#well ok by the end of the night i definitely was but that was in no small part thanks to the lack of sleep

[alchemistc]

911 was always in my periphery bc of how popular Buck x Eddie is on Tumblr and Ao3. I didn't really want to watch a cable network procedural drama, especially one that came off as so unserious. I could also see how such invested shipping by a lot of fans who are young and think it’s ok to demand things from the cast and crew would inevitably become a toxic cesspool. I stand by that assessment of the show based on the behavior of the fandom these last months, as well as the overall quality of the writing and how often good story lines just get dropped or undermined.

However, I heard about Buck coming out. Over the summer, I was going through a lot and feeling aimless, so I finally started watching the show. And I liked Buck and Tommy, but what I really loved was the quality of the fan works they inspired. At the end of the day, I never really had real expectations of high quality television from a show like 911; that’s not what it’s for.

Despite this, what really affected me last night—which was also the first episode I bothered watching live ever because of how terrible this last week has been—wasn’t even how badly it was executed or the fact that they broke up. But how unnecessarily and viciously cruel the whole thing felt?

What was the point of showing Tommy as a caring, supportive, present partner in the previous episode if it was going to lead to an unceremonious break up? What was the point of showing his yearning for connection and family only to see him throw it all away? Why have him say such wonderful things about Buck moments before questioning the commitment of their relationship after six months together? What was the point of Buck getting that speech from Josh and bringing up marriage and moving in together and that Tommy had been a transformative relationship when it was going to end with him being dumped? It just felt so horribly cruel to see a character bare his tender heart and see it get stomped on. He looked so sad at the end.

Up till the very end of the episode, I was actually really enjoying it. Their acting was so good from heart eyes to heartbreak, and the show seemed to understand Tommy’s reaction to Buck getting hit on by those women would cause friction. It even made sense to me that Tommy would recoil at the prospect of moving in together because Buck clearly hasn’t come to terms with being queer yet (sir, you haven’t researched the Kinsey scale? You?) And Tommy is also clearly afraid to reach for the connections he wants and the seeming inevitability of his heart being broken and is masking that with nonsense about Buck needing to play the field and the biphobia present wherein. It was such an interesting depth to his character! I thought the break up speech was so well-acted, and I was so ready for the conversation they were going to have that would address it and let them move on together stronger. To see Buck learn from Josh and see the scars Tommy was unintentionally revealing in that moment and address them.

And then the credits started rolling and I felt like I got punched in the gut.

It was definitely the straw that broke the camel’s back for me, with the election and other personal stuff really stressing me out this week. Last night, I felt sick and unable to sleep, and I spent the morning bawling my eyes out. It feels like one of the few things I really looked forward to had been snatched away for the shock factor. I believe the interviews are the definite death knell, but even if you don’t follow the interviews, it was just a cruel way to end the episode. Even if this ends up being a temporary roadblock or they “fix” it, it’ll always leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyway, I’m upset that I let a show I always knew wasn’t very good affect me this much, and I regret spending months of my life on it. But the reason I wanted to send this ask was because my real hyperfixation these last few months was never the show itself; it was always the Bucktommy fandom. Reading some of the most beautiful fanfiction, including yours, these deep and intense character studies or au’s or future fics that show more love to these characters than the show does. The stunning art, the lovingly rendered gifs, the startlingly funny and insightful writing. The fandom has been my real love, and I hope that despite this huge blow, people like you will continue being so immensely creative and artistic for this ship.

I’m sorry this has been so long and vent-y, but I wanted to send you this ask because you’re one of my favorite fic authors, and I’ve been following your posts since last night and you’re still responding to anonymous asks. I’ve always been stealth in the fandom to avoid certain parts of it, so didn’t want this on my own blog. If you do publish it, I hope the other authors and artists and creators who have made my life better get to see it too <3 And that they don’t regret the time and passion and love they’ve poured into the last few months. I have appreciated it, if nothing else.

Hi.

First of all, please don't apologize for the length of this.

Everything you pointed out were exactly the reasons people joined this fandom. Everything you listed here is EXACTLY the reason it left such a bad taste in our mouth.

I'm sorry I won't be more eloquent in this post, because this is such a kind and thoughtful and lovely summation of all the things I've been hearing and seeing and feeling.

The point of all that, if we are to believe Lou (which I do, and honestly props to him for being as gracious as he was in those post-mortems: fucking TWO exit interviews for a guest star? wtf abc), WAS to pull the rug out from under the audience. It WAS to end it all on a shocker of heartbreak. They filmed the bulk of Tommy's S8 scenes AFTER the breakup. It is absolutely vicious and cruel and meant to make people talk about it. The engagement they are getting right now is to some extent WHAT THEY WANTED. I went straight to my notes after work and I can't be fucked to check the insta or FB to see if they've posted anything new and/or what the comment count is on the 8x06 posts but THIS IS THE INTENDED RESULT. Broken hearts, upset people, an increasingly toxic fandom crowing.

That's where I'm at. I think that's where a lot of people have landed. And it's so disheartening to see something that really genuinely drew people in because it was handled so gently and kindly at first just be ripped away and the door shut on it.

And honestly if they close the mid season OR open or close 8B on a premise that includes one of them being injured and the other having a Realization™️ I won't trust this team to do it genuinely or truly. Even the breakup would have held so much potential for me, but not like this.

Anyway. I'm sorry you're feeling so disappointed. I am grieving the missed potential of literally every plot they built up this season for every character and if I do watch it won't be live and I will likely have very little trust for it's potential. There has been So Much wasted potential.

And I want to say thank you. Even if you lurked, even if you disengage now, the creators who made those works made them out of love and they wanted to share them and the community around it all has been lovely to see. Thank you.

Some of us will still be hanging around building the world that could have been. I hope, if you feel up to peeking at that sandbox, that you feel welcome to go play in it or even just clap from the sidelines.

♥️

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 3- Easier Said Than Done

Summary: Frankie's been by your side through some of the hardest moments in your life. Three years have gone by, and now there's no one you want to see less when you find yourself at your lowest.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals, teenage Frankie's back at it again making it impossible for us to hate him!!

A/N: Hello, my name is Madeline and I am unable to stop writing gut wrenching angst and yearning. (Hi, Madeline). Maybe one of these days I'll stop sobbing like an idiot when I write, but I fear that day may not be coming any time soon

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Spring of 2006, Age 17

Most people say it’s the smell of hospitals they can’t stand. For you, it’s the noise. The constant chaos of voices, monitors, sirens, carts clattering as they roll across the never ending linoleum floor drives you insane. Even when it’s quiet, it’s still never silent. There’s always an ever present reminder looming in the distance to not get too comfortable. The inevitable fear that something could go wrong, and have you wishing that all you had to listen to was the ambiance of continual pandemonium. 

That’s why it’s such a relief when you hear the quiet ping of your cell phone resting on the edge of your chair. It’s enough to drown out everything else for a little while. 

Frankie :)))))) 

Hey where r u?

Game starts soon and I cant find u 

Katie and Morgan said they havent seen u either 

R u ok?   

You

Yeah I’m ok. 

Dad passed out and hit his head. Mom wasn’t home so I had to take him to the ER. 

Called Coach K in the ambulance to tell her I won’t be there. 

It’s times like these that it takes everything in you to remind yourself that missing big events to keep your dad alive is better than going to big events without him being here. But when you’re decked head to toe in your soccer uniform, sitting on the edge of your seat in a crowded emergency room instead of getting ready to start the last game of your senior year, it’s hard not to feel a little bitter about it. 

You read back over Frankie’s texts as you wait for his response, doing the quick math in your brain before frantically typing back. 

You

Wait, didn’t you have to work tonight? Are you at the field? 

Frankie :)))))) 

Called off work weeks ago 

U really think I would miss ur last game? Cmon Kenz 

Guess its not a surprise anymore. Surprise! lol 

You hope the nurse passing by doesn’t notice the way you’re grinning like an idiot at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing so wide it’ll hurt your cheeks. You re-read the last three texts over and over, your face growing warmer each time. You’re not sure why you’d expect anything less. It still never fails to make you feel like your heart is seconds away from bursting at the seams. 

Of course he came. 

So lost in your train of thought, you hadn’t seen a fourth text pop up across your screen, only the fifth text of “???” that preceded it. 

Frankie :)))))) 

R u at memorial or westwood hospital? 

??? 

You 

Memorial. Why? 

Frankie :)))))) 

Be there in 15 

You 

Frankie you don’t have to do that 

Frankie :)))))) 

2 L8! Already leaving! See u soon! 

The tears welling in your eyes were most definitely ones of relief, joy even, that Frankie cared enough to attempt to make it to a soccer game you weren’t even at, let alone forgo a night’s worth of pay to drive himself to the hospital to see you. 

Your momentary excitement comes to a sudden stop as onslaught of bodies rush into your room to examine your dad. You’re quick to realize you’ve once again been caught up in a stampede where you’re nothing but another person in the way. An invisible presences that means nothing to anyone in this room. It makes the once blissful wetness welling in the corners of your eyes start to sting with a vengeance. 

But you’ve come very quickly to learn that crying doesn’t help anyone, especially when you’re not the one dying. 

You try not to let it hurt when your mom doesn’t even acknowledge the fact you’re sporting the jersey of the team you were supposed to start playing with twenty minutes ago, like you had brought your dad to the hospital in your uniform because that and your cleats were the easiest thing to throw on before you called 911. It’s even harder to try not to scream at the fact she barely pays your presence any mind, not even so much as a ‘thank you’ for getting your dad to the hospital in one piece. What’s the most painful is that you’re positive that she, or anyone else, even notices you’re gone when you slip out the door.

You’re here so often that the hospital staff don’t mind that you pace up and down the rows of the waiting room. Sure, they’ll be sending you a bill for the hole you’re burning through their carpet eventually, but that’s not today’s problem. 

Right now, part of the reason for your frantic pacing is to cool off some steam so you don’t say something you’ll regret about your dad’s cancer having the audacity to ruin the most important soccer game of your life to date. 

You’re also here so often, the hospital staff know Frankie. So much so, that your favorite receptionist, Cassandra, has more than definitely broken several hospital rules to let Frankie stick around long past visiting hours when you’ve needed it most. That’s why all she has to do is give you that look to break you from your vicious cycle of pacing to let you know when he’s arrived through the sliding glass doors of the front entrance. 

Most times, he at least makes it a few steps inside before you notice him. Tonight, he’s barely halfway through the door before you’re wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug you have to muster. He pulls you in even tighter. 

It’s then that the reality of it all starts to set in. Your best friend had to drive to meet you at the hospital because he’s the only one that remembers you have a soccer game tonight. Your dad is in a cyclical pattern of slowly dying that leaves you feeling like a terrible person for even wishing things were different. You’ve spent the past nine of your seventeen years of life only knowing a world that revolves around cancer. For nine years, you’ve never complained that this is the way your life has been. Tonight, you’ve decided that the weight of the world is un-fucking-fair. 

Tonight, you’re not the one dying, but crying seems like the only reasonable thing left to do. 

You should be embarrassed by how loud your sobs are, how quick the damn breaks once your body finally lets you give into the pain. These are the kind of tears that make your whole body shake, the ones that make your chest hurt because you can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like some poor, lifeless fish, begging to be thrown back to the sea. 

Frankie’s seen you cry before, but not like this. You should care about how your tears are staining the fabric of his t-shirt, how he’s the only thing keeping you standing while your body feels like it’s about to give out underneath you. You hadn’t said a word to each other before you’d collapsed in his arms in a sobbing heap, but right now you don’t care. You can’t. 

You’re sure words are exchanged at some point as he practically carries you out to his truck, at least giving you the decency to finish crying without unwanted eyes in the waiting room glued to you, but right now, you can’t remember. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to get back to the point of being able to breathe at a semi-normal pace, but something tells you that Frankie will hold you for as long as you need him too, crying or not.

He gently strokes your back, his thumb tracing over the fabric of your jersey as it draws small circles over and over, a sweet and simple dance of his fingers that steadies you just enough to keep from flying away. 

“It’s okay, Kenz. It’s okay.” It’s melodic the way Frankie coos it in your ear, like he’s trying to hush a fussy baby fighting sleep. It’ll take time, persistence and patience, but lucky for you, he’s got all three in spades. “I promise you’re okay. I’m here.” 

“This fucking sucks.” It’s not elegant or graceful, but it’s the truth, and right now, it’s all your brain can process. 

“I know it is, Kenzie. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not fair. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life worrying that this is the last day I see him. I just want life to be normal. I just wanna go play my stupid fucking soccer game. It’s not fucking fair.” You ball your fists against Frankie’s chest, pounding into him like he’s the one responsible for your hurt and anger. He’s not the one you need to take it out on, but he’s all you have. You hope he knows it’s not his fault he’s become your emotional punching bag as he takes blow after blow, despite how weak your swings are. You’ve got no strength left to fight. 

“I know. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, MacKenzie.” 

He takes it all until you have nothing left to give. You’ve lost a game no one ever has a chance of winning. Defeat is the unwanted trophy life rewards you with, but Frankie stands at the podium with you. He’ll take the hits if it helps ease the blow. 

“Will you be okay if I’m gone for five minutes? Just five, I promise, and then I’ll be right back.” His question catches you off guard, breaking you from your agitated state, nodding your head just enough to give him the permission he needs to race back through the doors of the hospital as you climb into his passenger seat. 

His truck gives you the kind of familiarity the hospital doesn’t. It’s hard not to find irony in the fact you feel safer in his piece of junk car where the wheels could give out beneath you at any moment than you do in a building that is built for saving people’s lives. Maybe it’s because his truck is filled with the memories of moments in life that make you feel like things are going to be okay. 

With the way Frankie’s breathing as he jumps into the driver’s seat, it’s hard to think he’s not back in less than two minutes, rather than five. He doesn’t say a word to you as he cranks the ignition, only a little prayer under his breath that now’s not a time his engine has chosen to give out on him. He doesn’t let you ask any questions until you’re already on the road. 

“Frankie, what’s- Frankie what are you doing?” 

He’s got that crazed kind of look in his eyes he gets when he’s hellbent on making something happen. He always likes to say that you’re the stubborn one. It makes you wonder the last time he’s taken a good, hard look at himself in the mirror. 

“I’m taking you to your game.” 

He says it so matter of factly, like his response to nearly kidnapping you out of the Memorial Hospital parking lot shouldn’t warrant any questions. 

“What?! Frankie! I can’t just-” 

“The doctor in the room said he’s stable and he probably won’t be conscious for the next few hours anyways. Your mom said it’s fine. I’m not letting you miss out on this. You deserve to get to play, Kenz.” 

You’re not sure at that moment if you want to kiss him or slap him across the back of the head. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. 

“Frankie, I-” 

“I’ll turn around and take you back if you want me to, but I don’t think you want me to turn around.” 

God, maybe you do want to kiss him. 

“I hate you, Francisco, I hope you know that.” 

“I know. It’s okay, you play better when you’re angry, anyways.” 

It’s always the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. The one he makes when he knows he’s right. It’s the same smirk he makes when he greets you after you’ve scored two goals to help your team win the last game of your high school career. The same one he gives you when he buys you ice cream to celebrate with two scoops of cookie dough instead of one, because you won’t stop laughing at his stupid joke about your big appetite for winning. 

That night, you fall asleep on his couch, too tired to drive back to the hospital, too scared to sleep in your house alone. You’re not sure if you mean to doze off with your head resting against his thigh like some sort of makeshift pillow. It’s easiest just to blame it on the fact you’re too exhausted to get up. But as you close your eyes and drift to sleep, you’re almost sure that the only muscle Frankie dares to move is the one that pulls the line of his lips into that same smirk you’d rather die than live without. 

You, Present

You’re shocked your initial response to seeing Frankie Morales for the first time in three years wasn’t immediately slamming your front door in his face and telling him to fuck off. 

That’s what your body wanted you to do. For as badly as it did, your some part of your brain wouldn’t let you. 

It’s probably the same, stupid part of your brain that won’t let you stop staring at him, either. 

He looks good. Way better than you’d like him to. It doesn’t seem fair that he somehow manages to find a way to return home more handsome than when he left. It happens every damn time. You swear he does it on purpose. You don’t know how he could, but that’s what you tell yourself. It makes it easier to hate him. 

“I didn’t know you were home.” 

It’s probably the worst thing you could have said to break the awkward silence stewing between you, because you both know it’s a dirty lie. But at this point, you’re far past granting Frankie the privilege of being a part of the truth- you’ll give him your version of the truth that you want him to hear. You’re not letting him have the upper hand. 

“Yeah. I uh- got home this morning.” 

Good to know the best either of you could do was reduce your relationship down to nothing but lying. If that’s the game he wants to play, then so be it. 

“Drive was good?” 

“Yeah.” Lie. “You?” 

“Fine.” Lie. 

For as much as you know the lies hurt, it’s the curveball you hit him with next that you hope stings the worst. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.” 

Because that was the truth. The way his face drops tells you the guilt ridden punch you’ve socked him with hits exactly where you want it to. You want the truth to hurt more. You want it to hurt just as bad as the way his truth hurt you. 

“Of course I was gonna come.” 

It’s a poor attempt at a swing back. He showed up with a knife at your gun fight. He knows well enough you won’t show him any mercy. 

“Wouldn’t have been the first time you hadn’t shown up for something important, Frankie.” 

“Your dad’s fucking dying MacKenzie, what makes you think I wouldn’t be here?” 

“Well, he’s been dying for the past three years so I’m glad you’re deciding to show up when it’s convenient for you.” 

That one shuts him up real fucking fast. 

His jaw ticks as he takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky like there’s something written in the clouds that will give him instructions on what to say next. There’s not much he could say at this point that would shock you, but Frankie never ceases to be full of surprises, whether you like it or not. 

“I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m sorry.” 

That shuts you up even quicker. 

It shuts you up because you know he’s not lying. The truth is buried in the way his voice breaks at the start of your name, the way the “K” trembles off his tongue and shakes in the back of his throat. 

Your heart is mangled in your chest, hearing him say the two words you’d never thought you’d get and realizing you can’t accept it. 

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Frankie.” 

Neither of you are sure what to say. It’s tough to tell if the fight is over because Frankie’s stabbed you to death and you’ve unloaded every last bullet you had, or if you decided to put your weapons down and walk away before any casualties have occurred. While it’s hard to deny it’s the latter of the two options, at least the first one would have been the honorable way to go. 

“Honey, is that Frankie at the door? Let him in, MacKenzie, don’t make him stand out there!” 

If there’s one thing you can always count on your mom for, it's that she’ll never fail to have impeccable timing, for better or worse.  

You don’t intend for the sigh you let out to be as loud as it is, but it certainly makes it clear to Frankie you aren’t happy about obliging to your mom’s request. You expect him to pass you like you don’t exist, entering your house to greet the two of the three family members who still care about him enough to not burn a hole through his chest every time they look at him, but he doesn’t. He waits for your okay, frozen on the porch until the subtle shrug of your shoulders signals you’ve given him the all clear to pass. He wants to know you’ll at least let him through unscathed for now. 

You follow behind him as he enters your house, trying to ignore the fact you’re entranced by the dark brown curls that still tickle the nape of his neck as he walks, or how the width of his shoulders nearly stretch from one end of the door frame to the other. You’re starting to regret not letting him follow you in  instead. 

You nearly bump into him with how quick he is to freeze once he sees the state of your living room. In the past few weeks, it’s made a terrible transformation from the space you once knew to a makeshift hospital room. The hospice workers had crowded your house with beds, oxygen tanks, and a wheelchair your dad refuses to sit in, an endless puzzle of enough supplies to let your father die in his own home, rather than the cold, sterile wasteland of the nearest hospital. 

You’d been able to ease yourself into your dad’s decline. You’d watched the months leading up to now as his body became weaker and sicker, reducing down to nothing but bones and deep, dark set eyes. You were a first hand witness to how cancer had greedily sucked every ounce of life he had left in him, taking and taking until he had nothing left to give. 

Last time Frankie saw your dad he was in remission. He looked good, healthy, even. That was three years ago. Frankie would have never imagined barely being able to recognize the man that was the closest thing to a real father he’d ever get. 

You want to scream at him that it’s his own damn fault he’s this shocked when he comes face to face with the shell of the man your dad used to be. But with the way you can practically see the guilt oozing out of Frankie with every step he takes towards the near lifeless body lying in the misplaced hospital bed in your living room, you can’t help but let your empathy get the best of you. 

“Hi Frankie, how are you? It’s so good to see you, honey.” 

Even though your mom knows you’re seconds away from wanting to dropkick Frankie off the face of the earth, there are few things she’ll ever let get in the way of her warm and welcoming demeanor. 

Frankie’s still borderline speechless as your mom grabs the tray of cookies he’s been awkwardly toting before she embraces him, arms still glued to his sides like he’s too afraid to move. The way she’s got him in the hug gives him no choice but to stare at the unsettling image of your dad over her shoulder, barely strong enough to turn his head to see what all the fuss is about. 

“H-hi, Mrs. Anderson. I’m okay. It’s good to see you, too.” 

“Is that my Frank the Tank? C’mere, kiddo. I was hopin’ I’d get to see you.” 

The past few weeks have made you shed enough tears to last a lifetime. Never once did you expect the thing that would make you cry the hardest out of everything you’d been through was hearing the long lost excitement in your dad’s voice upon Frankie’s return. 

It’s childish, the way you storm upstairs and slam your bedroom door behind you without a word, heat seething through your veins at the way your dad was so quick to forgive, welcoming Frankie back into his home like a day hadn’t passed, like he had been there right alongside him every step of the way through his descent. Your blood boils at the fact your father can’t be bothered to remember that Frankie had been nowhere to be found for three fucking years. Not a text, not a call, not even a “Frankie says hi!” through his mother four doors down. 

You can deal with the embarrassment of throwing a full blown temper tantrum later, but that’s more tolerable than spending another second in the same room as Frankie.  

“Well,” your dad huffs, his face grimaced with sarcasm as he looks back and forth between your mom, Frankie, and the empty presence you’d left behind, “that went well.” 

“Sorry about that, she’s um-” 

“She’s fine. Just stubborn.” Your dad grumbles, cutting off your mom with the best attempt he can make to raise his arm from the bed and wave her off. 

“No, I uh- it’s fine, I just- I should probably get going, don’t wanna take um- take up too much of your time.” Frankie’s heart sinks in the uncomfortable silence, quietly cursing himself for the mess he’s made. 

“It’s what, 8 o’clock in the morning? You got a bingo game at the senior center you need to get to, young man?” 

“No, I just-” 

“Perfect, no is the only word I needed to hear.” Your dad weakly smiles, gently patting the edge of the bed for Frankie to join him. 

Your heart winces hearing the heavy footsteps a floor below you from your bedroom, knowing the direction they’re heading is only further into your house and not back out the front door where you’d prefer him to be.

Thank goodness your dad has lost the ability to speak loud enough for you to hear the words that follow the thumps of Frankie’s feet. 

“Frankie, I’ve lived a very happy life. There are few things about it I’d change. But you know just as well as me that my daughter is the one who so lovingly inherited my stubbornness. Lucky for me, God knows I’m stubborn enough not to die until you and her figure this out. Unlucky for the both of you, that my time for stubbornness is starting to run thin.”

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[f1owermoon]

sorry i just. need to rant for a second

[hoperays-song]

Johnny’s Money

Can we look at the money we see Johnny have in Sing 2? 

One, his wallet is literally falling apart at the seams which supports my last theory. Two, the money in his wallet in the above picture is wrinkled to all get out, the money he places on the table is very much not. 

That stood out to me in particular because we know the money on the table is $50, all in smaller bills by the looks of it, so it’s not money from a heist (especially with those being so long ago), and it’s more than likely not how he gets paid for his work at the theatre. No theatre as successful as the New Moon Theatre would be paying their employees in small bills, so why does he have so many in such good condition?

The money still in his wallet appears to be two small bills, a $20 and a $5(?) and are pretty wrinkled. They look like they might be change due to how fast they appear to have been shoved in the wallet and since Johnny just bought a skateboard, that’s what I’m going with. The money he probably used to buy that skateboard was more than likely his own from working at the theatre, and he probably withdrew it from his bank account before the trip to avoid losing his credit/debit card (the boy grew up in major cities and keeps his wallet in the inside pocket of his jacket, he’s all too aware of pickpockets).

Now on to the theory. The fact that all the clean, unwrinkled money is exactly $50 stood out to me. It seemed like an oddly specific amount to mention, so I looked it up. And it turns out that buses between Las Vegas and Los Angeles, the real world base locations of Redshore and Calatonia, can range from $25 to $60. Johnny might have some money he’s found or been given by Rosita or Buster during the trip, but it definitely wouldn’t be $50 worth, and would likely look more like the crumpled bills still hastily shoved in his wallet. So who would have given him money, a fair bit of money to be honest here, in neat, clean bills? 

Well it’s obvious, Marcus would. Johnny and his family don’t have a ton of money in Sing 2, more than in the first movie to be fair, but still nowhere near the “$50 being play money” mark. They would more than likely be overly careful with their money, keeping it in good condition so there’s no chance of it being rejected for being a damaged bill (yes, that can happen), so the neatness of the bills would make sense. 

Therefore, my theory is: Marcus gave his son enough money to make sure he could get home if he needed to. He made sure Johnny had an out if need be, could afford a bus ticket even if it was a more expensive one. And judging by the family’s rough finances, that was probably all the spare money they had laying around. That was what they had left from costumers after bills had been payed and he gave it all to Johnny just in case he needed it.

[nothingweirdhere]

been awake for 36 hours….. now i sleep

[crossbackpoke-check]

Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)

art kid luke hughes

[praseodykemium]

2:48 am 6 April 2024

tonight I ate a huge block of chocolate and I felt like killing myself. I'm not suicidal. My right thigh really aches where I sometimes cut it months ago. And now while writing, I feel like shitting myself because my stomach does this surrendering thing when I feel any strong emotions. I'm not even sure what emotion it is this time.

Sometimes I cry out of nowhere. The tears just come I am not in control of them. They are usually preceded by some screeching from me. I don't know why I do that either. I hurt my close ones doing that and I don't like it.

I don't have any friends I can talk to. Well I was talking to a friend in the evening (11pm) and the discussion kinda upset me (made me feel like a worthless creature who should cease from existence), and so I watched 6 episodes of Fleabag and related and laughed and felt a lot of things but mainly- "what am I doing with my life? Have I no ambition? I should be studying for an exam next year and not enjoying something" <— that (the last two sentences) was actually from the discussion with the friend.

She said we are all born equally smart. Some just work harder than others. And she compared me and meghna (who is ofcourse better than me despite me besting her in most of our school exams in 12th. She was a topper in 11th and I was not. I'm glad in a way that everyone remembers that. I really hated expectations. But yeah that kinda stung. It wasn't the main hit, far from it). She said that her parents and loads of other doctors work REAAALLY HARD and ARE PERRRRFECTLY HEALTHY (when I told her that over pressuring yourself with work is gonna bring a cerebral stroke and you'll die early and not get to enjoy any of your money and respect and freedom.)

SO THEN IN MY HEAD, MY STUPID MIND TWISTED THST SENTENCE AND MADE IT INTO "OH I CALLED YOUR BLUFF. YOURE JUST OVERREACTING. CEREBRAL STROKES ARE A MYTH BECAUSE OHHHHHH LOOK ST ME BOASTING MY SUPER FIT AND HEALTHY AND ALIVE PARENTS WHO WORK ALL DAY!!!!!" (I hope that everyone she thought of in that list of perfectly healthy and alive workaholics STAY HEALTHY AND WELL AND ALIVE. MAY SHE NEVER FIND OUT THAT BITTER BITTER BLOW THAT CHANGES YOUR PERCEPTION OF THE WORLD. MAY SHE NEVER LOSE HER PARENTS YOUNG. GOD BLESS EVERYONE SHE THOUGHT OF AND MORE 🛐)

BUT FUCK YOU VERSHA FOR SAYING THAT because unknowingly you touched a nerve I didn't even know I still had alive. FUCK ME. God I hate everything. I really relate to fleabag rn even though I have no qualifications other than my dad dying to feel relatable to her saying "I feel like crying. All the time."

Its been 3 years and I still haven't gotten over my drunk brother (cousin) molesting me at 15. Because we were really close at a point in time (YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP). AND I TRUSTED HIM MORE THAN ANYONE. I AM STILL NOT OVER IT.

i feel I was hypersexual from as long as I can remember. I had this repeating dream-vision-imagination thing that I am in a hospital lying with my lower body uncovered naked and the doctor calling in my super older than me ( when I was 15 he was 23 or something and the younger one was probably 21) cousin brothers— to come and stare at my genitals. I have had this dream thingy since as long as I can remember. It was often repeating in my head. I do not know why. I was assaulted YEARS later by the both of them on multiple separate occasions but that foreshadowing was thoroughly confusing and unasked for and really fucked up my childhood.

I have been masturbating since as long as I can remember as well. I don't know what's wrong with me. But I'm terrified of men. And I am terrified of being penetrated. I would rather die a virgin honestly. But I'm also really fucking horny all the time. But I really really really do not want anybody to touch my naked body ever.

whenever somebody invades (accidentally or otherwise) my personal space, I have this passive surrendering feeling wash over me like a drug. Like I know that I hate it, I'm aware of me hating someone doing that but it's just that twisted horny part of me or something else maybe i don't know that forces me to remain stationary like a soldier called to attention. I let the intrusive hand finger thigh do whatever the fuck it wants to do and I stay completely still. It's not supposed to be this way. I'm a strong (not really), adult (19 in June this year), aware (vividly aware of articles and awareness videos, Wikipedia and RAIIN articles about every sexual assault terminology, their after effects, mental disorders, percentages, everything) woman with a brown belt in karate. I should do better than this. But my STUPID FUCKING TWISTED MINDED BODY REFUSES TO SEE REASON AND FOLLOW THROUGH WITH MOVING AWAY. SO YEAH FUCK ME I GUESS IM NOT GONNA GIVD CONSENT BUT I CAN JUST STAND HERE AND BE A REALLY GOOD WANKING MATERIAL FOR YOU.

I have to sleep it's 3:27 am now. And I really hate Martin (Claire's i.e. fleabag's sister's husband) from Fleabag.

I think fleabag's therapist scene brought this rant on. And my right thigh really fucking hurts.

[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[yuujispinkhair]

Hey Winter, What are your thoughts on a friends with benefits trope with Yuuji and the reader? Love your stories btw 💗💗🩷🩷

Friends with benefits with Yuuji

Yuuji loves to be friends, and he loves to fuck. So why not combine two of his favorite things? After all, he can be your best buddy and give you backshots, right?

Pairing: Yuuji x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff, College AU Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, handjob, fingering, oral, facesitting, fucking, squirting, loud sex. All characters are of age. Banners by @/benkeibear

It happens so naturally and without being planned or anything. Yuuji likes being your friend. He likes that you get along so well that you can laugh together and watch movies and play video games and cook together and go to fast-food restaurants in the middle of the night. He loves being best friends!

But Yuuji is also a horny boy, and he cannot stop his mind from providing him with dirty thoughts anytime you bend over and he sees your round ass right in front of his face. He cannot stop his body from reacting to being cuddled up with you under a blanket during a movie marathon and feeling your warm body press against him and your head landing in his lap, so damn close to his dick.

Yeah, he is embarrassed and feels guilty when he gets hard from watching you change in front of him. You thought it was no big deal to quickly shrug out of your shirt and sweatpants to put on a better outfit to leave the house. But Yuuji's dick decided it was a big deal, and now his honey eyes are heavy-lidded, and his tan cheeks are flushed. And you can definitely see the huge tent in your best friend's grey sweatpants.

Yuuji's sheepish smile and muttered apology don't take away the evidence that his body obviously wants you. He gulps hard as your eyes widen, and you grin while shaking your head,

"We can't go out like that, Yuu."

And he groans and nods,

"Yeah, I know! I am sorry! My dick is acting so stupid sometimes! Give me a few minutes, and it will be fine again."

He hopes he can will his erection away. Or should he just go to the bathroom and jack off? But before he can decide what to do, you take a step closer to him, and he feels a bit dizzy at the way your gaze is fixed on the bulge in his sweats while you lick your lips.

"Or... I could help you with that."

Maybe it's just meant as a joke. Maybe Yuuji is supposed to laugh and tell you to stop teasing him. But honestly, his ears are ringing, and he feels his cock twitch in interest at your words. He cannot think straight anymore. He always gets a bit stupid when he's horny. And so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is,

"You really wanna help? You don't have to..."

"It's ok, we are best friends. You are closer to me than anyone else, Yuu. And well, it's been a while since I touched a guy, and I kind of... crave it?"

Yuuji only blinks at you for a second before he nods wildly. How could he say no to such a nice offer? He's already lifting his hips and pushing down his sweats and the red boxer briefs underneath, spreading his muscular thighs and taking his fat cock in his hand and pumping it eagerly while a shaky moan escapes his lips,

"Fuck! Then yeah, help me please..."

The first touch of your fingertips to his swollen tip has him whining, and it only takes a short time before he cums all over your hand, nutting so hard that he sees stars.

Fuck, he likes that! It's so easy with you, so uncomplicated. He already likes you so much, and now he can also get his cock stroked by you and maybe even get a chance to touch you too. It really sounds like a perfect deal!

He hasn't even tucked himself back into his pants when the words tumble out of his mouth,

"Thank you... Um, can I repay the favor? I mean, you got me off, and it only seems fair that I get you off, too. Can I? Please?"

That's how you end up on his lap, naked from the waist down, two of Yuuji's thick fingers pumping in and out of your dripping wet cunt while his thumb plays with your clit, making you dig your nails into his broad shoulders and shake and tremble from the intensity of your orgasm on your best friend's hand.

Yuuji is the one who suggests the friends-with-benefits arrangement after that mind-altering experience. After all, he really likes being friends, and he really likes to fuck, so why not combine two of his favorite things? He simply cannot find any downside to that.

"So, we are best friends, and you made me cum, and I made you cum, and I really liked it. Was it good for you too? We could add that to our friendship. If it's ok with you. I mean, sometimes, you know? When we crave it. You are single, and I am single, and I don't really like going to clubs and finding someone just for one night. And you don't do that either. So, maybe we could just make each other feel good sometimes when we feel like it. Would that be ok?"

It is ok, and suddenly, your friendship is not just super fun and goofy but also super sexy.

Only two days later, you both get so riled up while sitting next to each other playing a video game that you end up sloppily making out and feeling each other up through your clothes, dry humping until you both can't take it anymore and tear at each other's clothes.

Finally, Yuuji's large hands are on your juicy ass, kneading your plump cheeks thoroughly while his eyes stare hungrily and his mouth is hanging open, drooling over himself as he looks at you on all fours in front of him, completely naked, ass wiggling teasingly for him, your pussy dripping wet and ready for him to fuck it and make you and him feel good.

Yuuji asks himself why he didn't think of this whole friends-with-benefits thing sooner! He moans so loud that the neighbors hear him when he finally sinks his fat cock into you and fucks you so good you nut three times for him and mewl his name over and over again.

The two of you start to experiment. Trying new positions, you never did before but always wanted to try. Learning each other's body and how to get the best reactions. It's shameless and easy. There are no secrets between you, no taboos. You are best friends, after all. You can tell each other everything. And do everything with each other.

You tell Yuuji no guy ever took such good care of you in bed when he pulls you on his face and eats you out for a whole hour. And it makes him so happy because he likes you so much, and you are his bestie and deserve the world, and Yuuji is delighted to give you that!

It's so natural, so easy to do this friends-with-benefits thing with you. You come to his apartment and tell him you are stressed, and Yuuji fucks you right there up against the wall and afterward on his bed and doesn't let go of you until you squirt all over his cock and are thoroughly satisfied and practically fucked dumb on his cock.

The two of you watch a movie, and your hand naturally slips into Yuuji's sweats to give him a slow handjob because you know he loves that while watching movies. And his hand slips into your pants, too, and rubs circles around your clit until you mess up your panties from cumming so much.

He groans about being so stressed from all those stupid assignments, and you crawl under his desk and give him a blow job that helps him relax, kissing his cum-stained tip afterward and smiling up at him and patting his thigh, telling him he will ace his assignment with your help.

And all the time, the two of you have so much fun, laughing about small mishaps and giggling after screaming each other's name during a particularly intense fuck. It's easy. It's fun. You know each other so well and trust each other completely. It's so freeing to just fuck each other on top of being best friends. There is no shame, no holding back, just horny, needy fucking anytime you need it.

And comforting, sweet kisses and warm cuddles.

You both don't realize that you are practically already a couple. Maybe the kissing marathons should give it away, the hours cuddled up in bed where you just kiss and talk and smile at each other. Maybe the fact that neither of you even tries to get to know someone else should be an indicator.

The two of you go to a party together, which is a perfectly normal thing best friends do. Ok, Yuuji admits that the way you dance with each other is a bit dirtier than only friends would do, but he is fine with people knowing you are friends with benefits, and this is nothing new after all.

But what is new is that you kiss him right there in the middle of the dancefloor, and it somehow makes Yuuji feel so proud that he is the only one you kiss. He finds that he can't pull away from you, and so he just keeps kissing you, just keeps pulling you tighter against his body, making out with you until his head spins.

It is Nobara who asks the question when she walks into the kitchen later on and sees how Yuuji has you pressed up against the fridge with his tongue down your throat and your fingers in his pink hair.

"What the fuck? Why didn't you two tell me you are dating??"

"Because we aren't."

"When what is this?"

"We are friends... friends who make out and... have sex sometimes."

"Don't give me that shit. The two of you have practically been married for two years. Everyone says that. We were just wondering why you never made it official. Oh well, the cat's out of the bag now. Quick, let me text everyone!!"

And with that, Nobara leaves Yuuji and you standing there, your fingers still tangled in Yuuji's soft pink strands, your lips still swollen from his kisses, and finally, something clicks in his mind, and he smiles his sheepish smile at you and is like,

"I didn't know I am a married man, but I kinda like it. What about you?"

HE MAKES ME FEEL SO AAAHHHH!!!! I ruined my panties writing this. Thank you so much for sending me this prompt!! I see Yuuji as the best guy for friends to lovers, and the friends-with-benefits trope is the perfect way to get there!! I really think he is incapable of keeping things casual but also kind of oblivious until someone else points it out ;)

I love horny boy Yuuji!! I hope you like him too!!

Please let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments would be super sweet 💗

[miley1442111]

hi!!! Can you do a Spencer Reid x fem reader where she doesn't work for the bau and meets the team for the first time and her and Spencer are just so in love and practically attached at the hip, sharing drinks, holding hands, and just being so cute and the team is shocked and teases Spencer about her and how he acts with her but they are so happy for him

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

you make me happy- s.reid

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

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

a/n: i love this idea!!! thank you so much for requesting :)

summary: spencer acts different around you and it shocks the team

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: none

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

Everyone on the team was shocked. They’d just decided to go out for drinks after a case, and there you were, Spencer’s girlfriend. 

What?

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

It had been an awful week at your job, your asshole boss was being an asshole, your creepy co-worker followed you to your car, someone else took credit for your work in the project you just wrapped, and on top of it Spencer was away all week. 

But there he was, in the same bar as this stupid wrap party.

He sent you over a drink, labelling it from ‘your secret admirer’, and when you caught his eye you both smiled and waved at each other, happy to know he was back and you could be together again. Even if ‘being together’ meant staring at each other from across the bar and texting under the table. 

You: Thank you for the drink :)

Spencer: It's no problem, sorry I was gone all week. How was work? (I’m not sure how to do the smiley-face thing, sorry!)

You: It was awful :( I’ll tell you about it later, have a fun night love you! Gtg

Spencer: what does ‘gtg’ mean?

You: Lol, ‘got to go’.

Spencer: what’s ‘lol’

You: ‘laugh out loud’

“Y/n!” your friend shook you away from your phone.

“Yes?” you answered, hastily putting it back in your bag. 

“There’s a guy on that table that is totally checking you out,” she smirked. “Finally ready to end this dry-spell?”

“I already told you I’m not looking for anything right now,” you sighed. “I’m happy how I am.”

None of your work friends knew about you and Spencer, mostly because you weren't really close with them and in part because they’re the nosiest people known to man. 

“Fine, suit yourself,” she rolled her eyes and continued the conversation with the rest of the table. You looked in the direction of Spencer’s table and only saw him in front of you. 

“Hi,” he smiled, waving awkwardly.

“Hi,” you smiled back, heat creeping up your face as you felt all eyes on the table turn to you and Spencer. 

“I want you to meet some people, is that ok?” he asked and you nodded. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you smiled at the rest of your table. Spencer held your hand in his as you walked back to the table to be met with six pairs of eyes trained on the two of you. 

“Well, this is my girlfriend,” Spencer admitted sheepishly as jaws dropped. 

A chorus of  “Since when?”, “why didn’t you tell us?”, “how long?”, and “how did you pull her?” started and you just chuckled as Spencer’s face became increasingly red. 

“Guys! Stop!” he laughed. “I’ll answer your questions just maybe… introduce yourselves first?” 

“I’m Derek Morgan,” he sent you a wink and you chuckled.

“Aaron Hotchner,” he held out his hand to be shook, and you took it. He’s definitely the father-figure of the group.

“Penelope Garcia, I cannot wait to invite you on our girls trips, you will just adore-”

“Pen,” Spencer sighed, a certain desperation in his voice that made you squeeze his hand, assuring him that it’s alright. 

“Emily Prentiss,” she shook your hand. 

“Jennifer Jareau but everyone calls me Jj.” 

“David Rossi.”

“And of course, you know Spencer,” Derek smiled.

You sat beside Spencer and introduced yourself and the questions started pouring in. As you sat beside him, Spencer’s hand circled your waist and he held you close to him, his hands all over you. 

“Where did you meet?” Derek asked. 

“At the library,” Spencer answered. “We were… arguing over a translation in a book. She was right but-”

“What language?” Emily asked. 

“German,” you smiled. “I’m fluent.”

“Are you from Germany?” She asked. 

“No, I just learnt it when I was a kid. My parents were professors of language when I was a kid so they just made me learn as many as possible.”

Spencer’s hands moved from your waist slowly down to your hips and he pressed a mindless kiss to your shoulder as the conversation went from your relationship to other things. He was all over you all night and you didn’t even mind. He drank from your drink, his eyes were more often than not focused on you, his hands were all over you, to say it was jarring for the team would've been an understatement. He'd never been one for physical touch, but here he was, practically draped over you.

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

At one point, he went to the bathroom and all eyes were on you again.

“Is he… Is he usually like that?” Derek smirked. 

“Like what?” You asked.

“All over you?” Derek chuckled. “I mean the kid barely lets us touch the things on his desk, let alone touch him.”

You shrugged. “He just… doesn’t mind when it’s me, I guess.”

The team shared a smile with each other and you felt even more self-conscious. “What?”

“He really likes you,” Aaron smiled. “It’s just nice to know that he’s… happy. Especially after all he’s been through.”

You felt a sense of pride in your chest and you smiled back at them. 

“What did I miss?” Spencer asked, sitting beside you again. 

“Nothing much, just questioning your girl on your habits. I had no idea you still slept with the light on-” Derek teased but Spencer shut his mouth by shoving him over.

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

The rest of the night was full of laughter until Spencer and you drove home. You stepped inside the house and toed off your shoes, then turned to Spencer, kissing him heavily. His hands landed on your ass, softly kneading the flesh there. 

When you pulled away, you two were already at the couch and he was under you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled. “So… what did you think?” he asked nervously.

“I thought they were wonderful,” you smiled and kissed him again, softer this time. 

Spencer smiled. “Good. I really wanted you to like them.”

“Well I do,” you smiled.

“What did you talk about when I went to the bathroom?” He asked, his hands wandering up your body to brush some hair out of your face.

“Oh just the usual, our sex life-” you teased but he cut you off with a groan and let his head fall back against the couch.

“Please tell me you’re joking?”

“I am,” you chuckled. “They said they were happy that you’re happy. They’re happy that I make you happy.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “That’s not too bad then,” he smiled and there was a charged silence for a few moments. You two just looked at each other, drinking each other in.

“They’re right,” Spencer suddenly spoke up.

“What?” you asked. 

“You make me happy. Very happy,” he smiled and you swear you could’ve cried. 

“You make me happy too,” you smiled through misty eyes. 

You two didn’t need to talk anymore. You both knew what it meant. You were in love.

His lips pressed against your for the third time that night.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[ithebookhoarder]

Special Delivery (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)

Description: Something's different about Reid and no-one knows what. However, a surprise delivery to the BAU may just have the answer...

Warnings: Food references, mentions of mental health, mentions of medical procedures, references to smutty behaviour, Spencer being adorable

Masterlist

“Ok. Am I the only one who’s noticed something’s different with Reid lately?” Morgan remarked, watching as the said boy-genuis made his way across the bullpen and over to his desk. 

“Yeah,” Emily hummed, watching the young agent over the rim of coffee cup. She had to admit it - as much as it annoyed her - Morgan was right; Spencer has definitely been acting different. If anything, she was surprised it had taken them all this long to say anything. 

Normally, they were all over each other the moment they noticed anything even remotely different about each other. Hell, she’d barely taken a step off the elevator, after getting an extra few inches cut off at her latest haircut, before the team were quizzing her about possible life changes and whether or not they needed to be worried about her. 

It was a hazard of working with profilers for a living; it was almost impossible to keep anything a secret. No wonder they were all intrigued and slightly confused by the fact that none of them had been able to pinpoint what was going on with their friend. 

The most notable difference was the gradual disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Reid also seemed happier in general, less quiet and reserved when talking to others, and it was starting to make agents talk. 

Morgan and Emily stood up straighter as JJ walked over to join the unofficial gossip session. She took one look at the pair and knew immediately what they were whispering about. 

“Are you talking about Reid?”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan grinned, “my money’s on him having finally found someone.”

Emily choked, seemingly as a result of inhaling her coffee at the grand statement. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Miss ‘super spy’. Just look at him,” he teased. “He’s been distracted. He’s all goo-goo eyed and he’s been leaving this place at a normal hour. Like… tell me that doesn’t scream ‘I got a date’.”

“What? It could be loads of things. It doesn’t have to be a date, right JJ?”

“He’s probably just happy. We’ve all been getting more sleep lately and our paperwork is non-existent at the moment,” JJ murmured, reaching past the pair of them to grab for the coffee pot. She was clearly doing her best to try and put this line of questioning to rest. She’d always been the first to protect the younger agent she now saw as a little brother. “Besides, we all know he’s not interested in dating, he hasn’t been since…. Well, you know.”

Morgan groaned. “But what about the secret texts, JJ!” he protested, ignoring the look Emily shot him in return. “He’s been glued to that phone of his and keeps giggling like a school kid. Then there’s the lunches! I know he’s always been organised and likes things a certain way, but damn. His lunches have been like next level - and actually healthy? And I swear he’s had jello like every day.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “You’re basing your profile on jello? Is that it?” 

“Well, no I mean… did you not hear the part about the texting and the taking secret calls and the fact he didn’t come out for drinks last night-”

“-Can’t we just be glad for him? Whatever is going on, it’s good for him. Let’s just drop it, ok? He’ll tell us when he’s ready if there’s anything to share.”

“JJ’s right,” Emily echoed. “Reid’s just … happy. End of.”

By the way Morgan frowned it looked like it definitely was not the end of this conversation, but he never got the chance to argue. In fact, he was interrupted as the main doors opened next to them and a rather lost looking receptionist hurried through. 

Normally, this wouldn’t have been worth noticing but all three of them spun around at the sound of him calling out the name, “Agent Reid? uh… Is Agent Reid here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Spencer shouted, soundly vaguely like he was taking roll call. It didn’t help that he shot his arm up in the air too, almost falling off his desk chair as he lurched to his feet and hurried over. “That’s… that’s me - and it’s Dr Reid, but it doesn’t matter. How can I help?”

“Oh, uh, there’s a Y/N at reception for you,” the unfortunate messenger managed, gesturing back the way they’d came. “I told them to wait whilst I came to check with you as they’re not on your visitor list-”

Spencer didn’t even let the poor man finish. He was already racing for the door before the man had even made it to the end of the sentence. Needless to say, the others were quick to follow, with Morgan smugly boasting “told you soooo” as he went. 

There was no way on earth they were missing this and considering Hotch and Rossi hadn’t arrived yet it wasn’t like they were about to get their asses handed to them for missing their briefing either. 

Despite the amount Spencer had told you about the BAU, you were still surprised by how different the FBI offices were to what you’d imagined. 

The offices were larger and the sheer number of people walking about in suits and carrying a side arm made you feel even more nervous, and that was already a problem considering you were stood there wearing neon blue scrubs, embroidered with jungle animals on the pocket. 

You were like a walking, flashing sign, screaming ‘outsider - does not work here’.  Thankfully, you weren’t going to be there long. You were only swinging by on your way to work, hoping to catch your utterly perfect - and utterly forgetful - boyfriend, before the start of your shift. 

Speaking of Spencer, you had only been standing there for possibly five minutes when you saw him barreling through the doors towards you. 

“Hey, Spence-“

“Y/N? Honey? What’s going on?” he gushed, hurrying over and taking your face in his hands. You could see his wide eyes frantically scanning every inch of you, looking for some kind of problem or sign that you were not ok. “Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden display of concern, very much aware of the scene your wonderful boyfriend was making. Spencer wasn’t normally the most affectionate in public, preferring to save those rare moments for when the two of you were alone. The fact he was so worried about what might have brought you to the FBI on a Tuesday morning was touching and made your heart swell. 

“I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry-” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“You forgot something,” you soothed, pulling back and reaching into your satchel. It was impossible to miss the way his face reddened as you pulled out a neatly labeled Dr Who Tupperware by way of explanation. “I’m here because you were in such a rush this morning that you forgot your lunch.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” you teased. “I couldn’t exactly let you go hungry so I thought I’d drop it off on my way to work. I don’t start till later as I’m covering Amelia’s shift as she’s visiting her sister in Boston, so I thought I’d swing by.”

Sure, Spencer was an adult and you could have let him just buy something from the cafeteria or order something in for lunch, but considering how much effort he had gone to to cook with you the day before you felt bad letting it go to waste. 

He’d been so proud of the way the recipe had turned out, following the instructions and your guidance with extreme precision and care. The result had been a rather tasty looking dish - and it had the added benefit of being healthy too. You were always worried that Spencer seemed to think fast food, like Pizza, was a food group. Then again, he had been forced to be an adult pretty fast and had been in college so young that it wasn’t a surprise that no-one had been there to teach him about cooking and eating right. He had been too focused on his studies to even think about anything else.  

It was something he had been working on since you’d got together and now cooking had become one of your favourite date night activities. It didn’t hurt that you often ended up spilling food all over yourselves and needing to shower together - it was just a lovely bonus. In fact, your screensaver was now a picture of you and Spencer, covered in flour, and beaming ear to ear. 

“Thank you, that… that’s so nice,” Spencer stammered, “but I feel bad. You didn’t need to go out of your way and bring it to me.”

“As I say, it’s on my way to work. It’s no trouble.”

“Well, still-“

“Hey, pretty boy!” 

Spencer froze. 

“You gonna introduce us to your friend, or what?”

Spencer opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. You knew by the way he rolled his eyes and began muttering under his breath that whoever had shouted that had definitely been talking to him. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Pretty boy, huh?” 

“Don’t ask,” he whined, taking a deep breath as you looked over his shoulder and saw a small group of people now making their way towards you. “I should probably mention that I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with me mentioning you, so I haven’t told anyone about us yet and those idiots are some of my team and I would say ‘run’ but they’re all faster than me.”

“Ah… I see. So I’m guessing that one is Morgan?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, no time like the present,” you cheered, turning and waving at the approaching trio. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N - Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“Wow. A girlfriend?” cooed Morgan, reaching over to pull you into a hug before the other two could stop him. To their credit, they looked slightly embarrassed by the display but they were clearly too interested in your identity to care. “And a doctor to boot? Didn’t know he had it in him. I’m Derek Morgan.”

“Oh, I worked that out. It’s good to finally meet you all.” 

The others were quick to echo the sentiment, with JJ and Emily quickly introducing themselves in tandem. They were also quick to invite you inside the office for some coffee, but thankfully you weren’t lying when you said you had to get to work. 

“You know how it is. People to take care of, medical cases to solve, lives to save - same old, same old. All I’m missing is a snazzy badge and I could be an FBI agent.” 

“Ha ha.” Spencer’s smile was genuine as you stole a kiss before making a dash for your car. However, you could see the nerves in his eyes at being left alone to face the great inquisition that now awaited him following the discovery of your existence. You were pretty sure the entire BAU would know about you before it even hit lunchtime. “I’ll see you later, ok?” 

“Of course. Just let me know if you’re coming home or if you’re off saving the world in another state - otherwise I can’t promise I won’t eat all the leftovers before you get back.” 

He chuckled. “Will do.” 

With that, you bid the others goodbye, making sure to agree when they asked (more like insisted) that you came to their family dinner on Friday night at none other than Rossi’s house. The rest of the team were going to be begging to meet you after this, and they were all bringing their families along too. 

If Spencer wasn’t comfortable with you going you were pretty sure the team would believe it if you said you’d got called into a last minute surgery, but you’d check later when you both returned to the apartment you now called your home. Either way, you were going to have to make something to take with you, just in case. 

As your grandpa had always said, there was no quicker way to someone’s heart than through their stomach. Or, as in Spencer's case, with an unlimited supply of Jello...

[teddybeartoji]

toji is a cat dad. the cat looks so fucking tiny next to him that it's a little comical actually. they spend every morning together – the cat twirls around and between his legs as he's grabbing the food, quietly meowing and purring. toji smiles softly to himself at the little thing's neediness. so cute.

the cat also just loves to follow toji around the apartment. always. he goes to the bathroom? the cat goes to the bathroom. he's cooking in the kitchen? the cat is in the kitchen. he's asleep in the bed? the cat is in the bed. (big man toji stomping around the house with the smallest cat in the world running after him.......... guys i'm melting i'm dying)

ok but he was a little weirded out by the cat's need to be in the bathroom with him lmao. like he's taking a piss and he looks over his shoulder only to find the little kitten just staring up at him with big eyes😭😭😭 toji grumbles under his breath and tries to ignore him but then he ends up looking over his shoulder again, hoping that he left but no. he's still there. sitting like :3 😭😭😭😭

"yer fuckin' weird..." is what toji tells him as he places the cat on the bathroom counter and he just gets a cute meow back as a reply. the cat watches him brush his teeth and toji has to fight the thing because he's now in the sink????? toji needs to spit out the toothpaste but the critter is getting comfortable in the bowl and he actually feels bad abt pushing him away... wahh he's so soft actually guys i can't do this anymore.

if the cat happens to be a big meower, toji's definitely talking back to him. he literally goes "what're ya yappin' about, lil man? 🤨🤨" while looking at the tiny creature. but he loves it, he thinks it's so funny. he picks the little guy up and just stares at him up close O.O (plss the cat is literally like the size of his palm i'm dying it's so cute).

he also likes to carry the cat on his shoulder. i think every cat would actually love toji so much, this is also canon here you cannot argue with me. and i think they'd all find him very comforting? and i think they'd love to sleep on him. so whenever he's cooking and the cat paws at his legs, he just picks him up and places him on his shoulder.

he once did that when shiu was over and he was just ????????? like man what are you doing put the damn cat down ????????? and toji just went. "no. he wants to see." with a blank face. to him it's very obvious. c'mon, the cat is so little, he has no idea what's happening up here, ofc he wants to see??????? smh shiu do better😒😒😒

oh and this was definitely just a stray cat he took in btw. after a long day at work, he was just walking home with a cig between his lips when he heard the teeeniest tiniest little meow coming from behind the dumpster in an alley. and well... the curiosity got the best of him and he went to check it out aaand lo and behold!!!!!!! itty bitty kitty!!!!

big eyes peering up at him behind a thrash bag, he just knew he couldn't leave the poor thing there. he reached out his hand, letting the kitty smell him and he almost dropped his cig when he actually leaned into his touch immediately!!!! that's his baby now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he held the cat to his chest as he made his way home and he even stopped by a little corner store to buy him something to eat. the cashier did look at him with a raised brow bc what the fuck this massive man is holding the smallest cat in the world, but toji didn't mind. he didn't care. the cat slept on his back that very same night.

ALSO. thank u @kentophilia for putting this idea in my head ily<33 during the late hours of the day, toji lays in bed while reading his book with his glasses on – the cat stands on his chest with a determined face. he's already purring even though toji hasn't even done anything. he's just soo comforting and the cat just loves him soooo much okay:((((( toji lowers his book to look at the thing before scratching the top of his head and smiling to himself when the cat closes his eyes and purrs even louder.

the cat ends up trying to make biscuits on him and that makes toji yelp lmao. the tiny little claws dig into his warm skin as the he kneads toji like he's a piece of dough. purring and content – toji doesn't have it in him to make him stop either. it's not like it actually hurts, he was just caught off-guard. he didn't get scared by a cat btw, he didn't. in the end, he keeps reading his book with his one hand while petting the creature with the other. this is their routine. they're family!!!!!!!

anyway. he loves his little kitty cat with all his heart and he would literally kill for him:33333

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

-

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

-

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

-

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Waiting Room Problems: @skrzydlak @delicatechaos @ali-r3n @suckerz @cam-peggio @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @emxxblog @lilrubles @dandelionnfluff @babygirl229 @let-love-bleeds-red @kurdtbean

[deqdwinter]

#VENOM!

pairing: dick grayson x chubby afab!reader

word count: 800+

summary: dick comes home from a very long night, after encountering poison ivy, he can’t seem to think straight when all he can smell is you…

warnings: HEAVY SMUT!! sex pollen, dick has a big.. erm well.. dick, BREEDINGGGG, slight degradation, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), dom!dick, sub!reader, dick calls reader a fleshlight (lovingly ;p), dick's lwk a lil' mean in this but it's ok he loves you ;3

authors note: lawddd hold me back this man is bouta make me combust like all over his face SOMEONE HELP ME

“Fuckin’ hell-” Dick groaned lowly as he gripped your hips tighter, pulling your plush body back into his harsh thrusts. 

Nights like this would normally have this outcome. Dick would come home, late at night after a patrol, looking and being frustrated as anyone would be, leaving you to be his relief.

But tonight.. Wasn’t one of those nights. This wasn’t calm, or half assed thrusts into your sopping cunt as you both lay half awake in bed, no. Dick wasn’t frustrated.. He was hungry.

“Dee! S-slow down baby-!” you squealed as your manicured hand reached back, your nails lightly brushing over his toned abdomen. 

He’d been so overcome with lust that he hadn’t even fully discarded his suit, only zipping it down the middle and off his shoulders to leave it pooling at his waist, with his mask still tied around his eyes. The white, chalky glow around his eyes hiding his irises from your view. 

He roughly grabbed your hand into his and intertwined them, a sweet gesture compared to his brutal pace he was keeping up with at the moment. 

“Mine, mine, mine..” you heard him mumble as he leaned down, cooing into your ear as he pounded you from behind, the smacking of your ass against his upper thighs echoing throughout the room. 

He moaned softly at the squelch of your cunt swallowing him, a creamy white ring surrounding the base of his cock every moment he pulled out.

“D-Dick, p-please baby-”

“Gotta breed you baby.. Show all these fuckers that you’re mine and get you pregnant. You’d like that huh? All full with my baby, my cum deep inside this needy lil’ pussy, hm? You want that princess?” You felt him smirk against your skin as he never faltered, his cock reaching so deep inside you–fuck this man would be the end of you.

He may have seemed like a sweet guy, and he definitely was.. Him in bed on the other hand, he was dirty, disgusting, nasty with the way he talked. 

“You’re my lil’ fleshlight aren’t you? Just a wet little hole to stick my dick into, huh? S’all you’re good for?” 

Tears pooled at the bottom of your eyes, your pussy throbbed at his words, no matter how offended you really were from them. 

“S-S’mean Dee..” you cooed before he lifted you up to rest your back on his chest, groping your tits in one hand as the other trailed down your plump stomach and towards your pussy. 

“Mean? I would never, baby. How could you accuse me of such a thing? All I do is treat you so fuckin’ well, don’t I?” Dick mumbled as his fingers started to toy with your clit, his middle finger rubbing the sensitive nub in circles as he continued his brutal pace on your weeping cunt. “F-fuck..” he whined as he pulled away for a moment to look down at where the two of you were connected, his cum from earlier rounds already starting to pool onto the bedsheets and trailing down your thighs. “S’good to me, ya know that? Such a good girl..” Fuck it was starting to become too much for him, but it felt so fucking good..

“G-Gonna come, Dee–fuck!” you whimpered as you fell back into the sheets with your face squished against the pillows, gripping the blanket into your hands tightly. 

“F-fuckin’ come baby, come all over this cock..” He coos through clenched teeth, his nails lightly digging into your plush skin as his thrusts sped up. 

Whiney breaths leave your throat as your climax starts building, before the coil in your tummy finally snaps, your juices gushing around him as he let out a whine and threw his head back. 

“C-Come inside me, Dick–please!” you squeal with your face squished into the pillow to muffle your needy whines as his cock twitched inside you. 

“I know baby, I know–fuckk!” he groaned as you felt him release inside you, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls a creamy white, giving a few shallow thrusts before stilling inside you, pants and heavy breathing leaving both of your lips as you sat in silence. 

Despite your best efforts and hours of him being inside you, he was still.. Unnecessarily hard..

You whine as you try to crawl away from his needy hands before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back to flip you onto your back, a few pieces of his hair stuck to his forehead as he looks down at you with a grin painting his plush lips. Gosh it’s like he was trying to kill you.

“P-please my love, let’s rest.. M’sensitive..” you whimpered as he chuckled lightly before grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing your legs towards your chest.

“Said ya’ wanted to help me..” he cooed as he leant down with his lips ghosting over yours. 

“So, help me..”

[kesujo]

Unabashed Seduction

Tags: mommykink (...the rest of the tags are relatively vanilla, I think)

Warning: 17k words

The night was not turning out how I expected it to go.

I was dressed to kill, freshly washed, put on enough cologne to be noticeable but not too much as to be overbearing, spent probably close to half an hour styling my hair, even properly shaved my pubic hair and sprayed some ball toner for good measure too. I even scouted the bar before coming here; some friends had recommended this place as a great new spot to pick up chicks, but there hasn’t been one I’ve talked to that hasn’t been too wasted to feel good about taking back to my place.

“Sorry babe, I’d love to stay and chat some more but I gotta wake up early tomorrow.”

“Aaw, why?”

The girl I was currently talking to was hot, for sure, but I could pretty much smell the alcohol from her breath. “You make sure you get home safely, alrighty, princess?”

“Why don’t you take me home then?”

Her voice was filled with seductive intent, but I was long past the point of interest. “Sorry, sweetie. How about an Uber instead?”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she continued with her low, sultry tone, but when I didn’t budge, she switched to a whinier tone, “Come on, I’m dying to get fucked.”

I could feel her tits pressing up against my arm, but tempting as they were, there was no way she had the capacity to consent in her current state. “Give me a sec, ok?”

It took a few more minutes to send her on her way back home, leaving me back inside the bar, eyeing the rest of the crowd. There was no shortage of girls, but none of them caught my eye.

Tonight’s not my night, I guess.

Deciding that I better head home before some other drunk-out-of-her-mind chick decides she wants to go home with me and isn’t as good about giving up as the previous one, I downed the rest of my drink. Before I set out to leave, another last-minute scan of the crowd stopped me dead in my tracks when my eyes landed on her.

At first, all my eyes told me about her was that she was a fine piece of ass; the way that spaghetti-strap white dress hugged and accentuated her curves was sublime, the fabric stretching perfectly over her tight, plump ass sitting prettily atop the bar stool that somehow didn’t even seem to crease under her weight. But when she turned to the side to talk to the person next to her, the more than ample amount of cleavage spilling out of the top told me she had curves upstairs too; sure, she wasn’t as big I usually liked them, but the confidence with which she bared them more than made up for that. The side profile or her face told me that it wasn’t just her body that was fire: her lips were full and red, her eyebrows well-manicured and clean, her skin a perfect milky white with thighs that looked as soft as marshmallows, everything even down to her plunging neckline was perfection.

But where have I seen her before?

Before I could fully find the answer to that question, she turned back around, facing away from me to talk to someone on her other side.

Was she famous? She definitely had the looks for it. Or maybe she just had one of those faces that everyone seemed to recognize.

Stumped, I ended up pulling out my phone to take a picture of her to save the query for later. There was no way I would be able to come up with an answer given how buzzed I was at the moment. In that moment, while I was steadying my phone on her, something that I probably shouldn’t have caught on camera happened.

While her left hand was covering the top of her drink, her fingers were slim enough to give way to tiny cracks that allowed for something to be slipped between. She might’ve been secure in thinking that they were small enough to adequately protect her drink, but evidently was mistaken: while she was turned away talking to the gal to her right, the bartender took a quick look around, pulled something out from his pocket, and slipped a small, white tablet into her drink.

What the fuck?!

The tablet dissolved in an instant, the fizzles from the tablet vanishing just as quickly as it was plopped into her beverage.

Seeing that sobered me up pretty quickly. Fortunately, I had the wherewithal to switch to video when I noticed the bartender taking one too many glances at her drink, and recorded the entire ordeal.

Was I seeing things correctly? Were they trying to use a date rape drug on her?

Watching the video over again, now that I was considerably less drunk, the identity of the woman came to me.

Oh shit, that’s Tiffany Young, isn’t it? That K-Pop girl who came to America to release a few English songs or something. They’re trying to pull this shit on a celebrity?

The more I replayed the few-seconds clip, the more certain I became. The amount of secrecy that the bartender employed, how abnormally quick his actions were for an innocent person, even the way the guy on Tiffany’s left seemed to share a knowing glance at the bartender before slipping in the mini-tablet.

However, when I looked up from my phone, to my horror, Tiffany had already placed the glass to her lips and downed the rest of the glass.

Laughter and cheers erupted from the group after she did so, Tiffany smiling along with them.

Maybe I saw seeing things incorrectly. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

The quick glance and smirk the bartender and the guy shared was all it took for me to stand up.

Now that I thought about it, all the guys who recommended me this place weren’t really ones to go to clubs much themselves. I had decided to overlook the rumors of this place’s reputation, of drunk girls often getting taken advantage of, in favor of listening to the recommendations of my friends, but having witnessed it with my own eyes, I now had no doubt those rumors were true. Which meant, if even the bartender was in on it, then calling for security was a gamble that I couldn’t afford to risk.

“Excuse me.”

I could barely hear myself over the overbearing music, and given how far I was from them, it was no wonder none of them reacted to me. From her actions to the way she was slightly slurring her words, I could tell she was already pretty drunk.

If she’s that drunk, then it probably won’t take long for those drugs to kick in.

My walk turned into a brisk pace, pushing and maneuvering through the crowd as I watched another shot disappearing down her gullet.

“Excuse me!”

This time, both my distance and volume were enough to get the attention of all four parties.

The guy sitting next to Tiffany was the one who responded first. “What’s up, dude?”

“What’s up is that you’re trying to fucking slip date rape drugs into this woman’s drinks, bitch.”

He stood up and, in an instant, was right in front of me, bumping his puffed-out chest against mine. Although he stood an inch or two above me, I stood my ground, unphased. “What did you say to me?”

“Exthuse me, wha…?”

“You heard me. Are you really so pathetic that you need to rely on drugs to get laid?”

He raised his arm with a balled fist, but I kept my eyes on him, unflinching. “You just jealous I get to talk to the hottest chick in the club? You trying to play white knight in a pathetic attempt to get into her pants?

“Ex—Excuse me!” The two of us stopped, our attention turning towards the slightly red-faced celebrity. “What did you thay--say? A … date wape—… dddate ww—rrrappe ddrrug?”

I nodded. “I have—”

“Come on Tiffany, are you really going to believe this desperate loser over me?”

“—as I was saying, I have video—”

“You’ve been talking to me all night—” Her eyes flickered back and forth between me and him, and I could tell that he was making good ground in convincing her otherwise. I needed to do something before I let these guys get away with it. “—and you’re suddenly going to trust this random guy who shows up? You’ve been fine so far, haven’t you?”

“Well … yeah, I hhavenn’t—” I shoved the screen with the playing video in front of her without another word. “—what’re—…” she quieted down as her eyes focused on the smartphone in my hands.

Very quickly, I could start to see the panic in the guy’s eyes. “What are you doing, showing her—” the guy swiped at my phone, causing it to fly out of my hands and over the bar counter.

“You saw enough though, right?”

The look she gave the guy was all the answer I need.

“What did—” from how much less she was slurring her words, I became hopeful it was a sign of sobering up after reaching the important part of the video, “—are you in on this with the bb—bartender?”

“What? The bar—no! What are you talking about?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his stammering. “If you weren’t, then you wouldn’t have smacked my phone out of my hand, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s a load of bullshit, I just knocked the phone out of your hand because—” a pause, a nervous twitch of his eyes and a quick sideways glance at the bartender, who I could tell was very deliberately staying away from this side of the bar considering how closely he was hovering around it not minutes before, before continuing, “—for all I know, you could’ve been showing her some doctored video, or some inappropriate stuff.”

“Right, and you expect Tiffany to believe that?”

The two of us turned to her, who at this point was trying to get the attention of the bartender. “Exthuse--Excuse me, bartender!” Her sharp, loud voice cut through the blaring music like a hot knife through butter, but even then, he barely moved. “Excuse me!” The volume of her voice rose, but still the bartender didn’t budge. She leaned over, the woman on her right having evidently slipped away without my noticing. “Excuse me!”

This time, Tiffany’s voice drew even the attention of the other patrons of the club, who started to glance over. Probably realizing he couldn’t play dumb anymore, he walked over. “Yes, how may I help you, miss?”

“There thoud—” she furrowed her brows, slowing down her speaking rate while enunciating her words more carefully, “—shoould be a phhonne oon the grround sommewhherre near yyou, can you ppick it up?”

“A phone?” He angled his head down and did a quick sweep of the enclosed bartending area, just as quickly looking back up with a shrug. “I don’t see a phone.”

“There must be—” her eyes narrowed, and in the corner of my eye, I could see her pressing her legs together, as if tensing, “—there must be, I saw it get knocked over. Can you look again?” He did the sweep with his eyes again, probably about 0.1 seconds slower this time, but Tiffany didn’t let it slide. “No,” she said, the clear frustration on her face worsening the slurring of her speech, “I mean down look—I mean, get down and look.”

“I’m sorry—was it your phone?”

Tiffany shook her head. I quickly glanced at the other guy, whose face was growing redder by the second. I grinned; checkmate, you fucking rapist.

“No, it was this—” again, a slight stutter in her words, and another quick glance at her allowed me to notice the slightly quicker rate at which her chest was heaving, and the fact that it was heaving in the first place, “—this gentleman’s.”

“In that case, no can do.”

“What?”

“I noticed the commotion he was causing earlier, and while it’s not my place to take sides in bar-side squabbles—” yeah right, you were the one who slipped in the drug “—what I can do is think to myself, out loud, that him losing his phone is probably not the worst thing that can happen to a man like him.”

“Are you saying you—are you saying that because you were drink—” Tiffany furrowed her brows in annoyance, her speech speeding up in clear parallel with her frustration but simultaneously causing her to trip over her words more, “—you were the one who slipped that white—white thing into my drink?”

Hearing that sentence, as broken as it was, was probably one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever heard in my entire life. And that was coming from someone who has heard compliments from a porn actress that he fucks better than some of her coworkers.

“…Excuse me, what?”

“I saw the video,” she replied, still treading carefully over her words but still speaking with all the authority of a celebrity, “You slipped something between my fingers, into my drink, while I was looking away. I didn’t get to see the entire video because the phone was knocked onto the ground somewhere near you.” At this point, I could tell even the bartender was starting to have nervous sweats.

“I mean, if you let her watch the whole video, maybe she can have some good context as to what kind of a thing you slipped into her drink, right?”

“I’m—no, I’m sorry miss, it must’ve been a mistake. We’re a professional and well-known establishment—”

“Yeah, you’re certainly well-known alright,” I cut him off, poorly holding off a laugh, “well known for taking advantage of drunk women.”

“Bro, stop daydreaming. This is reality, you have to accept the fact that not every fucking woman in the world wants to sleep with you.”

“Yeah—”

“This white knight bullshit you’re doing is ridiculous, come on Tiffany, let’s—”

The man’s attempt to reach out to grab her wrist failed, Tiffany taking a hasty step back to dodge him, nearly stumbling into a backwards fall. Before I could reach out to catch her, her arm had shot out to the now unoccupied barstool behind her, setting herself back upright.

“No. I’m—” she quickly changed her standing stance, pushing her legs together again; this time, I couldn’t help but notice her face a little redder than before, but even more noticeable were the beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead. Was that the drug starting to kick in? “—I’m—I can’t—” she took another hasty step back, stumbling again. This time, I was ready, my hand shooting out to grab her arm before she could fall onto the ground.

“Let’s get you out of here, first, Tiffany. I’ll call an Uber for you.”

“What do you think—”

“I have that video saved on my cloud. Do anything, follow us, and I’ll send that video straight to the police. Got it?”

The threat caused the pair to freeze in their tracks.

“Tiffany, can you walk?”

She nodded, but a few steps told the completely opposite story. Fortunately, I was prepared to catch her. “Sorry…”

“Not a problem. Let’s go.” I threw her arm around my waist and secured hers with my own arm, pushing through the crowd towards the exit.

We barely made it a few steps before Tiffany pulled at my shirt. “Wait—…”

“Damian.”

“—Damian.”

This time, when I looked at her, I could tell her condition had worsened even more; she was panting pretty heavily now, her forehead almost glistening with sweat, her face beet-red and her legs pressed firmly together. So that’s why it was so hard to walk; why was she so adamant about doing that? Was the drug creating some type of pain there?

“What’s wrong? Do I need to call 911?”

She shook her head. “Let’s sit down for a second.”

I acquiesced against my better judgement, finding a vacated table as far away from the crowd as I could find. As soon as we reached it, Tiffany all but collapsed onto the leather-padded booth seats, pulling me into the seat right next to her. “How are you feeling? Do I need to call anyone?”

“With what phone?”

Shit, that’s right. My phone.

“Eh, it’s not the first time I’ve lost my phone. I can just get another one.”

For some reason, that seemed to pique her interest. “What? ‘First time’?”

I thought back to that incident, where I found out the morning after one of the wilder nights of sex I’ve ever had that she was crazier out of bed than in it. “Never mind that, what’s wrong?”

She turned towards me, a look that was all-too-familiar look on her face. “Me.” She uncrossed her legs, probably the first time she willingly parted her legs ever since the drugs seemed to kick in, slinging an arm across my torso while her leg did the same across my lap. In barely a second, the dark-haired woman was straddling my lap, her arms looped around my neck, and an intense gaze bearing down on me. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“What?”

My attempts at trying to establish eye contact with her failed, her eyes instead electing to stare directly at my lips. I could slowly feel her pressing herself more firmly against my slowly-growing erection. “I feel like … I need you. Now.”

Oh, fuck.

That desperate lust in her eyes, the way she was starting to grind against my hardening member, the fullness of her lips and the redness of her face and the neckline of her spaghetti-strap top slowly being pushed down and revealing more of her cleavage, it was all getting too overwhelming.

She’s drunk. I need to stop this.

“Tiffany—”

“Just a little bit.”

I took a deep breath, reigning in my raging hormones, everything in my body that was yelling at me to go! “No.”

“Please?”

Calm down.

“You’re drunk—”

“Just a little bit, I promise.”

I was so distracted by trying to gather the strength to push the out-of-control celebrity off my lap that I was almost too late in catching her trying to undo the fly in my pants.

“Stop—Tiffany—”

The burgeoning relief in her face was instantly replaced with a frustration as my hands wrapped firmly around hers, bringing them back to her sides. God, I feel like I could accidentally snap these wrists at any moment. “I need you so bad, please…” she whined, grinding harder against my crotch after another failed attempt at advancing her hand towards it. It might’ve just been my imagination, but I could’ve sworn I could feel her arousal leaking out of her and onto my pants in liquid form. “…it hurts so much…”

Jesus, what the fuck kind of drug did they feed her that got her like this?

“Tiffany, you need to go back to your house—”

“No!” Her legs wrapped more tightly around my waist as I tried to slide her off me, simultaneously pressing those bountiful tits against my chest and planting her face against my collarbone. “I don’t—I can’t, not without—”

I took in another deep breath. Control yourself, Damian. Not only is this woman drunk, but she’s influenced by an evidently pretty strong aphrodisiac. She is doubly in no state to properly consent.

“Let’s find you some sleeping pills, then—”

She shook her head against my neck. “No no no, I don’t need more drugs, I need—I need your cock.”

I could just about feel the skin on my palm breaking with how tightly I was clenching my free hand. “Listen, Tiffany, as much as I would love to, you—”

“Then fuck me.”

“Listen to me.” The words unintentionally came out as a growl, and when I realized that, my face morphed into one of horrified realization. “Sorry, I—” And, just as quickly, my face morphed into that of confusion. Why did she look even more turned on?

“Yeah, punish me daddy, I’ve been—”

“No, stop.” I mustered every last ounce of strength I had to capture both of her arms, settling them at her sides. “Tiffany, I don’t mean to be rude, but please don’t interrupt me.” I didn’t know if my frustration was leaking through or if she was going through with the roleplay she manufactured out of nowhere, but frankly, I didn’t care: I was just thankful she had finally decided to settle down. “You’re drunk. You were fed some drug that’s making you like this. That is two reasons you can’t consent when normally one would suffice. Do you understand?” She didn’t respond, unperturbed, as if the words went in one ear and out the other. I did tell her not to interrupt, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t even shake or nod her head. “Listen, you need to go home and get some sleep. Before something happens to you that can’t be undone.” Again, she didn’t respond, maintaining strong eye contact with a smile on her face. “Do you understand?” No response. Was she really intending to maliciously comply with my request for her to not interrupt me? “Answer me.”

“Hm? What?”

I sighed. The words really went in one ear and out the other, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t expect too much out of someone as obscenely drunk as her. “I said—”

“You talk too much.”

“Don’t inter—”

This time, it wasn’t Tiffany’s words that interrupted me, but her actions: namely, when she leaned forward and, with an amount of accuracy unbefitting a drunk person, promptly silenced me with her lips.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the soft, velvety texture of her plump lips for a second, which were every bit as amazing to kiss as they looked, before pulling away.

“Tiff—”

She manually silenced me again, with such accuracy I was beginning to wonder if she was actually drunk or not. But all I needed to do to answer that question was to taste the alcohol on her lips.

It took a second longer to shake her off again, but she was persistent. “Wait—”

With my hands busy holding her wrists in place, I could do nothing but try to dodge her assault. But, when I realized this scene, of a woman seemingly attempting to sexually assault a man, would only draw more attention, I stopped resisting as much. Tiffany, taking full advantage of the fact, leaned further into the kiss, wasting no time in involving her tongue.

And fuck me if it wasn’t the hottest make out session I’ve ever had, with probably the hottest chick I’ve ever kissed, but the ever-present aftertaste of alcohol ruined any attempt of mine at trying to get into the mood.

When my grip of her wrists vanished, her arms instantly came up, looping around my neck to pull me deeper into the kiss. But despite all the strength she was finally allowed to use, she was still no match for me. “Tiffany, bed.”

Those words were the only ones I could get out before I lost control of her again, but thankfully, she seemed to hear them over the blaring music of the club. “Oh, you’re finally ready?”

I smirked, which apparently was all the answer Tiffany need to climb off me.

And to think I almost retired early to avoid the clingy girls who couldn’t say no, only to end up with one anyway.

“There’s a hotel just down the block.”

Thankfully, this time, Tiffany didn’t protest, obediently following a few steps behind me as we exited the club and into the brisk early-autumn night. Obedient as she was, I could still tell how horny she was by how tightly she clung onto and how she had returned to the strange tight-legged walk, an action that I finally understood the meaning of: she was trying to contain her wetness, something that I confirmed had leaked onto my pants. Thankfully, they were dark enough so as to not be noticeable.

Although the walk was brief, I was thankful we weren’t stopped or even around many other people; the only delay was at the hotel counter, where I briefly considered what type of room I should get before quickly deciding to get the most expensive suite of the hotel. This was Tiffany Young after all, and with what almost happened to her, she probably needed it.

“Thank you for your patronage!”

The lady behind the counter bowed politely, but I could feel her gaze lingering on me as I dragged Tiffany onto the elevator, keycard in hand. I couldn’t blame her; with how heavy Tiffany’s panting has gotten, with how flushed her face had become, with how much she was pressing herself against me, it probably looked like I was the one who fed her that date-rape, aphrodisiac, whatever-it-was drug to her. At least Tiffany noticed too and was thankfully sound-minded enough to quell those suspicions, but even so, I could tell she figured something was off.

The doors to the elevator barely closed before Tiffany was all over me again, lips going straight to my nape while her arms and legs attempted to snake around my body.

“Damn it—” No, I’m pretending like I’m continuing this in the room “—at least wait until we get into the room.”

“Wait?”

“Someone might see.”

Tiffany paused for a second, shooting me a dangerously seductive smile. “Let them watch.”

Oh, fuck. I stopped to take a deep breath, again trying to reign in my raging hormones, stifling the image of Tiffany riding my cock in this elevator while the door opened to reveal a horrified yet turned on audience. This woman is drunk and affected by that bartender’s drugs. I can’t—

Out of the corner of my eyes, a glimpse of her cleavage caught my attention. Before I knew it, my eyes had fallen onto them, completely captivated.

It was only when the elevator dinged that I snapped out of it.

I can’t let myself lose control. Fuck, why is she doing this to me? Why do I feel like I can’t control myself when I’m around her?

“Tiff—” I had to almost lift Tiffany up and carry her out of the elevator with how little regard she gave to the fact that we had stopped ascending, “—Tiffany, we’re here.”

Getting to the suite and unlocking it with the keycard was already a decently hard task when a woman was wrapped around me, but even harder when that woman was Tiffany. Every time she pressed her tits against my arm, every time she planted another kiss on my jaw, every time her hands slid across my abs, I wanted to stop what I was doing, pin her against the door I was struggling with, rip that pretty little dress off her lecherous body and ravish her right then and there—but that wasn’t what I was here for.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I squatted down and picked Tiffany up in one fluid motion, a squeal erupting from the surprised celebrity. “Ooh, what’re you gonna do to me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Thankfully, the walk to the bed was short, so Tiffany didn’t have much more time to respond before I dumped her onto the soft mattress. The light of the half-moon streamed through the huge glass pane in the bedroom, illuminating Tiffany’s figure strewn haphazardly across the white blankets of the bed. In contrast to the beautiful sight was her beet-red face, the sizable mounds on her chest heaving hard enough to be noticeable, her hands already having disappeared under the bottom half of her dress that was barely clinging onto her well-shaped curves. It took me what felt like a full minute to bring my suddenly spiking hormones down to a controllable level.

“Dam-Damian?”

“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom first. I’ll be right back.”

I was going to regret this. Or maybe I wasn’t.

This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fuck such an irresistibly sexy and unforgivingly erotic woman, a globally-known singer, known by many, loved by many, and lusted over by many … when was it ever going to present itself to me?

No. I have to be content, knowing that, at least, I didn’t let Tiffany do anything she might regret.

… But fuck, if only she wasn’t drunk, if only she gave me any reason to believe she could consent, then—

“Wait! –you’re lying!”

—then I would— “What?”

“You didn’t even look like you were in a rush.” Her words were spoken slowly, still somewhat slurred, but I could still very clearly distinguish every syllable that was coming out of her mouth. “Are you trying to ditch me?”

Being able to figure that out means that she’s at least sober enough to use her brain enough to properly consent, right?

It didn’t take a second for me to be disgusted with myself for thinking that. With how obviously drunk she was a second ago, there was no way she was sober enough to properly consent—that aside, listening to her speak was already evidence enough for her lingering drunkenness. “No, I’m not ditching you. I’ll be right there, ok, Tiffany?”

“Don’t lie to me!”

It was so hard to continue resisting the urge to give in. It felt like everything was working against me: how horny Tiffany had made me, the feeling of regret for walking away from such a golden opportunity, picturing what Tiffany looked like naked and imagining what it would be like to fuck her, that escalating voice trying to convince me that it was ok, even Tiffany herself was trying to stop me.

Just keep walking, Damian.

“Don’t look down on me just because I’m a little drunk! Is that what you’re worried about?”

I scoffed, turning around. “Please, I fuck drunk girls all the time.”

Apparently, doing that was the wrong move. “See, you’re lying! It’s so obvious!”

Fuck, why did I have to be such a bad liar?

But the fact that she could tell that I was lying was yet another indication that she’s sober enough to consent, isn’t it?

“No, I—” I let out a frustrated sigh. “—I’m sorry Tiffany, have a good night—”

Before I could sprint off, her brows furrowed and she keeled over in pain.

I barely had time to consider if it was an act before I was already at her side, hand gently patting her back. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts…”

“What? What does?” At least it doesn’t seem like she was acting, with how she hasn’t attacked me yet. “Do you need me to get you some medicine?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then what…?”

“It hurts,” she repeated, and when my eyes followed where her arms were leading to, the realization hit the moment she said the clarifying words, “My pussy. It hurts so bad.”

Was that an actual thing? Did there exist such a drug that made a woman so horny, her pussy would start hurting?

“What are you—” I couldn’t even bring myself to accuse her of lying though. With how much she was sweating and how badly she was groaning—either she was one hell of an actress, or the drugs were really hurting her that badly.

See? Not only is she probably mentally sound enough to consent, but she actually needs you. It would be a disservice, both to myself and to her, to just walk away.

For the first time in my life, I conceded to my lust.

“I’ll help you.”

She turned her head towards me, looking at me weakly. “R-Really?”

I reached down and flung the shirt off my body. I could feel Tiffany’s gaze lasering in on my well-defined abs as I climbed onto the bed, one hand landing on her arm while the other on her stomach. “You better not regret asking for this.”

My hands went between her legs, but before they even reached their destination, I could feel the heat emanating from her privates. Holy shit, that drug is really something else…

“No—ah, fuck…” her protest was cut short when my hand found its target, the tips of my fingers instantly getting soaked upon pressing against her burning sex.

“Look at this, you’re so wet.”

“Damian—ah, ah, fuck!”

Her hands fell to her sides, her legs spreading further apart, her dress hitching up to her hips, bucking desperately into my fingers as they played with her soaking wet folds. Her eyes fluttered shut, her back arching slightly off the soft mattress, lips parted and head thrown back.

“It must’ve been hard, hiding all of this—” I withdrew my hand, showing Tiffany, whose eyes opened back up as soon as my hands left her, her slick clinging onto my digits, “—huh?”

“Please, Damian. It hurts…”

“It hurts?”

She nodded, her next sentence cut short with another shrill moan as I pushed three digits deep into her sex.

“Fuck, oh my—oh, oh, fuck—”

Her eyes slammed shut again as I pumped the three fingers inside her, curling them against her fleshy, sticky walls. “Does it still hurt?”

The only response Tiffany could give was the string of moans tumbling out of her mouth, squirming and legs tensing at the feeling of my fingers rubbing the fleshy interior of her vagina. The thumb, having nothing else to do, brushed over her labia, activating more of the nerves on the sensitive part of her nethers.

Tiffany communicated her pleasure well, but I could tell she wanted more. Her sighs and moans seemed to be coming out of her mouth in place of words she wanted to say, her hands were lightly placed at her stomach as if unsure if she should pull me further in or push me out, her eyes looked on at me with lust but also with the same desperation that initially drew me in.

“Dam—Damian, I can’t, I need—” she threw her head back again, letting out something between a squeal and a moan as my fingers curled inside her love canal.

Ah, so that’s her G-spot, huh?

“Oh fuck, right there—” she let loose another loud moan as I again curled my fingers into that spot inside her. That one action caused the idol to completely forget about the request she was about to make, her legs subconsciously spreading further as I continued to rub the sensitive spot inside her.

“What did you need?”

“More—fuck Damian, right there, yes!”

“You like that? When I put pressure right there?”

Tiffany’s only response was to scream out in pure ecstasy. I couldn’t help but grin at that, drinking in the delectable sight of Tiffany squirming on the bed, dress hanging onto her body for dear life, long eyelashes shut, full, red lips parted, every bit of her curvaceous body twisting and turning at my every move. Maybe this night wasn’t going as badly as I initially thought it was.

“Yes! More, please, more!”

To add onto the beautiful sight before me was the equally beautiful sound of her begging, her persistent moans, joined only by the occasional squeaking and shaking of the bed. I wondered if we were disturbing any of our neighbors who almost definitely were already asleep, but quickly realized I didn’t care in the slightest.

“I wonder how many times I must’ve saved the world in my previous life to get the chance to do this to such a beauty like you.”

It felt like barely any time had passed, but I could already feel the pussy of the Korean-American celebrity start tightening around my fingers, hear the increasingly erratic panting and moaning from her lips, the wild ferocity with which her legs thrashed and her toes curled: all the telltale signs of an impending orgasm. And while I would’ve loved to claim it was my immaculate skills with my fingers, nothing else but the interference of the drug could reasonably explain her state of near-climax so soon after I started.

“Oh fuck, I didn’t know fingers could feel so good inside me…”

Her voice was breathless, her forehead glistening with sweat, but this time, instead of a visage of pained frustration that she wore while in the club, her face was now etched with that of pure ecstasy.

“I’m close, a little more, please…”

The words came out almost as a breathless whisper, a final plead for release, the strain in her voice, and the lust pouring out from every square inch of Tiffany’s delectable body; seeing a woman squirm and twist as she succumbed to her orgasm was one of the reasons I became so practiced at using my fingers, but with Tiffany, that feeling turned up to eleven. I didn’t want to just see her cum, I wanted to see her completely lose herself. I wanted to see her become a mess, I wanted her to forget her own name as she squirted all over me, the bed, everything.

That was exactly why, in the final moments before her climax, I shoved my face between her legs, exposing her clit with my thumb, surrounded the sensitive nub with my lips, and gave it a firm suck.

The suite erupted with Tiffany’s ecstatic screams, a translucent jet of her ejaculate hitting me square in the jaw. I recovered quickly, lifting my head out from between her legs while letting her ride my fingers as the singer unleashed a beautiful melody of ecstasy and pleasure. I sat there and watched the beautifully erotic sight before me, of her voluptuous body violently shaking and her head pushed as far back into the pillow as it could go and her legs tensing and vibrating as jet after jet of her cum sprayed past my fingers and onto my arms and stomach.

After she pushed past that peak, her screams and moans turned into sighs and whimpers, the last bits of her cum dribbling out of her womanhood like a leaky faucet.

“Look at you, the famous Tiffany Young, well-renowned global superstar, reduced to a sexy mess. What millions of people wouldn’t give to see you squirting so hard, I wonder.” Her eyes landed on the shirt I was wearing, now shining from being drenched with her fluids. “Looks like you owe me two now: one, for that orgasm, and two, for this shirt.”

It took Tiffany a few seconds to recover, a slight shudder running up her body as I extracted my fingers from her soaking wet heat, but when she did, her demeanor changed on a dime. “I’m so sorry,” she answered with a noticeable pout on her lips, shifting into a sitting position and then into a crawl, facing me. “Let me pay you back for that, baby.”

What is going on?

Very clearly, Tiffany’s desperation vanished—or at least, simmered down—but her confident, very intentionally seductive gaze, her low crawl that gave me an eyeful of her ample cleavage and hints at her light-brown areola, her every movement and action oozed of a sex appeal that my erection roared back to life in response to.

“Poor baby, working so hard for mommy’s sake.” Ok, that was something I was … surprisingly fine with?

Fuck, why does this woman fuck with my head so much?

“Does my baby want a reward?”

“I’m—” it had to be my unfamiliarity with this territory, or maybe a better word was discomfort, that gave me a moment of hesitation. “—um, yes, please.”

“Yes please, what?”

I knew where this was going, but resisting seemed meaningless. Rather, resisting it seemed more painful than trying to change her mind. “Yes please, mommy.”

The word felt incredibly foreign on my tongue and was probably noticeable by how awkwardly it tumbled out of my mouth. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to faze Tiffany; whether it was she didn’t mind or because of how clearly lustful she still was, I wasn’t sure of.

“Good boy.”

I watched her from my seated position, legs splayed out towards her while leaning back on my arms that were planted on the slightly tussled blanket of the suite’s bed, as she prowled towards me like a hungry cheetah stalking its prey. Usually, I liked to be the cheetah, but with Tiffany, everything felt different. It just felt so natural to play the prey. Hell, I wanted her to hunt me down.

Wait.

I caught myself with that thought.

What the fuck? Why did I just think that?

It felt so incomprehensible to me, the supernatural phenomenon that was Tiffany’s sex appeal. The lustful gaze in her eyes, the seductive way she carried her sinfully sultry figure, the confidence in her husky voice, the sheer desire and aphrodisia in her every movement, her full, red lips, her large and striking eyes, her ample bust peeking through the ruffled top of her dress, the soft curves of her hips and the wider curve of her romp—was it one of these things, or a combination of all of them? Submitting went against everything I thought I knew about myself, but perhaps the more frightening thing was that I welcomed it.

She stopped while hovering a few inches above me, her eyes directed straight down at my crotch. So, it felt pretty fair to stare slightly down and forward, right into the more-than-eyeful of tits that her tousled top bared to me. I could very easily tell that she was probably a B-cup, but they were somehow infinitely more enchanting than the C-cups and D-cups I was used to.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe B-cups were great too. Or, maybe it was just Tiffany—maybe it was simply the fact that they were hers that drew my eyes towards them.

“Damian, baby, help me with this?”

I snapped out of the trance I was in, my eyes falling further down and falling on Tiffany, struggling with my belt.

“Sure thing.”

Her brows furrowed, her lips pulling into a pointed frown. “You mean, ‘yes, mommy’.”

“Um—” The reminder of my unfamiliarity with this type of roleplay hit me again, but the thought that this would only be a concern for tonight put my mind a little bit more at ease. “—yes, mommy.”

Shortly after my belt flew off, so too did my pants and boxers, leaving my hardened cock pointed straight at the ceiling of the luxurious hotel room. “Aww, poor baby, were you holding this in the entire time?”

I couldn’t get over the motherly sympathetic tone she was employing nor the slight pout on her lips, nor the strangest thing: how much it turned me on.

What the fuck? Am I secretly a sub?

“Um—” I stuttered, my mind slowly trying to piece together the ‘appropriate’ things to say in our current roleplay, “—y-yes, it hurts so much mommy.” Just saying those words, completely undirected, was so cringe-inducing that I nearly physically reacted to them, but seeing the reward in Tiffany’s face lighting up in reaction to them blew that embarrassment away.

“Does my baby want mommy to give the booboo a kiss?”

I nodded. “Please, mommy, it hurts so much.”

The words weren’t entirely false either; my penis was already pretty stiff from seeing Tiffany cum like that, but experiencing the reality-defying whirlwind of Tiffany’s lustful demeanor stiffened my dick even more, to the point of pain.

“Of course, sweetie.” She hardly waited for my nod in response before lowering her head to my crotch, holding her hair with her left hand while the other rested on my thigh to stabilize herself. My breath hitched as she stopped centimeters from my erect cock, the hot air puffing out from her lips hitting my hardened shaft. “Oh my, my baby has grown really big, hasn’t he?”

I grimaced, my legs tensing as her velvety lips brushed the sensitive tip of my dick. Instantly, a sliver of precum trickled out in response; and, just as quickly, Tiffany’s lips parted, her tongue darting out to collect the fluid. “We can’t be wasting any of that, can we?”

The smile she shot at me following, her lips pulled into an upward curve and her eyes disappearing into crescent moons curved the opposite direction, made me completely forget who I was or what I was doing for a second.

“You have such a beautiful smile.”

It took a few seconds to realize the words had come out of my mouth, but when I did, the realization came too late.

Shit, I forgot again.

I opened my mouth to correct myself, but Tiffany beat me to it. “You’re such a sweetie, Damian. Let mommy give you a reward.” Her left hand left the back of her head, her silky jet-black hair subsequently tumbling down the sides of her head, the fingers of her right hand gingerly wrapping themselves around the circumference of my cock. I let out a hiss as her slim digits enclosed it in a tight embrace, her soft palms caressing its length. And while the feeling of her fingers tightening around my dick was pleasurable in and of itself, the visual made it all the sexier: her strikingly flawless face centimeters away from the object of her adoration, her piercing eyes magnetized to it, her beautiful fingers pressed firmly against the now fully erect penis, her lips slowly parting and the gorgeous sheen of hair framing her face as she began to pump it.

“Fu—” This time, I was able to catch myself before I let loose the swear that was building up inside my throat. “—mommy, that feels so good.”

“I’m glad. Do you mind helping me hold my hair, baby?” I happily obliged, reaching around her to collect the amazingly soft curtain of black surrounding her face and pulling it into a ponytail behind her. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, mommy.”

I barely noticed how fluidly the words came out of my mouth until after Tiffany resumed her handjob. But I didn’t have anything to worry about, it was just Tiffany that was making me like this. The pleasure and satisfaction I felt being the more dominant and controlling one with all the other women I’ve fucked was very real. I wasn’t a closet-sub, it was just Tiffany that was fucking with my head.

Right?

“My baby boy really has grown so big, mommy is very proud of you~”

“Thank you, mommy.”

My fists were clenched and my voice came out strained. The handjob she was giving me, in combination with the lascivious visual of her beautiful face placed so close to my dick and the amount of her tits that became visible from the low-cut of her dress hanging down from her position hovering over me, caused something that should’ve been just foreplay to bring me closer to the edge than I would’ve ever expected a simple handjob to be capable of.

“Did you enjoy mommy’s milk from before?”

“Milk?” My eyes again landed on her tits, her already-erect nipples all but visible with the angle she was at. “Oh!” She meant her cum, not from her boobs. It was a shame, too, because almost since I first laid my eyes on her and that more-than-ample cleavage, I was wondering what those puppies would feel like in my hands. And my mouth. “Yes, I did, mommy.”

The knowing grin Tiffany shot in return told me that she was privy to how much I was lusting after her milk jugs, replying, “Do you want more of mommy’s milkies?”

I nodded fervently. “Yes, please.” My haste stemming from impatience resulted in my blowing over my established role, something that didn’t by well with Tiffany. Her eyes furrowing was the catalyst for remembering, leading me to add, “—mommy.”

Her lips curled back up into a content smile. “Then, you’ll have to pay mommy back by giving her your milk too, ok?”

I nodded with equal fervor. “I’ll try my best, mommy.”

She shot me another heart-stopping eye smile. “Good boy.” Her hands left his penis and down to the hem of her dress, tugging at the spaghetti-strap top to no avail. Her smile turned into a frown, becoming more pronounced with each unsuccessful tug of her dress.

Damn it, she’s too drunk after all?

The sobering thought faded to the background when Tiffany decided to change tactics, her hands traveling up her body, her fingers looping around the top of her dress and pulling it down. Her boobs popped out, the bounce from the release of tension after being freed. I felt my eyes glazing over, gaze stopping at the plump, marshmallow-y mounds of flesh sitting on her chest, adorned with light-chocolate colored areola and darker, swollen nipples sitting atop the peaks.

Actually, you know what, B-cups are just as amazing as C-cups or D-cups. I’ve definitely been too picky in the past.

“Damian, help?”

There was something about the cute sight of her pouty visage contrasting with the erotic sight of her bare breasts sitting a few inches below those pouting lips that stirred something within me. The usage of cuteness in bed was something that always turned me off—women who employed it on me in the past have led me to stop everything on more than one occasion—but with Tiffany, it only turned me on more. At this point, I had grown tired of asking myself why this was happening. It was much easier to just accept it and let myself feel my arousal deepen one level still.

What I was shocked by was how long it had taken me to realize Tiffany needed help with her dress, and how I hadn’t offered to help already. “How rude of me—” Shit, that’s not how I’m supposed to be speaking. “—I mean, of course, mommy.”

I had been so distracted by her tits that I had completely disregarded her struggling, disregarded basic bedside manners, in favor of staring at her boobs. But honestly, I felt like I couldn’t even be blamed; even if they were on the smaller side, they were somehow just as sexy, if not more so. The fullness of its shape, the tautness of the skin, the plush appearance of its texture, the purity of its snowy-white color, the contrasting almond-colored areola and the even more contrastingly darker-brown teats standing up and away proudly from her body, how squeezable and bitable the enlarged buttons looked—remembering the roleplay Tiffany had casted us in was the only thing preventing me from jumping on her and ravishing them.

When the dress came off her body, I couldn’t help but find myself enamored with her legs next; they were on the slim side but had clear hints of muscles in her upper thighs, sloping upwards gracefully for what seemed like miles before curving out at her hips. The skin was just as unblemished, taut, and a perfect shade of pearly-white as the rest of her body, with slight hints of bruising on her knees that made my imagination go wild as their origins. Her legs were just as pleasant to touch as they were to look at; as my hands ran over her shins, up to her knees, and up to her thighs, I relished in the addictingly soft texture of her skin. “Your—mommy’s legs are so pretty.”

“Thank you, baby, but if you want mommy’s help, then you’ll have to be patient for a little bit longer.” I nodded, pushing myself back into a sitting position on the bed as Tiffany shifted into a kneeling position, tucking her legs under her thighs. “Come here,” she said, gently patting her lap. I obeyed immediately, turning around and resting my head on her soft thighs, face-up, with the rest of my body splayed out away from her, my legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

Part of me still felt weird obeying the commands of this mysteriously powerful woman, like some kind of needy puppy, but the bigger part of me didn’t care about dignity, shame, what I thought I knew of my own identity, any of it. Was it truly some kind of magnetic power she had, that drew in an dominated the will of any man she wanted, or was I just too lost in my own lust? Or, was there even a difference?

My obedience was rewarded when Tiffany, after seeing that I was sufficiently settled in her lap, leaned down and over me, presenting the object of my desire just moments ago inches away from my face. I craned my head up but was stopped by the woman whose lap my head was laying upon. “Before milkies, promise mommy that Damian will say when his milk is about to come out. Ok?”

“Yes, mommy,” I replied, nodding eagerly to her proposition.

“Good boy. Here you—ah!” Something between a moan and a squeal interrupted her as I took the erect nub into my mouth and rolled my tongue over it. My hands came around, all but sinking into the plush texture of her tits.

Fuck, they’re so soft…

I became so preoccupied with her boobs that I barely noticed Tiffany’s hands snaking down my torso, only aware of the fact when it stopped at the stubbles of my freshly shaven privates. Without warning, the dainty digits of her hand wrapped around my dick, the resulting surge of pleasure causing me to accidentally squeeze her boobs with an unintended amount of extra force.

“Do you like mommy’s boobs?”

I nodded, each pump of her hand sending a surge of pleasure throughout my body, my toes curling in response and my brain slowly but surely filtering out everything else but the feeling of her tits on my lips and hands and the feeling of her hand on my cock. It didn’t take long for her to pick up where she left off with, inching ever closer to the edge of the peak of the climax her hands were pushing me towards. Where her boobs lacked in surface area, she made up for in the quality of the skin and the softness of the mounds of fat. They gave way so easily to my hands and to my lips, but to also hear the slight moans and sighs that would escape from Tiffany’s lips as my tongue drew circles around her areola and rolled across her nipples and my teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin and the swollen teat.

The main source of my impending orgasm, as delectable her tits were, was her hand; they were tireless, barely stopping to rest, her hand pumping the shaft about twice the width of her hand while the other gently patted my head, as if comforting a nursing baby. Occasionally, she would stop to rest by readjusting her grip at the base and cupping my balls before resuming.

“These feel so heavy. Did you save it all up just for mommy?” I nodded again, hoping she didn’t need audial confirmation. Thankfully, she didn’t, resuming shortly after with a, “That makes mommy really happy. Don’t worry, baby, mommy will make sure to take in all of Damian’s hard work and patience.”

It wasn’t much longer after that when I notified Tiffany of my impending orgasm. To my dismay, Tiffany lifted her upper torso up, scooting to edge of the bed that my legs were dangling off of.

“Make sure to give it all to mommy, ok?” I nodded, fighting back the urge to push her head that was already closing in on my dick the rest of the way. “We don’t want to waste any of it, do we?”

“No, mommy.”

“Good boy.”

The moment my cock pierced her lips and sunk into her hot, tight mouth, I just about lost it right then and there. “Agh—” an incoherent mumble-moan escaped my lips, my fingers and toes curling even more than they were already. Inch by inch, the soft membrane of her lips advanced downwards along my shaft. Inch by inch, more of my penis entered the moist cavern of her mouth, and inch by inch, her tongue lined the surface area of my dick with her saliva. “Fuck—” Shit, forgot, no swearing— “—mommy, it feels so good…”

She tiled her head up, eyes shooting a quick smile at me. She barely got halfway down before she came back up for air, her right hand taking over in slathering the rest of the length with her saliva. “Naughty boy, no swearing. I’m afraid mommy will have to punish you later.”

“I’m sorry, mommy…”

In my peripheral vision, I could see her left hand reaching downwards, buried under her legs. However, visual confirmation wasn’t even necessary to know she was fingering herself; the wet sounds of her fingers pressing and pushing against her sex were evidence enough. And while I liked to think that it was the prospect of giving my dick a blowjob that brought her to such a state, the more realistic explanation was that the drug was still affecting her; after all, her face had taken upon a red hue again. However, the difference was that this time, she didn’t have a desperation on her face; this time, it was a deepened state of arousal.

Tiffany dribbled some more saliva onto my cock, proceeding to rub the slightly viscous fluid along the shaft while her red, succulent lips planted kisses along my length. After a while, satisfied with the amount of lubricant on my dick, her right hand reaching down to cup my balls while her tongue pressed against the long-side of my cock, starting from the base and sliding upwards and ending with a smooch at the tip. There was something immensely arousing about seeing her beautiful face in such close proximity to my dick that seemed to almost make her already small face even smaller and seeing the shimmering length of my cock occasionally accidentally tapping her slim jawline that created an impatience inside me. But it was her next words that transformed that impatience to something else. “It feels so big in my mouth, I wonder how I’ll fit this in my pussy…”

The words seemed to be her inner thoughts accidentally spoken out loud, or maybe a mumble that was spoken a notch too loud. Still, no matter how many times I had been told something similar, no matter how many other women had complimented my dick, hearing the words from Tiffany’s lips felt different. I could feel my chest swelling with pride and my lips stretching out into a satisfied smile—sure, it wasn’t the biggest one out there, but in that moment, it certainly felt that way.

Tiffany repeated the action a few more times before transitioning the smooch at the tip to deepthroating.

“Agh—” I stopped myself before I let out another swear, the suddenness of the action nearly causing me to peak right then and there. In one fell swoop, nearly three-quarters of my dick disappeared into her mouth, leaving me desperately clutching onto the thread that kept me from my orgasm. “Mommy—” words became difficult to form, my mind quickly being filled with nothing but the pleasure from the tight ring of her throat pressing against the circumference of my dick in coordination with the masterful work of her tongue dancing around it.

I wanted to revel in the sensation more. I wanted to continue feeling the immeasurably intense pleasure from feeling her lips now tightly pressed against the base of my shaft, from the tightness of her throat, from the wetness and warmth of her masterful tongue, but every passing second unraveled that thread line by line. When she started moving, her head bobbing up and down and her tongue gliding along the length of my shaft, gagging sounds filling the suite and tears cascading down her tightly closed eyes joined only by the increasingly louder moist sounds of her fingers against her slick, the thread I was so desperately clutching suddenly caught fire.

“—mommy—” The words were stuck in my throat, my mind too preoccupied with the Herculean task of holding back my orgasm to be able to form words properly. “—coming!”

The release of the buildup of tension inside my nethers, the release of the burden on my mind in trying to hold back—while both were cathartic, nothing felt better than the explosive release deep in her mouth, the powerful jet of my seed hitting the back of her throat like a water hose. Her cheeks bulged even more, a sound between a gag and a cough erupting from her throat, rapidly blinking away the tears in her eyes as stream after stream poured into her mouth, but not once did she let up. Her lips remained tightly sealed around my cock, her throat flexing impressively as it took on the assault.

When it ended, Tiffany pulled away, her left hand emerged from down south so that the backs of both hands could be used to wipe away the tears that had been collecting in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, mommy…”

Her eyes blinked open. “What’s wrong?”

“I made mommy cry…”

I had to admit, Tiffany’s acting ability was top-notch. I was pretty good at acting myself, but the motherly concern that overtook her face in the face of my downtrodden, sorrowful expression made me almost believe it was sincere. “No! Aw baby,” she cooed, joining me on the bed and directing my head onto her bosom, “Those weren’t sad tears, those were happy tears! You really are spoiling your mommy so much, giving mommy so much of your tasty milk.”

“R-Really?”

She met my gaze with a happy nod. “Yes! But are you sure you gave mommy everything?”

I nodded. “I really tried my best, mommy.”

She separated herself from me, getting back on her knees at the edge of the bed. “Let’s see if Damian is telling the truth or not~” She slotted herself between my legs once again, and, with one boob in each hand, settled them on either side of my cock.

Even though I could feel the post-orgasm fatigue start to hit, seeing her surround my dick with her ample bust gave me a bit of concern. They weren’t large enough to smother the entirety of my size, but that didn’t stop the last two strands of cum to spill out onto her tits after squeezing them firmly against my cock with her hands, starting at the base and working her way out in a milking fashion.

“Oh, would you look at that.”

“I-I’m sorry, mommy!” The panic in my own voice caught me by surprise. Why was I so immersed in the roleplay? “I-I didn’t mean to! I’ll do better next time!”

Instead of reprimanding me, Tiffany looked up at me with a soft smile, scooping up the viscous bodily fluid and directing it into her mouth. Her luscious, red lips closed around her slim digits, disappearing into that dark cavern only to slide straight back out with a nearly audible pop! “It’s ok baby, as long as you keep your promise next time,” she said, her fingers running over the top of her bust again, making sure to direct every last droplet of my seed into her mouth.

I nodded eagerly. “I will!”

Tiffany smiled, licking her lips with an equal amount of eagerness and content. “Even though it wasn’t everything, it was a lot: feeling Damian’s thick, creamy load filling up my mouth and going down my throat was very nice. Thank you for the treat, baby.”

“It was only because mommy’s soft, pretty lips felt really good.”

“Oh, really?” I nodded. “Do you really like mommy’s soft, pretty lips?” I nodded again, letting her direct me back onto the bed, shifting so that I was properly aligned with it, my head all but sinking into the pillow of the luxurious suite. “Do you want more of mommy’s soft, pretty lips?”

“Can I?”

A giggle escaped from Tiffany, probably from the eagerness in my voice and the starstruck attitude I injected into it. Although, while I could definitively say I was acting, it was also true that my real feelings weren’t far from the character I was portraying. “Of course,” she replied, swinging her legs to the other side of my waist so that they were straddling it, hovering a few inches above me with hands flanking both sides of my head on the pillow. “Come here, baby.”

I didn’t know how it was possible, but her lips felt even better than how they looked or imagined. Impossibly soft, just the right amount of sweet, warm, slightly moist—even other things, like the heat from her face, the creamy texture of her palms caressing the sides of my head, her eyelashes brushing against my closed eyelids, the subtle curves of her voluptuous body pressing against mine, my mind had only the capacity to think and process Tiffany. The stillness of the room only interrupted by the sounds of our lips sensually pressing against and massaging each other, the subtle perfume she was wearing that had mixed slightly with a lingering scent of alcohol, the softness of not only her lips but her entire body firmly wrapped up and tangled in mine, the deep pants for air when she briefly disconnected our lips and the hot puffs of breath that tickled my face, the somehow simultaneously sweet yet seductive smile she shot at me before reconnecting our lips … if someone had asked me my own name in that moment, I probably wouldn’t have been able to answer.

It was after Tiffany’s second breath for air that she prodded my lips with her tongue, a request I readily complied with. While the kiss had already been getting hot and heavy, the action caused an instantaneous spike in its heatedness.

“Mmm…”

The beautiful noise emanating from Tiffany’s throat echoed in the hotel suite, tilting her head and leaning in, her velvety lips massaging mine, her tongue running against mine and brushing against my lips. We kissed—or rather, attempted to devour the other’s lips—with a wild abandon and desperate passion that might make one think our lives depended on it. In that moment, however, that was all that mattered: her curvaceous body shifting and squirming against mine, her lips pressing and moving in concert with mine, her tongue dancing expertly in perfect synchronization with mine. Everything else in the world fell away, even the bed beneath us.

When Tiffany next came up for breath, I could also see the wildness apparent in her actions in her eyes as well. However, it quickly was replaced with a laughter. “Oops, I accidentally gave you some of my lipstick.”

“I don’t mind.”

In the moment, I had become so preoccupied with Tiffany’s lips that I wasn’t aware how hard I had become until Tiffany herself pointed it out. “You’re hard again.”

“So I am.”

“Does baby want another kiss down there?”

She was the one who was asking, but I could tell she was all but ready to do the deed. After all, she had already shifted herself such that my dick was pointed straight at the entrance of her burning core. And, while normally, I might’ve teased the woman who was sharing the bed with me and made her beg, this was Tiffany. Even if the make-out session seemed to also make her forget about the roleplay we were doing for a few seconds, obeying her every command could only be described as second nature. I wanted—I needed—to appease her, to please her, even at the cost of my dignity and pride. “Can mommy do that?”

“Of course!”

“Even though mommy’s lips are up here?”

Tiffany smiled in response. The following question was one that I have been waiting for ever since I decided to play along; but, as eager as I was, I could tell Tiffany was doubly eager for it. “Do you want mommy to show you?”

“Yes!”

No matter how obvious it was that Tiffany was holding herself back, as I could surmise from the loud gasp that escaped her lips when, while her hand directed my penis to her slit, its head poked at it briefly and threatened to enter, she stayed true to her promise and removed it just as quickly. Biting back the grimace and the swear that threatened to fly out of my mouth quickly became the name of the game as her flopping wet vaginal lips pressed against my stiff cock, effectively ‘kissing’ it.

“Agh—”

“Hm? What’s wrong, honey?”

“Mommy…” Edging was a tactic I was very familiar with as I often employed it with the women I fucked, and the results were often amazing. Of course, when I was doing the teasing, I felt the impatience too, but the effort of holding myself back felt worth it in the end. After all, I wasn’t only after the great sex that followed: watching the woman squirm and beg beneath me was just as much of a desired result as the sex itself.

I wondered if these were the thoughts that were going through Tiffany’s head as she continued kissing my dick with her lips down south. “Does it feel good, sweetie?”

I nodded. “Mo-mommy’s lips feel really good…”

I always figured that the person on the receiving side of the edging had it worse, but I didn’t realize the impatience was this much worse. It felt like it was taking every ounce of strength and willpower to not grab her pillowy ass and shove all six-and-a-half inches inside her all at once. However, I could see the impatience on Tiffany’s face too: the same deep shade of red from back when she was trying to force herself onto me in the club overtook her face, her gasps and sighs gradually growing in volume as more and more of my cock became covered with her bodily fluids.

“Oh sweetheart, you feel so big and thick…”

The softness of her thighs that trapped my member, the rolling of her hips that caused her folds, sticky with her own precum, to slide along the length of my shaft, it was all doing wonders for the pleasure and lust that was quickly building with every passing moment. Even the hot puffs of air hitting my face and the pillowy sensation of her boobs pressed against my chest was aiding the process of deepening my arousal; but however much it made me want to slam her against the bed and fuck her into next Tuesday, I resisted. I could see her getting affected too, and it wasn’t before long when her patience, built up from when she first straddled my lap at the bar, finally broke.

“Fuck, mommy needs you so bad Damian…”

“What’s wrong, mommy?”

“Does my Damian want a baby brother or sister?”

Fuck.

Just the implication of the words made my dick twitch. Another rush of anticipation washed over my body, screaming at my muscles to move on the impulse.

Is she implying what I think she’s implying?

“Really?” I could only hope that the spike in my lust and impatience wasn’t present in my voice. “Yeah!”

“Then make sure to cum lots and lots inside mommy, ok?”

She barely gave me any time to respond before grabbing my cock and directing it straight into her pussy.

If it wasn’t abundantly clear how riled up Tiffany was before, the evidence was now screaming in my face—quite literally, in the form of Tiffany’s loud reaction to succumbing to an orgasm from the simple act of inserting barely half of my length inside her.

“Damian’s cock is stretching mommy’s tiny little pussy out so much! Ah, it feels so good, it feels so good!”

The orgasm seemed to only become more intense as it dragged on, the clenching of her vaginal walls against my shaft making it harder to advance. It seemed to suffice for her intents and purposes, riding out her climax with the upper four inches of my cock buried firmly inside her heat, letting loose a string of mewls and loud moans as she did so.

And, watching the spectacle, I couldn’t help but be entirely enraptured. Out of all the women I’ve seen ride out their orgasms on my cock, Tiffany had to be the most arousing, most beautiful woman of them all: even as she screamed, her lips appeared just as full and luscious; even as her face gave in to her lust, it still maintained its mystical beauty; even as her tits jiggled slight in response to her manic bouncing, they looked no less voluminous and perky; even as her legs tensed, the slight muscle definition to her thighs added to their appeal; even as her juices were splattering out of her pussy, the visual of her flopping folds deepened my arousal even more.

“Mom-mommy? Are you ok?” I wasn’t sure how I managed to stay in my ‘role’. Or, maybe, I did know but didn’t want to admit it.

“Sorry, honey,” she replied, her answer coming out as a gasp, her orgasm having finally subsided, “Mommy is fine. What do you think about mommy’s pussy?”

“It—It feels really good, mommy!”

She simply smiled in response, taking a deep breath before pushing the rest of my length inside her. Another slew of moans and sighs exploded from her lips, shuddering in tandem with me as my cock fully hilted her. When she was finally able to calm herself down, she opened her eyes, leaning forward and planting her hands on my chest. “Now’s time for that punishment.”

“Whaat?”

“Be a good boy and accept their punishment, ok? Mommy will give you a reward after.”

“Oh … ok, mommy,” I replied with a reluctantly obedient voice, a pouty voice I probably hadn’t used since I was twelve.

With that, Tiffany shifted her position such that her clit brushed against my groin. The contact alone caused her to gasp, which quickly turned into a moan as she pressed her sensitive nub onto the stubbles of my recently-shaven pubic hair.

“What a good boy, keeping yourself so clean…”

As if the suffocating tightness of her pussy wasn’t enough, as if its blistering heat and the wetness from having been brought to orgasm twice already wasn’t enough, as if the grinding motion she began doing wasn’t enough, the visual of her stimulating her clit by rubbing it against my crotch more than made up for the lack of any stimulation on me. The slight jiggling of her tits as she rocked back and forth, the way her Cupid’s bow lips parted as gasps and moans slipped out of her mouth, the swaying of her silky, jet-black hair in tandem with her movement, the pure and utter ecstasy that deepened with every passing moment etched onto her face … it was all too mesmerizing to notice the passage of time until her hands brushed up against mine, which were lazily laying on her legs.

“Do you mind helping mommy a little?”

The question snapped me back to reality. “Um, of—of course, mommy!”

She slowed down slightly, directing my hands to her bosom. “Damian said he really likes mommy’s boobs, right?” I nodded. “Then, here you go,” she said, placing each hand on one of her boobs, “you can play with them however you want.”

The urge to do so was an urge I was holding back the entire time, having only gotten worse after seeing them swaying so much mere inches from my face, but finally being granted permission to do so unlocked a fervor Tiffany was definitely not expecting.

“Thank you, mommy!”

I pressed my index finger and thumb into her areola, the rest of my fingers resting on the pillowy surface of her tits while they rubbed gentle circles around the sensitive skin. The squirming and moaning from Tiffany increased drastically, shifting one hand to the center of my chest while the other dove down south into the tight connection of her labia against the perimeter of my cock. It was the wet sounds of flesh rubbing against flesh that let me know that she was rubbing the widely spread-open pussy lips that were engulfing the base of my cock, something that turned me on even further.

“Damian…”

Somehow having withstood the temptation of pinching those delectable nipples that sat at the peak of her tits, the tauntingly squeezable nubs swaying to and fro inches from my face, instead electing to build up the suspense by continuing to rub and massage the sensitive skin around it.

“Oh, sweetie, your fingers feel so good…”

“Am I doing well?”

She nodded fervently. “Yes, you’re making mommy very happy, but…”

Tiffany interrupted herself with another moan, a sound that had been gradually turning more and more impatient. “Hm?” I replied innocently, as if I didn’t know the exact cause of her suffering.

“…but you’re also being a very naughty boy right now.”

I completely stopped. “What? What am I doing wrong, mommy?”

Tiffany opened her eyes, managing to shoot me a gentle smile. “Do you see mommy’s big, swollen nipples?”

I redirected my eyes to them, nodding. “Is—Is mommy going to punish me again for being naughty?”

“No, but only if you starting paying more attention to those too.”

“Oh. Ok!” Shortly following those words, both sets of index fingers and thumbs surrounded the engorged, light-brown buttons and squeezed them.

“Oh!” The electrified moan that jetted out her lips mirrored the shock that surged through her system in response, her arms and legs suddenly tensing and her eyes fluttering shut. “More!”

Just watching her succumb to pleasure was reward enough, but the feeling of the velvety, swollen nipple giving way to my fingers and just how enjoyable it was to squeeze them added onto that pleasure tenfold. That seemed the catalyst for everything intensifying: the vigor with which she grinded her clit against the stubbles of pubic hair on my groin, the volume and frequency of her moans, even the wet sounds of her fingers playing with her labia and rubbing the base of my cock that her labia was encircled around. Although the lack of stimulation for me might’ve ordinarily softened my penis, the sheer spectacle of the lascivious lady relishing in the ecstasy that was so clearly written on her face and in her body that I found myself getting more aroused with each passing moment.

Making sure to switch between kneading motions, rolling the erect nub in my fingers, and pinching them, it didn’t feel much longer until Tiffany finally announced her climax. “Oh, oh god, sweetheart, mommy’s cumming!”

This time, her orgasm came out in more gradual waves, like a boiling kettle with water leaking out the top. Tiffany’s mouth didn’t stop the entire time, letting out a noise between a moan, a scream, and a pant, riding out her climax vigorously, her entire body shaking as more and more of her sticky fluids washed over my cock, bits and slivers leaking out after coming down from that peak.

“Oh … oh fuck…”

The minute or so I spent watching her reveling in lust and ecstasy only made me harder, but was thankfully experienced enough to not let it control me, letting her take a few breathers with her head hanging over my chest and her hands planted on my abdomen.

In the minute or so it took for the Korean-American celebrity to recover, I simply watched her regain her bearings, shuddering every so often as a bit more of her juices trickled out of our hot connection. From watching her cum for the second time that night, I was certainly rearing to go again, and it definitely didn’t help that the fleshy, tight walls of Tiffany’s vagina was still squeezing my cock like it was trying to milk it. However much I managed to keep my lust in check, I could feel it slipping by the second.

“Wow … you have a really nice body…”

It was an out-of-character statement, or so the tone of her voice suggested, but I wasn’t about to let it slip away without my reward first. “Mommy, was I a good boy?”

Tiffany seamlessly slipped back into the role, smiling and nodding. “Yes, you were. Mommy promised you a reward if you were a good boy, didn’t she?” I nodded, eyes shining with anticipation. “Do you like mommy’s pussy?”

I nodded again. “It’s so tight, but it feels good.”

Tiffany giggled at that. “Anyone would feel this tight with how big my baby boy is.”

“Oh.”

“Would Damian like to feel better?” I let the excitement I bleed onto my lips. “Would Damian like to cum inside mommy’s pussy?”

This time, my excitement translated into a twitch of my dick. Oh fuck. Was she really letting me do that?

After what has basically amounted to soaking inside Tiffany for the better part of five, maybe ten, minutes, I was raring to have a go at fucking this pussy that has been strangling my cock this entire time. But the prospect of being able to cum inside? That was beyond any fantasy I usually allowed myself to have about my prospective woman for the night. “Yes!”

Tiffany smiled again. “Damian has been such a good boy, I think he deserves his reward.” She wasted no time in pleasantries, lifting her ass off my groin. A sharp breath blew past my teeth, the feeling of her moist vaginal walls gliding along my shaft sending a rolling wave of pleasure throughout my body. And, as quickly as she lifted herself off my dick, she slammed back down, the crisp sound of her plump ass slapping against my damp groin blending in with the groans and moans from both Tiffany and me.

“Ah—” she repeated the action, leaning forward a little more to give herself a better angle to ride me, “—you feel so big inside mommy, honey…”

It didn’t take me long to find her rhythm and match her riding motion with upward thrusts; my hands found themselves planted at her hips, my eyes wandering from watching the wanton expression on her face to watching the slight jiggle of her beautiful tits to watching the up-and-down motion of her labia along my dick, unsure which sight was a more sexually appealing spectacle.

“Shit … you feel so good…”

“Damian, language…” Tiffany’s weak protest fell on deaf ears, all our efforts now focused on the other’s reproductive organ.

Having become lost in my pleasure and watching Tiffany revel in hers, or maybe it was Tiffany fucking with my mind, I hadn’t even realized we had passed the limit of Tiffany’s physical capabilities until I began to notice the increased depth and frequency of her chest’s heaving.

But I wasn’t ready to slow down. Not by a long shot. Not when things were finally starting to heat up.

“Jellybean, I—what are you doing?” Tiffany’s arms buckled as my hands, now placed on her shoulders, pulled her body towards me. “Damian, you’re—” I didn’t listen, Tiffany cutting herself off with a squeal as I flipped our positions on the bed in an instant. From the sparkle in her eye, I could tell the display of physical dominance turned her on. “Damian, you’re being very naughty—”

Even her protest was weak, which only turned weaker as I began pounding her into the bed.

“But isn’t this easier, mommy?”

“Damian, listen to mommy…” the last vestiges of her attempt to maintain her role as the dominant rapidly dwindled to nothing, her own voice even betraying her as a slew of moans erupted from her throat. “Oh, oh god…” Seeing Tiffany start breaking down, especially with how staunchly her stance was in preserving the roleplay, caused a swell of pride and power to balloon inside my chest. The strict ‘mother’, now reduced to a moaning, mewling mess, at the whims of my cock violating every inch of her wanton pussy … in my many years of living and countless women I’ve bedded, few, if any, sights compared in sexiness and how great it felt to know that I was the cause of it.

“See? Isn’t this better?”

Tiffany shook her head slightly, her legs wrapping around my waist. “B-But I was supposed to b-be rewarding you.”

“You are.”

The suffocating tightness was only counteracted by the sheer wetness of her pussy, well-lubricated from her previous three orgasms. Added to that was an overwhelming heat that only added to the heat of our synchronized motion created a symphony of moans, damp skin slapping against each other, the squeaking of the luxurious hotel suite’s bed, and the panting that came between the moans.

“Damian, oh—oh, fuck!”

Tiffany’s moan turned into a high-pitched squeal as my fingers pushed aside her folds to lightly pinch the hardened nub north of our connection.

“You like that?”

“Yes, I—fuck!”

I pinched it again, with a bit more pressure, causing Tiffany’s back to arch well off the bed.

“Hmm, you’re so sexy, Tiff.”

I leaned forward, leaving my fingers at her clit while my lips found hers. While our previous kisses could be described as messy, it didn’t hold a candle to this kiss; it was as wild and sloppy as it was wet and loud, the constant smacking of our lips quickly joining the cacophony of sounds that were echoing throughout the suite.

“Mmm…”

A deep, guttural moan reverberated out from Tiffany’s throat, her lips unrelenting in their counter-assault on mine. The wet, velvety texture of her lips glided against mine, made more difficult by how the force of my thrusts were causing her body to shake, but they never separated for more than a second.

“So desperate…”

I could feel one hand tightly gripping the back of my head and the other, my neck, the tensing of her legs and the continual strings of muffled moans vibrating from her throat reaffirming the two words I managed to gasp out. However, as accusatory as the words were, the same could be said about me: but with how sweet her lips were, and how soft they felt against mine, and how expertly they caressed and rubbed against and massaged my lips, how could I not become so desperate? I was already kissing her, but I still needed more.

“So good…”

My tongue brushed against the entrance to her lips and instantly, was allowed access. Tilting my head for a better angle, I deepened the kiss, feeling the powerful pink muscle in her mouth coming out to meet my own. My nose was nearly poking her cheek, the hot puffs of air on mine telling me hers was in a similar position, the subtle aroma of her subtle perfume wafting into my nose.

Fuck, I’m going to go crazy.

I was thankful I was experienced enough to let my body go on auto-pilot, because I was beginning to feel dizzy with the overload of stimulation from all sources: from her silky legs wrapped around my wait, from her ample boobs pressed against my chest, from her scent being injected through my nostrils, from her vaginal walls gliding along my cock, from her luscious lips pressed firmly against mine, from her tongue dancing expertly around my tongue, from the squirming of her body as my finger continued to tease her clitoris—

I need a short break.

I pulled away, my hips slowing down considerably as I did so. “Sorry Tiff, I need—”

All my concerns for taking a break instantly vanished upon looking at her face: eyelids half-lidded, tongue now lolling out of her parted lips, chest heaving, the lower half of her body spasming at the orgasm that was currently wracking her body.

“I’m—fuck, I can’t—”

Damn, I knew I was good, but I’m not that good. That drug really is something else, huh?

It wasn’t intentional, but taking advantage of Tiffany in the state she was in felt wrong. Maybe Tiffany herself didn’t feel that way—maybe she was in as much ecstasy as she looked to be in—but having brought her to such a state not by my own efforts, but with the help of a drug, made it not as satisfying. I doubted she would’ve have gotten like this if she was with the man who fed her the drug, but knowing it wasn’t all me made me wonder how much of it was me.

“Ah, ah, fuck…”

The Korean-American celebrity gasped, her words breathy and her half-conscious state only marginally improving.

“Are you ok?”

Even after waiting a minute for her to calm down was evidently insufficient, as she continued to shake, albeit less violently. “Sorry, fuck…”

“Language, mommy.”

Tiffany grinned, the continual orgasms that had wracked her body and brought her to the half-conscious state she was in coming to a halt. “Sorry, baby.”

“Looks like you need a break too, with how many times you just came in a row.”

Tiffany’s eyes narrowed, biting the corner of her lower lip in reaction to the flash of lust that passed my eyes. “Not like you minded, you just continued fucking me like I was your personal fleshlight.”

“You’re saying that like you weren’t moaning up a storm, begging for more.”

“Oh, I never said I didn’t mind.”

Those words, the seductive voice she spoke with, and the sexy smirk that followed, nearly blew away all of the restraint I was employing.

Fuck, she’s dangerous.

“What made you stop?”

“Other than seeing your barely-conscious state?”

“Don’t kid yourself, I know it wasn’t me that caused you to stop. Otherwise, you would’ve stopped a long time ago.”

I almost laughed at that. “You almost sound proud of cumming so much.”

Tiffany shrugged. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I was getting overwhelmed.”

Caught off guard, Tiffany’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Hm?”

“The answer to your question,” I responded, “I stopped because I was getting a little overwhelmed. Although it looked like you were a little more overwhelmed than me. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“No reason to. It felt amazing.” I found myself grinning and opened my mouth to reply, but was cut short by Tiffany, “But I couldn’t help but notice: you didn’t cum yet, did you?”

“Did you really want me to fill up your sore, tiny little pussy badly?”

“Don’t you?” I felt my dick twitch in response to that again. Fuck, why is so so— “I already told you, didn’t I? Cum lots and lots inside mommy~” Tiffany’s response, the cuter, higher-pitched tone she used while doing the roleplay, and the suggestive smirk on her face, acted as the final straw that broke my restraint.

My hands went under her thighs and lifted her legs up, a surprised squeal coming out of Tiffany’s lips as I pushed them upwards into a ‘V’ shape. “You asked for this, so don’t blame me for not stopping until I empty my load inside you, mommy.”

“Yeah, fuck!”

The words came out half as a moan and half as a scream, her back arching as I drilled into her from a downward angle. My knees planted firmly into the mattress and my hands tightly gripping her legs as her body shook with the force of my thrusts, I watched as her face quickly gave way to lust. It didn’t take long for her hands to creep onto her chest to start massaging her own breasts, rubbing and kneading the supple skin like playdoh; her lips her parted, eyes closed, head thrown back, every part of her being proudly displaying the ecstasy she was feeling from the strong, rapid thrusts of my cock in and out of her womanhood.

“How badly do you want this?”

“So badly, mommy needs it, mommy needs your cum—ah!” the last bit of her sentence was cut short by a louder moan when the force of my thrusts caused my groin to press up against her clit. I took advantage of the contact, a grin appearing on my face from the mewling mess Tiffany became upon rubbing the sensitive nub.

The telltale signs of her pussy tightening around my cock and the increasing frequency of her moans told me all I needed to know about her next impending orgasm. “You gonna cum again?”

“Yes, fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it, my clit, you’re rubbing it so much, and your cock, oh god—oh, god!”

The sexy sight before me only made me want to work harder, of her body violently conceding to the nth orgasm of the night.

“What a naughty mommy, cumming so many times when she was supposed to be giving a reward to her baby boy.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she panted, barely able to formulate complete sentences from the heavy panting that was disabling her articulatory functions.

I didn’t give her any time to recover from her orgasm, continuing at the same speed and ferocity as before. The squeaking of the poor bed returned, the suite soon filled yet again with the combined sounds of our moans, my balls slapping her wet labia, and that noise, amplified more this time by the additional strength the position allowed me to use.

“God, fuck, it’s too much—!”

It wasn’t so much of me letting her ride out her orgasm as much as it was me chasing after my own. The buildup after all this time, the anticipation from the first time I laid my eyes on her and reigniting when she came onto me strongly in the club, was all coming to a head in every thrust that smashed the tip of my cock against her cervix.

I had a pretty good imagination, but actually fucking her was a million times better than any fantasy I had. Her perfect, beautiful visage ruined by the tongue nearly lolling out of her mouth, her stunning eyes rolled to the back of her head, her flawless, pale skin dotted with beads of sweat, her silky, jet-black hair strewn all over the blanket, all in a lecherous display before me. That wasn’t even to mention her beautiful voice screaming out in ecstasy, her soaking wet yet simultaneously suffocatingly tight pussy massaging the length of my cock as it glided along its walls, every thrust causing a spurt of her juices to land on my growingly damp groin, even the silky-smooth feeling of her tensing thighs in my left hand that defeated the vision I had looking at her.

“You love my cock so much, don’t you?”

With how much of my penis I was withdrawing from her entrance, it was only a matter of time before it slipped out; when it did, I held her thighs with my elbow while directing the drenched rod back inside her, another moan erupting from Tiffany’s lips.

“Yes~” the force used to fully sheath myself back inside her caused the fat on her ass to reverberate, her body jerking upwards in reaction to my vigor, “I love it so much, fuck!”

I took advantage of my hand’s position to reach between her folds and pinched her clit, causing another string of high-pitched moans to echo throughout the bedroom. “Does mommy really want another baby?”

She nodded frantically, yet another impending orgasm causing her to twist and squirm around. “Yes! Please!”

I desperately held my climax back, wanting to indulge in this moment for as long as I could withstand it, but everything was working against me: the sight of Tiffany reveling in her pleasure, the feeling of her body intertwined within mine, the beautiful melodies of moans and screams that continually flew out her lips, even the smell of sex that was gradually taking over my nostrils. “You’re a really slutty mommy, wanting to feel her baby’s cum fill up every crevice of her naughty little pussy, aren’t you?”

“Ye—Yes—Yes!” Tiffany, barely able to formulate words at this point, could only scream out the one word in agreement, the climax that took over her body shortly after turning her into a moaning, screaming mess.

I barely had time to let out a warning yell before my own climax took over, giving her clit one last firm pinch before feeling the tension inside my nethers untangle all at once.

“Fuck, it’s so hot!”

“Here’s your baby you wanted to much, mommy.” My right hand quickly went back to her thighs, holding onto them with both hands for leverage, using her orgasming pussy to ride out my own orgasm, each thrust pushing in the torrent of the sticky substance deep inside the singer’s womb.

“More, please, more!”

The combined climaxes and the resulting creampie brewing inside her evidently extended her stay at her peak, her ability to stay still rendered completely inert by her pleasure sending tidal wave after tidal wave of ecstasy throughout her entire body.

“Ugh, shit,” I grunted, feeling the last few strands of my seed being milked out by the convulsing, fleshy walls of her baby canal.

The following minute was filled with nothing but the sounds of our deep pants, me taking a minute to rest before letting her legs fall back onto the bed.

“Damian…”

“Hm?”

I looked up to see Tiffany beckoning for me. I obediently leaned forward, letting her hands wrap around my head and pull me down into another kiss. A pleased moan vibrated inside my throat, the feeling of her lips rubbing and massaging mine and her ample bosom smooshed against my chest barely able to fight against the refractory period softening my penis still inside her. She let me go after a few seconds, a lazy smirk on her lips. “Thanks, that was amazing. But, you’re still hard?”

I definitely had the stamina to go another round or two, but just a glance at the drooping eyes of Tiffany told me all I needed about what kind of a person she was: in her heart of hearts, a people pleaser.

I shook my head, only to be met with an indignant, “Yes you are, I can still feel how hard you are inside me.”

“Tiff, I think it’s best that we stop.”

“Huh?”

For all the ways the existence of Tiffany fucked with my mind, I was glad this part of me remained unchanged. “Look, you’re struggling to stay awake.”

“No, I—”

“It’s ok, we can continue next morning if you’re up for it.”

She adamantly shook her head, her lips forming into a pout. “I’m fine, you can keep fucking me if I fall asleep.”

Being too exhausted to resist, I had little issue removing her legs that had wrapped around my waist and pulled out of her. A shudder ran up her spine that escaped out her mouth as I did so, a stream of fluids leaking out of her red and battered hole. “Let’s clean you up first, don’t want any UTIs or anything.”

Tiffany continued to pout but obliged, letting me carry her to the bathroom to wash her privates. “Do you have any Plan B pills with you?”

She nodded. “In my purse.”

After feeding the pills to her, I finished drying her up before plopping her back in bed, under the covers. However, before I could leave, I was stopped by her hand, shooting out from under the blanket and grabbing my wrist.

“Don’t go.”

I turned back around in shock, as it seemed like Tiffany’s eyes had already closed when I pulled the blanket over her.

“I’m only going to the bathroom.”

Ordinarily, I would’ve had no problem staying the night with her, but not when it came to celebrities. In those cases, I usually opted to slip out the same night, not wanting to cause a scene or any problematic news articles. Doing so has only backfired once, and even then, the model came to understand my intentions after explaining them to her.

“You already tried that on me, remember?”

Damn it. Why didn’t I turn around when I said that?

“It’s better if I leave now, isn’t it?”

She frowned pointedly at that. “Why?”

My brows furrowed, pursing my lips in confusion. “Well, because you’re a celebrity, and you don’t want to be caught leaving a hotel with a man?”

“We can just leave at different times.” There was no denying that, but still, I didn’t want to take any risks when I didn’t have to. “Plus, you promised me, didn’t you?”

“Hm?”

“That we’d continue tomorrow morning.”

I sighed, the twitching of my mostly-flaccid cock catching the attention of Tiffany, who giggled at the sight. “Are you going to insist that I stay?”

She nodded. “Please?”

As much of an admitted playboy I was, the pleading eyes of a beautiful woman was something I had little resistance to; and when that beautiful woman was Tiffany, the queen of being able to bend me to her will, that resistance all but crumbled.

“I really can’t win against you, can I?”

The smile on my face transferred to Tiffany, who opened the blanket covers, scooting over and patting the space she made for me. “Come to mommy~”

I obliged, slipping under the covers with her and letting her wrap her arms around mine, pulling them against her naked breasts, and resting her head against my bare shoulder. While I had no problems with her snuggling up to me like that, I couldn’t help but become a little concerned. “Is that comfortable?”

With her eyes still closed, she replied, “If I don’t do this, you’ll run away after I fall asleep, won’t you?”

I found myself smiling. It was an option I was holding onto in the back of my mind, but Tiffany seemed to be too thorough to let me do that. “Busted.”

She smiled back. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

By the time I repeated the words to her, she had already fallen asleep, and not too long after, so did I.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

Hugh is away for press and calling home to you and your son - fluff fluff fluffy

You were lying in bed with your son, Kai, Hugh's 'Put me in coach' shirt Jim Carrey t-shirt that smelled faintly like his cologne. Kai was curled up into your side as you rested a bowl of chips on your swollen stomach. Your son was laughing at the TV as you watched your husband's latest interview. You could blame the constant interview watching on your son, but it was for you too. You missed when he wasn't home, usually you would travel with him, but you were too far long in your pregnancy. Though you did enjoy yourself, as he appeared on 'First we feast' eating hot chicken wings when he comedically tried stuffing the bowl of ice cream into his mouth and the four-year-old that it was the funniest thing to ever happen. You couldn't hold by your chuckles as you snapped a picture of his frozen face, his veins poking out and his mouth wide open, mid bowl choking.

"Dad's so funny!" Your son giggled, his eyes glimmer up at the screen, you knew how much Kai adored his dad.

You also knew Hugh's love for his family. When you first met him, the subject of his own children came up. The way Hugh spoke about them made you want to have your own children. He adored both of his kids and just the though to how good of dad he must be didn't leave your mind. He wanted to make sure you comfortable with the idea of meeting them one day. You were in early 30's but you had to admit back then the idea of meeting his kids was scary. But not something you were opposed to.

When you did meet them, he reminded you to just be yourself. The two of you had grown close in such a short amount of time. But Hugh seemed to learn everything about you, constantly soaking up information like a sponge. Doing everything, he can make sure you were comfortable and always making the air seem light. Though you were still incredibly nervous, but they didn't seem to hate you. You'd try sharing with them about things you have in common. You felt the grounding touch of Hugh's firm hand on your thigh, and the night seemed to become a whole lot easier with just his touch.

You were 7 months along and just loved how large Hugh's children were. Kai definitely caused some tearing on the way out and you were nervous it was going to happen again. Especially because you were having another boy. But you were torn out of your nightmarish thoughts of birthing a giant baby as your phone started to ring. You smiled at the familiar ring tone of 'The Other Side' plays for Hugh's number. You immediately put him on speaker phone and Kai already knew his ring tone so he sat up straight.

"Hi love." Hugh greeted.

"Hi daddy!" Kai yelped, your son took after his dad in the endless amount of energy and silliness. "Oh my gosh, you are so funny?"

"Yeah?" He chuckled on the other end, the sound making butterflies swarm in your stomach. "Whatta I do?"

"You shovin a whole ice cream bowl in your mouth!"

"You and mum watching my interviews?"

"We might be." You hummed.

"There's that voice, how is my girl and other boy?"

"We're good, my feet are so swollen."

"Wish I was there, baby." The sound of Hugh's voice was emotional, you knew how hard this was for him. He had his fun and it was hard to spend time with Ryan. But he missed you, Kai and your life together so badly. He'll be ready for a break in the fall time.

"Can make it up to me by singing to me to bed tonight."

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

"Daddy, you won't believe what happened at school!"

"What baby?"

"Well, well, today we were playing tag and I finally got Roger!"

"Really now?" Hugh's voice showed intrigue, a light feeling coming your heart. "Did ya do what we talked about?"

"Yeah, I hid behind the slide!"

"Good job, kiddo, proud of you. You being good to your mumma?"

"Hugh." You blushed.

"Yup! Lots of cuddles."

"Raising quite the gentleman, I am raising, huh love?" Hugh joked, as you shook your head with a playful smile on your face.

"Do I need to make your ego bigger?"

"Please, darling."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too baby."

note: i am soooo bad at sticking to plans guys i'm so sorry, probably the things i said i was gonna do probably wont happen but i'm trying! it's my mental illness showing what can i say! ik i said i'd probably not write for hugh but hehe, inspo struck! hopefully this okay this my first time writing for hugh

tag: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly