#wet night in midtown | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojodarling · 2 years ago

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after hours ⤑ gojo satoru | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: ❝ thanks to the missions assigned by the higher-ups, you've not seen your boyfriend in two weeks. thus, when he asks you to meet him in his office, at two am no less, there's little you can do to refuse him. ❞ established relationship. pwp.

❥ pairing: gojo x f!reader ❥ genre: fluff ∴ smut ❥ word count: 14.7k don't look at me

⤑ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: hard dom!gojo, bratty sub!reader, big cock!gojo, bdsm themes, office sex, teasing, hickeys, marking, fingering, degradation, dirty talk, finger sucking, spanking, pain kink, thigh riding, masturbation, praise, grinding, thigh spanking, choking, nipple play, nipple torture, bondage, anal play, gojo is mean, orgasm control, orgasm denial, cum eating, excessive rubbing/grinding of genitals, wet & messy, self exhibitionism & voyeurism, unprotected sex, riding, rough sex, crying, begging, overstimulation, objectification kink (i.e. she wants to be used as a cocksleeve), deep dicking, hair pulling, once again gojo is fucking mean, spit as lube, anal fingering, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, squirting, brief cum play

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: nothing but gojo brain rot for the rest of the gowhores out there because i am v much obsessed with this man. 12/10 would sell my soul for 1 [one] lick of his dick

― read it on AO3 here

It’s a Tuesday night when your phone buzzes from under your pillow. Considering it’s way past midnight, and you’re attempting to fall asleep—though to no avail, sleep generally didn’t come to you until the early hours of night—you decide to ignore it. Whoever it is, can wait till the morning. After you’ve had some well deserved rest.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself at first.

That is, until your phone buzzes again after a couple of moments. Then again, and again, and again. Until the buzzing sound drives you insane and you have no choice but to answer whoever was messaging you. Whoever it is, it better be a life or death situation—if it’s anything short of mass curses terrorising midtown Tokyo and slaughtering everyone, you’ll be the one committing a series of murders. Especially if it’s the higher-ups sending you on another mission.

When your phone buzzes again, this time with a slew of vibrations, you groan and blindly reach under your pillow to grab it, your eyes squinting at the harsh light when you see multiple notifications from your boyfriend. Curiosity speckling your being, you unlock your phone and open his messages.

asshole💖: u up? asshole💖: baby? asshole💖: baabbbbyyy asshole💖: come on wakey wakey sweet angel asshole💖: its not even 3am i know ur not asleep asshole💖: honey? asshole💖: sweetheart? asshole💖: pretty girl? asshole💖: princess? asshole💖: little dove? you: no, i am asleep asshole💖: haha, knew you weren’t :) asshole💖: where r u rn? you: ? you: in bed you: where else would i be??? asshole💖: which bed, mine or urs you: mine obviously you: ur luxury penthouse is 2 big n bougie for me to stay in it comfortably without u you: all that space to myself is… disconcerting asshole💖: u deserve luxury n bougie baby asshole💖: nothing but the best for my girl

That has you pausing, a warm fuzziness settling within your stomach. You pull your lower lip between your teeth and gnaw at the flesh, your eyes roving across the text over and over again. Satoru spoils you like no one else would, like no one else could. Lavish dates at fancy, completely booked out, reservation only restaurants, extravagant holidays and cruises to beautiful countries across the world, expensive gifts from luxury brands with far more zeros than it’s worth on the price tag.

But none of that compares to the way Satoru is completely and utterly enamoured with you; nor the way he claims you as his. My girl. Something about the honeyed possessiveness in his words blooms butterflies within the pits of your abdomen. And if you close your eyes, you can envision the carnal lust in his eyes as his gaze roves over your body, feel the greedy hunger in his touch as his imaginary fingers skim over your flesh, setting it afire with need. You’ve never felt as loved, or desired, in your life as you have with Satoru.

A smile curls at your lips involuntarily and you begin typing again.

you: ok that’s sweet you: but also it’s fine, i like my room asshole💖: ok so ur at the school then, yeah? come meet me at my office you: what you: ??????? you: no you: its 2am you: some of us are trying to sleep asshole💖: without me? unfortunate. asshole💖: and also unacceptable you: not my fault you’re on a mission

You pause, your exhausted brain slowly parsing his words as you reach over his previous texts once again. In your tiredness, you’d somehow missed the fact that he’d asked you to meet in his office—an office that was definitely in Tokyo, Japan and not London, England where he’d been sent on a mission. As soon as it clicks, you shoot up in bed, the covers falling to your waist. The warmth you’d enveloped yourself disappears, your flesh prickling with goosebumps as a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden drop in temperature. Ignoring the sudden chill, your fingers hastily glide over your phone screen as you reply to him.

you: wait. did u say meet u at ur office???? you: satoru r u back??? asshole💖: lol yeah asshole💖: also not my fault i was on a mission either :(((( asshole💖: blame the higher ups asshole💖: maybe i should kill all of them <3 asshole💖: if it weren’t for them, i would never have to leave u you: 🙄 you: you’ve been saying that ur gonna kill them all for years and yet… here we r, so either follow thru or move on 🙄🙄🙄 you: but also gojo… when tf did u get back 🤨 asshole💖: gojo?! asshole💖: who tf is gojo you: ??? u lmao asshole💖: no tf i’m not asshole💖: it’s satoru, or toru, or baby, or love of my life, or my one and only, or the best dick game ever to u asshole💖: not gojo you: ur literally so annoying asshole💖: you love me you: right now? debatable. i am TRYING to sleep asshole💖: but u can’t sleep can u? you: well, i could if SOMEONE stops blowing up my phone with texts 😐 asshole💖: hahaha asshole💖: ur so funny you: oh my god. WHAT do u want??????? asshole💖: i literally told you. meet me in my office lol you: ? yeah u mentioned you: but why? you: can’t we just see each other tomorrow morning you: u know you: at a more reasonable time asshole💖: no i have something to show u you: what? asshole💖: a surprise :) you: i literally hate you. its 2 ! AM ! asshole💖: yeah but i just got back asshole💖: and i missed u you: … you: i missed you too toru asshole💖: okay good. so you’ll meet me in my office then? you: that is not what i said asshole💖: come ooonnn baby. i really, really missed you :( asshole💖: and that pretty pussy you: you dick!!!! surprise my ass you: this is just about u getting ur dick wet!!!!! asshole💖: hahahaha u got me asshole💖: but no i srsly have a surprise asshole💖: so my office, yeah? you: satoru, it’s so late you: i rly am trying to sleep

Despite your blatant refusal, you find yourself complying. It wasn’t very often that you could truly deny Satoru. More than that, you have missed him, and in spite of the late hour, you couldn’t wait to see him. Throwing the covers off of yourself completely, you slip your feet into your sliders and walk across your room to your closet.

asshole💖: i know u can’t sleep till u get this gojick you: wtf is a gojick asshole💖: gojo dick 🍆💦🍆💦🍆💦 you: 😐 you: yes i can. watch me do it rn you; 🥱😴💤

It only takes you a brief few seconds to type out the messages, before you open your wardrobe and begin looking for some clothes to wear. It’s the middle of winter, and considering the school’s location high in the mountains, on the far outskirts of Tokyo, you would not be able to get away crossing the campus from your accommodation to Satoru’s office—no matter how short the walk—in just your scant pyjamas. Not without you first freezing your tits off at least.

asshole💖: hahaha come on u know u want ur gojogasms asshole💖: so come to my office you: you ! are ! so ! annoying !!!!!! you: also why ur office? you: you can literally warp here and it’s be easier. hell u could even walk. the office isn’t far from my room asshole💖: yeah but where’s the fun in that lol asshole💖: office because i’m doing paperwork you: haha what a joke. u never do paperwork asshole💖: well SOMEONE said im too mean to ijichi. so now i’m doing my own paperwork asshole💖: but it’s boring. and i want u asshole💖: i promise i’ll make it worth ur while you: …. asshole💖: come on angel you: ugh fine you: this surprise better be worth it too asshole💖: ur gonna love it you: if the surprise is just ur dick i’m going to be so mad asshole💖: 😈 asshole💖: alsoooooooo asshole💖: wear something sexy

Flicking your eyes from the message on your phone screen, you look at the pair of sweatpants and thick jumper you’d rifled from your closet. Warm but definitely not sexy. You haphazardly throw them back into your cupboard before texting your boyfriend back.

you: fuck u asshole💖: don’t worry sweetheart, gonna fuck u so good

Twenty minutes later, you’re walking through the empty corridors of Tokyo Jujutsu High. Thick shafts of moonlight filter through the glass windows, the hoary effulgence your only source of light as you navigate through the school. The wintry air is crisp against your skin, the brittle wind seeping through the cracks of the window and nipping your naked flesh. Limbs trembling, you pull your boyfriend’s jacket closer to you—the article one of many he’d left in your room in the year you’ve been together—it’s warmth your only reprieve from the cold.

Other than Satoru’s jacket, you’re not wearing much else—just a skimpy lingerie set— and though his coat is warm, and oversized enough to cover you to mid-thigh, your outfit does little to shield you from the frigid weather. Nonetheless, with how you’re practically running across the campus grounds, you’ve built up enough heat to keep you warm. As thrilling as it is to walk around the deserted school grounds practically naked for a rendezvous with your boyfriend, you’d really rather not have one of your fellow faculty members—or god forbid, a student—catch you in your current state of dress.

It’s clear you’re not here to complete paperwork. More than that, no one in their right mind would be caught dead out and about in an outfit like this in the middle of winter. Sexy, but definitely not warm.

Thankfully, within moments, you arrive at the door to Satoru’s office and, with a brief knock, you enter. The second you do, however, you halt, a frown forming on your lips. Your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Eyebrows furrowed, your expression coloured with confusion, you approach his desk. The lights are dimmed low, a soft amber glow cast over the space. Your gaze flickers around and from the abandoned papers sprawled on Satoru’s desk, along with his jacket slung over the back of the chair, you know he has been here.

So where the fuck is he now?

Just as you move for your phone, you hear heavy footsteps echo across the hallway. Cocking your head to the side, you watch as Satoru enters his office, only to pause when he sees you. Your boyfriend seems to have abandoned his blindfold, lambent eyes of cerulean on display as they rake over you, a hum of appreciation rumbling through his chest as he takes in your outfit.

“Satoru,” you breathe heavily.

The sound of your voice has him moving once again, your breath hitching as he closes the distance, until he’s standing right in front of you.

“Satoru—” you choke out a second time, your throat tightening at the sight of his blown out pupils, the inky wells dilated with lust and obscuring the ethereal blue of his irises.

Your boyfriend simply hums again, the rich timbre of the sound reverberating through the air and straight to your core. Inadvertently, your thighs clench, molten desire pooling within the pits of your abdomen.

“So pretty in my clothing,” he murmurs, dark possessiveness overshadowing the lust in his eyes. His hand wraps around you, a gasp falling from your lips as he pulls your chest flush against his own, only to lift you up and perch you on the edge of his desk. In a smooth motion, he steps between your legs, your thighs instinctively spreading to make room for him.

You stare at him through the thick of your eyelashes and swallow thickly— an attempt to soothe your dry throat. “W-Where’s my surprise?” you finally ask, grimacing internally at the stutter in your voice.

It’s been a little over two weeks since you’ve seen Satoru—both of you passing each other like ships in the night. Whenever you were back from a mission, it’d seem like Satoru was scheduled on one, and vice versa. You have no idea if the higher-ups had purposely done it, but if you had to bet money on it, you’d bet that they had. The animosity between Satoru and them was no secret, and you wouldn’t put it past them to take out their frustration with him on your relationship.

Two weeks may seem like a short time, but you couldn’t deny just how much you missed him in those days, and reunited now, it was even more evident in the way your body ached for him, the way your pussy wept to be filled by him.

Running his glossy lips along the column of your throat, “You’ll have to wait for it,” Satoru murmurs before lightly nipping your flesh. A gasp of surprise slips through your mouth, your head falling to his shoulder before lolling to the side as you grant him further access. The heat between your thighs intensifies—your arousal dripping out of you and onto your thighs.

“I—I want it now,” you somehow manage to force out, your eyes fluttering as Satoru blooms bruises into your skin—his lips suckling and his teeth scraping your flesh. The hand around your waist drops to your hip and, gripping it, he pulls you further into him. Feeling the hard outline of his throbbing shaft, you let out a small moan; Satoru lowly chuckles.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he responds, his voice heavily laced with a taunt. The pet name drips from his lips, thick like honey and as sweet as sin. “You want it now?” he mimics. As he speaks, his hips buck forward, your mouth parting in a loud groan when his cock presses further against your core. Your pussy clenches at the sensation, your hands moving to grip Satoru’s shirt.

“T-Toru,” his name spills from your lips in a needy whimper, your hips thrusting forward to push against him. Your actions cause Satoru to laugh, the sound low and dark against your neck.

“Tell me, what is it you want?” Satoru taunts, a knowing lilt to his voice. You can’t see his face from the way it's buried into the delicate column of your throat. But you don’t need to see it, you can feel the shit-eating, teasing grin that paints his plump lips—in more ways than one.

A ripple of annoyance flutters through you at his cockiness. He has you exactly how he always does—wanton and desperate for him—and he knows it, feels it in the way you squirm under him. Hell, he could probably smell it, your arousal dripping out of you and onto your thighs, his desk, his crotch. You’d be damned if he had you this easy, he’d never let you live it down. Thus, gathering as much of your willpower, you allow a teasing smile to curl at your lips.

“I want my surprise, Gojo,” you purr out your demand, drawing out the syllables of his name in a sultry tone. When your voice comes out steady, you internally cheer. Instantly, Satoru lifts his head before harshly biting the soft flesh of your earlobe. The action tears a soft cry from your lips, Satoru’s fingers digging into the soft flesh at your hips, so hard you’re sure he’ll bruise his fingerprints into your skin.

“What did you just call me?” he questions, eyeing you with his unimpressed gaze.

“Gojo,” you goad once again. You stare at him with wide eyes, the faux innocence belied by a mischievous twinkle.

“You’ll regret that, baby,” Satoru sneers.

His long fingers move to push the hem of his jacket further up your thighs, uncovering more and more of your skin. With each inch of flesh revealed to his gaze, Satoru devours you, his grandidierite eyes following the movement of his hands up your legs. With a final push, Satoru bunches the hem of his coat around your hips, his hand slipping underneath the material. A guttural moan emanates from your throat when you feel his warm palm pressing hard against your abdomen.

Immediately, his hand begins trailing down until his fingers reach the waistband of your lace panties. He doesn’t bother divesting the coat from your body. Instead, he watches your face as his fingers dip under the elastic.

“Spread,” comes his command; his deep voice cutting sharply through the air.

You don’t have to be asked twice, your thighs immediately parting as you grant him better access to your folds, your pussy desperately aching for his touch.

“Someone’s being good,” Satoru chuckles.

Before you can retort, however, his hand darts further into your underwear, his fingers slipping between your folds and causing you to hiss at the sudden contact. Completely ignoring your clit, Satoru’s fingers begin softly massaging your soaked, puffy lips—the pads of his middle and pointer finger rubbing against either fold of your sex.

“S’toru,” you gasp, your eyes fluttering as you feel him play with your folds.

“Aww, is my baby all swollen and needy? Have you missed my cock in you, princess?” Satoru jeers, a lopsided smirk on his face.

Your nose wrinkles at the taunt. “F-Fuck you,” you stammer.

In a flash, Satoru’s hand moves, his pointer finger and thumb swiftly pinching your swollen clit. The sudden pain, mixed with pleasure, has you crying out, your hand shooting to grip his arm as you dig your nails into its flesh.

“Such a fucking brat, aren’t you, sweetheart,” Satoru practically spits out the endearment. “But it’s all for show, isn’t it? I know how much you want me, know how much of a desperate little cockslut you really are for me,” he continues with a hiss. Thighs trembling, you mew out your disagreement, though the high-pitched, needy inclination of your voice gives you away in an instant.

In indolent movements, Satoru circles the outline of your clit with his fingertip, lightly rolling it under his touch. Whining at the action, you feel your pussy clench around nothing; a gush of wetness floods out of you and down your thighs.

Moving his fingers through your slit, Satoru smirks. His gaze firmly locked on yours, he runs his long, nimble fingers through your cunt, gathering as much of your wetness onto them as he can. Then, travelling further down, he comes into contact with your rippling entrance. Satoru lets out a soft coo when he feels the slick, heated hole.

“God, you’re already so wet. Bet I could slide my cock into this tight little hole right now if I wanted to, bet you’d take it all like a well-trained whore,” he derisively sneers.

Reflexively, your pussy begins to pulsate, twitching around his fingers. The pads of his pointer and middle finger press against your entrance—just enough pressure to draw your attention to it, but not enough to press into you. No matter how much you buck into his hand.

“Oh? I can feel this pretty cunt twitch, baby. Is that what you want? To feel my fat cock slide into this little hole and fuck it open?” Satoru jeers, emphasising his words by sliding two fingers into you.

Pliant in your state of lust, the walls of your cunt easily spread open around his digits, the ringed muscles contracting and sucking him deeper into your velvet depths. Your forehead drops to rest on his chest in response, a low keen escaping your chest when you feel his fingers thrust inside you. Unrelenting, Satoru pushes them deeper and deeper—the motion incredibly slow and deliberate, making you feel every centimetre of his fingers, until he’s pushed them hilt-deep.

“P-please,” you stutter out, your hips grinding into his hand as you try to get him to move.

“Look at me, baby. I want to see how fucked out you are just for my fingers,” Satoru commands.

Unable to disobey, you shift your head and look up at him through the thick of your eyelashes. Gaze locked onto your own, Satoru groans at the turbulent, heady lust clearly visible in your eyes. Pleased by your obedience, he begins leisurely thrusting his fingers into you, the digits wriggling inside you with every plunge. Soft whimpers fall from your lips, your fingers curling around Satoru’s arm tighter as you moan in pleasure.

“Shit—Look at you. Look at the way you’re fucking into my hand. Needy bitch,” Satoru laughs lowly. And sure enough, you grind against his palm, your ass rocking onto his fingers. Swivelling your hips, you thrust into him harder—your cunt walls pulsating as your pussy tries to swallow his fingers deeper. However, all of a sudden, Satoru’s pulling his hand out of your panties, his fingers pulling out of your cunt and leaving you feeling empty all of a sudden.

“No!” you sob, your hips bucking wildly in an attempt to chase his fingers. Softly, Satoru hushes you, pressing soothing kisses against your neck—even as he keeps his hand between your thighs—his fingers rubbing your nether lips and wiping your slick onto them. Pulling away from your sex, he brings his fingers to your lips.

“Awww baby, it’s okay. I’ll ruin that sweet little cunt soon. Fuck you so good, you’ll be crying on my cock,” Satoru cajoles.

“Toru—Toru, please,” you whine, your hips squirming over his desk. You should feel ashamed, you know you should, with the way your pussy is leaking all over his desk. Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when the emptiness in your cunt aches to be filled up.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to fill you up nice and tight with my cock? Want me to cum inside till you’re leaking?” he taunts. The sinfulness of his words has you releasing another gush of arousal, the walls of your pussy tightening around nothing as you feel the dull ache return with a vengeance. Brushing his fingers against your lips, he paints them in your own essence.

“Suck,” Satoru orders as he pushes the digits into your mouth and onto your tongue. Reflexively, you wrap your mouth around the appendages, licking off your own arousal—the heady flavour heavy on your tongue. Satoru hums in approval. Then, he’s stepping away, his fingers slipping from your mouth.

With laboured breaths, you watch as he steps away from you and towards his chair. Eyes glued to his figure, you watch as he takes a seat, his thighs spreading out to accommodate his lengthy legs. In his new position, you can clearly see the way his trousers tent—his indurated cock straining within the confines of his jeans. Staring at you with lust-filled eyes, Satoru beckons you over to him with a crook of his fingers, and on wobbly legs, you walk over to him. When you’re a few feet in front of him, Satoru raises his palm—stopping you in your tracks.

Hand falling down to his side, “Take off my coat,” he orders.

Obediently, you comply. Your fingers move to unfasten the buttons of his jacket, hastily undoing each one before you clasp the material in your hands and shrug it off. The moment your figure comes into view, Satoru’s jaw clenches—the corner muscles flexing.

“Fuck,” Satoru breathes out.

Deliberately, his dark gaze wanders over you—practically feasting on your figure as he drinks you in. Pale blue and black lace cling to your skin; the skimpy material doing nothing to shield you from his predatory glower.

“Come here, pretty girl,” your boyfriend calls out to you. You hop off the desk and close the short distance, stopping when you’re between Satoru’s thick, spread thighs.

“Fuck, baby. Is this a new set? I’ve never seen it before,” he asks, his eyes trailing over your body.

With a teasing smirk, you look down at him. He’s asked you to dress sexy, so you have. Thankfully, you’d had this little piece hidden away, bought after one of your recent missions in Ginza. It was also one of the few pieces you hadn’t shown Satoru yet, something you were grateful for now. It’s a pretty set—made of a mix of delicate lace and soft satin. Of course, it had cost a small fortune—but it’d been worth every yen.

The cups are made of see-through baby blue lace—clearly revealing your hardened nipples as they poke against the material—while the thin straps are made of black satin, each wrapping around your rib cage and breasts like a harness, while a thicker one reaches from between your breasts to wrap around your neck like a choker. The panties are designed in a similar manner—thin, barely-there lace covering your sex while multiple black satin straps sit on your upper hips—just under your waist. You completed the look with a pair of black garters and stockings, the black suspenders clinging onto the lace tops of your thigh highs.

Definitely sexy, just like he’d asked.

“Mhm, do you like it?” you ask before twirling.

All of a sudden, with your back turned towards him, you feel Satoru’s hands grip your hips—halting you in your movements. Lips curling into a devious glint, you know your boyfriend’s seen the best part of this set. You’re glad he was more preoccupied with the way your cunt had felt against his fingers earlier—otherwise, you’re sure he would have realised sooner.

“Fuck are these—” Satoru breathes out, his voice a little strained as he stares at your ass. Turning around and looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes flash with playful delight.

“Crotchless? Mhm,” you hum in response. Satoru sucks in a sharp breath, and instantly, he’s pressing against the lower curve of your spine, pushing you to bend over in front of him.

The movement causes your ass to spread slightly, the thick bands of lace resting against fleshy cheeks pulling apart in tandem. Hissing at the sight, Satoru’s hands grip your ass before his thumbs press against the lower part of your cheeks: spreading the globes and further revealing your sex to him. A strangled moan slips from his throat, his eyes trailing from your ass to your slit, watching as the two thick pieces of fabric turn narrow, resting in the junction of either of your thighs before attaching to the thicker material that he knows covers your mons pubis.

You feel his heavy gaze rest against your ass and, with his hands spreading your cheeks, you know you’re completely on display for his viewing pleasure. Growing wetter against his gaze, you feel him move one of his thumbs from your ass, the other holding you open wider, while he brushes the pad through your soaked slit. A soft moan slips past your throat at the gentle touch, his thumb lightly dipping into your messy hole.

“Sexy enough?” you innocently question. Then, lowering your voice a couple of decibels, “It’s got easy access,” you purr.

Instantly, you feel your boyfriend spank your ass—hard. Heat sears across your skin, a cry tearing through your lips at the sudden strike. Flesh smarting with pain, you feel your boyfriend’s thick lips press against the tender skin: lavishing it with soothing kisses.

“Easy access? God, you’re such a dirty fucking slut. I should spank your pretty ass raw for being such a filthy, depraved whore,” Satoru sneers. His words cause you to clench around his thumb.

“Oh? Do you like that sweetheart? You want me to spank you?” Satoru taunts, pushing his thumb deeper into your dripping hole. Eagerly, you nod, bucking your hips back into him at the prospect. Leaning forward, he presses a tender kiss to the base of your spine, the soft touch making you sigh heavily.

“Oh, I know you do, baby. You’re such a desperate little pain slut,” Satoru says. Then all of a sudden, he’s bringing his hand over your bare ass cheek. Sharp pain flares across your ass, causing you to whimper out his name. When he brings his palm onto your ass, lightly gripping and caressing it soothingly, you let out another deep sigh. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” Satoru coos.

Abruptly, he’s pushing you away. Stumbling forward, you manage to catch yourself, your palms bracing against Satoru’s desk—your boyfriend holding onto your hip to steady you, before he turns you around once more so you can watch him. Through lust-fogged eyes—your thighs rubbing against each other in a bid to alleviate the intense ache between them—you follow the way he unbuckles his jeans: a ripple of anticipation thrumming through you. Time passes slowly, and it feels like Satoru can’t move quick enough. Eventually, he pulls his cock out from under his jeans, a low whimper falling from your throat when you see it.

Perhaps it’s just that you haven’t seen it in a while—but, somehow, he looks bigger than usual. With a thick, angry pink head: the bulbous tip leaking precum, and a swollen shaft: long, thick and ridged with dusky-rose veins, you can’t help the way your mouth waters. Eyes fixated on him, you watch as he runs his large hands over his cock, swallowing thickly as it pulses in his hold. When he runs his thumb over his own tip, covering it in his own precum, you let out a pained whimper—your cunt aching to be filled by him.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Satoru asks sweetly whilst lazily palming his cock. Swiftly, you nod, your hand shooting out to grip his member. The moment you move, Satoru tuts and smacks your hand lightly.

“Satoru,” you whine, once again reaching for his cock. Again, Satoru tuts and bats your hand away.

“I didn’t say you could touch, sweetheart,” he reprimands while clicking his tongue. “In fact…” Satoru continues.

The moment he drawls out the words, you feel an inkling of despair, paired with excitement, course through you. Indolently stroking his cock, your eyes following the movement surreptitiously.

“You’re not allowed to touch at all, do you understand me, princess?” he commands, practically purring. Hearing the words, your face immediately falls—petulance etched across your features.

“Noooo, Toru,” you whine, a pout curling onto your lips. Your fingers twitch to touch him. it’s been so long, you want—no, need—to feel it. Hand shooting out, it moves to curl around his thick shaft. However, anticipating the movement, Satoru brings his hand down onto your thigh hard, causing you to mewl in pain.

“I said no,” Satoru hisses, his voice low, and dangerous.

Whimpering, you squirm harder. However, with how slick your thighs are—covered in a light sheen of your own wetness—the movement does nothing to alleviate your wanton neediness. A broken sob falls from your lip; Satoru moves his hands to your hips and pulls you closer. Dipping his head down, he runs his nose along the length of your torso: from just under your breasts, to the top of your mound. He places a tender kiss against the waistband of your underwear—his supple lips causing your flesh to tingle with pleasure.

“I told you to be good for me, baby. Don’t you want to be good for me?” Satoru taunts. An impertinent retort sits at the tip of your tongue, but you bite it down; mainly because you’re desperate to feel his cock in you—or even on you at this point.

“I’ll be good,” you murmur back.

Satoru smiles against your skin, and with a soft kiss, paired with a hum of approval, he pulls away. Then, in one fluid motion, he pushes his thigh between your legs before bringing your hips down onto them. Hissing through your teeth at the movement, your cunt clenches around nothing—the rough, hard fabric of his jeans pressing against your aching pussy. Satoru lets out a soft grunt, his thigh twitching slightly as he feels the heat of your core seep through the denim.

“God—you’re so hot. And so fucking wet…” Satoru murmurs through gritted teeth. The rough denim against your bare, swollen folds has you whimpering, and before he can say anything, you’re already fidgeting over his thighs.

“Depraved little slut. Does it feel good, baby? Hmmm, I bet it does… finally having something other than yourself touch your needy pussy,” Satoru taunts, a wry grin on his face. Eagerly, you nod, your hips moving harder.

Suddenly, he spanks your thigh, making you cry out his name. The flesh blooming with pain from the sharp impact, Satoru soothingly runs his palms up and down your thigh. “Now, I want you to be good, sweetheart. Can you do that?” Satoru asks, his voice coming out in a deep hum.

Hastily nodding, “I’ll be good,” you repeat once again.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Satoru chuckles, knowing that your obedient streak would run out sooner or later. “Now, here’s what I want you to do… I want you to ride my thigh,” Satoru commands.

You mewl in pleasure, nodding eagerly once again. You’ll ride his thigh for the rest of the night if it means he finally plays with you. Then, after a brief pause, and with a borderline sadistic smile, “But I want you to keep your hands to yourself,” Satoru finishes.

Despair washes through you at that.

“Satoru, that’s not fair. P-Please. W-Wanna feel you,” you whimper out in protest.

“I know you do, baby. But this is your punishment for behaving like a little brat. How many times did I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself, hmm? How many times have you called me Gojo, huh baby?” Satoru snarks. The deep baritone of his voice resounds through his office and involuntarily, your stomach twists.

“I’m sooory,” you whine out your apology.

Satoru chuckles darkly. His hand moves to your hip, and dipping it between your thighs, he lazily brushes it against your exposed clit. Crying out, you begin rocking over his thigh—your eyes fluttering open and shut as he continues stroking your clit with featherlight movements.

“Oh, I bet you are, sweetheart. I bet you’re soo sorry,” Satoru coos, and if you didn’t know your boyfriend better, you’d believe the false sympathy in his voice.

However, you do know better, and you’re proven right a few brief seconds after, when that same sympathy disappears. All of a sudden, Satoru flicks your clit hard, his fingernail scraping against the sensitive bud. You cry out, pleasure blurring your vision as your head falls back.

“But I told you you’d regret it, didn’t I?” Satoru laughs wryly, a sardonic smile curling at his glossy lips. “So, now, you’ll ride my thigh and watch me play with myself knowing you can’t touch. I think that’s fair, don’t you, baby?”

It’s not often that anyone would call Satoru sweet, but to you, he is. He’s sweet, and loving, and gives into every single one of your whims. But Satoru’s dominance is not to be tested—and you know that he won’t budge—no matter how much you whine or beg. At least, not until he’s sure you’re at your wit’s end.

Spanking your thigh suddenly, “I asked you a question, princess, I expect an answer,” Satoru hisses.

“Y-Yes, Toru. That’s fair,” you snivel.

It’s not. You know it’s not.

And every part of you wants to rebel, to scream that no, it’s not fair and you want to touch him, need to touch him.

Nevertheless, you know that will only result in Satoru punishing you with something worse. More than that, you’re too caught up in how good the coarse fabric of his jeans feels against your naked, sopping cunt.

“Good girl. Now, ride,” Satoru purrs as he leans back in the leather chair.

Yielding to his dominance, you gyrate your cunt against his thighs, your hands falling to grip your own—your fingers twitching to touch him. Whiny gasps and moans fall from your lips; the abrasiveness of his jeans causes you to cry out in pleasure. His thigh is thick between yours, your clit dragging across the length as you try to press it harder into him. With every movement of your hips, you leave broad trails of slick over his jeans—the thick material covered in a light coating of arousal. Though, with each motion of your hips, the fabric grows wetter.

From his reclined position, Satoru simply watches the way you move: your hips swivelling and your stomach writhing enticingly as you do your best to grind over him. Captivated by your erotic motions, Satoru begins palming at his heavy length. Lazily, he strokes his pulsating member—rhythmically squeezing it whenever you get to his tip. Mushroom tip leaking translucent beads of precum, he swipes at his slit every now and then, coating his thumb in the sticky substance as he wets his dick with his own arousal.

Seeing his movement, you let out a soft whimper; your mouth watering. You’d give anything—anything—to feel his cock. Plagued by the way it pulses in his large hands—how the angry bulbous head leaks all over him—your movements become more feverish: each motion a little faster, or harsher than the previous one.

Meanwhile, Satoru’s lust-darkened gaze trails down your body, stopping when he gets to your chest. Within the confines of your bra, your nipples are twisted hard—the buds straining against the lace mesh of the cup. A large part of him wants to remove the bra and tease your nipples until you’re begging him to cum—but he can’t deny just how undeniably good it looks on you, the sight of the baby blue and black material against your skin causing his cock to throb painfully in his hand. So, instead, he reaches out and lightly brushes his thumb against your covered nipple.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your fingernails digging into your thighs as you shudder over him.

Nonetheless, repeatedly, Satoru begins swiping his thumb over your nipples—dragging them under his pad—while his other hand leisurely strokes his own shaft. Almost painfully tightened to hardness, each of his movements has your sensitive nipples brushing against the coarse material of your bra, the sensation only heightening your pleasure. Briefly, you pause your motions, simply sitting on his thigh as your cunt erratically clenches, while you relish in the way he teases your hardened bud.

God, you desperately need to touch him.

In an instant, Satoru pinches the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, before twisting it painfully. A sharp thrum of stinging pain shoots from your breast and straight to your core: your cunt clenching and releasing a gush of wetness at the pain.

“Did I say you could stop, sweetheart?” Satoru hisses, his pretty features twisted into a domineering sneer.

Despite his words, the pain has you arching into his hold, a moan of ecstasy emanating from your throat as you wordlessly beg for more. Satoru growls, and twists your nipple harder this time; his fingers pulling the hardened peak painfully.

“Don’t be a fucking brat. I told you to move,” he scolds.

Having had enough of your own obedience, petulance rises in your chest, and for a moment, you don’t do anything—simply looking at him, defiance rife within your eyes. Seeing the mischievous spark, Satoru raises a single eyebrow at you.

He trails his hand up your chest, his hand splaying against your sternum before he wraps it around your throat. The thick lace band of the bra’s choker pulls tighter against your throat, Satoru’s warm fingers simultaneously flexing around your neck. With his hand spread over your throat, he tenderly brushes his lips against yours. Then, pulling your lip between his teeth, he nips at the soft petal.

“Do you really want to be a brat now, princess? When you’re so close to cumming?” Satoru’s sweet voice breaks the silence; his breath wafting against your lower face.

He doesn’t say it explicitly, but the warning is there: as clear as day. If you don’t obey him, he won’t let you cum. The threat of your boyfriend edging you has your eyes widening. Usually, you would push him more—loving nothing more than when your boyfriend punishes you by pushing you to your limits. But it’s been so long since you’ve had him that you’re sure if he edges you even once, you’ll go insane, each of your brain cells fried by ravenous lust. You already can’t touch him—the restraint driving you crazy. So, instead of challenging him further, you begin moving on top of him again.

“That’s my good girl,” Satoru praises, his head dropping so he can brush his thick lips against the outline of your collarbone.

The appraising action has you mewling—and unable to help yourself—you drop your head; your nose buries in his thick hair as you breathe him in.

“Come on, sweet girl, don’t you wanna cum?” Satoru asks as he purposely tenses his thigh. His ministration causes his muscle to contract to hardness, the tense flesh pressing against your swollen clit.

The action draws a deep, guttural groan from you and you begin moving over him again. Not having had a decent orgasm in over two weeks—the orgasms you wring from your fingers or your toys nowhere near the blissful intensity of the ones Satoru reaps from you—you can already feel your stomach begin to twist; the dull heat intensifying into a searing vengeance.

Your eyes drop to where Satoru is once again playing with his own cock, palming at the heavy length in long, slow strokes. Mouth drying at the sight, you can’t resist any longer. Hand shooting out, you press your palm against his length and caress it. The moment you feel it—thick and pulsating—under your touch, you whimper needily.

Instantly, Satoru pinches your nipple—twisting and pulling it harshly. Pain flares around your breast, the stinging sensation causing your entrance to quiver and release another gush of wetness onto his jeans.

“What did I say?” Satoru hisses out.

“Please,” you whine, your hand reaching out to stroke him again. However, batting your hand away, Satoru lets out a low growl.

“Hands to yourself or I’ll tie them up,” Satoru warns through grit teeth.

Pausing for a moment, your throat constricts as you imagine being bound and at the mercy of your angry, dominant boyfriend. A thrum of excitement flitting through you, you simply quirk your eyebrow. Then, with a mischievous smile curling on your face, “You have nothing to tie me up with,” you purr out, a challenging twinkle sparkling in your eyes.

“I don’t need something to restrain you, princess,” Satoru spits out.

Then, as if to prove a point, he’s twisting your hands behind your back. Eyes widening at the sudden movement, he leaves you no room to react, one of his strong hands already gripping both your wrists in his hold. Wildly, you thrash against him, trying to release your wrists from his hold. However, Satoru is much stronger than you, the strongest, and his fingers curl around your wrists tightly in a warning.

“Toruuu,” you whine out, and moving your thigh up, you brush your knee against his cock. The unexpected movement has Satoru hissing; his grip around your wrists loosens. Using the opportunity, you break away from his hold before palming at his cock. Swiftly, you run your hand along the entire length, high-pitched keens resounding from your mouth as you relish in the velvet feel of it.

All of a sudden, Satoru spanks your thigh. In a swift motion, he buries his hand into the pocket of his jeans, before pulling out his crumpled blindfold. Your eyes widen at the fabric, and swiftly, Satoru has your hands behind your back—his fingers expertly moving to bind your wrists. Ferociously, you struggle against his hold, doing your best to prevent him from restraining your hands, but Satoru is used to your disobedience, and without much trouble, he has you tied up.

“N-No. No, wanna touch you,” you whimper out, your knee once again rising to brush against his cock. However, anticipating the movement, Satoru brings both his hands onto your thighs—holding them down with his strong grip.

“I said no. Now, I’m willing to let this slide—I know you’re desperate to touch me. But if you disobey me again, I won’t let you cum. Are we clear, princess?” Satoru hisses in a warning.

With your hands bound behind your wrists, you pout. Momentarily, you try struggling again against the binding; however, the knotted material only tightens, making you whimper.

“What did I say, sweetheart? Are you going to try disobeying? Or do you want to cum?” Satoru growls.

You pull your lip between your teeth, gnawing at it as you contemplate your next decision. Again, you want to disobey—you want him to punish you until you can’t take it anymore. However, the overwhelming need to cum overtakes your brattish tendency, and giving in to him, you submit once more.

“I want to cum. I’ll be good,” you mumble out. The corners of his lips pull into a smile, and Satoru leans forward to brush them against yours in appraisal.

“That’s my good girl. See, you do know how to behave,” Satoru hums. Preening under his praise, you nod, your thighs twitching. “Come on, baby, ride me,” Satoru urges, his hands softly massaging the flesh of your thighs.

Wrists flexing around your restraint, you let out a series of short cries and whimpers—your hips moving against him once again. One of your boyfriend’s hands moves to grip your hip, the other wanders up your body to leisurely toy with your nipple—pinching and tugging it through the lace of your bra.

The hand resting on your hip grips you, his fingers digging almost bruisingly into your pelvis as he helps you grind on him. Harder and harder, you rock on top of him: dragging your swollen, aching cunt over the entire length of his thigh as you chase your own pleasure. It’s been so long since you’ve had Satoru play with you like this that even the rough friction of his jeans against your swollen clit is going to have you cumming.

Dark eyes falling to where your thigh clenches his, your cunt moving on him, Satoru lets out a hiss. Fingers tightening on your hips, “That’s it. Good little whore. Get yourself off on my thigh. Look at you, you’re so fucking soaked I can feel you drench my jeans. Desperate fucking cockslut,” Satoru spits out. His words have you whimpering; your pussy involuntarily clenches around nothing—the contraction only serving to emphasise the emptiness of your walls.

Eyes dropping to his cock, you let out a low mew. Left untouched, it stands erect, pressed against his abdomen as it continues leaking into the cotton of his shirt. Imperceptibly, it pulses—the prominent veins pulsing every time blood is pumped to the thick, swollen shaft.

“S’toru, please. P-Please. W-Want your c-cock,” you stammer out as you begin moving in a more frenzied manner.

Humming noncommittally, Satoru presses his thumb against your nipple before rolling it in one tight circle. The ministration has you mewling his name, your spine tingling with pleasure.

“Is that right, sweet girl? Are you already that desperate for my cock? Do you want me to sink into that tight cunt? Feel my cock stretch open that tiny, needy little hole as you cum around me? Is that what you want, baby?” Satoru taunts. His voice is sweet—mellifluous and syrupy. Yet, there’s a darker undercurrent to it, a sinful undertone of dominance that causes your stomach to flip.

“Oh fuck—fuck yes… Toru, I want it. I want it so bad, please,” you beg over him.

Satoru lets out a dark chuckle, his hand moving from your hip to grip your ass. Large palm splaying across the plump flesh, he grips it in his hold before rolling and palming at the muscle.

Satoru hums.

“But I don’t think you can take it, sweetheart. It’s been so long since I’ve fucked that sweet little cunt. Mmmm… that’s right, your tiny pussy is probably too tight to take my fat cock now,” Satoru taunts. Swiftly, you shake your head, your head dropping to his shoulder as you sob out his name.

“I can take it. I can! I want to feel you stretch me out. Toru, please. I want it—want you to ruin my cunt and fuck it open, please,” you wail, pleading with him over and over again; your hips writhing wildly on his thigh.

“Needy fucking whore. God, you’re so fucking desperate,” Satoru hisses

Sitting up in the chair, he pulls your chest against his—both his hands falling to hold your ass—helping you move harder over him. His head dips into the curve of your throat, his nose running up the flesh until his plump lips tease your earlobe.

“Did you miss my cock, baby? Did you miss how good it feels when I slide into that tight little pussy? How I push into that little hole, stretch it open before fucking you hard and deep? I know I did. I missed feeling your dirty little cunt milk my cock,” Satoru groans out.

You let out a shuddering sob, your eyes screwed shut as his deep, melodious, throaty voice reverberates through your eardrum. Nodding against his shoulder, you whine out his name—his words only causing the emptiness of your pussy to intensify.

“You’re already so wet you’ve completely soaked my jeans, you know. I bet you’ll soak my cock just as well—get it nice and wet and messy so I can fuck you hard and fast and rough. Just the way you like—just the way you deserve,” Satoru continues taunting.

Gasping for air, you bury your forehead further into his shoulder, wishing that you could wrap your arms around his shoulders and cling to him.

Between laboured breaths, “S-S’toru… wanna cum… please,” you heave out.

The hands grasping your ass moves to spread your cheeks, his fingers dipping between them. Indolently, he strokes the pads through your wet slit, gathering up your wetness onto them, before trailing up to circle the puckered rim off your ass. Feeling his fingers tease your asshole, you let out a sharp cry, your back arching in pleasure. You push harder against him, shifting your weight so you can grind your clit into the top of his thigh.

The hard material repetitively brushes your throbbing, engorged clit—forcing tingles of heated pleasure to prickle at your skin. Every writhing motion, every time you squirm over him, you climb higher and higher to the brink of your own pleasure. Continuously, Satoru teases your asshole—his slick fingers tauntingly circling the outline of your rim.

When you whine in pleasure, “God, I missed how much of a slut you are for me. Missed how eager you are to take me into any hole,” Satoru admits, his voice thick with torrid hunger. He pushes his finger against the ring of muscles, applying just enough force to tease your asshole, but not enough to push through. The pressure against your ass has the emptiness of your pussy flaring up.

“M-Missed you too. P-Please, Toru… N-Need… Need something,” you force out.

You’re so incredibly close—teetering on the precipice of your orgasm as you ride his thigh. Rocking harder onto him, you grind your clit into his leg, trying to force your own orgasm. Sparks of pleasure jolt across your spine, and you let out a low moan as you feel your end near. However, just before you can fall off of the edge, Satoru lifts you off of him. Swiftly, without any friction against your clit, the intensity of your orgasm fades; the searing heat in your stomach dwindling into a dull ache.

“N-No. You said I could cum! Please! I’m being good!” you sob out in protest, fighting against his strength as you attempt to continue riding his thigh. Tears sting at your eyes, your vision blurring slightly.

Hand coming down onto your thigh sharply, “Not yet. You’ll cum when I say so,” Satoru scolds.

Shaking your head, you scrunch your eyes, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and wail in objection, “But you said! You said I could cum! Satoru, please! I’m being good.”

“Then continue being good and I’ll let you cum. Be patient, princess,” Satoru admonishes. Whimpering as you continue writhing in his hold, Satoru’s strength keeps you from pressing against his thigh again. His hand falls onto his cock, and wrapping around the base, he lifts it up.

He drags his palm over his shaft, till he gets to the weepy tip. Then, swiping his thumb against the head, he coats the pad of his appendage in the sticky wetness of his arousal. Your throat constricts, watching as stringy ropes of precum cling to his thumb. Satoru tears his hand away, and bringing it up to your lips, he swipes it against your lip. Your eyes flutter shut at the movement, Satoru painting your mouth in his essence. Helpless under the action, you poke out your tongue and lick your lips, keening as his heady flavour taints your tongue.

“Filthy cockslut,” Satoru purrs, a praising lilt to his voice. “Do I taste good?” he coos while pressing his thumb between your lips.

Feeling the weight of it on your tongue, his arousal bathing your taste buds, you moan. Instinctively, your tongue roves over his digit, your eyes slipping shut as you relish in his heavy taste. Eventually, Satoru pulls it out, only to swipe at your swollen, precum stained lips.

“That’s my good slut,” your boyfriend praises.

Dropping his hand to his cock, he grips the shaft and holds it up once again. His other hand shoots to your hips and pulls you so you’re straddling both his thighs. With your legs spread open, Satoru drags his cockhead through your puffy folds. Crying out in pleasure, your head falls back; your hips instinctively squirming on top of him.

“Want it, S’toru,” you mumble, your hips swivelling in a circle.

Moving over him, you drag your slit across the velvet head of his cock, trying to position it at your aching entrance. With every second that passes, your walls throb tortuously—the emptiness of them only heightening as Satoru continues to teasingly drag his cockhead through your folds. When his tip catches on your entrance, your cunt rippling around him involuntarily, you both gasp.

His eyes fixated on where his cock strokes through your cunt, Satoru simply watches. Thick, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy—hanging in the air and over his hand and cock in gooey ropes. Each and every time he swipes his head through your slit, you release another gush of wetness, until his entire shaft is coated in your arousal. The stickiness of your sex is only aided further by his own wetness—his precum gathering in thick globs around his slit—and with every drag, he only coats your cunt in his own arousal.

“Fucking shit, you’re so fucking messy. Look down, baby, look at how your needy cunt soaks my cock,” Satoru urges. With a keening moan, your gaze drops to where his cock presses against your pussy.

Gripping his cock harder, he positions it at your clit and—when you feel him press his head against your throbbing, engorged clit—you can’t help but let out a strangled moan. Satoru lets out a low hiss, the hardened bundle of nerves throbbing intoxicatingly against his slit. The surreptitious motion stimulates his cock, causing more of his precum to leak out. Moaning in ecstasy, you feel your throat tighten when his warm arousal drips over your clit, coating the swollen bud in more of his stickiness. Squirming over him, you begin rocking your clit against his tip, dragging it back and forth as you try to stimulate yourself.

“That’s it, be a good cockslut and rub that pretty little cunt over me. Get it nice and wet so I can fuck open your wet pussy,” Satoru orders.

Mewling in pleasure, you do as he says, repeatedly grinding your throbbing bud into his oozing cockhead. Agonisingly, the entrance to your cunt quivers—your entire sex weeping for him to fill you up.

“Fuck me,” you gasp out. Satoru only hums noncommittally, moving both hands to grip at your hips.

“Hmmm, I don’t think you’re ready. I don’t think you want it enough,” Satoru purrs—the low vibrations of his voice shooting straight to your core. Shaky breaths falling from your lips, you squirm harder on top of him.

“I do! I want it so bad. S’toru, please, fuck me. Want to feel your cock in me,” you croon desperately.

Dark chuckles resounding through the air, the sound heavy with dominance, Satoru positions his cock at your entrance. Feeling him press his cock against your entrance—just enough to tease, but not enough to enter you—you cry out in pleasure. Responsively, the tight rings of muscles clench, trying to pull him further into you.

Laughingly lowly, “God, I can feel your tight little cunt clenching. Are you desperate for my cock, pretty girl?” Satoru asks, the inflexion of his voice dripping with taunt.

“Yes. Yes. Want it,” you reply, unhesitant.

Pressing his cock harder against your entrance, Satoru grips your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking his cock into you. Desirous mews and whimpers fall from your lips; tears sting your eyes as your boyfriend continues to tease you. Every passing moment has the heat in your stomach growing wilder and wilder—until wanton desire courses through your bloodstream, overtaking your entire being.

“Are you sure, baby? You want it?” Satoru coos, the taunt heavy in your voice.

He drops his head to your chest, his lips wrapping around your bra-clad nipple. Lazily, your boyfriend laves at the hardened bud—wetting the fabric of your bra as he teases your nipple. His action draws a hoarse cry from deep within your throat; your voice cracks for a moment.

“Yes. Yes. Please. Please, I’ll do anything, Toru, please,” you gasp out, your hips once again squirming on top of him. Satoru chuckles lowly, the sound laced with a sinister inclination.

“Anything? Are you sure, baby?” Satoru questions.

The mischievous intonation of his voice should alarm you, and if your mind wasn’t hazed with desire, if you weren’t so incredibly fucked out and desperate, it would have. But right now, driven to the brink of insanity by Satoru’s teasing, you can’t bring yourself to care. It doesn’t matter what he has in store for you, doesn’t matter what Satoru choose to do, you’ll take anything he gives you and more; especially if it means Satoru fucks you right here, right now.

“Yes. Yes. Please. Anything. Anything, Toru, please just fuck me,” you sob, your dry throat straining to force the words out.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into, do you, sweet girl?” Satoru questions. However, you barely register his words. Instead, pleasure thrums through your breast—the vibrations of Satoru’s words shooting straight to your core.

“Don’t care! Don’t care. Fuck me. Want your cock. Toru, please, just fuck me. Please. Please, please, please,” you repeat over and over again.

Arms struggling behind your back, you futilely tug at the restraints as you try to free yourself. At least if they were free you could hold onto his shoulders and fuck yourself onto his cock. You feel Satoru smirk against your tit, and then suddenly, he’s pushing your hips down. Feeling the intense pressure of his flared cockhead against your entrance, your mouth drops open in a silent scream.

Satoru was right, you weren’t ready for him—because two weeks may not seem like a long time, but it is. It is when he’s huge—ridiculously long and absurdly thick—and you’re far too small to take him when you haven’t felt him stretch you out in days. And it’s been so long that despite how wet you are, how wet his cock is, he still struggles to open you out. Nonetheless, unrelentingly, Satoru presses into you—his hands pushing your hips down onto his cock—and eventually, he pops into you.

The moment his head breaches your walls—you throw your head back and let out a strangled wail. He’s incredibly thick inside you, the ringed muscles that make up your entrance pulled thin around him. Eyes slipping shut, you moan in a mix of pain and pleasure, relishing in the delicious burn of him stretching you out. Ruthlessly, he pushes the rest of him into you, ignoring your cries of ‘Too much’ and ‘Slower’ as the taut flesh of your inner walls is forcibly pulled apart around his hard length. Thich inch by inch, he fucks his cock into you; refusing to stop until he’s buried into the hilt. Then, roughly pulling your hips onto him, he sinks the last few inches into you in one sudden movement—burying himself into your cunt to the hilt.

Wired beyond belief, pleasure consumes you, the veined ridges of his cock hitting every erogenous spot inside your cunt. When the blunt tip of his cockhead hits the back of your supple cervix, a high-pitched wail tears through you. Toes curling, your thighs begin trembling violently as you suddenly cum around his cock. Back contorting violently, your fingers grip your own wrists behind your back as you sob out his name. Orgasm rocketing through you out of the blue, you vehemently convulse over your boyfriend. Over and over again, you cry out his name, twisting and writhing as blinding ecstasy courses through you. It’s been so long since you’ve had a decent orgasm, that the intensity of your first one has your vision blurring, thick tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Fucking cockslut,” Satoru hisses. “Did you just cum from being fucked open on my cock? Fuck—you got so much tighter,” Satoru harshly grunts out.

Then, without waiting any longer, he begins fucking into you from underneath. Gripping at your hips, he rams his cock upward, pulling you down harshly onto him. With each motion, your own orgasm is drawn out—making you cry out his name loud, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Cunt rippling around him, you milk his shaft—Satoru forcing himself into your erratically tightening and untightening walls. Viciously, you convulse as you cum over your boyfriend; Satoru groans when thick rivulets of your cum begin flowing down his cock. The additional wetness adds to the mess between your thighs, and only aids his motions, his cock slippery enough to batter into you.

Through it all, you let the tide of our orgasm wash through you, drifting on its wave of euphoria as it drowns you in nothing but utter, unadulterated ecstasy. Reduced to a sobbing, quivering mess on top of your boyfriend, you heave for air as you try to satiate the burn in your lungs. Ceaselessly, however, Satoru fucks into you—refusing to give you any reprieve from his cock.

Coming down from your high, you whine as you feel the blunt head of Satoru’s cock enter your pussy—over and over again—as he impales you onto his cock. His thrusts are forceful, your body jerking up and down over him. With every movement, you struggle against your restraints harder—wanting to dig your fingers into his shoulder blades as he bounces you onto his cock. Instead, you settle for falling over him, your head resting on your shoulder, and your face pressed into his neck.

All of a sudden, Satoru spanks your ass, causing you to cry out.

“Sit up, I want you to ride my cock,” Satoru commands.

Limply, you pull yourself off of him, Satoru’s head immediately dipping to take one of your nipples into his mouth. Gathering your strength, you plant your feet firmly on the ground before flexing your thighs as you begin to ride him. The both of you hiss; your bodies writhing harder together.

Every time he impales his cock into you, you feel the ridges of his cock drag against your sensitive inner walls, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Sensitivity still grips at your sex, the ache of overstimulation only turning you on more. With a swivel of your hips, you bring yourself down onto his cock harder—both of you gasping when the motion causes his cockhead to slam against the back walls of your pussy. He’s so deep inside you, that there’s an intense, nauseating, pressure inside your stomach, and the back of your cunt throbs, Satoru relentlessly battering your cervix.

“H-Harder. W-want you to f-fuck me, h-harder,” you stutter out.

His pace is already intense, your entire body bouncing on top of him as you take him deep inside you. Still, you voluntarily clench around his cock, purposely tightening your walls against his shaft as you beckon him deeper.

“Harder? You want it harder?” Satoru asks, causing you to hastily nod.

Throat tight, and mind addled with pleasure, you can barely string together a coherent sentence. Rather, you push your hips harder into his, undulating them over his cock. Satoru grunts when you clamp down around him again.

“Fuck. Hold on, princess, I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Satoru breathes out, emphasising each word with a brutal thrust, his cockhead dragging against your sweet spot.

Eyes rolling into the back of your skull, “Please, want it,” you gasp out, white spots already blinding your vision again.

“Oh, I know you do. Love when I fuck you hard and fast like this, don’t you baby. Love when I fuck you dumb; leave you a speechless, quivering mess, don’t you, baby?” Satoru derides. Again, your throat tightens, your toes curling in pleasure as he purposely, vehemently, drags his head against your g-spot before battering it into your cervix.

“Yessssss, want you to use me, please,” you hiss. Satoru grips your hips tighter.

“Is that what you want, my sweet girl? Do you want me to use you as my own personal cocksleeve? Cum inside and fill you up?” Satoru gibes. Fingers flexing behind your back, you whimper out—the walls of your sex clenching around his throbbing shaft.

“Say it, I want you to say it. Tell me what you want,” Satoru hisses out, his hand coming down onto your ass hard. The sharp pain has you wailing out his name, Satoru soothingly rolling the cheek in his palm.

“W-Want you to u-use me as your c-cocks-sleeve, pleeeassse,” you mewl. Again, out of the blue, Satoru spanks you; your back contorting in euphoria.

“Then hold on slut, I’m going to use this tight little cunt however I want. You’re here for my pleasure now,” Satoru whispers against your ear, his words low and gravelly.

“S’toru, wanna cum again,” you slur out. Satoru only chuckles at that.

“You either cum from me fucking you, or you don’t cum at all. Don’t forget, you asked for this. Said I could do anything,” Satoru replies.

Then, one hand gripping your wrists, the other curling around your waist, Satoru pulls you flush against him. Using your weight to brace himself, Satoru increases his pace. Viciously slamming into you from underneath, the thick of his girth spreading your soft, sensitive walls around his cock with each rapid stroke. Immediately, your mouth falls open as you begin wailing out his name.

Blindly, your fingers flex for some sort of purchase, but with them tied up, you find none. Thus, helpless, your body bounces over Satoru—jolted up and down onto his cock—as he uses you in the way you had asked for. Hips surging into you from above, he batters your cunt, the ringed muscles releasing another gush of wetness. Euphoria tingles at your spine, your entire body heating as you feel your second orgasm thrum through you. However, without any stimulation to your clit, you can’t bring yourself to cum.

Instead, you teeter over the edge, your orgasm practically taunting you with every one of Satoru’s deep, hard thrusts. Between the friction of his jeans rubbing against the bottom of your thighs, and the way his cock repeatedly plunges into your silken depths, tears of pleasure sting your eyes. Eyelids screwing shut, the tears gathered in them begin to spill down, and you sob out his name—the ecstatic bliss of euphoria causing you to grow mad with lust.

You’re so close, but you know you can’t cum. Not without his permission, and definitely not without him playing with your clit.

“Toru, wanna c-cum,” you once again croon out. Again, Satoru brings his hand harshly onto your ass, the soft muscle smarting with pain.

“And I told you, you either cum from being used like my cocksleeve, or you don’t cum at all,” Satoru responds. Through it all, his pace doesn’t falter for a single moment.

You feel Satoru’s cock pulsate inside you—the rhythm falling out of place—and when he swells with a throb, you feel despair course through you. You know your boyfriend well enough to know he’s close, and if he cums before you do, you won’t cum at all. Vigour renewed by your realisation, you squirm over him, trying your hardest to grind your clit into his abdomen, or the open zipper of his jeans resting on either side of his cock.

“Fuck—I’m cumming,” Satoru groans as he thrusts into you with reckless abandon. “You’re gonna take it, aren’t you, baby? Gonna lemme fill up this tight, pretty little cunt with my cum? Fuck I know you will. Your cunt always looks so pretty when it’s sloppy with my cum.” His words have you moving in a frenzy, thrashing your hips against his abdomen as you futilely try to stimulate your own clit.

However, it’s all in vain, because swivelling your hips in his hands, Satoru rocks you further onto him. Then, all of a sudden, he pulls you down with one, fluid motion. The action has him burying his cock as deep as he can into you, and you find yourself winded—his blunt cockhead pushing painfully deep against your cervix. Satoru grinds his cock into you, using your cunt to sheath the entirety of his length: from tip to shaft.

“Fuck.” With a low groan, Satoru cums.

His cock pulsates inside you, swelling a little as it releases rope after rope of his cum into you. Feeling his warm seed flood your depths, you wail out his name, desperately needing to cum. Nonetheless, Satoru ignores you. Instead, he continues spilling inside you, thick pools of his cum gathering deep against your cervix, painting your inner walls white. Warmth fills you from the inside, and with the sheer amount he’s cum inside you, you wonder if he, like you, hasn’t had a good orgasm in a while.

“Toru—Toru, please,” you sob dryly.

Frustrated tears flow freely down your face, your words almost garbled and unintelligible as you plead for an orgasm. High-pitched keen slipping from your throat, you writhe against him harder; your thighs flex as you try bouncing your ass on his cock again—urgently chasing your own orgasm. Fingers digging into the flesh of your ass—hard enough that you know he’s bruised you—Satoru halts your motion, using his strength against you.

Satoru pulls away from your neck to look at your face. He takes in the sight of you, your eyelids teary, half-lidded and completely fucked out. He trails over the tear stains over your cheeks, your lips bruised and swollen, the precum he’d swiped on them dried out by now. Leaning up, he gently kisses your cheeks, his tongue swiping up to lick at the salty trails of your tears.

“Beg for it,” Satoru sneers.

“Please,” you breathe out. You look up at him through the thick of your lashes, your doe-like, teary eyes and swollen, precum-stained lips causing Satoru to groan.

“That’s my sweet girl,” Satoru praises.

Immediately, he retreats from your cunt, ignoring your moans of displeasure. Satoru draws up to his full height, easily lifting you up in his arms, before manoeuvring your trembling body so you’re bent over his desk. The side of your head rests on the table, cheek pressed against the wood, and bracing your feet on the ground, you thrust your hips back into him—chasing any form of friction.

Gripping your hips, Satoru holds your ass up and then, in one smooth thrust, he’s completely buried in you. With how rough he’s just fucked you, paired with his cum staining your walls and your own wetness, he should slide in easily. Nonetheless, the abrupt intrusion has you howling out, his girth splitting you apart once more as he leaves you no time to adjust. It’s too much all at once, your hips jerking forward as you try to pull away from him.

Satoru’s fingertips dig into your hips, holding your ass flush against his hips, and you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain, your walls throbbing around his vascularised length. The uncontrollable clenching of your walls only highlights how incredibly big he is, his length buried so deep inside you, the head of his cock once again sits flat against your cervix. His sudden thrust has his cum spilling out of you, milky white rivulets smearing his cock, dripping down his balls, and onto your thighs.

“Fuck, baby. Always so tight for me like this,” Satoru moans, his hand coming down to spank your ass in tandem. The sharp impact has your hips jerking, a moan tearing from your throat. Satoru’s head falls back, revelling in the way your cunt tightens around him.

“Toru, move,” you urge, your hips squirming under his. Satoru bends over your back, his clothed chest pressing into your bare back.

“Who knew my Kitten was so cock-hungry?” Satoru purrs against your ear, emphasising his words with a deep thrust.

Your thighs shake and you fall further onto the table, your hands splaying on either side as your chest presses flat against the surface. Drawing back up to his height, Satoru begins thrusting hard into you. Over and over, he plunges his cock into you. His pace isn’t fast as before, but with his feet anchored to the ground, his thrusts are somehow more forceful, deeper. With every forward drive of his hips, your entire body jolts, your own hips digging into the edge of the table with how hard he impales you.

“Too—Too much,” comes your strained protest. Nonetheless, Satoru only laughs derisively behind you. One of his hands moves from your hips, caressing up the delicate curve of your spine and up to your neck, only for his fingers to curl into the roots of your hair. Tugging harshly, he forces you to arch your neck, your back bending in unison.

“Isn’t this what you asked for, princess? Begged me to use you as a cocksleeve, said you’d do anything just as long as I fucked you,” Satoru sneers, the derisiveness in his voice causing your skin to flash with heat. A deep, throaty mew is your only response, your brain unable to form words anymore. When you don’t respond, Satoru pulls your hair once again, simultaneously driving his hips forward in a brutal thrust.

“Hnnn—Deep, too deep, S’toru,” you gasp, your words slightly slurred. The pain of his cockhead battering into the walls of your cervix intermingles with the way his veiny cock strokes every nerve ending inside your cunt.

“I told you to be good for me, sweetheart. I asked you a question, I expect an answer” Satoru hisses, his fingers uncurling from your hair to spank your ass instead.

“Yes! I-It’s what I w-wanted,” you choke out, your voice faltering. Satoru caresses your tender cheek, a hum of approval tremoring from deep within his chest as he feels the heat of pain emanate from your flesh. Then, hand trailing down to your thigh, he grips your flesh before manoeuvring it to rest on the desk, your knee bending with the action.

In your new position, Satoru can press deeper into you, your wet, tumescent cunt peeking from between the apex of your thighs. Satoru’s lips curl sardonically before he swivels his hips. The rolling motion shifts the angle of his shaft inside you and you sob out his name once again. His entire length is hot inside you, the shaft throbbing rhythmically—completely different from the way your own walls ripple erratically. With a hard thrust, Satoru angles his cock to brush against your g-spot as he slides in. Instantly, you screech out his name, your thighs quivering violently.

Ruthlessly, he abuses your cunt—his cockhead brushes against your g-spot with every plunge of his cock. Dark eyes roam over your helpless form, Satoru watching as your muscles tremble almost imperceptibly from pleasure. Every time he impales his cock inside you, you jerk forward, only for him to pull you back onto his shaft. Each movement causes your sensitised, lace-clad nipples against the smooth wood—drawing out further sensations of pleasure as you gradually grow delirious.

Satoru’s hands move to drop to your ass, and thumbs pressing into the fleshy cheeks, he spreads them apart. A throaty groan resounds through the air, Satoru’s cerulean eyes fixating immediately onto the way your tumid cunt is stretched thin around his girth, how your wetness—mixed with his cum—leaks out of you and onto his cock, your thighs, his balls, with every thrust; and just above it all, is your tiny little asshole, the puckered rim twitching with pleasure.

Unable to stop himself, Satoru spreads them further apart, only to bend down slightly and spit. Instantly, you feel the warm wetness trail down the seam of your ass and onto your asshole, a small whimper resounding from your throat. Ignoring you, Satoru traces the puckered ring, relishing in the way it trembles under his touch. Then, running his fingers through your soaked slit, he gathers as much of your sticky arousal and his cum onto his middle finger, and with featherlight touches, he circles your asshole before dipping the tip of his finger into you, the muscles reflexively tightening to deny him entrance.

“Ah—Toru,” you hiss, the intrusion causing your stomach to clench.

“Relax, baby. It’s not the first time I’ve used this tight little hole, is it?” Satoru orders. Taking a deep breath, you will yourself to relax, Satoru groans when his finger slides in easily, the intrusion aided by the excessive amount of slick that coats his digit. When he’s buried knuckle deep into your ass he stills, the hot muscles clenching tightly around his appendage. Experimentally, he wiggles his finger inside you and you let out a heavy moan of pleasure.

“That’s it. Only filthy whores like you enjoy having their asses played with, don’t they, princess?” Satoru ribs, his voice mocking as he thrusts his finger deeper into your asshole. Whimpering, you only nod your head—your mind clouded with ecstasy from the feeling of your boyfriend’s finger inside your ass, while the head of his cock is still burrowed in your cunt.

When you don’t reply, Satoru pulls his finger out, only to shove both his middle and pointer finger into you this time. Blissed out, your pliant asshole initially stretches readily to let him in, however, the moment they probe further, the muscles clench involuntarily. Unhindered by the sudden contraction—more than used to loosening up the tight hole for his use—Satoru thrusts both his fingers hilt deep into you, before curling them and stroking the sensitive nerves inside your ass.

“Fuck! Toru,” you cry out, your hips jerking to pull away from him.

“Say it,” he hisses before swivelling his cock, the movement causing him to expertly stroke your sweet spot.

“O-Only filthy whores like me enjoy having their asses played with,” you cry out in pleasure.

Humming in approval behind you, Satoru begins fucking into you once again, his cock thrusting in and out of you, his fingers mimicking the rhythm as he forces them into your ass.

“S’toru—” you whimper.

This time, your voice is incredibly low and nearly inaudible; almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his cock fucking into your cum sodden cunt and the slapping of his skin against yours. Taking pity on you, Satoru leans over and presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. It’s a warming gesture, one meant to comfort you. However, the movement forces him slightly deeper into you making you jerk.

“Toru!” you sob.

“Fuck—cum for me, pretty girl,” Satoru orders.

As he speaks, the hand spreading your ass cheek moves to curl around your body before two fingers press against your clit. A strained sob escapes your lips as the sudden pleasure hurtles you off the edge. Body quaking, you wail out his name, the sound coming out more like a strangled groan as your throat strains under the sound. Satoru hisses, his jaw clenching as he feels you clamp down impossibly tight around his girth. Emboldened by your orgasm, he wildly thrusts both his cock, and his fingers, into you, drawing out the delirious pleasure that ricochets through your body.

“Fuck yes, that’s it sweet girl, cum around my cock,” Satoru urges.

All of a sudden, he rips out the fingers in your ass, using the hand instead to press into your back as he ruts his cock into you. The abrupt exit of his digits has you yelping, your slightly gaping hole clenching around nothing as Satoru thrusts into you with reckless abandon. The fingers toying with your clit increase in their vigour, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. Under him, your thighs tremble, your toes curling as he draws out your pleasure.

“Cum again. Fuck, cum again. Wanna feel you milk my cum out my cock,” Satoru commands.

“N-No, c-can’t. Too much,” you refute with a sob, your head shaking as your eyes screw shut. Satoru laughs mockingly at your weeping form.

“You begged me to cum, cried for it like a desperate slut. So cum,” he orders, his fingers rolling and pinching your tumid bundle of nerves. Simultaneously, his cock pierces into you, his bulbous head dragging against the sensitive tissue of your sweet spot.

With an ear-splitting wail, you cry out his name as your body locks. Ecstasy suddenly rockets through you, hurtling you over the precipice and sending you diving head first into your orgasm once more. Drawing into yourself, your body curls and shudders under him as you quietly sob. Your walls contract painfully, Satoru hissing at how you tighten around him.

“Fuck—fuck,” Satoru groans out.

The vehement rippling of your walls milks his shaft as he begins chasing his own high. A lewd squelching fills the air, the sloppy sounds of your cum-filled, dripping pussy loud in the night. Through it all, Satoru continues plunging into you, heightening your climax, and soon, the pain of overstimulation ripples through your over-stimulated sex. Through your desire-clouded mind, you vaguely register the burning ache that passes through you.

“N-No more. S’toru, please, too much, hurts,” you slur from underneath him, unable to articulate a coherent form of thought from the unbridled euphoria that clouds your mind. Relentless in his pursuit of his own pleasure, however, Satoru continues toying with your clit, revelling in the way the messy, wet walls of your cunt erratically tighten around him.

“Fuck, you can do it, sweet girl. Wanna cum deep in you while you milk my cock,” Satoru softly coaxes. When he pinches your clit once more, you scream out his name.

Pleasure blurs your vision, and eyes screwing shut, white-spots blind the darkness of your mind. Abruptly, the knot within your stomach unravels, and feeling the sudden relief spread through your abdomen, you’re forced over the precipice of blissful ecstasy once again. Jaw slackening, your mouth falls open and your throat strains as you force out a silent cry. Without warning, your walls tighten—almost painfully—around Satoru’s cock, the forceful contractions causing pelt after pelt of your cum to gush out of you. When he feels wetness pelt against the material of his slacks, Satoru groans, realising you’ve squirted all over him and his desk.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Satoru hisses.

Satoru’s hands move to grip your ass cheeks, and forces them apart, his eyes dropping to where his girth splits you open. Then, with two stuttered thrusts, he impales his cock as deep as he can into you, his balls tightening. For a second time that night, his thick cum floods inside you, shooting out of his length and straight against your cervix. Through the overstimulated fog of ecstasy, you feel the torrent of his seed pour into you, your womb overwhelmed with his warmth.

While your body uncontrollably spasms—your muscles still reeling with the aftershocks of your orgasm—you slowly come to. Drifting back to reality, the high of your climax ebbs into a post-orgasmic haze. Breath laboured, the two of you heave for air as you stay completely still. Feeling the dryness of your throat, you swallow thickly in a bid to soothe the raw muscles.

As your mind slowly clears, the inescapable warmth of Satoru’s cum within your belly becomes apparent. You whine softly, relishing in the comforting sensation. Behind you, Satoru stays buried deep inside you, hips moving imperceptibly as he rides out the aftershocks of his own climax. When the erratic clenching of your walls becomes too much, Satoru hisses in overstimulation before drawing out.

As he pulls his cock out from your depths, you whimper, his bulbous cockhead stroking against your over-sensitised walls. The head retreats with a slight pop, your hips jerking when your tender walls stretch around his tip once more, before you’re left empty. You lay limply on the table, your entire body trembling. Gasping for air, you try to catch your breath, your muscles involuntarily twitching.

Satoru flops onto his chair, a groan of appreciation emanating from his throat. In your position, bent over his desk, you’re completely bared for him, ass and cunt on display. Your raw, abused sex drips with a mixture of cum, the sloppy essence spilling out of you are your cunt clenches around nothing. Unable to help himself, Satoru caresses your folds, two fingers stroking up your slit and toward your entrance. Gathering up his cum that had spilled out of you onto his digits, he presses them into your gaping entrance, pushing his seed back inside you.

“S’toru, sensitive,” you whine, your hips sluggishly squirming in a bid to pull away from him.

Satoru rolls closer to you, presses a soft kiss to your ass cheek in an apology. Pulling his fingers out, he reaches out for you. Strong arms circle your waist and, gathering you within his embrace, Satoru pulls your boneless form onto his lap. You settle into your boyfriend, your back flush against his chest as your head rests against his shoulder.

“God, I fucking missed you,” Satoru sighs. He nuzzles his face into your neck, lavishing the delicate column with tender kisses.

“Missed you too,” you reply, your voice hoarse. Snuggling further into him, you allow his scent to wash over you and exhale in contentment. After a few short moments, you tilt your head to the side and look up at him.

“So, where’s my surprise?” you question, your eyebrow cocking. Satoru chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest and into your back.

“It’s inside you right now,” he smirks in response, arrogance dripping in his voice. You frown, confusion painting your features as you attempt to make sense of his words. Then, realisation dawns upon you, your eyes narrowing instantly.

“Gojo Satoru, was my surprise your fucking cum?” you screech, only to wince when your aching, dry throat protests the sound.

“Told you you’d love it,” Satoru grins.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you scowl.

Satoru’s only response is to laugh in that annoying, purposely high-pitched tone of his.

a/n: this is my first fic in a while and i am probably v rusty with my writing but i hope you all enjoyed it :)

m.list

#jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x female reader #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic #mdni #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru smut

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dmitriene · 1 year ago

Text

— racing hearts.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «got a ride that's smoother than a limousine»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌«can you handle the curves? can you run all the lights?»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌«if you can, baby boy, then we can go all night»

summary: you both run into the same events every year and it always ends the same way, but tonight has changed everything tremendously. content: biker! carlos oliveira x biker! fem reader tags: comfort, teasing, slightly rude carlos, smut, nsfw, unprotected p in v, fingering, marking, pet names. author's note: had to make something spicy for the spiciest boy in the world, so here is the first work with carlos! enjoy your reading) 🏍️ (18+ warning)

The heart of the city hummed with electrified energy as the sun dipped below the horizon painting the cityscape a warm golden hue, the evening air was fresh and refreshing, it smelled of moisture from a recent rain, the heartbeat of the city throbbed in the streets, a symphony of distant conversations, car horns and rhythmic footsteps.

Neon signs adorned the facades of buildings, throwing bright splashes of color onto the sidewalks, the lights danced and flickered, creating an almost surreal atmosphere, contrasting with the gathering dusk, the reflection of these neon lights on the wet pavement created a fabulous shimmering effect that gave the surroundings a sense of magic.

As the racers and spectators began to gather, the atmosphere filled with anticipation, the city center turned into a makeshift arena where excitement and competition merged, the distant hum of revving engines echoing through the streets, punctuated by bursts of laughter, animated conversation, and the occasional burst of music from a nearby bar.

The smells of street food hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of wet asphalt, food vendors lined the sidewalks, offering a delicious variety of flavors to the hungry crowd, the mixture of flavors — savory, sweet and spicy — adding an extra layer of sensual richness to the evening.

Crowds began to gather, forming a colorful mosaic of faces, each exuding a unique combination of excitement, curiosity and enthusiasm, friends trading stories and laughing, their camaraderie testifying to the community that had formed around this annual event, cameras and smartphones were raised ready to capture the breathtaking moments that are about to unfold.

The city lights, now fully lit against the darkening sky, cast a warm and inviting glow that engulfed riders and spectators alike, tall buildings, each with its own history and secrets, seemed to come to life in the evening light, their architectural details highlighted by the play of shadows and illuminations.

As the last rays of the sun faded over the horizon, the city turned into a vibrant, bustling stage, the inevitable start of the race hung in the air like a charged promise, uniting everyone with a shared sense of joy, the evening took on a life of its own, a celebration of rivalry, camaraderie, and the boundless possibilities of a cityscape at dusk.

The soft thump of raindrops continued to fall from the trees from time to time, creating a soothing atmosphere, reaching the designated starting point you stopped your motorcycle, the roar of the engine subsided as you surveyed the area.

The midtown area was a mixture of old and new — historical buildings side by side with modern skyscrapers, this varied backdrop added a unique charm to the upcoming race, an urban battlefield where past and present coexisted.

Taking a moment to appreciate the atmosphere, you dismounted, the distant roar of the engines and the excited murmurs of the riders filling the air — a harmonious combination of anticipation and camaraderie, the energy was palpable, seeping into every corner of the street.

With focused determination, you set about preparing the bike for the race.

You unbuttoned your leather jacket to reveal a black jersey and fastened your helmet in place, every move deliberate, a ritual that signified your commitment to the race, you checked your tire pressures, ran your fingers over the smooth curves of your bike, and adjusted the handlebars to your liking.

Amidst the quiet focus, a group of people in the distance caught your attention, your gaze rested on Carlos Oliveira, surrounded by his friends and a few enthusiastic fans, his casual confidence and the way he effortlessly attracted attention was hard to miss.

You couldn't help but smirk, your competitive spirit was rising as you watched this scene, it seemed that wherever Carlos went, he was accompanied by magnetic energy — an energy that involved the two of you in countless races and exciting moments, with a playful gleam in your eyes, you leaned against the bike, crossed your arms and called him.

— «Carlos! So, have you finally decided to show up?» your voice was shot through with a teasing tone that matched the ongoing banter between the two of you.

Carlos turned, his smile flashing as he met your eyes — «Ah, i was wondering when you were coming, couldn't resist the temptation to compete with me, are you?»

You laughed, and an understanding spark flashed in your eyes — «You know me too well, i just wanted to make sure you didn't chicken out»

Carlos raised an eyebrow, feigning resentment — «Chicken out? Please, i was born for this»

The exchange of biting phrases was light hearted, a mixture of rivalry and mutual respect, continuing to joke, you could not help but notice the admiring glances of Carlos' fans, their presence only strengthened your determination to prove yourself on the race track, to show that you are more than just a competitor.

With a final smirk, you straightened up and gave Carlos a defiant look — «I think we'll see who comes out on top, right?»

Carlos' laughter echoed through the air as he playfully saluted you — «May the best biker win)»

As you turned your attention back to your bike, the excitement of the upcoming race surged, the midtown area transformed into a battlefield of anticipation, a place where the excitement of the competition and the race are about to collide in a symphony of speed and determination.

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The atmosphere of the race was electrified, charged with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, the night air was cool and refreshing, the lingering smell of rain made everything clean and invigorating, empty trails stretched ahead, their asphalt glittering in the soft light of street lamps, the city lights flickered in the distance, casting off warm and an alluring glow against the night sky.

As the riders lined up, their bikes revved with a raucous roar, the tension in the air was palpable, the energy was both intense and serene, a combination of competitive spirit and the soothing coolness after rain, a light breeze promising adventure, and the smell of damp earth mingling with the faint scent of gasoline.

The absence of other vehicles on the road added to the feeling of loneliness and intimacy, creating a space where the riders could focus solely on the excitement of the race, the distant rumble of the city and the rhythmic purr of the engines merged into a symphony of speed and anticipation, the stillness of the night was broken from time to time by the cheerful chatter between the riders, their camaraderie broke through the tense concentration.

Carlos Oliveira started his powerful motorcycle, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his heart pounding not only from adrenaline, but also from the anticipation of meeting his most ferocious rival — you, a mysterious, but in his opinion charming biker.

You, a seasoned biker with a confident air, were grinning as you straddled your sleek bike, looking up at Carlos, the playful rivalry between the two of you was no secret, your teasing jokes echoing through the air as the engines roared around you.

— «Hey Carlos! Will you be able to keep up this time, or will i have it easier with you?» you shouted with a mischievous gleam in your eyes.

Carlos chuckled, his smile matched your challenge — «Oh dear, you're going to eat my dust without even noticing it»

With a wave of the flag, the race began, engines roared across the asphalt, and you and Carlos raced past the starting line, side by side you exchanged competitive glances, the wind blew your hair, the miles flew by unnoticed as you made your way through traffic, every daring maneuver met with a response from Carlos.

As the race progressed, your closeness to each other allowed you to exchange playful lines — «Be careful, estimada, i wouldn't want you to cry when i win» teased Carlos over the roar of the engines.

You grinned as you leaned closer with your bike — «Don't be too self confident, handsome, you can just eat your words»

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The headlights of motorcycles pierced the darkness, creating streaks of light that painted a mesmerizing picture on the wet pavement, empty tracks allowed you to fully immerse yourself in the race, the outside world disappeared when the riders went beyond their limits.

Alternating stretches of open road and tight turns required quick reflexes and unwavering concentration, city lights served as beacons, guiding racers through turns and turns with their warm and soothing light, the coolness of the night air caressed the skin, contrasting with the warmth of the engines and adrenaline excitement.

As the riders moved forward, the rivalry and competition showed up in the way they maneuvered their bikes daring overtakes, tight corners, and skillful accelerations — yet, despite fierce competition, there was a camaraderie at the heart of racing that united their shared passion for the road.

The soft thump of raindrops still clinging to the leaves added a soothing rhythm to the symphony of the race, reminiscent of the recent downpour that had cleansed the city, the scent of petrichor mingled with the smell of burning rubber and exhaust fumes, creating a unique scent that hung in the air.

In this night race, desert tracks, distant city lights, cool weather after rain and general enthusiasm created an unforgettable atmosphere, it was a delicate balance between the serenity of the night and the unbridled energy of the race, a dance between competition and connection that played out under the gaze of the stars and the radiant cityscape.

As the race came to life, the competition became fierce, every biker took the turns with precision and determination, Carlos Oliveira and you were always shoulder to shoulder, every daring maneuver met with an equally daring response.

The city landscape unfolded wider before you, the city lights illuminated your path as you pushed your motorcycle to the limit, the applause from the audience and the distant hum of the engines was a symphony that accompanied the beating heart, the race was more than just a competition — it was a dance of skill, strategy and desire to win.

The stretch of road leading to the finish line drew closer, anticipation building in your chest, you knew it was the moment to make your move, with a burst of determination you shifted gear and accelerated, the wind rushed past as you approached Carlos.

The finish line was within sight and you could feel the power of your bike beneath you, responding to every command, with a burst of speed you rushed forward, the world blurred around you as you overtook Carlos, leaving him behind in a trail of dust and adrenaline.

The moment was surreal, a split-second triumph that resonated deep within you, the crowd's applause seemed distant as you crossed the finish line and victory sank into you, you did it — you beat Carlos Oliveira, a biker whose skill and reputation were legendary.

When you slowed down on your motorcycle, delight mixed with a sense of awe and disbelief, you proved yourself not only as a worthy opponent, but also as a person who could rise to the occasion and win, the finish line was not just a marker — it was a testament to your dedication and skill.

Carlos stopped next to you, surprise and admiration mixed in his grin — «Well, damn me, you really did it»

You laughed, still out of breath, adrenaline coursing through your veins — «I told you not to underestimate me»

Carlos shook his head, a certain admiration in his eyes — «Well, well, looks like you've got some surprises up your sleeve»

The realization that you had won, that you had surpassed Carlos Oliveira, the biker that you kind of admired and competed with for so long, filled you with a sense of accomplishment, the rivalry between you pushed you to new heights, and in that moment you felt even more deep connection with the world of racing.

᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

After an exciting race and your unexpected victory, the energy of the evening was still coursing through your veins as you found yourself alone with Carlos on the side of a remote night highway, as the race ended and the drivers dispersed, the bustling city atmosphere was left behind, giving way to the quiet solitude of the open road.

The distant lights of the city twinkled like stars on the horizon, casting a soft light on the surroundings, the cool night air wrapping you in a soothing embrace, in stark contrast to the intensity of the race, your heart was still pounding not only from the adrenaline of victory, but from the newfound intimacy between you and Carlos.

As you leaned against the bike, you caught Carlos eyes lingering on you, his usually confident demeanor seemed relaxed, a slight vulnerability hidden behind his playful appearance, the rivalry that fueled your relationship turned into something deeper, a connection that none of you could deny.

The moment stretched out, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words, and then, with a hint of a smile, Carlos approached you, his steps barely audible on the pavement, he stood exactly in front of you, his presence was soothing in the stillness of the night.

— «You surprised me there» acknowledged Carlos in a soft whisper — «I didn't expect you to beat me»

You chuckled, triumph and humility mixed in your tone — «Well, it's not always a matter of who's the fastest, right?»

Carlos nodded, his eyes did not flinch — «No, it's not»

— «And now what?» you asked, curiosity and invitation mixed in your voice.

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes did not flinch, apart from a slight smirk on his lips — «So, shall we celebrate your victory?»

The moonlight cast a soft glow as he closed the distance, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze, the world around you seemingly vanishing as you looked into his bottomless brown eyes.

The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that pulled you closer, his lips met yours sharply in a slow, gentle kiss, a careful exploration of the emotions that were building up beneath the surface, the touch was soft, unhurried, evidence of the vulnerability you both shared in that moment.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you seemed to disappear even deeper, the sound of passing cars and the distant rumble of the highway became a distant echo drowned out by the racing heartbeat, your fingers found their way to the collar of his jacket, the skin went cold from your touch as you pulled him closer, forcing him to spread his arms at your sides and pinch him near the bike.

Bending down, Carlos's lips touched the sensitive skin of your neck, his hot breath touches your ear, the stubble on his chin adds roughness to caresses, contrasting with the softness of his touch, his kisses are hungry and filled with desire, each of which leaves a trace of heat.

His hands roam your body in the most possessive way, squeezing your hips and pulling you closer to him, the roar of the motorcycle engine serving as the backdrop to the passionate encounter, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Carlos's lips find their way to your collarbone leaving a path of hot kisses on your skin, his touch is possessive, his hunger shows in every movement, the world around you is lost as you both penetrate the tension of the moment, the only sounds are the roar of the engine and the sighs of pleasure that escape from your lips.

Carlos' lips curve into a predatory smile as he hears your sigh of pleasure, the sound of your voice laced with desire only fuels his own arousal, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his touch becoming even more possessive.

He runs his lips along the curve of your neck, leaving behind a trail of hot kisses, his voice, rough and filled with lust, touches your ear.

— «Just like that, estimada» he mutters, his hot breath against your skin — «Let go and yield to me»

His fingers dig into your thighs, his touch borders on slight lustful pain, he enjoys the feeling of your body reacting to his dominance, your moans and sighs, which drive him even more into a state of arousal.

His lips sink to your collarbone, his teeth lightly touch your skin as he marks you as his own, his movements become more insistent, his desire for you consumes his every thought.

— «C-carlos, w-what if someone will see us?» you mumble confusedly and slightly unsure, although you have long felt a throb between your legs

Suddenly, Carlos's grip on your thighs tightens as he hears your concern, he pauses for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, the urgency in his touch subsides a bit as he considers your words.

His voice, filled with a mixture of lust and confidence, reaches your ears.

— «Don't worry, querida» he mutters in a low and rough voice — «No one will see us here, this road is deserted, and i am sure of it»

Carlos's hand, resting on the fly of your jeans, moves purposefully, his fingers deftly unbuttoning it, slowly lowering them down, revealing a teasing glimpse of your skin underneath.

He leans in, his lips touching the shell of your ear, his voice like a whisper.

— «I want you» he exhales, his tone filled with unbridled desire — «And i will not deny myself the pleasure of having you wherever we are»

His words are a mixture of domination and need, his actions are unwavering, he knows the risks involved, but the intensity of the moment outweighs any fears.

Carlos's fingers slide under the fabric of your jeans, his touch kindles a fire within you, his movements are deliberate, his touches are firm and skillful as he explores the depths of your desire.

His touch on your clothed clit brings out a low growl of arousal from deep within his chest, the feel of your body responding to his touch fueling his desire even more.

He continues to explore, his fingers tracing tantalizing patterns on the underpants that separate him from your most intimate parts, each touch precise and deliberate, designed to give you maximum pleasure.

His voice, filled with a mixture of dominance and desire, reaches your ears in a low, husky tone.

— «Does it feel good, sweetheart?» he mutters, his hot breath against your skin — «Tell me how much you want it»

Carlos's thumb gently presses against your clad clit, his touch teasingly close to where you crave it most, while his other hand still grips your thigh tightly, as if tying it to him.

He watches you intently, his deep brown eyes filled with a hunger that matches your own, as the anticipation of what's to come hangs heavily in the air, heightening the intensity of the moment.

— «P-please, Carlos..» you suddenly whine for yourself, fidgeting slightly in place and trying to feel more friction

Carlos's lips curve into a wicked smile as he hears your desperate plea, the sound of your whining only fueling the fire inside him further, pushing him closer to the edge of his own desire.

He lets go of your thigh, letting his hand slide under the fabric of your jeans, his fingers touching your hot body, feeling the wetness that has already accumulated between your thighs.

Carlos's touch is firm and confident as he begins to explore your most sensitive areas, his fingers dancing along your folds, teasing and testing your limits as he watches your reaction closely, his eyes filled with a mixture of domination and satisfaction.

— «You want that, don't you?» he growls, his voice oozing with arousal — «You want me to give you what you crave, cariño»

Carlos's thumb presses down on your clit, rubbing it in slow, circular motions that send waves of pleasure through your body, his other fingers go deeper, looking for the special spot that will drive you crazy.

Without warning, he plunges two fingers into your wetness, filling you completely, his pace is tireless, his movements are skillful and purposeful, he enjoys the sounds of your moans and sighs, the way your body trembles at his touch.

— «H-hmmgh! f-fuck.. pl-please, need something more.. more heavy..» you whined, throwing your head back, almost cumming from two fingers inserted inside your cunt

Carlos's eyes narrow in a mixture of amusement and satisfaction as he hears your desperate plea for more, your insatiable desire matching his own, fueling his need to please you even more.

He removes his fingers from your cunt, evoking a fleeting sense of loss, but his dominant nature demands that he give you what you crave.

Carlos's hand squeezes your waist in a quick motion and settles you comfortably on the leather seat, without hesitation he unzips his pants, releasing his hardened cock from the restrictions, he presses against your entrance teasingly, with the tip touching your wetness and folds.

— «Is that what you want?» he growls, and his voice is filled with unbridled desire — «My cock filling you completely?»

Carlos's grip on your waist tightens as he plunges into you in one swift motion, impaling you with his cock, the feeling of him filling you completely sends a wave of pleasure through your entire body.

His pace is tireless, his movements are strong and intense, each push is calculated to hit all the right points, bringing you closer to the abyss of pleasure.

— «F-fumgh! so g-good!» you moaned, arching dangerously in your spine and squeezing your legs around his waist to keep the balance, moaning uncontrollably and whining at the rolling feeling of heat in the lower abdomen.

His hand on your waist tightens as he feels you arching, your moans of pleasure fueling his own arousal, he enjoys the feel of your legs wrapping around his waist, the need for balance only reinforcing the raw connection between you.

Carlos continues his ruthless thrusts, each one penetrating deeper and affecting the most pleasant points inside your cunt, the sound of your moans and the feel of your body trembling next to him, only increase his own pleasure.

The feeling of heat in the lower abdomen is reflected in the growing pressure inside him, he feels that you are close to the edge, and intends to lead you there.

He leans in, his lips touching your ear as he speaks in a low, husky tone.

— «Come for me, f-fuckin' cum, mi encantadora» he growls, his voice filled with a mixture of authority and desire — «I want to feel how you unravel around me»

At the same time, Carlos's thrusts become even more intense, his pace relentless as he pushes you both to the limit of ecstasy.

The grip on your waist tightens as Carlos feels the clear signs of your imminent release, he feels your body tense, the walls around his cock tense, and it only pushes him closer to his own climax.

A hoarse moan escapes his lips as he feels the waves of pleasure run through your body, the feel of your muscles squeezing him tightly drives him crazy as well.

He enters you a few more times, overcoming the waves of your orgasm before he finds his own way out, with a low guttural growl he pours his cum into you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his own pleasure.

For a brief moment, the world around you disappears as you both float on waves of ecstasy, Carlos holding you tightly against him, your bodies pressing against each other as you both catch your breath.

— «I think i've found a new favorite way to spend my nights» he murmured low, leaving a smeared kiss on your temple

You laughed softly as you ran your fingers along the lines of the bike — «Who knew that rivalry could lead to this?»

Carlos leaned over in your body further, his voice was a low mutter — «Maybe there's more to us than just competing on the road, espléndido»

translate: estimada, cariño — dear / querita — darling / mi encantadora — my charming / espléndido — gorgeous.

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.

reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

#carlos oliveira #carlos oliveria x reader #carlos oliveria smut #carlos oliveira fic #carlos oliveira fluff #resident evil carlos #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira re3 #re3 remake #resident evil 3 x reader #resident evil 3 remake #[ ✒️july writing ]

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summercourtship · 2 years ago

Text

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter four: thirteen floors [part I]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 6063 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one

November fifth. Gotham Square Garden.

You held a notepad- the kind that detectives in movies used, the flip kind. You’d felt so cool and professional when you picked it up at a stationery store in the Midtown, so ready to take on this project.

You couldn’t remember, now, if you had gotten the notebook before or after the Riddler showed up in the city. You can’t imagine having been excited for the assignment otherwise, just some boring paper on the current mayoral race.

No, the Riddler made it important. So you must have bought it after he killed the Mayor. Maybe after he killed the Police Commissioner, when he was fully revealed to the public.

Even though it had only been a week since the murders began, it felt like a year had passed. You’d traveled all over downtown Gotham, going to events you normally wouldn’t have bothered with.

Your excitement for the assignment had dwindled a bit since the mayor’s funeral, since witnessing the large SUV crash through the wall of City Hall, since seeing Gil Coulson stumble out with a collar bomb strapped around his neck. You’d been escorted out in a hurry, but you craned your neck over the railing anyway, trying to get a better view before they took you out.

Your phone buzzed from inside your pocket, a notification from your friend’s group chat popping up on your screen. You scrolled back through the conversation, returning to the last message you’d read.

Gotham Girlies Marie: Hey what are you guys doing your final project on for the History of Gotham class? I need to have my proposal in by like last week and I’ve been obvi putting it off. Lisa: I’m doing mine of the history of women’s rights in the city Bridgit: Sick Bridgit: I’m doing some light research into the history of the mob in the city Bridgit: Gotta be careful tho, you know? Bridgit: can’t let them know im looking into them lol

You began typing out your response, tucking your notebook under your arm.

I guess mine is more current events but I’m doing it on the current election.

You paused, staring at the message, realizing that saying it was about the current election was kinda a misnomer. Because it wasn’t really about that anymore, was it?

Tho I guess it’s more about the Riddler now, right? Kinda changed the trajectory of the paper but oh well.

You hit send before sliding your phone back into your pocket. The reception wasn’t good at all in the Garden, and you didn't want to bother watching the message try to send for the next minute before it gave up and said it would try again later.

Instead, you looked around the space, your eyes eventually landing on the lighting fixture in the middle of the room. The large screens replayed the same few slides of messages, congratulating Bella for her win (as they should), advertising a pizza place, showing events coming to the Garden. Then your eyes slid upwards from the screen, attention caught by a small flicker of movement. Narrowing your eyes, you tried to figure out what you were seeing.

Huh.

Interesting.

There were people up there.

You couldn’t really make out their features, just their silhouettes and a glint as their outfits reflected the lights in the way that wet waterproof material does.

You remembered wondering if they were part of some maintenance crew, but what kind of maintenance crew would do work on election night or any other big event at the Garden? Shouldn’t that work be reserved for the times where the venue was empty? How unfortunate for them, to need to be all the way up there and doing god-knows-what when there’s a huge crowd below them-

You forget exactly when it truly began. You knew that you were looking up at them, trying to figure out what they were doing, but you had no idea what was going on down below at that moment. What you did remember next was the anarchy after the sharp pop-pop-popping sound began.

The first gunshot, aimed at Real herself, set off the expected chain reaction in the crowd.

Pushing, shoving. The very definition of chaos.

Bodies shoving themselves against you, everyone in FLIGHT mode and making a break for the exits. There was no way to fight it.

Everyone was trying to leave, trying desperately to blend in with the crowd, like they could meld their bodies together and become indestructible. Or at least unnoticeable. The goal was now to not make yourself an easy target to the shooters but there were so many men up there with so few places for you to hide.

You were fish in a barrel.

Glass shattered somewhere above you and you snapped your head backwards, trying to keep an eye on the gunmen while doing your best to remain safe, two seemingly impossible tasks. The large windows at the top of the venue had broken, shards of glass raining down like glittering meteors, but you couldn’t see how it had shattered. Maybe a bullet had ricocheted through the window. Why not, what else could make the night more terrifying?

“Get out of the way!” A man pushed you out of his path, causing you to lose your balance and stagger down a few steps before you completely fell down when you were pushed again by someone else. You caught yourself on your hands, rising up to a kneeling position.

People surrounded you on all sides, yet no one stopped to help you get back up. No one even looked at you on the floor, trying to find a way to stand in the claustrophobic conditions that refused to give way. Whenever you grabbed someone to try and pull yourself up, they yanked their hand back like your touch was a bullet from above.

A horrifying thought crossed your mind, then: what if you didn’t even die due to a gunshot but instead suffocated under the weight of all these bodies?

Somehow, through all of the chaos, you still held your stupid notebook, like it was your lifeline, like it would stop a bullet from piercing through your skin. But what good would a stack of paper do in a human crush? You didn’t know much about them so you had no idea if the crowd was too dense yet. Either way, you didn’t want to find out.

You’ve heard that in an emergency situation your body goes into autopilot, the primal instincts in your brain bypassing any logic and control you had, taking over to take you where you needed to go.

You didn’t feel that here. You felt completely in control and with that you felt completely powerless. You couldn’t pierce through the crowd of panicked people (an emergency pro-tip no one followed: stay calm) and you couldn’t squeeze yourself away from the crowd either (another emergency pro-tip: don’t make yourself an easy target).

You were stuck, kneeling on the floor as the crowd moved around you like a fluid. Eyes sliding closed, you figured that it wouldn’t be that bad to just stay here, right? Maybe you should just drown in the crowd, get it over with. You could allow your breath to be taken away from you, not worry about being shot anymore. Just keep your eyes closed and-

Two hands hooked under your armpits, yanking you back to your feet. Your eyes snapped open and you tried to look around you but whoever deemed you worthy of helping was gone, whisked away by the crowd.

You’d been on the floor for maybe a maximum of thirty seconds but it had seemed like an eternity and now you were back in the sea, moving where you were moved, jostling where you were jostled.

You were able to advance only a few steps when a low groaning reverberated through the Garden.

“Shit, it’s coming down!” A panicked voice hissed from behind you, and you spun around to look back up to the giant display screens. Which were now hanging on by a few (figurative) threads. But it was teetering, hanging at an angle that was certainly not meant to be. A few bodies were hanging from the catwalk, but distantly you could see the silhouette of someone… fighting.

The last thing you really remembered from the night was finally escaping the Garden, bursting through the doors and gasping in the chilly night air, gulping down breaths of it. Emergency vehicles lined the streets around the Garden, their swiveling lights casting blue and red shadows over the street. Blockades had been set up on every intersection around the Garden, crowds of worried citizens and shouting reporters huddled behind them. Police were shouting back, trying to maintain some sense of order.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Swiping past the few Breaking News notifications and campus alerts about the situation you’d just escaped were more texts from your group chat.

Gotham Girlies Marie: Yeah, this riddle shit is too much right now. Marie: *riddle Marie: *RIDDLER damn it Bridgit: omg Bridgit: there’s a shooting down at the garden rn Lisa: No way (Lisa tagged you in a text.) Lisa: Wait aren’t you down there right now?!

You closed the notifications after that, the blaise way Bridgit had delivered the news rubbing you the wrong way. Yeah, it had been a weird week, crime wise. At least Lisa remembered you’d been there in the first place. But you could respond in a few minutes, once you’d started to feel more like yourself again. They could handle that if their reaction to the news was equivalent to seeing a minor celebrity from a distance.

You managed to slip away from the Garden without being seen by any of the medics called to the scene. From later pictures of the exterior, you saw that Batman had helped some of the victims, but he mostly helped with hauling the perpetrators out. And they were all dressed eerily similar.

The news the next day confirmed what you had already suspected. The Riddler had planned the attack in Gotham Square Garden. Not just that, but he’d planned to flood the city- and he almost did it. But the Batman had stopped it, and had kept the bombs from blowing up the sea-wall and drowning Gotham.

The image your mind supplied you of water rushing through the streets, overpowering everything in its wake, chilled you to your core.

You had your first nightmare that night- you had none the night it had actually happened. Your body was floating in murky water, the flood pressing against you on all sides, a constant overwhelming pressure. You tried to breathe but the water filled your lungs instead and now you couldn’t even scream out for help.

And you were drowning

By the time the EMTs had cleared you to be taken home and the police were done with whatever needed to be done, it was well into the next morning, the sun hidden behind the clouds as it rose, starting to color the sky a dull gray. Snow had started to accumulate on the ground but it hadn’t even lasted until the morning without being trodden on, the once white sheet mussed and colored gray from dirt. A snow plow had clearly already been through here.

The cop driving looked at you through the rearview mirror, his warm brown eyes concerned.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about what happened? It would be helpful-”

“You got the guys, right?” You asked, your voice like sandpaper after using it all night. But it wasn’t like you had anything new to say, just answering the same questions that every victim is asked. Are you okay? Are you sure? Do you need anything? Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?

The only person who seemed content to allow you to sit in silence unless it was absolutely necessary for you to talk was the Batman. His cape had remained wrapped around you, heavy and comforter over your shoulders, until twenty minutes ago, when he took his leave. You’d been the one to hand it back to him, not allowing him to use it as an excuse to come find you to get it back later. He accepted it wordlessly, giving you over to the Police Commissioner, whose face you recognized from the news. He’d mentioned earlier that the cop would give you a ride home once everything was taken care of. He’d assured you, in his own way, that the Commissioner could be trusted.

And you trusted his judgment, at least.

“Yeah, but-”

“Then I’m good. I just want to get home and go to sleep.” The cop sighed, watching you as you leaned against the window, closing your eyes at the sensation of the cold glass on your skin. It would numb your forehead, soon, but for now it was blissful.

“How do you know the Batman?”

“I don’t, not really. He’s just… found his way into my life a few times.” That’s one way of putting it.

“I understand that feeling.” He smiled. You returned it, though your smile was strained.

Small talk filled the rest of your ride, and you found that the police officer wasn’t bad company, all things considered. You certainly could’ve been put with a much more awkward conversation partner. But he laughed at the right moments, seemed morose at others. He mentioned that his daughter was a few years younger than you herself, just started college, which explained it to you.

“Maybe you should meet her sometime, you’d probably like her.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him it most likely wouldn’t happen, but the offer was nice anyway.

Morning traffic hadn’t begun to congest the streets yet (even though it was Sunday, it still got pretty bad in certain parts of the city) and the Commissioner pulled up in front of your building within twenty minutes. You thanked him quietly before climbing out, wincing as you put weight on your sore feet again.

You were definitely throwing these shoes in the back of your closet later.

With a final wave behind you, you made your way to the front door, knowing that he was going to watch and make sure you entered the building safely. Maybe after this he would head to wherever the Bat Signal was to share information with Batman. Or maybe he was just going home to his wife and daughter after a long night dealing with Gotham City.

An average Saturday night in the city, really.

If there was one thing you were satisfied with in your building, it was the heating system. Walking through the front door was like walking into a warm hug, the yellow lights of the hallway adding to the illusion of stepping into a toaster oven. But a nice toaster oven. One that evenly toasted both sides of the bread.

As you walked up the stairs, you pulled your phone out (which had been kicked under a table during the scuffle of the night, miraculously intact with the exception of a single crack along the top of the screen but that was fine, as long as it worked), finding Dr. Crane’s contact information and hitting the CALL button before you could chicken out and tell yourself you’d do it later. By the time it finished ringing and told you to leave a message, you were at your door.

You tried calling again as you unlocked your apartment. Your door stuck, because of course it did, but with a single slam of your body against the wood it broke free, swinging open into your dim apartment.

Putting the phone to your cheek, you shrugged your heels off and sighed in relief when your bare feet touched the hardwood floor. How you couldn’t wait to climb into bed. The phone rang and rang until the automated response played again, telling you to leave a message. Maybe he’s asleep.

Sighing, you waited for the message tone to begin speaking. Although, the moment it chimed you froze, all of the things you had been planning to say leaving your mind. It took you a solid second to regain your thoughts, blinking into the darkness as you began speaking.

“Hey, it’s me. I just got home, I’m all good! Just a few scrapes and bruises and maybe some trauma but it’s okay. Um, I just thought I’d call because it felt really weird to say over text! Okay, text me or call when you get this. I wanna make sure you got home safe too… Okay, bye!”

Did you always say okay this much?

As you left the message to Dr. Crane, you stripped yourself of your dress and underwear, moving through your apartment and not caring about the trail of clothes you left all the way to the bathroom. Turning the shower all the way to the hottest setting, you faced the mirror to take care of your hair. You yanked every single one of the pins out, letting them clatter onto the floor when they missed the sink. You could pick them up later, when you didn’t feel like your skin was covered in grime or like your head was going to fall off your head from exhaustion.

That’s a job for future-you to worry about. Present-you just wanted to be blissfully clean, not worrying about anything else except when to rinse your hair.

You gently clambered into the shower, your muscles aching and ready to rest. But you needed to clean the stink of the night off.

You’d scrub your skin raw if you had to.

The water burned your skin but you sighed in relief anyway, the scalding water bringing blood back to your veins. You could worry about how hot it was and how long the shower you were planning to take was going to be when your water bill arrived.

And then… you started to crave another form of relief. Like it hadn’t gone away but had instead been hibernating through the last few hours, your body started to remember Dr. Crane’s touch, the way he had whispered into your ear. How close he had been to reaching your core, how he knew that you weren’t very experienced and how that didn’t seem to deter him in his pursuit.

If you hadn’t heard those footsteps, if you hadn't freaked out and pushed him away, how far would it have gone until you stopped it? Would you have let him go all the way, there in that hallway?

You ducked your head back under the spray of water, rubbing your hands over your face and groaning, the tell tale twinge of a headache forming in your temple.

Standing in the shower, you couldn’t fathom any realistic way that your heavy petting session with Dr. Crane could’ve escalated into… if not sex, at least an orgasm for one of you. No, all of the scenarios you thought about while washing your body were too fake, too scripted. Like something out of a bad pornographic video.

Oh, yes, Dr. Crane, please- ah- fuck me so hard right here in this hallway where anyone can see us! Let them enjoy the show, ahh.

Yeah, no.

You rolled your eyes at yourself for even thinking that up. It was decidedly un-sexy. Dr. Crane was not the kind of man to elicit such a response. Even in the brief touches he’d bestowed upon you, he was an all-consuming presence, a hurricane that causes you to take shelter within yourself instead of crying out for others to enjoy the sight of your drowning.

Besides, you had been way too drunk to properly consent to anything. And he was, at least, a good enough man to not take advantage of your obvious inebriated state, right? Even though he had said that he was taking advantage of you, that was just tongue in cheek, right? A callback to your conversation in the cafe?

(But, thinking back on the moment now that you were sober, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either way. Sure, in a few years maybe you’d say this was all a mistake but everyone needs to have a messy relationship once in their life. Yours might just end up being with your psychology professor. Super messy. You’re in your twenties, you’re allowed to be reckless!)

(But, in the same vein, you did have a desire for it to not be a messy relationship at all. For him to sweep you away, invite you to a world you’d never seen before and not leave you stranded. Not marriage, of course, but a happy moment in your life that you could look back on with fondness when you’re older. The kind of reckless relationship that defines your life for a season and becomes nothing more than a hazy memory of joy later on.)

You shut the shower off, yanking the curtains back a bit too forcefully, staring at your bathroom as you dried off. The tiles on the floor and walls could use a deep clean, their grout dark with grime. You’d done your best to cover a portion of the floor with a brightly colored rug, fluffy under your feet as you stepped out of the shower. The steam had clouded the mirror, a steamy haze lingering in the air until you opened the door and it spilled out into the rest of your apartment. It wasn’t like the building didn’t have water damage already, a few droplets from the steam wouldn’t hurt it.

You crossed the small hall right into your bedroom, immediately shutting the door behind you and dropping the towel. You didn’t even bother finding any pajamas, simply throwing on the nearest oversized t-shirt that was laying on the floor. Digging through your underwear drawer (you really needed to do laundry) you found a pair you rarely wore and pulled it over your legs.

And then you promptly collapsed onto your bed, climbing under your duvet cover. You could worry about putting your dirty clothes into your overflowing hamper tomorrow (maybe you should also do laundry tomorrow). Right now, what you wanted to do was sleep.

But as you closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths while trying to calm your mind down, you found that sleep was evading you. Despite the exhaustion in your bones, you could not lull yourself into sleep.

Turning onto your other side, you squeezed your eyes shut, shifting your legs around to find the position that your body would decide was good enough to sleep in.

Nothing.

No arrangement of your limbs was good enough.

Sighing, you fell onto your back, staring up at the street light’s shadows on the ceiling.

“And what do you think about, when you touch yourself?” Dr. Crane’s voice rang in your ears, the lingering echoes of his touch burning on your skin.

Slowly, like you couldn’t decide if you actually wanted to yet, your hand moved down your body, skimming over your t-shirt and the skin underneath it, toying with the hem of your shirt before lifting it. You didn’t want to bother with anything fancy, your body simply craving release after being wound up and left unsatisfied earlier. You slipped into your underwear, your fingers parting your lower lips with ease.

You began circling your clit gently with your fingers at first, the sensitive nerves responding like they were set on fire by your touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken time to relieve yourself in this way, your schedule was so busy with TA’ing and your normal work that sometimes it was all you could do to remember to eat and drink water.

Naturally, as it often did when you did take the time to indulge yourself, your mind stumbled its way back to Dr. Crane.

His eyes, following you as you moved through a room with you only becoming aware of it when you catch him in the act.

His fingers, brushing against your skin last night and lingering there, pulling you towards him with a single touch like he’d sunk a hook into your flesh.

His lips, parted in surprise and quirking in a smile, moving against your skin and whispering in your ear.

But most of all, you think about how he was able to get straight to the crux of your problems, solving them with ease and guiding you to the correct answer with a gentle but firm and (sometimes) intimidating hand. How he saw right through you, even before you knew you were being untruthful.

And how, for some reason, he wanted you, as carnally as you wanted him.

You didn’t even feel guilty anymore about touching yourself to thoughts of Dr. Crane. You couldn’t, not after he touched you like that, when he’d talked to you like that.

Pretty, he’d called you, his voice growling against your neck.

You thought back to his breath fanning over your skin, his touch dragging itself to your underwear and resting there, hovering over the place you needed him the most.

Slowly, you began to construct a continuation of the scene, choppy scenes flitting through your mind, disconnected from one another as you chased your climax. But these weren’t like the ones you had conjured earlier, the ones that were out of some harlequin novel or X-rated film they showed in the back of those sketchy shops you passed by on the way home from work.

His fingers slipped under the hem of your dress, pressing against your skin. Touching your clit with no barriers between his skin and the bundle of nerves, his movements in your mind mimicking the movements you made now in real life with your eyes closed.

Now you were pressed against the wall with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust into you. His cock was filling you completely even though you didn’t like to imagine what it looked like (that, evidently, was a step too far for your fantasy, too much of a breach of his privacy).

And then his mouth was open against your own, a sloppy kiss that resembled breathing against one another more than actually kissing. With a few last thrusts, he finished inside of you, your combined spend spilling out of you when he finally pulled out.

It was this final image that pushed you over the edge, your mouth open in a silent gasp as you came.

Legs shaking you pulled your hand out of your underwear, the exhaustion you had pushed away to deal with your other needs returning with a vengeance. You kicked the offending panties off and tossed them across the room, adding them to the pile of clothes strewn about your apartment.

You’re not sure exactly when you fell asleep (as is the nature of falling asleep) but when you woke up halfway through the next afternoon, you immediately checked your phone, your thoughts only on Dr. Crane.

Nothing.

No calls, not even a text acknowledging that he’d received your voicemail. In fact, your only notification was an automated text from your bank informing you that your balance was low.

Sighing, you threw your phone down onto the duvet, watching as the fabric poofed up and deflated. Much like you at this moment.

Through the rest of your day, you continued checking your phone even though you had your sound on and it certainly would’ve chimed loud enough for you to hear if someone called or texted you. For the few brief moments where you were switching your laundry around or putting it away, you worried constantly that he was going to try to call while you were temporarily away from your phone. You even took to obsessively checking your email, because maybe Dr. Crane forgot you had his phone number.

The first explanation you thought of for his radio silence was that he was dead and no one thought to inform you. It would make sense, you were just a TA and no one else knew about your moment in the hallway. But it also seemed highly unlikely. You’re certain that you would’ve found out somehow and it would be very unfair of the world for Dr. Crane to die so suddenly when he’d just reciprocated your attraction.

The second explanation was that he, too, had become embroiled in a hostage situation. But you definitely would’ve heard about that.

So, the next most likely explanation was that he was simply… not calling you. Or texting. Not even a simple “ok” to let you know that he was alive and not a captive. But then the question turned from what happened into why was he not calling?

And for that, there were only two options and both sucked. Either he forgot about you or he was… ignoring you. But unless he had been struck by a sudden, unexplained bout of amnesia, it wasn’t likely he had forgotten about you.

You looked back down at your phone, frowning when no texts popped up from the man your thoughts had been on all day. He couldn’t be ignoring you, right? Even though it was the most plausible option, you refused to consider it.

It would be much easier to think he was dead.

Unlike the last time you’d been attacked, you had little to no physical evidence of it on your body. Which was good, because before, you’d hated how long it had taken everyone- professors, peers, coworkers, strangers- to get used to your swollen face and stop asking stupid questions. This time, you were able to walk through the crowds and keep your head low, feeling everyone’s eyes gloss over you like you were just another street sign to ignore.

Were you nervous to get to Psychology of Fear? Absolutely. But you had a job to do and couldn’t just call out when you felt like it.

Especially not when you had at least six texts in a row that Dr. Crane had left unresponded. And he, of course, didn’t have read receipts on so you didn’t even know if he’d seen your messages at all. Maybe you’d been texting out into a void the entire weekend, maybe his number had changed itself without your permission.

Gotham was cold, overcast clouds drizzling onto the snow that had accumulated over the past day. Winter in Gotham was generally miserable, the snow always lingering too long after it had turned from pristine white to dusty gray before turning into a slush that swirled on the streets and froze over at night into black ice.

Your winter boots (not cute at all but simply a necessity) were heavy on your feet and you couldn’t help but picture Frankenstein lumbering about in his own clunky shoes. (Of course, you’d prefer to compare yourself to the creature in the book but no. You were the avocado green bolt monster today.) Stomping down the front steps of your building, you wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, tucking it further into your coat.

Your earphones were snug in your ears and you couldn’t even be bothered to leave one out in the name of safety. The anxiety stuffing itself into your throat needed to be relieved through loud music and fast walking.

Lucky for you, you were really into the playlist you’d made yesterday while trying to ignore your texting app. It was angry but you’re not sure if you were more angry at Dr. Crane or Gotham itself when you picked the songs.

Probably both.

The song that started playing was an old familiar favorite, a steady beat in the background to keep pace with.

You crossed into campus, sighing as you passed a tour group. How many of them were from the city? The university was lucky enough to have a few renowned programs (not yours, of course). They were the ones that would lead to careers at Wayne Enterprises, the ones funded by Bruce Wayne and his company. All the other programs had to constantly gasp for breath as they drowned in the sea of low budgets.

You wondered how often the tour guides had to answer questions about the crime rate from out-of-towners. Or maybe about the Batman.

You turned your music up even louder, until you’re sure your eardrums would throb in pain later.

Every step closer to the Psychology building built up a new layer of anxiety. It was bottled up in your chest and you’d never missed your old friends as much as you did in that moment. You needed someone to reassure you that everything would be fine but you had no one. Your mom, maybe, but anytime you brought up your mental health she asked you to return home. Dr. Crane, you supposed, was the closest person you had to talk about.

But you couldn’t exactly tell him about it when he was the reason you were so anxious.

Stepping back into the classroom after the whirlwind of a weekend was like landing back on Earth after a year in space.

You settled in for the class, pulling out the book Dr. Crane had assigned for that week’s reading. You’d read it back in late December, but your notes were thorough and you didn't exactly need to contribute to the discussion. In fact, your job was to just note down who was contributing and how much to make sure they got credit for the discussion.

You thumbed through it, skimming over a few of the passages that Dr. Crane had mentioned he would point out, ignoring the students as they streamed into the classroom. You still had an earphone in one ear, but you were only really listening for one thing: Dr. Crane’s entrance into the room, his confident yet hurried gait, the slight hush that would sweep over the room when he entered.

And when you heard it, you snapped your head up to watch him, yanking the earphone out of your ear. Ready for him to give you his usual nod and slight smile of greeting before getting his lecture prepared, ready for him to prove to you that everything was normal.

But he didn’t spare you a glance. Didn’t even look your way.

He walked in, started up his presentation, and began his lecture without even acknowledging your presence in the room. Did anyone else notice this? Probably not. The other students could barely spare you the time of day.

He left almost as soon as class was done, not even staying behind to speak to the few students who were sticking behind, leaving you to handle it on your own. Which you did, perhaps a bit more distracted than you normally would be, answering questions in a haze.

At least you knew Dr. Crane was alive.

But now you had devastating confirmation that he was, in fact, ignoring you.

You left the building dazed, taking slow steps down the street as you tried to wrap your mind around the revelation.

You desperately wanted to follow him, find where he went, and beg him to talk to you, tell you why he hadn’t responded, why he didn’t look your way.

A fat raindrop splattered on your head, icy cold and shocking you back into your body.

As you walked to your next class, you didn’t bother putting your hood up. Who cared, right? Maybe if you were wet enough, you could stand outside of Dr. Crane’s office and garner some sympathy, just so he would speak to you.

At the same time, your cheeks were hot with embarrassment. He’d felt you up at a formal event and probably would’ve gone farther but you’d chickened out and ran away. You couldn’t help but think he was right to just drop you after that. You had shown you had no use to him.

Wait, no. That’s stupid. If that’s what he wanted from you, you were better off without him. If he didn’t want to respect your boundaries, he would have to deal with it himself.

It didn’t make the cold shoulder sting any less, though.

That night, you sit staring outside at your balcony, hoping that someone would come save you from this torture.

No one did.

part II

#stbotdi #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman fanfiction #my writing #my fanfic

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wardogsong · 2 years ago

Note

{ Driver }

frank after dark || accepting [ DRIVER ]: sender goes down on / touches receiver while receiver is driving.

CHRIST. He'd known the night would be full of nothing but bad decisions— if only because those were the only kind a bunch of drunk soldiers celebrating a bachelor's were capable of making. It'd started well before the liquour hit most of their systems and included indulging of every stupid idea that tripped out of their mouths; most of them brought home from overseas where they had long stretches of nothing to do but talk shit and make what should have stayed imaginary plans for nights in the city and showing the fuck off. So they hit the dive bars, commandeer dartboards and make up games with increasingly stupid rules until the jovial mood goes staticky with rising tempers and a reminder of why competition between them all rarely stays all that friendly.

Distraction is someone's' call for tits in their faces and that snaps eager smiles right back in place until they're settling tabs and taking their raucous bullshit back out again into the night. Frank had bitched about it at home in the hopes Maria would forbid him from going, but even the menace of ending up in stripclubs with the guys hadn't deterred her from encouraging him right on out the door.

Fuck— and now three-quarters of the night later he's got Bill's hot wet mouth wrapped around his dick in the same car he drives his wife and kids around in when he's home long enough to get it out of the garage. It's the worst of the bad decisions but he'll be damned if he's using his grip on Billy's hair to do anything but feel how far down he goes.

"Just couldn't wait, could ya Bill? Just— just had to have it." Wait until what? Where? When? Privacy has always been something they invent out of literal nothing just to scratch this goddamn itch. And he knows he's a hypocrite to call the other man out on it, often as he himself gets that want to put paws on him, to catch his eyes and make the forbidden invitation. It all just tumbles out of his mouth, words in place of actions he can't take with one hand on the wheel and the other in Billy's hair. He can't even buck up into his mouth, fuck his throat like they both know he can take, what with having to keep his foot on the gas and the car rolling steady. It's just barely a step above cockwarming, and still it makes Frank want to shut his eyes and tip his head back and indulge. Instead he narrates the contents of the Midtown Tunnel to Billy, wrapped in a spoon-fed fantasy about the show he would be giving them if they looked over into the Mustang, if they could see down into his lap where hes gagging for it without a care in the world for getting caught or exposed. He tries really hard not to think about the potential truth of it all— the very real pleasure that Bill might get out of having their secret blown and the beautiful consequences he imagines would come of the ruination of Frank's marriage.

It's not nice to tease starving orphans.

#prettytm #. ( ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ & ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ) .#( ᴠᴇʀsᴇ ): ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ ʙᴜʀɴ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ɢᴏ || ᴘʀᴇ-ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ #ʜᴏɴᴇʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛs || .(ɴɪɢʜᴛ sᴏɴɢs ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss).#infidelity cw #alcohol cw

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violettesiren · 2 months ago

Text

Living as if every moment announced a beloved and it does

Then the bleeding-off

Maybe you are the sea to me, or me to you A reasonable enough supposition

Can’t you see, I’m busy triangulating

Gingko leaves at my feet A flood of questing yellow

They say that everything that is growing will stop growing soon, maybe

this weekend, the first deep freeze The season of falling

will give way to the season of brittle upturned sticks

Who cares, it’s all equally gorgeous and last night, a lunar eclipse

Immaculate white moving in and out of a rusty red rind, I pulled

a sheet of Plexiglas over the hole in the roof

so I could watch it from inside the boat The boat from which we ride the sky

Nothing can go wrong, do you understand Nothing can ever go wrong

This is what happens when you cease your management

The blue and gold of the morning just appear on the sidewalk, ongoing drift

of garbage, a tire is good to sit in A window pane may flake in the wind

The mute story of November

I don’t even have to steal your words, you give them to me for free

So strange to know that you can and cannot hurt me My heart just can’t break any more, now that

it has changed substance, is full of fluid and fire and air and turning

like a little wheel in its broth

And I can and cannot hurt you either, now that I am utterly virginal, preposterous

as that may sound, it’s also true Sometimes you get to start anew

The pages of my book wet and limpid with tea, on a Sunday, the spidery plants

reaching haphazardly in all directions from their dilapidated mobile, it’s part

of the magic here, and the painted green cement floor. What part of this autonomy

am I not supposed to like?; I too have been much lonelier. Maybe in eleven rooms

you’ll find some sort of home, or base, it’s like there’s this enormous surplus of feelings and/or words

and we prick at the tarp, letting little pinwheels of light come in but never really touching the source

So little time, really, we’ve eaten some food, slept badly swam in jumbled waters, very little coming

I don’t even know you, shadowed by the knowing The knowing that has nothing to do

with life-stories, their wicked specificity Sometimes my speech moves so fast inside me

before it hatches, and I know I’m about to flop over into tongues, but I don’t care: this is the speed

at which I run, and you run fast, too, so I let you touch me with one hand while the other steers a car

through midtown Manhattan, it’s almost as if none of this has ever happened, it just shines

then gets enclosed in an envelope decorated with faded blue stamps from the Belgian Congo. It’s such a relief

when tears come from the cold, like yesterday on River Street, all the men lined up in their idling cars

by the power plant, what are they waiting for? With all due humility, I have to say

I know it now, or it knows me the peace-feeling

that stays even as the body races and pants above or along it, when the team suddenly does

a jazz square in unison, when a dream repeals an impediment overnight, when the whole world

The whole world is strobing

The Mute Story of November by Maggie Nelson

#maggie nelson

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regalpartybuses · 10 months ago

Text

Cruising in Style: Party Bus Rentals in Houston

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When it comes to experiencing Houston's nightlife in style, nothing compares to the excitement and luxury of a party bus. From customizable experiences to luxurious amenities and safety assurances, party bus rentals offer an unforgettable way to celebrate any occasion with friends and loved ones. For the ultimate party on wheels in Houston, visit RegalPartyBus.com and book your adventure today!

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 3 years ago

Text

What am I supposed to do if there’s no you | Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: May dies. You find Peter on the school’s roof and comfort him

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word count: 0.5k

Note: Let’s all cry together

Peter had lost a lot of people in his life. Each loss hurt differently.

The first time, he was four years old. At this age, Peter didn't really understand the concept of death and kept asking May and Ben: 'where are my mommy and daddy?'.

The second time, Peter was older. He knew what death meant. Uncle Ben had at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been at the corner store getting milk on a Tuesday night when a burglar came in and held the cashier at gunpoint. The burglar fired the gun to scare the cashier, but the bullet had ricocheted and touched Ben fatally.

It had been a hard and emotional night. Peter remembered holding a crying May in his arms after the police rang their doorbell, announcing them of the sad news. She took his loss the hardest.

A few months ago, Tony Stark had died in his arms after sacrificing himself. Although they weren't blood related, Peter had gone through trauma from losing him. Peter looked up to Tony a lot, both as a superhero and as a person. He was his mentor and, in a way, a father figure.

Now, it was May's turn.

When Peter saw the blood on his hand, he knew she wasn't going to make it, but a part of him refused to believe she was going to die. She had been fine a minute ago. It didn’t make sense to him.

''What are you doing, May? Please, May. Will you just wake up and talk to me, please,'' Peter begged with tears falling from his eyes, trying to wake up his mother figure whose's heart was no longer beating.

His hands were cupping her face, caressing her cheek gently.

She couldn't die. She was too young...and he needed her.

He needed her to tell him he was a blind idiot for not seeing that you had a crush on him. He needed her to cook dinner and fail miserably. He needed her to worry about him and throw bananas at him to test his ‘Peter-tingles’.

What was he supposed to do if there was no May?

A car pulled in at the front of the building and called his name. Happy. Peter locked eyes with him for a brief second before glancing back at May. He didn't know what to do.

The NYPD team outside began crowding Happy and pulled him out of his car.

They were waiting for Peter to come out.

''Peter, run!'' Happy shouted as handcuffs were being put on him.

Peter pressed a longing kiss to May's forehead. ''I'm sorry,'' he repeated over and over, squeezing his eyes shut as tears continues to flow.

Guns began going off and one of the bullet hit Peter's shoulder, sending him back from the impact. He brought a hand over the wound and stood on wobbly legs, abandoning May's body.

Peter found himself sitting on the rooftop of Midtown High, heaving rain falling on him. It was his safe place. Where he always went to get away from things. That’s where you and him spent lunch break on the first day back to school after Mysterio revealed Spiderman’s identity.

That's where you found him. He sensed you coming up the roof and turned his head, looking at you with bloodshot and teary eyes.

You didn't ask what happened. If Peter was here, it meant something bad had happened. Something really bad judging by the look in his eyes and the blood on him.

The wetness of the rain seeped through your sweater as you went up to him and kneeled, cradling his face and sweetly kissing his temple. Whatever had happened, Peter needed comfort. He leaned into you and broke down at your touch, letting it all go. You wrapped your arms around him and his bloodied hands immediately covered yours, as if to keep you from ever letting go.

The only time you heard Peter cry was when Tony died. If Ned and MJ were at Ned’s, the only person who Peter would be this heartbroken over was...May.

You tightened your hold as Peter's sobbed, feeling your own eyes fill up with tears.

''She's gone. It's all my fault.''

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tom!peter parker x reader #tom holland #MCU #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter x reader #mcu imagines #mcu prompts

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ynparker · 2 years ago

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Waiting for Spiderman - (Part 3) Peter Parker x (Y/N)

Peter Parker x fem!stark!avenger!reader

Summary: Peter Parker is new to the Avengers, but that doesn't stop him from falling for Tony Stark's daughter.

Warnings: Flash being an absolute jerk

A/N: Hey guys! This fanfic is inspired by the song 'Waiting for Superman' by Daughtry (I changed it to Spiderman for obvious reasons). Also, Pietro never died. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Enjoy ;)

(Y/N)'s eyes shot past Peter, surprised as she heard his name being called. A boy ans girl their age were hurrying towards him. Peter was smiling and waving at them.

"Hey," the boy said as he caught up with them. "You forgot to text me last night, I thought we were going to build my new Lego death star?"

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows and a smile crossed her face. The girl laughed and patted Peter on the shoulder. "You're busted, Parker," she said. "Looks like she just found out how much of a nerd you are."

Before Peter could stammer out an answer, the girl spoke again. "I'm MJ by the way," she introduced herself. "And that's Ned. For the record, I'm not even sure why I'm friends with these dorks.

Peter looked scandalized, but (Y/N) was grinning. She was beginning to like his friends more and more. "Nice to meet you guys," she smiled at them. "I'm (Y/N), (Y/N) Stark."

Ned's eyes widened slowly. "Whoah," he gasped. "You're actually Tony Stark's daughter?"

"That's me," she said, giving a confident shrug. She always played it cool when people mentioned her dad. Provided they didn't overdo it, of course.

"And you're hanging out with us?" Ned asked. The other three laughed at this. "Well, Peter's Spiderman and he hangs out with you," she countered reasonably. In a trice, Peter had his hand over her mouth. "Ssh!!" he hissed, looking around. "Someone might hear you! We're only like a block away from Midtown!"

"Wow," MJ remarked in an unimpressed voice. "You are really into her." Immediately, Peter pulled away and (Y/N) felt her face growing bright red.

Thankfully, Ned changed the subject. "So, (Y/N), did you transfer to Midtown or do you go to another school?"

"No, my dad transferred me two weeks ago," she replied. Ned frowned. "Weird, I'm surprised Flash hasn't asked you out by now," he said. "I try to keep a low profile," the girl replied. "And who is Flash?"

"The scum of Midtown, the ant in our sock, the mosquito bite under our toe, you get the idea," MJ explained. "He's really rich, but he's also a total bully," Ned informed her. "Yeah, he's been bullying especially me for years," Peter said. "There's a lot of kids that hang out with him, though," he added, worry creeping into his voice as if being scared (Y/N) would hang out with him too.

(Y/N) put a comforting arm around him. "For what it's worth, he sounds like an idiotic jerk," she told him. Peter smiled. "Thanks, (Y/N)," he said, and then looked ahead. They had reached Midtown High, the large building towering over the swarm of students entering the school or hanging out and talking.

The four walked up to the steps of the school. Right as they were about to enter, something wet hit the small of (Y/N)'s back.

"What the-" she turned around in outrage, just in time to see a smug smile on the face of a boy who had just ridden a car into a huge puddle right behind her.

"Good morning, Pen!s Parker!" the boy called out gleefully. "Hope you don't mind, you looked a little tired so I decided to wake you up."

"That is Flash," MJ muttered under her breath to you. "Pen!s Parker?" (Y/N) muttered back. "It is taking everything in me not to blast him into a wall right now."

"Come on, Peter, he's not worth it," Ned said, pulling Peter into the building. Peter looked positively mortified at (Y/N) having to see him get bullied by Flash like that, but when he looked at her, she was busy peeling off her wet coat.

"I'm sorry about that," he told her, eyeing it. "Oh, it's all good" she smiled, waving it aside. "Watch this." She stepped into an empty doorway and held out her coat. The others watched her curiously. (Y/N) waved her hand over the coat, smiling as she saw the wet spot grow smaller and smaller until the fabric was dry.

"I could do it with my hands glowing but that could be a little conspicuous in a crowded corridor," the girl said nonchalantly as the three others looked at her, transfixed.

Peter's eyes were wide as he hurriedly looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed that. "How did you do that? That was so cool!" he exclaimed, the excitement in his face making (Y/N) laugh. "I'm serious!" the boy insisted. "You have the coolest power out of like all of the Avengers!"

"Better not let my dad hear you say that," (Y/N) laughed and turned him around so he was standing with his back to her.

He became suddenly aware of the fact that Flash's little stunt had made the back of his jacket wet as well, and smiled as he felt it dry slowly. He looked at (Y/N) with admiration as she dried off MJ and Ned as well.

"Miss Stark?"

A voice behind them made all four whip around as they realized the new guidance counselor, Mrs. Dankworth, standing behind them. (Y/N) immediately brushed the hair out of her face and gave a winning smile. It reminded Peter very much of Mr. Stark's expression when he was winning someone over.

"Mrs. Dankworth, good morning!" (Y/N) smiled. "Is everything ok?" The lady smoothed her cardigan and eyed the girl over her horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, I just wanted to let you know you've been transferred to second period P.E. on Wednesdays and Fridays, there's been a slight mix-up in the schedules so we've been changing them for some of the students."

Peter and Ned exchanged excited glances. This would mean (Y/N) would be taking P.E. with them, meaning they would have one class with her.

"That's fine," (Y/N) was saying. "Thank you so much for letting me know, Mrs. Dankworth." The woman gave a small smile. When (Y/N) turned, MJ was looking at her with an impressed look in her eye.

"Oh, you're good," she said. (Y/N) laughed. "I get the flattery from my father."

"Yeah, Mr. Stark does know how to please a crowd," Peter agreed. "Are you calling me a crowd pleaser, Parker?" (Y/N) asked, quirking her brow at him. Peter immediately went red. "N-no, no, what I meant was..."

"Relax, I was just messing with you," (Y/N) said, holding her hand up. "I have to go or I'll be late for first period science."

"I have first period science too," MJ said. "I'll walk with you." (Y/N) smiled and nodded, waving goodbye to the other two.

"Dude," Ned said when the girls were well out of earshot. "You like her." Peter looked at his best friend, hoping he looked convincing. "What? No, no, she's just a friend."

"Are you listening to yourself? You're literally living with (Y/N) Stark, who is cute, hot and totally into you, and you're telling me she's just a friend?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "I like her as a friend," he insisted. Ned scoffed. "And Flash is my new best friend."

"Shut up."

---

(Y/N) made her way to the gym with mixed feelings. She and MJ had spent the whole lesson either pretending to pay attention or being resigned to pay attention when they were caught talking. Somehow, MJ seemed convinced that (Y/N) was crazy about Peter, despite the fact that the two had only met yesterday.

She pushed the door to the girl's changing rooms open, flinching when she heard a high-pitched laugh echo in her ears. "I cannot believe you would pass out on an opportunity to marry Thor!"

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as she realized they were talking about her uncle. "Nah," another girl's voice replied. 'I'd prefer a one night stand with him. I mean, have you seen the muscles on that guy?" (Y/N) clapped a hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle her laughter, making a mental note to ask Thor what he thought of girls wanting to hook up with him.

"Ok, and what about... Iron Man?"

Oh, this should be good.

"Iron Man? I'd probably want to marry him."

"Yeah, same. I feel like he's the kind of guy who would protect you no matter what."

Well, they got that right.

"And he's hot enough, isn't he?"

The giggle was out of (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop it. She could practically hear the girls look up. "Hello?" one of them called. "Is anyone there?"

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut and stepped out from behind the lockers. A blonde and a brunette were sitting together on the benches and were looking at her with identical puzzled looks.

"Were you listening to us?" the blonde asked. "Not intentionally," (Y/N) replied, hoping she didn't sound too awkward. "So what do you think?" the brunette. "Kiss marry kill - Thor, Iron Man, and Spiderman."

(Y/N) gave a small smile. "I don't think I'd do any of those things with Iron Man. But... I might kiss Spiderman if circumstances allowed." The blonde shook her head. "Fine, but I stand by my choice. Thor is the hottest Avenger. I'm Betty, by the way," she added. "This is my friend Liz."

"Hi," (Y/N) said with a classic Stark smile. "Ok, I'm going to change."

"Meet us out front, ok?" Liz smiled. With that, the two left, leaving (Y/N) to finally let go of her suppressed laughter.

When the girl finally exited the changing rooms, she was pleased to see both Peter and Ned sitting on the bleachers. She hurried to meet them, an inviting smile gracing her face.

"Oh-h, boy," Peter whispered as he saw her arrive. "This is your chance!" Ned hissed. "Tell her you have a crush on her!"

"I'm not going to tell her I have a crush on her-"

"So it's true?" Ned gasped, his eyes widening. "You do have a crush on her!"

"Ned, seriously, shut u- hey, (Y/N)!" he broke off suddenly as he saw the girl approaching them. "Hey, guys. So, I just met these girls who were playing kiss marry kill with Thor, my dad, of all people, and you, Peter. Well, Spiderman, really, but you know."

Ned smirked. "Oh, really? That's - that's an interesting question, (Y/N). So, who would you kiss? Spiderman or Thor?" (Y/N) went red, but before she had a chance to answer, someone behind her wolf-whistled.

She turned, her eyes narrowed, not surprised at all by who she saw. Flash Thompson with the stupidest smirk on his smug face. "So, you're the new girl?"

"If you can call someone who's been here for two weeks new," (Y/N) replied, a calculating look on her face as she stood to face the boy. She caught the slight confused frown on Flash's face. She smirked. He wasn't used to girls saying things like that to him. He was making himself way too obvious.

"What's your name, beautiful?" Flash asked, the smug look returning to his face. Okay. "Number one, do not call me beautiful, even though I'd like to think I am, thank you very much. Number two, you'll know my name soon enough. And number three, I would like you to apologize to me and my friends for that stunt you pulled this morning."

Nobody had been expecting that. Those nearby who had heard what the girl had said were listening, open-mouthed. Flash's jaw had dropped.

"Um..." he said, seemingly unable to form a single thought. Not that he seemed capable of doing so on a regular basis.

At that point, there came a shout. "Stark! You got the schedule change?" She looked past Flash's paling face to Coach Wilson, who was just entering the gym. "Yes, thank you, Coach Wilson!" she called, making sure everyone could hear her. She looked at Flash again and said, "Yeah, I'm (Y/N) Stark. Tony Stark's daughter and heir of Stark Industries. Glad to make your acquaintance."

She was about to turn away, when Flash grabbed her arm. "So what happened to your mom, (Y/N) Stark?" he asked.

The girl felt her face pale.

(Ahh Part 4 is finally out now!

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imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 4 years ago

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'Tis The Damn Season

Click here for my masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - ’The road not taken looks real good now and it always leads to you in my hometown.’

Notes - Smut

Months had passed since you had seen Peter Parker and yet somehow he was the one boyfriend who you had never really stopped thinking about. Even after school was done and everyone went their separate ways with new jobs, going to college, enlisting in the military, Peter Parker still crossed your mind.

He was the boyfriend who felt like the one, the boyfriend who when people looked at you they thought you were going to be the exception and stay together forever. You had thought so too but there were too many secrets, not that Peter ever did admit to keeping secrets but you knew.

You had thought he was seeing another girl, that was the only real explanation for why he disappeared for hours on end, never returning your calls and evading questions when asked. You tried to ignore it, you loved him but eventually it was too much and you broke up not long before graduation.

Then you’d gone to college and not seen him since.

It was safe to say that that was one of the best holiday seasons either of you had had._

Now you were heading home for the holidays and part of you wanted to see him. There was a part of you that still wanted to make things work but you knew that was impossible if there was another girl.

Driving home for the holidays made you feel nostalgic. You weren’t even too far away from home but you had moved out and headed further into New York and hadn’t really been back home since. Maybe you’d bump into Peter, maybe you could call things even just for the holidays. Pretend he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

The nostalgic feeling within you only grew as you drove through your hometown and deciding you weren’t needed at home just yet you took a detour. It wasn’t long before you parked your car outside Midtown school, watching as a flow of students came out.

You couldn’t help but smile as you remembered when that was you and Peter, he’d meet you at your locker when classes ended and take your hand, leading you out of the building and the two of you either went to one of your houses or decided to go on a date. Your favourites included bowling, golfing and going to the movies with him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you tucked yourself against his chest.

It was the safest feeling in the world.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, lost in the memories but eventually you decided it was time to go. You weren’t quite ready to go home yet so you drove to a small cafe you and Peter had found together and hesitated for a moment before getting out of your car and heading inside.

Soon you were sitting at a table facing out into the street with a hot drink and a muffin in front of you. As you sat sipping your drink, you couldn’t help but smile at the memories of all the times you and Peter had come here, hiding away from the adults and just being in each other’s company.

One night you remembered vividly, it was shortly after Uncle Ben had died. Peter had been a mess and you had tried to be there for him but he pushed you, pushed everyone away. A few weeks had passed with only minimal contact with him before he knocked on your bedroom window.

You had jumped out of your skin seeing him on your fire escape, wondering how on earth he had gotten up so high but those thoughts were shoved to the back of your mind as you took in the cuts and bruises that covered his face.

“What happened?” You asked softly after opening your window for him. You watched as he gingerly climbed through, wincing as he straightened up. Once he was fully inside you could see his eyes were wet and watery.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered instead of answering, moving forward to rest his head on your shoulder. You saw him wince as he did so led him to the bed. Peter seemed thankful as he cuddled into your stomach and you ran your fingers gently through his hair. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“Hey, it’s ok, you were going through a lot.” You told him honestly. You had hated the fact you couldn’t comfort him whilst he was mourning the death of Ben but you understood people grieved differently. All you could do was be there for him when he came knocking on your door...or your window.

“What happened?” You had asked again and he turned his head slightly to look up at you.

“I had a fight with May.” Peter mumbled against you. Before you could say anything Peter was suddenly sitting up and grabbing your hand. “Let’s go.” He said.

“Go?” You questioned, “Go where?”

“To the cafe.” Peter said. “Please Y/N.” Was all he needed to say before you were shrugging on a coat and letting him lead you to the cafe.

The two of you had stayed there for hours, you had let Peter lead the conversation not knowing where to go considering he was still obviously upset. You had tried to ask him what had happened with May but he just shook his head and when you brought up the bruises he shut down completely.

Eventually Peter walked you home and the next day everything went back to normal between the two of you.

Sitting here now felt odd, it felt like something was missing.

And then suddenly it wasn’t missing.

“Y/N?” You heard someone say. You turned your head from where you had been gazing out of the window and saw Peter Parker stood next to you holding a to-go cup.

He looked...good. He looked really good and it took a moment for you to reply.

“Peter. Hi!” You greeted, unsure of what to do but Peter looked confused too.

“Hey, how’ve you been? You look great.” He told you and you couldn’t help but smile as he blushed.

“Thanks, I’m good. How’re you? You’re looking good too.” You smiled. It was strange seeing Peter, he hadn’t changed too much, a bit more muscle here and there but ultimately he still looked like the same Peter you had left behind.

Your smile brightened as he blushed even more as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I,um, thank you.” He stammered, clearly his throat before continuing, “I’m good too.”

There was a slight pause as you debated whether you wanted to ask him to join you before you just shook your head. You had wanted to bump into him, turning him away now would be foolish.

“Do you have anywhere to be?” You asked and felt relieved as he shook his head no. “Care to join me then? Gotta say I’ve missed you.” Peter sat down and looked at you shyly before speaking.

“I’ve missed you too.” He admitted.

The two of you sat there for hours and it was like no time had passed where you had been apart. This, this felt natural, it felt right to be sat with Peter talking about everything and nothing at the same time. It was easy to keep ordering drinks, easy to keep talking, easy to remember you’d never fallen out of love with him.

The two of you would’ve sat there all night talking, reminiscing, laughing together if your mom didn’t call you, worried about where you were. You gave Peter a sheepish look as you told her you had arrived a while ago but ended up bumping into an old friend.

“I didn’t mean to keep you for so long.” You apologised as the two of you stood up. He smiled over at you, cursing himself for letting his secret get between the two of you.

“Don’t be, I liked seeing you today.” He told you before pausing for a moment, “Aunt May’s out for the holidays, so if you wanted to stop by…” He trailed off and you couldn’t help but flush slightly as you stepped out of the cafe.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You told him with a smile and Peter couldn’t help but grin. There was an ache in your chest as you looked at him, god you missed him.

Peter walked you over to your car and the two of you paused for a second, not sure how to say goodbye and before you could say anything Peter leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“See you soon, Y/N/N.” He whispered before pulling away.

The blush on your cheeks must’ve been obvious and you both knew it wasn’t from the cold air.

“See you Peter.” You whispered back, watching as he walked away.

Three days had passed since you first saw Peter at the cafe and you had yet to go to his house. Despite the cheery holiday music, the twinkling lights everywhere you looked, the smell of cookies, all you could think about was Peter’s invitation.

It hadn’t escaped your families notice either, the distant far of looks, the continuous picking up of your cell phone, they noticed it all but you’d told them repeatedly you were fine and it was eventually dropped.

No matter what you were doing your thoughts always led back to Peter Parker.

Today you decided to stop overthinking it and just go. You got out of bed with a groan and took your time getting ready. Before long you were showered, dressed and ready to go but you couldn’t help but hesitate at the front door.

“It’s Peter isn’t it?” Your mom asked, appearing from the kitchen. You debated on whether you wanted to tell her or not but decided she’d probably have a better opinion on it than you.

With a sigh you nodded, “It’s Peter.”

“You two,” she said, smiling fondly. She had always been a fan of Peter, he was the most perfect boyfriend a mother could ask for, “you miss him.” She didn’t ask but she stated it like it was the most obvious fact in the world.

“Yeah, I miss him.” You agreed because what else could you do?

“Go to him then,” She urged, “You and Peter had something special. I know you thought there was another girl but trust me when I say that boy would never even dream of cheating on you. It’s rare to find someone who looks at you the way Peter does and it’s even rarer for you to look at him with the same look, trust me. Go and see him.”

You were at a loss for words so instead you hugged her quickly murmuring a quick ‘thank you’ before heading out of the door and into your car before you could think too much of it.

It wasn’t long until you were at Peter’s house. Thankfully the lights were on as you hadn’t even considered texting ahead.

The walk up to Peter’s door felt like they took forever and no time at all and before you knew it there stood Peter with a shy smile on his face.

“Y/N,” He greeted happily, “you came.”

“Sorry I didn’t text.” You said, smiling back at him as he opened the door wider to let you in.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I’m glad you're here.” He told you as he led you to the kitchen.

The house hadn’t changed much in the few months you’d been gone. The kitchen was still the same as were the pictures decorating the house, you smiled sadly as you saw one of Ben and May smiling together.

Everything looked the same, everything still felt like home.

“Can I get you a drink?” Peter asked when a few moments of silence had passed as he let you look around.

Soon the two of you were sat on the sofa, drinks on the coffee table and a random channel playing on the tv. Peter turned to face you and hesitated, he had thought about telling you his secret for a long time, if there was anyone he could trust it was you. It wasn’t a trust issue though, it was the fact he didn’t want to risk putting you in harm's way, if you ever got hurt because of him, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t forgive himself. But if he wanted even half a chance of being with you again, he knew he had to.

“Is everything ok?” You asked when it looked like Peter was absorbed by the thoughts running through his head. You smiled as he shook his head slightly.

“Sorry, yeah, no, I just,” Here Peter let his head fall against the back of the sofa and groaned, causing you to giggle. “God, I’m really bad at this, Y/n/n, how did I ever get so lucky in the first place?” He asked and this time you laughed.

“I think I remember a lot of stammering and blushing back then too.” You teased him, causing him to cover his face with his hands, “And then there was the time you gave me a nosebleed whilst trying to impress me, I think that’s when I really fell hard for you.” You laughed as he moved his hands.

“Oh I did make you bleed didn’t I?” He gasped, remembering how when he tried to teach you to skateboard it had ended with his knee connecting with your nose. “Seriously, why did you ever date me?” He said, the pair of you laughing and moving close together.

“What can I say? I was gone for you the moment I met you, no amount of nosebleeds would’ve made me stop.” You told him, watching as his eyes flicked down to your lips.

“I never stopped liking you.” He admitted quietly, almost whispering the confession.

“I never stopped liking you either.” You replied in the same tone, watching as he leaned closer.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Peter whispered, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, letting his thumb trace along your skin.

“Please don’t stop.” You said as you leaned into the touch and that was all the confirmation Peter needed before he leaned in and connected your lips together.

The kiss was slow and gentle, it felt almost like a first kiss, the kind where you’re hesitant but you know you want to spend forever kissing this person, it was the kind of kiss that gave you butterflies.

However it quickly turned desperate, it was a kiss that could be described as hungry, as needy. The two of you invading each other's space, getting as close to each other as possible. Neither of you could stop your hands from exploring the other's body, your hands on Peter’s chest, his fingertips running down your back causing you to arch into the touch. The kiss felt like it set you on fire, Peter’s very touch electric to your skin as warmth spread throughout your body. This kiss was for every kiss that was missed in the months you’d been apart, this kiss was intimate, it was everything you had wanted and needed.

You ended up on Peter’s lap during this and couldn’t help but grind against him causing Peter to moan into the kiss.

“Fuck baby.” Peter groaned as the two of you pulled away for some air.

“I told you I missed you.” You murmured against his skin as you trailed kisses from his jawline to his neck causing him to muffle another groan.

“Y/N,” He began before taking your chin and pulling you back up so he could kiss you again. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, grinding against his lap as you kissed him back with the same desperate need.

Before you could even register what had happened, Peter was stood up, holding you against him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled back as he started walking towards the stairs.

“No, no, baby, kiss me.” He whined as he leaned forward and you laughed as you pressed your lips together. You didn’t know how Peter managed to get up the stairs without pausing but somehow he managed and you were quickly dropped down on the bed with Peter hovering above you.

“God baby,” Peter said, leaning closer so he could press hurried kisses against your neck trailing down to your chest. His hands began to trail over your clothed breasts causing you to groan and arch up into his touch. “I missed you so damn much,” He told you as he trailed kisses further down, mouthing at your breast through the shirt you wore making you moan and whine.

“Peter,” you whimpered as he ran his tongue across the material, “please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” He breathed out, “anything.” After that he helped pull your shirt off over your head before attaching himself to your right breast, taking it into his mouth, shamelessly sucking on it. He let his hand trail up to the other one and started playing with it causing you to throw your head back and arching into the touch.

God, Peter loved hearing you moan for him.

Peter let his hand trail further down, letting his fingers brush in between your legs, smirking against your breast as you bucked up suddenly.

“Peter,” you whined causing him to chuckle but he pulled away causing you to whimper at the loss. He sank further down the bed, trailing kissing down from your breasts, onto your stomach and hips before he settled in between your legs, pressing kisses against your jean covered thighs.

He couldn’t help but smirk as you let out a string of incomprehensible words as he licked in between your legs through your jeans, letting his hand trail ever so softly over the clothes.

“Peter,” You groaned again, the only thing you were capable of saying was his name causing him to press another kiss to your thigh before he pulled your jeans from you before settling back between your legs, smiling at the wetness that stained your underwear.

“So good for me, baby.” He murmured, leaning forward and licking you through your underwear causing you to moan, pressing further into him, trying to get as much friction as you could.

“Peter, Peter, please, need you, Peter.” You whimpered and whined as he continued on like that for a good few moments before he finally pulled your underwear off too, throwing them off to the side somewhere.

“Shh, shh, I got you,” Peter murmured as he settled back down in front of you, “I know what you need, baby.”

You whimpered as you felt his hot breath between your legs, moaned as he leaned closer and lightly licked you before attaching his mouth to it and sucking. It was like your body lit up, sparks of pleasure ran throughout your body causing your thighs to clench but Peter was there holding them down, holding you open.

As he continued sucking on your clit, his fingers trailed up and you let out a loud, filthy moan as you felt his finger push into you causing Peter to chuckle against your clit and you moaned even louder as a result of the vibrations from it.

As your moans grew louder and more frantic Peter pushed his fingers deeper into you, curling them as he found your g-spot, he sped up and alternated between sucking and licking at your clit causing your hands to grip his hair tightly, holding him in place.

He stayed where you held him, his mouth desperately working your clit as his finger sped up. He felt you withering against him, frantically trying to find a release as Peter continued assaulting your clit. When you began moaning Peter’s name repeatedly, almost like a prayer, he pulled away from you with a smirk.

“Pete,” you whined, your thighs bucking as you tried to chase after him.

“Not just yet, baby, I wanna feel myself in you.” He whispered as he leaned down and smashed your lips together in a rough, dirty kiss. You groaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

It wasn’t long before Peter was lining himself up against you and pushed into you without warning causing you to let out a loud moan, scraping your fingernails down his back.

“Fuck.” Peter groaned as he leaned down to bury his face in your neck, biting down as he sunk further into you causing you to moan and screw your eyes shut.

Peter rocked himself until he was buried deep inside you and paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust. When you nodded, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming into you causing you to cry out, your back arching off of the bed as he repeated the action continuously at a fast pace, each time hitting that sweet spot inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, Pete, yes, fuck, right there, yes!” You continued to moan, not caring in the slightest how loud you were being. Peter loved it, he loved when you lost control like this, he loved when everything went out the window and you were as loud as you could be. It did something to him he couldn’t explain and it only made him speed up, his hand coming down to rub against your clit.

As Peter slammed into you and rubbed your clit, your were moaning louder than you’d done in a long time, letting your hands fall onto the bed as you gripped the bedsheets. The sound of the bed frame smacking against the wall and your loud moans only fuelled Peter on more.

“Please Peter, I need to cum, please.” You begged as you felt your orgasm getting closer causing Peter to groan and slam into you harder and faster, his hand speeding up to. The pace made you cry out, it was almost too much but Peter had always known what you needed.

It wasn’t long before Peter felt you cumming on his dick causing him to moan and buck into you, pressing deeper inside you as he too came inside of you.

The two of you stay where you are for a while, neither one of you ready to move. The only sound to be heard was the heavy panting as the two of you calmed down. Your hands were still gripping the sheets and your eyes were still screwed shut causing Peter to smile before he gently pulled out of you, almost moaning at the sight of cum dripping out of your used cunt, before he gently took both of your hands in his causing you to lazily blink up at him.

“You with me, baby?” He asked quietly, smiling as you sluggishly nodded at him. He’d really done a number on you. “Good girl, I’ll be right back, gonna clean you up.” He murmured before heading to the bathroom to get a damp washcloth and on his way back he grabbed one of his clean shirts for you.

“Good girl,” He praised in a hushed tone as he made quick but careful work of cleaning you and the bed up before he helped you pull the shirt over your body.

After he made sure everything was tidied away he slid into bed with you, smiling as you automatically curled up against him. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head before letting himself drift off to sleep like you had.

God, he’d missed you.

You woke up slowly in the morning, you felt Peter underneath you and felt his fingers lazily tracing unknown figures into your skin. Before drawing his attention to the fact you were awake, you let your eyes stay shut as you thought back to last night.

Did you regret it? Absolutely not.

Did you know what it meant? Also no.

You knew you wanted Peter back but there was still that question lingering in the back of your mind, what was he hiding from you?

You had to find out, it was the only way you could be with him.

If that’s what he wanted.

You groaned as you stirred, blinking lazily up at Peter who smiled down at you softly, his expression full of love. It made you pause for a moment before smiling back at him.

“How you feeling today?” He asked and you winced as you shifted. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.” He added.

“No, no, it was good, I enjoyed it.” You told him watching as he smirked, “Oh shut up.” You laughed, hitting his chest lightly.

“I didn’t say anything.” He laughed before pressing a kiss against your head and then pausing. “Sorry, I, um, I.” Peter stammered and you felt just as confused about where you stood with each other.

“You wanna go to the park today?” You asked, saving him and yourself from the awkwardness that was starting to settle. “It should be pretty quiet.” It was true, you could see the snow falling from outside the window.

Peter shot up a confused look before he agreed and after the two of you were showered and dressed you left the house and began walking down to the park. The walk was nice, Peter and you pretty much staying silent though your hands brushed together a few times.

When you got to the park you weren’t surprised to see that it was in fact empty, the snow was falling and it was still reasonably early considering school was out.

For the entire walk to the park you had gone over what to say so many times and you still had nothing. All you knew was that you wanted to be with Peter but you couldn’t, not with secrets and lies pulling you apart.

“Listen,” You began after minutes of silence had passed since you and Peter sat down. “I never stopped loving you, even when I broke up with you it wasn’t because I fell out of love. I wanted to be with you, I still want to be with you. You were, you are everything to me. But there were so many lies, Peter.” You rushed out watching as Peter looked down and fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

“I know,” he whispered, “I know I lied to you. You were the one person I didn’t want to lie to, ever, the one person who I wanted to tell but I couldn’t, Y/N/N, I couldn’t.” You began to worry now, wondering what on earth this secret was.

“You have to tell me, Pete, please just tell me.” You begged, looking at him with watery eyes. When Peter looked up at you he felt his heart clench and he screwed his eyes shut before nodding.

“Ok, ok, Y/N, I’ll tell you but you have to promise no matter what happens, even if you walk away today, this stays between us.” He pleaded, looking at you with scared, wide eyes.

You nodded immediately, of course you would keep whatever secret he was hiding.

“I’m Spider-Man.” He choked out, turning away from you.

Your eyes widened as you looked at him in shock. He was Spider-Man, the Spider-Man who you had seen jump off of skyscrapers and join police chases to fight bad guys, the Spider-Man who risked his own safety in order to protect the citizens of New York.

“What do you mean your Spider-Man?” You asked and it took Peter some time before he managed to tell you the full story of how he had become Spider-Man and why he did what he did.

“Do you hate me?” He asked tearfully, causing you to smile and cup his cheek before pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“No.” You whispered easily, “Part of me isn’t even really shocked to find out it’s you. I mean who else is so selfless to put their own needs aside to protect the little guys, huh?” You smiled, causing him to give you a small, bashful smile in return.

“Does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend again?” He asked hesitantly and you laughed slightly.

“Yes, Pete, I’d love nothing more than to be your girlfriend again.” You grinned as he pulled you in for another kiss.

It was safe to say that that was one of the best holiday seasons either of you had had.

_________________

Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker taglist -

@haroldpotterson, @imjustassaneasyou, @dindjarinsspouse, @rottenstyx

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ptergwen · 3 years ago

Note

hii ! *NWH SPOILER WARNING*

i was wondering if you can write an angsty fluff of reader comforting peter about may's death? thank you !!

warnings: NWH SPOILERS! mentions of death, mentions of blood, angst

a/n: ouch? these damn requests are tearing me to pieces but here you go my love lmfhsjdhsh

you’d first heard about aunt may’s passing on the news. the daily bugle broke the story.

they reported that multiple people were injured and at least one person had been killed in an attack at happy’s condo, where peter and may were staying. although a name wasn’t mentioned, you had a gut feeling it was her.

peter went radio silent after the attack, no longer keeping you updated on his whereabouts like he said he would. that, and j. jonah jameson pinning it on spider-man lead you to the conclusion that peter was involved.

after talking it over with ned and mj, you three think it best to search for peter yourselves. you decide to check the rooftop of midtown because he often ventures up there when he needs an escape.

the three of you set off for the school with heavy hearts. upon arriving, you climb the ladder that brings you to the roof. you’re the first to make it up.

peter is there, surely enough. he sits hunched over towards the edge and stares out into the dark night sky. he’s in the spider-man suit, which means he must be fresh from the battle.

“i’ve got this,” you murmur to ned and mj, who share a look of mutual agreement.

mj offers a sad smile, ned nodding at you slowly.

without a word, you start to approach peter. his head instantly jerks in your direction.

peter’s eyes are bloodshot, his flushed skin littered with gashes. you can tell by the way he chews the inside of his cheek and blinks rapidly that he’s fighting back tears.

“peter?” you whisper, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his composure.

peter’s eyes squeeze shut as the tears spill over.

you crouch down beside him and wrap your arms around his torso in a hug that says the words neither of you have. peter lets you hold him, but doesn’t hug back. he only hides his face in your shoulder to muffle his sobs.

“peter,” you repeat, sighing his name.

his breathing has become ragged, tears and blood from his cuts wetting your shirt.

“i- i can’t-“ peter attempts to speak, but his voice only comes out as a whimper. “y/n, i can’t. i can’t do this anymore.”

you shush him softly, a hand threading into his curls that are damp from the rain earlier. peter finally winds his arms around your lower back, although his grip is weak.

“can’t do what?” you wonder, combing your fingers through his locks. “keep losing everyone,” he mutters in response.

there’s an edge to his voice now, sounding of anger.

peter releases himself from your embrace, his gaze intense when his eyes lock with yours. he shakes his head and wipes his runny nose with his gloved hand.

“didn’t you hear what jameson said? this is all because of spider-man,” he bitterly recounts. “he’s right, y/n. may was there because of me.”

more hot tears drip down peter’s face. he’s unfazed at this point, already used to it.

“she’s gone, and it’s all my fault.”

you sit up on your knees, your brows knitted together.

“no, don’t say that,” you correct him. “that’s not true. you did everything you could to protect her, i’m sure of it.”

“i could’ve done more,” peter refutes. “i never should’ve let her help me in the first place.”

you firmly grab peter by his shoulders.

“peter, hey. you couldn’t have known what was gonna happen,” you exhale, thumbs stroking his shoulders over the suit.

he doesn’t push you away this time, or interrupt before you can finish.

“you tried, and that’s all may ever would’ve wanted,” you smile reassuringly. “she was so proud of you, no matter what. she always will be.”

peter begins to bawl once again, throwing himself into your arms. he squeezes your waist and buries his face in the crook of your neck. you continue to rub his shoulders gently as you press a couple kisses to his mop of curls.

“thank you, y/n… thank you,” peter croaks, his fingers digging into your sides from how tight he’s hugging you. “i’m sorry.”

“i know, peter,” you coo.

the two of you stay that way for what could be seconds, minutes, hours. peter isn’t sure. he’s found solace here with you, and he’d like to relish in it for as long as he can.

it’s not until peter’s breathing has evened and his eyes have dried that you speak up.

“as for what you said about losing everybody? you still have us,” you promise. “us?” peter questions you.

you move your head out of his line of view so he sees ned and mj. they’ve been here the whole time.

they join you and peter by the edge of the roof, ned’s own eyes watering and mj with a deep-set frown on her features.

mj squats next to you and loops an arm around you and peter. ned does the same on peter’s other side, the four of you pulled into a group hug.

“i’m sorry,” mj says in a hushed tone.

peter grasps at her arm and leans into ned, his head resting against yours. the familiar salty liquid coats his cheeks.

“we’re here,” you remind peter, you four huddled close together.

it’s exactly what he needs to keep going.

#nwh spoilers #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine

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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 years ago

Text

Room with a View - A Captain Syverson/Reader Smut Drabble.

Captain Syverson - “I’m going to fuck you up against the window, so anyone who might be looking can witness how well you take my cock.” For @thereisa8ella

Warnings - Smut below the cut! Minors DNI!

Whenever he’s on leave, he likes to treat you right, take you away on vacation, or surprise weekend’s away, like this one you’re on now, overlooking the whole of Manhattan through the huge floor to ceiling window in your beautiful room. There’s a block of condominiums dead ahead, offices to the side and a view of Midtown to the right, the traffic still so busy, even at 10pm at night.

“Here, drink this while I get you out of this dress,” Sy tells you, offering forth your favourite beverage, the alcohol sliding down your throat, warming you inside as on the outside, his lips have a similar effect.

“Sy! You’re revealing me to the whole of New York here!” You exclaim, his strong hands yanking your bandeau dress down, revealing your bare breasts beneath, his skilled fingertips moving to begin stroking your nipples.

He laughs throatily at your statement, pinching at your nipples while you take another swig of your drink. “Darlin’, this is nothing. I’m going to fuck you up against the window, so anyone who might be looking can witness how well you take my cock.”

Your eyes widen at the mere suggestion of such, except with Sy, he isn’t suggesting. He’s telling you that’s exactly what is going to happen. His big hands knead at your tits, your body melting into him, malleable to his ministrations entirely, downing your drink before turning in his arms to kiss him. He tastes like bourbon and dominance, his hands yanking at your dress until it lands at your ankles, a wave of fabric you step out from before you’re flattened against the window.

His thick fingers slide into your thong, invading your slit without pause or tease, stroking you precisely, your clit hardening against his expert touch while he kisses you, so wantonly. God it’s hot. He’s hot. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? My fingers all over your little clit, huh?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, his mouth moving to your neck.

“I bet you want ‘em real deep in your pussy, right?”

“I want your cock in there more.”

He chuckles, pushing them in there anyway. “Ain’t you lucky you’re gonna get both?” Your insides are raked wet, the plush slick of your cunt flexing around his dextrous fingers greedily, Sy gauging your need and flexing at his knuckles, dragging your sweet spots as he fucks you deep.

“Take off your clothes and fuck me. I’m ready for you to show everyone how well I take your cock,” you instruct, pawing at his clothes needily. You desire for nothing else than his hot skin against yours.

Desire rages between you, Sy only moving his fingers from beneath you for long enough to shed his clothes, returning them to fuck you assiduously, his erection pressing to your hip as you kiss one another with wanton lust, his hand then tearing the scant fabric of your thong from you with one strong yank.

Finally, you get what you desire, your craving sated when he turns you around, levering your leg up and bending to spear you, spreading your molten pussy around the blunt press of his cock.

You gasp, eyes fluttering, breath knocked from your lungs as the pressure of his hardness evokes immediate, tingling pleasure, his hips rolling against you, bottoming out as he stretches you deliciously. You’re enjoying it so much, but after opening your eyes, your heart drops at seeing there’s a room full of people all pointing and watching you. Somehow, you didn’t really think anyone could actually see what Sy told you he wanted them to watch, you taking his cock well.

No one is ridiculing it though, from what you can see. They’re shocked, but look like they’re enjoying it, a couple of them making gestures of encouragement, cheering you on, almost. That’s the point when you realise that it’s actually quite a turn on, knowing you’re fuelling such reactions. It truly arousing, being watched as you take his many inches as well as you’re doing.

“Oh god, Sy. Don’t stop,” you gasp, pounding your hands against the glass as you cry out, your man fucking up into you, fighting against the tight, velvet clutch of your cunt, pulsing with little tingles around him.

“Stop? No, ma’am. Not until you cum for me. You know the drill, darlin’.” Oh yes, you certainly do, Sy fucking you like a goddamn freight train until your sweeter than sweet finish washes over you entirely, rendering you a shaking wreck.

“I think they enjoyed that almost as much as I did.” You pant, pointing down to the room of people, all clapping and cheering. Sy rumbles a laugh, picking you up and carrying you over to the bed, placing you down ready to enjoy you some more...but for his view only, this time.

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

Text

start searching P.P.

(not my gif)

just a nice, first makeout session with our best boy, peter :)

wc: 2.6k <3

A study session for decathlon turned into six teenagers playing a ridiculous game of confessions. You’d started off strong, going through notes and flashcards and books for the upcoming meet, but after a good hour and a half, MJ had nudged all academic-related supplies out of the way, shoving them to join the floor with the living room rug.

After Peter had gone into the kitchen to get some sodas, Flash had decided on playing truth or dare. When he nearly broke Peter’s front door, Betty had suggested just making it “truth or truth.”

“That’s not even a thing.” MJ plays with the neck of the soda bottle, fingers moving around it sensually.

“It is too!” Betty defends her suggestion. “The girls play it all the time during gym.”

“Is that what you’re always doing?” Ned’s shameless with his question. Betty nods, turning to you and Peter for approval. Peter shrugs, unknowing of his answer, and you nod meekly.

After a measly confession of old crushes and cheated tests, the topic of Flash and his many girlfriends comes up, which lead to deeply over-personal confessions about his sex life. MJ snortled at the heteronormativity, sharing her experiences with a girl from his party a few months ago.

“A real question for the guys, though.” Betty doesn’t falter with her follow up questions. “What’s your favorite thing to do to a girl?”

“During.. It? Like- like it-it?” Peter wheezes out his question, nervousness rushing through him.

“Not necessarily. I mean, just during a makeout session or something.”

Flash hums in thought, and when Ned does the same thing, Peter rolls his eyes.

“You’re not actually going to answer that, are you?”

“Damn right I am.” Flash surprises Peter, and though he’s red in embarrassment, Peter rolls his eyes again with a mumbled “whatever.”

“I’d say… maybe just neck kisses. Boobs are great too, though.” Flash concludes his confession with a proud smirk, and Betty buzzes at the response.

“Boobs are great, though.” MJ agrees with him absentmindedly. “I love me some neck kisses, though.”

You look away from the group, catching Peter’s eyes for only a moment before you look the other way again. MJ catches the entire encounter, turning the conversation to you.

“Y/N/N,” She nods her head at you. “Neck kisses or regular kisses?”

“I’ve never gotten neck kisses before,” You hide the disappointment in your voice as best you can. “So I really have nothing to compare regular kisses to. Any kisses are great, though.”

Flash’s brows furrow, and before MJ can stop him, he asks a follow up question. “Aren’t you like… dating Parker?” He motions toward the wall-crawler sitting beside you, and MJ physically slaps her forehead.

“Shut up, dingbat.”

His eyes widen. “You two haven’t even made out yet?!”

“Shut up, Flash!” Betty tries to whisper-yell it while slapping his leg. The boy holds his hands up defensively, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just seems a little weird, especially when Peter’s a little horny ball of excitement.”

“Excuse me?” Peter gasps dramatically. “I am not a ball of horniness.” Flash tilts his head, eyebrow raising while he sends him a side eye. Peter huffs. “I’m not! MJ, back me up here!”

“No can do, Parker.” She shrugs, and Flash yells out a loud “HA!”

“Whatever.” Peter replies, face burning with a bright blush. You chuckle, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers.

When the game goes on, you get up to grab a few snacks from the kitchen, and MJ follows you into the room, jumping at the opportunity to question you about earlier. Neither of you notice Peter, who’s listening from a crevice with empty soda bottles in his hands.

“You’ve never even made out with him? Don’t you want to?”

You feel yourself burning up at the intensity of the questions. “Of course I do! We just haven’t… I don’t know? It’ll happen, I guess. I’m staying the night so maybe something’ll happen later.”

She nods along, and the two of you continue conversing about other things. Peter’s face is as hot as the sun, and though he tries to contain it, he can’t do anything but allow himself to blush.

When two minutes go by, he turns the corner and enters the kitchen, setting the empty bottles in the recycling bin.

“Hey, babe, MJ.” He sends each of you a nod before directing his attention to you. “Are you cool if we… pack up a little early today? I’m exhausted.”

You nod understandingly, getting ready to clean up and put everything away. When Peter leaves the room, MJ finally lets out an exasperated breath.

“Y/N!”

“What?!” You turn to her, slightly frightened.

“He totally heard us!”

“What?”

“He wants us to leave early! What do you think he’s going to do when he gets you alone, hm?” She raises her brows, and you roll your eyes.

“He said he was tired.”

“No, he said he wanted everyone to leave because he’s tired.”

“And the difference is?” You shut the sink off, scrubbing a glass and rinsing it before handing it to MJ for drying.

“He may be tired of us, but he won’t be tired of you.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“Sure it is.” She sets the final plate into the cupboard before drying her hands. You do the same, grabbing a paper towel before standing upright, eyes on MJ. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, leaning in for a hug. It lasts momentarily, and then she’s leaving the kitchen. You wave goodbye as Betty and Ned leave through the front door, hands intertwined. You send Flash your last smile while he takes a bag of doritos with him.

MJ is deep into conversation with Peter, and you don’t think anything of it while you put the food away.

“Did you only kick us out because you want to make out with Y/N?”

“Wh-what? No!” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, assuring her otherwise. She sends him a look, and he huffs, giving in. “Fine, yes I did. But she doesn’t know, right?” MJ smirks, shaking her head. “Not a clue.”

Peter lets out a cute “phew,” and MJ rolls her eyes one final time before grabbing her coat.

“Don’t be too much of a horny ball, though.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

As the front door finally closes, Peter joins you in the kitchen. You’re cleaning the counter, and when he wraps his arms around you from behind, you hum in approval. He’s warm, and you melt into him.

“Hey there.”

“Hi.” He’s mumbling into your back with a soft smile.

“Whaddya wanna do now?”

You turn around in his grasp, hugging him back while you peer up into his eyes. He nibbles on his lip nervously, not sure how to respond to your question with the answer he’s thinking of.

“Hello?” You giggle, waving a hand up. “I said what do you want to…” It’s only then that you realize how close his face is to yours, lips mere inches away. You glance down at them for a moment, something Peter takes note of. “Do?” You finish your sentence with a shaky exhale. You’re grateful you brushed your teeth after eating. Peter’s glad he did, too.

“I want you to…” He plays with a strand of your hair, twirling it softly. You hear him swallow thickly, and it makes you do the same. “To teach me how to… make out.”

Your eyes widen, and you bite your bottom lip to suppress any smiles and sheepish smirks. “Yeah? What makes you think I’m a good teacher for that?”

It’s his turn to bite his lip, but he doesn’t do a very good job at not smiling, because his smirking face is centimeters away from yours.

“Just my gut feeling.”

You blink, eyes darting around the room. You realize you’re still in the kitchen, a place entirely unfit for the occasion. “Bedroom?”

His eyes widen at the sudden suggestion, and you’re quick to roll your eyes. “Keep it in your pants, Parker. You know what I meant.”

He smiles sheepishly again, scratching his neck while he nods. He offers you a hand, and when you intertwine your fingers, he’s smiling again, pulling you quickly into the safety of his room.

Eventually, the two of you get ready to sleep before sitting across from each other on the mattress. Peter is nervously fiddling with his fingers, tugging on the ends of his navy blue Midtown High hoodie. You’re seated calmly across from him, but inside you’re burning up out of anxiousness for what’s about to come. You have no idea what you’re going to do or say, but you have a few ideas in mind.

“What… what’s first?”

“Your hands.” You point to them as if he doesn’t know they’re his own. You swallow before continuing. “You can put them… in my hair,” You demonstrate, hands guiding him. “Holding my face,” You nuzzle into his grasp,“On my waist,” they move again, “My hips. My back.” his fingers run along your spine, the action causing goosebumps to rise.

“And what about…” Peter swallows again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, wetting them. “What about my lips?”

You scoot closer to him. “Against mine,” You whisper it with how close you are to the brunette. He breathes in, holding his breath while biting his lip again. His hands stay on your waist. “And then… and then you can move to my jaw, and my neck, and my collarbones. And you can… you can kiss and…” With the proximity between you and Peter, you’re holding your breath. He’s waiting for you to finish so he can start the hands-on part, but he takes the opportunity to speak instead.

“And… and hickeys? Am I allowed to mark you like that?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay.” His words are soft and gentle, but the context of them makes you hot with anticipation. His next words capture your breath. “Can I kiss you?”

“Mhm.”

When his lips first make contact with yours, it’s awkward and tense. You can feel the nervousness oozing out of the both of you, but after a few moments and some scarce giggling, you loosen up. Peter gets comfortable too — hands reaching out for your skin while your lips move feverishly. He’s growing restless, and after a few moments, he pulls you closer, only breaking apart momentarily to bring you onto his lap. With his super strength, the task seems simple and easy, but you laugh nonetheless.

His fingers are calloused when compared to your soft and supple skin. They’re rough yet tender, touching you gently but needily. His hair is arranged messily, curls strewn about while your fingers distractedly tug and twist the strands. Peter emits small noises, huffs and gruffs, and you exhale shakily, out of breath.

He sends you a messy grin, face flushed and hair jumbled. Within seconds, his lips are back on yours. He leans in hesitantly, almost as if he’s asking for permission, and when you nod, he smiles against your lips, filling the gap.

You adjust as your lips continue their love fest, and suddenly, you’re straddling him. His hands are low on your back, fingers moving delicately. When your fingers move to his hair, pulling and tugging, his lips move away from yours and down to your neck and jawline. He moans against you, the vibrations sending tingles through your spine and core.

“Who taught Peter Parker how to kiss so well?” You suck in a breath as his lips find your sweet spot for the first time. You feel his lips curve into a smile, shy yet cheeky, and he chuckles.

“You.”

You exhale shakily, head tilted up while you smile. “Was it me who corrupted the innocent Peter Parker?”

He hums, lips detaching from your neck to peer at you. You exhale again, eyes connecting with his. He grins again, and your face flushes as you realize his hair is an absolute mess.

“You gave me so many reasons to switch.” He breathes out his words, slurring them together while his lips urge to connect with your skin again. They find your sweet spot easily, as if it’s second nature, and they suck a hickey into your skin. His tongue peaks out from his mouth, licking over the freshly nipped skin. You suck in another breath, unprepared and unexpected for the feeling of it.

Eventually, his lips move away from your special spot. They trail further down your neck, sucking in hickeys and nipping and kissing the skin. Your fingers move from his hair to his shoulders, gripping him with every kiss. Your eyes are closed in bliss, and when Peter looks up for a moment, he smirks to himself, admiring your state of bliss.

“Reasons to switch to what?” He hums against you, pulling away again. “Maybe not to switch but... just to unleash the beast.”

You giggle, eyebrows raising slightly. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“And… this so-called ‘beast’... what makes him so beastly?”

Peter bites on his bottom lip, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You don’t mention anything, though, merely sucking in a breath and waiting for his response.

“He’s… dirtier.” “Dirtier?” You giggle again. “You sound like a schoolgirl.” “It’s true!” He huffs. “He’s dirtier and kinkier and sexier.”

“Is that so?”

“I seem to think you believed that, too.” His lips hover over a spot on your neck, breath warm as he exhales against you. You know what he’s doing, and as you exhale shakily, you nod your head.

“We’ll see about this beast of yours.”

He hums again, lips continuing their journey against your skin. He’s warm and encapsulating against you, lips wet and slick. You lick your lips, head tilting downwards after a few moments. Peter peers up again, hand moving up your spine sensually. You inhale again, biting your bottom lip while you connect your lips again. He kisses back immediately, grinning against you.

The two of you get lost in the kiss, and his hands move low on your back again. Yours take home on his chest, fingers toying with the strings of his hoodie. He’s snug, sitting right under your touch, and you long to feel his skin. You huff, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt. He grins again, pulling it off and throwing it mindlessly to a corner of his room.

“Don’t get fussy on me.” You can hear the grin on his face. His biceps come into your view, and your fingers immediately wrap around them, squeezing sensually. It’s Peter’s turn to suck in a breath, taken aback.

Your plush lips find his neck for the first time, and suddenly the roles have reversed. You’re hesitant at first, lips discovering his golden skin, testing the waters. When you come across a particular spot that makes him gasp, you smirk and suck a hickey into the skin. You’ve found his sweet spot, and now you’re endlessly nibbling its skin.

A few moments go by and eventually your lips move on, tongue darting out to lick at the spots you’ve sucked purple marks into. Peter’s holding his breath as you do so, flustered and breathless. You smirk again.

“Doesn’t seem very beastly to me.”

He huffs, peering at you whilst you chuckle. “He’s in there.”

“You’re gonna make me find him?”

Peter shrugs from within your grasp, and the two of you burst out into laughter.

“Still wanna find the beast?” Peter’s hopeful after a few moments of separation from your lips. You roll your eyes but nod anyways.

“‘M not gonna stop until I find him.” You mumble your words against his lips, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his mouth. He tongue plays with his sharpest tooth, and then his lips are back against yours again.

“Then start searching.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker fic #peter parker smutty #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker concept #fluffy concepts #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker blurbs #peter parker imagines #boyfriend!peter parker

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insufferablelust · 4 years ago

Note

Cockwarming Don Reid with his men in the next room

Warning : Cockwarming, mob boss! Spencer, Mean dom!spencer, mention of killing, degrading name calling, filthy.. so fucking filthy, exhibitionism, literally almost fucking in front of people, mention of sub space, d/s theme obviously, and yeah.. 18+ please.

MASTERLIST HERE.

“Princess, come here.” Spencer pat his lap with a burning gaze directed to the cute little thing sat ontop of his office couch like a queen. Work days usually means no playing around, for Y/N it’s one of those days where she’d usually spend at her apartment doing her tasks or paint something for the young don.

But on rare occasions such this, where all the workload of responsibilities upon responsibilities piled on his shoulder, he’d bring her in, he’d tell her to sit all pretty, and continue to study unless daddy calls and that’s exactly she has been doing for hours now, sketching the wooden figurine on his shelf with her legs up the table and her back rests against the couch. She looks prettier than usual he thought, not that his butterfly never look anything less than amazing but she just radiates that softness, that gentle and tender touch which he often depraved himself of— being in the mob especially as the leader, he has to be on the rough rugged edge all the time, he cannot be tender and soft but he can certainly have you as his own personal reminder that not all things in life is as bad as what he has seen.

Y/N, the darling butterfly happily obliged as she stood up after placing her sketchbook down the table and make her way to where he sits on the large chair— colored burgundy red. The soft knitted knee high socks that clad her feet anxiously drags her to the edge of his desk with her fingers fumbling on the hem of her flower dress, no matter where and when, or how and why— he always intimidates her in ways that seemed to flutter her insides with pure wanton yet desirable lust, all for him.

Encased in a black suit, he sat up straight as he holds her hips before placing her down atop his lap with her back against his front, his perfect little princess. “Dressed so prettily for daddy. Haven’t seen this one before pet, did you buy them just to impress me hm?” if it were any other man, talking to you like you owe them you would flip their asses off and beat them to pulp— but when he says it, demands it, caress your soul with it— you couldn’t refuse nor deny.. not that you would ever want to anyway because yes, yes you did buy them to impress him, to make him as weak as she is for him.

She nodded shyly with a small “yes daddy” before squirming gently ontop of his lap whilst Spencer caress her inner thigh— calloused rough fingers brushing up and down her god glowing skin, intensifying all the tension that builds inside of her. Her skin prickled with heat as he inches his sinful fingertips up up up creeping upon her clothed dripping wet cunt, causing her to mewl lowly in frustration, grinding her ass back against his growing crotch.

“Daddy has so many things today pet, so many fucking things to keep you happy, to buy dresses like this one.” He whispered onto your ear, his lips pressing against your temple with his curls gazes against your heating cheek as you nod and shut your eyes tight— feeling his knuckles graze right against your clothed aching swollen clit, making you buck up your hips as he laughs behind you, chest rumbling with triumph.

“Jesus petal, haven’t done anything and you’re soaking my pants already? are you always this needy? fucking hell.” He shook his head as he keep on laughing condescendingly, whilst you writhed and squirm on his lap, your face nudging against his neck. “Please d-daddy..” Oh how he loves your mewls, your sweet sweet moans just sent all the blood from his head rushing down toward his cock— making him all dizzy and dying to feel your clutching heat.

“Shh you want Morgan to hear you, is that it? want my men to hear your filthy moans, bunny?” His words sent tingles up your spine, through your bloodstream as his fingers skillfully tear your panties apart, with you gasping— eyes as glassy as ever and mind absolutely mush with tension and pleasure. “Daddy asked you a question.” He growled, before slapping your bare wet soaking cunt few times which you respond with loud cries and squirm on his lap.

“Sorry daddy! f— please i... oh mmh!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you feel his thumb grazing innocently to your little nub of pleasure numbing nerves, flicking his thumb up and down it focusing on the rhythm as he might as well play you like his favorite instrument. “All needy and you can’t even get a proper word out, such a mindless baby.” He scoffed before slapping right on your clit multiple times.

“Ah! Ah oh! daddy!” You screamed, having no care in the world if his men heard— you knew in the back of your mind that they heard and that alone sends a new surge of adrenaline throughout your body, leaving you pliant and in need for daddy— daddy’s cock, fingers, anything just anything. “Here’s what you’re going to do, pup. You’re going to keep daddy’s cock warm whilst i do my job, if you behave like a good little girl then i’ll let you cum, but if you decided to think with your cunt and move i swear to god i’ll edge you six fuckin ways to sunday, you hear me?” You felt him fumbling with his zipper as he took his cock out, with you whining— babbling ‘yes yes yes daddy’ against his skin, eyes all droopy and fucked with your neatly applied mascara drip down your cheeks.

“Up you go pet, slide daddy in.” You shakily stand, bunching the hem of your dress on your hips before you straddled his thigh and looks down to get ahold the base of his well endowed cock— pulsing with need and heat. “Fuck, go on.” He urged you as he grab ahold of your hips before you lined him up with your sopping wet entrance and sink down slowly— down his massive throbbing length that has you moaning, panting.

“You can do better than that slut”

Smack!

“N-no! daddy please help! please i— ungh you’re too big!” You shook your head as you tried and tried to take him, all of him but everytime you sink another inch— your body felt like it’s been penetrated into a whole new level as if it hadn’t this morning or the night before, “Fucking helpless baby, look at you, pathetic and needy.” He growled before thrusting up inside you at once, forcing his thick length to slip fully inside your pumping dripping heat causing you both to moan out.

“Oh! oh mmh daddy.. shit..” You felt him deep, deep deep inside you, the tip of him grazing against your spot oh so deliciously, whilst you pant and convulse against him, clutching his cock like a vice. “Perfect little cunt, such a perfect doll for me.”

—

You’re convinced that if god was real, at this moment god must hate you for existing, must hate you so much that the universe sent you this adonis of a man to torture and blur the line of sanity and lunacy for you, torment your pleasure in mockery and sarcasm of how he stayed calm with you perched on his godly lap, panting like a puppy in heat as his thick length penetrated your insides as if it belongs there— forcing every bit of your self control over the teetering edge. You’re loosing your mind, that you’re sure of.

It has been no longer than 30 minutes but your toes have curled and uncurled themselves for eternity, your walls grew slicker and slicker each time he ‘shift’ accidentally, as you mewl and bit the skin on his neck, by the last minute of the long 30– you were trembling in order to resist yourself not to move, for the last bit of your working mind still recognized how severe the punishment would be if you were to move, the don is not one to fuck around with— oops.

Just as he stretches his hand, the knock of the door sent you into a spiraling mess, looking up to Spencer with wide eyes— all glassy and doe as you shook your head, “Daddy, d-daddy n-no..” Shivers runs deep and thrumming lively on your bloodstream as you saw his devilish handsome smirk.

“Be good and quiet, pup.” He whispers

“N-no! no daddy please! i—“

“Come in.” The sound of his voice and door cracking open has you shutting your eyes as tight as you could, face buried on the crook of his neck as he grips onto your thigh. You took a peek at the tall standing figure on the middle of his office, recognizing so clearly that it’s in fact Hotch not only that Emily and Morgan were also present, fuck— you’re fucked as you clenched hard causing the don to hiss and slap your thigh.

“What did i tell you about behaving hm? are you going to behave or should i let them deliver your punishment for you little one?” He growled in your ear, making you let out a pitiful whimper, trying as best as you could to resist the need to look at your patrons and to stay still. “No please, i’ll behave.” you muttered meekly, panting at the raging burning release that has been coiling inside your body.

“No please what? you know better, minx.” He shook his head before grasping your neck with his palm as he take a look at your messy figure. “No daddy p-please..” you bat your eyelash at him as he went in to kiss your lips with a small ‘good girl’ before getting back to his business.

“What is it?” He muttered coldly, one hand on the whiskey glass that he took a sip off every once in awhile and the other secured tightly around your lower tummy— you knew what he’s doing, the game is clear, you knew he likes to feel how you can feel him inside of you, pressing against your sweet spot and your slick canal tried so hard not to clench at the thought.

“The shipment hasn’t arrived yet to midtown, it supposed to days ago but we just heard from Garcia that the Kingsley’s hadn’t even reached out to her in weeks.” Although confident, you could tell there’s a hint of fear and worrisome latched behind Hotch’s voice, one does not fuck with your dom, one does not absolutely delay the shipment of his drugs— no no those cannot do.

“Have you traced it back to them?” The voice that rumbled against your back was eerily calm and deeper, resisting every urge inside his body to lash out— you know that very well. His fingers tighten and tighten its hold onto the glass which you could clearly see his knuckles turning white, you just hope that the poor glass won’t break.

“Yes don, Walker and Alvez went to their base and it was empty, looks like they left in a hurry.” You could feel it before you even see it, heard it, the way his blood pumps just even faster before a lound cracking of the wood sent fear and adrenaline through everyone’s bloodstream, “I don’t fucking care how many, and who’re you going to kill, but i want that fucking shipment arrived to midtown by dawn or i’ll pluck their own eyes myself.” His voice somehow rise and fell deeper at the same time, rumbling deep inside his chest which send shivers on everyone’s spine as they nod with a small uniformed ‘yes don’ before heading out hurrily— no one questions him, no one dared to speak against him, even if they know they’ll have the bloods of people (though bad) on their hands by nightfall.

His threat lives like a venom that stuck on their throat as they pursued their mission— one don does not get his hand dirty let alone going round plucking some low life mob’s eyes— or the end result could be.. would be catastrophic. These Kingsleys have one hell of a problem heading their way.

and you.. you have one hell of a raging frustratingly mad Mob boss in your hand.

—

Y/N’s head couldn’t even process the whole thing before she screamed in absolute pain when he pulled out harshly and bent her over his desk, knocking his whiskey glass onto the floor, clattering with no care in a world. Your mind begs for you to soothe him, soothe his anger yet your cunt aches and throbs with the need to let him use you— take the anger out to you, and ruin you for eternity. You’re his, and you’re ready.

“Stay fucking still.” Spencer slapped your ass harshly, causing you to jump in the position, your legs curled up for a moment as he gripped your hair tightly and grasp your neck with his unoccupied hand, “You’re going to stay still and be a good cocksleeve for me, i’m going to use you like you’re my toy and i won’t stop unless you say your safeword, got it?” His breath fans over your heated skin as you shake and tremble, your mind fuzzy with needs and mush of pleasure— blurring your absolute senses and submitting yourself fully to the mercy of his hand— his cock.

“Use your words, dumb little slut.” He hissed, choking your neck even tighter, with much force and you cried out, “Yes! yes sir, use me, i.. i’m yours..” just as you muttered out, your walls involuntary clenching at the intrusion of his cock plunging deep deep deep inside of you in one go, making you scream out in absolute pleasure and pain.

Spencer might’ve seen red— but when he delves deep inside of your tight heat, he saw the absolute heaven on earth as he begins to thrust in and out of your cunt in a brutal space, knocking his desk toppers off, and making you mewls and screams.

“Fucking tight little cunt— mine huh? isn’t it fucking mine pup?” He slammed into you over and over again as his balls hit your clit in an antagonizing pleasure whilst you writhe below him, forcing your eyes to stay open with all the power in your body looses control. “Its— mmmh ngh fuck! it’s y-yours sir! yes yes yes!” Your moans filled the entire building but neither of you care as Spencer drove his cock home everytime he sinks inside your tight pussy.

“Being such a good whore, letting me use you as my personal fucktoy, just to let my anger out.” He laughs maniacally, pistoning his hips as you clench your walls tightly to elevate the pleasure for you both, causing the room to tremble as you moan and cries out loud, “ungh yes! yes yes your whore daddy— mmh fuck me!” You could feel all the drool drips down your lips as he fucked you stupid atop of his desk but neither of you care nor have the patience to even pay attention because in his mind— the messier the better.

“Won’t be able to walk for days, pet. Fucking cunt going to drool for me everytime you see all the marks i fucking left on you.” He growled, bringing his palm over your ass before giving it a smack over and over again as your body lunges forward trying to get away with how all the friction is causing you to went into over sensitivity. But being the mean dom that he is, Spencer laughs as he pulled you back towards him by your hips. “Where are you going, bunny?”

“Please p-please let me cum, sir... ah!” You arched your back perfectly when the tip of his finger move down down down to where your swollen sensitive clit was, rubbing quickly in a fast pace just to send you over the edge, testing you, daring the orgasm out of you. “Wanna cum petal? hm wanna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” He whispered, one hand continues to rub your clit as the other focuses on holding you against him whilst his hips drives up deep— so deep that the tip grazes against your cervix.

“mmhh ah uh uh uh!” Your eyes lolled back trying to find a cohorent sentence— anything you can say to him but no matter what you’re trying to say was rendered to sinful moans and cries instead as you were right on the brink, “You can do better than that, c’mon bunny, beg daddy to cum.” he stills for a second, pressing in deep as he slaps your cheeks not once but twice— bringing fresh tears flows from your eyes.

“I.. ungh please daddy please! let me cum! been so good for you, please— want you to fill me up too.. fill your baby up, daddy!” Your high pitched voice rang an alarm through the circuit of his lust and anger laced mind, you’re slipping into your space and you’re slipping fast with your eyes just glazes absolutely flying through the realm of pleasure sensitivity.

“Good girl butterfly, such a good fucking girl, wanna cum? c’mon cum..” He whispered, before thrusting his hips in and out slowly, feeling the bliss of your overly wet and tight cunt engulfing him— milking him to cum inside, “Cum for daddy, princess, that’s it.. ohh... that’s it baby, good girl.” You cried out silently as you cum hard around his cock, muscles clenching so tightly that you sent him to release himself inside of you, thick ropes of cum paints your inside as you both moan and tremble.

“My good girl, shh thats it— best cunt ever.. that’s it, so so good for me.” He whispered softly, backing down to where his chair was pushed aside, bringing you with him before sitting down. You groaned out a loud scratchy, “daddy..” As you feel his cock shifted deeper inside of you, your eyes closed as he holds you and calms you down.

“Shh shh princess, just stay here like this. such a good girl, gonna keep me warm while i wait for them aren’t you?”

Although your cunt practically ache and scream for you to not say yes, your love and lust filled mind fogged with utter desire— just nods whining an agreeable mumble— just for him.

This will be a long long day and even a longer night.

#littlebutterfly #spencer reid smut #insufferableblurb #mgg smut #dom!mgg #dom!spencer #smut #criminal minds smut

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