#forwes

[mail-me-a-snail]

oruug. if u cuddle johnny silverhand he is all spindly legs and elbows but he's soft around the middle n once he wraps himself around you he's not going 2 let go . ahaaa

[bittersweet-zarzamora]

I love alcohol <3

[flesh-n-brain-rot]

help i knitted something cozy and now im so comfy i cannot move!!

[fishing-ball-z]

OH i porgot daima day. Tear

[dandysworldings]

i could prob fit more symbolism into twisted astro's design but honetly. i kinda wanna make him a dragon.

[bojackhorsemanobviously]

thinking of angela diaz and how the show tries to make it later seem like she had zero power over bojacks career when she was def the higherup above him who def had more power as the network executive . .. somehow she even knows about his movie offer and is just manipulative and skeezy woman, i dont think the show can make a point about bojack having power over her when she's was the scary boss lady

[morfinwen]

[stripedchickens]

Happy November 1st to me and my hat flying off my head five times yesterday!

[exnusquam]

Music box

Send me "Music box" and I'll post a song that I think fits your muse!

Slow and Steady - Of Monsters and Men

[mobiused]

Vetted by @gaza-evacuation-funds

Abood Al-Qudra is facing a genocide alone. He's a 25 year old university student who has lost everything - his home, his business and many of his friends and family.

All he wants is to get him and his family members out of Gaza. Currently he has only managed to raise funds for 2 out of 18 family members.

Please do whatever you can to help by donating and sharing!

[theropoda]

please don't think you should stop helping palestinians because there is a ceasefire now. even if there is no more active bombing and shooting, people still struggle to survive. people return to their houses to see them in rubble, people still struggle to afford necessities like food, water and clothes, still have only tents over their head, and have lost their jobs with no means of income to support themselves or their family. this isn't even touching the mental turmoil people are going through which is unimaginable.

palestinians still need help. they are still struggling. so please consider helping them: donate to aboud al-qudra, a man who has lost so much family and friends, alongside his business which he has worked so hard to achieve.

even if you cannot donate, please reblog, so other people capable of doing so can find it and donate.

€9,891/€25K goal

you can also donate to his paypal here:

campaign vetted here

[sillyandquiteawkward]

Aboud asked me for help with his fundraiser! He's only 24 and was the owner of his own business in Gaza before the war started over a year ago, destroying his home and store. Now him and his family are struggling due to inflation from shortages.

He's only raised €7,232 out of his €25,000 goal so far. Please consider donating to him!

If you donate, reminder I am drawing for those who donate to Gaza fundraisers or donated esims! Donate and get some art! (more info on the post linked here)

His gofundme has been verified by @gaza-evacuation-funds (Link here)

@aboodalqedra13 🇵🇸

[stxrryabyss]

*Urgent* 📢

Please donate to this lovely family so they can continue with their lives peacefully. A small amount goes a long way. Thank you very much.

🇵🇸❤️🇵🇸❤️🇵🇸❤️🇵🇸❤️🇵🇸

[chokulit]

Abood needs your help

Abood of @aboodalqedra-3 has been fundraising since late August and is only at:

€6,926/25,000

Still not even 1/2.

I will post updates when I can.

Reminder that i can draw for you if you donate: x

tags under the cut (dm to remove tag):

@vakarians-babe @sar-soor @plomegranate @nabulsi @sayruq

@palipunk-blog @communistkenobi @queerstudiesnatural  @bluebellsinthedells @rizzyluke

@kordeliiius @self-hating-zionist  @raelyn-dreams @unfortunatelyuncreative @licencetokrill-blog

@jezebelgoldstone @ramelcandy @labutansa @sammywo  @autistwizard

@tortiefrancis @sparklinpixiedust @revcuse @golvio @leftismsideblog

@star-and-space-ace @rainbowywitch @marscodes @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @boyvander the-bastard-king

@ammonitetheseaserpent @girlinafairytale  @timetravellingkitty @appsa @applejupiter

@brutaliakhoa @malcriada @retvolution @deansmultitudes @devilofthepit

@heritageposts @wellwaterhysteria @dykesbat @gorbling  @half-empty-orbitals

@seasnipper @90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @fairuzfan @neptunerings

@marnota @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf

@belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @animentality @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish

@violetlyra @the-bastard-king @tamaytka @northgazaupdates2  @skatehan

@awetistic-things @nightowlssleep @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @friendshapedplant

@mangocheesecakes  @commissions4aid-international @rwuffles @mogai-sunflowers 

@a-shade-of-blue @ibtisams @paper-mario-wiki @dlxxv-vetted-donations @writerqueenofjewels

@the-ballerina-battle @khanger @maoistyuri @acepumpkinpatrick @thetownwecallhome

@aria-ashryver  @bat-luun @staretes @yokohama-crackhouse @omiteo777 

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationist @sawasawako

@aristotels @watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap

@deepspaceboytoy @kibumkim @socalchops @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli

@swagvo1d  @himejoshikaoru @rooh-tawaka-blog @deathlonging @briarhips

@mahoushojoe @mazzikah @bixlasagna @anetteva @timetravellingkitty

@battleofthegarys @nillabean @fromjannah  @ankle-beez @spindlesx

@squidie-tittie @shiskabubble @oursapphirestars @fitzfunnymoments @jonpertwee 

@buttercuparry @bloglikeanegyptian @visoremi  @olovelymoon-read-pinned-post @pinkhit-s

@purple-splattered-soul @papasmoke @one-time-i-dreamt  @operationladybug @undertastic-dork

@imjustheretotrytohelp @yesterdaysprint @tamarrud @themazziah

@resourcesmasterposts @raccoon-in-a-hoodie @ezrazone @emathyst9 @wolfythewitch

@queerdocumentary-blog @quecksilvereyes @anneemay @angelslough @averagenotnormal

@sleevesareforlosers @sinnamontrash @determinate-negation @dormimi-zzz

@fuckyeahanarchistposters @gerbildine  @generallyjl @good-old-gossip @heydreamchild

@jezior0 @komsomolka  @lesbianmaxevans

[novaursa]

The Storm Between Us

- Summary: You save your brother's life and fight with Aemond above Storm's End.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The winds howl as Vermithor’s wings slice through the storm-laden skies above Storm’s End. Rain pelts your face, seeping into your armor, but you care little for the discomfort. Your focus is singular: Lucerys. Your younger brother and his dragon, Arrax, are locked in a desperate race to escape. Behind them looms death itself—Vhagar, the ancient, monstrous dragon ridden by your uncle, Aemond Targaryen.

Through the sheets of rain, you see the faint silhouette of Arrax struggling against the gale. Lucerys is just ahead, the boy’s form hunched low over his saddle, urging his dragon faster. And then you see it—a dark shadow, impossibly large, wings spanning the heavens. Vhagar.

Your blood runs cold, but you grit your teeth, leaning forward on Vermithor. The Bronze Fury beneath you snarls, sensing your determination. You pull at the reins, commanding him into a steep dive, cutting through the storm with the precision only a dragon of his caliber could manage.

“Vermithor, faster!” you urge, your voice barely audible over the roaring wind.

As you near the chase, the sight of Aemond on Vhagar’s back becomes clear. He is a dark specter amidst the storm, one sapphire eye gleaming like a beacon of malice. His lips curve into a cruel smirk as he spots you closing in.

"Well, what is this?" Aemond's voice booms through the storm, cold and mocking. "Another lamb come to the slaughter?"

“Let him go, Aemond!” you shout, your voice rising against the wind and rain. “He’s a child!”

Aemond laughs, low and humorless. “And you think you can stop me, niece? You have no idea what you face.”

But you do. You know the risk. Vhagar is older, larger, and more vicious than any dragon alive. And yet, you cannot let Lucerys die. Your hands tighten on the reins as Vermithor bellows a challenge, his roar shaking the very stormclouds around you.

“Dracarys!” you scream, and Vermithor answers. A stream of fire bursts from his maw, cutting through the rain and illuminating the sky. Vhagar twists, her massive wings flapping once, twice, and she evades the flames with an ease that makes your stomach drop.

Aemond pulls Vhagar into a sharp ascent, taunting you. “Come, little dragon! Show me your fire!” His voice is laced with glee, the thrill of the hunt.

You don’t hesitate. “Up, Vermithor!” you command, and your dragon surges after them. The storm rages, lightning crackling dangerously close, but you hold fast. Every time Vhagar veers, you follow. Every time Aemond tries to outpace you, Vermithor matches him.

Below, you catch glimpses of Arrax and Lucerys disappearing into the clouds, fleeing toward safety. Relief floods you, but it is short-lived. Aemond has noticed as well.

“Is that your plan, little niece? Sacrifice yourself for your precious brother?” His voice is venomous, filled with disdain. “Fitting, I suppose. Two bastards for the price of one.”

The words sting, but you refuse to rise to his bait. Instead, you focus on the fight. Vermithor snarls, his claws extending as you near Vhagar. The two dragons clash mid-air, the force of their collision sending a shockwave through the storm. Vhagar’s massive tail lashes out, narrowly missing Vermithor’s wing. Vermithor counters with a slash of his claws, raking across Vhagar’s armored hide. The roar that follows shakes you to your core.

The rain blinds you, soaking through your hair and plastering it to your face, but you hold fast to the saddle and reins. Vermithor heaves under you, his muscles rippling as he strains against Vhagar’s might. The Bronze Fury bellows again, his jaws snapping dangerously close to Vhagar’s throat.

“Give up, niece!” Aemond’s voice carries through the storm, his words laced with cruel delight. “You cannot win against Vhagar!”

You do not answer. Instead, you lean forward, urging Vermithor closer. He responds with a feral roar, his claws slashing again and again at Vhagar’s flanks. Vhagar counters with a snap of her jaws, her teeth grazing Vermithor’s neck but failing to find purchase.

The dragons twist and turn in the air, their roars echoing across the storm-tossed skies. You can feel Vermithor’s rage, his unyielding determination to protect you, as he fights with every ounce of his strength.

And then it happens. Aemond shouts something to Vhagar, and the older dragon lashes out with a ferocity that catches Vermithor off guard. Her massive claws tear into his side, and you scream as Vermithor roars in pain. He falters, his flight unsteady.

“Vermithor, hold on!” you cry, desperation in your voice. You pull at the reins, trying to steady him, but the damage is done.

Vhagar circles above, triumphant. Aemond looks down at you, his face a mask of cruel satisfaction. “It’s over.”

But you’re not done. You refuse to be beaten. With a final burst of strength, Vermithor lunges upward, slamming into Vhagar with all his might. The force of the impact sends both dragons spiraling out of control, their wings entangled, their roars deafening.

You clutch the saddle with all your strength, your heart pounding as the world becomes a blur of storm clouds and dragon scales. Rain lashes at your face, and the wind tears at your armor, but you refuse to let go.

Then you see it—the ground rushing up to meet you, too fast to stop.

And then—impact.

Darkness. Silence.

Your body aches as awareness creeps back into you. Pain radiates through your limbs, your head pounding like a war drum. You groan, blinking against the rain that still falls in relentless sheets. Mud clings to your face, your armor slick with water and dirt. The world around you is a storm-shrouded haze, but you’re alive.

“Vermithor…” you whisper hoarsely, trying to sit up. Your body protests, but you force yourself upright. Through the blur, you see him—a massive bronze figure, sprawled but stirring. Vermithor shakes his great head, mud and rain cascading from his scales. He lets out a deep, guttural snarl that vibrates through the ground, his golden eyes locked on a shadow moving nearby.

Vhagar.

The ancient dragon groans as she begins to rise, her massive wings unfurling like the sails of a warship. Her scales glint in the lightning, battered but unbroken. For a moment, the two dragons face each other, their snarls echoing like thunder, primal and wild.

“Good boy…” you murmur, dragging yourself to your feet. Vermithor protects you still, standing like a shield between you and Vhagar. You stumble toward him, placing a hand on his warm, slick hide. “We’re not done yet.”

But before you can even draw your thoughts together, something slams into your back. You gasp as you’re thrown forward, landing hard in the mud. Hands seize your shoulders, flipping you over. Aemond.

His sapphire eye gleams with a dangerous light, his face twisted in fury as he looms over you. Rain pours down his pale hair, plastering it to his face, but his grip on you is unyielding. “You just don’t know when to stop, do you?” he growls, his voice low and venomous.

You thrash beneath him, your hands pushing against his chest, but he pins you down with ease, the weight of his armor pressing into you. “Get off me, Aemond!” you spit, mud splattering as you struggle.

“Why?” he snaps, leaning closer. “So you can crawl back to your brother and play the hero again? So you can run back to Dragonstone and tell everyone how you bested the one-eyed prince?” His voice is filled with anger, but there’s something else there, something deeper.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you hiss, meeting his gaze with defiance. “You can call me a bastard, you can try to kill me, but you’ll never break me, Aemond.”

His eye narrows, his breathing ragged. “You think this is about your precious bloodlines?” he snarls. “You think I chase you and your kin for some fleeting sense of power? You’re wrong.”

For a moment, his hands falter, loosening just enough for you to shove him off. You scramble to your feet, wiping mud from your face. “Then what is it, Aemond?” you challenge, your voice cutting through the storm. “What do you want?”

He stands, rain cascading over his armor, his chest heaving as he glares at you. “You,” he says, the word ripped from him like a confession. His voice is raw, filled with years of suppressed emotion. “I’ve wanted you since we were children. And yet you stand there, defying me, fighting me at every turn!”

You freeze, his words hitting you like a blow. The rain seems to quiet, the world narrowing to just the two of you. “You’re mad,” you whisper, shaking your head.

Aemond steps closer, his voice lowering. “Am I? Or have you always known? You taunt me with your presence, your fire. Every look, every word… You’ve consumed me.” His eye burns with a mix of anger and something else—desire.

“You’re insane,” you repeat, though your voice wavers. You take a step back, your heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

Aemond follows, his movements slow, deliberate. “Am I?” he asks again, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “Tell me you haven’t felt it too. Tell me you don’t see it every time we cross paths.”

You hesitate, your breath catching. The storm rages around you, but his words strike deep, unsettling something you’ve long buried. “You’re my uncle,” you say finally, though it sounds more like an excuse than a declaration.

“And you’re my niece,” he counters, stepping even closer. His gloved hand reaches out, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “Does it matter, Y/N? Here, now, in the mud and rain, with nothing but dragons and war around us—does it matter?”

His touch burns, even through the cold. You slap his hand away, your anger flaring. “It matters because you’re the enemy,” you snap. “You’ve chosen your side, Aemond. And I’ve chosen mine.”

His jaw clenches, his face a mask of frustration. “Then fight me,” he growls, stepping back. “Fight me, Y/N. But know this—I’ll never stop wanting you. Even if it destroys me.”

Your hands tighten into fists, your mind racing. The storm, the dragons, the battle—they all fade into the background as you face him. “You’ll regret this,” you warn, your voice trembling with both anger and something else.

“I already do,” he admits, and for the first time, his voice cracks.

The tension between you is electric, the storm mirroring the turmoil within. For a moment, neither of you moves, locked in a battle far more dangerous than swords or fire. Then, with a growl of frustration, Aemond turns away, stalking toward Vhagar.

Behind you, Vermithor lets out a low rumble, his golden eyes watching your every move. You turn to him, placing a hand on his flank, drawing strength from his steady presence.

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Bassist!Sero Hanta x Reader 🍋 - Back to the Bus

Kinktober 2024 - X

Face sitting + Piercings

Summary: After scoring backstage passes to your favorite band's show, you're surprised to find the lead singer seems interest in you.

Warnings: Oral (f!receiving), face sitting, praise, a bit rushed

You couldn't believe your luck! Not only had you just finished watching your first concert ever, you were now in line to meet the band backstage!

"You're going to crumple your poster." Your best friend croaked from beside you, gently taking it from you, having to pry it from your nervous hands. "How about I hold onto this for you?"

"S-Sorry, Tsu." You murmured sheepishly, handing it over. "Gosh, I'm totally freaking out!" You gushed, wiping your sweaty hands on the front of your distressed band tee. "I can't believe we're gonna meet the Pop Rocks!"

The amphibian girl simply beamed at you. Truthfully, she wasn't into this scene, only indulging you, though she didn't mind the music. She just preferred lighter stuff. "Try to calm down, yeah? You don't wanna squander your chance, do you?"

"No," You laughed nervously, moving up in line. "But don't pretend you aren't excited too! I bet you can't wait to meet Bakugo! You even started following him on social media!" Tsu paused, blushing a bit.

"I admire his dedication to his craft." She dismissed, swallowing dryly. "Besides, no crush of mine could top the one you have on the bassist- what's his name again?"

You exhaled heavily in annoyance. "Hanta Sero? The love of my life?"

She simply giggled at you. "Yep, you're definitely obsessed!"

As the pair of you excitedly chatted away, the line in front of you began to dwindle until all that stood between you and the band were a velvet curtain and two more fans. "Tsu, I can't do this, I'm too anxious."

"What?" She deadpanned, shoulders slumping.

"I'm gonna throw up." You warned her, heaving. She placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

"If you back out now, you'll never forgive yourself." She pointed out, glancing over your shoulder as the two in front of you stepped behind the curtain. "You got this, they're just people!" She gave a reassuring smile.

"Famous people!" You whined back, covering your mouth and gagging.

"Fame is a myth." She rolled her eyes, pushing you forward by a few feet. "Don't you wanna meet Sero?"

"Y-Yeah..." You murmured. She was right and you knew it. You steeled yourself, putting on a brave face, turning to face the curtain. And then it opened and your heart stopped.

You both were led directly behind it where five people lounged on a pair of plush couches and a slew of beanbags and armchairs. The set up looked like some sort of music video with the way it contrasted with the industrial background of the closed stage. "Hey, thanks for comin' out!" One of the guitarists chirped, jumping up and offering his hands for both of you to simultaneously shake. "How'd you like the show?"

"I-It was amazing!" You gushed, starstruck, eyes dragging over his wide crimson hair, smudged eyeliner, and torn muscle tank that stretched taut over his chest.

"Well, if you didn't already know, I'm Kirishima, Kaminari and I play electric," He smiled, tossing a thumb over to the blonde, lounging on one of the couches. "That's Sero, our bassist, Bakugo, the drummer," He nodded to the other couch, towards another, ashier blonde, and a smug ravenette, home on a beanbag respectively. He then motioned to one of the armchairs, which held a petite woman in heavy gothic makeup with fishnet tights. "And Jiro, our singer."

Of course, you knew them all by name and role, you never memorized their birthdays. But, fearing letting that on wouldn't bode well, you played ignorant. "I-I'ts great to meet you all!" You chimed breathlessly. The girl smirked, peering at you expectantly.

"Do...you have a name?" She chuckled to herself.

You felt like an idiot, of course, you were supposed to introduce yourself! "Oh, sorry, uhm..."

Sensing your discomfort, Tsu stepped forward. "This is (Y/N), and my name is Tsuyu, but everyone calls me Tsu!"

"Nice to meet you both," She replied, mellow, before turning her attention back to you. "Listen, we're just people, no need to be nervous." You nodded shyly, face red.

You and Tsu continued to chat with Jiro, Kirishima, and Kaminari for a few minutes. Bakugo listened in idly, never letting his tough guy facade crack, and Sero simply watched with an amused grin. You were quite disappointed that you hadn't gotten to talk to the latter, but you did have his signature on your poster, it having been passed around by each member, so what was good.

After your allotted time was up, you and your guest were escorted to a backdrop, where the band crowded around you for a picture. You and Tsu posed in the center, hugging each other closely, and the other five followed suit, all back to the chest after one of you with goofy grins on their faces. You could plainly see Bakugo hugging her from behind, and the stark redness on her face. Behind him was Kirishima. That meant the other three were behind you. You wondered if it was behind you. Probably Kaminari, if you had to guess, as the arms around your waist were far too toned to be feminine, and the head that rested on your shoulder was higher up than Jiro was tall.

"Say cheese!" The cameraman chimed, stepping behind the tripod, giving small notions to adjust posing. Focused on your practiced smile, nothing could have prepared you to catch a small glimpse of inky hair cascading over your shoulder. Though, what really got you was the voice in your ear that cooed:

"Can I get your number after this?"

In a blinding flash, the photo was taken and you were escorted out of the way by the event staff. You were permitted to say your goodbyes to the band, but you only needed to speak to one person. "Is that a no?" Sero chuckled, stepping in front of you.

"Y-You really want my number?" You swallowed nervously, backing away a bit.

"Mhm," He grinned before turning sheepish. "But... I left my phone back on the tour bus. Wanna go with me to get it?"

"I-I could just write it down or-"

"I'll lose it." He hinted with a wink and your face lit up like a homecoming bonfire. "You gotta put it in my phone yourself." Th smirk on his face grew as he Thenodded towards the back door. You glanced back at Tsu, who had been pulled aside as well by a certain drummer, cheeks pink as she shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She nodded to you, giving a discreet thumbs up.

-----

You could hardly recall the last several minutes. It wasn't for a lack of memory, but the events went by so quickly, you could hardly register them. One moment, he was pulling you out the back door to the venue and aboard the tour bus, showing you around it, and the next, he had you on the couch, raking his slender fingers through your hair. "I could be totally misreading this but..." He chuckled sheepishly. "I think you like me a little bit..."

"I do..." You swooned, eyes tracing over his pierced features. "You're like my favorite musician ever..."

"Oh, stop," He grinned, leaning in close. "Flattery will get you everything." His smile subtly faded, bringing your face closer by your chin, your thumb brushing over your pouty bottom lip. "I don't want you to think I'm some scumbag who hooks up with every groupie..." He coos, breath fanning over your face. "I really do think you're cute..."

"Y-You do?" You gasp nervously, melting at his touch, leaning in with him.

"Yeah, fuck, it's like-" He laughed dryly. "Kept gettin' all nervous on stage with how you were lookin' at me. You looked like you saw a shooting star."

"I did," You sighed, lovesick smile creeping across your face.

"Hey, what'd I say about flattery?" He hummed, lips dangerously close to brushing against yours.

"That it'll get me everything?" You answered sheepishly, suppressing a flirtatious giggle. "What does that one get me?"

"A kiss, should you choose to accept it." He smirked, pressing his lips firmly to yours.

"Y-You sounded amazing tonight..." You gushed breathlessly, eagerly kissing back.

"Better stop baby..." He chuckled into your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue. "You keep talkin' all sweet to me and I might just have to kiss you all over..." Suddenly, you yanked away from him, startled by the feeling of cool metal clicking against the back of your teeth. He stifled a giggle at your flushed face. "Hey, hey, it's cool, just my stud." He reassured gently, sticking his tongue out to reveal a small barbell nestled in the center of the pink muscle.

You eyed it curiously, face flushed and nervous. "O-Oh, sorry..."

"Ya know..." He gave a dry laugh. "It vibrates."

-----

You couldn't be bothered to stifle the sobs tearing from your throat, so overstimulated and spent that you couldn't even feel the build-up to your orgasms anymore. Painted fingernails dug crescent moons into your thighs and cool silver rings left imprints in your flesh as he held you firmly in place from below. You couldn't even begin to wrap your head around it. Not only had you caught the attention of your idol, but you were riding his face on the couch of his tour bus.

"'Nother one, c'mon," He rasped words a bit muddled as his tongue hung from his mouth before pressing to your clit. You shrieked, drool dripping down your chin as your back straightened. True to his word, the stud did in fact vibrate, and was he getting his money's worth from it.

"C-Can't!" You wept, fingers raking through his midnight locks, tugging gently at the roots. "T-Too much!"

Sero simply chuckled again, sweetly kissing at the slobbery flesh surrounding your core before running his tongue through it again. "One more, please, you can do it, baby." He begged, voice muffled as he continued to drink you in. When he felt you settle against his face again, he groaned with delight, one hand leaving your hip, digging into his jeans hastily. "Ugh, fuck yeah, good girl."

You immediately positioned yourself to focus on building your climax, shy at the sound of his needy moans and squelching of his cock fucking into his wet fist. "S-Sero, I-I-!" You hissed, a weak and undeserved orgasm rapidly approaching. Your body had already had enough and this was all it could offer as you grinded your hips into his face.

"That's it, pretty, ride my fuckin' face so good." He heaved, whimpering prettily into your thighs, his hips jerking into his hand as he neared his high. Without any way to stop or slow it, your final orgasm finally hit, leaving you sobbing loudly, rocking your hips into his face. "Ahhh, fuck, princess, good God," He strained, riding you both out with no regard for volume control.

Carefully, when you were ready, he helped you down, sitting down beside you on the bench seat, and pulling you against him. "Holy shit," He huffed, smiling lazily. "Yeah, I'm for sure gonna need your number, like actually."