#kinda derailed but oh well

[silverwhittlingknife]

How do you feel about Jack Drake?? What are your thoughts on him and Tim’s relationship?

Anon, I hope you were interested in a novel, because look, I am fascinated by Jack Drake.  He’s key to a whole lot of what I find compelling about Tim as a character, and if I were in charge of DC, I’d bring him back to life.  This would make Tim unhappy but would IMO make for good plotlines.

Jack and Tim’s relationship is Complicated (TM)...

Jack and Tim hug in Nightwing 20 / Jack impulsively yanks a TV out of the wall in Robin 45 / Tim grieves in Identity Crisis

“I could tell the truth.  But I don’t.” - Robin 66

...and it involves a whole lot of Tim lying, and feeling guilty about lying, and thinking about telling the truth, and choosing again and again to keep lying.

And I think that’s great.

Below the cut:

Shorter version - key points about Jack

Really long version - my gentler take (vigilantism is choir and Jack loves sports) vs. my harsher take (Jack has some major flaws)

Final thoughts

Shorter version - key points about Jack:

He’s a bad parent.  He’s self-centered, he consistently prioritizes his own comfort and interests over his son’s, and when upset, he does things like order Tim off to boarding school.

But he’s never a bad parent in an actionable way.  He’s not like David Cain or Arthur Brown, who are abusive monsters.  Jack’s not a monster!  He just...kinda sucks.

He genuinely loves Tim. If Jack’s aware that Tim’s disappeared or is in trouble, he’s always worried and upset.  He periodically resolves to be a better dad, and IMO he’s always sincere.

And Tim loves him, a lot.  Tim’s protective of him and worries about him when he’s kidnapped or in danger, and when they’re reunited, Tim’s really relieved and usually hugs him (and Jack hugs back!). 

...But they have very little in common, and that’s a problem. Jack doesn’t value the things that Tim values, or respect the people that Tim admires, or care about the things that Tim’s interested in.  Tim lies to him a lot, but that’s partly because he correctly guesses Jack wouldn’t respond well if he knew the truth of what Tim’s up to.

The Batfamily is a surrogate family that Tim’s drawn to because of the ways his real family doesn’t meet his emotional needs…but also he feels guilty about that and disloyal. (And to the extent that his dad recognizes what’s going on, he's jealous and resentful!)

Very long version:

(LISTEN I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS)

Okay!  So first: Jack’s a character who IMO is pretty up for interpretation.  You can interpret him very charitably, and make excuses for the bad behavior, and fill in the blanks sympathetically when situations are ambiguous; or you can interpret him uncharitably, and emphasize the bad behavior. I don’t think either approach is invalid - it depends on what kind of story you’re interested in!  I have enjoyed Bad Dad stories and also stories that redeem Jack.

My personal take on canon is that Jack and Tim’s relationship is in a gray area.  Jack's definitely neglectful, and he does prioritize other things over Tim, but he’s never so bad that Tim can easily reject him, and he's never so bad that Bruce could justify taking Tim away.  He's just...not great.  Tim loves him, and feels loyal to him, but it’s a very mixed-up complicated love.

I have a gentler take and a harsher one which I switch between as the spirit moves me. xD

My Gentler Take (tl;dr: vigilantism is choir and Jack loves sports)

Here’s the core conflict: Jack and Tim are very different people with different values.  Tim idolizes Bruce and Dick and vigilantism, and secretly gets involved, knowing his dad will hate it. He gets increasingly wrapped up in his secret world and lies to his dad...because if his dad finds out, he’ll make Tim quit.

This is a great setup for an ongoing comic.  It’s practical, because it provides endless potential for plotlines, and it’s nicely thematic, because it maps closely onto relatable real-life situations with extracurricular activities:

Tim the drama nerd whose dad thinks he’s playing football and not in the school play; 

Tim the closeted-queer kid secretly getting involved in his school’s politically-active Gay-Straight Alliance; 

Tim the choir kid whose dad only values making money and wants him to go into the family business (and Tim keeps promising himself he'll give up choir soon, definitely soon, but maybe he'll stay in just a liiiittle longer, because they need him, you see, the last tenor left town, so...); 

Tim the computer geek with the sports-obsessed dad (this one’s just canon);

etc. etc.  

The extracurricular metaphor works pretty well for Tim’s relationship to vigilantism.  Tim's involved in his "extracurricular" because he genuinely thinks it's important and fulfilling, and he values it and wants to be good at it. He idolizes Bruce and Dick because they're good at it. He's been collecting information about it since he was a little kid, and hiding it from his parents because he knows they wouldn't approve. And mayyyybe there's also an element of low-key rebellion against his dad, and maybe that's secretly part of the appeal. And yet also as Tim gets more and more invested, he starts to daydream: maybe I could tell my dad and he'd be proud of me and supportive. But he doesn't, because actually he knows his dad would be upset and angry and make him quit.

And - again, just like with lonely kids and extracurricular hobbies - one of the things that happens is that Tim starts getting his unfilled emotional needs met ... by people he knows through this secret hobby. And people like Bruce and Dick start turning into a surrogate family. Which Tim feels guilty about. And also as Tim gets more and more wrapped up in their world, he has to lie to his dad even more, which means the distance between Tim and his dad gets bigger and bigger and more and more unfixable.

I love this dilemma. It's simple, it's recognizable, it provides endless sources for conflict, and there's no obvious solution! Tim can't tell Jack: he'll make Tim quit! And Tim doesn't want to quit, because he loves choir / art / theater / whatever.  Yeah, it’s difficult, and there are challenges, and sometimes he has doubts...but at the end of the day, he cares about it a lot.  And everything he values is there, and all the people he admires and cares about are there, and all he wants in the world is to feel like he's one of them and belongs there. So he has to lie, even though he doesn't want to lie, and he feels guilty about it...

...but also he ends up lying more and more.

(Sidenote: I think it's important that Tim chooses to keep lying - Tim's narration often glosses this as "I have to lie to my dad," and that's certainly how it feels to Tim, but this... isn't quite true. He has to lie to his dad, because if he doesn't, his dad will get mad at him and try to stop him, not because he literally has no choice about it.)

Other Reasons Why I Like The "Secret Extracurricular" Interpretation

(tl;dr it complicates not just Tim's relationship with his dad, but also all his other relationships)

Tim's problems have some obvious parallels to Steph and Cass, who both become vigilantes while rejecting their evil supervillain dads. But Jack isn't evil. And that means the Tim-and-Jack relationship is ambiguous and complicated in ways that I like. Steph and Cass can just leave their Bad Dads in prison, and say good riddance, and feel very righteous and triumphant about it! Tim’s more complicated. Tim gets into vigilantism ostensibly out of duty and altruism, but secretly, he's also involved for straight-up selfish self-fulfillment reasons. He's lonely, and bored, and his life feels pointless, but he thinks that Bruce and Dick are cool and amazing and he wants to be a part of the things that they do.  When his dad gets jealous of Tim’s relationship to Bruce, and feels like Tim’s looking for a surrogate family, he’s... not wrong.

And the ways in which Jack is not Actionably Bad complicate things from Bruce's POV.  If Jack was a straight-up villain, it’d be an easy call to keep in touch when Jack finds out and makes Tim quit...but he’s not a villain, not really.  So what do you do?  Do you try to surreptitiously stay in touch with Tim even though you’re ignoring his dad’s express wishes and thus forcing Tim to sneak around?  Do you respect his dad’s wishes and stay away from Tim even though you have a years-long relationship at this point?  

Again: a bit similar to the extracurricular analogy.  Say you’re the choir director and you’ve built this whole relationship with a kid in the choir, and you’re an important mentor to him and you care about him etc. etc. etc.... and then right before a big performance, his dad finds out he’s been secretly involved, and yanks him out.  How would you react?  Well, maybe kind of in some of the ways Bruce reacts.  You replace him. You’re annoyed with him. You miss him. You want him to come back. You’re also worried about him.  You’re upset with his dad.  But also... what should you do, exactly?

Bruce and Alfred and Dick care about Tim as if he were part of their family, but he’s not part of their family, and there’s a lot of interesting tension there.

My Harsher Take

Jack never hits his son.  But his temper is a big deal.

In his worst moments, he takes out his anger on Tim’s stuff - wrecking his room, or ripping his TV out of the wall and confiscating it.  When he’s worried about Tim, he usually expresses that fear by yelling at him / punishing him / sending him away - threatening to send him to boarding school in Metropolis in Robin III, or threatening to send him to military school abroad in Robin 92, or actually forcing him to go to an all-boys' boarding school post-NML.  

This is bad behavior!  It is Not Good!  

And you can easily connect the dots to a bunch of Tim’s terrible coping mechanisms, like the constant lying and or the fact that Tim’s go-to methods for dealing with interpersonal conflict are 1) repress it and pretend it never happened (most of his fights with Bruce), 2) withdraw from the relationship until he can pretend the conflict doesn’t exist (when his friends get mad at him in YJ, he quits the team for a while), or 3) literally run away from home.

Also, Jack is a Manly Man with firm opinions about how men behave vs. how women behave, and he thinks boys shouldn’t be scared and thinks Tim should date hot girls and pushes Tim to work out and wants him to play football and expresses period-typical sexism, etc. etc. etc. ... and though obviously this wasn’t what the writers had in mind at the time, all of that is certainly interesting to read backwards in the light of Tim as a queer character.

More Disorganized Thoughts on Jack Drake

Tim’s our hero, so we’re naturally more sympathetic to him, but it’s also true that relationships are a two-way street, and Tim doesn’t value any of the things his dad values, either.  Jack at various points is shown to care about grades, business, money, boarding schools, archeology, football, a kind of macho bragging-about-dating-hot-women ethos, and a very public and performative kind of caring. Tim tends to respond with discomfort or disinterest or even disgust.  When Jack gets on TV to try to rally the government to save his son from No Man’s Land, Tim isn’t touched—he’s mortified.  When Jack makes some bad investments and loses money, Jack’s deeply upset and his self-image is majorly impacted, and far from being sympathetic, Tim’s annoyed and kind of contemptuous of the idea that this is a problem.  Jack thinks fishing in the early morning and going to tennis matches is a fun father-son activity; Tim finds it exhausting and tedious.  And so on.

This means that Tim often longs to be closer to his dad in theory, but this longing is more tied to fantasy than to reality. He rarely seems to enjoy spending time with His-Dad-The-Actual-Person.  So for example, when Tim’s deadly ill with the Clench, he has an extremely poignant fever dream about telling his dad the truth and getting hugged…even as he insists in real-life to Alfred and Dick that he does not want them to tell his dad what’s going on.

The same is true of Jack, who IMO genuinely wants to be closer to his son and is continually declaring that he’s going to turn over a new leaf and get closer to his son…and just as continually backs out of activities or loses his temper when faced with spending time with his actual son.

Tim and his dad sadly get along best—by far—in Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder situations.  When Jack gets kidnapped or is in danger, Tim worries for him (and Tim grieves him deeply when he dies).  When Tim disappears or runs away, Jack’s genuinely worried about him.  So e.g. they have a really moving emotional reunion and hug when the earthquake hits Gotham, and Tim panics about his dad’s safety and comes running home (and meanwhile Jack’s been panicked about Tim’s safety!).  It’s the day-to-day, regular life stuff where they don’t connect.

Jack's written quite differently by different writers. Mostly, Tim's parents are at their least likable in his early appearances and early miniseries (this is where you get, for example, Jack and Janet being nasty at each other while a pained employee looks on, and Tim disappointed to once again get news of where his parents are via postcard - "I guess that sums them up! Never know where they’re going to be–or when–or even how long!” - and Tim alone on school break, and Bruce and Alfred thinking there's something weird going on with Tim's parents, etc. etc.). Jack's more sympathetic but still often unlikable in most of Tim's Robin solo, and he's almost invisible (but positively treated if he does show up) in Tim's team books.

For obvious reasons, Jack's remembered way more sympathetically after his death. Tim's completely devastated by Jack's murder, which he arrives moments too late to prevent, and he basically never gets over it. We see him grieving Jack again and again in Robin, and also in Teen Titans, and also in Resurrection, and again in the Halloween Special, and again in Batman: Blackest Night, and all the way up to the end of Red Robin. Tim also grieves for an extended time over Janet - he hallucinates a happy reunion with her when he's feverish in Contagion, and hallucinates her in the final issue of Robin, and the reveal-your-buried-emotions song in Robin 102 brings up his grief for her too (meanwhile, other characters dance or laugh or otherwise get giddy).  Tim’s grief over his parents’ deaths is intense and long-lasting.

I'm not going to clip comic panels because this is long enough, but if you're curious, here's a nice and fairly lengthy compilation of comic panels with Tim and Jack.

If you're interested in a Jack-centric story with a softer-but-still-recognizably-canon take on Jack, I really like the way Jack’s narration is written in the one-shots Heart Humble (set shortly before Jack dies) and Never a Hero (Ra's resurrects him during Brucequest, and Jack's archeology skills turn out to be unexpectedly useful).

[kumakuma-circus]

just randomly remembered that during my like 10+ attempts at the shadow yukiko fight i more or less consistently ran out of revival beads so yosuke was just dead (well unconscious but whatever) on the ground for like half the fight gfhfjvhfhfhd-

[headdaze]

HAPPY HANBIN DAY!!! >3<🐹💕🎉 AHHHH my precious leader, you're so precious & amazing & just the best. also part of the reason I got into zb1 since most of the time my thought process is "WELL IF THE LEADER IS AWESOME ILL LIKE THE GROUP TOO" and it's basically a fool proof plan :DDD ((although I will say i initially went to see zb1's member page to find who the heck jiwoong and ricky were because when I saw them no joke I was like "these men aren't real why are they so gorgeous. stop. help." RIP LOL))

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

one thing i was not at all prepared for about having to go without glasses for a week is how the navigating my environment itself isn't a huge barrier--i have to be really slow and careful and it's annoying, but it hasn't actually stopped me from doing things including in the 'god this is going to be a hassle, i don't even want to start' way--but the major loss/change in sensory input as well as Oh God the HUD is Wrong is apparently a huge depression trigger. replacements cannot happen soon enough

[aviatrix-ash]

The weird aviator itch to want to learn how to navigate at night by the stars in an open cockpit biplane simply so you can 1 up the stuck up boomer pilots who somehow think new pilots can't navigate via dead reckoning because we can get our maps on an iPad. (':

Also I kinda want to do it just to do it. Seems fun 😌

[notquitecanon]

Keep talking // Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Summary: Simon really likes your new sundress AND wants to hear about your day. These things can coexist

Tags: established relationship, pretty domestic, yapper wife x silent husband, sunshine x grumpy kinda??? Whatever tropes the kids are saying these days suggestive but not NSFT, dumbification if you really squint, husband Simon Riley, pg-13 at worst

—

Simon was staring at you. Intensely. Him staring wasn’t exactly a new thing, he was a silent creature by nature. He watched, he listened. Especially to you. He loved listening to you.

You’d barely noticed his intense gaze as you flitted about the kitchen of your shared home, putting away the things you’d bought while you’d been out, all the while chittering on about your day, the people you talked to, the things you’d seen, things you’d bought, things you’d almost bought, things you didn’t buy, what you had for lunch, what you were thinking for dinner… And Simon listened like always, absorbing your presence like a plant absorbs sunlight.

Anyone else would have been cowed under the weight of his stare, but not you. Not only were you used to it, you loved having his attention. Every now and then you’d offer him a sweet smile when you looked to him or press a kiss to his cheek or jaw or wherever you could reach easiest as you’d squeeze past where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, absolutely dwarfing the appliances. His face gave away nothing, it never did so you kept talking- yapping, you’d call it jokingly.

“Anyways, that’s when I told her-“

“New dress, love?”

His interruption cut you off. You set down the purse you were unpacking and looked to him as you trailed off.

“Hm?”

Simon kicked off the counter, closing the short distance. It was then you noticed that his eyes weren’t on your face or eyes or even lips, but instead tracing the line of the strap laying on your shoulder.

“‘aven’t seen that one. Is it new?” His eyes roamed to the skirt where his fingers had caught a sliver of the bow in the back, “Soft.”

You cleared your throat as you turned around to face him, “I got it a few weeks ago, since it’s getting hotter, sun dress season and all, but it might be a little much for running around town…guess you haven’t seen it though-“

You cut yourself off again when you felt the tension in the tied back slack. The snapped your eyes to Simon, realizing he hadn’t dropped the bow’s string as you turned.

“I’d remember this one, lovie.” He was still gazing at the hem line appreciatively, where the delicate pattern you loved so much revealed your thighs.

“Well, then it’s new to you.” Your voice was quieter now that you’d realized the specific intensity in his gaze. Simon grunted in response, his large calloused hands resting at your hips. You could feel the roughness and warmth through the thin summer fabric.

“You were saying?” He reminded you with a slight smirk, knowing he’d derailed your train of thought. Cheeky bastard.

“Oh, uh,” You started again, preoccupied with the little circles he was rubbing on your hips, “I told her that, well, that-“

Simon nodded along to your barely coherent dialogue, as if he was listening to a TED talk. Heat was rising up your chest and neck as the solider kept getting closer until your chests were basically flush and your legs were interlocked, your chatting was only slightly better than babbling but you continued choking through your story. Even when he’d slowly moved you backwards so that you were the one pressed against the counter. You hadn’t realized you stopped once again until his brows raised, “that all?”

“Si-“ You all but whined, sharply gasping when he suddenly and effortlessly lifted you unto the kitchen counter, the stone counter chilling the backs of your thighs. Even sat on the tall counters, you still only came up to his broad chest, “We have your friends coming later-“

“And I cleaned up the yard just like you asked, love. Wearing this dress tonight?” Simon questioned gruffly, brushing a kiss first across the top of your head and then leaning down to dust a trail of kisses down your neck.

“What? Probably- but” you stuttered, the heat of his breath making it hard to track the different tracks of conversation.

“Good, does this come in any other colors?” His questions almost fell on deaf ears as he brushed the straps off your shoulders so he could continue his path down your chest. The hands on your hips had traveled first to your knees and were slowly hiking the hemline of your dress up. He paused when you didn’t answer, cutting those sharp eyes up to yours, squeezing your thigh to get your focus back on him and not just his hands. You hummed in confusion, “colors, love?”

“Oh, uh, a couple I think,” you nodded as the squeeze to your thigh turned to a kneading moving further up, “I wanted to try one, but it was hard to decide-“

Simon was sinking to his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact, “Keep talking, love. I’m listening.”

Simon was a hard man to say no to, so you kept talking. Jumping from thought to thought as they became fewer and farther between, a hand in his hair to ground yourself as he’d offer questions from between your legs until you could no longer say anything but his name.

___

I wrote this in 20 minutes on an airplane. It’s not proofread nor is it really in character. First time writing for COD but hopefully not the last… we shall see where the hyperfixation takes me

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Imagine the batkids fuck up major and a batdad had to step in and clean up their mistake

Everyone kinda embarrassed because of their blunder and Jason is lashing out to protect himself from shame

Dick is joining is cause well he feels bad about it being his idea

Now Tim is arguing too

Damian wants to feel involved and u can’t convince me other wise

Bruce is trying ti make a point about safety thats just fully derailed

Anyway Danny as Fenton is just there in the background around all the bad guys he took out before Bruce actually got there like “awkward” but the moment he tries to just tippytoe his way out Bruce turns to point at him “and don’t think you are getting out of this. Your grounded too”

He just freezes. Can batman do that? Is he legally allowed to do that? Wait what does Batman mean by grounded?!!? Whats his move here.

“Everyone in the batmobile we will discuss this more in the morning”

Oh ok thats his move. Ok yea Batman just grounded him. He better go.

So they r having the ride home and everyone is sulking and Danny is just there confused but doesn’t say anything because hes probably tired and it’s batman wtf you gonna do.

So they are at the cave and Danny finally just “so can I call my family to tell them I wont be home tonight?”

You everyone just stops. And slowly turns to face him. “Ah yea dumb question. I guess uhhh no phones huh?” No one moves. Everyone is pretty shocked. Cause one bruce kidnapped some kid. Two theres a civi in the batcave. Three bruce kidnapped some fucking kid. Four some random kid just got in the car with them. Five holy fuck bruce kidnapped some kid.

Breaks over enjoy post

[hazelfoureyes]

Someone nice, Somewhere safe

Angel x Virgin Female Reader

જ⁀➴ Angel x Virgin Male Reader - Someone nice, somewhere safe*

*same story, just your bits and bobbles are changed 

You let it slip to the group you were a virgin, and instead of laughing, Angel grabs you before bed to offer a friendly hand.

.<Warnings/Promises: Angel Dust x Virgin Female!Reader, smut, fingering, lubed to the gods, Angel uses four arms, Valentino is a blind bag of smashed assholes, creampie, oral, the gentlest sex I’ve ever written (probably), an alarming towel>

listen here virgins, if I could craft a perfect first time for you, this is it. Minus the lack of condoms because—it’s hell? Sex workers are tested bi-weekly?? This is still a fantasy??? Just if anything, please take from this the importance of a safe and trusting environment at all times 🙏  

minor dni (shoo! get outta here! Go on, git! 🧹)

You thought everyone would laugh when you said you were a virgin. The group awe’d and said it was cute, which was definitely better than the response you’d gotten in the overworld. But when you said you’d never actually orgasmed before, everyone just looked… sad? The conversation was quickly derailed by Angel launching into a list of wildest orgasm faces he’s seen, Charlie leaving the room entirely.

Continuing with the evening’s theme of surprise, you hadn’t expected Angel to catch up to you when everyone was filing off to bed. His hand gently reached for your wrist, “Hey ya got a sec?”

 For Angel, the epitome of smiling through the pain, you’d give him the remainder of your time in hell if he just asked. Every second, his.“Always!”

“So uh”, he rubbed the back of his neck, “about bein’ a virgin and all that.” Your stomach dropped, was the famous porn star about to embarrass you into a second death?“I think it’s real important that like— knowin’ yourself, and what makes you feel good is like super healthy. I dunno if you are interested in that kinda stuff but,” he was wildly moving his hands round, nervously stumbling over his words, “I’d be happy to help ya out.”

All of the blood rushed to your face.

“Oh fuck!” Angel grabbed your head and tipped it forward, “I would have accepted a simple no, jesus!” With one hand pinching your nose, he led you into his room just down the hall. 

What— what was happening, exactly? At all? In general? With your entire existence?

He kicked the door closed behind him and grabbed a handful of tissues, “Keep your head forward. Everyone who says tilt it back is an idiot.”

His hand was red when he drew it from your face, using his other hand to now hold tissues between his fingers as he pinched your nose shut.

“Is- is my nose bleeding??” Your voice cracked.

“Does that happen often?”

“Never.”

“Well I got to help you with at least one first, right?” Angel laughed, moving his hands away as you took over the task.

Oh, right. The offer. You glanced around the room, small but lived-in. Everything was pink and purple and soft.

“Angel, do you think because you’re a sex worker, you have to help me?” The room fell silent. Angel completely still beside you. You would love someone you could trust to take your virginity, but you would never want to use Angel like so many other people did on a daily basis.

“Ya know— a lot of people get real confused about this.” He sighed, chest heavy with the many misconceptions others had, “What I do for work, what I gotta do to get through the day, has nothin’ to do with who I am as a person.” You turned to look at him, “Why should I limit my experiences because of what other people have done to me?” The words hit you like a truck. You had unintentionally boxed him into his job, in turn into his trauma, summing him up as a warm body and incapable of any depth past that. Just a sex worker.

“No, no I didn’t mean anything like that. I just, I don’t want to ever,” you grabbed two of his hands, “ever take advantage of your kindness.” You squeezed, “or any part of you.”

His frown turned up, “We’re dead, yea, but you still exist. If you want to, you should enjoy every part of your afterlife. And I’d hate you to meet some asshole who’s too rough or doesn’t get ya warmed up first. A bad first time can be really traumatizin’.”

You nodded without actually thinking. Your brain wasn’t really processing meaning, his words were just soft and kind and your nose still stuffed full of tissue.

“Do you wanna?”

You nodded more vigorously, “Did my nose start bleeding again?”

Angel took the tissue away, giving a second to see, “Nope.”

Taking a deep breath, you said, “Okay. Yeah, I want that. Someone nice, somewhere safe.”

“It ain’t quite nice but-,” Angel looked around his room.

“It’s perfect, Angel.”

“Aw fuck, I should clean up,” he hurriedly carried trash from his nightstand, flattening out the comforter and adjusting his pillows. He placed fat nuggets on the floor with a little pat on the head.

Finally, he stood in front of you, two hands on his hips, two gesturing to you.

“Alright baby! Let’s pop some cherries! Undress~” he elongated the word, shimmying his hips a little, “-to your comfort level.” He began to unbutton his blazer, “Bare minimum, take off your pants and underwear, please and thank you. Though I have fucked through underwear…” He was momentarily lost in a memory.

You hadn’t anticipated getting naked in front of a friend tonight. But Angel so effortlessly shed his clothes, peeling off his gloves. Pulling off your pants, you paused.

“Is it weird if I keep my shirt on? Like— do you know who Winnie the Pooh is?”

“Nothin’ weird about bein’ comfortable, pookie.” He pinched your cheek, “I’d offer a modesty blanket but I kinda need to see what I’m doing.” His eyes flitted to the left, “No, wanna. I wanna see.” Angel’s laugh relaxed you, the idea of anyone wanting to see you made you feel a little less—-naked. Still, your hands seemed frozen on your underwear’s edge.

With a hum, he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel. “Go on, lie down. I’ll help ya relax. This is already feeling too medical-like.”

Were you going to need a towel? Were you going to need a towel?? Were you going to need a towel!?

You sat back on his bed, and when he crawled up to meet you, all legs and arms and Angel Dust, you buried your face in your hands.

“Oh hey—,” his voice was so soft, lacking its usual sass, “Wanna just, cuddle and watch stupid shit on my phone?” You groaned, face sinking further down. This would be easier if he wasn’t so sweet. You could at least take a backseat, then.

You shook your head, and felt his hand on your ankle. It snaked up your calf, slipped down your knee and thigh, finding the waistband of your underwear. When you looked up from your hiding place, Angel was a foot from your face. His features lit only by the purple neon signs hanging beside his bed and near the door. He lifted his brows, a question he didn’t need to vocalize. You sank back into the purple and pink pillows, different sizes, different textures, gently enveloping you.

With two hands now, he slide off your underwear. You might die, again. Your heart would give out any second, incapable of handling the moment. You were manually breathing.

He lifted your hips with two hands, a third sliding the towel beneath you before setting you back down.

“Do ya-,” he was rummaging now inside the nightstand drawer, “not play with yourself? Ever?”

“Not really. Not like, there.”

“Whaddya do with all your free time?” His short but enthusiastic laughter forced a smile to your cheeks. Angel slid the drawer shut and came to rest in front of your tightly shut thighs and knees. You heard a cap pop, and found the courage to sit up and see what he was doing.

“What?” He squeezed a clear, thick lubricant onto his right hand, “Nerves can make holes dry like nothin’ else. No fun for no one, trust me. Could start a fuckin’ fire—- and spit ain’t lube!” Angel said it like he spoke from a personal experience.

Ah, the towel. That made sense now.

“Should I do something?”

“Just lie back, baby~,” he opened your knees and followed your face as you settled back down, “Do you like kissin’?”

You’d kiss a trashcan if Angel said it got him hot, so, “Yeah.”

“Good,” One hand touched your cheek, sliding to your chin as he brought your lips to his. You thought you’d melt, his hands so soft on you, lips confident and sure. He used his thumb on your chin to pull down your bottom lip and ask you for entrance. When you opened up to him, his tongue slid into yours as his sticky wet hand finally came into contact between your legs. Two fingers rubbing the lube up and a down your pussy.

You nearly inhaled him with your shock, he giggled into it, “You’re so cute.” You twitched under his hand, “Ooh, and reactive! Daddy likes.”

Stop. Stop talking. I’m going to black out.

His mouth returned to yours, tongue over your tongue, as his fingers just massaged your entrance. No attempt at entering, no prodding, just gentle up and down motions. Slowly, your felt your skin heating beneath his hand, the lubricant somewhat melting with your warmth.

At work, Angel was never the lead. Never the top, and never afforded time to ease anyone open. He had no issues with sleeping with women, it was just usually for money or a shoot. Not his preferred flavor, but he could still get it up. Watching you sigh and twitch under him felt like a treat. Such a sweet response to what so many people made unnecessarily dirty at work. He wasn’t shocked to find his cock twitching, swelling as your breathing hitched with every stroke of his hand. When was the last time he could just… slow down? Be the one in control? Not control like Val, control like—- can I get you a pillow? Is the pacing good? Let’s soften these lights.  Hold my hand, sweetheart.

His head felt a little dizzy. His middle finger pressed now, and with a slow but constant motion entered you. ‘Uncomfortable’ was the best word. Your body tensed around him, but he gently pressed passed your virgin walls. He hummed, “First one down! Atleast,” he paused, “two more to go.”

“Atleast??” You shook your head.

“It’s sex math, trust the professional in the room.” He withdrew the finger and slid it back in, starting a slow pace of long drags from knuckle to fingertip.

It didn’t hurt, to his credit. The excitement of having Angel touching you so intimately made the finger easier to relax into. Angel must have noticed, his finger leaving you. He popped the top again of his lube and pressed in two fingers. This was harder. You whined, his fingertips pushing past the tight entrance of your cunt and settling into the wet warmth behind.

Lying on your back, you stared at the now upside-down photos behind his bed. He looked so happy. Could you join that wall? Was this wall worthy?

“You still good?” He leaned over you, fingers  moving.

You nodded, “Can I have another kiss?”

Ah, you might as well have punched him in the chest. “Of course, darlin’~ Ask and you shall receive.” You liked kissing, genuinely, but were always scared you’d kiss someone too long and end up in an awkward situation having to explain you weren’t wanting sex. But that fear was all gone, you’d broken the code. Get naked first, then kiss.

You smiled into his mouth, and he smiled back, “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“I like kissing you.” You leaned up, pressing your lips to his chin. His fingers quickened, and you moaned without warning. You felt your self grip his finger, nervousness slinking away and finally letting you feel aroused.

“Ooh, now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” he leaned back, repeating the same steps and trying to press a third finger into you. His abundance of hands were a blessing, one at your entrance, one on your knee to keep your shaking legs open, and two roaming down the sides of your body. When three fingers finally entered, you could feel the burning stretch of your skin around them. He pushed in, and the skin followed. He pulled out, your sensitive hole pulling too. The hand on your knee came to your crotch, his palm pressing lightly down on your clit. You glanced up to him, his eyes focused as he watched his fingers slowly drag in and out of you. It burned still, but just past that burning was a slippery sensation that made your lap warm with the rush of blood.

He let his fingers sink in entirely, before bending and feeling inside you. Your knee jumped when he hit something.

“Bingo! Say hello to your g-spot.” He beamed down at you, gold tooth shining, “Not everyone needs it to cum but oooh boooy does it maximize pleasure,” it sounded so pornographic when he said it.

You weakly copied, “B-bingo.” 

“Three fingers means I can do this now~” he replaced his palm with his fingers,  sticky with lube. His long digits were fast and practiced as he rubbed your clit. “Sex math. Dont need your virgin pussy locking up on me.” He said quietly to himself, fingers in and out of you picking up speed. Your head was pressing into the pillows as your neck strained, you’d never masturbated while someone, something, penetrated you. Every stroke of his fingers made your body spasm, the feeling of something hard and unforgiving pushing back against your quivering walls made a pleasure you couldn’t describe.

“Feelin’ good yet?” The way he said it, he knew damn well how you were feeling.

You whimpered into one of the pillows, “Yeah, it’s starting to feel good.” A weak nod.

Angel’s grin bordered on wicked, hand slowing. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your clit. Then another. His tongue flattened against his bottom lip as he dragged it over your sensitive bud of nerves.

You moaned, a half spoken-half cried, “Oh fuck, Angel-.” Hips bucking up, his fingers kept their place and followed. You humped up against his tongue, ground down into his fingers; up, down. Soft tongue, rigid fingers.

“Like that? Watch this,” He cupped his mouth over your clit and began strumming it with his tongue. Fat and flat, then thin and sharp. His fingers slowed, now just bending to hit your soft g-spot again and again. 

One hand held tightly to the pillow, the other coming to Angel’s hair. Your body kept jumping away from overstimulation but you fought against it every time and tried to grind against his face.

He lifted his mouth off you with a deliberate pop, “Feelin’ good?” You nodded, eyes closed. “Ready for the real thing?”

“Yeah. I want to feel more, Angel.” It came out as more of a whine than you meant.

His hand came to his erection, red and leaking. Stroking himself, he returned to massaging at your entrance, fingers dipping in then out.

“You comfortable with getting on your knees? This position ain’t so conducive for what I’m tryin’ to do.”

Somehow, ass up sounded better than face to face, “You’re the expert.” You rolled onto your stomach, hips up, face resting into the sea of pillows. You paused, lifted off your now sweaty shirt, and got back into position. 

“Sexpert, but thank you!” The lid popped open again, cold and viscous lube being dripped directly onto pussy, “Finally some recognition around here.” He coated himself with what was still on his hands, and raised your hips to line himself up.

“Deep breaths, okay?” He leaned over your back, kisses falling down your skin. Two hands held your hips, one guided himself into you. You tensed when his head began to push in, “Relaaax, just like the fingers.”

A muffled, “okay” from your place in the pile. Your heart was suddenly racing, the tight coil of pleasure his mouth summoned now gone. He wiped his dick up and down your folds, swiping past your entrance. Lining up, he pushed in, getting his head firmly sunk into you.

“Breath, baby,” he moaned into your shoulder. You took a deep breath in, your body tight still. But, it didn’t hurt like you’d thought. It burned, but there was no sting, no tearing. Angel’s hands ran up and down your sides, along you ass and thighs. He gently touched everywhere he could reach, until he felt you soften, “Ready to keep going?”

“Yes please”, you turned your head to look at him.

He pulled out slightly to collect more lube on his shaft, before slowly sinking into you until he bottomed out.

You were gasping, your brain misfiring. You couldn’t feel anything but him, your body just a formless thought with Angel’s warm, solid cock reaching deeper into than you thought possible. One roaming hand reached for your shoulder, “Can I move?”

“Slow,” your hand searched for a loose fold of comforter to grip, but it was soon encased and intertwined by one of his.

He pulled out, and slowly thrust back in. A saccharine moan fell from his mouth, and it made you whimper. 

You were so soft around him, yet gripping him so snuggly he felt like he was melting into your walls. His breath was unsteady, “You feel so good on my cock, baby.” A burning blush took over your face, a rush of pleasure electrifying your clit.

“How ya doin’?” Angel sounded nervous, timid.

You had to collect saliva to get any words out, mouth running dry from panting, “S’good.” You tried again, “So good.” Your fingers tightened around his.

He adjusted his hips, watching you closely. When your eyes closed and your hand nearly broke his, he grinned down, “Bingo~,” his speed began to pick up. 

“Right there,” you whimpered, “please don’t stop, right there Angel.” You dragged out the last syllable of his name. You could feel a pressure building in your lower stomach. 

Angel took languid thrusts out to the tip and pushing back past your still resisting entrance. Every time he pulled out and slipped in felt better than before. The sensations of him opening you around his cock again and again had your stomach and thighs tensing. You brought your hand up to press at your clit, finger frantically moving. You felt something building, you were desperate to reach its climax.

Angel’s hand came down and pushed yours aside, his fingers strong and not shaking with your impending orgasm. 

“Almost- Angel pleeeease! Don’t stop- keep—” You squeezed his hand tighter, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower. His repeated pressing of your g-spot pushed you over the edge, hand slowing only slightly.

"You can do it, baby. Come on. Almost there~" His words fell apart in his mouth, his own moans getting louder, your cunt tightening in spasms as your first orgasm tore through you. Your body was so inviting, warm walls sucking his head deeper. He rarely got to feel this sensation, barely ever chosen as the one doing the fucking, let alone fucking a woman. His head rested against your back, hands running along the curve of your hips as he melted into your sweet heat.

He picked up speed, only drawing out an inch or so now with each thrust. The lube made a pop and squelch every time his skin pulled from yours, the sound making his legs weak.

“Where can I cum?” His breath was raspy, messy with the pleasure of your soft insides rubbing along his shaft. You gripped the blanket, orgasm still rolling from the feeling of Angel chasing his release with your body. You could hear the strain in his voice, “Gonna need an answer real fast, babe.” You hid your face in the pillow mountain again, embarrassed to answer.

“Inside,” you tried to say it loudly enough for him to hear.

He whimpered a, “Fuuuuck” down your spine, “Such a dirty little virgin.” His hips stuttered before he sunk into you with such force your legs gave out. Your body came down flush onto the bed. Angel was pressed into you, chest against your back as his breathing calmed. You could feel his heart through your ribs, his chest fluff silky on your skin. Your body was warm, his hot cum filling you.

Small, lazy kisses on your back, then up your neck, he leaned to kiss your cheek. He slid out of you delicately, but you didn’t move.  His weight left the bed, then returned as a warm, wet cloth wiped you clean. After a couple of minutes of gentle cleaning, you felt the throw blanket cover your back. Angel plopped down on his back beside you, pulling the blanket over his legs and unlocking his phone, “Wanna see this fuckin’ hilarious video of my boss runnin’ into a glass wall?”

You chuckled, “More than anything.” He side eyed you, “Well, not anything.”

“Right answer, toots,”  One of his hands came down and settled on your hair, he leaned in to your head and as you watched Valentino collide head first into a wall, he said softly, “Let me know if you need anything. I got a bitchin’ tub in there.”

You hummed, reaching a shakey hand up and pressing ‘replay’ on his phone. Angel’s laughter echoed off the walls, and you decided you had no plans on leaving bed anytime soon.

༻Masterlist༺

[magniloquent-raven]

this post has been haunting me. i'm weak for beefy men in pretty underwear and @theweewooshow left an open invitation in the tags that i could not resist 😭 i was gonna say i can't believe this is the first fic i'm posting about these two, but honestly it kind of tracks.

hope yall enjoy!!

**

One of the things Tommy's always liked about Evan is how emotional he is. Expressive, is the word, maybe. Vibrant. It was one of the first things he noticed when they met. Poor kid was radiating nerves. The way his hands fidgeted in his pockets, and he wouldn't stop pacing while Tommy was double-checking their gear.

It's kind of fascinating to Tommy, watching Evan light up when he's happy, wilt when he's tired, always seeming to feel every emotion with his entire body.

All that to say...Tommy notices right away that something's up. There's a tiny, reactive part of him that wants to say wrong, something's wrong, but Evan's not pulling away, he just. Froze up for a second. It could've been a twinge in his bad leg when he climbed into Tommy's lap, or any number of other blips that won't completely derail the nice evening they're having.

But on the off chance...

Tommy carefully rearranges his grip, settling his hands comfortably on the small of Evan's back instead. "Everything okay?" He keeps his tone as light as his touch, and watches Evan's expression closely. Their eyes meet only briefly.

"No, uh, yeah." Evan's gaze skitters down, roaming Tommy's face, then darting away. "I, um." He grimaces, and shifts in place. The warm weight of his thighs is distracting. He's still a solid presence in Tommy's lap, and making no move to change that, despite his sudden singular focus on toying with the drawstring of Tommy's sweater.

The corners of his mouth are pursed into a frown that Tommy thinks about kissing away. That thought gets gently pushed to the side. Talking first, he reminds himself. Especially because... "If you're not in the mood anymore, that's okay."

Those—pink, perfect, God—lips part around a huff, half-curved into a grin. "That's kind of the opposite of the problem," he laughs.

Tommy can't help but mirror the smile, even if it's only a tiny one. "So, what is the problem?" He trails his fingertips up the line of Evan's spine, and down again, retracing the path when he feels Evan lean into the touch.

"It's...well, not hard to explain, exactly, but. I kinda wasn't expecting to explain..." He sighs, loud and exaggerated, and falls forward to plant his face in the crook of Tommy's neck, where he continues, slightly muffled, "How do you feel about lace?"

It's not what he was expecting to hear. Though, he's not sure what he was expecting. "Can't say I've thought much about it, to be honest."

He dated a girl back in the day who liked lingerie. She was always asking him what he thought about various scraps of silk and velvet, and it was all...very awkward. He always told her he'd like her just as much in cheap cotton and a borrowed t-shirt, which. In retrospect, was ironically true. When she broke up with him she accused him of being cold. Withholding. He brushed it off as neediness on her part.

He suppresses a wince at the memory.

Evan wraps Tommy's drawstring around his index finger, slowly curling it around his knuckle. "My ex. Taylor. She liked it. She liked...me. In it."

...Oh?

He can't picture it. Not in a bad way, he's not put off by the idea—very much the opposite—but when he tries, the mental image just...blurs. His brain is trying to mesh Evan with his hazy memories of things he never paid much attention to, and it's coming up frustratingly empty.

Tommy is very proud of how calm and steady he sounds when he says, “And…this was something you liked too?”

Warm air tickles the underside of his jaw. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Why are you telling me this now?” He feels like there’s something he’s missing. Something obvious he should have realized, if only he wasn’t so preoccupied with the way Evan’s thighs are flexing, his hand sneaking under the hem of Tommy’s hoodie, skin-to-skin, palm skimming his side, and the hot, tingling press of mouth-on-neck.

“Wanna find out?”

The second he nods he almost wishes he hadn’t, because all at once Evan is gone, and Tommy’s left sitting on his couch in a horny daze, blinking up at his slyly grinning boyfriend. As nice as the view is, his lap is cold now.

Evan thumbs his waistband. There’s excitement sparkling in his eyes, bright and shining, but he hesitates a moment before taking a deep breath and dropping his shorts around his ankles.

Oh.

So…lace. Tommy’s having feelings about lace. Not much in the way of thoughts yet. But feelings, definitely. The sudden rush of heat that burns through him leaves him a little light-headed, all the blood in his veins fizzing like he’s a can of soda someone just popped the tab on. His fingers itch to reach out, he aches with want, desire pooling low in his gut.

Thing is, they’re not even anything too fancy, as far as Tommy can tell. He has vague memories of his ex—and good God does he suddenly feel like he owes her even more of an apology—in complicated woven ribbons and things that probably looked like a crate of bungee cords in whatever bag they came in. Evan is just wearing…panties. Simple, pale blue, lacy panties. There’s a little bow on the front, and it’s unreasonably cute.

Evan hikes up his t-shirt a little, so Tommy can get a better look, presumably. Which he appreciates. He’s losing his mind a little over the trail of light blond hair under his belly button disappearing into soft blue lace. He wants to follow it with his tongue.

The attention is making Evan hard. Tommy’s not sure what his face is doing exactly, but whatever it is, Evan seems to appreciate it. He’s filling out that pouch in the front so fucking well, it’s making Tommy’s mouth water.

“So, uh. Good?” Christ, he sounds breathless and Tommy hasn’t even touched him yet.

It takes all of Tommy’s willpower to drag his gaze up to Evan’s face, but it’s worth the effort. His cheeks are flushed a happy pink, creased by a grin he’s failing to restrain even with his bottom lip trapped by his teeth. The blue in his eyes is a nearly-invisible ring around his dilated pupils, and shadowed by his heavy-lidded expression.

“Evan,” he says, a little hoarse. It’s all he can say without laughing hysterically at the sheer understatement of good. Without telling Evan, in detail, exactly how badly he needs to suck him off through that fabric. How vividly he’s imagining what it would feel like against his own cock, wondering if he could cum just from rutting against Evan’s lace-clad ass while he squirms and begs to be fucked properly.

And more importantly, it’s all he needs to say.

The rest he can just show him.

[likedovesinthewindd]

i’m not sure how often you write / take requests but i just wanna throw an idea out just incase it sticks:

pathetic!patrick where reader wears the pants in the “relationship” - they’re kinda fwb and she introduces him as “just a friend” and he gets upset about it and angry and embarrassed bc wdym?? they’ve been hanging out and kissing and doing bf gf stuff and she just oh no we’re just friends’d him!!! in front of a bunch of his friends :/// just so much angst or somethin idk i love patrick zweig and i need him terribly and no one writes anything other than smut for him 😭😭😭 need him to crave me like i do him… let’s wake it up WHERE CAN I FIND PLOT

when I tell you I started salivating when I read this bc I've been wanting to write something angsty for patrick for a while now. anon, you are a godsend and I absolutely love this idea!! also side note, let's pretend patrick also went to stanford for this.

𖡼 ⊹ ˚.

Patrick's mind was racing at a hundred miles a minute as his feet carried him mindlessly. Your hand in his felt almost scorching, his other stuck deep in the pocket of his dress pants. The night's air was cold against your skin as the two of you walked along the pavemented grounds back to your dorm room.

The moment kept replaying in his mind. A few hours ago at some fundraising event for one of the faculties. Patrick reckons you were the most beautiful in the room. He couldn't keep his eyes (or hands, really) off of you, and both your and his friends had obviously noticed, inquiring you about it.

He doesn't know why it bothered him as much as it did; the way you awkwardly laughed and deflected when your friends had asked what was going on between the two of you. You made it sound so casual, which in honesty was what it was supposed to be originally, but the train had very much derailed since then.

Your hand squeezed at Patrick's, and when he looked at you, you gave him a timid smile. "You alright? You're very quiet," you said softly. Patrick pursed his lips before he shook his head. "M'fine," he said with a shrug, and you nodded, not fully convinced as the two of you made your way through the building.

"No, actually. I'm not," he spoke up again, lightly pulling his hand from your grasp before sticking it in his pocket as well. His tone surprised you, making you turn to him with a confused look. "What did you mean when you said we were just friends?" he asked, and your scowl deepened. "What are you talking about?"

"When your friends asked you what was going on between the two of us," he said with an agitated lilt to his voice, "you laughed and said we were just friends."

"We are just friends, though. But we," you falter for a moment, "y'know we're just messing around." You laugh as you say it, but nothing about Patrick's expression tells you he finds it humorous. "Are we, though?" he asked. "Are we what?" you asked. "Just messing around," he answered with a shrug, "you have to admit we've been doing a lot more than just 'messing around'."

"What are you even saying, Patrick?" you asked, genuinely confused as to what he was getting at. "I just think this," he gestures between the two of you, "is past the point of just messing around. At least, that's how I see it." You didn't mean to laugh at that, but you didn't think he realized how crazy he sounded at that moment. "Did you want me to tell our friends that I'm your little girlfriend?" you said sarcastically. "No, I just—"

"Because I'm not," you interrupted, "and you know that. That's what we agreed upon. No labels, remember?" Patrick does remember, and he wanted to kick himself now for ever agreeing to something like that, but it wasn't like he knew how far and fast things would progress between the two of you. "Just try to understand where I'm coming from," he said in a half pleading voice. "It's not just sex for us. I mean, seventy percent of the time we spent together, we're not even having sex."

You sighed as the two of you came to a standstill in front of your room's door. "Okay, Patrick, if you really think we're so close, what's my favourite color?" you asked. Patrick sputtered weakly before you spoke up again. "Favourite movie?" Nothing. "What's my mother's name?"

"I don't know," he said weakly, glancing down at his shoes to avoid your I told you so expression. "It is just sex Patrick," you said very matter-of-factly. "You can't expect me to give you any more than that. Maybe I've wanted to, but it just wouldn't work out." "Why not?" Patrick asked weakly. "A relationship doesn't start with two people immediately fucking and then wanting to get to know each other later on. That's just not how it works," you reasoned, digging in your jacket's pockets for your keys.

"I want to be with you," he said, followed by your name, uttered softly and pitifully as he watched your shoulder fall with a sigh. "Well, this is the only way you're getting me. You take it or leave it," you said, back facing him as you turned the key in the door. It opened with a click, and you grabbed the knob before turning to him again. "Are you coming in?"

And like a fool, Patrick followed you into the dark apartment. He sat at the edge of the bed as you slowly stripped from your dress. He didn't take his eyes off of you, couldn't even if he wanted to. And with every moan breathed against his mouth, every scrape scratched along his back, and every single moment spent with his head between your thighs or within your pulsing heat, he could feel himself falling deeper into the hole he had dug for himself.

And later that night, when your head lay against his chest as you slept, soft rhythmic breathing blowing against the fine hairs of his chest, his mind was still racing. He didn't know your favorite color or your mother's name, but he knew the fears that kept you up at night because those nights he was the first one you'd call because you knew he'd answer. He knew all the plans you had for your future, mapped out by the year, because some nights he'd come over when you couldn't sleep and the two of you would sit by your bedroom's window and talk till the sun showed face.

By now, he knew your body like the back of his hand, but he also knew your mind. He knew the way you thought, the way your thoughts could sometimes run away with you, and he knew exactly how to bring you back down to earth, ground you.

Patrick was conflicted, between a rock and a hard place, but above all, he was greedy. He knew he couldn't have you in your entirety, so he was going to cling onto what he could get, that bit of yourself you allowed yourself to give because he wasn't willing to loose you. He'd rather have a piece of you than lose all of you, and maybe that was going to be enough for him some day.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

YOUR VANGUARD VAGGIE IS WONDERFUL I DEFINITELY WANNA USE IT TO WRITE WITH IF THATS OK

do whatever u like, oh anon. everything i post here is for sharing <3

anyway have i mentioned i love that vaggie's weapon is a spear. i love that her weapon is a spear

vaggie is exactly the kinda practical, pragmatic, kill kill kill lady who'd say no thanks to the "cool" weapons like swords (coughcouchlutecouch) and go for something works best with the people around her (group of spears for the win) while helping her specifically (short lady equips weapon with Reach) and that just makes me feeeeeel she'd be not just GOOD at heading into a fight first to assess things and clear the way, but also tactically minded enough (cough cough the manager mindset cough) to sign up for that so she can be SURE it gets done right and

good character weapon choice in media means a lot to me... i love it

LIKE LOOK AT CHARLIE TOO!!! HER WEAPON!!!!!!!

when she's calm she chooses a shield so she can protect and deflect (call out to her emotional issues of not dealing with her own) without causing lethal HARM

but the moment she's pissed and hurt and wants to HURT SOMEONE, she calls up a TRIDENT

you can say "she's a demon princess of hell of course she's have a trident it's iconic traditional shorthand for demon weapon" and YES THAT'S TRUE but also, in real life, tridents WERE used as weapons! Where????

in entertainment. by gladiators. who used fun and unusual weapons and weapon combos as part of putting on a Good Show

meaning theater bi charlie who loves breaking into broadway musical style songs while dancing her way down the streets of hell is, even at her most murder-y and dangerous, is STILL thematically tied to her parents' shared vibe of public performance and entertainment

(lucy boy with his carnival land and lilith with her singing)

and HER weapon isn't a choice of what's easiest to fight with or kill with, oh no. it's intimidation. it's for catching someone's weapon on. it's pinning someone down (so they will LISTEN). it's a PROP

a prop she fully stabbed a guy with but yeah, you know. as it goes

even chaggie's WEAPONS both match AND contrast each other! that's so COOL!!!

both have polearms, one for efficient killing especially in a group, one for NOT killing while usually in a one-on-one fight, they are stabby stabby girlfriends who's characters are sooooooo well matched by their choice of stabby tools lg;;kakgk;gkkfgkd;k;e ARGHHGHGH

I DERAILED THIS REPLY BECAUSE OF THEM. LOVEE THEM

[nectardaddy]

full throttle | sakusa kiyoomi

chapter five | painfully awkward | 🏎️

note: more written parts than smau for this one oops, kinda long so strap in I didn't want this to be in multiple parts

masterlist

He swallowed hard when he heard his passenger door open, a small "thanks for taking me," hitting his ears before the door closed. He didn't know what on earth could've possessed him to do such a thing as this. Not minding at first, offering as he was tired and only wanting his friend to stop texting, but now that she sat in his car he realized the space felt all too cramped. Seemingly caving in on himself as he averted his gaze and let out a hum of acknowledgement.

But the woman next to him, although riddled with anxiety of her own, was all too quick to notice his white knuckles and tightened jaw. He had tendencies peculiar to those who didn't know him; and although she wasn't chummy, she caught on quickly. "I'm kinda invading your space, sorry." Trying to make herself, almost, smaller in the seat genuinely made him feel a bit bad.

If he didn't know her habits from high school, he would've never agreed. Always tidy, well kept, and never coming to school sick. Ticking off boxes in his mind before he felt like he could breathe again. A quirk that was difficult to overcome, but he had learned to dial down, only ever so slightly, in recent years. "It's alright," speaking in a breath, "let's just get going."

Breathe. The woman told herself internally, shifting in the seat uncomfortably as tension was thick and silence loud. Just be yourself. An inner monologue of thoughts hammering her head as all she could do was keep her eyes glued forward. "So," she began, cringing at herself before sighing. This is so stupid. He's never been talkative.

"So?" He repeated, brows furrowing. Eyes flicking over only for a split second before returning to the road in front of him. Another pregnant pause, making both of their skin crawl from uncertainty and pressure to speak. "Where'd you learn to drift like that?" A question that left his lips without grace; where he usually took his time to think before speaking, but wanted something to replace the dreadful silence.

"Oh, uh," caught off guard, the woman sat up in her seat more and looked over to him. "I taught myself actually, more or less," shrugging as she continued, "youtube helped a lot."

"Christ," he mumbled aloud, "are you serious? You can drift like that and you taught yourself?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," she grumbled. "You don't believe me?"

"I never said that," he corrected. "I just remember you had no clue how to even do a donut in high school. It's surprising you actually beat me a few weeks ago." Nonchalantly leaving his lips with a twinge of, very dry, humor.

A humor that was unique to him, a coarse humor that she didn't pick up on right away. Moreover, not at all. "Excuse me?"

"What?" He asked, once again flickering his eyes over to her. "I'm telling you that you really improved. You sucked in high school."

Closing her mouth as words fell short for her and letting a breath out of her nose, she shifted her gaze. "Well you haven't changed at all," mumbling under her breath as she rolled her eyes. This was a terrible idea, why did I ever like this asshole.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were a dick in high school," she admitted, stubbornly refusing to cast her eyes towards him again. "I always thought you were just broody and wanted space, but you're actually just an asshole."

Taken back by her statement, he inhaled deeply, fingers once again gripping the steering wheel tightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Dude," she groaned, not grasping that the man genuinely couldn't see his own actions. "You were always so short with me in high school, like it was annoying to even talk to me at all. And, you just said I sucked at drifting. That's like, peak asshole behavior."

"Oh," realization hitting him abruptly, slamming into him like a derailed train. Had he really been that callous? Did he not realize that his words would force her back rather than forward? "Sorry. I never knew that. And, I didn't mean it to come off rude. You've genuinely gotten a lot better, I'm impressed. Really."

Brows furrowing in confusion, she now found it within herself to look at him once more. He was serious. A strange, nonconforming, way of complimenting someone she almost found herself enjoying. Pulled in opposite directions of what to feel because neither the man himself knew what emotion swirled in his brain. "You're impressed?"

"Yeah?" Asking as if it was a given. But the man wasn't usually one for compliments, they were used sparingly and very few and far between. "I'll be honest, I haven't seen someone drive that aggressively in a street race in years. It was cool."

"I'm so confused," she blurted out, a nervous laugh following suit to try and break up the obvious tension. What she didn't expect; however, was him to match the anxious laughter. Neither party not knowing exactly what the other felt, but somehow, someway knowing that the back and forth had fizzled out. "But thanks, you're like the best driver I've ever seen, so that means a lot."

omi does not know how to talk to people like a normal person (same). he's way too blunt majority of the time but he's working on it

this man actually feels so bad. he didn't know she thought he was being an asshole

omi has really dry, basically sahara desert level, humor. he actually thought she would laugh or at least chuckle at what he said

he did the same in high school and didn't realize until just now he had done a HORRIBLE job at flirting with her

HE DIDN'T MEAN IT

this was painfully awkward for the both of them

both of them will pretend this situation never happened and never bring it up again. but they're in a silent agreement that everything is fine now.

yn will not be telling the group chat about this and will be taking it to her grave. this was peak level of both confusing and mortifying for her

hmmmm his laugh was probably so hot I gotta say it

the rest of the time was just spent talking about drifting and qualifiers

"you're the best driver I've ever seen" will be playing in his head the entire time he is in his car at qualifiers and he doesn't know what this means to him

taglist under cut

@wyrcan @hilichurl-lover @neuviloved @mayariviolet @wqnsho

@chosugarplum @dontmindtheevie @ilyless @phoenix-eclipses

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Once again I’m later than I’d like to be… ngl I kinda forgot I was supposed to post today 😬

Part 1 | . . . | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21

Just then, there’s another knock at the door. “All good in here?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Steve deadpans, “Robin’s torturing me.”

“I’m telling him to take care of himself,” Robin snarks back.

“How’s everyone out there?” Steve asks.

A pause, during which Steve and Robin look at each other. “That’s… about what I’m here for,” he finally answers. “Joyce Byers is here and I don’t think any of us have enough answers for her.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters, thunking his head back against the wall. “Okay. Thanks, Eddie. We’ll be out in a minute.”

“Alright.” He knocks once more, lets his knuckles drag down the wood before he walks away.

“So,” Robin says, wrapping a bandage around his torso. “Joyce.”

“Joyce,” Steve agrees.

“You ready?”

Steve pulls his shirt down, then considers the tear, the blood staining the edges. “I think maybe I should change first.”

She chuckles and pushes him in the direction of his room. “Go,” she says. “I’ll clean up.”

“I don’t deserve you!” He calls down the hall.

“You’d better believe it!” She yells back, and he cackles as he shuts his door.

His laugh wakes El, who’s sleeping in his bed. He winces as she murmurs sleepily. “Sorry, El,” he murmurs, moving to his bed to pass a hand over her head. “Forgot you were in here.”

She yawns, eyes fighting to stay open. “Okay?”

He smiles. “We’re fine, El. Go back to sleep, okay?”

“M’kay,” she mumbles, and does just that. She’s out again before he even reaches his closet.

He passes by the bathroom just as Robin opens the door, having finished putting everything away. He grabs her hand and squeezes once, letting her squeeze back before he drops her hand and squares his shoulders, walking into his living room like he’s preparing for battle.

“Everyone alright?” He asks Nancy, who nods, then cuts her eyes to Joyce’s anxious figure in the kitchen. She’s talking to Jonathan. Steve sees tears in both their eyes and decides to let them come to him before Joyce suddenly turns and faces him.

“You brought him back,” she whispers, tears dripping onto her cheeks as she moves to embrace him. “Thank you.” He accepts the hug before she suddenly pulls back. “I need to know, though… Jonathan told me about these… demonic-looking things-”

Steve nods, offers her a seat. Sits next to her and explains the Upside Down all over again. Her gaze hardens when he lifts his shirt and carefully moves the bandages, at her request.

“Okay,” she finally says. “What can I do?”

Steve smiles kindly. “Rest,” he says. “If you’d like to stay here for now, there’s room. If you’d like to go home, you can. But Will…” he sighs. “He’s… marked, now.”

“He’s involved,” Joyce nods and sets her jaw. “If he’s involved, fine. But know I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

“We all will,” Steve answers. “There’s more.” He waves Robin over. “She and I… we’re from the future. We’ve been through all this before.”

“Oh,” Joyce whispers. “You poor dears.”

Robin and Steve share a look. “It gets worse,” Robin admits, taking a seat next to Steve.

Steve grimaces. “It started with me,” he admits. “I, uh. Well. I was a bully. And I broke Jonathan’s camera.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “If you won’t tell the full story, I will. You only broke it because he took pictures of you and Nancy in your room.”

“He was looking for Will-”

“He took pictures of you-”

“Robs,” Steve sighs. “Water under the bridge. Hasn’t happened this time around, remember?”

Robin sighs dramatically, trying to get him to smile. It works. “But it happened last time before I knew you. Do you know how many things I wanted to say to him?”

Steve just raises a brow in response. “I’m pretty sure half of what you wanted to say is only legal in Russia.”

“I’m sorry,” Joyce says, effectively derailing them. “Did you say Jonathan took pictures of you and Nancy? Alone in your room?”

“Yeah, but we’re fine now. Or… we were fine. Last week. When we knew each other.”

Joyce rubs her temples. “Christ,” she mutters. “Are you… I don’t even know what to ask at this point. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve shrugs, then thinks about it. “I mean… as fine as you can be after everything, I guess.”

Joyce hums thoughtfully. “Okay,” she decides. “I think you need to tell me everything.”

So they do, taking turns when one forgets something, sometimes getting sidetracked, with Joyce guiding them back onto the topic.

“And that’s it,” Steve finally says with another shrug. “Now we’re here and we found Will and Barb, so it’s already going better than last time.”

“I think I need a drink,” Joyce says. “And I think you need several drinks.” She takes a breath. “Okay. I’m going to take you up on the offer of rest here, since I think Will’s happy here. After that, I’m in. Whatever you need.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

[cathalbravecog]

GOOOOOOOOOOOOD EVENING TOONTOWN!!!!

[High Roller dressed as Sardonyx to let my autisms (corporate) clash !!]

LISTE N TO ME TH.RERES NO WAY WHO DESIGNED HIGH ROLLER DID NOT TAKE INSPO FROM SARDONYX I KNOW THEY POSSIBLY PULLED FROM SIMILAR INSPO TOO AND TV SHOW HOST CHARACTER TROPES BUT OH MY GOD IM GONNA END IT ALL THEY HAVE SO MANY SIMILARITIES AND I HFGRGHGHGHGHG IM SORRY SARDONYX WAS ALWAYS MY FAV FUSION SO REWATCHING SU AND SEEING THESE GUYS SIMILARITIES MAKES ME EXPLODE. GOOFY "GOOOOOOD ____ _____" ENTRANCE. ARE FUSIONS. TV SHOW HOSTS. CAN ROTATE SPINNY SPINNY PARTS OF BODIES. ICONIC LAUGH. THE MOST SLAYING SUITS EVER. they both got it all. ok sorry for being tism

thisd rawing took me too long and i think im ready to die. im free.i can draw other things freely (TFW THIS WAS A DERAIL AS WELL)

also yeah that... empty space there KINDA sucks but..! im not doin shit abt it. so i hope you Fellas like it. will draw simpler hr art after this i needed to drop a banker after a while

if you read all of this uhmm ur swag . have these secret hr stamps i made months ago that i was too scared to post. My Treat.

also fun fact the font i always use for watermarks is the crewniverse font lol

[girlboypersonthingy]

How would my Arcane girls (Jinx and Vi) react if they were chilling and lying on the bed with reader and reader told them: „I want to be honest with you. I’ve never kissed anyone, never been in a relationship before. You’re my first” and tried to quickly walk away because was afraid of response?

NOOO CUZ WHY IS THIS SO CUTE ??? I love this sm wow thank you❣️ I know Vi and Jinx gotta be pretty inexperienced too. Aww I 💜 these girls~ ENJOY ANON 😚

VI 💘

It was early morning, almost 6 am and the sun was just starting to make the room glow. As you open your eyes, you realize you’re not in your own bedroom. This realization startles you a bit and causes you to sit up rather quickly. Finally, you look over and see Vi laying on her back, hands tucked behind her head as she glances over at you. “Morning, sweetheart.” She was in a sports bra type of top and her cotton candy hair was a bit messy. You can’t help but struggle to catch your breath as you feel your stomach drop and your face become hot. You’d fallen asleep in a VI’s bed for the first time ever. “M-morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in here last night I just-“ You lose your voice suddenly as she turns towards you and slides her hand to the back of your head.

Before you know it, she’s pulling you in towards her as her eyes flutter shut. Oh god…is this it? Your first kiss?! Something in you makes you pull away slightly as your breath finally catches in your throat. Despite your slight pull, Vi continues to move closer and closer. You nearly choke as you try to muster up the courage to tell her what’s on your mind.

“Vi! Wait! Uhm…uh.” She pulls away and loosens her grip on you, her eyes opening to catch a glimpse of your shocked expression. “I…I’m sorry, (Y/N).” She looks away as if she’s ashamed of what she just did, she doesn’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to. “No no, it’s fine. I just…” She watches you closely, her mouth just barely hanging open. “Honestly…I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’ve never even dated anyone before you and I…I-I-“ Your train of thought has officially derailed, you’re just so close to her face and you’re still half asleep, your brain isn’t functioning correctly at the moment.

You decide to end your awkward suffering by quickly scurrying back to your own room and hiding from Vi for the next week, but as you try to stand from the bed, Vi grabs your arm firmly. As you turn to look at her, she loosens her hand on you but gently tugs at your arm. “Hey, don’t go. Finish what you want to say.” You’re hesitant to slump back into her bed but eventually you do, with bright red cheeks and avoidant eyes. You open your mouth to continue but the courage you felt a second ago is now long gone and only a soft whisper comes out before you divert your gaze from her. Vi decides to speak up instead.

“Well um…You’re uh…not my first kiss but you are my first serious relationship so I’m kinda new to this, too.” She pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried anything, I just…I don’t wanna sound like a creep but I was watching you sleep for the last 20 minutes and you’re really fucking hot and you’re so kind and interesting and GOD you make me feel all giddy and excited and…like I have something to look forward to.” After her short ramble, she watches for your response with a small smile on her face.

“Well then…you can try to kiss me again if you want. Promise I won’t pull away this time.” Vi grins and let’s out a soft chuckle before she slowly leans in and presses her lips to yours, officiating your first kiss ❤️‍🔥

JINX 🦋

Jinx was bored, having no orders from Silco and nothing really major going on with her inventions and gadgets. She was having a sort of writer’s block but with chaos and fun. In response, she just had to come find you and bother you a bit for her own entertainment. Jinx scurries around to find you and she finally does, sitting on your bed fiddling with something. She silently sneaks up behind you then shouts as she grabs your shoulders. This causes you to jolt in your spot and let out a startled yelp which makes Jinx burst into laughter.

“Woo! That was a good one, I got you so good!” You smile and let out a nervous laugh as you relax your body again. You look back to see her sprawled out in the bed behind you, smiling so big. “You’re a jerk.” She just continues to laugh in reply. “What do you even want? Can’t you see I’m busy here.” Your tone was harsh but you’re having trouble holding back your smile and you just can’t fool Jinx. “Mmmmhhhmmm I see that smile, you’re not really mad at me.” Jinx slithers her way across the bed so fast it makes your head spin and suddenly, now she’s standing right in front of you and you have no way of hiding your face from her. You bite your lip and try to force the smile back and the look on your face gives Jinx an idea.

Jinx reached out to touch you and everything suddenly felt so unreal, like a dream or something. Her cold, thin fingers gently graze your cheek as she gives you a very convincing guilty puppy dog look, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout. Your smile has turned into a open mouth, wanting to speak but not sure what to say. She’s never touched you this way and her face has never been this close to yours. You don’t notice at first but you’re holding your breath, waiting to see where this is going.

“You’re not…really mad at me…right, (Y/N)?” Her voice is so soft compared to her normal volume and she really is a great actress, you’re not sure if this is real or not. Your voice begins with a squeak so you clear your throat and then finally respond. “N-no.” She moves closer, her eyes looking back and forth between your eyes and your lips, and you can feel her breath ever so slightly on your face. “Promise?” And all you can do is nod in reply. “Then show me you’re not mad at me…with a kiss.” She lets out a sweet giggle at the face you’re making then leans forward, her bright blue eyes closing slowly as you lean away. Suddenly, you catch your breath and now you’re panting and panicking.

“Jinx! Jinx, wait!” She pulls back, eyes wide as she watches you. “You… don’t want to kiss me?” Now you’re sure her sad expression is real. “No, I do but I uh…I-I’ve never…kissed anyone before though.” You look away from her and try to stand, wanting to get out of this excruciatingly embarrassing situation but before you can get to your feet, Jinx is smiling bigger than ever and she reaches out to hold your face in her hands again. She essentially pulls you back down by your blushing cheeks.

“OH MY GOD, YOU’RE SUCH A LITTLE VIRGIN!!! YOU’RE SO PRECIOUS!” She’s practically screaming as she pulls your face close to hers and gently touches the tip of her nose to yours. This makes you chuckle softly at how funny she is but you’re still nervous. “Sorry, I uh…I don’t really know how to-“ Jinx interrupts you by gently pressing a very soft and very quick kiss to your parted lips, literally making your heart stop. “There! Now you’ve kissed someone. The “first time” thing is soooo overrated. Nooowwww…I can teach you the good stuff.” She winks at you then bites her lip nervously. “If you want, I mean!”

She’s not trying to pressure you, she’s just over enthusiastic about kissing you for the first time and she wants more, but she also cares about you and your boundaries. So she watches your face as you think about it, her cheeks just barely pink with want for you.

“Okay fine, but no tongue.” “Awww what?! That’s the best part, (Y/N)!” “Ew, you’re so gross!”

And then you proceed to share lots of soft, small kisses with NO TONGUE and you two can’t stop laughing and smiling against each others’ lips.

[vintagedebutante]

Power & Control

A JFK x Petite!Reader Fanfiction- 18+

Further Info: Smut, period-accurate views on virginity I guess, uh... rough sex

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: This is my first time writing smut in like, forever! I’d like to thank the ever-iconic @lancerlovesick for inspiring me to write again, I hope you all enjoy it! (Please be kind, I'm kinda rusty lmao)

All alone, you wrung your hands restlessly. You had received a call from one of the President's men instructing you to wait in the west sitting hall, part of the White House's residential area, for a face-to-face meeting with the President himself. Why on earth would the President want to see you alone? How bad of a job could you be doing as a lowly secretary where you required the attention of the country’s most powerful man? Puzzled, your eyes darted around the room.

The west sitting hall was both palatial and comfortable-- an austere half-moon-shaped window provided an elegant backdrop to the green and white floral couch and matching chairs, one of which you were anxiously curled up in.

Your train of thought was quickly derailed by the authoritative sound of a man’s footsteps approaching the room. Abruptly, you stood up and straightened your dress. Your heart clanged in your chest so ferociously you could have sworn you were about to faint.

John F. Kennedy, the President of the United States, stood before you in his expensive, well-tailored navy blue suit. He towered over you, making you feel even weaker in his presence. Though you had interacted with the President briefly many times during your few weeks as a secretary, you had never been alone together like this. Rather than giving you the reprimanding look you expected, he gazed at you rather... ravenously.

You hated to admit it, but you loved the way he looked at you. Though Kennedy was a married man, not to mention the President of the United States, you couldn't help but relish in his lustful gaze. The way his stormy blue-green eyes wandered as he looked down at your minuscule, delicate frame like you were his most prized possession sent you into a frenzy. Though you understood you were no more than one of John F. Kennedy's many sexual conquests, being in his presence like this made you feel like you were the only two people left on Earth. And then, oh God, he smirked and shot you a wink.

"You're a pretty little thing, you know that?" The President quipped in his charming Boston accent. "Now I've got you right where I want you."

"Oh! Uh, Mr. President, I... Mmh..."

Instinctively, a soft moan escaped your lips. You couldn't believe yourself, reduced to a giddy schoolgirl by such a powerful man. Your cheeks flushed. How embarrassing. Yet, the fluttering in your chest was undeniable-- you couldn't resist him. This must have been the famous "Kennedy charisma" you kept hearing about from the other secretaries. The President let out a low chuckle and swayed closer before placing a large, rough hand on your waist. The aroma of expensive cologne mixed with cigar smoke was intoxicating. God, you wanted him.

"Now how can I uh, get you out of that dress?"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The other women you worked with used their familiarity with the President as a kind of status symbol. You were lucky if he knew your name. To be lusted after by John F. Kennedy was unlike anything you'd imagined. Like a marionette controlled by an unseen force, you turned around, reached for your zipper, and slinked free from your cotton shirtdress. It was at this moment that you noticed how wet you were, your white undergarments marked with a visible damp spot where your thighs met.

"Not so innocent, are we now? Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with uh, being a little excited."

You guessed you weren't the only one who noticed. A bright red blush crept across your cheeks. As if in a trance, you stripped yourself of your matching set of undergarments and stood coyly before the country's most powerful man. What had come over you? You weren't normally that kind of girl, yet, in this moment, you found yourself uncharacteristically eager to please.

You could tell the President was enjoying himself. You heard gossip around the office that Kennedy got a thrill out of using his power to get those close to him to do his bidding. Whether he was challenging diplomats to swimming contests or making a newly hired secretary drop to her knees, the President was well aware of his influence on others. You never imagined he would turn his attention to you, after all, the two of you really hadn't interacted outside of work. Perhaps he was attracted to your subservience— you were always quick to follow orders from higher-ups in a professional sense.

"God, you're perfect," Kennedy remarked as he ran his large, textured hands over your tiny naked body, pausing to play with your perky breasts. "Spin for me."

Slightly confused, you stepped back and gave the President a coquettish twirl.

"Atta girl," he smirked as he took your dainty, manicured hand and led you to the large, floral-patterned couch behind the coffee table. The President let out a pained groan as he sat, his lustful expression briefly changing to one of genuine discomfort before slowly settling into a seated position. You watched excitedly as Kennedy fiddled with his belt, exposing his large, erect member as his slacks and undergarments pooled at his ankles. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

The President gave his cock a few slow, indulgent strokes before impatiently gesturing for you to join him. He was a busy man, after all. Knowing Kennedy, he likely had something important to attend to following your tryst. You couldn't help but feel special as you clumsily climbed into the man's lap, facing him. God, he was handsome. You had never been this close to the President before-- you could finally get a proper look at his chiseled, masculine features, made all the more apparent by his ever-present suntan. You understood why nearly every woman you worked with swooned over him. To be completely at Kennedy's mercy like this was sublime.

"Have you uh, done this before?" Kennedy's breath was warm on your neck.

"M-hm," you responded sheepishly. You knew it was unbecoming of an unmarried girl your age, but you knew better than to lie about the time you spent at the local drive-in with a handsy boy or two back in high school.

"You dirty girl." The President began to draw slow circles on your aching clit with his thumb. Immediately, you felt a hot, fluttering sensation in your chest. You tried to hide the immense pleasure you were receiving from such a light touch- you didn't want to come across as too needy. Though, based on how quick you were to disrobe, perhaps that ship had already sailed. Before you had time to gather your thoughts, Kennedy plunged his index finger into your wet little pussy. A sharp, panicked moan escaped your lips. "Hush, you don't want the whole White House to hear you now, do you," he quipped, only half-joking. Though the thought of getting caught was titillating, you decided it would be in your best interest to obey. You ran your hands through his thick, perfect-looking chestnut hair as he roughly thrust his finger deeper inside, desperately grabbing fistfuls to keep yourself from making the mistake of being too loud once more.

Wasting no time, the President slipped his index finger out of you and began stroking his larger-than-average shaft indulgently in preparation. Though you were not a virgin, you still wondered how you would manage to fit the whole thing inside yourself. You were quite petite, and it had been a while, after all. Nervously, you adjusted your position so the tip of Kennedy's throbbing, fully erect cock was resting at your entrance. You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself. You locked eyes as he gently placed his hands on your waist.

"Now, are you going to be a good girl and keep quiet for me?"

"Yes, Mr. President," you whispered coyly.

The President grabbed you by the hips as he nearly slammed himself inside you, setting a feverish pace. Instinctively, you buried your face in his neck and let out a muffled gasp. It hurt at first, but the initial pain gave way to immense pleasure as your muscles relaxed. You bucked your hips up and down, desperately trying to match his rhythm.

"God, you're so tight, just how I like my girls," Kennedy whispered between grunts and curses. All you could muster in response was a soft, tortured whimper as you held onto him for dear life. The throbbing between your legs was excruciating.

Kennedy lowered his lips to your ear. You could nearly feel his teeth against your skin. "I could just hide you away and have you all to myself whenever I want. How does that sound?" You could only moan against his neck-- though the prospect of being one of the President's favorite playthings only made the pleasant sensation in the pit of your stomach grow.

"Oh, Mr. President..." Your breathing hastened as you gave in to the all-consuming wave of pleasure that overtook you. You had never experienced a climax so intense-- it was as if an earthquake raged within you, you couldn't help yourself from trembling as Kennedy continued thrusting roughly. "Atta girl," he whispered. His grip tightened on your hips as his pace increased, his low moans sounding more frustrated by the second.

"Oh, fuck," the President gasped, his head rolling back as he violently came inside you. You could feel his cock furiously throbbing within your walls as you both paused to catch your breath. You sat up straight as you watched him wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Same time next week, doll?" Kennedy asked breathlessly.

You stumblingly dismounted, your knees wobbling like jelly. You wondered how on Earth you would make it home after such an experience.

"Of course, Mr. President."