've sworn you had a warm tear make its way down your cheek, it was painful, but pleasurable, his size definitely not what you were expecting for your first time. You placed damp kisses along his neck and collarbone, feeling your stomach clench harshly. "Chris–"

"I know, baby. I know. Me too." He moans, barely able to utter a few words. You quickly push you off of him, both on que as you cum everywhere. You're thankful he did, not really sure what you would do if you got pregnant from your first time.

You lay on the gray couch completely naked, trying to get your breath in order. Chris does the same, turning to look at you to do so. His eyebrows furrow, "Did I hurt you?" He wipes away your tear with his thumb. "A little." You admit, "but I think it's normal. Right?" You question. "As long as it's not anything you didn't want, it should be normal." He nods, running his hands softly over your cum-covered stomach.

"How are we going to clean the couch from this?" You question, he looks up from you. "We better get to fucking work."

You stand up, your legs shaking as you attempt to put your underwear back on. Chris clicks his tongue. "Sit back down, I'll do it." He stands up, shoving himself back into his boxers, unfolding his sweatpants and putting them on.

You sigh, thinking about a shower and how good Chris felt against you. He manages to come back from around the corner with a towel. You attempt to help him clean. "We're so fucked." You mumbled.

He looks back at you and realizes just how high you two are. This event will definitely give you something to talk about later on, but for now Chris steals one more kiss from you, long and passionate. A different kind of euphoria for two idiots high out of their minds.

"I think you might be the bestest friend I've ever had." He says.

[donatellawritings]

tella!!!!!! how does rafe feel about sweetheart reader doing coke with him like would he allow her to?/????? to me I don't think he would give a fuck as long as he is with her ty tella

idk he’s so tricky i think he’d be against it ngl …

since he started dating you, rafe had drastically cutdown on his cocaine intake - he had caught on to how scared you’d become at his frantic behavior and induced outbursts, so he decided not to do it as much, limiting his indulgence to maybe once or twice a month. he usually kept you away whenever he’d be high, not wanting to have your high and positive perception of him to be fucked with by the white powder. however, as time and your relationship progressed, rafe found it harder and harder to be away from you, i mean you wore his initials around your neck, and found solace on his lap, more often than not. you were his and he was yours. so, you accepted all of him, as he did you.

the obnoxious boom of trap music vibrating through topper’s house muffled your hearing as you carefully made your way through the crowd of people. your body was hugged tightly by the pink strapless dress that clung to your every curve, your supple breasts pushed up just right as you made it to the backyard. your pink gifted louboutin heels clicking against the cobblestone pavement as you lightly swayed your hips to the music. you were about three drinks in and it was safe to say that you are tipsy, not even one-hundred percent sure as to how you managed to convince rafe that you didn’t need him to accompany you while you grabbed another drink.

you earned envious stares and inappropriate ogles as you found your way back to rafe, who sat with topper and kelce, a shit-eating grin on his face as he carefully cut the white powder into three neat lines. something strange had switched within you and left you biting into your bottom lip as you watched your boyfriend snort the line through a rolled dollar bill, before throwing his head back with a smile. maybe it was the fact that you were borderline wasted, or maybe your curiosity about the drug had finally gotten the better part of you - all you knew was that you were turned on and wanted to experience the same blissful high that rafe was currently riding on.

deciding to make your presence known, you took a long sip of your drink, your glittery gloss leaving a stain on the rim of the cup as you sauntered over to rafe, before taking a seat on his thigh, your plush ass clashing with the fabric of his khaki shorts while you ran a hand down his firm chest, “are you high?” you asked, your pearlescent nails now aimlessly toying with rafe’s chain.

looking at you with pupils that were blown to hell, rafe let out an amused laugh, bringing an arm to rest around your waist as he nodded, “yeah, y’want to try it?” he retorted, initially intending for it to be received as a lighthearted tease.

you beamed with an eager smile, “can i?”

rafe’s eyebrows furrowed as he internally fought with the idea of whether or not he should let you try it. a part of him was secure in knowing that your first high would be with him, under his supervision, yet a different part of him remained deadset on never letting that happen. rafe’s hand made its way to the back of your neck, clasping around it gently as he took a quick look of the partygoers who paid to get high on his supply. he couldn’t have you, his sweet girl walking around looking like the rest of these young adults who couldn’t even put a proper sentence together. you were pretty, pure, and smart - he refused to be the one who fucks that up.

pressing his lips to your forehead, rafe shakes his head, “maybe another time, mama - y’too pretty for it,” rafe declines, his grip on you slightly tightening as your face fell, his eyes watching closely as you took another sip of your drink, before sinking back against his chest. you were spoiled rotten by him and he knew it.

rafe hated saying no to you, but it was his job to keep you safe.

“but you do it, rafe,” you quipped with a roll of your eyes, leaning forward to stand up, before rafe pulls you back against him, his hand firmly rooted around the back of you neck, “leave me alone,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes away from rafe’s as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look directly at him.

topper and kelce continued their conversation, without missing a beat, they knew better than to cut in while rafe spoke with you, let alone, put you in your place, “watch your mouth,” rafe stiffly tapped your jaw with two fingers, “don’t fuckin’ embarrass me, a’ight,” he scolded, his peaked high now coming to a low point as you remained silent, your face twisted with a bitchy attitude.

completely influenced by the alcohol that coursed through your veins, you shifted your weight, licking over your dry and swollen lips as you ran your nails through your hair with a childish shrug, “you’re not my father,” you muttered, your words now ringing in rafe’s ears as he let out a huff, his body falling tense as he stood up, nearly knocking you over.

“m’gonna take her home,” rafe spoke, his tone a bit too calm as he grasped ahold of your hand, silently pulling you along with him.

your heels unevenly clicked against the pavement as you silently followed rafe, his hand nearly crushing yours as he pushed his way through the crowd of people, dragging you as if you weighed nothing. your beasts bounced with each step you took as you made it out of the house, the chill of the crisp midnight air hitting your exposed shoulders as rafe dropped your hand. the tall man remained silent as you continued to approach his truck, your chest radiating with warmth as he made it a point to open the passenger door for you, despite your bratty behavior.

you parted your swollen lips to speak, before rafe raised his hand, silencing you, “get in the car,” he spoke sternly, you quickly nodded, entering the car quietly as he slammed the door shut. you knew full and well that the moment rafe entered the car, you were absolutely screwed.

rafe was uncharacteristically quiet as he entered the car, his eyes focused on properly pulling out of the parking spot as you fiddled with your gifted chain. rafe knew upon meeting you that you were a sweet girl, yes, but a complete pushover? absolutely not. you were submissive enough in the relationship, to where he felt it perfectly balanced his naturally dominant demeanor, but he would be lying if he said that, you didn’t get under his skin when you played the role of a spoiled little girl.

he would never hurt you though, despite his past track record of becoming loose with his hands towards his former partners - you made that crystal clear when you started dating. so, you didn’t care if he roughed you up a bit, as long as he didn’t go too far with you. yet, you sat tense in the passenger seat, subconsciously grinding your teeth together as you mentally prepared for one of his repeated lectures, your lashes damp with awaiting tears as you waited for which selection of harsh words that rafe would hurl at you.

deciding to break the uncomfortable silence, rafe lets out an unamused chuckle, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead, “m’not your father,” he nods to himself, his tone mimicking yours from earlier, “no fuckin’ shit, but i’m the man who takes care of you, the one who-who makes you happy — keeps you safe, yeah?” he rambles, more so to himself, his hand lifting off of the leather steering wheel to motion towards you.

you licked over the fat of your bottom lip, parting your sticky lips to speak, before he raises his hand to silence you, “i don’t even do that shit as much as i used to, ‘cause last time i checked, you didn’t like how it made me big bad rafe, right?” he continued, taking a quick glance at you, ignoring the small pang of guilt that he’d felt, seeing your eyes welled with tears, “so tell me, princess, why the fuck would i let you try that shit?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised as he returned his hand back to the steering wheel, awaiting your answer.

you took a breath, quickly wiping your eyes, “i dunno, rafe, i just saw you do it a-and i was drunk, so i asked,” you cried, your voice thick as you struggled to steady out your shaky breathing. you hated confrontation, especially when it came to your boyfriend, he knew how deep his words could cut. “i just don’t know why you’re so mad at me,” you squeaked, tears falling onto your flimsy pink dress.

“m’upset because you act like a spoiled fuckin’ kid whenever you don’t get what you want,” rafe retorts, his voice stern as he pulls into the driveway of tannyhill, hastily parking the car, before exiting, allowing the door to slam closed as he made his way to the passenger side, opening the door for you, “lets go, m’tired and i have shit to do tomorrow,” he coaxed.

ꪆৎ

you decided to take a shower and do your obsessively thorough skincare routine, as means to kill time and think about just how you were going to get back in rafe’s good graces. he was stubborn, yet consistent, he hadn’t spoken to you since you entered the house, leaving you to do whatever you pleased as he silently made his way to your shared bedroom. so, you decided to pretty yourself up, you cleaned face, glowing from the array of serums and oils that you’d spent obnoxious amounts of money on, your swollen lips glazed from your gisou lip oil, freshly detangled hair falling down your shoulders. your body butter-nourished skin was clad in one of rafe’s t-shirts, nothing underneath as you were freshly shaved.

shutting off the bathroom light, you padded your way into the bedroom, where rafe sat quietly, resting with an arm behind his head as he kept his tired blue eyes focused on the random netflix show he’d selected for the duration of the evening. “hi, papi,” you called out softly, a pout pushing on your lips as he looked over you, before returning his gaze to the television.

with a roll of your eyes you walked over to the side of the bed where rafe laid, letting out a breath as you you straddled his hips, your bare slick sitting perfectly atop his exposed pelvis.

“s’not good for couples to go to sleep mad at each other, papi,” you cooed, arching your back as you laid against him, batting your wispy lashes at rafe as he looked down at you, bringing his hand to rest on the curve of your back. “i think you should be nice to me, i miss my sweet rafe,” you smiled cheekily, earning a low groan from rafe as you lightly bit his bottom lip, before quickly pecking his lips with a kiss.

your boyfriend sits unhumored, his face blank of any expression as he brings his hand to sit atop of the curve of your back, “yeah, well i miss when my girl wasn’t such a spoiled brat and spoke to me like she had some fuckin’ sense,” he countered, blinking as you let out a dramatic gasp, tilting your head to the side.

“i’m not spoiled, you treat me like i’m a kid,” you rolled your eyes.

“‘cause you act like one.” rafe sighs, lowering the volume on the television, leaning his head back against the sturdy headboard with a sleepy huff. truth be told, rafe could easily fall asleep in this position, but he knew that you wouldn’t leave him alone until he was ‘nice’ to you, “go to sleep, i have to wake up in a few hours,” he muttered, lightly patting your ass.

you didn’t give up, biting down into the swell of your bottom lip as you brought your face closer to rafe’s with a devious grin, “okay, but y’should know that i just shaved and i’m not wearing any panties,” you sang, to some avail as rafe slid his hand underneath your shirt, cupping the plush skin of your bare ass and exhaling through his nose as you cutely wiggled your hips.

“okay, y’know what since y’claim to be such a good girl — you could sit on my dick while i watch this show,” he smiled, lowering the waistband of his boxers just enough to allow his semi-hard cock to be freed, his mushroom tip hitting your lower abdomen as you smiled with delight - a win is a win.

“and you won’t be mad at me anymore?” you questioned, neatly spitting down onto rafe’s hardening cock, evenly spreading out the slick over his shaft, before you guided him inside of you, a low hum vibrating through you as his full length swallowed into your achingly wet pussy.

“nope, now just sit and go to sleep, okay mama?” he cooed, pulling you down to lean against his chest, letting out a groan as your hips shifted around him.

now full and content, you pecked your lips to rafe’s jaw, mumbling a low ‘love you’ before resting your head on his shoulder as you allowed the sound of his heartbeat to lull you into a dreamy nod. completely oblivious to how rafe would sneak kisses all over your face while you fell into a deep sleep, his large hand fiddling with your empty ring finger. he was tempted to fuck his hips up into yours, but he figured he’d saved that for when the sun decided to rise, relishing in your leaking warmth suctioning around his cock.