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jaegerbby · 7 months

Text

➳ quid pro quo

--͙[armin arlert x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 2756

╰┈➤ rundown; the last time you saw armin, you were telling him how much you liked him. it must be fate that you finally saw him again, right?

╰┈➤ caution; elements of NONCON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, manipulation, virginity loss (mentions of blood), rough sex, cream pie, unprotected sex, cervix fucking and belly bulge mentioned.

not proof read!

"you're a virgin?" you are speaking too loudly.

armin unsurely glimpses around before rubbing his nape. "yeah. is something wrong with that?"

you shake your head immediately. the last thing you want is to make him feel judged. but this is your armin. the same armin that happened to be in a relationship when you confessed. the same armin you left behind when you moved away.

the same armin that you are still pining after. you have not seen him since your confession. he chose his girlfriend over you, which was understandable.

in some fantasy world, he accepted your feelings and you lived happily every after.

that did not happen in this one.

"i'm a virgin too." you would have expected armin to have lost his somewhere along the line. he was handsome when he was younger although he was frail. but now, now he has filled out. now his shoulders are broad and his arms are carved with muscles.

"really? a pretty girl like you?" you jolt, still not use to speaking with him after the years that passed. especially hearing him call you pretty. he never called you that before.

"yeah." you swallow. "i never really thought about it." you fidget in your seat, tapping your finger on the coffee lid absentmindedly.

armin's hand reaches to cover yours, you look up and see ocean blue. but this ocean is dangerous and this ocean will draw you in and never let you out.

you would drown in it.

you have drowned in it once before.

"i think it was meant to be this way, you and me." he tilts his head with the sweetest smile, his lips are so pink, you find it hard to breathe. you cannot deny the fluttering of your heart.

you liked armin at a simpler time, when you were young and he made your cheeks ache with laughter. when he grasped your heart and made it beat.

it has to be destiny. it has to be.

like the stars aligned for you to reunite with him and have all the things you should have had before.

---

it was a lie. of course it was.

countless dates, countless midnight calls and loving talks. countless compliments and memories. you want to wipe it away. you trusted armin then, it was easy to trust him now.

so why are you here?

why are you here with his hands greedy all over your body, with so much experience it makes you sick?

why is he pounding into you like a man who is well versed in taking women?

he is inside you, you might not be a virgin anymore but his was long gone before tonight.

your eyes squeeze shut, turning your face away from him. you try, you really do. willing yourself to not be in this moment but it is so difficult when he is everywhere.

you can feel the heat of his spit staining your skin. his fingers squeeze every inch of your body that is left to his whim. he seems to crave memorising every inch of you.

your breasts, hips, waist, dusting your collar bones and gripping your neck. he does not leave any bit of you untouched.

how can he when he has desecrated your body and stuffed you full of his cock?

you can feel his breath and drops of his sweat as he fucks into you. you can feel the presence of his body over you. he has you beneath his shadow like a reminder of your place.

that you would have ended up like this, with him. whether you liked it or not.

you try so hard to ignore the thick heated cock that is being thrust into your leaking cunt, prodding your cervix and making your belly bulge.

your tightly shut eye lids do nothing to evade the fact that he is bare and throbbing inside of your cunt.

you are constantly reminded of how treacherous your body is with every squelch of your pussy and the liquid it is soaking him with.

your body is shaking, moving with every sharp and calculated hump of his hips against yours.

you are a muddled mess in his sheets, in his room, surrounded by his scent. your breath halts when you feel him lowering over you. his large, calloused hand tilts your head back, gripping your jaw.

"look at me." his voice is too sweet, it is what you would have thought before this but now you can hear just how crazed he is.

"open those pretty eyes and look at me." he grits his teeth, slamming his hips into yours so hard that it is painful.

your back arches with tension. tears leak from your eyes, clouding your vision of him but he is stroking them away and shushing you like he was made to be the epitome of kindness.

yet, he is fucking into you, stripping you of the virginity you prided yourself in. he is one big juxtaposition. so kind and yet so cruel.

he is goading you about the blood, about the amount of blood that is soaked over his entire cock just like the wetness dripping from you.

your face contorts in discomfort when his tongue dips into your mouth. "you're going to remember me, got me in your head and shaped to my cock." he grins.

there is blue eyes and blond hair. eyes you would stare into and finally feel safe, that shun with the most love you had ever received.

hair you would coax your fingers through to remind yourself he was there.

now, you are not quite sure where they went or if they were even real. he huffs a curse, shoving his length so harshly inside of you that you are scratching at his chest.

"it hurts." you cry, wishing he would be gentle like he had been before. wishing he would kiss away your tears and hold you close. you wish he would say sorry because you would forgive him.

but he does not.

instead he threads his large fingers in your hair, forcing your head back, it makes you hiss in pain, writhing under him with tears staining your cheeks.

"it's even, cause your pussy's squeezing me so hard it hurts." he smiles, voice completely mocking yours.

"loosen up." he crowds over you more, his tongue lapping over your swollen lips, your legs spreading more as he presses himself further against you.

"your cunt's so tight you're gna break my dick." he laughs. he laughs like this entire circumstance is some funny joke. it is a cruel one.

he is cruel but you hope and ache for him to be sweet again.

the tears you shed right now remind you of the day you told him you liked him and all he had to say was that he had a girlfriend. you were stupid then and you are stupid now.

you moan although you do not want to. you moan as his cock plunges into your sopping walls and your mind draws a blank.

"why didn't you wait for me? i was yours, i am yours. so why couldn't you give me two months, i wanted to make everything right and you left me." he grits, his mouth finding your neck to suck marks on your skin.

this is one of the happiest moments of his life. having you, being inside you. he had daydreamed about it. hearing you say 'i like you,' with teary eyes and the cutest voice was a moment he framed and kept in his heart.

he kept it at the forefront of his mind.

at that time, he wished he could have shoved those words back into your mouth. he wished he told you to wait. armin might be fucking you like he hates you but he does not. no, quite the opposite. he loves you dearly.

he could not break up with his girlfriend, he did not want to drive her to the point of no return. he was considerate of her so why were you not considerate of him?

he was going to be yours at the end of it. why did you not wait? why did you not be patient? it is all he wanted to ask of you. now years after. years without you. he has to punish you for it.

he has to. he loves you, he would never hurt you. but you hurt him.

his hands squeeze your body so hard like he needs to taint your skin in every way.

"this pussy is mine, always been mine. fuck, why would you keep her away from me?" your skin stings every time he presses back into you. your fingers knot in the sheets, gritting your teeth.

you feel it, you feel every bit of him. he sears through you and pulls your insides apart. you drip and leak and drench him although you wish you did not.

your mind is a mess.

your mind feels like it has been dismantled and put together in the wrong order.

it should not feel good. being stretched beyond your limit and having him touch you should be the last thing that feels good.

you spiral into depravity the longer he pounds into you. the longer his cock fills your aching hole and caresses your gooey walls.

his finger finds your clit and you jolt, his mouth meeting yours.

it is surprisingly gentle. it is surprisingly everything you ever wanted. he licks into your mouth, you feel too much. you feel too many things inside and have too many thoughts in your head as your body trembles and you cream on him.

as your cunt clenches and your stomach feels like it is filled with too many butterflies to contain.

"all fucking mine, fuck you're all mine. you're my baby." he breathily pants, his legs flexing as he fucks your through the overwhelming orgasm.

as your cunt grips and soaks him. all you think about is that he called you baby. he called you his.

you find yourself hoping he means it.

"so tight. how are you this tight?" his hands brutally grip your waist. "you kept it for me right? tell me you kept it for me." his cock pulses along your sensitive walls, you swear you feel him from the inside out.

"you knew i'd come and find you, you were waiting for me, weren't you?"

you are crying, the tears seem endless. they stream down your face and your sobs are watery.

why does he feel so good inside you?

why has he broken you to bits but still makes you feel whole?

some sick and twisted part of you was holding out for him, you were stupid to think he saved any bit of him for you too.

clearly he did not.

everything he does is confident, everything he does it looks like he has before.

he asks you so many questions and you do not answer a single one. even as he slams his hips to yours, even as you are dazed by the wet sounds of your pussy taking him over and over.

armin does not want to stop.

he curses.

his body lurching forward to cover you, shallowly pumping his hips. you feel it. you feel hot sticky strands pooling inside you and your teeth grit.

it makes you remember there was nothing between you and him. there was nothing stopping him from creaming your cunt and emptying his load inside you like he had been dreaming about for years.

he is covered in sweat, it drips from his blonde strands and trails down his temple. his hips stutter as he slumps onto you.

your face contorts in discomfort, you can feel your insides being sodden in unfamiliar liquid.

he lays over you, you want to clutch him to your chest and keep him close. you want to act like he never betrayed you. like this was the beautiful moment you wanted it to be.

you cannot move. you lay there, with armin weighing down your body and tears streaming from your eyes.

you feel him breathing, you feel him tilt his hips like he wants to ensure he has given you every last drop.

he presses a skin to your neck before he sits up on his knees.

you flinch as he keeps your legs spread for him to see, slowly easing his cock out of you.

all the cum that you could feel inside of you is now streaming from your slit endlessly. it us staining the sheets and your thighs and you can feel yourself getting sick.

nausea dizzies your head.

he leaves you there, sprawled out on his bed. cum on your body and a million emotions inside you.

he does not clean up himself much less you. instead he haphazardly wipes his dick with the already stained sheets and grabs a pack of cigarettes from his drawer.

"want one?" you cannot even look at him, you do not speak, you want to spend hours crying.

you wish to mourn the loss of all the things you had believed before this night.

"right, you're too good for this shit." he takes one for himself, placing it between the plush pink of his lips and lights it.

it seems there are many things he is used to doing.

"how was your first fuck?" there is no sugar coating, there is not an ounce of euphemism.

he leans against the head board, glancing over at your spent body before his free palm reaches over to you. you think he will pet your hair like he used to, dry your tears maybe even hold your hand but instead he is gripping the flesh of your breasts.

you squeeze his wrist the more he gropes you, wishing you could push him away, his touch should make you sick but it does not. it should make you hate him after everything he did but you do not.

a shaky breath escapes you. he places the cigarette to his lips.

inhale.

"i broke you in."

exhale.

"you can fuck as many guys as you want now."

you swear you stop breathing. your chest hurts and your eyes burn.

you struggle to compose yourself.

"a lot of em are talking about you." you squeeze his hand tighter. your body aches all over, you feel sticky and disgusting.

you sit up, cringing at the syrupy liquid that reminds you of it all. you practically drop your head into his lap, curling your legs closer to your chest before you start sobbing.

your shoulders shake and your sniffles are all too wrecked. as wrecked as you feel. as wrecked as he has made you.

armin's brows raise, still blowing out smoke before his hand rests on your back. trailing into your hair and petting you.

finally.

you should not want it, you should not want him to touch you, you should be pulling on your clothes and running away. you should be cussing him out but instead all you want is him close.

he stubs the cigarette before throwing it in the ashtray. his hands slip under your arms to sit you on his lap.

"who do you want to fuck?" you are crying harder, barely able to hold yourself up. your head slumps forward, hair hiding your face. but the loudness of your sobs is not something you can conceal.

"me?" you look up at him with the most miserable expression on your face. your eyes are swollen from crying and your lips are bitten raw.

yet you nod your head, you nod your head but it is not that question which you are answering, there are a million things you want to say but they do not come out.

instead they are broken cries, you have always wanted armin and for a minute he was yours but he broke you.

he betrayed you yet you cannot hate him. armin tries to dry your face but your tears are incessant.

he is so warm and he is so nice. his hair is pushed back for once and you find yourself thinking about how beautiful he looks.

he hums, pressing kisses to your face and tugging you into him.

"just you." you mumble. you only ever wanted it to be him. he squeezes you tighter.

"then, it will only ever be me." because you always get what you ask for.

his fingers lace with yours and you practically melt into him.

"just you and me."

i barely have time to write :((

#🩷.aot #san.stories #armin smut #armin aot #armin x y/n #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon #tw.dark content #aot #aot smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #armin x reader #armin arlert #shingeki no kyojin #tw.manipulation #tw.coercion

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mothwingwritings · 8 months

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Idk if you’re into omega verse but omg I just thought of it being applied to Yujiro and poor omega reader goddamn 😭 (I think I may have gone a little bit too far on this one ngl, also I’m half asleep so sorry for any issues..)

Nasty nasty Alpha Yujiro who takes advantage of poor little you. Who would have thought he’d ever encounter such a rare beauty? Omegas were practically extinct in the baki universe, the world full of hardened alphas made no room for the sweet soft omegas. And yet here you were against all odds.

From the moment he met you, he’d made the promise that he would never spread his seed through out the world.

Nay, he was going to hammer in his children into your fertile womb as you cried out in overstimulation. You would carry all of his offspring for the rest of your life. That was a promise.

While many of his past devoted lovers would have been flattered by his devotion, you were anything but.

Sure Yujiro would disappear on some days but no longer than a week.

But on the days he were in your house. It’d be a constant running away and fighting off the lustful touches of Yujiro.

The dreadful “Honey~ I’m home!~” had you cringing so hard as thick muscular arms surrounded your waist.

Having to take showers with the Ogre that always ended with you pressed up against the glass mirror as Yujiro crowded you against it.

Having your favorite clothes torn to shreds as he tried to make “love to you”.

Waking up in the middle of the night to see the humongous man deep in your guts as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

And when you went in heat…oh boy.

You’re horny 24/7 and you won’t fight back at all? Just lil ol you whimpering about how much it hurts and that you need something inside? You’d let the older man kiss you and cling onto him needily. His poor little omega!

Yeah, Yujiro loves your heats.

This man keeps a track record of when your heats are around the corner. It doesn’t matter if he’s in another country or across the globe the globe away from you. If he sees you have started your heat, he’s running like a madman with the nastiest smirk that has people running away screaming. They all thought he was out to murder someone (ya ur lil meow meow)

Out of spite you decide to hook up with some random beta when your heat starts up. Which immediately back fires when Yujiro has said man tied up as he watches you get plowed down by your real alpha.

“My little omega, have I neglected you so much that you seeked out some limp dick beta to satisfy you? I guess I’ll have to you more attention to keep you satisfied, huh?”

You know Yujiro is going to show you off. I mean, who wouldn’t?

He’s pulling up to the tournaments with you sitting on his shoulder clad in a thin bikini. Your looking away from the many lustful looks directed at you, all while Yujiro basks in the jealous looks he receives.

They all look so angry at him, but yet…too intimidated to muster the courage to say anything to him. Yes this was a fine idea.

He’s got you wearing a pretty diamond collar with the letters “Property of Ogre.”

Every time you both return from such fights, it didn’t matter if he came back angry or happy both were valid reasons to fuck you in the entrance your home. After that he would ravage you on any surface in the house.

He was going to get so many babies out of you.

Me reading this ask loool

You must have read my mind anon, I was just musing the other day on how I want to some day take a stab at writing an ABO fic and the Bakiverse would be perfect fodder for it. 😌

But God... Yujiro would be the worst fucking Alpha. That man could track you down from miles away, knowing where you are at all times should he need you. And he has such intricate knowledge on basically every aspect of you and your life that it goes beyond concerning, it's downright invasive. It takes no time at all for him to claim fuck you, giving you no time to really sus him out or get to know him before you've become irrevocably his. He's now your bonded partner, and you are not at all thrilled with that.

When yujiro comes to claim you he attacks you with such a bestial, feral intensity that you are afraid one day your body won't be able to take the abuse he inflicts on it, giving you serious concerns over whether you will survive the mating process. You got lucky the first time, but what about in the future? How many pups does he plan to pump inside of you? The thought keeps you up at night. You don't even want to parent his offspring, let alone be demoted to his breeding stock to be fucked full again and again and again. You would have chosen ANY alpha other than Yujiro, but now this was your lot in life-forced to not only be his mate, but bear his children, creating new versions of this monster to roam the planet. Would they grow up to be like their father, or would you have any hope of raising them to be decent, loving people?

Also, I feel like your body will just constantly be marked up everywhere. His mating bites don't stop at the scent glands, and you usually end up looking like you just left a 12 round boxing match on the losing side instead of a mating session with your alpha. :(

And when you are in heat its the absolute fucking worst. Lusting after Yurjiro, your entire body aching for him to desecrate and destroy you, your insides burning white hot for his touch. Only your alpha can cure you of this all consuming sickness that plagues you, and you turn into a whiny blubbery mess when Yujiro is around, pleading and begging for him to claim you. It's absolutely dreadful how much you yearn for such a barbaric man, and each and every time you are disgusted with how easily you give in to him. You just roll over and become his docile little fuck mate, turned into a wanton, lusting mess from just catching his scent alone. You loath him as much as you need him, and words cannot describe the amount of hate you hold in your heart for the man that turned you into this pathetic shell of who you once were.

#this is some of that good shit #thank you for indulging me anon love you mwah #abo verse #abo baki #yujiro hanma x reader #yujiro x reader #yujiro hanma x y/n #mothresponse #alpha yujiro

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corrodedcoffincumslut · 6 months

Text

Pairing - Eddie Munson X Gareth Emerson X Plus size Fem-reader 18+ content

Blurb- Friday nights are yours, Eddie & Gareth's smoke sessions, but after enduring the sexual tension of being the third-wheel to yours & Eddie's heavy petting something changes for virgin Gareth.

Warnings- SMUT - Over 18’s ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! M-F-M (P in V). Cream pie. Drug use Eddie, Gareth & Reader (Weed). Smoking. MMF threesome. Assplay. Squirting. Oral (M) Fingering. Loss of virginity (M). Daddy-kink. Consensual sharing of a partner (established relationship & best friend). Dom/Sub. Pet names. Choking. Possessiveness. Voyeurism. Pervy (if you squint). Reader has nipple piercings. Eddie has a PA piercing. No use of Y/N. Please let me know if I’ve missed any others.

Word count- 6.3k

Reader is referred to as "Bunnie" and is described as a plus-sized beauty (thick thighs, tummy & large breasts are all adored and worshiped here) and is referenced to have blue eyes. No description of hair colour.

*Please don't copy my work or repost on any other platforms without my permission. *Although I do appreciate likes, reblogs and comments if you've enjoyed my work!*

Authors note- This was a labour of love, its the first fic I started to write in the Bunnie-verse, but I couldn't seem to get it right and I'm somewhat of a perfectionist & terrible self critic so this fic has been in my drafts for well over 18 months. Finally I feel I did my idea justice. I hope anyway. Please enjoy and let me know, if you enjoy my ramblings again! Big thanks to my girl @bexreadstoomuch for proofreading (many many many times)!

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

Your heavy eyes blinked through the smoke haze which filled the inside of Eddie’s bedroom. At the foot of the bed, Gareth sat crossed legged, rolling another joint, before licking a wet stripe across the paper’s edge, sealing the green inside, twisting the end and lighting the tip, in what felt like one smooth swift move. You both giggled at the dumb jokes Eddie was chackling behind, you sat nestled in your boyfriend's lap, passing the joint between the three of you. Nearing the roach, you could feel Eddie’s hands start to wander, as they always did after several joints. Not wanting to make Gareth feel like the third wheel for what felt like the billionth time when you hung out, you pushed Eddie’s hands back towards your waist into the familiar hug from before.

Eddie, unhappy with your wriggling, squeezes you tight into his chest, almost too tight causing you to whine. “Eddieeeee, I can’t breathe…” you sign out, your face turning to the side. Which in hindsight only opened your neck up to be attacked in sloppy wet kisses by the floppy haired boy. “Sweetheart, you just make me so, so, well I think you can feel how you make me feel” he whined back into your neck as the kisses trailed down from behind your ear to the top of your collar bones. He was right, you could feel exactly how you made him feel, the firm reminder grinding into your lower back. Turning to face him you smiled, biting your lower lip between your teeth, muttering a small “hmmm” in agreement. “Such a tease” Eddie whispered only loud enough for you to hear.

Gareth fiddled and bit the skin of his fingertips, anything but to draw his attention back to the two of you, close, Eddie’s hands caressing the curves of your hips up to your breasts. Where he ghosted over the fullness of your tits, in an attempt to see your nipples peak at the touch, which successfully they did. Glancing over you to the bottom of the bed, you see the awkward boy fumbling with his hands, jealousy painted over his soft face. “Aaargghh come on guys, please don’t make me witness your stoned, horny foreplay again” he muttered, pulling himself off the bed and stumbling out of the room.

Feeling guilty you turned to face the wolfish grin painted on Eddie’s face, “Come on Eddie '' you sighed “Gareth’s right, he’s seen the outline of your boner waaay too many times already. It’s not fair on him, and I don’t wanna make him regret coming over to hang out again. I just don't see why the girls don’t flood to him though, he deserves someone he can blossom with. He’s cute, caring, smart and I remember from the pool last summer, those shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination” you smirked “I mean if we ever break up, hey I’ll give him a ride anytime”. Eddie started howling just as Gareth’s stunned face came into view, as he walked back in the room after grabbing a beer, hearing the majority of your confession.

“You know these trailers aren’t soundproof Bunnie, I thought you learnt that last time Wayne caught us, you know after the incident with the cuffs and the vibrator, the one whereee….” Eddie playfully teased. “EDDDDIIIEEE!” you whined cutting Eddie off before he could confess all your sins, “stop talking!” sealing it with a kiss, smiling. Gareth stood blindsided in the doorway, too stunned to speak, before butting in “You’d fuck me?! You? Bunnie, Eddie’s girl. The hottest chick I know would fuck me? I know I’m not swimming in pussy Bunnie, but don’t mock me. I can’t take it, and not with you guys banging like rabbits. You know I’m still a virgin, there’s me just beating off, into my hand off every day, that shit’s just cruel!” Gesturing to the growing lump between his legs.

Eddie turned to smile at you, whispering in your ear “you know we could always try that fantasy we spoke about?” taking your earlobe between his teeth nibbling at the soft skin between his teeth, before kissing down your neck, causing shivers to run down your spine. “Go on baby, tell Gareth again, how much you’d like to ride on his virgin cock. How you want us to take it in turns fucking your pretty pussy, until you’re scream both our names for the whole trailer park to hear”.

Red eyed and brain still hazed from the weed, you half lidded smiled at the thoughts swimming in your head. The dirty thoughts of Gareth’s shy face pressed deep between your legs as Eddie guided him on how to please you, until your vision got blurry and tears streamed from your eyes in blinding white hot pleasure.

Releasing you from his grasp Eddie watched from his place on the bed as you rose from his lap, feet gliding across the carpet over to Gareth. Grasping his shirt in your hands, your hands pressed into his chest. You leaned your forehead on his, your warm breath causing goosebumps to prick onto his skin and the baby hairs on the nape of his neck to erect. “Kiss me Gareth” you whispered into his mouth, before crashing your plump soft lips on his boyish chapped ones. A smile grew across your lips as you pulled back to stare into his glazed over eyes.

Eddie groaned from the bed behind you. Looking over your shoulder you saw him, rubbing his hard, thick cock over the rising tent of his sweats. Biting your lip and sliding your dewy tongue across, slipping your silver tongue bar between your teeth you giggled back at Gareth. Still shocked Gareth stared blankly into your eyes, almost forgetting to blink entirely.

“Cat got your tongue Gare-bear” you giggled, “Or was it Bunnie” Eddie interjected. The wolfish grin, ever present on his angular face. “Kiss her again Gare, she likes it when you’re rough. Go on, and slip her some tongue this time. I wanna see her squirm like she does for me”.

Snapping out of his state of shocked hypnosis, growing in confidence at Eddie's encouragement, he placed his hands on your waist as he pulled you in. Placing a hand on your cheek, “Are you okay with this Bunnie?”, enticing a nod from you he smashed his lips back on yours once more. You feel his silken tongue skim across your plump bottom lip, probing for entry into your warm mouth. Inviting him in you suck on the tip of his tongue, eyes falling closed with delight as you feel him tangle it back with yours. Gareth’s kiss was tender and encasing, making the world outside of your field of vision drift away to nothing.

Only the groans of Eddie bring you back to reality, as he approaches you from behind, smacking his big firm hand on your ass, rubbing the fat rounded curves. ”Sweetheart, you’re making me jealous all alone over there. Sprinkle some of that sugar on me, would you?” Feeling his curls tickle your shoulders you broke away from Gareth’s lips, to turn back to kiss Eddie’s inviting puffy lips instead. Eddie’s hands slid over your round hips, following your curves down your thick thighs. “God Bunnie, you’re so fucking sexy, you ass looks sinful in those jeans” pulling the tough fabric against your legs, feeling the denim snapping back to your skin causing you to jump. “Undo the front button Gare, let us see you in all your beautiful glory baby” Eddie said.

Reaching for the front button of your jeans with shaky hands Gareth undid the offending jeans as Eddie pulled them down your legs, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down the backs of your legs, until they pooled at your ankles on the floor. Standing between the two men in your black lace panties, one of Eddie’s old tattered Black Sabbath shirts now barely covered your voluptuous cheeks. “So, so fucking sexy, don’t you agree Gare” Eddie’s gruff voice growlled for you both to hear. Gareth hummed in agreement, still in disbelief of the situation he found himself in on a usual Friday evening hangout, with the unusual added twist of his best friend allowing him to share his girlfriend for the night.

Turning back, leaning back into Eddie’s touch you found yourself rubbing your hands over Gareth’s chest following the lean lines of his little podge tummy, luring the familiar squirming Eddie had commented on before to his friend. “Lose the shirt too Bunnie, you know I can’t resist those perfect big tits you’re keeping from us, and I know Gareth’s had many a night thinking about them too. I’ve caught him staring enough times, drool practically dripping from his chin” Eddie teased, pulling the hem of the shirt up over your head lifting your arms to allow him to remove it. You complied with his actions. “You’re being so good for us Bunnie” Eddie cooed.

Succumbing to Eddie’s words, you felt exposed and vulnerable between the fully clothed men boxing you in. Eddie pulled at the hem of your shirt, tugged the tatted item up and over your shoulders, allow him to fully remove the offending clothing. Your soft breasts falling out, jiggling with the movement, pert pierced nipples hard from the cool air you’d been exposed to. Silver bars catching Gareth’s eyes, his focus now solely on your tits, a vision he thought he’d never see outside his own head, silver bars through each, causing Gareth’s cock to grow ever harder. Eddie pulled you back onto the bed, placing himself at the headboard, inviting you to sit between his legs once more. Gareth followed, stumbling forward, kneeling at your feet. Eddie thrust your milky thighs apart, fully exposing your wet, ruined panties to Gareth.

“Awww sweetheart you’re soaking, what’s got you this worked up already. Was it thoughts of your little Gare-bear taking care of you?” Eddie patronised in your ear, hot breath dancing over the skin. Open mouthed kisses landed on your neck, as Eddie’s nibble fingers wound into the hem of your panties. Running his nimble fingers through your folds, his fingers now covered in your slick. “Gonna take these off now Bunnie, s’that okay with you?” Eddie checked in for your welcomed consent. You nodded again. “Gonna need some words baby, if you want this to go further '' Eddie encouraged, chin tucked in, looking over his brows. “Yes”, you huffed out “please, please I want this”.

Hooking his thumbs over the top of the lace, he slowly pulled your panties down over your plush round hips. The slick, soaked centre sticking to the centre as he pulled them down your smooth inked legs, before throwing them in Gareth’s face. “You alright there Gare” Eddie ridiculed, “You’re staring bud, what’s wrong never seen a pussy this pretty before, is that it? Better than any of porn mags is this, ain’t that right Bunnie? Bestest pussy I’ve ever tasted” he groaned “so sweet, so warm, so tight, so inviting”.

Eddie ran his fingers through your glistening folds again, through the lines of your sweet cream. Fingertips grazing over your entrance, causing a light shudder to fall down your spine and a yielding moan to fall from your lips. Your head fell back again into Eddie’s shoulder as his fingers pushed back up to your swollen bud. Tracing small figures of eight over the hardened nub, tingles and deeper moans falling from your mouth once more. The echoing pressure building in your stomach, the coil tightening with every relentless pass. Swift fingers dipped into your entrance fucking you onto his thick appendages, whilst his thumb took over the tight circles on your clit. A long groan spilling from your lips. Eyes slammed shut you breathed through your gritted teeth, coaching you through the satisfaction of what you were craving. “Don’t stop baby, I’m close” you whined into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie reached forward grabbing Gareth’s hands, bringing them to your throbbing core. “Touch her Gare, she’s so close, go on, feel her.” Gareth’s fingers almost trembled at the lightest touch on your slick folds. Eddie guided his fingers up to the swollen bud again, rolling the nib between both their fingertips. “That’s it Gare, just press right there” Eddis softly spoke. Gareth’s face shone with amazement as you writhed under their shared touch, breathy moans singing from your throat. All of a sudden you shuddered, shaking, climbing rapidly towards your high. A silent moan echoed as you hit the peak. Your face contorting, eyes squeezed tightly shut and pressed to O shape.

“That’s it sweetheart” Eddie cooed in your ear “Gonna give us another?” You nodded, head still swimming under the water. Continuing the punishment on your clit, and pussy, another strangling moan reverberated out your pink lips. Eddie plunged his fingers in and out, the pace intoxicating you further down the rabbit hole into pure sinful pleasure, overstimulation is starting to set in. “Eyes open Bunnie, I want Gareth to see those baby blues when you come for us again”. Peeling your eyes open to meet Gareth wanting ones, staring back into your tearful ones. Tear drops threatening to overspill your lashes as you came with another cry. Intaking heavy breaths to try and keep yourself grounded.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for us baby” Eddie muttered into your ears through his own heavy breaths. The constant bulge in your lower back twitching pressed into your damp skin. Glancing down you could the same reaction from Gareth, a growing damp patch of pre-cum seeping through the fly of his jeans. Eddie smiled a merciless grin again and your eyes widened at the sight, your strong tongue gliding across your lip taking it between your teeth as you looked back up to his boyish face.

“I wanna taste you” you said in awe to Gareth. “You heard the lady, Gare. You don’t wanna leave our little Bunnie waiting any longer, do you? Eddie enlivened. Gareth began stripping himself of his clothes quicker than you thought humanly possible. Ripping the hem of his Judas Priest shirt over his fluffy curls, shaking his hair down like an excited puppy through the neckhole. Fiddling with the button and fly of jeans with sticky fingers, ripping them down his strong muscular thighs, sprinkled with sparse brunette hairs. Kicking them off to the side, throwing his trainers with them. Leaving him in his red checked cotton boxers, large protruding tent front and centre.

You reached forward the palm over the clothed bulge, wiggling your fingertips tickling his balls, causing the boy to groan and gasp. “Always wanted to taste you Gare, you have such a pretty face. I’m glad I’m the one who's going to ruin you for every other girl after. I’m gonna blow your mind Gare, an’ your cock. Do you want that Gare? Your big fat cock stuffed in my pretty mouth” you purred, your fingers creeping over the elastic reaching down to grasp your fingers around his length. Gareth’s firm cock, didn’t feel as thick or long as Eddie’s but it definitely wasn’t small. You ran your fingers up and around his shift, feeling around 6 and halfish inches, with thick pulsing veins running up the sides.

Gareth gasped as you held a firm hold on his cock, slowly moving your hand up and down the shaft to get him used to the sensation. Your nails brushed against the curls at the base, running your fingertips through the hairs before going down to cup his aching balls. The soft skin was warm in your palm.

“Fuck” Gareth whispered out, head falling back to the ceiling,“your hands feel so soft Bunnie”. You giggled, looking up at the blissful blush painted across Gareth’s cheeks.

“Take these off for me please, Gare-bear. Wanna see you in all your glory now”, you parroted Eddie’s words. Gareth slowly pulled down his well-worn cotton boxers, his cock springing out and to attention. Your eyes fixated to his leaking cock, drool gathering in your mouth at the taboo thoughts of two best friends fucking you.

“Aww Bunnie, you're teasing him” Eddie cooed from the headboard, hand now palming himself over his jeans. “Why don’t you show him what a good girl you are, like when you suck Daddy’s cock”.

Your pleading eyes met Gareth’s blown out pupils. “Can I use my mouth on you Gareth?” you sweetly asked. “Sure Bunnie, I erm, sure yeah, I’d love that” he mumbled, still unbelieving this was happening. “Just sit back, if there’s anything you don’t like, let me know, yeah” you softly spoke. Placing a tender kiss on his lips.Gareth nodded in agreement.

Leaning down you kissed the tip of Gareth’s leaking cock, licking the pearls of pre-cum and swallowing them with a “hmmm”.

“Does he taste good, Bunnie?” Eddie called from behind, now folded over your back, placing a line of kisses down your spine. Shivers rickersahed through your body. Eddie’s fingers danced over your hips and waist and you pushed Gareth cock into your warm, wet, wanting mouth. Tongue licking the underside from base to tip, flicking Gareth’s frenulum. A hiss through his teeth at the sensitivity. Grinning you swallowed him, taking his whole length in your mouth, head beginning to bob up and down. His mouth curls tickling your nose on every bob of your head. You could hear encouraging hisses and groans from above.

Eddie now face buried in your ass, lips left wet open mouthed kisses across your peachy fullness, firm hands pulling your cheeks apart to see your tight hole. “Fuck Bunnie, you gonna let me play your ass, while you play with Gareth. Daddy loves watching you squirm, Princess.”

“Mmmm yeah Daddy, please” you moaned in replied lips leaving Gareth’s cock moment, as a big glob of spit travelled down your ass welling in your tight hole, lighting your super sensitive hole on fire with desire. Eddie’s fingers circled your puckered asshole, teasing the pressure as his finger slipped into the first knuckle, A loud moan ripped through your throat “Fuccckk” you cursed, your body shuddering as your mouth wrapped again round Gareth’s dripping cock, head bobbing back into a steady rhythm. Eddie continued to massage your tight hole, slowly pushing his fingertip in and out, spitting down between your cheeks again occasionally, to keep it slick. Teasing nibbles landing on your ass cheeks, as Eddie’s firm hands massaged your voluptuous peachy behind and slipping below to tease your clit some more.

Gareth was rapidly falling apart, soon to be losing control. His hands grasped your head, fingers tangled in your hair. “Fuck Bunnie, its to good. I don’t wanna cum just yet” he blurted out, worry slung across his face.

Releasing his cock from your flushed lips, you smiled, pulling yourself back and sitting on your heels. “Good boy” you praised, “so sweet for me” your sweetly smiled. “Do you want me to give me Teddy some attention whilst you calm down a little, then you can fuck my pussy when you feel ready, hmmm? I just wanna take care of you, don’t feel pressured though. We can stop anytime”. Honey dripped from your words.

How could you be this sweet to him, after all the times he’d heard you and Eddie fucking, it seemed slower, more sensual, all soft edges for him. You cared for him, you really cared he felt comfortable and safe. The decisions were his, but guided by you and Eddie. His best friend and his best friend’s insanely hot, sinfully curvaceous, loving girlfriend.

Gareth nodded in agreement, your sweet smile reassuring his anxiety. Turning your head to Eddie, your sweetness illuminating his face, sacrilegious smile fixated on his gleaming back at you. “Show me the goods, Big boy” you purred, crawling up the bed towards Eddie’s lap. “Someone’s awakened the minx in you today, Bun” he teased, as your hands hastily pulled his blue plaid boxer shorts down his thigh, unleashing Eddie’s rock hard cock. Hitting his stomach with the wet slap, precum beading at the tip. “Offft” Eddie gasped “easy Princess, don’t damage the goods!” Eddie joked. Eddie’s big hands encasping your face pulling you in, chapped, bitten lips meeting your plump, fleshy ones. Eddie’s tongue lazily swept over your bottom lip, before pushing forward into your soft, wet mouth. Releasing you with a smack of his lips again, a saccharine smile stretched across his face. Dreamy pools of chocolate stared back into yours, losing yourself in the black irises.

Gareth’s chokes shook you back to reality, “Fuck Ed’s, I didn’t know you’d got a piercing down there?” Gareth’s shocked questioning made you giggle. “Yeah, got it a few months back, when I was last up in Indy at the tattoo shop” Eddie laughed, “Thought fuck it, heard it good for the ladies and I know Bunnie here agrees” Eddie’s eyes flicked to your blushed face, “...and I mean why not adorn the trouser snake, it’s pretty metal right?” Eddie gestured to the circular ring through the end of his hard cock, the silver twinkling like a beacon in the dim light. Gareth was definitely straight that he knew, but he had to agree it did look great.

Your small hands gripped Eddie’s shaft, fingers running up the length and back down, teasing touches before you kissed the tip, featherlight. Kitten licking his slit, tongue wrapping the ring before softly sucking on the bulbous head. Eddie groaned in pleasure, head thrown back into the headboard, if he wasn’t so high and distracted he would definitely be in pain from the impact. “Fuck that’s hot” is all you hear above Eddie’s moans. Gareth’s awestruck face watching the scene before him. Stroking his own cock, whilst he switched between gazing at your puffy wet pussy, slick covered plush thighs and head bobbing up and down the length of Eddie’s cock.

Hollowing your cheeks you sucked harder on Eddie’s dick. Gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail in his hands, lightly guiding you up and down on his length. “Shiiittt, Bunnie, your mouth feels so good princess” Eddie praised above you. “Always such a good slut for Daddy, that’s it, always take my dick so well.” Humming vibrations swelled in your throat as you took Eddie deeper in your throat. Your free hand drifting lower to cradle Eddie’s full balls in your hands, rolling them between your nimble fingers, gently squeezing the skin in your palm.

Usually you could spend all night with Eddie’s firm cock weighing on your tongue, but right now you were so turned on, the thoughts of two sets of hands caressing your skin, two mouths lapping over on your erect nipples and two piercing cocks splitting you open, watching you crumble and come undone. You needed more. Releasing Eddie’s cock from your lips, you satback on your knees, pushing your hair over your shoulder as Eddie let go and replaced your mouth with his own guitar calloused, motor oil stained hands.

Glancing over your shoulder at Gareth with wide eyes you softly spoke, “Want you Gare-bear, want you inside me” seduction dripping from every word. “Want you to fuck me, want your cum”, your hands playing with your budding nipples, lightly squeezing the bars through each, pulled and pressing into your heavy breasts, teasing yourself. Turning yourself round you crawled back over Gareth, sitting firm in his lap. Leaning in hot breath on his neck, placing wet kisses up the column of his throat. “You want me to ride you pretty boy?” you questioned, wide doe eyes looking at him.

Nodding Gareth placed his trembling hands over the podgy skin of your waist and hips, finger tips pushing into the squishy flesh, massaging the fat there adoringly. “Yeah Bunnie, please, please ride me, it’s all I’ve thought about every time we’ve smoked. Always wanted this, wanted you, but I thought I’d never get this, Eddie knows that. Always been jealous of you two” Gareth hushed out, glancing over to Eddie behind now behind you kissing your upper back and neck, his rough hands running up and down your spine. “It’s true Bun, should have seen his face after I told him we made it official, felt like I’d kicked a puppy”.

Rolling your head back to meet Eddie’s shoulder, Gareth’s hands wandered up to grasp your breasts, replacing yours mirroring your previous movements. “You want me to fuck you raw or I can get you a condom, we have some, Eddie can you grab one, I mean its your first time so it’s not like your not clean, I’m on the pill so ya know that’s not a issue…” you began to ramble, serious undertones checking consent before taking the plunge. “Yes, god yes” Gareth abruptly interrupted, “Jesus yes, I wanna fuck you so bad, please I wanna know what it really feels like, no barriers Bunnie please!”

Gareth’s impatience filled you confidence, adjusting your legs, your doughy thighs straddled Gareth’s hairy muscular ones, tense from years of drumming. Hovering your awaiting sopping pussy over his pearling cock, you rubbed his pink mushroom head through your soaked folds, rutting against your overly over-stimulated, sensitive clit. Causing all the air in the lungs to escape you, a deep breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “You ready, handsome?” you whispered in his ear, lips tickling the shell of his ear, before looking into his eyes to check consent. Gareth’s hands held your hips as he nodded, his own breath stuck in his throat, stuttering a simple “yes, please”.

Lowering yourself down until Gareth’s mushroom tip pushed past your slick folds, you moaned at the intrusion. “Congrats Gare, you’re no longer a virgin” you giggled, sinking further down to hilt. “How’s it feel, buddy? Like warm apple pie? Like kisses from ya momma?” Eddie joked from behind you, cock in hand lazily stroking himself. “Fuck off Eddie” Gareth breathed out laughing. Reaching back you playfully shoved Eddie, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. After giving Gareth a minute to adjust to the wet warmth of your cunt, you began to move. Grinding down against his slender hips, building that sweet friction you desired to climb the hill of pleasure. “Fuck” Gareth sighed out, lolling his head back. “Jesus, this feels good”. “Mmm yeah, you feel good Gare, stretching my tight pussy out” you moaned out, placing your lips on Gareth grounding yourself as you rocked back and forth chasing your high.

Eddie’s deft hands found their way up your waist, rub and up over your tits, rolling your pert nipples between his fingers, you squeaked in pain and pleasure. Pulling and massaging the supple fullness of your supple breasts. Feeling the knot in your stomach begin to tighten again you started slowly bouncing on Gareth cock, letting him almost slip out before smashing your hips back down, the drag of his cock rubbing against your spongy spot, erupting gasps and moans falling from you lips as Gareth kissed your neck. Sinking deeper in the drowning pleasure of two mens attention entirely on you. “Good girlll…such a fucking good girl for us Bunnie” Eddie growled, extending the sound of the first L. Feeling needy you whined tilting your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder again, chasing his kiss.

Locking lips with Eddie, his cock now nudging your lower back and he helped guide you bouncing on his best friend cock. Gareth’s face was scrunched in concentration. Endless moans and gasps harmonising with yours, hands glued to the fat of soft your hips, grabbing the flesh and holding it tight. You knew you’d probably have bruises from his fingertips, but it was worth every purple mark he’d leave you as a reminder.

The knot in your stomach felt impossibly tight now. “Need to cum Ed’s, please” you whined. “Oooohh Sweetheart, so soon, you’re such a good girl letting us know. Go on, cum for us princess. Reward Gareth for making you feel so good with your cum, cream on over his big, thick cock for me” Eddie cooed. More harmonic whimpers and moans fell from your open lips, “I’m gonna cum… oh mmm… I’m cumming” you sweetly moaned. Eddie rewarded your permission by kissing your cheek as you fell forward, your body quaking in Eddie’s hands gripping firmly over Gareth’s shoulders to keep you upright.

Your nails leaving crescent moon imprints in his skin, as your orgasm washed over you. Your pussy cramped, milking Gareth’s cock as you chanted his name as you came. “Good fucking girl, look at you. All messy for us'”, Eddie praised as he kissed your shoulder, one, two, three times on a descending trail. Gareth immediately came after you, white spurts white washing your quivering, gummy walls. “Fuckkkkk Bunnie.” Gareth panted, trying to catch his breath gathering his thoughts, as he came back to earth. “That was amazing, God you’re so hot, I can’t believe we did this. Woah, shit, uh huh, yeah? Gareth John Emmerson, virgin no more. Certified sexually active male!” Thanks Bunnie, that's the hardest I’ve ever came. Does it always feel that good? Like, shit, wow” Gareth grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. You replied “You’re welcome Gare '' giggling, “Lost ya V-card now, finally. You stud! It was good yeah, you made me cum, so you’ve better than the guy I lost my virginity too. But you'll have to excuse me, I gotta take care of my Teddy now", a saccharine smile painted on your face and you turned your head to face your floppy haired sex demon of a boyfriend.

Feeling your combined spends dripping from your stuffed, spasming hole, you lifted yourself up off Gareth’s softening cock, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose before turning your attention towards Eddie. “Ooh Bunnie, are you still feeling lovey-dovey and fuzzy, or do you need your Daddy to show you who you really belong too?” Eddie’s hushed tones made chills run down your spine. Placing a messy kiss on your lips, all teeth and tongue. His hands grasp at the soft meat of your thighs, “Get over here now” pulling you into his lap.

Harsh kisses engulf your mouth as his hands come to hold the side of your head, fingers slayed to temples, thumbs tucked under your jaw. “My sweet girl” Eddie growls, pushing you back onto the worn threadbare sheets, under his weight. The instant your skin touched the butterscotch cream cotton, Eddie was on you, wet kisses and stripes of spit now adorning your neck and chest. Leaning back on his heel, head forward, his hair curtaining the devilish smirk prancing across his brow.

He plunged himself in you, leaving you no time to adjust, fucking into your sopping, creaming heat. Hands pinning you by the throat, to the mattress, your eyes spun back into your eye. Wrapping your legs around his slim waist, you pushed against his perfectly tight ass, driving him even further inside your spasming, saturated cunt.

The possessiveness of Eddie shook you, but you’ve never felt so exposed and turned on. Gareth’s eyes wide, softening cock now rapidly refilling with blood, blush creeping deep pink, up his neck and cheeks. Eddie fucked his best friend’s spend further inside you, the wet squelching sounds echoing throughout the room, as Eddie’s heavy balls slapped against your dribbling ass cheeks and sticky thighs. “Fuck Bunnie, you feel fucking amazing sweetheart. You like it when Daddy fucks Garebear’s cum inside you? Yeah, yeah I bet you do, I’m good to my princess, letting her play with her fuck toys. But don’t forget you’re mine!” Eddie growled through gritted teeth whilst pounding into your aching pussy. “My little sweet fuck toy. Daddy’s…little…cum…slut”, Punctuating each word with a harsh thrust.

Eddie fucked you at a relentless pace, he’d never been this rough before, it almost scared you, but definitely thrilled you most. Your pussy was throbbing at an alarming rate, the usual pattern of your orgasm being overtaken by an unignorable pressure in your pelvis. Every stroke of Eddie’s cock against your gummy walls, ascending you higher to your rapture, until it became too much to handle. “Eeeedddddiiiieeee, Mmm, Eddiie” you whimpered between harsh deep breaths. “Can’t hold it any more, I need to cum. Need to cum for you baby, please I need to cum” you pleaded. “Yeah cum for me princess, cum all over Daddy’s cock, my sweet girl.��

Releasing a silent scream, your eyes clamped shut. You suddenly felt a flooding wetness pouring between your thighs. Your own spend expelling from your creamy cunt, and dripping down your tighter hole below. “Ffffffuuuuuccccckkkkk Bunnie” Eddie gasped. “You’re fucking perfect, squirting all over Daddy’s cock. Sweetheart, I fucking love you Princess. I fucking love these perfect, big tits, I fucking love this fat ass and I fucking love this tight pussy” Eddie grappled and grabbed the fat of your waist as he sat back on his heels, watching his throbbing soaked cock, pumping in and out of you your wetness. Your spend still gushing down his cum gutter hips while each thrust forward. Your creamy spend matting the tight brunette curls at the base of his aching cock. Tilting his head back in pure bliss himself as your pussy massaged his cock. “That's it princess, keep squeezing my cock. Milk my cock. You want my cum, Sweetheart? You want Daddy’s cum too? Where do you want me to cum, my sweet girl?” Eddie questioned. “Inside Daddy, fill me full of your cum too, please. Please I want your cum Daddy, please, please, please. Need it please” you babbled, between soft whimpers and moans of ecstacy.

Eddie pounded into you a few more harsh thrusts, snatching all the breath from your lungs, until a throaty growl ripped from his own chest. One fuck into your pulsating soaked sex, he erupted inside you, coating your aching centre with his scent. Followed by three shallow jolts, fucking his spend deeper inside, a shiver rolling down his spine at the force he came with.

“Christ, Bunnie” Eddie huffed, head hanging down, catching his breath as his heart rate began to steady. “Fuck you trying to kill me here, since when could you squirt!? I’m a mess baby, you’ve made such a mess, my dirty, sweet girl” Eddie leant down over your heaving boneless form, placing a soft kiss to your lips, you giggled breaking the spell of haziness.

“Fuckkkk.” Another voice spoke.

Remembering the last hour of your life, both you and Eddie suddenly remembered the third in the room. The man you’d just taken the virginity of. In front and with the permission of your boyfriend. The man who’s now softening dick was slipping out of you. The crash back to reality dawning on your slightly stoned, post-orgasmic, purple hazed brains. The complications which could occur following this impulsive, drug-fueled decision.

“That… That, was hottest shit I’ve ever seen. How’d you do that man? How’d you make her do that? Bunnie, Bunnie how?” You could see Gareth’s mind untangling, the bewilderment evident on his face. The complete confusion baked into Gareth's face, made you and Eddie break into cackling laughter. Eddie rolling over and falling off the bed in a fit of convulsing giggling, kicking his legs at his friends expense, His sweaty mane, stuck to his pretty features.

After regaining his composure Eddie replied, “Just the prize of being a pure, unadulterated sex god, like me I guess Gare. You'll get there buddy, it just takes some practice, right Bunnie?” He chortled.

“Sure thing Eds, if you say so” you grinned back, hiding your face in your hands. Gareth's face is still frozen in a picture of awestruck shock. Standing off the bed, you addressed your lovers, “Look boys, I’m gonna grab a shower. How about you put your dicks away and roll me another blunt, I deserve to be doted on hand and foot after that performance, I also require a dr pepper and candy, please” your pleading eyes looking at Eddie & Gareth, before heading off to the bathroom of the clammy trailer.

“Welcome to the world of women Gare, this is the price we pay. You’re gonna be a slave to the pussy now, buddy.” Eddie joked, slapping Gareth on the back and he jumped up and followed you to the bathroom. “Gareth’s got it honey, I’ll help scrub your back sweetness”, Eddie threw a wink at Gareth before shutting the bathroom door and sliding the lock.

Gareth groaned looking down at his softening cock, realising he’d come a second time over his stomach, too frozen by the scene in front of him to register his own excitement spill again. Ropes of dripping white down his abs and in his treasure trail of curls. “Slave to the pussy? Shit, he’s got that right!” Gareth muttered to himself, cleaning his pearled stomach with an abandoned shirt. Reaching for the papers, grinder, Eddie’s weed and tobacco. “Slave to the god, damn, pussy! And it's not even mine! Whipped for another man’s girlfriend. I’m so fucked.”

“Edddddiiiiieeee, stop! Stooooop! No more! You’re insatiable!” Gareth could hear your giggles from inside the shower, Eddie’s wet kisses and lips circling, sucking and licking over your peaked nipples under the water stream. Groaning, he fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes to dull the ache that shot straight to his stiffening dick again.

“I’m so very FUCKED” he thought to himself.

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 1 year

Text

blasphéme

masterlist | part 2 to ‘for i have sinned’

priest!wanda maximoff x reader

18+ : religious themes, sex in a public place, degradation, spanking with an object, slapping, general manhandling from Wanda, dom!wanda, spit kink, choking, strap use (r!receiving) coochieism

a/n : absolute ick that these are genuine bible quotes; also i haven’t written anything for so long so this is a bit shit :/

“I also want the women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, adorning themselves, not with elaborate hairstyles or gold or pearls or expensive clothes…”

The priest spoke at the front of the church, glasses perched on the end of his nose, voice gravelly and grating with wrinkled fingers gliding over the ink of the pages as he read. You could only groan internally at the verse he recited, avoiding Wanda’s smirk beside you whilst her hand slid up your bare thigh. Goosebumps littered your skin as her nails scraped upwards, pushing the fabric up your legs in the secrecy of the back pew.

She sat beside you in the back row, behind the crowd of people listening to misogynistic sermons from the unbearable old man at the front. And her fingers inched upwards, hand resting on your upper thigh beneath the skirt she was so adamant you weren’t allowed to wear in church, squeezing the flesh with her nails leaving crescent marks behind.

“But with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God.”

Wanda smiled amusedly at your scoff with idle stroking of the backs of her fingers across your skin, occasionally daring to push up against your underwear while you squirmed in your seat.

“A woman should learn in quietness and full submission.”

It was Wanda’s turn to huff a laugh at this, locking eyes with you with a knowing uplift of her eyebrows and a glance at your skirt and your red painted lips.

“This memo must have slipped right past you.” She whispered with a teasing pinch at your skin and a silenced chuckle at your glare and the yelp you tried to hide with a cough when her hand pushed into your clothed cunt.

Safe to say she didn’t try to take it easy on you for the remaining time, what felt like hours of Catholic drivel was made more unbearable by the so-called priest beside you. Though she carried herself as a pure and innocent being with that collar around her neck, smiling to the church goers she recognised, feigning an interest in the sermon while her hand took up the space between your legs. You were no longer fooled by her façade, even finding it amusing how false she could be. Shaking hands with the regulars mere hours after they were squeezing at your throat while your lips were claimed by hers.

The sight of people standing to make their way to the exit of the church had never looked so glorious, you couldn’t take the teasing for much longer, Wanda could feel the wet patch growing on your underwear and disguised her knowing smirk as a smile of fondness to the patrons who greeted her as they left.

“C’mon church girl, help me set up for this afternoon.” She winked mockingly once you were left alone in the incense smelling room.

She laughed at the roll of your eyes but you did as you’d learned to do over the past couple of months, bibles were neatly placed along the benches ready for Wanda’s service and everything was straightened out. She watched from beside the altar with her elbow leaning against the table, focused on your every movement which she knew made you uncomfortable.

“Do you have to stare so much?” You asked her as you walked up to wear she stood cockily, she only hummed in affirmation with a nod while her eyes peered at you over the top of the silver plated goblet pressed to her lips.

Her lips shone with a layer of deep red when she pulled it away and it took you by surprise the way she grabbed your jaw in one swift movement, pushing your head backwards as she inched closer.

Wanda looked at you expectantly, you wish you didn’t cave so easily under her stare but you slackened your jaw for her, parting your lips for the earthy red wine to spill from her mouth to yours in an act of dominance she grasped at as often as she could. You swallowed it with a gulp, keeping your eyes trained on hers.

“What did I tell you about wearing this skirt, hm?” She hissed through gritted teeth, you felt yourself shrink at her tone. “And this lipstick.” She tutted, a condescending smile upturning her lips whilst a harsh swipe of her thumb smeared the red across your cheek. “You look like nothing but a cheap whore. Is that how you want people to see you, huh? Is that how you wanna be treated?”

“You’re overreacting.” You muttered. You knew better than to retaliate, you knew it was coming, the slap against your cheek. Palm hitting against your skin, stinging as your head was jutted to the side and tears welled in your eyes at the feeling.

The way her hand gripped your arm made you hiss out in pain, feet scuffing against the ground as you stumbled at the shove she gave you, catching yourself with your hands pressed against the back of the nearest pew. But before you had any chance to speak, to move, to do anything, a loud smack landed itself on your upper thigh.

It echoed around you and you bit back a whine at the pain with the gritting of your teeth, there’s no doubt you’re going to be left with a bruise, especially because another blow landed against your flesh only seconds later.

“What, you’re gonna beat obedience into me with a fucking bible?” You uttered, glancing at the black, leather bound book in her hand. You were pleased to see her throw you a genuine smile with her laugh but you winced at the soft touch to your welting skin.

“You’re lucky I’m rather fond of you, sweetheart.” She breathed, letting the book land back onto the wooden bench with a thud. She closed the space between you until you could feel the bulge in her trousers against your ass and her front pressed against your back when she moved close enough for her lips to brush against the shell of your ear as she whispered. “And behold, a woman comes to meet him dressed as a harlot and cunning of heart.”

Her voice was rasped and harsh, breath hot against your skin and you couldn’t hold back the groan at the back of your throat when her fingers tangled themselves in the rosary beads hanging from your neck; she bunched them in her hand, pulling them taut until the cross pushed painfully against your throat and your breath was cut short while she held it tight. The beads left dents in the skin of your neck when she loosened her hold, ones she’d no doubt admire later.

“For the lips of an adulteress drip honey and smoother than oil is her speech.” She rasped with a lick over your pulse point, a hand roaming your body with a squeeze at your breast beneath your shirt and her nails scratching a pathway down the skin of your torso with a light stinging pain left behind. She bypassed the material of your skirt to cup your cunt with a strong hand and a thumb pushing into your clit through your dampening underwear. “But in the end she is bitter as wormwood-” She growled with a tug at the lobe of your ear with her teeth. “Sharp as a two edged sword.”

Your head was spinning at her harsh words and you barely registered the metallic sound of her belt buckle, only being brought back at the teasing of the head of her cock against your hole, she laughed darkly at how wet you were for her. Soaked and dripping onto your thighs. You whimpered at the finger she stroked through your slit, groaning at how she tilted your head backwards by the grip she still held on your necklace.

“You’re so wet, it’s pathetic really.” She mused, not waiting for a response before shoving her wet digit past your lips and your teeth bit into her flesh at the sudden force of her strap into you, your pussy stretched around her but she kept her hips stilled while she peppered your neck with kisses instead.

“Wanda, please.”

“Mm mm.” She returned with a shake of her head. “Sinners don’t get rewards without repenting.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” You breathed. “It won’t happen again.”

“You can do better than that, I think. Haven’t I taught you well enough, hm?”

“Obedio patri mio, et reddam pro paccatis meis.” You stuttered out as her thumb brushed over your throbbing clit with your hips twitching at the feeling.

(I will obey my father and pay for my sins)

“I knew you could be a good girl, darling.” Wanda uttered with a snap of her hips thrusting her cock into you in the perfect position with her thumb over your clit along with the pace she began. Your nails dug into the wood of the pew you grasped onto, creaking with each thrust she fucked into you with your breath hitching in your throat, pressure on your neck in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Choked moans sounded at the back of your throat, echoing throughout the empty church; colourful light shone onto the pair of you through the stained glass windows. There’s something so amusing about the idea of being fucked by a priest in her church, crucifixes on the wall, bibles along benches and paintings of Virgin Mary herself watching over you.

Wanda made you feel every inch of her with each push of her hips, her thumb worked on your clit as the tip of her dick hit against your sweet spot and her fingertips dug into the flesh of your thighs. She smirked at the sound of your wetness, lips parting with her head thrown back at the way her own clit was rubbing against the strap.

“God Wanda, ‘m so close.” You moaned out through heaving breaths, your face was flushed hot, your belly twinged with your nearing climax and your shaking legs struggled to keep you upright, relying on the firm hold from Wanda while her own choked moans sounded beside your ear.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me hear how much of a little slut you are, hm? How much of a filthy sinner you are.”

A loud groan fell from your lips that matched the one from Wanda, only pants of breath filling the space between you as you tried to recover. You whined at the empty feeling when she pulled out of you, already missing the filled up feeling while she watched how your cum had coated her cock.

Your slick glistened and she swiped her fingers through it, humming at the tang when she sucked it from her fingertips, licking her tongue over the pads of her digits as she spun you round to face her. You could taste yourself on her lips when they pressed into yours, firm and possessive like the hold she had on your waist. You held her close with your hands tangled in her hair, kisses sloppy and quick, eager with such desperation to go for round two.

“People will be here soon.” She murmured against the line of your jaw, fiddling with her belt buckle to make herself presentable again. “So messy.” She added in a whisper, swiping her thumb over your lips to neaten up the smeared lipstick on your cheek before doing the same to herself.

“Is sex in a church a sin?”

“I’m not sure it’s specifically touched on in the bible but I assume so, yes.” She laughed.

“Then I have something to confess. I will take my punishment this evening, if that works for you and the guy upstairs.”

“That can be arranged.” Wanda grinned, smiling into the kiss she greeted your lips with, pulling away just in time for the large doors to creak open and the footsteps of the first arrivals of the service to echo in the room.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you

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magicalrocketships · 8 months

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hi! are you planning to write more of de-aged max bc he is just so cute it’s giving me a heart attack. saw a tiktok the other day w photos of baby max and all i could think about was this verse!!!!! ahhh lysm

Thank you!!! Here is a little bit more, in honour of grown up Max's adventures with colouring in.

(Hopefully this link shows the stuff I’ve already posted in chronological order. But anyway, this bit follows directly on from this part.)

It has been five full days since a seven year old Max showed up at Daniel's door in too-big clothes and holding out a little card with Daniel's name carefully printed on it in grown up Max's blocky handwriting. Baby Max shows no signs of going big again. He follows Daniel around his apartment, looks at his flag book, and plays with the Jimmy or Sassy cats — no further narrowing down of cat identity has occurred, due to Daniel having little to no interest in identifying cat penises, and grown up Max's complete fucking inability to put his fucking cat names on a fucking collar, or, indeed, to have informed Daniel of his Go Small plans at any point in the past three fucking years, but that's fine, Daniel is fine with this responsibility. Max has wet the bed every night and Daniel is just having to cross his fingers that he's not making everything worse by each and every decision he makes.

Anyway: if grown up Max doesn't show up again extremely soon, Daniel's going to have to bite the bullet and call Christian and tell him Max isn't going to be able to race. Max will hate that when he's back, if Daniel brakes too soon and makes the call, and more than that, it's going to turn baby Max into a Thing, and if there's one thing Daniel has learned in the last five days, it's that Max one hundred percent does not want to be a thing of any kind.

So, it's time for Emergency Measures. Maybe what will kickstart baby Max back into adulthood in time for his next race will be a race track, and go-karting. Daniel takes advantage of Max being distracted by his coloured pencils in the living room to google nearby karting tracks, and sends the nearest one a message to see if he could book out the whole track for a private session. The answer comes back with an immediate yes, which is probably in some part due to the figure Daniel had dropped in his message about how much he's willing to pay for the privilege.

He leans against the doorframe into the living room. Max is concentrating very closely on his colouring book, his coloured pencils all out on the coffee table. A little something in Daniel's chest shifts a bit.

"Maxy-Max," Daniel says, half way through his email response to the karting track. "Would you like to go karting tomorrow?"

There is a pause. "No, thank you, Daniel." Max does not look up from his colouring book, nor does he stop colouring.

Daniel also pauses. Max's little fingers hold onto his pencil tighter. He's pressing down hard on the picture.

"Okay," Daniel says. "Would you like to go another day, if we don't go tomorrow?"

"No, thank you, Daniel," Max says again. He still doesn't look up. His pencil might tear through the paper soon.

Daniel's been reading up on Going Small. Well, googling randomly when he can't sleep. Most people tend to think about Going Small as a way of connecting with your kid self, like… remembering who you once were in case maybe you wanted to stop being such a cunt or that you always wanted to sew clothes or build bridges and maybe your hedge fund job isn't as fulfilling as you maybe thought it was. Some people say it's as much for the people around you as it is about you, but whatever. Daniel had had a great fucking time in the pit lane six years ago, he remembers that much, although the detail has always been fuzzy. Like it happened a very long time ago. But there's another school of thought, one about the kids that don't age back up after a day or a couple of days, the kids who maybe lost a part of their childhood the first time around. Daniel's never met anyone who stayed small longer than a couple of days though, and it's so rare that the theory could be complete bollocks, and no one would ever know anyway. You can't battle data against the universe, it's not like race strategy. There's no science to it.

Max continues not to look at him. He's colouring the same line over and over again.

Daniel closes his email app, and slips his phone into his pocket. "Can I come and colour with you?"

Max nods, but doesn't look up. His fingertips are white around his pencil. He's used it down to the nub so that it's almost too blunt to colour with.

Daniel tries to sit down on Max's right side, but Max shakes his head and makes him come and sit on his left. Daniel positions himself cross-legged by the coffee table and it becomes clear just why Max wanted him this side when, a moment later, Max's little hand slips into Daniel's bigger one. Daniel does not now have a hand to colour with, but maybe it doesn't matter, because Max is colouring with enough concentration for the two of them, a big picture of a train with a cat sitting in the window next to the driver. He's being very careful. He still doesn't look up.

One of the Jimmy or Sassys wanders over to curl up by Max's little Pikachu-socked foot. The other one, the one who doesn't like being petted as much and prefers to watch you in a creepy and furry way while you're doing perfectly normal things sitting on the toilet or in the shower, perches on top of Daniel's shelves and stares at them.

Max's grip on his pencil loosens a little. Daniel leans over and kisses the top of his head. "You're very good at colouring," he tells Max. "We can cut out ones you've finished and put them up on the wall, if you'd like."

Max looks at him then, his eyes big and wide. "My pictures?"

"Your pictures," Daniel agrees. He reaches for the Pikachu pencil sharpener in the middle of the table. "Can I sharpen your pencil for you?"

Max dutifully hands him his blue pencil. His eyes are still shining, even though Daniel's had to stop holding his hand so that he can sharpen it for him. When he hands it back, all sharp, Max tucks his hand into Daniel's again.

"You've done some good colouring in of this train," Daniel says. "Have you been on a train, Maxy-Max?"

Max shakes his head.

"Would you like to go on one?"

Max's eyes widen. "A train?"

"Yeah," Daniel nods. "If you'd like, we can go and find a train to go on tomorrow. If you want to. We can take Pikachu."

"But not the Jimmy or Sassys," Max says, frowning. "They would not like the train and they might get lost."

"No," Daniel agrees. "The Jimmy or Sassy cats can stay here."

"There is a cat in my train picture but it is not our cats."

"No," Daniel says. "So, should we go on a train tomorrow?"

"Yes, please, Daniel," Max says, in satisfaction.

Daniel watches him colour even as he's avoiding texting Christian to let him know Max has gone small and isn't getting big again. He follows up on his avoidance by ordering a night light for Max's bedroom and one for the bathroom, in case his little boy is frightened of the dark and is too scared to say. He pays extra for same-day delivery.

He'll call Christian later, when Max is in bed. Instead, he googles train stations, and train timetables, and puts together a plan for the morning.

Max keeps his hand tucked into Daniel's, carries on colouring, and doesn't let go.

Thank you so much to Zoe @flawlessassholes for giving this a pre-post read through, and for consistently being interested in all baby Max lore!

#my fic #de-aged maxiel #baby max #fic that I wrote

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

O Me! O Life! // J.Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: scars, non-sexual nudity, mention of what the Joker did to Jason

Summary: He hates the scars on his back and avoids seeing them any chance he gets. He slips up one day, but you’re there to assure him.

* - denotes lines from O Me! O Life! by Walt Whitman (my fave poem thank u for asking)

The thing about scars is that it’s easy to forget that they’re there sometimes. The raised white pucker along his jaw from a knife disappeared under his five o’clock shadow. The pinched circles of healed bullet holes changed shape when he flexed. But these scars…there was no mistaking it.

Ugly gouges only healed by the Lazarus pit marred his back. He hated looking at them the few times he turned his head when his back was to the mirror. It was as if he was back in that fucking werehouse with the fucking clown and that fucking crowbar.

Today was one of those days where the Gotham humidity felt like a fucking wet blanket smacking you in the face the second you stepped out the door. Sweat practically draped his shirt along his skin as he went for a morning run and by god, the only thing he wanted to do when he got home was take a shower.

You were still spread out under the thin cotton top sheet and even that was almost unbearable in the summer heat. You offered him a smile lined with the lingering sleep that clung to your mind. Jason made sure to swing by and press a kiss to your temple as your hand loosely curled at the collar of his shirt but he pulled away before you could convince him back into bed.

“Gotta shower, sweets,” he murmured as he extracted himself from your grip and made his way into the bathroom.

“Wow, without even giving me a show?” you called behind him. He snorted in response and his shirt landed on the growing pile of laundry on the floor across from the bathroom door. You booed and he sighed but stepped out from behind the door frame. His shorts hung low on his hips, revealing the cut of his abs as they descended behind the band of rayon. You waved your hand to tell him to continue and he rolled his eyes, but a smile grew on his lips as he pushed his shorts down.

“Once more, pretty boy,” you cooed. He tugged off his boxers and raised his arms to the side and spun in a circle like he was giving you a fashion show. You burst into laughter but your laughter faded when you saw his face fall.

His eyes were locked on his reflection in the full length mirror propped up against the wall. He trailed his gaze along the harsh stripes of mottled flesh that stood out against his tan skin. You slipped out from under the sheet and made your way across the room to press up against his chest. One of your hands came up to rest on his bicep and the other wound its way behind his back to start to trace along the lines and scars.

“Lover,” you whispered. “These are signs that you survived.”

A shuddering breath escaped him and you turned to look into the mirror, your motions following you in the silvery reflection. Your finger drew hearts, circles, and words along his skin. Praises, promises, sweet nothings created an invisible diary of your devotion to him and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse*,” you whispered. “You are here. Life exists. You may contribute a verse. You are here. Say it.”

“I am here,” he croaked out. “I exist. Life exists.”

“You are here. With me. In our home.”

The home with plants and cats and Wonder Woman curtains. The home with mismatched plates found at thrift shops and dollar stores. The home with his gun safe next to the stack of unread books that the two of you have been pointedly ignoring. The home with the walk to the bodega for breakfast sandwiches and the farmer’s market tucked away at a local park.

He was here. With you. Life exists.

He curled his arms around your waist, delicate and tentative as though he would destroy you with a simple touch, and you leaned into it. You welcomed him with soft caresses and careful kisses and he melted into the arms of the person he loved. He was here. Life exists.

Tag List: @mcrmarvelloki @gone-batty-fics @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @kat-nee @khaylin27

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd fluff #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fluff

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bitterlemonwater · 2 years

Note

I never use tumblr, but did you ever finish the collar full sequel?

hi!! I have not yet finished the series, unfortunately, but I have not given up on it! They will get their angst and happy ending💞thank you for the ask bb🥰

#im literally obsessed with them so I couldn’t abandon that if I tried #collar full verse #lemon’s asks

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inexplicifics · 6 months

Note

💛 (reunion kiss / relief) + Gweld/Serrit?

This is AWAU 'verse, well before Geralt calls the Schools together, and Serrit has not transitioned yet or even realized she wants to, so uses he/him pronouns.

Serrit has gotten used to seeing the Wolf every few months. It’s not regular as dwarf-made clockwork or anything, but somehow they run into each other at least twice or three times a year while out on the Path. It certainly has nothing to do with Serrit asking around about a redheaded Wolf Witcher with a startlingly cheerful demeanor, and Serrit has no idea if the Wolf does the same sort of thing. Probably he does. He certainly never seems terribly surprised when Serrit turns up.

But it’s been six months, and Serrit hasn’t seen hide nor red hair of his…occasional bedmate and hunting partner.

He goes south to Gorthur Gvaed for the winter feeling slightly unsettled. Not that he’d ever admit to that, nor to the reason. The Wolf is a good fuck and a good fighter, and that’s all there is to it.

He does ask around in the spring, though. Even drifts up into the lower reaches of Kaedwen - Wolf territory, where Vipers are not usually welcome - to see what there is to see. It’s just because the contracts are decent in that area, that’s all.

The contracts are decent, and Serrit makes decent money and even finds a merchant selling elf-made pigments that she hasn’t seen before, which means his sketchbook is even more colorful than usual when he makes it back to Gorthur Gvaed in the autumn. But there’s no word of a redheaded Wolf, either living or dead.

Serrit doesn’t actually care, of course. But he’s a little more irritable than usual that winter, and he wears himself out sparring against Ivar at least once a week, which is a lot more often than most people prefer going up against the Viper of Morgraig himself.

He doesn’t bother going up to Kaedwen in the spring. Cintra has plenty of monsters.

It also, he discovers somewhere in the middle of Litha, includes a certain redheaded Wolf he’d assumed was dead.

Gweld shows up in the middle of a really rather annoying bullvore fight - the damn thing is smarter than it ought to be, and keeps dodging - and demonstrates his usual trick of being exactly in the right place at the right time, so when the bullvore dodges Serrit’s attack it manages to walk right into Gweld’s, and once it’s wounded it’s not hard to finish off. Serrit even gets the killing blow.

And then he whirls and grabs Gweld by the collar of his armor and slams the Wolf against a tree. “What the hell,” he grits out, not entirely sure why he’s so angry but absolutely willing to gut the Wolf if he gives the wrong answer, whatever that might be.

Gweld blinks down at him for a moment, and then, bafflingly, smiles. “Ran afoul of a pack of bruxae on my way back to Kaer Morhen,” he says calmly, as if there’s not an angry Viper up in his face. “I won, obviously, but I also broke most of my ribs and all the bones in my right leg and foot.”

Serrit suppresses a wince. That’s a bad injury. Even for a Witcher, that’s almost always going to be fatal.

“One of my brothers found me and dragged me home, and I spent the whole winter recovering; wasn’t quite back to full strength in the spring, so Rennes assigned me as a trainer for a year.” Gweld smiles more broadly. “It was fun, but it’s good to be back on the Path. And good to see you again. I -”

Serrit kisses him to make him stop talking. He has a faint, worrisome feeling that if he actually hears whatever Gweld was about to say, it will change - something. Something Serrit isn’t ready to change, just yet.

Gweld makes a small startled noise and then huffs a soft laugh and takes Serrit’s face in his absurdly gentle hands and deepens the kiss, and when they part, he’s still smiling, but he doesn’t say anything at all.

(Or here on AO3!)

#questions answered #ask meme #heart asks #gweld #serrit #snippet

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ecoamerica · 15 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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my-castles-crumbling · 7 months

Text

I Always Wanted a Brother

AU: Trans Regulus

Thinking about turning this into a full-length fic. Would love (constructive) opinions!

DISCLAIMER/TW: This discusses internal and general transphobia so the ideas expressed here are not always true/healthy/accurate. it is also from the POV of a child who is not well-versed on queer identities, so some things are purposely inaccurate.

The first time it had happened was when he was small.

He couldn’t remember the exact age, but it was small enough that he was still too short to reach the floor when he sat on the big chairs in the formal dining room. He was still too little to properly recognize the feelings that washed through him that day.

His mother had forced them into the stuffiest of clothing for a family dinner- their extended relatives were coming and Walburga expected only the best from her children. Having been raised on the most conservative Pureblood ideals, the Black heirs were expected to be pristine and perfect.

Sirius, grumbling and muttering, had been forced into a starched set of dress robes, complete with collar and ruffle.

Regulus wore a dress.

It was tight in the worst places, and flowy in others, and he felt as if he couldn’t properly breathe. Not because it was too tight, but because it was wrong.

His stomach lurched as he looked in the mirror.

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Sirius, I can’t wear this,” he whispered, just loud enough for his older brother to hear.

But Sirius didn’t seem to understand. “You think I’m any happier?” he groused, pulling at the ruffles on his cuffs.

And so Regulus sighed, and went through the day, feeling as if his skin was crawling as he went. Goosebumps erupted on the back of his neck every time he caught his reflection on any shiny surface. It was excruciating, even as a small child.

It was only later, as he crawled under Sirius’s covers and they whispered back and forth about cousin Bella’s awful haircut that he asked, “Sirius, why do you never have to wear dresses?”

And Sirius gave him a strange look. “I’m a boy, Reggie. Only girls wear dresses.”

Regulus contemplated that, curling close to his brother as they both drifted to sleep, and wondered if there was any sort of spell to turn him into a boy, too. Then, he wouldn’t have to wear dresses.

–

He was lumped in with the girls. Narcissa, Bellatrix, Andromeda. His name was spoken along with theirs, while Sirius’s was singled out. It was odd, he realized as he grew- why was he put with the girls? He didn’t feel like he belonged there. He’d asked his mother once, why this was so.

It was the first time he’d been hit.

He might have been hit more, except Sirius had accidentally broken some priceless heirloom, and suddenly he was the focus of Mother’s ire.

The bruise healed, but the confusion remained.

He tried not to stare enviously that year when Sirius would receive boy things for Christmas, like knives and collared shirts, while he, himself received makeup and bows for his hair.

He was expected to like dolls and pink and frills and lace.

He did not.

Sirius got to play with toy brooms and wear pants.

He did not.

Why?

He watched Sirius jealously when they both got haircuts and Sirius’s hair was always cropped smartly to his ears. His own hair was past his shoulders and it was wavy and feminine and horrid in a way that made his stomach feel as if it were trying to escape through his mouth.

He played a game with himself, sometimes.

At first he told nobody.

He would pretend to be a boy, in his head.

He would pretend to have short hair and pants and the toys and clothes that Sirius had.

But once, he slipped.

He mentioned it to mother.

That was the first time he was left in his room all day, with no meals.

He suspected it might have been longer, except Sirius was caught sneaking food to him. He didn’t see Sirius for three days after that.

Sirius understood.

Well, he didn’t understand, but he didn’t judge.

Days later, when Sirius snuck into his room, he confessed to Sirius about his game. Sirius looked at him for a long time before asking, “Do you want me to pretend, too? Do you want me to pretend you’re a boy?”

It was so simple, but it made him so happy.

After that, Sirius would sneak him his old clothes and they would stay up late having fashion shows. “They look better on you than me, Reggie!” Sirius would say with a grin.

He felt so sane in those moments. Like he wasn’t breaking some stupid rule he didn’t even understand.

It got worse, of course. As he got older, he realized that it wasn’t just dresses and toys and games in his head.

He resisted the urge to cry when he looked at himself in the mirror and saw the curve of hips beginning to form, all while Sirius walked around shirtless, showing off the smooth frame he craved.

It was his body. It was all wrong.

Was he crazy?

Mother had caught him wearing Sirius’s old pants and had hit him and called him words he had never heard before and had starved him for two days. Sirius had brought him food again. He’d been caught and hurt even worse.

But he still couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t fix himself. He couldn’t stop pretending he was a boy and wondering if, somehow, whatever magic made babies show up in mothers had been botched somehow with him. Was he a product of a ruined spell? The consequence of the inbreeding of his parents?

The worrying and wondering was terrifying. He felt crazy. But he only cried into Sirius’s shoulder, unable to voice his thoughts.

He was broken. He could never be fixed.

The day Sirius was due to leave for Hogwarts, he cried and cried because Sirius was the only one that treated him as normal. He had been his confidant, his safe haven, and he was leaving.

And Sirius found him, sobbing in his brother’s bed, and whispered, “I’m gonna come back, Reggie, don’t worry.”

And he murmured, “But nobody else…” Nobody else what? Nobody else loved him, despite his insanity and self-hatred?

It wasn’t normal. He had been telling himself that for the better part of three years, ever since he’d started his little game. Normal people didn’t reject their own bodies and want to…want to be…

It was disgusting.

So, he met his brother’s eyes and said, “I’ll just miss you, that’s all.”

—

The four months between the start of school and the holidays were the longest of his life. After the news of Sirius’s sorting into Gryffindor reached home Mother was nothing less than volent. He didn’t dare step a toe out of line. He felt as if he were slowly dying, rising every morning for the tutor Mother had hired, pulling on the dresses Mother set out daily, not even able to find lightness or humor in the sarcastic remarks Sirius used to make behind the tutor’s back. It was numbing.

Sirius wrote, but his letters were careful- they both knew their parents read the letters, so the letters were light and surface-level. They still tore at his heart, though, in the way they described Sirius’s happiness. Happiness without him.

But it was the day Sirius returned to their home, the day he pulled him into his room and under the covers, like they used to do when they were small, and described his friends, that his life changed forever.

He listened in bittersweet fascination as Sirius described James (“James Potter, he’s wonderful and so cool, Reggie, and his parents are so nice, they always send us things!”) and Peter and Remus (“He’s like…quiet, like you. But I reckon there’s something to him, and I’ll figure it out”). And he talked about Lily and Alice and Mary and Marlene. But Regulus wasn’t most interested in Sirius’s friends’ names, or even if they were nice. No, he almost physically jumped off of the bed when Sirius mentioned Gideon.

Gideon was a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, older than Sirius, and apparently, it’d taken Sirius about three minutes to mention, had caused quite a stir that Fall.

“Well, s’because I guess he used to be a girl? But now he’s not,” Sirius explained, looking a bit confused, himself. “I guess you can do that? James calls it trans.” Sirius nodded, as if confirming to himself that that was the correct term. “Like Transfiguration, I guess? Changing? But he just didn’t want to be a girl, so now, he’s not!”

He gaped. That was possible? He asked Sirius this question, trying to seem casual.

“Yeah, guess so! I mean, it’s kind of like the game you play, right? Except, real! And Gideon says he’s a lot happier now, so good for him, I guess? But some of the other kids have been right prats about it, seems like–” Sirius broke off, taking in his expression. “Reggie, are you okay?”

He was crying. “You can do that?” He repeated.

And then, Sirius seemed to realize. Because for a twelve-year-old, he was decently smart, and knew him better than anyone. “D’you…d’you want to do that, Reggie? I thought…I thought it was just a game?”

And he could only shake his head.

There was a stunned beat of silence. Then, Sirius grinned. “Well…I always wanted a brother.”

Hey guys! I used my own experience with dysphoria as well as a very helpful friend here on Tumblr to help make this as realistic as possible! Let me know your thoughts! I purposely only used he/him pronouns for Regulus and avoided using his deadname because the fic is from his POV and the point is he is a boy.

As a reminder, trans men are men, trans women are women. This is just child Regulus's POV, so he and Sirius aren't very educated on the subject.

#marauders #marauders era #harry potter #fanfic #regulus black kinnie #trans regulus #sirius is a good brother #sirius protecting regulus #regulus deserved better #regulus black #sirius and regulus #tw gender dysphoria #tw transphobia #tw walburga black

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infiniteeight8 · 22 days

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Ironstrange prompt: foreplay

Foreplay can be literally anything with the right context, but I decided to go with something that was a little more straightforwardly sexy. 😀

This could be taken as a sequel to i'm not wearing a dress and sweaty tony, but it could also just be its own ‘verse. Whichever you prefer!

Stephen’s robes were normally very buttoned up. Tony had seen him fly through a windstorm without significantly dislodging them.

Which meant that the way his collar was gaping right now had to be intentional. Stephen wanted Tony to see the delicate, brilliant blue strap that hugged his shoulder and descended towards his chest. A scalloped lace edge could just be discerned before it disappeared into the more muted blue of Stephen’s robes. Tony’s mouth was dry imagining it: a little bralet, lacy and tight across Stephen’s slender form. Or maybe a cami, the lace giving way to a fall of silky fabric… Stephen’s robes could easily cover that.

“Tony?”

Tony’s gaze snapped up from the gape of Stephen’s collar, meeting the man’s amused gaze. Had they been talking? Yes. Something about… Nope, it was no good. Tony couldn’t remember a single word. “Sorry,” Tony said, not feeling sorry at all. “Got distracted.”

Stephen’s lips twitched, but didn’t manifest a full smile. Suddenly his collar was as snug against his skin as it ever had been. “I was hoping to have your undivided attention.”

“Oh, my attention’s undivided, all right,” Tony said, sidling closer. He laid a hand on Stephen’s hip, thumb sliding beneath the layers of his tunic. And yes, there it was: a hint of lace, by texture, peeking out above the waist of Stephen’s pants.

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Stephen chided. “We still have matters to discuss.”

When he turned away, dislodging Tony’s thumb, his collar sagged open to reveal a matching strap on the other side.

Definitely intentional.

#IronStrange #ficlet

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year

Note

oh can we get a little drabble of apprentice!verse jason holding the baby for the first time? 🥺🥺🥺 and maybe bruce’s first meeting w his granddaughter too if u want? 🥺

It felt like forever, Bruce reflected- it felt like he sat in his car trying to hype himself up to go inside forever. But, when he jogged across the street and opened your back gate, his heart was racing.

He'd not been told NOT to come. And Jason had called- sounding like he had a nasty cold to tell him Jillian was here and you were both safe. And when he found John Constantine in your kitchen, rifling through a drawer and grumbling, Bruce frowned- If John was here should he wait?

"Out," Jason said, scowling, coming down the stairs, "You don't get to make her cry and then raid her house for components-"

"Listen mate," John started, not looking up from the drawer where you kept certain less-than-legal substances.

"No," Jason said sharply, "You listen. Whatever you just said to her. Whatever you think she needs to be doing right now. She just fucking gave birth. Could you not just stop being a dick for 30 seconds, tell her you're proud of her and then fuck off?" When John looked up, scowling, about to point out that Jason almost killed you once, he never got the chance. Jason grabbed him by the collar and roughly dragged him backward and out of the house, ignoring his protests as he slammed his hand down on symbols inscribed on the doorway- Wards meant to keep people out.

For a moment, he stood in the middle of the kitchen, furious but trying to breathe. Trying to calm himself down so he could go back upstairs and help you.

"Jay," Bruce said softly, "Are you-"

"I'm okay," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't have everyone here do you?"

"No," Bruce chuckled, "Alfred managed to convince them that the last thing Y/N was going to need or want was a house full of people to entertain."

"Thanks. Everything was fine just... Long. She's tired and-" He breaks off when Bruce pulls him into a hug and kisses the side of his head, relaxing into the touch after a second, even if he doesn't stay long. "Give me just a second?" he said when he pulled away. "Let me make sure the girls are up to a visitor."

"Of course," Bruce said nodding. Understanding, as Jason turned to go upstairs that he wasn't being brushed off if you said no but that Jason wasn't going to push you for it either. He tries not to listen but he can hear the soft conversation- a few words here or there. Jason's deep voice and yours in reply- still sounding weepy and upset.

But. It didn't take long for Jason to appear, nodding up the stairs for Bruce to follow. And Bruce does, not needing told twice. "I won't stay long," Bruce promised. Thinking better of telling Jason that he thought he'd want moral support. Some of HIS family to be there today. To show up for him.

"She's not upset that you're here," Jason said, "John just- well. He kinda implied she ruined her life. And it might not be the first time but- she doesn't need told she's stupid every four seconds."

"She's not-"

"I know that. You know that. Hell. Even John knows that. He's just mad she's not at his beck and call."

Bruce grunted and watched Jason, stopping him before ducking into the room that had been set up for you to make sure you were ready. And when Jason ducked back around to beckon to Bruce, he was grinning. So proud he could hardly take it as he leaned down to kiss your head as you cuddled the baby.

"She's beautiful," Bruce said, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when you looked up at him and smiled- he didn't THINK you'd be upset he was there but- emotions were running high and he knew that if you thought Bruce had upset Jason you would have stepped in. Even now.

"Do you want to hold her?" you offer.

"I don't have to I don't- it's been a long time since I've held a baby-"

"That's not what I asked," you laugh, "I asked if you wanted to."

"C'mon old man," Jason said, kissing your head again before gently asking the baby out of your arms.

And Bruce can't say no. Not when his son is offering him the most precious thing in his life. Not when Jason is beaming. Looking like a little boy on Christmas. He takes the little blanket-wrapped bundle and smiled. Jason got exactly what he wanted. A little carbon copy of you. "I'm glad you're both safe," Bruce said sincerely, not sure what else to say.

"Just tired," you assure him. "I'll heal and Jilly is healthy."

"Good," Bruce said, cuddling the baby, taking the chair Jason offered him, glancing up to see Jason wrapping his arms around you, stealing a kiss. "You have a lot of people excited to meet you," he told the baby, kissing her forehead. "Just as soon as you and your mother feel up to it."

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #apprentice!reader #ask answered #minors dni

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ausetkmt · 7 months

Text

It was the morning of May 24, 1888, and a large, ethnically diverse crowd waited in the Sala Ducale of the Apostolic Palace in Rome for the pope to arrive. Led by Cardinal Charles Lavigerie, the French missionary archbishop of Algiers, the group had traveled to Rome on a double pilgrimage from North Africa and from the Diocese of Lyon, France. The pilgrims had earlier entered St. Peter’s Square with camels and a special gift for the pope: a pair of gazelles wearing silver collars inscribed with Latin verse.

Shortly after noon, the smiling Pope Leo XIII and his entourage entered the Sala Ducale to sustained applause from the pilgrims. It was a special year for Leo: the golden jubilee of his ordination to the priesthood. Preparations had been underway throughout nearly the entirety of 1887 for the yearlong celebration in which the pope would receive thousands of gifts from all over the world and greet an abundance of well-wishers.

Among the pilgrims who traveled to Rome during Leo’s jubilee, however, this group was unique, and its uniqueness was indicated by the 12 men strategically placed at the front of the crowd. These 12 African men had been enslaved before their freedom was purchased by Lavigerie and his missionaries. They were at the head of the group because today’s audience was an unofficial celebration of the release of Pope Leo’s encyclical on slavery.

On Feb. 10, the Brazilian statesman and abolitionist Joaquim Nabuco had met with Leo in a private audience and asked the pope to write the encyclical. Brazil was on the cusp of abolishing slavery, which would make it the last country in the Western Hemisphere to do so. Due to the Brazilian princess regent Isabel’s devout Catholicism, Nabuco thought a letter from the pope condemning slavery might embolden her to support abolition more aggressively. Leo was happy to oblige, and the news about this antislavery encyclical began to spread.

Upon hearing of it, Cardinal Lavigerie wrote to the pope and asked him to include something about the continuing presence of slavery in Africa. The anti-abolition prime minister of Brazil, however, was not happy with the news from Rome, and he successfully pressed the Holy See to delay the issuance of the encyclical.

Despite the prime minister’s back-channel machinations, Brazil’s parliament passed the abolition bill, and it was signed into law by Isabel on May 13. When the encyclical, titled “In Plurimis,” was released to the public on May 24, it was dated May 5, as if Pope Leo wanted it on the record that he had supported Brazilian abolition before it became the law of the land. Nevertheless, this late release intersected perfectly with Cardinal Lavigerie’s pilgrimage. The day before the audience, the 12 formerly enslaved men had been given the chance to read the document. Though other encyclicals of Leo would come to overshadow this one, it surely was one of his most theologically significant. For with “In Plurimis” and his follow-up encyclical, “Catholicae Ecclesiae,” Leo XIII did something astounding: He changed the church’s teaching on slavery. The Catholic Church, for the first time in its history, had finally gotten on board with abolitionism.

Divergent Explanations

That revolutionary day when Leo XIII became the first pope to condemn slavery is not well known by many Catholics and is rarely mentioned in scholarship related to the church’s history. This is not terribly surprising. The church’s historical engagement with slaveholding is very complex, and it is also widely misunderstood. Even in the past several years, well-intentioned Catholic writers have published accounts of the church and slavery that are full of inaccuracies.

Often, those inaccurate accounts are written to defend the church in some way. In 2005, for example, Cardinal Avery Dulles wrote a book review in First Things claiming that the popes had denounced the trade in African slaves from its very beginnings and yet had never condemned slavery as such, retaining a continuity of teaching that always allowed for some “attenuated forms of servitude.” Other apologists have taken a more absolute position: The church has always been against slavery itself. Both these lines of argumentation seem to agree on two central assertions: The popes always condemned the trade in African slaves, and the church’s teaching did not change.

Defending the church, either in its reputation or its doctrinal continuity, can be praiseworthy. But when it comes to the history of the Catholic Church and slaveholding, this posture of defense has been deeply damaging. It has unnecessarily led to confusion around the church’s history with slaveholding, and that confusion has helped to prevent the church from reckoning with a troubling history whose consequences are still present in our world.

The history of the church was nothing close to a steady, if interrupted, march to eliminate slavery.

And yet it was once widely known, and still is among historians of slavery today, that the Catholic Church once embraced slavery in theory and in practice, repeatedly authorized the trade in enslaved Africans, and allowed its priests, religious and laity to keep people as enslaved chattel. The Jesuits, for example, by the historian Andrew Dial’s count, owned over 20,000 enslaved people circa 1760. The Jesuits and other slaveholding bishops, priests and religious were not disciplined for their slaveholding because they were not breaking church teaching. Slaveholding was allowed by the Catholic Church.

One of the reasons the church’s past approval of slaveholding is so little known among the general Catholic population today is that the very popes who reversed the church’s course on slavery and the slave trade also promoted that same inaccurate narrative that defended the church’s reputation and continuity—even, intentionally or not, at the cost of the truth.

Condemning the Atlantic Slave Trade

The shifts began quietly. In 1814, Pope Pius VII, at the request of Great Britain prior to the upcoming Congress of Vienna, privately sent letters to the kings of France and Spain asking them to condemn the slave trade. At this time in history, condemning the trade did not equate to condemning slavery itself. “The slave trade” meant the transatlantic shipping of enslaved persons from the African continent to the New World. Hence, the slaveholding U.S. President Thomas Jefferson, prior to signing an anti-slave-trade bill into law in 1807, saw no contradiction in referring to the trade as “those violations of human rights” against “the unoffending inhabitants of Africa” all while continuing to keep Black descendants of the trade’s immediate victims enslaved. Britain itself outlawed the trade in 1807, but slaveholding remained legal afterward in parts of its empire. In the same vein, Pius’s private letters referred only to the trade, not to slavery itself.The Door of No Return is a memorial in Ouidah, a former slave trade post in Benin, a country in West Africa. (Alamy)

The papacy’s condemnation of the trade became a public one in 1839 with Gregory XVI’s bull “In Supremo Apostolatus.” Though the bull came, once again, at the request of Great Britain, Gregory deserves praise for being the first pope to publicly condemn the Atlantic slave trade after nearly four centuries of its operation. The bull was a strong one in many ways, blaming the advent of the trade on Christians who were “basely blinded by the lust of sordid greed.” And yet, as with Pius VII, Gregory did not speak directly on the issue of whether slaveholders in the Americas should free their enslaved people, something he easily could have included.

So when some abolitionists in the United States greeted Gregory’s bull as a fully antislavery document, Catholic bishops like John England of Charleston, S.C., and Francis Patrick Kenrick of Philadelphia argued that the only thing the bull did was precisely what the United States had already done: ban participation in the international slave trade. Gregory corrected no one’s interpretation, and so Catholic slaveholding was able to continue in the United States and elsewhere, arguably without disobedience to church teaching.

The Catholic Church approved, multiple times and at some of its highest levels of authority, of one of the gravest crimes against humanity in modern history.

Why Gregory was the first pope to publicly condemn the trade is an agonizing and perhaps unanswerable question. The arguments that Gregory used to support his condemnation had been articulated by countless theologians and activists over the previous few centuries, including by the representatives of Black Catholic confraternities who protested the trade before the Holy See in the 1680s. Any pope since at least the 1540s, when the Dominican friar Bartolomé de las Casas changed his opinion on the trade after researching its injustices, could have issued nearly the same bull as Gregory did. Gregory was just the first to choose to do it.

Rewriting History

Unfortunately, Gregory also provided a narrative in his bull that did not present a truthful portrait of the church’s engagement with the trade. Pius VII had made an ambiguous and dubious claim that the church had helped to abolish much of the world’s slavery and that the popes had always “rejected the practice of subjecting men to barbarous slavery,” but Gregory expanded upon this claim in detail. He wrote that in ancient times, “those wretched persons, who, at that time, in such great number went down into the most rigorous slavery, principally by occasion of wars, felt their condition very much alleviated among the Christians.” He claimed that slavery was gradually eliminated from many Christian nations because of “the darkness of pagan superstition being more fully dissipated, and the morals also of the ruder nations being softened by means of faith working by charity.”

In Gregory’s telling, this steady Christian march toward eliminating slavery from the earth was then interrupted by greedy Christians who reduced Black and Indigenous peoples to slavery or who bought already enslaved persons and trafficked them.

Gregory claimed that the papacy had been opposed to these new situations of enslavement: “Indeed, many of our predecessors, the Roman Pontiffs of glorious memory, by no means neglected to severely criticize this.” As evidence for this statement, he cited the bulls prohibiting the enslavement of Indigenous peoples in the Americas written by Paul III, Urban VIII and Benedict XIV, as well as the then recent condemnations of the trade by Pius VII. He also included a curious reference: a 1462 letter of Pius II that, Gregory wrote, “severely rebuked those Christians who dragged neophytes into slavery.”

This narrative was deeply misleading. The history of the church was nothing close to a steady, if interrupted, march to eliminate slavery. Rather, the early church embraced slaveholding both before and after Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, and the medieval church expanded the ways by which someone could become enslaved beyond those allowed by pagan Rome—allowing, for example, that women in illicit relationships with clerics could be punished with enslavement. Theologians like St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas theologically defended the practice of keeping humans enslaved, and St. Gregory the Great gave enslaved people to his friends as gifts.

Moreover, while it was true that the popes condemned the enslavement of Indigenous peoples in the Americas, the trade in African slaves was permitted and encouraged by a series of popes from Nicholas V, who died in 1455, forward. Gregory XVI mentioned none of this, instead seeming to suggest that Pius II’s letter meant the popes’ hands had always been clean with regard to the trade. But Pius II’s condemnation had nothing to do with the general Portuguese trade in enslaved Africans; it instead concerned a particular instance of Catholic converts being kidnapped. Nicholas V’s bulls had specified that only non-Christians could be seized and enslaved. Pius II’s letter was in accordance with Nicholas’ permissions, not against them.

While it was true that the popes condemned the enslavement of Indigenous peoples in the Americas, the trade in African slaves was permitted and encouraged by a series of popes.

The inaccuracy of this narrative did not go unnoticed. The Portuguese consul in Brazil scoffed at the bull, writing that “its doctrine has been most rarely sent forth from the Palace of the Vatican, for it is well known that Nicholas V…and Calistus III…approved of the commerce in slaves” and that Sixtus IV and Leo X also approved of the trade even after the letter of Pius II. He noted that Scripture did not condemn slavery and that the popes had previously condemned only the enslavement of the Indigenous peoples of the Americas.

Erroneous as Gregory’s narrative may have been, he was not pulling it out of thin air. Some British and American abolitionist historians had been promoting such a narrative for decades in an attempt to argue that Christianity had historically been an antislavery religion. Just five years prior to Gregory’s bull, for example, the American historian George Bancroft falsely claimed that the slave trade “was never sanctioned by the see of Rome.” It is possible, then, perhaps even likely, that Gregory XVI honestly believed this narrative to be accurate. Nevertheless, it was wrong, and its publication in a papal bull meant that it would spread more widely.

An Abolitionist Church

When Leo XIII condemned not merely the slave trade but slavery itself on that exciting day in 1888, it may have not been too shocking to most people who heard the news. Slavery was now legally abolished in the Christian world; why would the church not be opposed to it? And yet both Nabuco and Lavigerie understood that Leo was making history. The condemnations of slaveholding that Leo issued in 1888 and 1890 did not represent merely a change in policy, which itself would have been momentous enough. The change was a theological one. What the Holy Office only a couple decades prior had proclaimed was “not at all contrary to natural and divine law” was now declared by Leo to be contrary to both.

Leo even used the arguments of abolitionists to make his case. There was a certain set of theological propositions that abolitionist theologians had been promoting for centuries, from as early as St. Gregory of Nyssa to the 19th-century abolitionists Maria Stewart, Frederick Douglass and the French Catholic journalist Augustin Cochin. These propositions had been criticized or ignored by most Catholic theologians who wrote in favor of slavery, but Leo’s documents were filled with them. His successors would repeat and even deepen those abolitionist ideas in their own antislavery documents over and over again.

And yet, bold and praiseworthy as Leo’s abolitionist encyclicals were, he further concealed the truth about church history. Ignoring centuries of papal, conciliar and canonical approval of slavery, Leo strengthened Gregory’s narrative of a long antislavery march through history and inaccurately listed additional popes who had supposedly condemned the trade in African slaves and even slavery itself—including one of the popes who had renewed Nicholas V’s permissions.

What the Holy Office only a couple decades prior had proclaimed was ‘not at all contrary to natural and divine law’ was now declared by Leo to be contrary to both.

As with Gregory, Leo may sincerely have believed these falsehoods to be true. But far from being officially corrected, this erroneous papal narrative has survived online and in print. Even St. John Paul II, who apologized for the participation of Christians in the slave trade, repeated the false claim that the trade had been condemned by Pius II.

The Need for Reckoning and Reconciliation

The Catholic Church’s change in teaching regarding slavery was striking. While that change raises important theological questions about ecclesiology and doctrinal development, we must reject the temptation to jump straight to those questions without also doing the hard and painful work of reckoning with this history. It is morally imperative that we admit and deal with a series of difficult truths: that the Catholic Church approved, multiple times and at some of its highest levels of authority, of one of the gravest and longest-lasting crimes against humanity in modern history—and did not withdraw that approval for nearly 400 years.

During the full history of the Atlantic slave trade, roughly 12.5 million African men, women and children were forced onto ships to be sent across the ocean to a life of forced labor. Almost two million did not survive that journey. The survivors and millions of their descendants, all human beings made in God’s image, were the chattel property of other humans who had the power to whip them, force them to work unpaid their entire lives and keep their children enslaved as well.A bas-relief sculpture on the wall of the Our Mother of Africa chapel at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., depicts the African American experience from slavery to emancipation and the civil rights movement. (CNS photo/Patrick Ryan for the National Black Catholic Congress via Catholic Standard)

As Catholics, we must consider the human beings affected by the church’s actions. How many people died chained to the disease-ridden hulls of ships because the popes before Gregory XVI repeatedly failed to take a bold stand? How many enslaved people were sexually assaulted because they were placed in a legal position allowed by the popes before Leo XIII that left them vulnerable to such abuse? How many enslaved people fell away from the Catholic faith because priests told them that the oppression they were experiencing was occurring with the approval of Holy Mother Church?

A process of reconciliation is needed. Our church needs to admit these past injustices.

As part of that reconciliation process, we need to do our best to repair the harm caused by the injustices our church perpetuated. Anti-slave-trade Catholic theologians of the 16th century were already writing about the need to make restitution to enslaved people. One 17th-century Capuchin even wrote about the eventual need for the descendants of slaveholders to make restitution to the descendants of the enslaved. Some religious communities have taken steps toward reconciliation, including the Jesuits of the United States, but at some point the Vatican will have to do the same. Perhaps there could be an international commission, or maybe a synod. When we consider the millions of lives the trade harmed and still harms to this day, it is difficult to imagine even the convoking of an ecumenical council as being too extreme a remedy.

Pope Leo XIII righted one significant wrong when he changed the Catholic Church’s teaching on slavery in 1888, and the popes since then should be lauded for their continual denunciation of slavery, slavery-like economic practices and contemporary human trafficking. But as with every unconfessed and unaddressed sin, harm remains. It takes courage to pick up that examination of conscience and pray with it. It takes courage to enter the confessional, say what needs to be said and commit to doing what needs to be done. And yet the justice and love of God demand such steps.

#Slavery and the Catholic Church: It’s time to correct the historical record #catholic church #curse of cannan #church lies #white lies #Black Lives Matter #Reparations

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