#and not listening and not having these pieces touch them like they touched me

[acowardinmordor]

So you know how lots of kids get dumped into foster care when their parents are either not around or deemed unfit? And you know how lots of religious groups and religious get approved as foster homes despite being cruel? And you know how the Midwest of America is/was super not great for anyone queer in the 80s? And how sometimes if people couldn’t get store bought conversion therapy, homemade was fine?

Before Wayne finds out that his brother and sister in law have lost custody of their kid, before he raises hell and rips up the system to find him, Eddie goes into the system for a few years.

After Wayne finds him, he immediately rebels against all the things they insisted he do. He listens to satanic music and he finds dungeons and dragons and becomes as much of a freak as possible. Because those are the pieces he feels safe reaching for. That’s the stuff they lectured about and reminded all the kids not to touch. That’s what’s safe.

The stuff they really wanted to crush down and smother is too broken for Eddie to rebel against. Not right away. Not a few years later when he starts to think about it more. Not when he tries to like girls his junior year and fails at it.

The things they did to him when he was a kid and gave them the slightest indication he might be queer are too deep in his bones.

Even when Steve comes out, and Robin and Will. Even when they’re supported and loved, even then, he can’t break that hold. He doesn’t repeat the words that echo in his memories, he knows it would hurt his friends. He isn’t unsupportive, but he can’t even think about himself that way without feeling sick.

And maybe Robin and Steve aren’t paragons of queer inclusion and are actually sharp about. Because it’s so obvious to them that Eddie is gay. He flirts with Steve constantly and he has never stared at women or girls, no matter how hot they’re considered or how topless they are. They’re confident. So confident they kinda pressure him. It’s with the best of intentions, since they both felt so much better about themselves after coming out and finding allies.

They know Eddie was in the foster system for a little while, and that Eddie hated them, but to Eddie, they didn’t do anything beyond the normal scale of shitty guardians. He doesn’t think of it as conversion therapy. To be honest, it wasn’t. It was Aversion therapy. He never really got a chance to recognize anything about himself before they started grinding that identity into dust.

It comes to a head when they’re all a little crossfaded and hanging out at Steve’s. Nancy, Jon and Argyle are there too, everyone laughing teasing each other.

Eddie always sits next to Steve and he always leans close when he teases, when he jokes, when he flirts. It’s so so obvious to everyone, and Steve knows everybody in the room is some kind of queer. It’s safe. He knows it’s safe.

Steve closes the distance, kisses Eddie. It’s a question and an invitation. Do you want this too? Do you like me? Can I kiss you again? Longer? Harder? It lasts a short few seconds.

Eddie shoves him away, hesitates, and then breaks Steve’s nose. He’s out the door and gone before the others have gotten past their initial wtf reaction.

The only reason Eddie is still in town the next morning is because Wayne was home when Eddie got there. He got a fragment of an explanation, and stole the keys to Eddie’s van when he passed out after a panic attack and breakdown.

[selarina]

True Blue

→ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (Series Masterlist)

Chapter 3: The Party

Summary: Back home after your first year of university, you try to spend the bone-dry heat of summer with your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, but restrictions prevail.

Content Warning: college bf!gojo, fluff, light angst, established relationship, birthday, implied parental issues, class differences, gojo is rich, casual violence (mentioned), social anxiety, reader and gojo are business majors (for now lol)

Word Count: 3.9k words

Author's Note: happy end of summer!! played cigarettes after sex the entire time i wrote this

Taglist: Open

In all honesty, you had expected Gojo to immediately whisk you away into a secluded corner of his house, and rid you of your clothes, blaming the summer heat or something just as ridiculous in the process. But instead, you were witnessing a far different side of him, it was baffling. Like he’s Jekyll and this version of him is Hyde in all his unfamiliar glory. He’s restrained, and poised. He’s not slinking his hands about as he speaks, they remain steady. It was jarring, to say the least. 

He was speaking of politics— and a joke? They’re all laughing, so it must be. 

You aren’t really listening, you’re far too busy raking through your eyes the crowd, watching the audience he’s garnered in all their collective gaze. It was such an odd thing to witness, the way they all hung onto his every word, as though something unseen and magnetic held their vision in place. 

You understood them though in a way. Of course, you did.

A waiter, dressed in a two-piece suit, quietly delivers another bottle of whiskey to the people near the couch. You hadn’t touched a drop, as you found yourself far too anxious to trust a drink in your hand or in your body. The crowd made you feel exposed, you felt seen in every muscle you moved. 

Your eyes flit out to the only open window in the big hall — a breeze coming in through there, and you felt you wanted to walk eastward towards it and walk through the soft twilight of the balcony. But you refrained, it would be impolite. You weren’t sure what kind of rules were in place in this crowd, but you could tell it was different from what you were accustomed to. 

You felt severely underdressed for starters. That was your tell. There seemed to be an unspoken theme you didn’t know about but perhaps that’s your fault for dropping by to surprise. Why would Satoru indulge in themes for a party if he didn’t know you were making it too? It makes sense, but you wish he had slipped out just once, so you could have prepared. Now, you felt severely plain when standing beside the fancier dolls in the room. 

A warm hand enveloped yours, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned, your eyes meeting the face of a slender woman. Her face looked ghostly, otherworldly, with a complexion of powdered milky white. 

“Mrs. Gojo,” you recognised.

“Hello, dear,” she smiled. This marked the first time you were seeing her in person. You had seen her only in photographs before, countless of them. Satoru adored his mother. She seemed like a worldly and kind woman somehow. You could tell at just first glance. 

"Hello," you replied, your voice catching as though nerves had tangled in your throat.

“You missed the memo, it seems,” she remarked, though there was no sharpness in her tone, merely a simple observation. It didn’t seem like judgment, but it still left you a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah,” you laugh an artificial laugh. "This was all very last minute on my part, so I wasn’t aware of the theme."

“No worries at all,” she reassured you, a poshness in her voice. Her hand rubbed softly against your bicep. “I could dazzle you up if you let me— a few accessories, perhaps a hairclip. That’s all it takes if you ask me.” 

The thought of being alone with Gojo’s mother unsettled you, but you nodded with a polite smile. “That’s very kind of you. I would love that.”

—

“So, Satoru tells me you’ve been seeing each other for about a year,” she begins, her voice mild but intent.

The interrogation begins, you think cruelly.

“Yes,” you answer, sitting before the mirror as his mother works your hair into shape. She promises it’ll be lovely, and you’ll have to trust her because, from this angle, you can’t see much of anything. “Almost a year in three months, if I’m not wrong.”

“Ah,” she lets out a soft laugh. “That’s reassuring.”

“What is?” A pause. “Ma’am,” you add, too quickly, and too late.

She hums, amused. “You pick things up fast. It’s just, well, he hasn’t kept a relationship longer than the milk in our fridge, so I suppose I’m just surprised. And relieved, really. I’m sure he’s told you about all his past escapades.”

“He has,” you answer with a small, strained laugh. “I’m just happy to be of service.”

“All done,” she announces, patting your hair lightly. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” you reply, though bemused. “But I can’t really see the back of my own head.” You try for humor.

“I’ll take a picture for you, dear. Hold still now.”

Click.

“Here,” she brings her hand forward as your eyes focus on the somewhat blurry picture in front of you. The phone looked ancient. For someone with such a huge manor, you would think they could afford the latest, but you knew how old people were – stubborn and for the routine of things. You think you’ll be one of them too. Back to the picture it looked beautiful, she put a gold hair net thing on your head, and it just elevated everything about your appearance even if you couldn't see it yourself 

“It’s… beautiful. Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“You’re very welcome,” she says softly. “Now I really must head back, but I think you can take a minute for yourself before rejoining the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“Nonsense,” she says, sternly. “If the birthday boy’s partner wants to stay in the room for a minute longer she can. Don’t worry about the crowd, I’ll have their tongues if they’re mean to you.”

The casual violence of her words is almost shocking, delivered so gently. It makes sense, though—like mother, like son.

“Alright,” you murmur, grateful. “Just a moment.” You watch her retreat, leaving you with your thoughts.

—

You took your minute, and then, as if your body had conspired against you, you drifted back to the party. Slowly, like a sloth, you moved until you reached the first approachable figure and struck up a conversation. The woman—tall, immaculately put together—turned with a ready smile. It was just too easy — this woman was a natural conversationalist. She spoke of her years at the bank, and just as easily got you to confess your future plans of assisting your mother, of starting your own business — what a miracle of a woman really. 

She advised you too. It was really not all that informative, just things you’ve already heard before, but you found yourself grateful nonetheless. If only because she relieved the stress in your muscles, they were lax now. 

“Mrs. Lee,” you hear a familiar voice from behind you. “I see you’ve met my beautiful, breathtaking girlfriend.” He finishes as his hand comes to grab your own, before placing a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes intently watching you. 

“Oh my,” the lady in front of you gushes on your behalf. “Young love in all its glory. You’ve got a remarkable girlfriend here, Gojo. She’s ambitious and sharp. You better be kind to her, you twerp.”

He laughed, that easy sound you’d heard a thousand times. “I try my best, Mrs. Lee. Now — Do you mind if I steal her away, I haven’t seen her in years.”

And just like that it was just the two of you — not in actual terms, but with Satoru, your mind tended to blur out the rest. 

“Hi,” you said, your voice soft, like you were waking from a dream.

“Hi,” he says, smiling back lazily.

“Hi,” you say again. Not really sure what to say next.

“Hi,” he said again. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you. Get the upper hand for once.”

“You’ve always had the upper hand,” he said like it was a fact too obvious to contest.

“That’s not true,” you reply, defiant. 

“It’s true, and it will always be true. Now give your poor tired boyfriend a kiss.”

And so, you do. Despite the crowd. 

The kiss wasn’t deep, restrained in a way that was unlike him. It seems Satoru may have found some shame after all. He stops kissing you but doesn't move further away from your lips. You can feel his breath upon your face, right on the side of your nose.

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” you say back, your hand still rooted in his hair, at his nape. “What tires my poor boyfriend anyway?”

“Why? You willing to fight the dragons.”

“The dragons wouldn’t dare fight me anyway.”

He chuckles. “No, ma’am. They wouldn’t.” A pause as his gaze lingered. “I like the gold in your hair,” he said, voice lowering. “Noticed it when you came back in.”

Your hand reached up, brushing the adornment lightly. “It’s your mother’s. She offered to put it on me.”

His eyes light up immediately. “She did? Wait — You met my mother already? I wanted to see you meet her. I can’t believe I missed it,” he frowns. 

“Aw,” you say. “I can always tell you how it went.”

“How did it go?”

“She saved me — this crowd is…” You look around, gathering all the prim and poised figures. 

“Pretentious?” he suggested, blunt as ever.

“I was going to say intimidating,” you corrected him, though his assessment wasn’t necessarily far off. You liked it though. The drama, the properness of it all — there was something about it.

“Please,” he scoffed. “They’re all insufferable, a bunch of stuck-up, overindulged jerks. Wine’s good, though. Need me to get you a glass?”

“Satoru,” you said, cutting him off, “I got you something. For your birthday.”

His face shifted, softer. “You being here is all I need. Don’t need anything else, this makes up for five birthdays at least.”

“You’re being dramatic again,” you say.“I’ll give it to you after the party—if you can find time for me. But it’s okay if you can’t. There’s always tomorrow.”

“No,” he says, bending down to leave a soft kiss against the edge of your mouth. “I’ll make time.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “Now go talk to that couple over there. They’ve been staring for ages—it’s creeping me out.”

He salutes you as he makes his way over and across.

—

"Ready?" you ask, seated behind the wheel, the evening air softly settling around you. “So, where are we going?”

“Nowhere special,” you replied, turning the key with a little growl from the engine. “But I’d still rather not tell you until we get there.”

He tilted his head, mock suspicion painted on his face. “The suspense, the mystery, the build-up…” He gasped dramatically. “You’re trying to steal my job, aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” you say, dry as dust.

“There can only be one of us,” he quipped.

“Well, you can just kill me. Skin me. Wear my face as your own and pretend until you’re caught.” The words spilled out, strange, unsettling, even to your ears.

“Why are you like this?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was amusement beneath it.

“I really, truly don’t know,” you replied, bewildered by the way your mind wandered into strange corners.

“I love it,” he says, sounding a little too close to the words you’ve been fearing, so you brush it off with a chuckle. 

“So, how long until we get to this ‘nowhere special but surprise’ place?” he asked, settling into his seat, limbs sprawling too long for the cramped space. You hope this ride doesn’t cause his back to ache.

“Half an hour, tops,” you said. “You can pick the music.”

“What?” He gasps again, mockingly scandalized. “Pinch me, so I know this is real.”

“It’s your birthday,” you shrug. “It’s the least I could do.”

He grinned — languid and lazy — a smile that makes you want to hit the brakes, stop the car, and kiss him stupid. But alas, you were a sane woman, on a mission so you drove on.

A few turns, a handful of bends in the road, and you’re there. Somewhere along the way, you’d asked him to cover his eyes, and, with a rare compliance, he obeyed—though not without protest. Now, as the car halts, he’s still singing a Lady Gaga song, his eyes squeezed shut for your benefit.

And so when the car halted as you helped him step out. 

“Ta-da,” you say, monotone. “The closest beach to the town — probably one you’ve been to a million times.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says — “The sunset looks really pretty.”

“It does,” you say, turning to look at the pink, orange hues in the vast horizon past the sea. “It’s really pretty.”

“So, this is my gift? I could die a happy man.”

And you think, to your surprise, that he actually means it. There’s something startling in the way he says it—so earnest, it unnerves you. “No—what do you take me for?” you mutter, pulling the picnic basket from the backseat, heavy with fruits, yogurt, chips, and a meticulously folded blanket, the kind you only bother with for these sorts of things. "I got you something, but help me set up first."

He takes the blanket, and sets it up for the two of you to sit, as you grab his present from the backseat. Then he drops down onto the left side, legs sprawled, arms braced behind him as he stares out towards the sea.

You seat yourself beside him, since you are in a dress, you try to bend and adjust so you aren’t flashing the outside world with your indecency, despite your shorts beneath the dress. 

“So…” you start, voice feeling too quiet against the roaring waves, as you hand him the jar. “Here’s your gift.”

His fingers brush against the glass, and you watch his eyes lower, briefly lingering on the cold surface, before lifting them to meet yours. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you said. 

And you did. You’d made the ridiculous decision to indulge his craving, driving almost two towns over to Al’s for his favorite cookies. Four, if you counted the miles from your grandmother’s. And all before noon, as if there weren’t a hundred better ways to waste a morning.

But you did. You did because you had decided the necklace you got him didn’t measure up. Not when the one he gifted you for 6 months, had real gems on them. 

You hope this makes up for it. Not materially, but the sentiments at least. You swear when you’re rich, you’ll splurge on this boy all you can, but for now, you cut your losses. 

“Thank you,” he says, setting the jar aside. “For driving all the way there.”

“The town’s so creepy and dead,” you say. 

“It is, baby. It is.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. “And you drove there. For me.”

“It’s whatever,” you mumble, pulling back with a small smile. “Let’s eat.”

The waves keep crashing, the sun low in the sky, casting a honey-gold light over everything. You hear the slow crinkle of the jar’s lid being unscrewed. Then his laugh. It makes you mush. It always does, but it feels heavier now somehow. You feel there’s something about being in the ocean that charges the atmosphere with something different, perhaps that is what’s it.

He pulls out one of the cookies, breaks it in half, and hands you a piece. His fingers brush against yours again. You accept graciously, as the two of you eat in utter silence, barring the sound of the waves.

“You spoil me,” he murmurs, taking a bite. His eyes never leave yours. 

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “You deserve it,” you say, leaning back on your elbows, your body sinking into the blanket. You tilt your head, gaze tracing the horizon where the sky meets the water, a blurry, infinite line. 

His hand finds your thigh, his thumb moving lazily in circles against the fabric of your dress, as he leans back onto his elbows too, to kiss you. This time it’s deep. His lips are hard on your mouth, as though you feel every contour of the molding of his mouth moving against yours. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Hi,” you reply, voice barely there.

“Thank you for the gift,” he says. “No one’s been this good to me in a while. You put a lot of time into this.”

You don’t say anything. Not sure what one can say without being cheesy. But if you were to say anything, you’d say it was nothing, not when you can see him beaming down at you like this, all dazed, all into you.

“I love you,” he says then. And your heart flits harshly against your chest. 

“What?”

“I wanted— I’ve been wanting to say it for a while,” he says, his thumb brushing against your hips. “In the car, and 2 months ago when you slept over after mid-terms. But I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You blink, your pulse quickening, the moment hanging between you, suspended.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says, his voice careful, and guarded.

“I do,” you say, the words tumbling out. “I do love you. I love you.” You mean it, and it terrifies you a little, but he’s smiling now. 

“Oh,” he grins, as he smushes into you, mouth first, tasting like salt and something sweeter.

“I love you,” he says again, voice low against your skin.

“I love you,” you say back, giggling. 

And then, he shifts—his body pulling away from you, the sudden absence of his warmth as chilling as the winds that whip across the beach. He sits up, dragging you with him.

“I have something else to tell you,” he says, and there’s a shift in his voice too—serious now, something grounded in his tone.

“What is it?” you ask, cautiously setting your mind for this, since he’s sounding serious in tone and stature. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he starts, hesitant, like he’s picking his words carefully. “I might drop out of college.”

“What?” The word feels like a punch, sharp and sudden. “Why?”

“I don’t care for it,” he says, his voice too casual, too careless.

“You don’t care for... an education?”

“Just business,” he clarifies. “I don’t really care about it. I want a change.”

Something mean, something bitter starts to rise in you, but you bite it down.

“A change to what?” you ask, calmly — your tone now guarded, your expression carefully neutral.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it’s the ease with which he admits it that grates at you. He doesn’t know, and he’s fine with not knowing. You don’t understand.

“What do you mean? You must want something else if you don’t want to do business, right?”

He turns to you then, and realises he should’ve predicted this, really. You loved plans, and you loved sticking to them. And this was was anything but that. He had a plan and he doesn’t want it. That’s bad enough. And now he doesn’t even have a new plan.

“Not really. I don’t know — I don’t want to do business, that’s all I know,” he says again, frustration creeping into his voice.

“Well,” you say, a little colder now, “you should probably figure that out.”

“Oh, really? Thanks, I had no idea that’s what I had to do.”

“Hey,” you say, softening your tone, trying to pull the edge out of the conversation. “I’m just trying to help. I just don’t like this situation for you.”

“I’m doing fine,” he says, trying to assure you that he hadn’t completely lost track of reality. “Dad hates this, but apart from that, no one really cares. There are so many options. I could change courses, take a gap year, intern—lots of things. You’re the only one bothered besides him.”

“Right,” you say, and that bitterness rises again, sharp and acidic in the back of your throat. “I forgot—you’re a Gojo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says. 

“It means you can drop out and still be fine. So I don’t have to worry about you.”

“So you don’t care that I’m dropping out?”

"I care, Satoru," you say, but it feels as though your voice is coming from some distant place now, a place he can’t reach. "Apparently, you don’t. You’re making this decision like it’s nothing."

“I’m not,” he snaps. “I’ve been unhappy for a while with the course. There’s no point in doing something I hate.”

“But to not have a backup plan? How can you make a decision like that?”

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he doesn’t understand. You see the distance between you—his nonchalance, your need for structure—stretching wide.

“Can we— I told you because it’s a big decision. I’ll figure it out by the end of summer,” he says. “But I wanted to let you know. I expected the judgement but trust me a little?”

“Okay,” you say. “I just — I would never be able to do what you’re doing.”

“I know, and I could never do what you’re doing. It would kill me.”

“Okay,” you say, suddenly feeling shitty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I trust you.” You bend forward leaving a kiss at the edge of his lips.

You sit in silence then — the wind getting colder and colder against your skin. The food growing staler, and it’s almost night now. The sun has set and you sit there, serene now, listening to the waves. 

You glance at him. His gaze fixed on the horizon, the sea’s dark expanse stretching out, infinite. His hair ruffling gently in the wind, and you notice the goosebumps pricking at his arms. It’s time.

“We should head back,” you say. “Your mother has a dinner planned, doesn’t she?”

He groans, his head falling back. “I don’t want to go.”

“But food,” you say simply, knowing that all the food in the world wouldn’t excite him to meet his family, and his extended family for a night of festivities. 

He turns to you, his eyes catching yours in the fading light. “I don’t want to go,” he repeats, quieter now, more real. “You’ll be busy with work soon. You’ll forget all about me.”

“Always so dramatic.” You move now, your limbs feeling heavy from the lack of motion. You move and straddle him now, his hands move to your waist in an immediate response. “You’re very hard to forget, Gojo Satoru.”

“Say more,” he says, smiling, beaming through his teeth. His cheeks alight red.

"No," you say, leaning back. "We should go."

"I’ll move if you give me compliments on the way back," he bargains, like a child.

“Or I could leave you here,” you say, titling your head. “All by your lonesome.”

“What a cruel, cruel woman you are,” he says, feigning a frown again.

“Let’s go,” you say now, feeling more and more convinced to stay here.

“Let’s just stay here forever,” he says, ever so ambitious. There’s a strange sincerity in his voice, to do the impossible.

You laugh, a brief, fleeting sound. "We wouldn’t survive long." You peer into the nearly empty picnic basket. "On just... Pringles."

"I could fish," he suggests, smiling again, "like in The Blue Lagoon. Build you a house out of driftwood.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d try.”

[peterparkouryo]

no way remedy | ꕥ

breaking news! | ꕥ

warnings: angst

word count: 4.3k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

"WHAT THE FU-" You hear Peter's voice exclaim a car horn blocking out his profanity, from above you after the very shocking detail you already knew, but it being revealed to the entire Times Square, and most likely the entire world was nerve racking, your heart seeping below your chest at that mere thought.

"That's right folks, Peter Parker." Jameson says as it cuts back to him, saying your boyfriends name as if the picture wasn't already clear enough.

You ignore the murmurs of the people by you, your eyes looking up toward Peter, the back of his masked face meeting your gaze.

"A seventeen year old high school delinquent." He adds to the public. You had tried to listen to a few more of his words, but the citizens that were surrounding you started dragging their attention toward you. 

You weren't much of a people person to begin with, which is why it was always hard for you to make friends. Your socially awkward personality only showing once more as the people around you started to pester you with questions related to the spider boy.

"She knows him."

"Are you Spider-Man's girlfriend?"

Questions and statements being thrown into your ear as people tried to gain your attention, tapping on your shoulder, your anxiety rising at the contact and the lack of air you were feeling from being too claustrophobic with how many people were practically suffocating you.

The man who asked if you were Spider-Man's significant other asked you once again, turning you around to face him and some more people who were just as curious.

"I-" You started, helplessly looking around, trying to get the people off of you in fear of the worst. You didn't want you knowing Spider-Man to harm you physically, so you tried your best to push them away without doing much effort.

Thankfully Peter caught onto your silent cry for help, jumping from the lamp post to come in-between you and the big crowd, your anxiety slowly going down now that he was near.

"Yo, it's him!"

"Spider-Man?!"

"Uh, whoa, whoa, whoa. Please don't touch her, sir." Peter warned the people who were jabbing at you, gently squeezing in-between you and the mob of people.

"You're just a kid?"

You give Peter a look, his hand on your shoulder, trying to guide you away from the people as they dazed at the two of you, most throwing insults and what not at your poor boyfriend in disbelief.

"You murdered Mysterio?"

"Um.." Peter trails off, hugging you closer to him.

"Peter..." You start, watching him quickly look at you as the once small crowd turns into a herd of people, swarming you and the boy like you were pieces of meat.

"We should get out of here." You suggested and he quickly nods.

"Come on kid, let me see the face!" A lady says before you two could go anywhere, lunging at him.

Your instinctive protectiveness comes in, you now hugging Peter closer to you away from the lady. Some citizens having a sense of morality, dragging the woman away from the two of you.

You swing a arm around his neck, his going to your waist as you two sprint through the crowd of people that seemed more like a mob waiting outside of a Taylor Swift concert.

"He hit me. Spider-Man hit me!" The same lady exclaims in a bare obvious lie, but you decide to ignore it.

You two swiftly get away from the people, who got crazier by the second, one boy even trying to jump onto the two of you as you now were swinging across the city.

You had momentarily forgotten just how scared of heights you were due to everything that happened in the pass thirty minutes.

"Oh god!" You scream, squeezing your eyes shut as your body was now tightly and hopefully securely wrapped around Peter's as he swung through the city away from the scene that unfolded in Times Square.

You had no idea where you two were going, but you supposed anywhere away from there was good enough, somewhere possibly more quiet where you two could collect your thoughts.

"Peter, where are we going?!" You managed to ask as your heart tightened in your chest with each swing the boy took.

"I don't know, your house?" Peter answered unsurely, he at this point was just aimlessly swinging around.

"No! Definitely not my house, my dad will kill you!" You tell him loudly, your eyes still closed at every word you said, you weren't going to risk letting your fear be just as worst if they were opened.

"What? I thought he was just starting to like me..." Peter replies in defeat.

"Well, not anymore." You scream.

Thankful to all the gods above, you and Peter land at the stable trusses of a bridge. The boy drops you down way too quickly for your liking and you have to fight your balance as to not fall, your boyfriend pulling out his phone to answer it.

"Dude!" You hear Ned yell as soon as Peter answers it.

"Dude!" Peter replies back in the same tone.

"Dude!"

"Dude!"

"Dude!" You say, miserably failing to keep your balance, Peter's attention shooting toward you in a heartbeat.

"Oh, right, sorry!" He sheepishly apologized, running over toward you to help you keep your feet stable.

"Are you okay?" Peter wavers, his question lingering in the air.

"Not at all." You admit for him and yourself.

One being, you were on top of a bridge, failing to keep your balance, your heart probably out of your chest out of fear, and two being because so much has happened in such a short amount of time. You don't think you can handle anything else any longer.

"I'm gonna get us out of here, okay?" He reassures and you nod.

"Yo, Peter!" Someone yells, your heads snapping to a few people in a gondola near the bridge.

A helicopter was soon to be seen, people from apartment buildings that sat outside their balconies watching as well. You wanted nothing more than to get out of here. The attention that you were receiving being too much for your liking.

"We should go." You tell him, already clinging to the boy and bracing yourself for the impact of his swinging.

"Right, yeah we should." Peter agreed, jumping from the trusses and swinging away from the attention, your screams weren't as loud as they were before, you kind of were getting used to it, but your heart dropped to its stomach every time no matter what.

"We're going to take the subway!" Peter yells at you throughout your screaming.

You don't answer as Peter free falls you two into a nearby sewer, his webbing opening it up as you two entered through it.

You could've sworn you saw Flash Thompson for a quick second, but you weren't all too sure.

Once you two entered the subway underneath the city, you opted on piggyback riding your boyfriend, feeling it'd be much more easier for the boy to navigate through the tight space.

"Peter!" You scream at him as a oncoming train approached you both, the spider boy dodging it a mere second later.

It felt like it had been forever when you two finally arrive at the ladder of a sewer exit, watching Peter climb it first before opening the round thing separating you two from New York, and you follow behind him. When you were close enough, Peter reaches out his hand to help you up.

"Thank you." You breathed out, giving your surroundings a quick look over, citizens who were walking the cemented sidewalk glancing at you, and you found it a little ironic how you two were in-front of Delmar's.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. Are you okay?" Peter asked you as he placed the round covering of the sewer back into place.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You reassure him, once again wrapping your body around his before he swung off, his webbing attaching to a lamp post.

"We're going to go to my place." Peter tells you through the wind.

"Okay!" You yell at him, closing your eyes as you embraced his hold.

Four or five minutes go by as you two swung through the city to Peter's apartment, your eyes remained closed as you felt Peter's breathing at rapid speed, which was understandable given the circumstances of the current situation.

After the five minutes or less of you two swinging, you finally arrive at his bedroom window, the boy sticking to the brick wall next to it as you climb off to open his window.

He helps you inside, and you practically fall in relief onto his bed.

"Oh my god." Peter finally breaks after rushing inside, closing his window.

"Y/N-" Peter starts, your head snapping up to look at him as his hands were on his head, walking back and fourth between his room.

"Peter, it's okay." You try to reassure, but to no avail.

You knew it wasn't going to be okay, but you had no other choice but to say the words both you knew weren't true.

You quickly sit up from his bed, going over toward him, watching the boy press the spider on his suit in defeat, catching half of it before it can fall to the ground.

"It's not okay!" He argued back, snatching his mask off his head and throwing it elsewhere in his room and you place your hands on both sides of his face, trying to calm him down.

"Oh no." He groaned, shaking his head as he leaned into your touch.

"Peter." You say sternly.

"I don't know what to do!" Peter tells you as his hands wavered at your waist, his hands tightly gripping his suit.

"Peter, it's okay, everything going to be okay." You say with a nod just as the door opens, revealing Happy.

You and Peter quickly look over at the man whose face turns pale at the sight of you two. 

"Oh, um.." You swallow, cringing at what it seemed like the two of you were doing given the face that Peter was half naked in-front of you, his suit falling from his hands watching Happy try to shut the door.

"I didn't see anything." Happy says, covering his face with his hand.

"Happy, it's not what it looks like!" Peter tries to reassure, your hands swiftly moving from Peter's face to your sides.

Peter's Aunt, who you had heard about comes into the room to see what was going on, her eyes quickly widening in disbelief.

"Oh!" She says, only seeing Peter's half naked body before going to shut the door once again.

"No, May, this is not what it looks like." Peter countered, and you nod in agreement at the inconvenient timing.

"Practice safe se-" May starts and your eyes widen as you furrow your eyebrows at what almost came out her mouth as she stops herself mid sentence.

"Oh, wait. Hi, you must be Y/N!" She says, coming back into the room where you awkwardly stood.

You quickly fix your (MJ's) cardigan, showing the lady, who was effortlessly gorgeous a forced smile as Peter nods before looking at his door.

"It's so nice to meet you, heard a lot about you." May tells you, giving you a friendly hug which you mirrored.

"'S nice to meet you too." You tell her quickly with a tight lipped smile as you two pull away.

You wished you had met the woman on better circumstances. The awkward tension only getting thicker by the second.

"Wait, have you been crying?" Peter asked Happy, who stood at the doorway with dried tears and a puffy face.

You tilt your head curiously, but quickly dismiss them looking over your boyfriend's room, having not been in here before.

He was a nerd for sure, a lot of dorky things decorated his room, things MJ would probably had made fun of him for.

"We broke up." The older man says shyly, peaking through the doorway.

"Oh." Peter says bewilderedly, you give his Aunt a look as she cringed sheepishly at his words.

"Hey, Spider-Man!" A man exclaimed through the window, and your mind trails back to why you really were here in the first place.

"Oh, uh.." The boy says in surprise, using his web shooters to close the blind of his window.

You notice a shirt laying on his bed, grabbing it quickly just as the light outside dims now that the blinds blocks the glaring sun from peaking in, as well as the people who for sure seen you two enter his apartment window.

You give a lazy smile to Happy, holding out the white T-shirt in-front of Peter, helping the boy into it quickly, hearing him mutter a 'Thank you'.

You catch glimpse at the "I survived my trip to New-York" graphic as Peter rushes May further into his apartment and away from his bedroom.

"I didn't know you guys broke up." He says as you trail behind the two of them, shutting his bedroom door.

"I thought you were in love, May." Peter quizzed bewilderedly. 

"We can talk about this in the kitchen." He says, putting a reassuring arm over her shoulder as he walked her to their kitchen space.

Your phone buzzed in your skirt pocket, as you and Happy linger behind Peter and May as the boy confronted his aunt about her relationship issues.

You were just about to pull out the device, but a different kind of buzzing grabs your attention.

"Is that the door?" The man next to you asked, his gaze wandering over to the front door that was left open.

You quickly go to shut it as a neighbour stood in-front of it, asking all sorts of questions he most likely wasn't getting his answers to anytime soon.

"Nope!" You say, shutting the door into his face, before pulling out your phone.

There was six missed calls from your dad and a text message from your sister, telling you to call her with a few emojis that you deciphered to be related to what was currently going on.

You unlock your phone going to your contacts to call MJ.

After a few rings, you hear her pick up.

"Oh my god, Y/N are you okay? Have you seen the news?" MJ practically exclaims from the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm at Peter's right now, it's really crazy." You tell her, keeping your voice down as you absentmindly wandered to the kitchen.

There was so much to be said, but you figured you'd wait till you got home to tell your sister exactly what happened, but you had a feeling you didn't need to given that she was there with you every step of the way and most likely seen the news or she wouldn't had been calling to ask.

"Is Peter okay?" She questioned.

You had no idea if you should answer that truthfully, with a half truth, or just lie instead. No one but Peter knows if he's actually okay, but you knew he wasn't okay with anything that was going on. To be fair, there were more ways she could be indicating the question, but you were lost at this point.

"I don't know, I-" You start, watching your boyfriend helplessly close the blinds in the living room as May and Happy now sat down in-front of the TV from the couch.

"Can you please get off your phones for five minutes. I just wanna talk to you about your relationship, okay?" Peter countered to the two adults as the background of the news channel played behind him, and your eyes widen as you adjust your gaze to recognize the building.

"MJ, let me call you back." You, hanging up the phone before she could say anything.

"Peter."Your voice says before your mind can register, pointing behind him after gaining his attention.

He turns around to look at the source of his TV, a few helicopters swarming around his apartment building, making their way over to one of the living room windows.

"Is that here?" Happy asked, his voice laced with a skeptic tone.

Peter seemed to be at a lost for his words, not knowing what to say as he stutters out a proper response, tilting his head down in defeat before shamelessly walking toward the window he had closed with his web shooters, opening it up to reveal the outside world he tried to shield them from.

May, Happy, and yourself walk over to the small window, curious to see just how bad the damage really was.

You stand next to your boyfriend, sharing a look with him as Happy and May look outside of the apartment place in utter disbelief.

"Wha-" May starts, but cuts herself off as a few pedestrians below yell out Peter's name, looking up to the window where the helicopters were aimed at.

"I mean, maybe it's not so bad?" Peter shrugged hopefully, his Aunt shooting him a worried look.

You were glad she was less mad and more worried.

You on the other hand, a shaking anxious mess, still recovering from the many people that lingered around you, and the amount of swinging you swore you'd never do again still crawling over your body. You had no idea how bad things would get from here on out.

"Spider-Menace!" Jameson exclaims from the TV in your living room. You could almost roll your eyes at his dramatics.

After the fiasco that took place at Peter's house, he and his Aunt figured it be best to take you home, as they tried to figure out what to do with the boy's identity being revealed to the whole wide world.

As soon as you get home you were bombarded with questions from your dad, who was more worried than mad at you for being with Peter. He was surprisingly understanding with the situation, but he never liked Spider-Man to begin with so you knew that after the situation died down, he'd dislike Peter more than he did before after finding out about his second identity.

MJ on the other hand already knew exactly how you were feeling. Her mind was racing with thoughts, thoughts only she knew you'd understand. There was nothing the two of you could do but hope for the best out of this situation.

"Governments around the world launch investigations into the murderer known as Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker, aka the web headed war criminal, who for years, has been terrorizing  the decent citizens of New York." The bias anchor exaggerates, and you let out a scoff from where you sat next to MJ, both you now cladding your pyjamas after a long day, well, long day for you at least.

Your heart only drops at the digital news paper that had, you, Peter, MJ, and Ned's face plastered on the front cover, the title saying "Peter's cronies revealed", before cutting to different digital magazines, and a brief footage of some jerk throwing slime onto Peter's suit.

"Well, now this city and the world see him for what he truly is."

You tune out the TV, sharing a look with MJ as your dad divides nothing but his full attention toward the TV. You feared he'd force you to break up with Peter, and you didn't want that one bit.

All three of your gazes break from the TV as a loud and obnoxious knock goes at your door.

Your dad quickly stands up from his spot from the couch, going over to the door, opening it to reveal a few agents, and a another one, holding a badge out.

You and MJ go to the door, lingering behind your father.

"Mr. Jones?" The guy asked, his voice stern.

"Yeah?" Your dad confirms with slow nod.

"We're the Department of Damage Control." The agent says, and MJ shoots you a look, and you shake your head quickly.

"Dad-" You start, but the agent cuts you off.

"We have a warrant for the arrest of your two daughters, Michelle Jones-Watson, and Y/N Jones-Watson." The man tells him, closing his badge before shoving it into his pocket.

"Arrest?" You father's eyes widen in disbelief, looking behind him at the two of you as your face falls in fear, MJ taking ahold of your hand.

"We just want to ask them a few questions, we promise to bring them back as soon as we're done." The Agent reassures, not sounding convincing at all.

Your father ponders, also not trusting the agent, but what was he to do? He couldn't refuse, but he also didn't want the two of you to face any charges or dangerous consequences.

"If you refuse, we will arrest you as well." He adds nonchalantly.

Your dad lets out a defeated sigh, giving you two an apologetic look, and you shrug sadly, your dad moving to the side to hesitantly let the agents inside.

You and MJ had arrived at the Damage Control's building after arguing with the agents to at least let you two change out of your pyjamas, wanting to look decent if you were about to get interrogated for no absolute reason.

Once you enter the building, a few of the agents lead you two to a investigation room you presumed, and at some point before you entered the building, May and Ned had joined you two as they guided you inside.

Your eyes quickly widen, seeing a familiar head set of brown curls inside an interrogation room, his face filled with worry.

"Peter!" You exclaim, the agents now quickening their pace behind you, slightly pushing you, your sister, Ned and Peter's Aunt away from him.

"Y/N!" Peter's muffled voice responds back from behind the glass.

He points to the four of you, saying something you couldn't quite catch, his gaze now on the agent standing above him.

You didn't want Peter to say anything he shouldn't say, hoping his smart personality had a chance to play through as he was interrogated by the man above him. You only hoped he didn't say anything he wasn't supposed to say already.

"Don't say anything without a lawyer!" You shout at him, May and MJ mirroring your words at the same time. You weren't expecting it, but happy they both had the right mindset you had as well.

When you four had made it into the further part of the building into more interrogation rooms, Ned and May were separated into two rooms by themselves, and you and your sister (mainly just her) told the agents you weren't going to say or admit anything to the them if you weren't by each-other's side.

They were reluctant at first, but when you two put your foot down once more, they gave in and put the two of you in the same room.

A few minutes had went by before the agent, whose name was Clearly, comes inside the room, you two expectingly waiting in boredom.

The agent sits down without saying a word, opening up one of the two files that sat in his hand, you glance at it, realizing it was your file, and you cringe subconsciously.

"We want a lawyer." MJ tells Agent Clearly, as he settles down, you break your gaze away from the file and up at the man.

"Mses. Jones-Watson-" The agent starts, but you cut him, shaking your head in disapproval at this address in-correction.

"Jones, we don't go by Watson." You quickly say, your sister giving you a nod from your peripheral vision.

He nods in understanding before clearing his throat.

"Mses, Jones, why do you want a lawyer if-" The agent starts.

"If we have nothing to hide?" You cut him off with a raised eyebrow.

"Exactly, Unless-" Agent Clearly starts as he raises both his eyebrows expectingly looking in-between the both of you.

"We're actually guilty of something?" MJ adds, cutting him off as well, the agent letting out a low impressed hum.

"We are very aware of your tactics and our rights." Your sister informs, she nudges your shoulder, gesturing her head at the false mirror next to you.

There was most likely someone on the other side who could see you through the window that's behind the so called mirror. You watched enough true crimes to know all that you needed already.

You and MJ wave at the person who was listening behind the 'mirror'.

"Just answer my questions." The agent sighed, you could feel his annoyed energy radiating off him.

"I've seen your files. You both are smart, young women with bright futures ahead of you." He informed the two of you, and your gaze slowly turned back to the man in question.

MJ poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek, also glaring at the man who really tried to break through the two of you, but to no avail. 

"Why would you risk it all by getting involved with a vigilante like Peter Parker?" Agent Clearly asked the two of you, but he shifts his gaze to you after he finished.

You wouldn't give him the satisfactory of an answer, sharing a look with MJ, who shrugs, and you look back at the agent who was probably awaiting for your answer(s). 

After a few heartbeats of silence, the man sighs in defeat, shaking his head before looking over at the false mirror, gesturing for the person behind it to dismiss the interrogation. He slowly gets up from his seat, collecting the files as you and your sister remain silent.

"Let me know when you're ready to answer my questions." The agent says, leaving the room hesitantly.

You were already facing trouble, no sense in causing more.

As promised, later that night you and MJ arrive back at your apartment. Your dad was sound asleep in the living room and you didn't want to wake him, the TV being the comfort background noise for his sleeping figure.

"Hey..." MJ says, breaking your gaze from your sleeping dad, and you turn to face her with raised eyebrows.

"We'll get through this." She says after you meet her brown eyed stare.

You nod, swallowing the lump you fought so hard against throughout the day down your throat.

"I know." You tell her, going in for a hug, which she reciprocates.

You two pull away after a minute of just embracing each-other. You were glad you had someone to go through this with, and you were also glad Peter had you as well. You knew this was the toughest on him and you would do anything to be with him right now, hoping you could make him feel better, feel safer, but you knew your dad would probably limit your hang out time with the boy.

Peter needed you just as much as you needed him. You knew he would get through this, he was the strongest person you knew.

[userastarion]

stephen sondheim was such a fucking legend and his music is SO complex and raw and honest and emotional through the stories he told, and it makes me incredibly sad that soooo many young people will just. not hear it.

[starry-bi-sky]

realizing i have. a lot of untapped trauma potential for clone^2 danny because i just Fully Processed Four Months Late the fact that his parents were capturing and torturing ghosts in the basement before he became Phantom. and the fact that he was on house rest for 2 weeks. during that time period. and he wasn't really leaving the house. he could hear their screaming through the floorboards

*points at clone danny* i can give you suuuuuuch a bad time babe ahaha. i've got two untouched years before you meet damian what fucks you up before then

[toytulini]

god I know this is like The Wrong Stance on AI. I know its not about whether the art is Real and Human or If It Has A Soul and how a lot of the arguments against it are the same bullshit arguments people made against digital art like I Know. I Knowwww. but god, I'm really sorry, not to post like one of those annoying poetry bloggers I cant stand (yall are valid, live your truth, theres nothing wrong with what you post I'm just a petty bitch who hates poetry. unless I dont hate it.)

But theres just something about the way AI art will almost certainly never be able to mimic the exact way my pencil leaves an indentation in the paper, the way some of the lines I can never fully erase cause I pressed too hard, theyll have to at least train them to draw with a physical pencil first, and sure, they could train it to draw with a pencil and even erase the exact same piece I drew, line for line, on a piece of paper with a robot arm powered by AI, but they can't replicate. idk. the lineage of lefty bitches in my family, and the way I grew up going through school with my entire left arm silver with graphite, from doodling on my schoolwork. not yet anyway. but I guess I do live for the day we make the ai sentient enough that we can traumatize it by giving it homework after kneecapping its executive functions so it copes by drawing a big tiddy lobster monster. sure

[naggingatlas]

you dont think its possible to feel like youre having a heart attack from a deltarune animation set to living fucking tombstone wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀“WHAT?! SEX BAN?!”

﹅ contains ;; gojo satoru , kento nanami , choso kamo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , geto suguru

﹅ alt title ;; how long the jjk men can withstand the sex ban

﹅ warnings ;; sorta sub!choso , whiny!choso , toji's part is more explicit than the others , this is my first time writing for some of the character so i'm sorry if i didn't describe them well

GOJO SATORU (3 days)

“are you serious?” gojo groans, slumping forwards. gojo watched in disappointment as you crossed your arms, looking away from him. "you did it so you have to pay." for weeks, you've been trying to tell gojo to separate the colors from the whites while doing laundry. him just wanting to get it over with, he dumped them all in the same load, ruining some of your favorite pieces of clothing.

"baby, please. i won't do it again," he begs, kneeling in front of you. but to no avail, you stood your ground.

it only took him 3 days to convince you to wave your white flag, surrendering to his seduction. "you look good in my shirts." gojo's hands caress your hips as he presses his chest to your back. "i would be in my clothes if you would just listen to me." you huff, "i never said i was disappointed." gojo whispered, his hard-on pressing on your ass.

“please. just drop the ‘sex ban’. i said i was sorry.” his lips make a trail of kisses on your neck. you needed him too. whenever he wasn’t around, you would use your toys, trying to not let gojo know you were sexually needy. but they didn’t work.

RYOMEN SUKUNA (not happening!)

no. just no. it’s funny that you even thought about putting that in motion. sukuna was too desperate for sex but never wanted to admit it.

“no,” he stood above, crossing his arms, making himself seem bigger than you (as if he even needed to do that). “you can’t deprive me of sex, woman.” he grunts. “but i can, kuna. that’s what you fail to realize.” you tut, standing up to walk away.

one of his four arms wraps around your waist, throwing you back on the soft surface. "you're not going through with this." he growls in your ear, crawling go top of you.

how dare you even think such a thing? you were his woman, his twin flame. you were the only person he showed the littlest respect to and you decide to do some foolery like this.

he tugs your shirt over your head, your bra coming next. his rough hands slide over your chest. "such beauty..." he whispers. "i'll make sure you never think of this again.

KENTO NANAMI (it was on accident)

his job was taking him away from you. between being a jujutsu sorcerer and a businessman, he couldn't find time to be a partner for you.

due to the lack of attention you were receiving, you became sexually pent up, having the urge to pleasure yourself at the worst times. the feeling of neglect was creeping up on you. some days, you forgot nanami even lived with you.

"love, i'm home." nanami tugs off his tie, tossing it to the side. "i don't know how long i can take of this." he rubs his temples, deeply sighing as he led himself to your shared bedroom. before his hand touched the cold metal knob, he heard your muffled moans and the squelching of your cunt.

he slowly opens the door, peeking in the room before fully entering. "it seems i've neglected you." he watches as you quickly cover yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked many times. he unbuttons the top of his shirt as he saunters to the edge of the bed, removing the covers off you.

"seems like i have some things to make up for."

CHOSO KAMO (not even a day)

"please." he whines, his head resting on your lap as he looks up at you. ever since you shared your first time with choso, he's been going at it with you like rabid dogs. if he wasn't inside you, his head was squished in between his thighs.

"choso, i need a break." you sigh, trying to remove him from off you. his grip on your legs was tight as he put his face in between your thighs, shaking his head. he was acting like he couldn't survive without your cunt somehow being involved.

"i swear, i'll leave you alone after. just please," he whined. you couldn't resist him for much longer. you hated when he got all whiny like a baby. he was spoiled because of you.

"fine." you undo the tie of your sweatpants before his hands swatted yours away, tugging your pants and panties off. "i promised you." he kisses your inner thigh before his tongue began flicking away.

TOJI FUSHIGURO (mans was balls deep in you the second you said it)

"you really think so?" he darkly chuckles, rubbing himself on you. "toji, i'm sorry. please." you whine, wiggling your ass on his cock. "i don't think you are." he teases, stepping away from you.

you whine, following him. "it was a joke." you press your hand on his chest. "did i laugh?" he tilts his head, smirking at you. you sigh, "toji, i'm sorry." you press yourself against him, your chest touching his.

"fuck." you knew he couldn't resist the feeling of your chest on him. it was like heaven to him. "turn around." he grunts, gripping your hips to turn you around, bending you over.

he easily slid inside of you due to how wet you got over time. "don't say stuff you don't mean, baby." he laughs, thrusting into your backside. it was worth it.

GETO SUGURU (you gave in after implementing it)

you wanted to test geto's limits, giving him an extra nnn moment which made you realize something. it was always you initiating sex. "geto, please. i give up." you whine, following him around the house.

he chuckles, "everyone must deal with their consequences, my love." he turns to you. he plastered a sinister smile, taunting you. he saw how much you needed him but he wasn't caving in until he heard you say it.

"i'll do anything. my hand isn't even working anymore." you simper. it was starting to become frustrating seeing how calm he was about all of this as you were suffering.

"i need you! is that what you wanted to hear?" you shout, earning a grin from him. he walks closer to you, his finger tracing your jawline, "why didn't you say that sooner, love?" he chuckles.

[lenoraslament]

Slytherin Boys React: Free Use

If I disappear I come back nastier 🤷🏻‍♀️

You and your boyfriend have a free use agreement.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, free use, CNC, degradation, oral (both), piv, fingering, breastplay, smut with no plot

Mattheo Riddle

Everyone knows Mattheo has an oral fixation. But not everyone knows that watching you put anything in your mouth drives him absolutely crazy. From biting your nails, to chewing on your pen, or sucking on a piece of candy. It drives the man feral. Feral.

After hours you two snuck into the girls bathroom so you could get ready for bed before staying the night in his dorm. You face the mirror brushing your teeth, you don’t notice the way he’s watching you. Gagging on your toothbrush lightly, a small white stream of toothpaste dripping down your lips. The way your pouty lips part as you bend over the sink to check your molars thoroughly.

Suddenly poking under your nightgown, he brushes his cock between your thighs. The smallest warning before he makes quick work of your panties and slides into your warm unsuspecting pussy. A muffled moan escapes your lip as he raises his brows in the mirror, shocked at how good it feels.

“Don’t stop baby” he whispers and you struggle to keep brushing as he thrusts lazily into you. Eyes staring only at your mouth even when you feel yourself clench around him. His focus is on thin line of toothpaste dripping out of your lips as he fucks you stupid.

Theodore Nott

“Mine”. That’s what Theo said as soon as you got to his room. Well he didn’t as much say it to you as he did to your breasts. He sat on his bed, his eyes immediately drawn to your chest highlighted by the little tank top you wore.

He reached his arms out for you and when you stood in front of him to give him a hug he immediately buried his face in your breasts.

“Mine…so beautiful” he muttered.

“Well hello to you too,” you begin to say laughing but he doesn’t respond. He is a man starved. His hands trail quickly from your back to the neckline of your top yanking it down. Yes our bra also becomes a casualty, they bunch at your waist biting into your skin. Immediately he licks a nipple. Swirling his tongue. Taking a little bite. Then the other. His hands squeeze softly, then possessively. Making you hiss at the pressure and moan when he sucks harder.

You feel the heat between your thighs building and your hips begin to keen forward as you moan.

“Mmm, Theo please,” you whine begging for more your pussy dripping needing to be touched. But he doesn’t hear you, he doesn’t care to hear you. He releases one of your nipples with a loud pop and looks up at you with swollen lips and eyes full of possession. It told you he was going to have you however he wanted.

“Mine.”

Enzo Berkshire

Your boyfriend had a way with words. He had a cute mouth, a charming mouth and every now and then a smart mouth. You had spent the better part of an hour listening to him chat and flirt with people at a party. Your friends, his friends, all genders. He couldn’t help it. He was just really that charming. It had managed to tick you off and arouse you all at the same time.

The party had left your mind feeling light and hazy but his behavior left a hot sting in your stomach. When you both stumbled into his dorm, his back hit he bed and he laid yawning.

“Must be exhausted after flirting all night,” you snapped not hiding aggravation in your tone.

Enzo only grinned like the charismatic little bastard he is, “really darling, don’t tell me you’re jealous” he practically purred knowing full and well you were. You made quick work of your panties sliding them down as she stood on the side of his bed.

“Not jealous just curious,” you teased as you began to climb in bed. He raised his eyebrow at you as your straddled his face.

“I’m curious if your mouth can do something that doesn’t piss me off,” your voice a mixture of frustration and lust. His hands found purchase on your hips as he pulls you onto his tongue. Eagerly he slides his tongue against you,his jaw moving aggressively. You feel him lightly suck on your clit as he rocks your hips against his face and your brain shortwires.

Draco Malfoy

You hadn’t even had time to fully form a thought about your transfiguration homework before Draco stuffed his cock in your mouth. You knew when his eyes looked like they did, cold and far away that it wasn’t time to give him any lip about it.

His quidditch loss had left him angsty. The veins on his hands protruding as threw his dirty uniform into the hamper. He only had a towel slung across his hips as he walked into his dorm. You sat at your desk about to open your textbook. The sight of you so calm, unfettered by his loss and so beautiful was almost maddening.

The towel laid on the floor, his hand cradled your jaw and he slid in. The thrusts were rough, you gagged softly as his other hand threaded into your hair. His lips parted, eyes unreadable, when he saw yours tear up as he pushed too far he finally let out a groan.

“There we go, pretty little slut” he let out in a breathy growl, “let me use you”.

Blaise Zabini

The metallic taste of the rings on his fingers on your tongue surprised you. You blinked your eyes open half awake. Your body had been flush against Blaise as you slept, unaware he had been staring for ten minutes dying to feel you.

When the saliva coated fingers dragged between your thighs, you let in a soft gasp. His other hand clamped your mouth as he softly teased your clit ignoring your whimpers. Hungry, searching finally when he felt you dripping and ready for him he yielded his touch. Shifting on top of you, his hand never left your mouth. He knew by the half lidded look in your eyes and the way your thighs spread open eagerly that you were needy.

He shoved his cock inside of you, burying it as deeply as he could as his face fell into your shoulder. His free hand pinning your hip so he could control the painfully slow and intense movement. He pushed you over the edge easily and when he finished he rolled back off of you leaving you dripping and breathless as he fell back asleep.

Tom Riddle

Many would assume that it would have been Tom who wanted to use you freely and not the other way around. True dominance for him, wasn’t taking you whenever he wanted. It was knowing he held your desire in the palm of his hand. Nothing made him happier than knowing that you needed him.

Tom was more than happy to lay nude on his bed, on arm behind his head and the other holding a book. The music he usually played while he studied replaced by the sounds of you moaning as you rode his cock eagerly.

Your skin glistened from effort, your cheeks flushed and breath heavy. Your whimpers and whines pleased him as he mulled over the Charm Theories text book in his hand. Only lowering it a moment to catch a glimpse of you trying to desperately chasing your high. You may be using his cock but he denied you the effort, the attention the friction you truly needed. And he loved it.

If you managed to fuck yourself to orgasm with your needy, pathetic movements he would be tickled. Amused. But he preferred you frustrated and desperate for later. Where he would have you on his own terms.

[lqvesoph]

Brother’s best friend || LN4

gif by @princemick

summary: you’re carlos’ sister and know lando from your brothers time at mclaren but now a few years later feelings might change

a/n: this is literally just a small piece i wrote a few weeks ago

warnings: bit of suggestive talk, alcohol

taglist | masterlist

"When did he get so fine?", you whispered to Rebecca who nipped at her cocktail. "Hmm?", she asked, not having paid attention.

You nodded over to Lando who stood behind the DJ desk, white shirt and headphones on.

Rebecca smirked. "Go over", she said, pinching your side softly. You shook your head. "I can't, you know I can't. If Carlos finds out- and besides I don't think Lando would-", you stopped when you saw Rebecca looking at you with her brows furrowed and a be-fucking-for-real look.

"What??", you defended yourself. "That boy has been crushing on you since 2019, Carlos scared him away back then but I doubt he'll still listen now. He's not 19 anymore", Rebecca told you.

Your heart skipped a beat when she told you but you tried to ignore it. "He's still Carlos' best mate, he won't just betray his trust like that", you shook your head and took another sip from your straw while glancing over to Lando.

"Just get the fuck up and talk to him, it's exhausting watching you two admire each other from afar", Rebecca laughed and pushed you a little.

"Wait he's looking at me as well?", you asked, getting a little excited. She nodded. "Yes, as soon as you're not looking- now for example", she explained.

You turned your head to meet Lando's green eyes piercing into yours through the dark room of people.

You nodded, gripped your drink a little tighter and stood up.

"Hey", you called over the loud music, leaning over next to the DJ desk. Lando smirked and wriggled his brows as a way to greet you.

He asked you something but you couldn't quite make it out and only looked at him with a head shake and a lost expression.

Lando leaned over the desk so his lips were close to your ear. His necklace, hanging down from his neck, being the only thing you could focus on.

"What's in your drink?", he asked, his hot breath meeting your ear. "Vodka Lemon", you called into his ear. Lando leaned back a little and held out his hand, signaling you that he wanted to try a sip.

You knew 2019 Lando never liked alcohol, in fact you couldn't recall a time where you've ever seen him drink. But you wordlessly handed him your glass and let the boy take a sip.

To your surprise he didn't grimace in disgust but took another sip. You reached out for your glass again. "Heyy, get yourself your own", you joked.

Lando laughed and carefully handed you the glass once again, his fingers lightly touching yours.

"You ever stood behind a DJ desk?", he asked, pointing to the mess of buttons next to him. You shook your head.

He held one hand out and wriggled his fingers. "Come on then", he demanded with a smirk and led you to the side where you could enter the private space.

"It's okay, I know her", he told the guy standing next to the small entrance before pushing the hip-high door open and let you in.

"Mi amor", he joked and took your hand. You chuckled and followed him.

"It's so many buttons!", you called into his ear, gracing his cheek slightly with the tip of your nose. His arm draped around your shoulders.

From the close distance you saw his slightly flushed cheeks and glaced eyes, along with the messy curls better than before.

"Come on I'll show you", Lando laughed and handed you the pair of headphones from his head.

He carefully put them over one of your ears, leaving the other free so he could still talk to you. Then Lando grabbed your hand and placed one finger on one of the buttons.

A loud remix-like sound arised and you flinched a little because you could hear it much louder and more clear through the headphones.

"That's so cool!", you called and pushed the button again.

Lando's left arm was still wrapped around your shoulders, his right hand was holding yours and guiding you to press the right buttons in the right moments.

You didn't notice but from across the room your brother starred Lando down with his glares.

"Why is he standing so close to her? He's way too close", he grumbled, taking a sip from his straw. "Let loose, they're not kids anymore", Rebecca smiles, wrapping one arm around Carlos' waist.

"She's 20", he defended you. "Exactly, she's not a child anymore", Rebecca talked to him in a smooth voice.

Carlos nodded but a frown was still visible on his face.

"Why is he touching her like this?", he asked after a few seconds of silence, pointing to Lando's hand that was wandering lower on your back. "Carlos, stop it", Rebecca chuckled and pulled him down on the couch, next to her.

A shiver went down your back when you felt Lando's fingers pushing themselves slightly under your crop top. You leaned into him a little further.

"What are you doing?", Lando softly mumbled in your ear, his hot breath hitting my skin. "What do you mean?", you asked, acting oblivious but pushing yourself further into him.

Lando closed his eyes for a second and his grip tightened around your waist. "Darling-", he hissed. "Lando", you whispered back. "Your brother is watching us really carefully right now", he mumbled against your neck.

"Then let's leave", you suggested, your heart beating because you didn't know if you went to far but Lando's low groan gave you confirmation that he was more than okay to leave.

You quickly put down the headphones that Lando had previously placed on your head. You grabbed his hand and he immediately linked your fingers, his hand feeling warm in your own.

"Cabrón!", you heard a voice yell behind you, immediately recognizing it as your brothers.

"Run!", you whispered but reacted too late as Carlos had already grabbed Lando’s shoulder. "Where do you think you’re going?", he asked, a stern impression on his face.

"Barbados, so we can get married in secret", you replied, rolling your eyes at your older brother. Lando suppressed a giggle and raised his arms when Carlos eyes landed on him again.

"Just taking her out for a spin, I promise I’ll get her back in one piece", the curly headed driver said, standing his ground under the watchful eyes of Carlos Sainz.

Your brother kept mustering the boy until you snapped your fingers in front of his face. "Cut it off, I’m not a kid", you scolded your brother before grabbing Lando’s hand.

"We’re leaving, I’ll see you tomorrow", you yelled back towards your brother and dragged Lando out behind you.

As soon as the fresh air hit your face you turned around to face Lando, still having his hand in yours. "I heard you’re taking me for a ride?", you grinned.

"You know that was an excuse", he laughed but moved towards his car. "Figured, but I won’t pass up on the opportunity to take a ride in your Mclaren", you giggled, turning around and leaning your back against the car. "I might just use you for your car", you smiled innocently.

Lando smirked and came closer, his knee pushing between your legs and his lips almost touching yours.

"Careful, I said I’ll bring you back in one piece, I never said anything about your ability to walk", he muttered, grabbing your waist firmer and pressing his lips on yours.

[mee-op]

Facts about in-game Yuu (Twisted Wonderland):

NOTES:

This is an ongoing list and will be updated with new information. I'm not caught up w/ chap 6 and I'm not very perceptive. This list is so long because of all the people who commented/sent asks, so thank you Last but not least, some of these might be a stretch/be slightly incorrect so bare w/ me plz :] More Yuu facts [ ONE / TWO ] <- not mine

They've been good friends with Heartslabyul ever since Book 1.

They're forgiving/don't hold any bad blood with the people who've overblotted (at least on the outside).

According to the Harveston event, they can play the flute.

They don't like mentioning that they might return to their world (Deuce's Wishing Star vignette).

Many people consider them a "goody-two-shoes" (Leona, Ruggie).

A good listener.

Based on Malleus' interactions with them, Yuu talks to him a lot more off-screen as he states that he values their opinions.

Loves Grim to hell and back.

It's implied that Yuu invites Malleus over frequently enough that he visits unprompted.

They can be snarky and brutally honest when they're pushed into it.

Comes up with stupid plans that nobody believes will work but it somehow does.

They're insecure about not having any magic.

They want to be able to help their friends.

Has a sense of self-preservation.

Does not actively seek out danger (*cough* om mc *cough*).

They've cleaned up Ramshackle since living there, however, it still looks "abandoned & ancient" on the outside.

Crowley doesn't give them more money than "needed".

Silver states that Yuu is good with swords (PE Uniform).

Both Jamil and Silver seem to think that Yuu is somewhat weird/strange.

They don't know much about mushrooms (Floyd's Camp Vargas vignette).

They're very patient.

Used to be afraid of ghosts until they got to Twisted Wonderland.

They adapt to new/difficult situations quickly and calmly.

They don't complain much.

Very much so the silent type.

The audience doesn't really see anyone helping them out with their situation, so I assume they fix most of their problems themselves.

They don't have any memories of the Great Seven before coming to Twisted Wonderland.

Fluctuates between being observant and not noticing really basic stuff.

Doesn't hesitate to say cheesy things.

Keeps calm in harsh situations.

They know how to play a blowing horn (White Rabbit Event).

Good with instruments.

Not a very good singer (NRC Uniform).

It's implied that they have high stamina.

They're interested in horseback riding and wants to play soccer with Sebek (PE Uniform).

They recommend a few books to Sebek, implying that they read in their free time.

They're short in comparison to Floyd (he calls them Shrimpy).

Grim comments that they're shorter than Vil.

Crowley mumbles that Yuu looks effeminate.

They're a bit of a romantic since they seem to often ask about love stories/fairy tales (Epel & Jade chats).

They have a habit of poking, tugging, tickling and just touching people in general. This is proven through the Home Screen character interactions, so their love language seems to be physical touch.

They get scared easily but is bad at scaring others (Halloween voice lines).

Vil notes that their uniform is baggy.

Malleus says that Yuu has gotten better at dancing (Masquerade Event).

It's implied that Yuu is good/decent at cooking since they have to make meals for both themself and Grim every day.

Yuu is decent at basketball (Ace Halloween).

Deuce remarks about a tiny piece of furniture in Ramshackle and asks if it's for Grim, meaning Yuu makes small furniture for him.

They're a good photographer.

Takes part in photography competitions (Rook Port Fest).

It's implied that Yuu carries their ghost camera everywhere because Crowley constantly makes them record events.

It's said that the game cards are actual photos that Yuu took with the ghost camera. [I don't know if this is true but a lot of people have said so]

Most, if not all the characters tell Yuu to hurry up when choosing a class, which suggests that they're indecisive.

Ace, Deuce and Cater tell Yuu to relax during classes or else they'll run out of energy.

Jack says that he got tips from Yuu while he was working in Monstro Lounge, implying that Yuu might've worked in customer service before (Book 3).

According to Grim, they have a hard time saying no to people, but when they absolutely need to-- they're very serious and a bit intimidating. "You're a real sap sometimes, you know that? Then again, when you bare your teeth it's no joke."

While they won't say no to helping others, they prefer to keep to themselves and avoid drama.

Yuu is sometimes a bit distrustful of Ace and thinks he's tricking them if he offers to do anything nice (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

It doesn't take much to make them happy. (Deuce & Idia 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They became nervous when Riddle invited them to a salon for their birthday. Riddle response saying "I'll be right there with you, and will instruct you in etiquette every step of the way."

They're competitive in class-- at least when it comes to Jack (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They took chess lessons to try and beat Leona in a match (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

For their birthday, Yuu asks Azul to get something that's supposedly hard for an average collector to acquire.

They're surprised when Kalim gifts them a pop-up card for their birthday.

They own a pair of fingerless gloves (gifted by Epel).

They personally invited Vil over for their birthday party and made sure to have healthy food options for him.

Not very close with Idia.

Owns a glass tumbler that reads 'Happy Birthday!' (gifted by Ortho).

Lilia gives them a CD with his screamo performances.

They were gifted so many presents on their birthday that they had trouble carrying the gifts around. (Malleus 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

[earthtooz]

cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

[little-dirty-fairy]

I'm desperate to be raped by any man, to be beaten in the night and dragged behind a dumpster to touch me and denigrate me, tell me how hard it made him for wearing those short clothes while they rub their hard cock against my ass and He tears off my clothes, pointedly ignoring my sobs and pleas, slapping my face when I try to call for help.

He sticks his fingers into my pussy that is just starting to get wet, pinches my clit while he pulls down his pants and starts rubbing against my hole, mocking how I ask him not to do it but my pussy twitches with excitement and drools all over his hard cock. .

He pulls my hair and pushes my head hard against the container while he rams my pussy hard, filling and stretching my needy hole, biting my shoulder while he keeps telling me how dirty I am, how slutty and desperate I have to be to moan like this. that way while I'm raped and fucked like a piece of trash, how he's going to burst my holes until he empties his balls full of semen inside me.

He cums inside me as I sob and beg for more, it feels so good that I cum, my legs tremble and my body shakes from the orgasm, he throws me to my knees on the floor before forcing his cock down my throat to clean up the traces. of semen and covers my nose to continue laughing at me.

I can feel the gaze of some curious person who listens to the strange noises in the alley and his murmurs, I try to let go for some air because my head is spinning, my rapist laughs when he notices that we could have an audience and he lifts me up abruptly to tighten my grip. tits, whispering that he is going to take me somewhere else, with his friends so that he can show them the little toy that he found on the way, everyone is going to like to play and use my holes until they are no longer useful.

The idea fascinates me, my pussy dripping with semen contracts into the void and I cling to the stranger, hoping to find more cocks willing to get into my holes.

[vivwritesfics]

The Sex Playlist

How the fuck does Super Max find it's way into a sex playlist? And why the fuck did they have to find out during sex?

Warnings: smut, p in v, dominant reader, crack fic, h*lmut m*arko mentioned

The sex playlist. It was a carefully curated list of songs that they played to cover up the sounds of sex in a hotel room on a race weekend. The songs had been picked, tried and tested in the safety of their Monaco apartment.

No song in that playlist had been put in there by just one of them. It was a discussion they had, the both of them sat there, listening while they decided.

But you know what Spotify is like. It's so damn easy to unintentionally place a song in a playlist it wasn't meant to be in. It had happened before, in the safety of their Monaco apartment. In that instance, Max had pulled out, gotten up, and skipped the song. They later removed it from the playlist.

As far as either of them were aware, neither had added a song to the sex playlist since the last race weekend. As far as either of them were aware, every song had been tried and tested. They didn't need to go through it before the Zandvoort weekend.

The Zandvoort weekend. Max had gotten plenty of streaming done over the break, and Helmut had made it clear that he wasn't to stream over this race weekend. He was itching to do something as he laid in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling.

He needed some form of stimuli.

Sitting up, he grabbed a hole of his phone. His girl was at the tiny little desk in the hotel room, tapping away at her laptop. Normally that's where Max would have been set up to stream. But she was working on her thesis, something Max respected greatly.

But he wanted attention.

Placing his phone on the bedside table, he pressed Play on their shared playlist. The music started, and she visibly stiffened.

"Max," she said slowly, turning in her chair. "What're you doing?"

He stalked towards her, a predator with it's prey in it's sights. His hands touched her shoulders, moving in slow, circular motions. She couldn't deny that it felt good as she threw her head back to look at him.

As soon as she did that, his lips were on hers. "I'm bored," he mumbled against her lips, his hands slipping over her shoulder to settle over her chest. Not touching her anywhere inappropriate, yet.

"What do you want me to do about it?" But she was smirking as she said it. Her hand came up, grabbed a hold of his arm. Her finger tapped his arm to the beat of the song. He'd railed her to that beat before.

Standing up, she pushed him back towards the bed. Max went with it, grinning as his body bounced. He propped himself up on his elbows and watched as she stripped herself down to her underway.

Her hips swayed as she walked towards him. He made grabby hands at her, hands which she pushed away as she sat in his lap. She held his hands above his head. It would have been so easily to break out of her hold, but Max didn't want to.

"Hi, baby," she whispered, gently touching his face. "Are you gonna be good for me?"

Desperately, he nodded. If that was what she wanted, he was going to be so good.

But she suddenly gripped his cheeks, forcing him into a pout. "Words, Max," she said, fingers on the button of his jeans. Ready to pop it and free his dick.

He didn't mean to buck his hips up as he said, "yes. Yes, I'll be good for you."

That was all she needed to hear. She freed his dick and held it gently in her hands. But then she was moving above him, the silk of her underwear like heaven against the skin of his dick. "Fuck," he groaned and threw his head back.

He didn't mean to free himself from her hold. The minute his hands moved, an involuntary reaction to the pleasure he was receiving, she stopped. She looked at him, gaze piecing. A whimper left his lips and he quickly put his hands back above his head.

As soon as he had, a satisfied smile covered her face. She released her hold on him and stood up, but Max knew better than to move.

Pulling off her underwear, she climbed back on top of him. His hips moved involuntarily when she sat on him, when he felt just how wet she was against his dick. "Please," he whimpered.

She sank down onto him. When Max was on top, it was normal for them to sit there for a moment enjoy the feeling. But not this time. She immediately moved her hips to the rhythm of the song, hips rolling down onto him.

The song was barely audible over Max's moans and whines. Her grip on his wrists changed, instead holding his hands, fingers laced between his own. It was loving, a stark contrast to the way she was bouncing on his cock.

But then the song ended. She didn't change her rhythm, kept it up until the next song came up. Her rhythm would change then, change to match the next song.

The familiar sounds of F1 cars filled the room. The two of them looked at each other, brows furrowing as the singing filled the room. Sitting on top of him, she looked at the phone as it played Super Max of all songs.

Beneath her, Max was laughing. His laugh had her bouncing slightly, hands coming to settle on her hips now that the spell was broken. "How the fuck did this get in here?" He asked as his thumbs moved over her hips.

Her cheeks were hot as she looked down at Max. God, he looked so pretty beneath her, grinning as he waited for her reaction.

Her reaction was simple. She rolled her hips against him, and the grin was wiped from Max's face. "Fuck," he groaned, watching her. "Wait, we're not fucking to this," he said, lip pulled between his teeth to stop moans from spilling out.

Her hands rested on his chest. "Yeah, Super Max, we are."

His hands dropped her hips, giving up his control.

[devildomwriter]

They Discover You Doodling Them in Your Notebook | Brothers x Reader

2k+ words | no warnings | GN! Reader

Lucifer

You sketched in your notepad as you listened to the teacher drone on about a subject you had little interest in. Every once in a while you’d glance over at Lucifer and it didn’t go unnoticed. At first, he suspected you might be looking over to make sure he didn’t catch you doodling and slacking off again but he left it be for now as Mammon was the bigger issue to deal with in class.

The teacher glared at you from the blackboard and tossed a piece of chalk your way. As a demon Lucifer knew the throw would be too hard and quickly intercepted it, glaring at the teacher and tossing it back hard enough the chalkboard broke.

Everyone in the class was paying attention now and mumbling amongst themselves.

“Silence,” Lucifer shushed them.

“We aren’t the ones making a big scene,” Asmodeus complained but was silenced with a single look from his eldest brother.

You were blushing at the commotion you accidentally started and tried covering your notebook but Lucifer quickly confiscated it to see what had your devoted attention.

He was momentarily surprised before he smirked and handed the notebook back to you which you’d covered in sketches of him.

“This isn’t art class, ___, please pay attention,” he said but to his brothers and you it was obvious he was delighted by what he’d seen.

After RAD ended he called you into his office and requested you draw some more, that way he could ensure he was the only thing on your mind as you spent time together that evening.

Mammon

Mammon was filling you in on his latest get-rich-quick scheme and to pay attention you began to doodle absentmindedly. You found it easier to pay attention when you weren’t being forced to and he knew this so he wasn’t offended by your doodling.

“Right, so if we pretend it’s some kind of charity—“ you cut him off and brushed a piece of his hair behind his ear. He blushed and jumped back.

“Yo! W-what was that for, huh?”

You went back to doodling and he huffed and walked behind you to see what you were sketching but you quickly bent over the notebook to hide it from view.

“Hey, c’mon!” Mammon griped and tried reaching for the notebook but he couldn’t do so without prodding you in your chest and the touch sent his hand flying back in embarrassment.

“Shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to… seriously though what are you drawing?”

“Can you keep telling me the plan? I’ll show you after?” You encouraged so he puffed and gave in. He stood back in front of his projector and changed slides. He’s thoroughly prepared this scheme unlike some of his others. It was definitely illegal and Lucifer would stop him before he started but it was fun to listen to him so energetic and happy.

As promised when he finished, and he made sure to do so quickly, you showed him your notebook and he clutched it, blushing and looking away.

“D-damn, yer pretty good at this ___. Y’know I can model for you anytime right?”

“Would you consider nude modeling?”

“Would I—huh!?” He yelped but paused and hid most of his face with your notebook. “If-if it’s you…then yeah…I wouldn’t mind,” he stuttered and you smiled and nodded.

“Let’s get started right away!”

“Huh!?”

Leviathan

“LET’S GOOOOO” Leviathan cheered as he focused on his PC. He’d invited you to his room to cheer him on as he tried the newest level of his racing game.

He turned the steering wheel he’d hooked up frantically as the difficulty increased.

“Water,” he requested so you set your notebook aside and handed him his water, he sipped some through a straw before pulling back. “Thanks!”

You weren’t just a cheerleader, you made it your mission to make sure he stayed hydrated and didn’t get too lost in his game.

You didn’t find the game particularly interesting though so you began doodling him, anime-style, in your notebook.

He didn’t mind much, as long as you were there supporting him. He knew it wasn’t like he could have your attention 24/7 as much as he wanted it.

“Come on, almost there!” He muttered through grit teeth as he hyper-focused.

You drew his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel and made sure to capture the serious look in his eyes as he stared at the screen.

Leviathan quickly glanced at your notebook to see what you were drawing this time and the surprise sent him reeling so much so that he knocked his steering wheel off the desk and fell from his chair, immediately losing the game.

You jumped up in surprise and rushed over to help him up and comfort him but before you could he snatched up the notebook and you put together what’d happened.

“Oh—um!”

“Th-th-this is GREAT!” He cheered, his demon form popping out and his tail wagging in excitement as he hid his blushed face. “Y-you’re really drawing m-me? Are you sure you want to waste paper like that!?”

You shook your head and lightly slipped his cheeks as you cupped his face which startled him, “these are my most important pages in this notebook,” you said seriously and his blush turned into a deep red engulfing his body as he tried processing his happiness.

All he managed to stutter in response was “W-wow…”

Satan

You sat across from Satan on his couch as he read his latest book involving a detective and his cat sidekick.

Your heart fluttered whenever you saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. Occasionally he’d prod your knee to make sure he had your attention and read aloud a passage to you he thought was cute or funny and you’d giggle in response whether you felt the same or not.

You continued to doodle in your notebook, trying to quickly capture the smiles across from you. His face was so expressive as he read and he’d know if you pulled out your D.D.D. so the best you could do was quickly sketch it down and occasionally a doodle cat sitting on his head. You thought he’d appreciate it whether he saw the notebook or not.

You nudged Satan and motioned to your cup so he knew you’d be right back.

After you left he eyed your notebook and quickly flipped it open, tossing aside his book. He blushed and stared at the drawings. He was enamored with the cartoon cats but for once the cats weren’t the most important part, it was the fact you drew him. He noticed the pencil lines indicated you were sketching quickly, and they appeared darker around his mouth. He realized you were trying to capture his smiles and he made his heart flutter.

You nearly dropped your water in surprise when you found him flipping through your art. He was so entranced he didn’t even notice you walk in. Now you finally had a chance and before he could react you quickly pulled out your D.D.D. and snapped a picture.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus had insisted you keep him company that morning as his makeup was going to take longer than usual and he’d be bored. As the nice person you occasionally were, you got up early, and in an effort to keep yourself awake, you doodled in your RAD notebook but quickly ran out of ideas.

As you listened to Asmodeus explain his routine in detail and why it helped accentuate the beauty that was already there, you decided he’d be the perfect model and began sketching him.

You made attempt after attempt but true to his word it was nearly impossible to cloture his beauty so you decided a more cartoonish manner would be fitting so you weren’t pressuring yourself for detailed perfection.

At some point through the routine, Asmodeus noticed you weren’t paying attention to him and stuck out his lower lip in a pout. You didn’t notice until you glanced back up to continue your sketch.

“Oops, sorry Asmo. I’m paying attention, I promise.”

“Really hon? Because it doesn’t look like it? How can you possibly nit be enamored by me right now? I’m so beautiful what could possibly have your attention? Hm?”

You blushed but decided to prove yourself and handed him the notebook. His eyes lit up, practically sparkling.

“Oh myyyyyy!”

He gave you a soy grin after flipping through more and you had a feeling you knew what he’d ask. “Forget the makeup! Let me model for you! I want you to draw me au natural!”

Beelzebub

You sat on the bench in the RAD Fangol field as Beelzebub practiced with his rowdier teammates. Occasionally you’d look up to see he’d accidentally sent someone flying. He looked so guilty until they got up and reassured him they were fine.

Your D.D.D. battery was low and you didn’t want to seem entirely disinterested in the sport you didn’t understand well so you took out your notebook to try and take notes but they were cluttered and nonsensical so your mind wandered to doodling.

First, you doodled Beelzebub’s jersey number. Then stick figures of some of the poses he did. But eventually, you began trying harder to actually draw him. They weren’t professional by any means but you enjoyed trying to capture his overwhelming cheery presence.

You were so absorbed in your notebook that one of Beel’s teammates pointed out to him how studious you were and he knew that wasn’t the case so he jogged over to see what you were doing.

You noticed him when he was a few steps away and quickly shut your notebook and put it aside. You handed him his water bottle thinking it was what he wanted and bent over to get a towel for his sweat.

“___ what are you writing?” He asked you. You blushed and hid the notebook in your bag but upon seeing your flustered face, Beelzebub decided he had to know and reached for your notebook.

“Wait, it’s kinda embarrassing!” You protested but he took it out anyway as you didn’t feel like wrestling his sweaty arm away.

He found the page you were on and blushed, “o-oh,” he said silently as his eyes skimmed the page. His smile widened at all the doddoes and he thought the stick fugues were funny so handed it back to you.

“These are good! Let me show you some more cool moves you can draw,” he beamed and ran back out to the field to play.

Belphegor

Belphegor was drooling on his desk next to you and no one was waking him up because Beelzebub was eating and Lucifer was trying to get Asmo away from his mirror and Levi off the D.D.D. Meanwhile, the teacher tried hard to ignore it all and continue the lesson.

Poking Belphegor didn’t work and with no one to talk to you were bored and the arithmetic lesson tired you and made you feel like you really were in hell.

With nothing else to do and no worthwhile notes to take you started sketching the snoring demon beside you. Whenever he looked like his snore would be too loud, you covered his mouth to better hide him from Lucifer.

The bell rang but you stayed behind in class and promised to meet the brothers at the cafeteria in a minute. Knowing they’d be interested in sketches you lied and told them you were only taking math notes.

Many minutes passed and a somewhat realistic drawing of Belphegor filled the page of your notebook. You held it out to admire your work when it was taken by a half-awake Belphegor.

He looked at the page and smiled cheekily. “Wow, ___, that’s really good.” He complimented as he yawned and sat up.

“Where is everyone?” He looked around.

“The cafeteria.”

“Oh good, so it’s just us…how about you nap with me instead of sketching? I promise you can do that later at home.”

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper reader x undercover bodyguard bucky)

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

word count: 3.3k

author's note: wow okay this kind of got away from me. this is probably the filthiest thing i've ever written. felt my heartbeat in my pussy while writing this. hope you enjoy!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

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