#with their money i could do better no joke

[lovegalor333]

Deck the Halls

part one of paigemas

paige buecker x reader

you and paige get into the christmas spirit

⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆

“It’s the most beautiful time of the year, lights fill the streets spreading so much cheer! I should be playing in the winter snow, but imma be under the mistletoe!” You giggled to yourself as your girlfriend belted out lyrics from behind you. “Promise me you won’t quit basketball?” You say turning the stove off, the hot coco you’d been stirring, finally smooth and hot enough to drink. “I’m a good singer!” Paige insists taking the freshly poured mug from you, “Uh huh and you’re also seven foot.” You joke taking a sip from your own mug. The hot drink was sweet and rich, exactly what you both needed after being out in the cold December weather.

You and Paige had decided today was the day you’d turn your apartment into an actual Christmas wonderland. She’d spent way too much money in Target, insisting on adding everything you picked up into the cart. Multicoloured baubles, twinkling lights, tinsel, paper stars and angels and her own addition; the most amount of mistletoe you’d ever seen.

“Do we really need that much?” You’d asked as Paige pilled it into the shopping cart. “Yes. I need every excuse to kiss you.” She said, holding a piece over your heads and pressing her lips to yours. “You don’t need mistletoe to kiss me, P.” You’d told her but she said it was festive and absolutely necessary and who were you to argue. If your girlfriend wanted to kiss you constantly, you were happy to let her. Mistletoe or no mistletoe.

With your favourite Christmas playlist blaring through the speakers, cinnamon candles lit, filling the space with a deep, spicy scent you and Paige got to work decorating the tree.

Wrapping the lights around caused some issues and you had Paige redo them at least three times, “I’m getting dizzy.” Paige complained after circling the tree over and over trying to get the string of lights absolutely perfect. “Just once more, please.” And of course Paige obliged, she always did.

“I actually have something else for the tree.” Paige piped up as you both stood back admiring your handy work so far. “Really?” You asked raising your brows inquisitively and she nodded before rooting around in her rucksack by the door, “Close your eyes.”

You obeyed, squeezing your eyes shut and you felt Paige come to stand in front of you, “Ok - open.” You peel your eyes open and are met with Paige holding up an ornament.

A clay heart, with a red ribbon threaded through to display it. It had both your initials stamped onto it, in sparkly gold paint and the year in cursive underneath. “Oh my god, P! I love it.” You say looking up at your girlfriend who has a very proud smile on her face, “I knew you would.” She beams, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You and Paige placed the ornament in the centre of the tree, pride of place. “Ok, just the star to go on.” You say picking up the glittery silver tree topper, “You do it, long legs.” You say handing the star to Paige but she shakes her head, “Uh uh. You do it. I’ll make it all wonky.” She’s right, but you definitely cannot reach the top of the tree, even on your tip toes, “I can’t reach.” You pout stretching up as far as you could. “I got chu.” Paige says and she crouches down in front of you and taps her shoulders, “Paige, if I fall-“ “Trust me, I got chu.” Paige interrupts and taps her shoulders again, “Climb on.”

You manoeuvre your legs over your girlfriends shoulders and she holds your legs firmly as she rises from her crouched position, “Stop tensing,” She chuckles, “I’m not going to drop you.” She reassures. “You better not Paige.” You say placing a hand on her head to steady yourself. “Baby, I lift more than you at the gym, I promise you’re not falling.” Balanced on her six foot frame, you can almost reach the ceiling so placing the star ontop of the tree is light work.

Paige places you down and you stand together, her arm around your waist, your head leant on her shoulder as you take in the sight in front of you both. “It’s perfect.” Paige praises, kissing your head, “It is. Merry first Christmas together.” You say snuggling more into your girlfriend. “The first of many.”

im so sorry this is out late 😭😭😭😭 im jet lagged and on period and idk i literally forgot my bad, please forgive me 💋

🏷️: @buecketsnbueckets @rosemariiaa @avvwritesstufff @blackbarbie96 @melpthatsme @jnkbueckers @cloclos-posts @onlyhereforpazzi @paigeshirleytemple @mattsmunchkin @bueckersbitch @rizzlerbuckets @numberonepartyanth3m @washing-machine-heart245 @katemartinlvr @girlslovee @taylynbueckers44 @thatonequeer0358 @the-other-half @xxxggggsh @evry1luvzza

[mochidolls]

now introducing . . . corporate!rafe !

uhhh, so this is a byproduct of binge watching industry for the past like two weeks… mdni por favor / brief mentions of masturbation & fingering + bot

now he’s not the y’know traditional multi millionare ceo of a big real estate firm daddy’s company who fucks his secretary from time to time (close enough but not quite).

corporate!rafe is a stocks bro —neck-deep in crypto, efts, and the kind of investments that make everyone else’s eyes glaze over. he’ll mansplain the basic principles of capitalism over lunch like you didn’t just close a deal worth more than his annual bonus. (rafe: 0, you: 1)

rafe’s favorite pastime is reminding everyone that he clawed his way to the top. him. not ward cameron’s money. not ward cameron’s connections. him. never mind that his “humble beginnings” included a trust fund the size of a small country’s GDP and a private boarding school education.

rafe is terrified of being nothing without his wealth and status. the dude is genuinely afraid that without the recognition, the promotions, the stock portfolios, he’ll be just another rich kid with a hollow sense of identity.

this is what drives him to undermine you: if you’re successful, it forces him to confront his own feelings of inadequacy, and god forbid, that cannot happen.

corporate!rafe has icanfixyou syndrome. in his silly little goofy brain, he is the one who has control, not you. the problem is, you’re fully aware of what he’s doing, and you’re only more determined to get under his skin. he keeps failing to win you over, and he doesn’t know how much it pisses him off. you don’t need him. he can’t stand it.

rafe has no idea how to flirt. his version of courting you is begrudgingly fetching your coffee order and getting it completely wrong. you like a hazelnut latte with just the right amount of foam? congratulations—you’re now the proud owner of a black americano that tastes like shit and the depths of a black hole. grim, i know.

and please don’t start to fantasise about him fucking you in the most nefarious of ways. quite frankly he was all too repulsed and blinded by the sheer eager need to be simply better than you to even imagine you in that light.

that is…until the hotel incident.

to summarise (and quite frankly not waste your time): HR’s genius solution for “team bonding” was sticking you two in interlinked hotel rooms. pure hell. he leaves his damp towels everywhere, his skincare products are obnoxiously expensive (and you definitely didn’t try his moisturizer when he wasn’t looking), and you’ve caught him singing jack harlow in the shower. loudly.

rafe had bare witnesses too many nip slips to be considered ‘normal’ around you. thus his little fantasies about you began.

you wore a bikini (a bit revealing for a work trip, but i mean…c’mon you’re in mallorca!) the bikini was a choice—your choice. rafe spent the entirety of the beach day trying to look anywhere but directly at you. that night however? a poor pillow suffered, fucked mercilessly and bred into (room service are going to have a ball cleaning that up!)

but…let’s not kid ourselves here, you weren’t less of a pervert yourself.

one single fateful night with his stupid gold heirloom ring glittering in the moonlight, lead to you clutching one of his beach shirts like a feral animal, babbling and praising his name into the soft cotton and wondering if the gold signet ring on his hand could double as a vibrator.

you think it’s a joke that everyone around you sees this mild rivalry between you and rafe? it’s not. it’s a full fledged fucking war. every small win you get, he has to match it. your first big client? rafe’s out there trying to snag a bigger one, even though it’s none of his business.

he hates that you’re quietly, secretly thriving, and the fact that he can’t quite figure you out drives him insane. you’re not his type. you don’t need him. he can’t stand it. he’d rather see you fail than admit he’s even a little bit impressed by you…maybe a little infatuated too.

your relationship with rafe fluctuates between clear disdain and ‘i want to fuck you and have your kids’ ism. he’ll try to play the role of “cool, unattached guy,” but everyone can see how much he carnally wants you.

he’ll make snide comments like, “i mean, it’s not like i’m some guy you’d bring home to meet your parents, but sure, you can always pretend i’m a secret you’re keeping.”

when rafe knows he’s gone too far and messed with you too much, he’ll offer you an apology— “look, i’m not sorry for calling you out, but i can tell you’re a little sensitive about it. so... i’m apologizing in the way that doesn’t undermine either of us. happy?”

he steals your favorite pens; you "accidentally" unplug his monitor before meetings. his powerpoints are aggressively over-designed, and you make sure to point out every typo during team calls. HR doesn’t even bother with your complaints anymore—they just schedule you for the same meetings so they can watch the fireworks. it’s childish, really.

on the surface, rafe oozes alpha male (threw up a bit there, excuse me). but underneath all that bravado? he’s a fucking miserable mess. he constantly checks his portfolio every 5 minutes to make sure his money is still growing. the real kicker? he’s terrified of you being smarter than him, which is why he’s always trying to “one-up” you. he knows you’re not impressed by his stupid wealth, and that drives him crazy.

[realcube]

dilf december

day twenty ⭑ yaku morisuke ⭑ free!

tags: fluff & dilf!yaku

there was a particular leisure centre that yaku liked to frequent during his retirement, for both it's abundant amenities and salacious eye-candy.

as an ex-athelete, he wanted to remain in peak physical condition for as long as possible, since retirement was not an excuse to let himself go. thus, he was up at 6AM sharp every morning and was always one of the first people to arrive at the centre. today, this meant he had the pool all to himself for a while.

bar you, of course, the lifeguard who was being paid to oversee a basically deserted pool.

despite the fact he was the only person in the water, he expected you to be a bit more subtle while watching him, but instead your pericing stare was fixed to him the entire time, following his every move. it was as though your eyes were boring holes into the side of his head. it was quite distracting, and being watched with such scrunity wasn't a pleasant so after around ten mintues, he hauled himself out of the pool and sauntered over to your tall lifeguard chair, holding his towel under his arm.

"is there a problem, hun?" he wasn't typically one to refer to women he doesn't know with pet names, but he did so deliberately on this occassion so his inquiry didn't come off as abrasive.

"no, sir." you shake your head, looking down at him from the top of the chair. "sorry, i didn't mean to stare. it's just that i think i recognise you.. you're a pro volleyball player, right?"

his brows knit together, forming a skeptical expression, "former volleyball player, yeah." he was unsure at whether you were just trying to toy with him, but his lips couldn't help but pull into a slight smirk, not only at the fact he was recognised as an athlete, but at how you are the one who acknowledged him.

meanwhile, your eyes light up and a bright smile spreads across your face as your theory is confirmed and you realise it's really him. and though you were a bit far, from what you could see, he looked even better than you remembered. he stood at the bottom of your chair, clad in a pair of red swimming trunks, with a towel tucked under his arm. he was shirtless, which revealed his toned phyisque, only accentuated by the droplets of water clinging to his biceps, giving him an alluring sheen.

"mhm, i remember you were in the russian volleyball league. i used to be a massive fan." your legs sway with excitement in your chair, which made yaku truly suspicious of whether you were just putting on an act to flatter him or if you genuinely are just so damn cute.

"used to be?" he quirks an eyebrow, shifting his weight on to one leg.

"well, after their amazing libero left, i wasn't so interested anymore." you say with a hum of laughter.

"are you working for tips or something?" he asks, only half-jokingly.

and you heartily chuckle in response, brushing off his comment as though it was complete nonsense, "tips as a lifeguard? i wish."

"what else do you want from me, then? if not money." he insists, light-heartedly. perhaps you weren't just trying to appeal to him for a tip; he developed a tendacy to doubt his own success and impact since his retirement and retreat from the limelight, so there was a chance that you really were a fan of his work at the russian volleyball super league. still, you decided to tease you.

and you played along with the joke by pursing your lips and tapping them with your index finger, humming and pretending to think hard before asking, "could i maybe get an autograph, please?"

yaku's eyes widened, but quickly masked his surprise with a veil of confidence as he gestures for you to come down from your lifeguard chair, "how could i say no to such a well-mannered girl?"

you titter to yourself, until you realise he is being serious. then, with a loud gasp, you swiftly push yourself off your chair and climb down, gracefully landing on the edge of the pool and rushing over to yaku's side. you clasp your hands together in front of him and with starry eyes, you ask, "really?"

"yeah." he nods, crossing his buff arms over his chest, "do you have a pen?"

you pat around in your pockets and managed to find a black sharpie in one of them, so you hand it to him, "could you sign the back of my hand, please?"

he tilts his head, somewhat bemused, and he questions, "are you sure you want me to write on your skin?" he gently takes your hand in his much bigger and damper one, grazing your soft skin with his thumb, "i can do it if you're really sure. it's just i have two kids so trust me, i know how hard it can be to wash sharpie off skin."

you blink, your cheeks growing hotter with each passing second with how delicately he was holding your hand in own. "uh, you're right." you stagger, not wanting to disagree with him, "could you do my phone case instead?"

"sure." he shoots you a warm smile.

with a massive grin plastered on your face, you scamper oover the wet tiles to pull out your phone from your bag which was laying nearby, at the foot of the lifeguard chair. once you got it, you dash back over and hand it to yaku, who scribbles his signature over the back in one swift motion.

when you hands it back, you cling to it happily, and chirp, "thank you so much, sir! this means a lot to me; you were always my favourite volleyball player. you're kids are so lucky to have such a talented father to teach them how to play." until now you were able to contain your incessant fangirling, but now it seemed to come pouring out of you all at once.

not that yaku seemed to mind, in fact he was quite appreciative and thought your rambling made you even cuter. "thank you, sweetheart. but my kids aren't that interested in volleyball." his voice trails off as he speaks.

"that's a shame." you pout, tensing up at the shift in tone from upbeat to sombre. none the less, you try your best to sympathise with him, "i'm sure when they grow up they'll realise how lucky they are. plus, if they don't like volleyball, that means they will introduce you to a new sport that you can learn together!"

"right. my oldest is into swimming at the moment, which is why i am here."

"oh, are you going to teach them how to swim? that is so cute!" you place your hand over your heart, and swoon over how adorable that sentiment is.

yaku chuckles at your reaction, and assures you, "i'm trying, but i don't think i am good enough yet to teach."

"well, i actually happen to run swimming lessons here at the lesiure centre on tuesdays and wednesdays."

your innocent comment ignites something within yaku, and gives him an idea, "do you offer private lessons?"

your eyes widen. although you never originally intended to do private lessons, you found it hard to say no to him, "i could."

"perfect. let's start." he says with a wink, turning on his heels and diving into the water, catching you in the splash-zone in the process.

[alien-girl-21]

Since I won't see my friends until next year, I thought it would be a perfect time to do this again

Joker out and käärijä as random shit my friends say!!

(+ sneaky joost in one entry)

Under the cut because it's LONG

Kris: I actually miss Bojan, i'm going to tell him to come back from New York... but don't tell him I said that, it might get to his head that I actually like him

-

Bojan: writes on the board

Jan: is that arabic?

-

-Bojan's first time taking money out of the atm-

Bojan: what do I do now?

The screen of the atm: please select the language of your transaction

Martin: choose Slovenian, idiot

-

-at the airport-

Bojan: I'm going to get a pamphlet real quick

Jan: sure, I'll wait here

Bojan, coming back empty handed: I think I fell in love

-

Kris: in bojan's defense —not to defend him— but in his defense

-

Nace: hey, you wanna share this cookie?

Jan: sure

Nace: it doesn't break though, I already ate my half

Jan: you're an idiot, of course it can break, here, see? I broke it

Bojan: I ship you guys

-

Jan: -breaks a chair-

Jan: fuck, let me fix it -breaks the chair even more-

Jure: try to put the thing in that hole

Jan: -fixes the chair- Bob the builder 😎

-

(In the gc)

Jere: you want go party?

Bojan: I can't

Bojan: i'm sick and don't want to get worse

Kris: if Bojan isn't going, I'm not going

Jure: no fucking way 🤣

Bojan: I had to read that twice

Bojan: I was about to call him a bitch

-

Allu: if someone was killed while we were together, I think that Jesse, Jukka, and Jere would be the most level headed one's

Jesse: I think that Jere would be the one in charge to calm us

Jere: I would be making jokes like "at least we're better than that guy" and pointing at tommi's dead body

-

Jure: might go to this -shows a flyer for a singles only cruise-

Nace: only 99 euros? That's cheap... when is it?

Bojan: aren't you taken?

Nace: Oh fuck, I am

Bojan: apologize now

Nace, taking his phone out: I'm so sorry, babe

-

-during esc-

Bojan: okay, we're next, we can do this

Nace: -starts doing push ups for some fucking reason-

-

Jere: i go on stage now

Bojan: NOOO— i mean, YESSS

Jere: ?

Bojan: i'm just used to you leaving me alone :(

-

Jure and bojan: playfighting

Jure: now it's your turn, jan!

Bojan: jan wouldn't do that to me because he respects me 😌

Jan, getting ready to slap bojan:

-

(In spanish because there is no way to translate this dad joke)

Bojan: antes de que se me olvide, les quería contar un chiste: donde nacen las computadoras?

Jure: no sé

Bojan: en el mar

Nace: por qué?

Jan: porque navegan

Bojan: porque son peces

Kris: miren a los tremendos payasos que nos cargamos en esta banda

Bojan: 🥰

-

Host: for this, we're going to need groups of 6

Joker out: does a group hug

Bojan, tapping jere's arm: jere, jere

Jere: what?

Bojan: join us

Jere: really? Me? 🥰

Bojan: yes, you, you're part of the group 🥰

Kris: can you two stop?

-

Kris: do you have a pen?

Bojan, handing him a rainbow pen: yeah

Kris: gay pen

Bojan: at least it works

Kris: faggot

Bojan: I am! You have a problem with that?

Kris: I was talking to the pen! Not you!

-

Interviewer: Who would survive the longest in a deserted island?

Everyone: Jure

Bojan: I could survive, I think

Kris: I think that a coconut would fall on your head and you would die

-

Jesse: if a girl asked to peg you, what would you say?

Häärijä: no

Jere: skill issue

-

While watching a football game, in the gc:

Jan: well, i'm going to wait for the game to start while eating my cereal

Bojan: now I want some

Jan: the small box costs 2 euros in the supermarket

Bojan: you know what? I'm going to the supermarket now, i'm going to spend money because of you

Jan, sending a pic of the cereal box: here it is for reference 👍🏻

-

Bojan, after turning the washing machine on and somehow there was a power outage in the whole floor at the same time: ☹

Martin: hey, don't worry, it wasn't your fault, bojč

The electrician, a couple of days later: yeah, so, the outage was caused because someone used too much electricity in this apartment while someone was showering in the unit next to this one

Martin: so it was your fucking fault

-

Jan: I photoshopped us into some world cup images

Nace: it looks like Messi is kissing you, Bojan

Bojan: yeah

Jure: that's your dream right? Messi kissing you?

Bojan: yeah 🥰

-

Someone: yeah, so I spoke with the director, and he asked me if I spoke dutch and I said yeah

Jure: can you speak duch to us?

Someone, in dutch: I can, but what can I say? I just learned it to learn it, not because I liked it

Jan: okay, okay, Kris, it's your turn, reply in Dutch!

Jure: like we practiced

Bojan: literally jumping up and down like an excited puppy

-

Kris: this is bullshit, stupid fucking coordinators, they have shit in the fucking head instead of a stupid brain!

Jan: said the princess

-

-while playing volleyball-

Jure: just imagine the ball is your ex!

Bojan, cradling the ball in his arms: i'm so sorry, it was all my fault, I miss you everyday

Jan: great job, idiot

-

Nace: you look really good today, Bojan

Kris: yeah, your outfit is really well color coordinated

Bojan: thank you, krisko

Nace: and what about me?

Bojan: it's because Kris only bullies me, so a compliment from him matters more

-

Jure: idk if I'll be able to go out this Saturday, my parents are starting to make milk, and because of that I need to close their shop that night

Kris: making milk?

Jure: soy milk, yeah

Kris: Oh, I was about to ask since when did your parents have cows

Nace: moo

Jan: moo

^ they proceed to moo at each other for the next five minutes while the conversation carries on

-

Jere, just minding his business:

Häärijä, handing him a paper crown: you are now the queen of this realm

Jere: ❓

Häärijä: you will be the queen until we vote on who will be coronated next

Jere: thanks?

Häärijä: my pleasure, your majesty

-

Kris: I actually didn't call any of my exes while I was drunk last night, that's a great achievement!

-

Jere: hey guys, sorry if you hear me swearing, i'm playing a videogame..... FUCKING BULLSHIT

-

Jesse, after jere got the piña colada tattoo: hey can I see your prision tattoo?

-

Nace: remember to participate in the meeting

Bojan: i'm watching football

Nace: they're asking you a question bojč

Bojan: GOAAALLL!!!!!

-

Bojere, sitting chest to back in a bench:

Jan:

Bojan: Oh Jan, sorry that we're facing away from you

Jere: you want to hug me too? Join train?

Jan: yeah sure, let me just—

Jere: no! Don't touch me!

-

Kris: I would like to go back in time to meet Jesus and smoke weed with him

-

Käärijä: so, I'm walking to get to work, and I see a line of police cars and I'm thinking "I fucking hope that they don't want to do spontaneous searching because my bag is 90% weed, 10% my actual stuff"

-

Someone: yeah, this is my daughter, she's 4 and learning how to play drums

Bojan: that's your daughter? Oh my gosh 🥺

Kris: Bojan, you have a severe case of baby fever

-

Jere: where are the bathrooms?

Jukka, craning jere's head up to see the giant "TOILET" sign above them: over here

-

Kris: would you be with a guy?

Bojan: I'm bisexual, of course

Kris: what? 😱

Bojan: I already told you, you know this!

Kris: WHAT??

-

Joost, in the middle of having sex: babe wait, codnom broked :(

-

Kris: do you guys think the bouncer will let me in? I'm kind of tipsy

Jan: just go in confidently, he won't suspect a thing

Bojan: the last time he went in confidently he was banned from the club

-

Jan: so, how'd you sleep last night?

Kris: good

Jan: you don't seem so convinced

Kris: I slept in late

Jan: how late?

Kris: midnight

Jan: Oh, how blasphemous, how late

-

Kris, anytime they go to a new city: look at this door! I'm too tall to fit in it... look at this other door! I'm also too tall to fit in it... look at this door!

-

Bojan, about stephanie: she's the world cup and i'm bolivia.... but hopefully I'll be bolivia in '94 and she will still be the world cup

-

Jan: I'm not like Jesus, at all

Bojan: well, you kind of are in some ways

Kris: yeah, you only hang out with fags and prostitutes

Bojan, pointing at them: here you have three fags

Bojan, pointing at jure: and there's a prostitute

-

Jesse: why are you leaving everything for last minute?

Jere: because I fucking want to and I fucking can 😝

Häärijä, holding up the printed meme: 🐴🤝🏻🐴 no pelien

-

During a post-barcelona pre-party meeting:

Kris: I think that's all for today

Bojan: typing very loudly

Jan: who are you talking to?

Bojan: with someone 🥰 you know him already

Nace: ohhh the lovebirds 😏

Bojan: raising his hand up repeatedly

Kris: yes, Bojan?

Bojan: I'm really happy 🥰🥰 -instantly goes back to typing-

Kris: I'm happy for you, man

-

Jere after inflating five balloons for a party: well, my job here is done, time for my very well deserved rest

Jesse: get back up, you fuck, we need to move these chairs

-

Häärijä: bartender! Bartender! Bartender!!

Jere: I'm here, what do you want?

Häärijä: hi :) -leaves-

-

Bojan: sometimes I feel like I am batman and žare is the riddler

-

Jukka: you guys would be the worst clowns at a kid's birthday party. They would ask you for swords, and you would give them snakes

-

Kris, after seeing Jure having a sugar crash: someone give him a fucking celery or something, he's fucking melting on the couch!

-

Jere: you live life like it's last day, say sorry to people, hug people, even punch if you have to punch!

All of joker out: raising their fists to punch bojan

-

Jere: we only had a 5 euro budget for this secret santa so I bought one chocolate bar

Allu: it's not even wrapped!

Jere: wrapping paper is expensive!

-

During the secret santa:

Allu: I'm so fucking scared of seeing who jere got

Jere: so I had to buy something for...... Jesse!

Jesse: FUCK!

[damthosefandoms]

ELABORATE ON UR SODA POST i love hearing ppl talk about him

(this is about this post which flopped for NO REASON btw it was really funny you guys are just mean)

So basically what it all boils down to is less about the joke of “Soda’s a virgin” and more about the fact I have this idea in my head that he tells Darry everything (which I touched on a little in that one fic I wrote that I’m shamelessly plugging here) and he lies his ass off to everybody else so that he can fit in. because idk, he’s a teenage boy. there’s a lot of toxic masculinity going on in this story lol.

Why do I think this? oh, you know. lines like “Soda smokes only to steady his nerves or when he wants to look tough.” Like how he smokes when he goes to try to talk to Pony about Sandy.

The thing is, even Pony points it out in a very roundabout way; I know Pony is an unreliable narrator, but Darry then admits to not realizing how upset Soda was, so it’s really intriguing to me that Pony implies that he thinks if something was up with Soda that Darry would know, because Darry is Soda’s big brother and he’s going to his big brother for advice about this kind of thing. unless there’s been a lot of other stuff going on at the same time to talk about first. Which leads me into this:

“Why didn’t he tell you? I didn’t think he’d tell Steve or Two-Bit, but I thought he told you everything.”

Of course Darry thinks that Soda tells Pony everything, because he’s Soda’s confidant, you know? Soda tells him everything and has probably mentioned wanting to open up to Pony too but that he has trouble with it. And, I mean. “Soda’s a virgin” LOOK.

Steve—and presumably Two-Bit because he’s in the room here—are under the impression that Sandy’s baby is Soda’s. Soda blushing and looking down isn’t embarrassment because “he got a girl pregnant” it’s because he knows he’s lied to his friends and now the story is spreading to Ponyboy and he’s ashamed of lying to Ponyboy because he wants to be honest with him, but he has trouble doing that and he can’t tell Pony the truth with everyone around anyway.

But Darry changes the subject. Calls Soda by that nickname. Because he knows.

And then let’s talk about the line there where Pony says Soda “was no innocent.” That Soda brags with the guys all the time about what he’s done with girls but never about Sandy! Sandy, the first girl Soda’s ever fallen in love with! The first girl he’s ever been serious about! But we know when Soda is around the guys that he’ll do things he doesn’t normally do, like smoke. Darry doesn’t think he’d tell Steve or Two-Bit that he’s not the father. But why would Soda be so shy about it to the guys if he brags about girls all the time? Unless he’s full of shit and never did most of the stuff he bragged about?

And. “He told me he loved her, but I guess she didn’t love him like he thought she did, because it wasn’t him.”

Here’s my theory: there weren’t really paternity tests back in the day, and if there were tests, I mean—you can’t really do that until the baby’s born, you know? And even if you could do you really think Soda or Sandy are gonna have money to figure it out?

How would they possibly know for sure that Soda wasn’t the father? The only way you could know he’s not is if he wasn’t sleeping with her.

“Don’t tell Darry, but I think I’m gonna marry her. After she gets out of school and I get a better job and everything.”

“She didn’t love him like he thought she did.”

“He wanted to marry her but she just left.”

think about how they live in a bible belt state and the time period and the fact that we know the Curtis family went to church once upon a time and how maybe the boys wouldn’t be religious enough to have it affect their views on a lot of things but there’s some… more specific values their parents might to try to get them to stick to considering how they ended up where they did and try to tell me I’m wrong.

Soda wanted to wait for marriage and Sandy… didn’t.

[to-the-stars8]

Home for the Holidays

Jason Todd & Dick Grayson & Tim Drake All Chapters Ao3

December 21, Salt Lake City, UT

They made it to Salt Lake City by sunrise, Jason having pushed the pedal til the car was practically begging for gas, where they stopped for breakfast. Dick bought them breakfast with ten of the thirty dollars they had, while the rest went toward the car.

When Jason returned from the gas station he sat in the booth next to Tim where he began to take his designated hashbrown and sausage biscuit.  

“Jesus Christ, this is good! I think I might spend the rest of the money on another biscuit,” Jason said with his mouth full. That caught Dick’s attention and he ordered Jason to show him the money. Once Jason threw two twenties on the table, far more than they had before, he demanded to know how he got it. “Relax, I didn’t steal it. What do you think I am?”

“Just be careful, Jason, we can’t be screwing around,” Dick said in a low tone, taking the money. 

Tim knew that was a bad idea, and it was only confirmed when Jason reached across the table to grab Dick’s arm. People in the restaurant turned to look at the two of them, which made Dick easily give up the money. 

“Fuck you,” Jason seethed before getting up, grabbing the money and Tim’s sausage biscuit before walking off. 

“Asshole,” The youngest boy called after, leaning over to take Dick’s food. “Consider this payment for acting up.”

“Shut up,” Dick said, looking around at the people now watching them. It made him antsy, and, if Bruce were here, he’d be getting a look for not having better control over the situation. “Give me half, at least.”

“No, you shouldn’t have pissed him off,” Tim said, holding the biscuit close.

“He shouldn’t have stolen that money,” Dick whispered-yelled back. 

“Did you hear what he said? He didn’t steal anything. Money-wise.”

“And you believe him?”

“What if I do?” 

Dick reached over and took a sip of his soda. “Then, how about you go join him in the car.”

Tim looked out the window next to the booth to see the back of Jason’s head through the truck’s back window. He was mid-sip of a soda before he turned it to look toward the busy road, and, after staring for a few seconds, Tim began to slide out of the booth.

Dick was shocked his little brother actually followed through with the suggestion and watched as he walked across the parking lot, hugging himself as he did, before hopping into the car. 

With a grumble, Dick went through his pocket for the five bucks he had hidden away to buy himself another sausage biscuit. 

*** 

Jason hadn’t expected Tim to suddenly hop into the car with him, say nothing, and start munching away on food. He tried to act like the boy wasn’t there, but couldn’t help but to glance at him every few minutes or so. The air between them felt awkward considering their history. 

“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party hop,” The radio played. 

Tim groaned before harshly beginning to change the radio station. “I fucking hate Christmas.”

Jason wanted to say he was surprised by that, but with the black clothes Tim was sporting it was obvious. The kid, while not overtly edgy, did have a sort of angsty teen phase going on. Jay would have related to it if he hadn’t died at fifteen. Suddenly, a rock band was blasting through the car speakers before Tim slowly turned the volume down. 

“So, you hate Christmas…why?”

The kid sat back and shrugged, picking at his food. “I wouldn’t say I hate it. The holidays always felt like a chore– My parents wanted to get Christmas over with, so I never really got to have the fun parts.”

“Oh,” Was all Jason could say. 

“Don’t get all emotional on me now,” Tim joked. “Don’t want it to end up like last time, ya know?”

Jason wanted to be angry, but he had to admit it was a bit funny–He even let out a little snicker before offering Tim half of the sausage biscuit. There was hesitance, but eventually, it was slid across the seat and onto the dashboard to save for later. After a minute or two of silently eating, Tim finally asked about the money. 

“There’s a senior living home right around the corner, I told them I’d clear their walkway of snow in under an hour for twenty bucks. Did it, but then an old lady asked me to help change her tire. She gave me the money even though I said no,” Jason said like it was just another day for him. 

“Why didn’t you just tell Dick that,” Tim quietly asked. 

Jason shrugged before telling him it wouldn’t have changed Dick’s mind about anything. Tim stared down at the road in front of him as he thought. He recalled Bruce telling him that Jason died because he was reckless and angry– The opposite of what a Robin should have been. Robins were meant to be obedient. Loyal. Even Dick had mentioned that Tim’s predecessor didn’t have the same control he did, and his disobedience cost him his life–sounding a little too much like Bruce rather than the kind, funny brother he usually was. 

Tim’s first impression of Jason had been exactly what he expected. The man who showed up at Titans tower a few years ago was angry, and he had become an outlet for Bruce’s neglect. Jason had quietly and awkwardly apologized, but that didn’t erase the memory for Tim. Even Jason had admitted he knew that. 

“Maybe you should mention it to him,” Tim said as he noticed a snowflake fall onto the windshield. “He won’t be on your ass as much.”

Just like the Devil’s name was spoken, Dick had appeared at the passenger side window. Opening the door, he leaned in to see if anything was amiss before snatching the biscuit off the dashboard. 

“Hey!”

“Move over,” He said, mouth full, and pushed Tim toward Jason. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jay said. “You’re driving. I want a nap.”

Dick groaned before switching places. Starting the engine, they pulled back out onto the highway. 

They hardly got a mile down the road before Dick mumbled under his breath, “The hell is playing?” And promptly changed the station to Christmas tunes again.

[officerwhitmore]

Standing near the front door, duffle clenched in one fist, Vincent studied Tony’s expression with wide, pleading eyes for an answer to his request only to find nothing. Nothing good, anyway. No confirmation that he’d help Vince cover his tracks, no indication that the request had offended him. Only subtle things, dangerous things, like sadness and softness and empathy. That was the confusing one — the empathy. Empathy for a man so broken he could barely function, so selfish he would willingly destroy his marriage for a fuck, so starved for affection/understanding(/love?) that he dissolved into tears at any display of tenderness.

But somehow, still, with the proverbial clock ticking, Vincent had to remind himself that only minutes ago, he’d found Tony’s thoughtfulness admirable even in spite of the time he took to think before he spoke. Now, far removed from the warmth of Tony’s body and the tender touch of his lips, it only made him feel impatient, his heart thudding and his mind burning with the knowledge that every moment spent in this apartment would make his fabricated alibi less believable. A not insignificant part of him felt the impulse to pressure Tony for an answer, but the softness in the man’s dark eyes made him incapable.

Not for the first time, Vincent was reminded of just how little he deserved him. By all means, Tony had every right to tell him to fuck himself and lose his number, especially given the painful ache from the interrupted blowjob—something the stiff outline in his slacks made clear. He’d invited him over for a hookup, and all Vince did was eat his food, melt down a few times, and get off twice before slobbering on his cock and leaving him blueballed with a shitty piece of origami and some dishes to clean. But somehow, somehow, Vincent was pathetic enough to cling on to any semblance of hope that he could make it out of this apartment with a believable excuse that would allow him to be alive to beg Tony for one more taste of… whatever the fuck this visit had become. Because really, if Vincent cut the bullshit and stopped denying the truth, this hadn’t been a hookup since the moment Tony watched him dance and took his hand and kissed him in a way that defied comparison. It was Tony, and Vincent knew down to the marrow of his bones that he’d never be kissed that way by anyone else.

He wanted to see this man again — even if he didn’t deserve it. So he asked, softly, gently, a hair’s breadth away from begging, “Tony… please.”

Tony didn’t say a word, but he did reach out a hand and slip something into his shirt pocket so swiftly that when Vince glanced down, he didn’t catch sight of it. It was only by scent alone that he deduced what it was. Spearmint gum. A sad smile curled up the corners of his lips as he took the gum out of his pocket and looked it over, spying an expiration date that was a year overdue, though that wasn’t the reason he’d have to decline it. It wasn’t a brand he chewed, and if Stella found it, it would just be one more thing he’d have to explain. It’d be an easy excuse — Angie gave it to him or something — but with all the lies he already had to balance, it was a burden he could do without. Most importantly, he had gum in his car and more than enough money in his wallet if he wanted to buy more of it. For Tony, this gum was probably a luxury even if it was half empty; even if it was expired. He almost wanted to make a joke about bad breath to stave off the flood of warmth that bled through his chest, but he didn't. Tony deserved better than deflections.

Vincent met his eyes instead, giving him a watery smile that he instantly knew was too fond, too sweet. “You’re so sweet, it’s almost sickening, you know that? I can’t take this, Tony,” he said, sounding like he was politely declining a brand-new car instead of a half-empty pack of expired gum. It didn’t matter, ultimately. As heartwarmed as Vincent was by the gesture, there was hardly any difference. Vincent tucked the pack of gum into the waistband of Tony’s slacks and lingered there for a moment, fingertips tucked beneath the dark fabric as he soaked up the warmth of Tony’s skin. Judging by the firm outline in the man’s slacks, the tip of Tony’s cock was less than an inch away from his fingertips, still hard and hot and neglected. It took everything in Vince not to slip his fingers in deeper and brush against it, just a touch, just a graze, and come away wet with precum if he was lucky. His tongue still tingled with the memory of his taste, warm and salty-sweet. He needed more of that before he died. He’d lick it off of his own fingers if he had to.

When Vincent looked up, Tony stepped in so close that he could smell the hint of sweat on his skin and the vague scent of his shampoo. The heat of Tony’s skin consumed Vince’s mind in one measure, and his fingertips slid further down without his permission, tightening around Tony’s waistband as the tip of his cock pressed hard against his knuckles. And there it was, that sticky-slickness, that liquid heat. When Tony reached down to take the duffle bag, Vince’s fingers fell open automatically, loose and pliant, and he wasn’t surprised in the least. When it all boiled down to it, he’d do anything Tony wanted when he was this warm, this close. Once again, his height seemed to swallow Vince whole, and in spite of the uniform he wore, Officer Whitmore was nowhere to be found. Right now, he was whatever Tony wanted him to be.

Tony nudged his collar to the side, and Vincent bared his neck and held his breath, listening to the man’s warm breaths as he eyed the mark he’d made when he backed him up against the wall and ravished him. Despite their closeness, despite Vince’s fingers clenching the waistband of his pants, when Tony places his other hand on Vince’s shoulder and leans in close, it all strikes Vincent as strange compared to the way they’d melted against each other earlier, sharing desperate, sloppy kisses and clutching at each other’s bodies like they’d die without the contact. Now? This was business, a favor — almost transactional, if not for the fact that Vince had nothing to give him in return. It was cold. Impersonal.

But the moment Tony’s lips met his neck, hot and wet and ticklish, Vincent pulled in a sharp gasp and closed his eyes, stiffening up like a frightened animal because all of the desire he’d lost when Stella called came flooding back into his body in an instant. Tony’s body was stiff, though, even as his teeth scraped and bit at Vincent’s skin, lips sucking, tongue soothing, teeth nipping again. Vincent did his best to appear unfazed, but nearly failed when the hand on his shoulder tightened into a squeeze and the fingers on his collar smoothed down to rest on his waist, leaving a burning path down every inch they’d touched. Vincent didn’t give in, didn’t moan or gasp or pull him in by the waistband. But he did shudder, a full-body tingle racing through his bones. When Tony lifted his head and took a small step backward, murmuring that the hickey ‘looked like it would work,’ Vincent’s hand slid out of his waistband and he gazed at him wordlessly, pupils wide with unspoken lust.

There was something heavy in Tony’s gaze when he met his eyes. Once again, Vincent was immediately reminded of how stupid and dangerous this had all been from the beginning, because his chest clenched tight and his stomach twisted with the fact that even with his wife in desperate need, he still wanted nothing more than to stay. And there was softness in Tony’s eyes, loneliness, regret, like he, too, knew that they’d fucked up irreparably. Vincent could read on the man’s face clear as day that he didn’t want Vincent to leave either. Back home, Stella might’ve needed him because she was grieving and terrified, but she wouldn’t have given him a second thought had the crash not happened, and she sure as shit hadn’t needed him for ages prior. But Tony? Tony wanted him. He wanted him in his apartment, wanted to hold him, wanted him to stay even if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. Just this once, for the first time in ages, here was a man who wanted Vincent just because. Someone who didn’t need him. Someone who simply enjoyed his company. (And/or his cock, apparently, which was less important but still nice to know.)

Vincent didn’t deserve Tony. In the end, all he’d done was come into his home to use him for sex, and now he was about to leave him even more lonely than he seemed to have been before all of this. It occurred to Vincent that he’d done all of this without once considering the possibility that someone other than himself would be left hurting in the end. Someone so beautiful; so sweet and so perfect. Jesus Christ, he felt fucking terrible, and there was no fucking way Tony couldn’t see it on his face. “God, you’re gonna make me cry again,” Vincent breathed with a little laugh. He averted his eyes to the ground because they were burning and probably beading with tears and his neck was on fire and god, this was all so fucked. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he softly shook his head, eyes closed, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Tony, I want you to know I—”

But then Tony kissed him. Hands clutching his shoulders, he kissed Vince like he was his; kissed him as if pretending he owned him would somehow make it true. Opening his mouth and kissing him deeper, it almost seemed as if Tony believed it; and, according to Vince’s throbbing cock, if Tony believed it, then clearly it must’ve been true. When Tony stumbled forward and Vincent’s back hit the wall — no hand to cushion his skull this time, just hard plaster and sweat-damp hair — Vince parted his legs and moaned into his mouth as his cock was pinned hard between his hip and Tony’s thigh. Vincent sighed hard through his nose, and it was as if all his bones went with it, his body melting until Tony’s solid chest was the only thing that kept him from falling to his hands and knees. Tony could take him that way if he wanted to. Right in that moment, sliding his hands up Tony’s naked back and digging blunt nails into his skin, Vincent thought that if this man picked him up and threw him on his mattress, he could have his way and Vince would never even remember he had a—

Family. Stella was inconsolable and June was clueless and… Vince couldn’t keep doing this. He had to get out of here. He had to go home.

“Tony,” Vincent breathed. The word was nearly incomprehensible between their mouths, so Vincent tilted his chin away and tried again. “Tony. Tony, Jesus, Tony, listen, I can’t…” Vincent moved his hands to clutch at Tony’s hips and pushed him away, gently enough to be tender, firmly enough to set a boundary even he didn’t want to make. Before he even opened his eyes, he knew what he saw on Tony’s face would be painful — disappointment, regret, hurt — so he spoke without thinking, anxious to soothe Tony’s hurt, and what came out of his mouth was, “I have to go home, baby.”

Vincent opened his eyes the moment he heard himself say it, and his entire diaphragm twisted, mouth going sour, face heating up in an instant. “I mean Tony, not — fuck, I’m sorry, my head’s all confused and everything’s—” Vincent shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, hands moving in frustrated gestures as if waving them in front of his face would wipe Tony’s memory. “Look. I gotta go.” Shaking his head hard this time, as if rebooting himself, he reached behind Tony and picked up his duffle by the strap, grunting uncomfortably as his hard-on was crushed a little with the movement. Narrowly avoiding elbowing Tony in the face, he swung the duffel over his shoulder and unlatched the chain lock on the door, pointedly ignoring the instant memory of how he’d teased him over it.

When he got the door open, the room immediately flooding with cool, fresh air, Vincent paused for a moment and looked back at him with one last glittering grin that felt like an utter lie. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to leave. But he had no choice. He’d done this to himself. “I’m sorry I’ve gotta run out like this. I’d stay if I could. I mean it,” he said, and his smile crumbled a little, his eyes turning as soft as his voice. He caught himself before he could make it all worse, and this time when he smiled, it felt a little more genuine. “Save me a root beer, okay?” It wasn’t really a question, but it sounded like one. And when he stepped through the door and into the breezeway, he couldn’t muster the fake positivity it would’ve taken him to wink.

He pulled the door shut and didn’t allow his grin to vanish until he heard Tony turn the lock.

Tony damn near saw stars in his eyes as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back, holding his breath for a moment. It took everything to keep himself from coming while in Vince’s mouth; he knew he could, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but damn it he wasn’t ready for this to end yet. And, judging by how utterly into it Vince was when he opened his eyes and looked down at him again, meeting his gaze, he didn’t think Vince was ready for it to end either. The longer this lasted, the more memories he had to hold on to - because there was no telling if he’d get a second chance at this.

Being called ’goofy’ could have been taken as an insult, especially in this situation, but Tony didn’t take it that way. He breathed out a laugh that was more of a heavy huff than anything else and gave Vince a grin. He was right, but hey, the lust-filled brain didn’t always work right.

”Didn’t want you suffocating.” Tony chuckled, leaning his head against the back of the couch and raking his fingers through Vince’s hair, grip loosening a little bit more before trailing his fingers down over Vince’s cheek. He heard that shake in Vince’s voice as he begged - it brought on so many questions that he couldn’t ask right now, but he knew for sure he couldn’t (and didn’t want to) say no to him. ”Good boy.” Tony repeated again, meeting Vince’s eyes and holding that stare as he said it.

God, he was so damned close, he swore if he exhaled at the wrong (right?) time he’d come hard, but it’d be too soon. He didn’t even know where Vince wanted him to finish. Tony opened his mouth to say something, then froze at the sound of something rattling against the countertop.

He couldn’t move, eyes locked on Vince as Vince’s eyes went wide. Something wild must have happened with his blood pressure because he swore for a moment his ears were full of cotton, his legs felt weak, and the room felt spinny. Only Vince’s string of desperate, terrified, breathless ’No’ over and over reminded him to inhale and brought him back to the present. The present where he was so blueballed it was damn near painful. Vince flew away from him towards the counter so fast it was a miracle he didn’t just slam through the cabinets and wall too.

Not trusting himself to remain completely silent, Tony slapped a hand over his own mouth and leaned back, taking a few steadying breaths through his nose. His best guess was that this was going to be a ’when are you coming home from work?’ call that, worst case scenario, would dampen the mood and things wouldn’t be so damn heavy and hot when they got off, then Vince would slink back to his life and they’d never speak of it again. The fear of that impending loss tightened in Tony’s chest.

But as he listened to Vince’s end of the conversation in silence, he realized that his original worst case scenario was actually a best case scenario. This? This was the worst case scenario. It didn’t take a cop or detective to figure out someone had been hurt, listening to just this side of the conversation. The relief was that it wasn’t his daughter, and wasn’t his wife - those two things would devastate a man. But there were plenty of other losses that could do significant damage, too.

Tony knew this was over when Vince ended the call and simply stood there for a moment, trying to breathe. That was no ’I’m buried in paperwork, it’ll be awhile yet’ conversation and they both knew it. Whatever frustrated anger he felt at having his night cut short was kept in check by immediately feeling empathy for Vince. He knew right then he had zero room to complain whatsoever and was going to keep his fool mouth shut about this.

”Yeah, I understand. Okay.” Tony responded dumbly, not even sure what else to say as he stood from the couch, sliding his pants and boxers back up and on. He turned away from Vince once they were up, managing to tuck himself back into his pants and zip up. This was utterly uncomfortable and he’d have to do something about it after Vince left, but he was not about to sit here, dick out, watching Vince leave in a panic.

There wasn’t anything he could do to help, either. He caught himself watching Vince strip out of his clothes and back into his uniform, but that oddly felt invasive. He stopped himself from looking by heading for the kitchen. In lieu of knowing what else to do, he washed his hands, trying to focus on the soap bubbles instead of the feeling in his stomach. This wasn’t the version of Vince that he’d brought here tonight and offered to him. This wasn’t the joking, sexy man that got on his knees and begged to be called a good boy. This was a small town cop rushing home to his family to comfort them after something very bad had happened, complete with bringing home dinner. Not his nachos either, some fast-food picked up from somewhere no doubt. Burgers and fries or Chinese takeout or pizza or something. Something that matched the white picket fence he no doubt lived behind better than his cooking ever would.

There was probably one thing he could do to help. It was such a minor, small thing that he felt rather incompetent even making the offering, but… it was the best he could do. Tony reached down and pulled open a drawer and rummaged through it while Vince got his shoes on. It didn’t take him long to find it - half a pack of generic minty gum. It would be something to cover the taste in Vince’s mouth on the drive home. There were three sticks left, and that felt pretty par for the course of what Tony had to offer in this life now.

Tony turned and closed the distance, watching Vince carefully as he held the door frame, knuckles white around the duffle bag’s strap. It was awful to see him this hurt now, and it made his small offering seem insurmountably more pathetic now. ’Sorry for ruining your marriage and life, have some gum.’ He was so frozen by his own inability to be useful here that he was caught off-guard when Vince turned around and met his eyes.

It was a utilitarian suggestion, and a smart one. Somewhere in the back of his head, a small voice reminded him that of course a cop would be able to think quickly about how to hide or mask evidence of wrongdoing. He shouldn’t be surprised. He knew he’d caused this issue, he was the problem, so it shouldn’t be a shock that he be asked to fix it. But he was surprised anyway… because another hickey meant another kiss.

Would his wife believe it? Maybe she would, while clouded by her emotions right now. Would either of them enjoy it? No, probably not. The mood had been ruined, Vince looked on the edge of tears, and he himself felt infinitesimally small and inept. He looked Vince over, a few breaths of silence for the man to come to his senses, take back the request, and run out. When Vince didn’t, Tony reached forward and slid the half-pack of gum into Vince’s shirt pocket, and stepped closer. Reaching down, Tony gently peeled Vince’s fingers off the strap of the duffle bag until he could hold it instead, and sat it down next to them.

A mental image of one of the last smutty vampire books he read barged itself into his brain as he nudged Vince’s collar out of the way and eyed his neck where he’d gestured, nodding his approval. He wasn’t eyeing for blood, though, but bruises, and looking to add to the mark. Not knowing where else to put his other hand, he rested it atop Vince’s shoulder and leaned in, putting his lips to Vince’s neck.

He’d never really thought about it before, but giving someone a hickey on purpose is a lot different than doing it accidentally. He almost felt stupid, standing here stiffly trying and hoping this would work. Maybe it would be easier to just punch the guy - not that he wanted to risk it. Punching an actual police officer would get the FBI on his ass so fast he might still be blueballed by the time the cell door slammed shut behind him.

After what seemed like an appropriate amount of time, Tony paused and leaned away, looking at his work. He hadn’t realized it, but at some point he’d let go of Vince’s collar and slid that hand down to his waist, other hand still on Vince’s shoulder but squeezing him now. The new hickey was almost as bright and obvious as the existing one. Just eyeballing it, it did look approximately the width of a seat belt strap, give or take.

”Okay. That looks like it’ll work.” Tony offered quietly, as if they were discussing tightening pipes or installing a new ceiling fan and not covering up an extramarital affair. Tony licked his lips, taking a small step backwards.

That small space between them felt too expansive. It was one step, but it felt like he stepped backwards and fell off a cliff that neither could ever climb. The gulf of circumstances between them was nothing but dark choppy waters full of sharks and storms. It made Tony’s heart hurt in a way he wanted to ignore. This was supposed to be a hookup, nothing more. A hookup between two people who had specific needs not being met elsewhere and they were just two adults scratching an itch. Nothing complicated. But he was a Goddamn idiot and his heart and mind were conspiring to make this complicated and fuck both those pieces of himself for ever doing this to him.

He knew then that if he let go of Vince, it was done for good, and part of him just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t handle the thought of Vince walking out that door and never seeing him again.

Tony had almost let go completely when he grabbed Vince by the shoulders and pulled him back in for a kiss. It was a bit rough and possessive, and he wound up taking one stumbling step forward that pressed Vince against the wall next to the door.

He just needed one more. A parting gift to think of. It didn’t matter if Vince's lips tasted like his cock yet, if they both smelled like sweat and lust. He just needed one more kiss and a reason to not let go quite yet so he could put off hating himself for just a little while longer.

[bruceawaynefrfr]

yall some dick riders fr, these men dont know you and wont fuck you stop bouncing on the dick with a boot in your mouth and recognize how fucking stupid they are right now

[girlivealwaysbean]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

[eggmeralda]

do you ever feel casually suicidal? like you're not depressed or anything you're doing fine but also it feels like a convenient option

[bueris]

okay maybe I should seriously reconsider my path in life and sell my soul to marketing or journalism instead

[lorephobic]

idk how to even like. put this pain into words and i would normally vent about this shit on twitter, but the person its about follows me on there so like. anybody have skills for coping with the crushing realization that the person u love most in this world and have built ur life around sees ur current situation together as a temporary hurdle that's preventing them from their truest and happiest self which. is separate from u entirely? anyone know how to deal with this?

[launh]

Oh my god I don't have good and fancy words for it but I'm so tired of the fucking polarisation spiral. The whole 'those people and these people and their stupid barbaric selfish people and our good intelligent kind people'. The fucking separation of it all - "I won't do politics unless that guy stops being a politician, I don't want to play until the playing field is fair, I don't want to vote until those people stop voting". Oh my god!! Who do you think has the power to make the playing field fair!!! That's you baby!!! Are you really truly any better than 'those people' who stereotype and judge others? Of course you can disagree with someone, of course you can dislike a politician and their views and of course you can dislike it when someone agrees with those views. And of course you can dislike spending time with a group of people because of their views! But dismissing an entire group of people as barbaric and stupid and not worth your time and even subhuman (?!) because of their views? Be serious. How will that ever fucking help. Do you think separating the good people from the bad people has ever resulted in anything good at all ever? You know what helps? Talking to each other. Finding common ground. Good, you both like baking. Good, you both live on the same street. Good, you both like the name Ruth. Or fucking whatever. And then go from there. Try to maybe listen and understand each other for once. I'm not talking about forgiving people who plan on taking away your human rights or who would rather see you dead. Obviously. I'm not saying you should find the nearest 'bad person' and befriend them. Obviously. But take a good look at yourself pleasseeeeee. What do you mean 'bad person'? If you believe hatred is taught, have you ever caught yourself believing in the innate evil of a trump supporter, have you ever considered them beyond saving? If you believe empathy is human, have you ever checked if your thoughts still mean the same, does "i hate men" still carry the same value, do you still look at men the same way you did before you started saying that? Do you catch yourself stripping away hobbies and feelings and meaningful relationships from 'those' people, do you consider yourself above them? Do you praise and celebrate when people change for the better or do you hold on to what they used to do and put all your focus on what they still need to learn? A homophobe might meet a gay man and consider him one of the good ones, and that's a good start. That's not the end but it's a good fucking start. If your politics are in-group/out-group politics you are not helping and you do not have the interest of your fellow people at heart. If your beliefs have pushed you to the point you hate a certain group so much you think it's better if they're dead? I'm asking you to think about that a little, okay? Maybe go outside. Talk to people. Jesus christ.

[humanityinahandbag]

I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.

My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.

But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.

But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.

My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.

But she did something else instead.

To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.

These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.

And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.

She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.

Except that wasn't the case.

Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;

"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."

When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.

What I'm saying is this.

It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.

But that's only true if you let it be true.

There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.

And fighting is going to look different every time.

Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.

Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.

And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.

Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.

Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.

And enjoy the little victories.

(Even the petty ones)

[screampied]

ʚ BUBBLE, POP, ELECTRIC ?! ɞ

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. it’s your birthday and your sugar daddy takes you on a spree to the mall. perhaps buying a new set of panties with his initials engraved on it to tease him wasn’t the brightest idea. get in loser, you’re going shopping.

wc. 5.5k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), unprotected, semi-public risky themes, dry humping, implied multiple rounds, lots of praise, squırting, fıngering, dumbification, ōral (f! receiving), dirty talk, brēeding, petnames.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

“a- anything?”

“anything, darlin,” satoru hums with a teasing smile, burying both hands into his pockets. your face lit up as he happily slides his black card into your palm. it had a glinting shine to it, your eyes gape at the sixteen digit code plastered on the front with his full name in bold, ‘satoru gojo.’ the both of you stood near the center of a busy, packed mall. it was an ordinary hot friday, and since it was also your birthday, he decided why not let you pick your special gift. the older man leans down, planting a kiss against your forehead. “go crazy, yeah? ‘s your day, gorgeous. the pricier, the better. buy something that’ll be easy ‘ta tear off. oh, i mean uh— buy something pretty, heh.”

you felt a wave of heat burn over you. you could never, never get enough his praises. satoru’s eyes remain on you as you clutch on one of the many purses he bought you. “toru, you don’t have to.”

“shh, you’re my baby,” he reassures you, pulling you close. you lean into his embrace, feeling the palm of his hand caress circles against your back. he feels the thin straps of your top glue against your skin. his cologne, it was forevermore intoxicating. in a husky low tone, satoru whispers. “i wanna spoil you extra hard today,” and you gasp, feeling him nuzzle into your neck. “what do ya say, sweets? i heard victoria’s secret has a few new deals goin’ on right now, heh.”

you spent the next good hour shopping, going to any store that just so happened to pique your fancy. you told gojo that you’d save victoria’s secret for last, and he nodded.

of course, he tagged along with you. like the gentleman he was, he carried your weighty bags for you like they were nothing.

“gonna run me for my money, huh sweets?” he snickers, an arm slinging around your shoulder as you stood beside him on the escalator. as it slowly took you both upstairs—you let off a tiny exhale. you were preparing to go toward the second floor of the mall.

with a coy smile, you brush a thumb against the edges of your skirt. “o- oh, sorry ‘toru,” and you knew he was teasing, he’d buy you the world if he could. he was stood so close next to you that you could almost always get a good whiff of his loud scent. “didn’t mean to get so much stuff.”

“sweetheart, i’m joking you know that,” he hums, stepping back to let you get off the moving escalator first. it was so packed, dozens of people walking around each part of the centre. it was full of chatter and laughter. a whirring breeze sets against your skin as he steps beside you, leaning down to plant a kiss near your forehead. “tired out yet? or do ya have more pretty stuff ‘ta buy?”

speaking of pretty, satoru gojo was the prettiest.

he stood out in the mall—he was an elite businessman but people were smart enough to not disturb him while he’s spending time with you.

so classy, he was always wearing the finest richest suits, preferably black or white ones. long, stretched out slacks to show off his legs and his hair. gojo’s hair was always neatly done, as he aged he usually settled with a parted style, a visible undercut to run his fingers through to pass time.

thin white bangs would run down his eyes a few times—occluding his vision. gojo would often find himself digging his hands into his pockets as he happily watches you drain his wallet.

“we can go get some lingerie now,” you murmur out, hearing some random pop song blare through the mall’s speakers.

“we? aw, am i gettin’ dolled up too?”

he peers at you as your expression twists to abashed embarrassment. gojo chuckles, a soft thumb brushing against your cheek lovingly. “you’re so cute, i’m teasing. let’s go then, lead the way princess.”

you ended up getting at least three new sets, including the brand new panties gojo’s been rambling to you about nonstop.

he told you how he’s recently got a partnership with the store.

a million dollar partnership at that — his new ‘satoru gojo’ limited edition panties were finally launched, and at first the idea of his name on underwear made him grouse. thanks to gojo’s hefty contribution to the company, they’ve gained a lot of new customers over the past summer. but, the moment you pick them out with a cute curious smile, he only cared about how you’d like them. so far, he’s heard from the reviews of buyers that it was quite soft, cottony and synthetic.

waterproof also, and gojo being gojo brought that specific fact up to you about a dozen times.

“can i open my eyes now, darlin'?” a low, husky yet playful voice calls out. gojo sat manspread in the dressing room, awaiting for you to show the final results of the product. “mhh, ‘s kinda dangerous to jus’ let my imagination roam, you know.”

“hold on, satoru.” you roll your eyes, slipping on the panties. they were really pretty, they fit perfectly and had tiny blue bows on the side.

you spun around near the nearby mirror, taking in your figure. it had a thong yet bikini type shape to them. stretchy and all, not to mention it was very comfortable—not too tight whatsoever. right on the back, you spot the infamous letters that were sewn in bedazzled rhinestones, front ‘n center.

‘ satoru gojo, ’

you felt a brew of heat tickle its way down your thighs before you strut toward the white haired man. even sitting down, he’s so attractive. long legs stretch themselves out as he’s laid back against the concrete wall. he’s surrounded by colorful bent hangers, the dressing room was spacey enough. as he sat on the bench, he taps his foot. “baby, i can feel you lookin’ at me. are ya done?”

“yeah,” you utter, slowly removing his hands away from his eyes. “you can look now.”

it takes him a moment to register the sight — you stand still, feeling his cerulean blue eyes awe at your beauty.

oh, your curves, his blown irises linger everywhere so intently that it makes you feel small in the best way. your heart’s thumps accelerate as he’s got a growing smug smile curling against his pink lips.

“oh my,” he purrs out, a hand cupping under his chin. his expensive g-shock shimmers against the luminescent ceiling light as also he gently pulls his bottom lip down. his stare makes you nervous and you don’t even know why. “spin around for me.”

you do, twirling your body slowly and his eyes get a front view of your ass. you still wore your blouse, feeling his gaze burn into your rear.

“goddamn,” and you let off a soft breath, feeling his hands gingerly creep up against your thighs. “you look gorgeous in anything,” he whispers, inching his lips toward your backside. gojo then drags his twitching, crooked lips toward the left cheek of your ass. it smooches against the lace fabric, a thumb stroking the letters of his own name. “i’ll buy this entire brand just to see you walk around ‘n these for me, sweetheart.”

“satoru don’t do that,” you protest, gasping once he parts your legs open a bit. with you, his touch was always gentle. he couldn’t ever keep his hands off of you though. his strokes continue to roam, and that’s when he playfully bites your ass cheek. “h- hey!”

“sorry, baby,” he chuckles, giving it a soft teasing smack. gojo hears you whine out in need before he turns you back around. “mhh, don’t give me that pout. come give ‘toru some sugar instead.”

your heart always flutters whenever he says that, those sweet words never fail to strike right into your heart. churning the pit insides of your stomach that’s already packed with butterflies swarming everywhere.

as you slowly make your way toward him, tantalizingly, he cocks his head to the right.

“don’t be shy, i won’t bite today,” he flashes you a soft toothy grin, patting his lap for you to take your favorite seat. wasting no time, you sit on his lap, your bare skin brushing up against his loose fitted slacks. “good girl,” and his hands meet your waist. zeroing his eyes down your sweet physique, he strokes your bottom lip. “closer.”

the moment you finally close the distance, your lips press against his. a cheeky smile curls against his mouth — a groan shortly following out of his throat, betraying his playful demeanor. you moan, finding it impossible to not move a bit against him. as you gradually grind against his lap, delving your tongue between his, he lets off a sharp breath. “mhm,” pretty snowy lashes of his shut tight, fluttering as he’s poking a single thumb against your hip. gojo tastes sweet, sweeter than he’s ever been. peppermint lives on his tongue, running against your tastebuds and with utmost grace, you relish in it. the flavor, its additive and his touch wasn’t helping. a raspy groan slithers into your mouth once your grinding speeds up, the bottom part of your panties grazes against his secret growing boner and he huffs.

“f- fuck, baby,” he snarls, breaking away from the kiss to look down. there, he spots it. he was indeed hard, he’s been hard this entire time you’ve been splurging hefty amounts on his black card. the moment you gave him a little show of the sediment panties, that was the final straw. “you’re such a tease, y’know,” and you gasp once he slides a lengthy finger toward the cottony fabric. “ooh, is someone already a mess? lemme see ya.”

and as you’re just barely hovering over his lap, legs sprawled apart for him, he swipes the fat print of his thumb inside. “s- satoruuu.” you hiss out, the last syllable of his name elongated and cutely dramatic. a bit loud, you had to remind yourself the two of you were in a store. indeed, you were soaked already. part of you thinks it was because of his showering praises.

every time he calls you a ‘good girl’ or his ‘pretty girl’ you felt the stickiness between your thighs dampen. it was just embarrassing.

“can’t believe you’ve been hidin’ this mess this entire time,” the white haired man almost pouts, a tone of playfulness humming underneath his tone. two of his fingers poke their way between the middle part of your panties, prodding against your soppy pussy. “oh, look at that. so fuckin’ nasty,” and cunning blue eyes flicker straight at you, making you gulp in ignominy. “sweetheart, you do know i gotta pay for this. did ya forget?”

“o- oh.” and reality hits you again. he was right, you were soaking panties that weren’t even bought yet.

you could feel yourself dripping, a little damp spot forming its way against the woolen linen.

“yeah, oh,” he mocks your cute surprised word, easing a single thumb past your slit. it’s swollen, he feels the eager twitch of it and your legs rock back in lewd rapture. “awh, how cute. you want my thumb, princess?”

“y- yes,” you whine, tossing your arms over his broad shoulders. the man eyes you with a haughty expression, continuing to flick the edge of his thumb in and out of your puffed clit. the panties were still on and you clenched your jaw before letting off a needy sigh. “take them off, ‘toru. please.”

he gives you a long stare before humming. “nah,” and a pout twines against your glossed lips. with his right hand, it grips your ass, his thumb resuming to fondle your skin before it tenderly starts to go in. “silly girl. panties are for wearing,” he teases, and your lips part themselves open once he successfully eases his way inside. you’re already so sloppy, spiraling all underneath his fingers. a white brow of gojo’s crimps into an intrigued furrow before he buries his nose into your neck. “ah, ah. don’t hold back those moans, let me hear that pretty voice.”

“but- we’re in public.”

“i won’t be crazy this time, i promise sweets, heh.”

total lie,

he says he won’t be crazy yet here you were bent over, face shoved into the wall, legs all parted. you moan, feeling his tongue dip straight into your cunt, slurping a loooong suck of your honeyed sweet. your thighs weakly tremble a bit at the teasing sensation of his stubble gracefully bristling against your skin. your cheek presses up on the glass of the other mirror that sits up against the wall. “f- fuuuuck.” you whimper out, toes curling up in utter ecstasy. his tongue, it was always so messy. messy and long, you whimper out once he dives straight in.

dipping in and out, no manners whatsoever. he’s nose deep, lolling it out all the way until he’s shamelessly drooling down your drizzling folds.

even still,

your panties were still on the entire time — they were lazily pulled to the side. with his eyes closed, he’s letting his tongue wander everywhere. you whine, digging the edges of your teeth into your bawled up fist. “arch more baby,” he whispers, hot breath ghosting right against your cunt. the store was blasting obnoxiously loud music, you hoped no one would walk in, hoped no one would see. the door was closed but still. once he watches your back obediently raise up at his command, he hums, nibbling right against your cunt. “atta girl, gimme that arch, uh huh.”

gojo groans, eating you out from behind, using a single hand to make your legs spread just a bit further. the continuous squeaks that pours out your lips makes him ten times harder than he already was. “ngh, t- toru,” you start to huff, feeling a crushing pull yank its way at your lungs. your breathing only started to get more crazed. as he’s spelling out the ten different letters of his name. you whine out a sobbing mewl, feeling the way his tongue curls once he flicks a sweet ‘s’ in your pussy. the swirl — your back only arches more, the skin of your cheek practically glued against the mirror. “ohmygodd.”

“y’r so fuckin’ hot,” he purrs out, and you’re so busy focused on his tongue that you didn’t even realize he had two fingers shoved inside you already. they’re so long, they reach into the very caves of your walls, specific spots that you didn’t even know could be located. with a swift motion, his fingertips curl around your cunt, feeling the gripping squeeze. “mhm, that’s it. bare around ‘em just like that,” and he’s making out with your cunt, giving it multiple french kisses. your legs were so close to giving up, you could feel that same annoying smile rub against your pussy. as your lip shivers, you start to breath heavier.

puffing and huffing . . heaving as you let off the same pathetic whimpers for more, more of his sloppy tongue.

he slurps everywhere, making sure to not miss a single spot. gojo sucks against your clitoral hood, knowing just how sensitive that spot made you. as you’re coating not only his fingers but his chin at the same time with your sheeny juices, you couldn’t help but swallow your pity. “i- i’m gonna cum,” you moan, a hand of yours reaching behind to grab onto his head. it lands near the top, gripping onto his strands and shoving him further into your pussy. “satoru, agh,” and you had to cup a hand over your mouth, growing paranoid once your heard a few people right outside your stall.

shit, shit, shit,

all you heard from gojo was that same raspy chuckle as he pumps in his two fingers inside your pussy with the most presumptuous grin on his face. as he’s bent on his knees, his chin was soaked with your slick.

every few seconds, he pries himself off to breathe and clean the lower part of his chiseled face with his tongue. “c’mon, baby. wait a little f’r me,” and his tepid breath repeatedly fans against your fevered skin. the pleasure — the pulsation, you were found with your legs spread and jaw dropped. so close, you could merely taste a salty tang that’s forming on your sugared tastebuds.

satoru gojo was a eater, and he could eat you all day if he really really wanted. your pout from his words makes him laugh. he spots your dumb expressions through the mirror propped up directly in front of you before he starts to spit on your cunt. “ugh, look at her. always so shiny ‘n slick,” and with bright eyes, he stares at the way his saliva trickles down your puckering hole. “ooh,” gojo breaks his mouth away again, lustrous cobwebs of spit dripping down his lips. frantically, you were shaking once he suddenly stopped. as his two fingers still plugged inside of your pussy, he gives the outer part of your entrance teasing pecks. “such a wet girl. listen to her with me, sweetheart.”

“s— fuckk, ‘toru,” you babble out, a sharp swat of his free palm hitting against your ass. suddenly, the cramped up dressing room felt hot. blazing, and yet, your thighs were even hotter. with your lips betraying themselves, curling into a circular shape in pleasure, you barely could make yourself stand still. “pleaseplease.”

“no, baby,” he gifts your cunt it’s final kiss, one of his hands running down your thighs. you had glossy slick racing down and he takes the opportunity to lap it right up with his tongue. “only sound i wanna hear is this pretty pussy talkin’ back to me. let’s hear what she’s got ‘ta say.”

the sounds of your own cunt was so lewd. it’s crying squelching rings and reverberates off the walls.

abruptly, you grow quiet and he hums, slowly dragging out his two long fingers before you gush out straight away.

your eyes were as wide as saucers, electric shocking currents travel through every part of your body as you come undone on his tongue. as you whine into your palm, your eyebrows come together into a furrow.

“mph,” you whimper, feeling your thighs shake. it’s so much that within seconds, you feel yourself spraying against his tongue until you couldn’t anymore. it felt like your life flashed before your eyes. the tenderness of it all was almost too much to bare. as you’re still violently shaking on his pink twitching muscle, gojo spreads your ass apart, growing drunk at your taste before he chuckles against your clit - teeth nibbling against your sensitive, puffed folds.

“my baby’s velocity just gets better ‘n better,” he snickers, giving your right ass cheek a frisky kiss.

as he stands up again, he faces you — watching as your eyes were all droopy ‘n hooded.

“c’mere,” and you felt your cunt throb as you fall into his touch, pressing your lips right back against him. right away, your tongue gets met with the taste of yourself on him. you tasted sweet, he’s always described you as sweet anyway. gojo groans, lifting up your thigh before making you lie back. “good girl. ‘s just you ‘n me. let me spoil you today, princess.”

glancing down, you spot his slacks that were just barely hanging on. they were half on, dark blue boxers clinging onto his perfectly sculptured waistline. you spot a bit of a peeking white happy trail that’s curly — sticking against his skin.

“s- satoru,” you pant, pawing your hands at his already open fly. he ogles at you, popping the two wet fingers that were stuffed into your cunt literally just a few seconds ago right into his mouth. you watch, growing more aroused as he sucks on his digits right in front of you.

“satoru what, baby?” he leans down, springing out his cock. it was quick, he fishes through his boxers before whipping it out, wrapping a single bare hand around his fat length. giving it a few pumps, a thumb of his swipes against his pulsing vein and he groans. with a snarl, he bites into your neck. “you don’t wanna wait ‘till we get home, huh?”

“no,” you whimper, and he lets you take control a bit.

with shaky hands, you make him sit flat against his back, a cute shove goes against his chest and he huffs. “want you, ‘toru,” and he smiles at how out of breath you were, still trying to overcome your more recent, nirvana filled high. as you get on his lap, straddling him, you lean right up to the older man’s face. “please.”

he returns your lust-filled gaze, a hand of his creeping toward the curvature of your ass. “such a sweet girl. with manners like that, i could never say no,” he coos to you, helping you align your entrance against his reddened tip. with your panties still on, string passively pulled toward the crevices of your thighs, you whine. “there’s that sweet ‘lil moan,” he brings you closer toward his neck. the veins that ran down his cock pulse even quicker. “mhm, c’mon sweets,” he playfully pulls your hands away from your face. “i wanna see those eyes roll back. don’t be shy, ride me girl.”

and as he’s careful to sink you down on his cock, your legs wrap around his slim waist like a vice.

a hand of yours tugs onto his tie, giving it a little forceful pull. gojo’s hair was all ruffled — white strands everywhere, you had him a mess and right where you wanted.

whenever you straddled him like this, you always took his breath away and that hungry gaze you always give him, fuck you were dangerous.

intaking a sharp, deep breath, he’s halfway in now. gojo’s so thick and bulky that it feels like he’s fully in.

balls fucking deep,

a whimper pulls out of your vocal cords as his tip kisses your sweet swollen insides. his own eyelashes were half-lidded and he’s panting right with you, frigid cold band of his watch rubbing off against your skin. the saturated squelches of your pussy were so loud, he holds onto your hips before a pussy drink grin tugs against both corners of his lips. “attaaaa girl. move those hips, ride me good, birthday girl.”

the friction was so delicious, so appetizing..

you were barely moving but you felt like you were gonna screw up and cream all down his shaft. with your face still burying itself into the crook of his neck, your hips finally start to adapt to some sort of steady rhythm. gojo huskily grunts, feeling the welcoming grip your cunt gifts him every time he goes inside. the elastic stretch always makes him short circuit. as his blushing tip thrashes its way inside, your hips roll and it’s only then that you start to sloppily lurch against his lap.

“t- toruuu,” you sob out in a sweet broken syllable, your own words sticking against your tongue. strong, built arms hold you upright as you’re making steady haste. the music of the store seems to get louder and you don’t even care if you get caught anymore.

with the way his cockhead’s smooching up against your sweet spot, you’re already dumb, stupid ‘n hungry for more of your beloved sugar daddy. your whines always ghost right up against his earlobe, falling on deaf ears every time. your sweet, carnal sounds makes his dick twitch. the electric pulse surges through your cunt and you feel it — shivering, glancing at him and he shoots you a flashy, sheepish grin. “yeah, ‘s okay baby. doin’ so good for me.”

even still, you’re adjusting to his size. the big stretch has your lips parted and circular, moans spilling out of your lips again and again until you were a broken record.

every single time, gojo’s cock extends inside of you through and through. it’s like it comes natural to him. no matter how many times he’d please you, you’d always end up getting a bit more stretched out than the last time.

a constant lewd loop,

“s— satoru,” you start to whine again, swiveling your hips against him. he’s seated down on the bench, taking in your body and the way your breasts bounce. he can’t help but snatch a feel, bringing a hand toward your left mound, squeezing two fingers against your nipples. with your frilly blouse still on, he’s just tugging against fabric but you start feel the familiar incoming shockwaves of pleasure. you let off a tiny squeal, head tossing back and your teeth digging into your bottom lip. “ngh, ‘toru. ‘m sensitive.”

“baby you’re always sensitive,” he teases.

lowering his head down between your neglected tits, gojo pulls up your blouse and leisurely slides his tongue down the sheeny crack of your chest. you’ve got a bit of a glow, probably from your recent teeth shattering orgasm. “mhm, look at my girls. they get prettier every time i see ‘em,” and as you’re still swaying your hips against him, he pops out one of your tits from your bra, sucking against the tender skin. you whimper over and over, he can barely get a good solid suck from the constant movement of your hips. you’re jittery, repeatedly moving back and forth against him, about to erupt as if your cunt was a volcano. “thaaat’s my girl, always taste so sweet.”

you ruffle his hair a bit as he’s latching his mouth against one of your sore nipples. the mobility of your hips so sloppy and unstable. he tends to each nipple, latching his wet lips against the sore mounds before slobbering all over it. as you’re grinding against him in an alluring manner, your eyes start to roll back. “toru, ngh. ‘s fuckin’ big,” you squeak out in a tiny mewl, your voice entirely small.

you’re moving so much that he could barely keep up, burying his face into your chest. his hot breath tickles against your skin — it’s feverish, sending a multitude of shivers to race down your spine.

he grunts in annoyance at your bra in the way, snatching it down to properly attach his plump lips against your neglected nipples. gojo sucked until they were all sore ‘n swollen, madly pulsating from the salacious stimulation. he eyes you with a teasing simper, a crinkle informing underneath his eye as he licks up his saliva dripping down the bare valley of your chest.

“y’r always a perfect fit though,” he whispers, another groan leaving out of his throat. as he’s leaning back again, allowing you to continue riding him, you’re just completely dumbfounded.

irises were dilated, lungs were full, toes curled.

you moan once he spanks your ass at the feeling of your hips slowing down, his way of encouraging you to keep at it. with your frilly blouse pulled up, he gawks at your body and admires how you match his crazed tempo, rolling and mirroring the same amounts of rickety.

“my fuckin’ girl,” he grunts, a hand sliding down your ass again, spanking it again. “uh huuuh,” his tongue slides against his lips, averting his gaze at your seductive looking hips. “just like that, sweetheart. niiiice ‘n slow, ‘toru’s not going anywhere.”

as you’re jerking forward against him, constantly bouncing against his thickset, bulky base — your jaw hangs wide open. he’s reached your sweet spot, it’s out of nowhere and you feel a bundle of nerves scream all through out you. your limbs were getting weary, and as your arms wrap around his shoulders, you nibble on his chin. “satoru, satoru, f— fuuuuck.”

he chuckles, watching as both of your eyes close tight, feeling one of your hands slither its way inside of his dress shirt. “hm,” he looks down, and your fingertips feel against his chiseled washboard abs. your pace was relentless, and with the feeling of just how ripped he was, you felt that same twitch arise in your cunt again. “fuck yeah, baby. touch me anywhere you like. this body ‘s all yours,” and you moan from his provocative words, still moving back and forth. gojo’s scent made itself well known throughout the entire dressing room. his abs instinctively clench from your gentle yet tender touch. “make me feel so good.”

“i- i do?” you moan, his words alone sending you a plethora of spine-chilling chills everywhere. they linger for a long time before you feel yourself starting to tighten. you were hungry for his approval, his praise — anything.

“yes, sweetheart,” he grunts, cupping your face as your hips continue to rock against him. he was reaching his inevitable limit and so were you, gojo’s face turns flustered and his pretty blue eyes flicker backward for a moment. that action alone was sexy, only you made him like this. “you like hearin’ what you do to me, huh?”

his voice was always so low — deep ‘n pitchy, it had the right amount of rasp hiding underneath it.

the timbre, it was a huskiness that always got you soaked. gojo moved his hands back down toward your waist, helping you keep up your frantic rhythm. every few seconds, you felt his throbbing dick plunge in and out of your drooling cunt. it’s so thorough, and every once and a while, it slips out. “fuuuck,” he groans, lifting you up before aligning himself back in. “got me workin’ over time, baby. stay still, yeah.”

your sweet nub was constantly being kissed up against, and you’re already so so stupid.

metaphoric heart eyes form through your pupils as you twitched ‘n fluttered on his cock. the moment you came again, and again, and again, there was barely a thought in your mind. you were always left being a puddled mess, swollen walls perfectly ravaged and stretched out.

it’s probably been about a good hour or two.

the dressing room had a sweet smell of tangy sweat and cologne—you whimper, babbling repeatedly as you’re now bent back over again.

but this time, gojo’s fucking you from behind.

he’s probably had you do various positions, and he was just about to finish again, anticipating to see another load pour right into your puffy pussy.

“s- shit,” he swallows a lump residing in his throat, catching your secretive hand trying to reach down and touch yourself. “princess..”

you pause, your hand staying still and he chuckles — pressing right up against your ass. he’s still pumping you full mid-thrust, a free hand wrapping its way around the back of your throat. his tone sounded like you’d just been caught redhanded. “aw, someone’s eager. but you always ask before touchin’ this sloppy pussy, right?”

with your breath hitching, he’s continuing to reel you back into his sharp hips within each piston of a thrust. with your mouth opened wide, you moan. “y- yes,” and as he’s jutting his cock into your gripping walls, you whimper out a sweet question of want. “can i touch myself, ‘toru?”

“let me think, baby.”

and you whine, a pouty expression marinating against your features as he’s got you pressed up against the mirror once more. gojo chuckles, clammy hands squeezing against your ass. “oh, you big baby. ‘m joking, go ‘head princess.”

as your fingers skid down your sopping pussy, it’s immediately coated with your slick. you whine, feeling his pace go faster before he groans. after a while, he’s just about there. gojo’s eyes remain fixated on your pretty rear — skin against skin clashing onto each other in such sync ‘n harmony.

his orgasm hits him like a truck. as a pretty translucent ring forms around his heavy cock, lust foils at his brain. “hah, fuck, pretty. such a mess, arch more for me, good girl. good fuckin’ girl.”

with the way he’s praising you continuously, you felt the constant twitches of your pussy cling onto his length. as your limbs were shaky ‘n on their final concluding hinges, you grow quiet at the feeling of him dumping in yet another sweet sticky load of cum. in the process — he coats the fabric of your panties with his mess, luxuriating in how sloppy you looked.

everything feels so slow - it’s probably been hours.

the current song that’s playing on the speakers, you’ve heard that same chorus for at least three times now.

it’s so warm inside, the flushed left temple of your cheek sticks against the mirror as you’re pressed right up against it. “f- fuck.” you wheeze out, allowing him to pump you full of creamy, velvety loads. he groans, throwing his head back and letting off a deep exhale. pretty lashes of his flutter shut as he’s staring openly at the way your cunt swallows its favorite bittersweet meal. with his mushroom tip still thrashing against the bulb of your sensitive clit, he gradually pulls out.

gojo’s eyes remain at your backside — gazing at the way he’s overflowed you with ropes ‘n ropes of hot wads of cum.

he licks his lips, staring in awe at how it dribbles down your thighs so effortlessly. it’s so messy,

a thumb of his swipes down the inner crevices of your thighs, getting a taste of it himself. “such a pretty girl,” he huffs, bringing the same thumb up to his lips to get a good enough taste. with the honeyed concoction of both flavors, he hums in contentment. “awww,” he stands up, taking in your dumbed down state. you were still panting, cum dripping out of your swollen hole.

you’ve still got a brief portion of your fist in your mouth - trying to suppress your sweet noises, split knuckles tickling against your tongue. “cute. c’mere, princess.”

you shudder, feeling him reposition your panties whilst pulling up your frilled skirt. with a teasing smile, he kisses your forehead, giving the fat of your ass one more squeeze. “you did so good,” and once he’s making sure you’re okay, with glossed eyes—you leer as he drags his slacks back up, zipping up his fly. as you gawk, gojo looks so handsome. ruffled white strands all over the place and his once professional dress shirt was now all unbuttoned ‘n scruffy. “hm,” he catches you staring, and he strokes the bottom of your chin. “you look hungry for more,” and his voice gets a bit low, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, watching as you pout once he devastatingly pulls away. “happy birthday baby.”

“t- thank you, ‘toru,” you speak, trying to catch your breath. abruptly, you’re suddenly being lifted up by him, bridal style. a gasp wrenches out of you before you involuntary hurl your feeble, numb arms over his tense shoulders. he smells so good, you sink your face into the collar of his tux, feeling his body rumble from a chuckle.

“welcome,” and he unlocks the dressing room, walking out with you in nowhere but his warms. glancing at you, he whispers in a sweet low tone. “let’s get you outta here, hm? a nice warm bath ‘s waitin’ for ya at home. don’t want my baby’s limbs to be all sore.”

and as gojo’s carrying you and your bags with one arm supporting underneath you—he continues to make his way toward the front of the store.

he’s met with a few eyes yet he could care less. all he cared about was you, his pretty princess.

you shift a bit in his arms, still feeling creamy remnants of his cum plug you full even while being protected by your panties and skirt. it sticks against the fabric and you couldn’t help but grow flustered, feeling your thighs glue ‘n stick together. as he’s just about to leave out the door, he’s interrupted by the loud sound of a beep.

it’s the anti-theft security alarm, and gojo groans once he’s stopped by one of the employees.

“sir, i think you forgot to pay.”

“oh right,” the white haired man rubs the back of his neck, gently placing you back down on your feet. you glance up at him and your forehead’s met with another one of his tender, sweet kisses. “stay put, baby.”

you nod, watching as his back turns. he trods toward the cashier, whipping out his black card that he had you use for the majority of the day. as he’s paying for your items, he apologizes for the inconvenience with the most faux unknowing expression. gojo leaves a big tip in advance before making his way back toward you.

his staggering height stands tall and he slings an arm over your shoulder. he grabs your bags, having you lean against him as you both finally make your way out of the store.

“c’mon, darlin,” gojo mutters in a low tone, guiding you out of the mall. he’s still holding you close, but he stops briefly to plant a kiss near the inside of your neck. “still not done makin’ a mess out of my messy baby girl.”

[daffodi1]

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