#the uh. 39 minutes. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ckret2 · 2 months

Text

Chapter 39 of human Bill Cipher is SURE he's about to escape being the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Ford's confronted with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he's a little bit too obsessed with Bill.

And meanwhile, Bill has found a way to reach his loyal cultists... if he can find somebody willing to help him make contact.

He thinks Ford is the perfect target.

Maybe, just maybe, the obsession goes both ways.

(warning for an incident of self-harm via burning, and depersonalization and/or dysphoria (depending on how you interpret it) re: Bill feeling even worse about his body than usual.)

####

Soos, Stan, and Ford had stayed up half the night trying to generate enough NowUSeeitNowUDontium to prevent it from vanishing the moment one of them lost (or gained) focus. They'd eventually given up and stayed the night in Northwest Manor. Soos had texted Melody around midnight, and she'd immediately replied (which alarmed Ford, but Soos assured him she was used to those hours) and agreed, with some trepidation, to spend the night by herself in the shack so that the kids wouldn't be alone all night with Bill. She'd texted a half hour later to report that the bathroom was a disaster, but the kids had reassured her it was just some werewolf thing, so, not a big deal.

Ford had thought getting to spend a night without Bill under the same roof would be a relief. Instead, he found his sleep was even worse. He kept worrying about what Bill might get up to so far away and out of sight, where Ford couldn't do anything to stop him. Surely, by nighttime, Bill had to have noticed that the only humans he'd seen all day were the kids? Would he consider Melody any kind of threat, no veteran to combating Gravity Falls' weirdness?

It figured that the dream demon would find a way to disrupt Ford's sleep when he wasn't even there.

####

Ford had given up on sleep around two in the morning and gone wandering until he stumbled across a den with walls covered in bookcases, massive windows overlooking the forest below, and a pair of richly upholstered armchairs turned to gaze out the windows. He drifted between the chairs to one of the windows. It was the kind of personal library he'd dreamed of accepting esteemed guests in, back when he'd fantasized about one day being rich and famous. He suspected the Northwests had never read a book in this room.

Ford had been staring out at the still night and the dark pines for several minutes when he heard the creak of a door and soft footsteps behind him. He whirled around, raising a weapon. "Back, you spectral fiend!"

"Whoa! Easy, Sixer!" Stan held up a hand defensively. "It's just me!" He lowered his hand. "Why are you holding up a dinner plate?"

"Er—sorry." Ford sheepishly tucked the silver dish under his arm again. "I'm sure I saw a ghost earlier. I thought it prudent to arm myself."

Stan muttered, "This place sure is creepy enough for it."

"Mm. It's built on more than its fair share of bones." Ford returned to gazing out the window, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm sorry today was a failure. When I'm staring right at an experiment on which the fate of the entire universe depends, it's hard not to think about it."

"Eh, I wasn't doing too hot either," Stan admitted, joining Ford at the window. "There's only so many times you can hear Soos whisper 'Think about the miniature particle accelerator' in your ears on a loop before you zone out and start thinking about fishing season."

Ford huffed. "Maybe we should have switched places."

"Yeah, probably. I retired from thinking about science after I got your dumb portal running, and once you get your head stuck on something you can't stop thinking about it."

Ford laughed wryly. "Unfortunately accurate."

There was a moment of silence; and then Stan said cautiously, "Speaking of you getting your head stuck on something..."

Ford didn't like that tone. "Hm?"

"I was, uh... doing some light reading..." He held up Ford's journal.

A jolt of anger and fear shot through Ford. "Give me—" He snatched the journal back.

It wasn't until it was in his hands that he registered the absurdity of his own action; for the past year, he'd given Stan free access to Journal 5. He'd used it to document their travels and discoveries as a reference for them both; he'd even asked Stan to contribute a couple of entries. Based on a prior precedent of seven months, Stan had every right to look at Journal 5. Revoking that access now was... Well, it didn't look good.

Stan didn't immediately say anything. Ford supposed his own actions said enough. He tucked the journal under his arm with the silver dish.

Stan cleared his throat. "I think we're a little past the 'superhero nemesis' thing."

"It's not a problem," Ford said tersely.

"Not a prob—? Ford, you're letting him consume your life."

"He's consumed all our lives. The kids haven't been able to invite anyone over, Melody all but runs to her car after work, you ended up in a showdown with fae nobility—"

"It was just the tooth fairy!"

"Do you know how important a fairy has to be to claim dominion over all teeth?"

"Forget about the fairy!" Stan waved off the whole fairy topic with one hand. "Look, I'm not the one who's dedicated half a journal to talking about him!"

"You don't keep a journal, Stanley—"

"That's not the point!"

"—I'm just saying, if you did keep a journal, I think he'd have come up on more than a few pages—"

"But like this?" Stan gestured toward Ford's journal. "This is turning into an obsession. And not one of your normal obsessions."

The back of Ford's neck heated up. He wanted to argue that he had to obsess over Bill if he hoped to find a way to kill him—but Stan already knew that Ford had passed off that project to Fiddleford weeks ago. "How can I be 'obsessed' with somebody I barely even see? I'm avoiding Bill like my life depends on it! I talk to him less than Mrs. Ramirez does!"

"And you're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private!" Stan gestured again, angrily, at Ford's journal. (Ford defensively tucked it further under his arm.) "You're acting like a stalker, Sixer. Not that I care about him, but, I'm starting to worry about your head."

"A st—?! I'm a scientist, he's a scientific curiosity! I'm documenting him! I document plenty of things!"

"Not like this, you don't."

"There's a lot to document!"

"Including spending a whole page trying to figure out—how to draw his—?!" Stan gestured furiously toward his boxers.

Ford pointed at him severely. "You were just as curious as I was to find out how a giant eyeball and a sentient triangle make that work, don't pretend you weren't."

Stan grimaced. "Okay, fine, I'll give you that one. But writing a full entry about his posture?"

"He's not only an alien being in a human body but a two-dimensional creature in a three-dimensional body, how he moves and gestures could tell us about how an utterly unfamiliar species perceived space! Nearly all his gestures adhere to an invisible coronal plane, that betrays worlds of information about his original anatomy. Do you know that elbow thing he does when he walks—"

"Ford. You're using your great-niece to get drawings of his childhood bedroom."

Ford raised a finger. "That's—" Ford lowered his finger. Ford sat in a nearby armchair, put his chin in his hands, and stared into space. "What am I doing."

Stan patted his shoulder.

Ford slid his journal and the dish out from under his arm and settled them in his lap. He stared at the cover, then thumbed through the pages. It was obvious when they'd returned to Gravity Falls; the drawings of Atlanteans, were-rats, shorelines, and boats immediately gave way to page after page of staring slit-pupiled eyes.

"It's just... Bill is an ancient being, many times older than our universe, and the last surviving specimen of his own bizarre species. As both an anomaly and a source of esoteric knowledge, he's an invaluable subject of study. He's going to die soon, and he should die, but... between now and then, I don't want to pass up the last ever opportunity to study him."

Stan sank down into the chair opposite Ford. "You're listening to yourself, right?" He didn't sound angry anymore, just worried. "This is a guy who tried to kill us. He isn't a 'specimen' you can add to your collection of weird stuff, you know that, right?"

"I know, I know." That was exactly why it was so important—why it seemed so important—to capture Bill in words and pictures before it was too late. (It was funny, Ford thought, how Stan's very first conversation with Bill had been a murder, and yet he was the one who talked about Bill like he was just some guy; while Ford had spent so many years obsessively trying to find out who Bill was that he'd almost forgotten he was a person instead of a terrible idea.)

"When execution day comes and you think you haven't dug up enough of his history, what'll you do? Give him a stay of execution until he's dictated his memoirs to you?"

"No," Ford said immediately. "No, of course not. I'm just taking advantage of the opportunity to learn what I can, while I can. It's no different from your 'shopping trip' at the mall—"

"Hey!" Stan pointed a finger at Ford. "Watch it! That was strictly business! It's not like I'm attached to the guy—"

"I didn't mean anything by it! I just meant—as long as we're stuck with Bill, make him useful, and—and to heck with him after that. Right?" Like Stan had said about the scratch cards: why throw away free money just because of the source? "He'd do the same to us."

Stan hesitated. "And you're sure that when the time comes, you'll be ready to pull the trigger?"

"I know I will. It won't be the first time. I'm just glad that this time I'll be able to aim at his own head."

"Hm." Stan didn't look convinced.

Ford sighed. "But, if I think I'll waver—I'll hand you the gun."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I promise."

But he knew he didn't need to.

####

Soos drove the tired gang home just past dawn, early enough for him to open the Mystery Shack on schedule.

"Soon as we get home, I'm going back to sleep," Stan muttered crankily. Ford—eyes shut, leaning against the window—nodded in agreement. Stan yawned, "And there'd better not be any nasty surprises at the shack."

####

Bill sat sleeping in his attic window seat, knees to his chest, leaning against the window, ear pressed to the glass.

Outside, Stan wailed, "My car!"

Bill's eyes snapped open. He smiled.

He ran to the kids' room, knocked on the door—"Hey, the bigger Pines are back!"—and bolted for the stairs.

####

Soos got the door open at the exact same time Bill stumbled off the stairs and collided with the living room doorframe. Bill grabbed the doorframe just long enough to steady himself, and then bounded over to the door, shoved Soos and Ford aside, and leaned out onto the porch. "HIYA, STAN!"

Stan whipped around to face Bill. "YOU!" He gestured furiously at the wizard graffiti on his car. "WHAT did you DO to my CAR!"

"Do you like it?"

Stan let out an inarticulate scream of rage.

"Oh, you love it!"

"You massacred it! I've had this car forty-five years! I've done things in this car I can't say! And it's never, never been so—so—violated!"

Grinning ear to ear, Bill said, "What do you think of the girl wizard?"

"The what?!" Stan circled the car. He screamed again.

"Uh-huh?"

"Why does she have a beard!"

"Go on," Bill said gleefully, "tell me what you think! I want the full review!"

"This," Stan said, "is the most ugly, hideous, terrible—"

Bill glanced back at a sound on the stairs. "Oh, hey Mabel! Get over here!" He gestured proudly as Mabel joined him in the doorway. "And here's the artistic mastermind herself!"

Stan choked on his words. "—b... beautiful, stunning, museum-worthy work of art I've ever seen."

Mabel beamed. "It's not finished yet, we ran out of some colors! I was going to add a dragon on the hood!"

Stan's face went white. "No no, it's... perfect the way it is. Don't—don't change a thing."

"Really? You're sure? I don't mind!"

"Really." Looking slightly nauseous, Stan said, "I love it just like this, pumpkin."

Mabel squealed and ran outside to give him a big hug.

Bill was fighting back silent laughter so hard he almost fell down.

####

"...And I still haven't found any sign of the Nightwigglers," Dipper said, sighing dejectedly and dropping his journal on the counter next to the cash register. "So, I dunno, maybe I should give up on this one and move on."

Wendy was sitting back with her feet kicked up on the counter, but she straightened a bit to look at Dipper's journal. She skimmed the news article he'd paperclipped to one page. "Oh, I heard about this," she said. "The cops talked to me about the first burglary. I was in the thrift shop that day."

"Oh, yeah?" Dipper pointed at the picture next to the article. "Did you see anything like this?"

Wendy's eyes widened. "No—but I think one of my brothers did."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, he was talking about it a couple nights ago. He said it was like an armless white thing wearing pants that went up to its face. We all thought he got spooked by a deer butt or something and made up the whole story. Then dad said we should drop it and told us we should stay in at night."

"That's when they come out! At night!" Dipper laughed excitedly. "Do you think your dad knows something?"

"Pfff, not if he can help it." Wendy pulled her feet off the counter and checked the clock. "I could show you the start of the trail my brother was on. It's like ten minutes by bike and the next big tour bus isn't getting here for half an hour, wanna sneak out?"

"Are you serious?! Of course!"

"Just promise you won't tell Gus if we find something. We've been making fun of him for days and I don't want to admit he was right." Wendy laughed. "Let me grab somebody to cover."

"I'll get my bike!" Dipper was already headed out the door. "I've been looking for a lead for days! I dug through half the dumpsters in town searching for their nests..." The door swung shut behind him.

Wendy ducked into the living room. "Hey Goldie."

"Yello?" He was sitting cross legged on the couch watching TV.

"I've gotta do something with Dipper, do you mind covering for a little bit? Just twenty, thirty minutes."

His gaze flickered to the TV, then back to Wendy's face. "Sure! Anything for you, cool girl."

Wendy had a brief, eerie sense of déjà vu. She shook it off. "I'm not interrupting anything good, am I?" She nodded at the TV.

"Naaah, it's one of those terrible specials about pyramid conspiracies." He shook a cider can, "I'm taking a sip every time they mention Fishmasons or 'ancient dinosaur-worshiping civilization.'"

"Dude. You'll be wasted before the first commercial break."

"Really, you're saving me from myself." He set the can on the TV and followed Wendy into the gift shop. (As he did, Bill checked to see if he had anything on under his hoodie. No? The Pines didn't want him to be seen in public in his hoodie; they thought it would make him "too obvious." He rolled up the sleeves to hide some of the brick pattern and surreptitiously tucked the hood and the bow tie drawstrings into the collar.)

As she headed out the door, Wendy repeated, "Just twenty minutes! Thirty tops. I'll get back before the next tour bus, promise."

"No problem!" He waved her off.

"I owe you one!"

Bill made a note of that.

He looked around the gift shop—any readily-obvious mischief he could get up to? He grabbed an 8-ball cane and took it to the counter. And then he took the stool behind the register, propped his chin in his hand, gazed toward the living room, and resumed watching TV through the wall and backwards. He didn't miss hearing the conspiracy talk—he was sure it was actively making him stupider—but credit where credit was due; they made those CGI pyramid models really hot.

A cutaway of one pyramid showed its internal tunnels and chambers. Bill bit his lower lip. Oh yeah. That's what he came here for.

Several minutes went by. The door opened and a lone tourist crept in, a middle-aged woman with a sun-damaged tan. Bill straightened up and switched his eye patch over to hide his bleeding eye. "Heya! Next tour's in..." He checked the clock, how long until the next bus? "About fifteen minutes."

The woman nodded and quietly started circling the gift shop.

Bill glanced toward the living room, decided he'd better not start damaging his other eye too, mentally cursed the tourist, and pulled out one of Wendy's magazines to read. "Let me know if you need anything."

The tourist spent several minutes making a slow circuit of the room, and then crept up to the cash register. Bill looked up with a smile, didn't see any souvenirs in her hands, and asked, "Can I help you?"

Hesitantly, the woman said, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

Bill's eye flew wide open, his heart leaped into his throat, and his breath hitched. His gaze roved over her exposed skin until he spied a tattoo on her right arm: four triangles stacked atop each other, starting with an equilateral and each getting shorter and more obtuse as they descended, until they'd reduced completely and a single horizontal line underlined all four triangles. This wasn't quite the happiest he'd ever been to see the symbol of a devastatingly self-destructive high-control cult, but it was close. "Oh! Oh, this is—" He rubbed his temples, squeezing his eye shut. "I know this. I rhymed 'red' with 'pyramid.' Why do I give everyone a different code. 'But rises gold over the pyramid'—something like that, right?" Bill gave the woman a pleading look. "I'm close enough that you can tell I know what you're talking about!"

A look of relief washed over her face. "You know him." Voice low, she asked, "Is it safe to talk?"

Knew him? He was him. But he couldn't claim that without proving it—what would convince her?—telling her something that only he knew?—great, but what? Her face was vaguely familiar—he thought he might've given her a visionary dream once—but he had so many little worshipers and they were so unimportant, most of them blurred together.

So all he could do was say, "It's not safe. Everyone here is an enemy."

She nodded sharply. "Where can we meet?"

Bill paused. "We can't. I'm... trapped."

Her brows creased with worry. "They're keeping you prisoner?"

"Afraid so."

"I could get the police—"

"Everyone," Bill repeated, "is an enemy."

She paused, processing that. Bill's gaze flickered to the clock. Wendy said twenty minutes, thirty tops. She'd been gone twenty-two minutes. "Someone's coming any minute."

"Right." The cultist grabbed Wendy's magazine, tore a corner off a page, and grabbed a pen.

"How did you find me?" Bill asked. Of all the tourist traps in all the tiny towns in all the world, how had she come in hereand walked right up to him?

"We were told a devotee was here," she said. "Someone sent the address and phone number to the Bahamian art studio."

Bill's mind spun. How? Who the heck would know to do that? The only person who knew he was here who'd come anywhere close to any of Bill's other worshipers was...

Ford? No. Did he?

The cultist shoved the paper in his hand and turned to leave.

Bill grabbed her arm. "Stay out of Gravity Falls," he commanded. "But stay close. Don't go back to Death Valley." Between the sun damage and the tattoo, she had to be one of his Death Valley girls. She looked like their usual prey: disaffected middle class white woman, probably had a dead end job and a mediocre husband and a useless degree from a liberal arts college. Maybe being able to guess where she came from would impress her.

It did. She stopped and turned back and looked at him in amazement—and then looked at him, staring hard at his eye. "You're... hosting him, aren't you?" Her voice fell to a whisper. "No. Are you...?"

"You got me." He smiled wryly—behold him, electric god bound in flesh, how low he's fallen, but at least he still has his good humor, doesn't he? "I always said you had great intuition." (It was a safe bet. He usually told the ladies that they had great intuition. Most of them ate that up, and the ones that didn't were often a little too savvy to sucker.)

It worked. She inhaled sharply. "You are," she breathed. "I knew you'd be a woman. Oh, Mary's a fool." She said this like she'd just won some years-old argument Bill had missed.

Mary, as in Mary-whom-Bill-had-put-in-charge-of-the-Death-Valley-compound Mary? Ha. She was getting on in years; maybe Bill could start a schism, that sounded fun. He opened his mouth to say something about Mary having great leadership but waning clarity of vision—

—when the cultist leaned across the counter, grabbed his collar, and pulled him into a kiss.

Okay. All right. She was one of those cultists. Got it. Got it got it got it. Wow. Definitely a "mediocre husband" convert, those were easy to seduce away with a little warmth and affection—nothing obvious, but get them infatuated with the idea of an unattainable incorporeal ideal lover and they'd chase him to the ends of the earth. Maybe a lesbian in denial that Bill had decided to push further into denial, if her assumption about Bill's gender was anything to go by. He tried to remember what he'd told this one.

He leaned into the kiss.

He'd done this before—in dreams, in puppets—he didn't prefer humans, but he could handle them well enough and earthlings had such pretty eyes. And this body he was stuck in made such insistent demands; a surge of human hormones washed over his brain so powerfully it made him dizzy. She broke the kiss to murmur, "Cipher, my lord—" and he took the opportunity to kiss her eyelid and lie, "I knew if anyone could find me, it would be you." He wished he remembered her name. She tugged his face back down to her lips. She was so eager. Cipher, my lord. Oh, it felt good to be revered again—

The door opened. "Um?"

If Bill had had one ounce of his power, he would have killed Wendy on the spot.

Instead, he seized his cultist's hands, ripped them off his hoodie, and shoved her away. "Whoa, lady! What do you think this is, a kissing booth?!" He laughed angrily. "We don't offer that kind of service here! Either get out, or—or buy a souvenir already!" He pointed at Wendy. "From her. Not from me."

Shocked, the cultist turned toward where Bill was pointing; and then turned back, understanding in her eyes.

Wendy raised her hands defensively, grimacing. "Yeah, no, I'm not serving you either. Just... get outta here."

The cultist met Bill's gaze for just a moment, then walked quickly out the door without a word.

Bill shouted after her, "And do not come back!" and quietly mourned as, for the second time in as many weeks, he had to watch helplessly as he sent away his only hope of getting any action/rescue.

"I am so, so sorry," Wendy said. "I leave for like ten minutes and you get one of the nightmare customers."

How Bill loved nightmares. "Twenty-five minutes, but who's counting."

"Psh, shut up." Wendy reclaimed her post behind the counter. "I think she's been here before, she looks kinda familiar. You okay?"

Bill hoped nobody else in town would recognize her. "I think I'll live after some mouthwash. Terrible breath." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Hey, remember when you said you owe me one? You really owe me."

####

All his cultist had written for him was a phone number. Bill slid his stolen journal from its window hiding spot and copied the number down in two-tone dots and dashes. Plaintext transcriptions were usually tricky, given the vast difference between the language Bill wrote in and the languages humans used—but numbers, at least, were easy. Everyone had numbers.

And then he stared at the scrap of paper, reading the numbers over and over, until he was sure he'd memorized them, just in case he ever lost the journal.

And then he ate the paper.

And then he stacked the two cushions of his makeshift bed on top of each other, planted his face in them, and screamed.

Cipher, my lord. It had felt so, so, so good to be revered again.

His organs twisted with touch-hunger and loneliness.

####

Out in the Bahamas, along the southwest edge of the Bermuda Triangle, were two nut job hermits from Miami. Bill had convinced them that the only way they could purge their sins and purify their souls was by sculpting and selling golden avatars of God into which they could pour their guilt, and they had to keep doing it until they no longer felt guilty (and they would never not feel guilty; they needed so much therapy that Bill had ensured they'd never get). And then he'd convinced them that God's true face was an Eye of Providence in a top hat and bow tie.

Over the years he'd lost a little control over those two—in their desperation to be free of sin, they'd also started sculpting avatars to as many gods as they could find and selling them en masse to afford more art supplies—but hey, as long as his face was still mixed in with the rest, fine. Honestly, he was surprised those nuts weren't dead yet.

Somebody in this house had sent his location to them. And in a moment of what Bill imagined was stunning mental clarity, they had passed on that information to the single least dysfunctional pocket of Bill's top cult in the continental United States. Maybe when Bill was back at full power, he'd drop by the hermits' dreams to tell them they'd finally achieved absolution and could rest. Their decades of out-of-control scrupulosity would probably prevent them from believing him, but hey, he could say he'd tried. He washed his hands of all responsibility over them and their mental illnesses that he'd knowingly deliberately exacerbated for his own benefit. Not his problem.

But the question he came back to, over and over, was who had talked to them.

Bill needed to reach his Death Valley cultist. He needed a phone. Every phone in this house was well-guarded. No one would let him touch one... except, perhaps, whoever had sent the SOS on his behalf.

The only person who made sense was Stanford. Bill didn't think he'd ever told Ford about the nutty sculptors; but in the eighties he had given him the mailing addresses of some niche art dealers who would sell tapestries and statues of an obscure one-eyed god to collectors who could appreciate what they were looking at. Maybe Ford had gotten back in contact with them? Maybe he'd told them where Bill was, and they'd passed the information to the Bahamas?

Maybe Ford's feelings weren't quite so cold toward Bill as he'd been pretending.

Bill liked that idea a lot.

Maybe Bill's birthday gift had swung Ford back around to the side of reason—reminded him just how good he'd had it under a muse and mentor willing to teach him anything his nerdy little heart desired. Or maybe he'd always wanted to come back, and had just needed Bill to say it first.

He probably only pretended he hated Bill because they were surrounded by enemies—everyone in the house thought Ford was looking for a way to destroy Bill, what would happen if they knew the truth?

But the truth was there. Bill could almost seize it in his hands. All those moments where they almost talked like they were friends again, before Ford had to stop himself and leave. That one beautiful little word: jealous. And of course, there was the whole thing with the glass pyramid and the "Mysteries" that Ford had passed on—

—to Mabel.

There was another possibility.

As much as Bill would love if it was Ford, Mabel was the only person in the house who acted like she actually wanted Bill alive. Whatever "Mysteries" Ford was teaching her had something to do with Bill, the pyramid made that obvious. Maybe his lessons included the contact information of everyone else Ford knew who knew Bill? Maybe she'd taken it upon herself to call for help?

It was thin. And it was still dependent upon Ford harboring a secret loyalty to Bill that he was passing on to his great-niece. But that was where things stood: Ford was the only person in the house who definitely knew how to reach Bill's followers, but Mabel was the only person in the house who definitely might want to.

And he had to make completely sure of which one of them it was before he asked for a favor.

####

Ford had missed dinner again.

Fiddleford had sent Ford home with a pile of math. All the calculations he'd done to get the miniature particle accelerator to produce Dontium. By his reckoning, that there jar should've filled with Dontium faster than greased lightning; he just plumb can't understand why it trickled in like cold molasses. (His words.) He'd asked Ford to check his work, see if he'd missed something.

Ford was more than happy to help. It was a much-needed intellectual challenge that didn't involve Bill's underhanded birthday gift. Something that would let him feel like he was making progress. And it was comfortingly familiar. He and Fiddleford had spent weeks checking and re-checking each other's math in the lead up to the portal test, before they knew what a horror they were building.

As soon as Ford had gotten home, he'd put Fiddleford's papers in his underground study before going back to bed. Bill had already admitted he could glimpse the future, although Ford wasn't sure how far; and Ford was growing convinced that Bill's ability to perceive "higher dimensions" let him see through walls like they weren't there. He'd begun keeping Journal 5 and other sensitive materials down in his study at all times, hoping that the distance and layers of dirt and rock would keep Bill from peering in.

And when he'd dragged himself out of bed around noon—an embarrassingly late hour to get up, but he had been awake most of the night—he'd grabbed a quick breakfast/lunch, brewed a pot of coffee to take with him, and gone below to get to work.

He'd only worked seven or eight hours with a couple of reluctant breaks in the middle before his head began pounding too hard for him to ignore. He'd been neglecting his exercise regimen the past few weeks, and his back and neck were letting him know. In his thirties, he'd been able to work fourteen hours days and still want to keep going—and that was even before he'd handed his body over to Bill so he could keep working around the clock. He wasn't as young as he used to be.

He dragged himself upstairs after sunset, when the last ambient light from the sky still faintly glowed through the windows. He could make something quick and simple for dinner, go to bed early, and get up early to continue working. He pushed through the door to the dark living room—

"Hello!"

"Gah!" Ford jumped. "You. What are you doing here?"

Bill was leaning next to the door, a dim silhouette with his elbow on the wall and cheek in his hand. Even in the dark, Ford was sure he could see Bill's wicked grin at his reaction. "I happen to live here."

Ford let out an irritated huff. "Whatever you're up to, I don't have time to deal with it. Find someone else to bother." He pushed past Bill and headed toward the kitchen.

It would have been too much to expect Bill not to follow him, wouldn't it? "Aw, c'mon, don't be like that! Would it kill you to act like you're happy to see me?"

"Probably."

Bill's laugh made Ford's shoulders raise up around his ears. Maybe that was the source of his neck pain.

Bill shadowed him into the kitchen and leaned on the table, watching while Ford rummaged through the fridge. "But seriously, Sixer—who are you trying to impress by giving me the cold shoulder? I'm the only one here. You could afford to treat me like a person for two minutes." When Ford slammed the fridge door, Bill smacked it with the tip of an 8-ball cane. "Hey, have my food privileges been revoked? Give me a turn."

How long had Bill had a weapon? Ford snatched the cane from him, but opened the fridge and left it. "I don't consider you a person. I consider you an incalculably destructive force of pure, brutal chaos." He cracked three eggs in a skillet and opened a cabinet for one of the stove knobs they kept stored where Bill couldn't reach them.

"Flattering!" Bill started pulling out his usual nauseating array of condiments: today was sauerkraut, maraschino cherries, mustard, ranch dressing, and barbecue sauce. (Why did he eat like that? Did his species usually subsist on a mostly liquid diet? Was it the flavors—?) "Hey, make me mac 'n' cheese, wouldja?"

"No."

"Fine. Leave the burner on when you're done, I'll make it myself."

"You're not allowed to use the stove."

"Then how about I sit here drinking mustard while you enjoy a hot meal." Bill waved three eggs at Ford. "At least make me eggs too. Zero extra effort on your part. I'll even crack them for you if you want."

Ford gave Bill a dark look; but he supposed, as one of the people who had agreed that Bill wasn't allowed to cook, he was in no position to complain about Bill begging him to cook on his behalf. He snatched the eggs out of Bill's hand. "How do you want them."

"I haven't eaten enough chicken eggs to have a preference. Whatever you'll complain least about doing."

Poorly scrambled eggs it was. Ford shut the fridge and returned to the stove.

Bill sat on the table and crossed his legs in lotus position while he waited. "But really, what do you get out of pretending you can't stand me! We both know it's an act."

Ford gave him a tired, sour look. "Even for you, you sound delusional."

"I know you don't really hate me."

"I could write an entire dissertation and earn another Ph.D. on the topic of how much I hate you."

Ford hated how excited Bill looked by that. "Would you?"

"No! Why would I waste that much time thinking about you?"

"It seems to me like you're already doing that."

The hair on the back of Ford's neck prickled. Surely Bill just meant Ford's research into how to kill him; but his mind flashed to the miniature grimoire he'd spent all his time poring over—the blueprints of Bill's childhood home—the face he'd absent-mindedly drawn in his journal in the middle of the night and quickly scribbled out. Could Bill still see through that face? Had Ford remembered to blind Bill's eye on the blueprints? What about the eyes drawn in his human faces? Did Bill know about Ford's other studies? What did it matter—nothing Ford was doing was wrong. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill's smile slowly widened. "Sure you don't. You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. You might as well lean into it."

You're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private. "I am not..." Wasn't he? You're acting like a stalker, Sixer.

"Oh, Fordsy, come on." Bill uncrossed his legs, slid off the table, and was across the room faster than Ford had expected. Ford instinctively took a step back and bumped into the oven; Bill reached past him to lean a hand against the edge of the stove, inches from touching him. "You're not hiding it half as well as you think you are. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He smirked up at Ford, exposed eye wide and eager, utterly fascinated with him. "And bringing Mabel in on it? I'll have to admit, that surprised me. Can't say I disapprove, though."

Ford couldn't tell if the heat on the back of his neck was from Bill's accusations or the stove. "I beg your pardon?" What was he talking about—their conversation in Portland? The blueprints of Bill's home? (Using his great-niece to spy on Bill, lord, what was Ford doing?)

"Quit messing around! The Mysteries, Stanford. You think I don't know I'm the star of that show?" He poked the center of Ford's chest, "There's no way you joined a cult, you're not enough of a team player! What'd you do? Invent your own cult of one? Mixed a little of what I taught you, a little of whatever you learned out in the multiverse? I know you were asking around about me." Bill chuckled. "You want to keep your little rituals private, fine—I think it's cute, really—just tell me one thing I've been dying to know: how much have you told the kid?"

Ford stared at Bill.

Then he laughed in his face. "You really bought that?"

Bill's smile immediately vanished. "What?"

Ford shoved Bill's hands away. "There are no 'Mysteries.' It was a joke."

Bill stepped back, staring at Ford, brows furrowed. "A...? No," he said. "She's got that glass pyramid—"

"She wanted it because it was pretty," Ford said. "I gave her one since I was throwing them all out."

"That's the stupidest story I've ever heard. Then why would she have brought up the Mysteries!"

"Because," Ford said, "I told her, if you asked about the pyramid, she should make up something to confuse you."

Bill's mouth was open, but no words came out. His face had rapidly turned red. Several emotions flashed across his face in quick succession, from shock to confusion to humiliation to a rage so deep it almost looked like disgust. For a moment, from how Bill's fingers were curling like claws, Ford was sure Bill was about to attack him.

But then he clenched his jaw, backed off, leaned on the table, jammed his fists down against the tabletop, and glared at the floor.

Ford turned back to the stove, grinning to himself. Some of the eggs had burned slightly. Those were Bill's now. "What's the matter? Did you forget that humans can lie?"

Bill didn't reply.

"I'm surprised you didn't expect it. I seem to remember we got you with an impressive whopper last year—"

"Shut up."

"Now you don't want to talk?"

"Now you do?"

Good point; he didn't. If he'd finally rendered Bill speechless, he should enjoy it while he could.

He'd have to thank Mabel later for inventing the Mysteries. Sometimes that girl could be genius.

Ford turned off the burner, put the stove knob away, and dumped the eggs onto two plates. He didn't even bother to keep track of which plate had the burned eggs.

He shot a quick, exasperated look at Bill—he'd sat on top of the table again—and dropped a plate next to him. "Here." He grabbed a bag of bread and looked around for the toaster.

Behind him, voice trembling but low and dangerous, Bill said, "Don't look at me like that."

Ford glanced back warily. "Like what?"

Bill violently shoved off the table. There was an awful squeal of sliding furniture. Before Ford could react, Bill was in his face, grabbing him by his turtleneck, dragging him in, forcing him to look up at Bill.

Ford's peripheral vision was filled with gold. They were so close their noses nearly touched.

"Like you don't remember who I am!" Bill stared down with wide-eyed seething rage. "Your muse!" His voice cracked, "Your god!"

Ford stared up at Bill, speechless.

Then he looked down.

Bill was standing on a chair to make himself taller than Ford.

Ford ripped Bill's hands off his sweater. "You were never, ever my god."

Bill stumbled off the chair, catching himself hard on the edge of the table to keep from falling completely. "That's not true!" He heaved himself back onto his feet with a wince. "You worshiped me—"

"I admired you!" Ford jabbed a finger at Bill's chest. "I respected you! I—I even idolized you, but I never worshiped you!"

Bill jabbed a finger back, "You're splitting hairs! You practically turned your study into a temple to me—tapestries, rugs, statues—"

"Because you said it would help me reach you!"

"And it did! That's what shrines are for, genius!"

"It wasn't a shrine! Not to me."

"You're kidding me! All the money you dropped on that gold-plated statue and you expect me to believe that wasn't an act of worship—"

"Do not. Remind me. How much. That stupid statue cost."

"If you didn't build a shrine for worship then what in the world did you build it for!"

"Friendship!" Ford took a shaky breath in. "I thought... I honestly thought you—you—were my best friend." The air in the room trembled with heat. They were standing too close to each other. Ford refused to be the one to back up.

"I was," Bill said. "I still could be if you'd stop being a moron."

Ford laughed in disbelief. "Which is it, were you my god or my friend?!"

"They're not mutually exclusive—!"

"You can't keep your story straight for THIRTY SECONDS!"

"Don't you call me a LIAR, after EVERYTHING I taught you—!"

"In all the years I've known you I don't think you've told me the truth ONCE—!"

Stan flipped on the lights.

They froze and stared at him. They had their hands around each other's throats. Bill had a foot planted on Ford's stomach like he was trying to get a foothold to climb him. They were both covered in egg.

Stan said, "Could you do this in the morning?"

Ford said, "Sure."

Bill said, "He started it."

"I st—?! You started all of this thirty years ago—"

"Guys," Stan said tiredly.

With some effort, Ford unpeeled his hands from Bill's neck.

To his surprise, Bill voluntarily let go as well. Ford snatched up what was left of his plate of eggs, took the loaf of bread—he had lighters, he could toast it downstairs—and left the kitchen, turning the light off as he went.

Stan was waiting out in the entryway. "Heading to bed?"

"No." Ford shoveled a forkful of eggs in his mouth. "Going to be up late." He was too angry to sleep. He could eat, take a painkiller for his headache, and keep working.

"More research?"

"No. Calculations."

Stan's shoulders slumped; but all he said was, "Suit yourself. Don't stay up too late."

Ford glanced back once into the kitchen. Bill wasn't moving. He sat slumped in a chair, elbows on his knees. He'd pulled on his hood. Its eye stared at Ford.

Ford wasn't about to pity Bill over a performative display of angst. He'd fallen for that already.

He returned to his study and mathematics.

####

Bill stared at his plate of eggs. He mechanically pushed them around on the plate until they formed a perfect equilateral triangle. He scooped out an empty white eye in the middle.

He stood, snatched up the plate, and smashed it on the floor.

They thought he was stupid. They thought he couldn't use a stove if it didn't have knobs, as if he was a child! The humans made it easy for themselves to think of him as a child when they treated him like one, "baby-proof the doors" and "no sharp objects" and "don't talk to strangers." He could show them.

He grabbed the stem where one of the knobs had been removed, and twisted. He heard the hiss of gas under the burner. Everyone was asleep. He could fill the house with gas. It would only take a little push to make a spark and set the entire shack ablaze. In the dark room, he could see the first glimpse of future flames flickering yellow-orange in the periphery of his foresight. No one would survive. Who's your god now, smart guy? He'd rise like a phoenix from his own corpse and he'd tear this town apart.

Where was Mabel?

Was she home tonight?

Bill turned off the gas.

He pushed up his sleeve and pressed the fleshy part of his forearm onto the still-hot burner. The pain burned away his jumbled anger so he could think clearly.

Who cared how the nutty sculptors had gotten Bill's address? He was making good progress on lucid dreaming; maybe he'd astral projected across the country to call for help and forgotten it when he woke up. He'd probably saved himself without even remembering it. It didn't matter. The important thing was that they'd received the message; and now, Bill had friends on the outside. Friends who were on his side.

If he could ever contact them again.

Bill would find a way. He didn't need Ford's help. "Never worshiped you." Ha.

He needed fresh air. Even if it wasn't safe to escape yet, he needed to breathe. He carried himself backward through doorway into the gift shop, pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof—

The trap door was shut. He stared up in despair.

He shot a glare toward the vending machine, and angrily crossed back into the living room.

The air was so stuffy inside the shack. "Never worshiped you." Liar. If it wasn't worship then what was it?

Bill took himself upstairs. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He lay on his makeshift bed curled up around himself, arms wrapped tight across his stomach, his burn pressed hard against a layer of knit yarn, thighs pulled up against his arms. It was a wholly alien position. It felt unnatural and bizarre. This body had curled like this of its own volition. It seemed like the only thing that briefly smothered the ache of emptiness and the hormonal inferno screaming loneliness through every vein. The loneliness wasn't his. He wasn't lonely. This body was.

Cipher, my lord.

He hated this body.

He ached to be revered again.

####

It was two in the morning. Ford sat at his desk, pages and pages of math scattered before him, glasses off, hand rubbing his eyes.

He didn't want to be checking a mountain of math like a human calculator. He wanted to be studying strange magic and researching new anomalies. He wanted to be digging through Bill's grimoire.

He wanted to be awed again.

####

(I've been waiting to write/draw Bill screaming his grief over not being worshiped since literally April. I hope y'all enjoyed! This is one of my favorite chapters so far, I'd love to hear what y'all think!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(*immediately edits post because i forgot the brick pattern on Bill's hoodie*)

296 notes · View notes

sherwees · 2 months

Text

cw : y/n is kinda freaky in this idk (I snorted), guess who's our roommate important, fat shaming a cat, huge cat alert, mega pussy(cat), jeno big schlong core, desperate jeno (but only for a second), just a simple blowjob and his cum tastes like WHAT?!

side note: I took long asl writing this because I'm so used to writing for wayv like the 2 day gap between the haechan fic and hendery fic compared to the 13 day gap between this fic and the hendery fic makes me SICK.

extra note: I've never written for jeno before either.

apart of the nct corny plots series!

why were you so excited for a fuckass plumber?

you had a bigger problem anyway, under your sink it smelt like fucking mold and water.

man fuck this.

your roommate, jungwoo was barely home.. you asked him if he knew anything about pipes and he only sent a dog emoji.

there was a familiar brushing in between your feet, you looked down at your fatass white cat, nella rubbing against your ankles. jungwoo thought that it'll be funny to make her rhyme with nutella because her old owner said that supposedly.. she ate jars of it.

picking her up, you think you tore your acl but once you met eyes with her; you felt kinda bad. isn't that basically neglecting..? but whatever, she's fine now.

nella's head nudged against your flat hand against the counter, you obligated unconsciously to petting her whilst spacing out on a random hummingbird perched on a fence.

“nella, do you think I'm weird?” you asked the unaware feline, she only licked your palm with a sequence of purrs. that was probably a yes. you sighed and fixed the navy blue edge of your short nightgown, there was then a knock at your door.

it's must've been him before nella jumped her big ass down and skedaddled to the basement. “who is it?” you called whilst heading towards the door, trying to identify the warpy figure through the translucent glass. “uhm, I'm here to fix your pipes” jeno, you presumed, scratched his head, you could make out his muscular figure.

you opened the door with uncertainty and the first thing you noticed was his dirty ass uniform and the smell of dirt and water bouncing off your senses. “you're jeno, right?” you said with a coy smile, trying to not look at his bulky torso by keeping unwanted eye contact. he only nodded, his shy doe eyes met yours finally.

“well, don't be shy.. come in then.” you muttered, you might've even given him a dirty look. this hefty nearly 6 foot male was so shy for what, what if he was a criminal? eligible for death row?!

not your problem, for now.

right now.. you wanted to have his kids.

you unconsciously licked your lips as he walked past, like that one italian weirdo from that weird italian movie where they fucked every 39 minutes. you know, that one? why was his ass fatter than yours?

“um, what seems to be the problem?” jeno's voice echoed from the kitchen, snapping you out of your thoughts. only yelping an “oh!”, you shuffled like a flintstone to the kitchen and found him leaning in the corner of your kitchen counters; looking at the sink and you with uncertainty.

“oh well,” you clasp your hands walking over to the sink. “so basically.. urm.. uh” you side eyed him for a second before scratching your head. “it smells like mold and.. urm..” you looked at his nose again, stop looking at his nose, don't look at his lips?! why are you looking at his DICK?!

“I'll just show you.” you sighed before falling to your knees and opening the cabinet, the smell of mold almost made you shrivel into a fucking pinecone. jeno must've gotten whiff of it too because his nose scrunched in disgust and he held back a gag, but soon you'll be gagging on his– not now.

“see, but I think—” you said, slapping your hands in dismay. you crawled under the sink, looking for that bitchass rustic pipe that you glanced at earlier. “it seems like it's this one pipe–” you babbled on and on about the pipe, literally it sounded like mimimimimi. but he really focused on, your negligee raising with every subtle movement of yours; you weren't even wearing panties..

you were leaking, more than the pipes probably.

and it needed some fixing.

if you get what I'm saying hahahaha ahhahahahah oh.. never mind.

“yeah and all he does is send me–” you came from under the sink, jeno's tongue clicked. his expression was a line between curious, perplexed, maybe focused on something.

“oh.” you mumbled, he was spaced out on something and definitely didn't listen to your rant about you undependable roomie. you looked behind you to see what he was so interested in besides your rambling but you only looked at him in confusion.

“um..” you popped your lips inward before he suddenly cleared his throat. his eyes widening in a quick realization, “oh my fault..” his belt scuffled against the cabinet when he tried to adjust his now.. erection.

urmmm, let's just ignore that.

he anchored his back slightly, “there seems to be a lot of moisture–” he paused weirdly, eyeing your slick hole once you looked away. “on that one rusty pipe..” the male pointed at the anomaly. you could only nod, hands respectfully clasped together.

“so, I'mma start working on that..” he said whilst grabbing a wrench. “it only needs a replacement and I should be done..” he reassured, raising his head with a squiggly grin; his cheeks flushed.

simply, you nodded awkwardly before he continued with his work. what do you do now? you decided to situate yourself on your couch, glancing at him every once and a while. but during one of your peeping moments, there was a big white blob heading towards jeno.. wait NELLA?!

the feline brushed against his leg, jeno froze. you bit your lip in fear that he'll just storm out or what if he breaks out in hives? with a gut wrenching clang of his wrench, your fucking heart stopped. but, his hand extended towards the mass you called your beloved cat and your heart resumed but it still kept a hectic beat.

nella approached his inviting hand before she started to lick his index before grazing her teeth on his nail; about to bite him. almost breaking your ankle, twisting it, stubbing your toe, chipping a nail, almost falling over nothing, almost falling over a plant, almost falling over a chair, almost dying, you pick up nella and almost tear your fucking hamstrings.

she ended up biting your forearm instead and threw herself down the basement stairs, “oh, I'm sorry..” you carried a solemn tone whilst rubbing at the small but wide bite mark with a sigh. jeno stands to his feet, concern etched on his features as he inspects the wound.

his hand found your wrist and pulled it towards him, you winced at the rough padding of his fingers. “cats could really be unpredictable, huh?” he declared playfully as miniscule drops of blood seeped from the wound, you giggled at his comment but it wasn't fucking funny because what if you got rabies? you wished he would actually just break out into hives right now.

“I mean.. are you okay?” jeno finally looked up at you, his deep black eyes punctured into your soul.. there was some sort of romantical vibe in them.

you blunk and the room spun.

there's suddenly rose petals EVERYWHERE, the room is hot as hell, careless whisper is playing in the background and he suddenly has a comically large moustache like mario, “mi mujer, mi todo, ¿te importaría si atendiera tu herida?” his sultry gaze met your muddled face, his eyebrow raised suggestively and the buttons of his shirt popped in your face and revealed his toned torso. you seriously have no words and even I can't explain this scene as I'm typing it.

you only nodded before jeno broke out into pirouettes as he spun to the bathroom and came back with bandages twirling around and above him into a pretty pattern of curls and ended in a break out of elegant dance moves then a split.

“mi amor déjame atenderte..” he placed a chaste kiss on the lesion, it burned. he wrapped the bandage around your forearm and tore it off with a smirk.

everything was suddenly back to normal, his moustache was gone. “man what the fuck was that?!” you stumbled back and rubbed your bandaged arm in confusion, jeno's lips were parted in bewilderment. he was staring like it was your fault,

“nothing happened?” he stated sternly.

“yes, something happened! you turned into a fucking whatever the fuck!”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” he retorted, crossing his arms across his torso and steadying his weight on one foot with a pop to his hip. “you know what, never mind.. is my sink fixed?” you asked with restraint frustration whilst rubbing your forehead, keeping yourself steady on the island just incase you would black out.

jeno shook his head, “I mean, I could fix it faster if you helped a bit..?” he asked shyly and smiled when you nodded, you now noticed the crinkle in his eyes when he did so.. heading over to the sink, you crawled into the small space along with him.. he handed you the flashlight.

he slid into the confined space, “just point it where my hand is, alright?” he reassured you before continuing with his handiwork. jeno's muscles flexed and strained with every twist and turn of the screws. every once in awhile his leg would nudge against your bare thigh, which you now noticed and pulled the hem of the gown down but it'll just raise up slightly above your ass once again but you're sure that jeno wouldn't notice.

but, he did. the curvature of your ass would be exposed with every subtle movement of his leg, yes he's a weirdo and he's intentionally but unintentionally brushing his knee in that same area. his boner was becoming quite visible and ample than before, his neck burned in restrainted arousal and he was probably a bright cherry red. he swore that if that bitchass dress raised even an inch more, he woul– it did.

“sorry miss, I need to g-get some tools from my truck.” jeno slid out and quickly stood on unsteady feet, you realized that his hands were weirdly set at his groin area once you looked up at him with unintended doe eyes.

uttering a quick “fuck”, he finally gave in.

jeno's hand coursed through your hair gently, his rugged hands running through the tangles. his erection now stood out like a spear like those over exaggerated brazzers videos, his hand gripped your scalp and nudged you towards his soaked tip and pulled his cargos down with the other.

“I– uh.. need you to suck me off, please..” he pleaded stupidly, his speech slurred and rasped slightly as his hand found the hem of his pants. “you're so fucking pretty, please..” he whined once his cock sprung out, you were NOT going to take that flag pole down your throat, but you gave an exception for him. both of his hands found your head, gripping and clenching to your head with urgency, jeno chuckled triumphantly once you parted your lips.

the masculine scent of his member intoxicated your senses, the tip placing a blob of precum on the tip of your nose and ran down to your lip. your tongue peaked out and licked the cream off the bump, it tasted awfully sugary?

enveloping his tip into your mouth, he grunted loudly, his gentle touch turning tense in your hair. jeno's hand guided your head up and down his lengthy member, your narrow esophagus pulsating and clenching with every hurried thrust down it. veins sprawled from his other hand to his neck whilst it gripped the island, his eyes rolling back to his skull once you managed to take him all the way to his base.

“s’ fucking good at this..” he praised in an unattractive wheeze, jaw unhinging to emit another groan. he suddenly stilled at the back of your throat, your glossy,pleading eyes looking up at him. jeno started to gyrate against your nose, your jaw and lips straining trying to accommodate to his girthy base as you held back a series of gags and chokes.

his head bumped and leaked precum against your tonsil once he resumed his shallow thrusts. “m’ so close..” jeno rasped, his balls tensing against your chin. with a final shove of your head and another gag from your end, he exploded in your mouth. why'd it taste like that? you suddenly pulled away, gasping for air at the realization.

“jeno—” you hiccuped, his aching cock bobbed, resting against your top lip; quite literally interrupting you. in your blurry peripherals, nella licked at a small droplet of his release; your stomach caved at the sight.

the sweetness of his cum made you sick, the thick substance coated your throat for what seems to feel like globs. “why does it—” you coughed and choked on air, jeno suddenly picked you up by the armpits and sat your writhing figure on the counter.

“your cum tastes like cheesecake..?”

taglist: @haechansbbg

#nct smut #kpop smut #smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #kpop drabbles #nct fic #nct fanfic #jeno #nct dream #nct dream fic #nct #jeno smut #jeno x reader

253 notes · View notes

captainpricelover · 10 months

Text

Spiderdilf

Peter b. Parker x f!reader

Word count - 2k

Warnings: Profanity, large age gap(18-39) infidelity. Smut!!! P in v sex. Slightly rough sex, Peter cheats on MJ with Mayday’s babysitter

Names used: Angel, Doll

You babysit part-time to help pay for tuition but also lashes and nails. I mean who isn’t a high-maintenance girly nowadays? This isn’t your first babysitting job but it is your hardest. The child you babysit, Mayday is very special she is basically Spiderman but that isn't the hardest part of this job, the hardest thing is probably the thing in her dad's pants every time he sees you.

You never thought you would spend 20 minutes attempting to get Mayday down safely from the ceiling, but here you are. The chair under you wobbles as you stretch your limbs trying to grab the ginger child. Peter walks in, and the noise from the front door startles you, causing you to lose your balance. Mayday finally decides that she's bored of the ceiling and jumps down into your arms. All this causes you to lose your balance, you squeeze your eyes shut and tighten your grip on Mayday bracing for contact with a hardwood floor. But it never happens instead, you find yourself being carried bridal style by Peter.

“Don’t worry I got you, kiddo,” He smiles while squeezing your thigh before placing you down on the floor and taking Mayday from you. Peter’s hair is slightly messy, and the jacket from his suit is tossed over his shoulder while his tie hangs loose around his neck.

“Where’s MJ?” You ask slightly tilting your head.

“Work emergency,” He laughs “Taste of my own medicine I guess, I’m the one usually running off halfway through the date due to work,”

“Was your date still good?”

“The food was delicious, got some in a box in the car, you can snack on while I drive you home if you want to wait in the car. I'll be there in a few minutes,”

“I mean you paid me for a couple more hours so I don’t mind helping you put her to sleep and cleaning with the uh-mess”

The house was a state, Mayday’s toys are scattered everywhere, and her costumes completely cover the sofa, crayons on the walls and even the ceiling. It wasn’t a one-person job barely a two-person job but hopefully, you and Peter could make it work.

“It's also partially my fault your house is like this, so I’ll feel guilty if you make me go now”

“Don’t blame yourself, Mayday is a handful. The number of babysitters who quit within the first few minutes”

“Minutes?” You laugh

“Sometimes its seconds, Mayday is pretty picky but she seems to like you,”

Neither of you has noticed the fact that she's fast asleep in Peter’s arms but when you do your conversation stops, slowly down both of your movements making sure not to make any noise that would wake Mayday up. Peters nods his head, signalling that he's off upstairs. You smile before heading over to the lounge as you begin picking up Maydays toys and putting them in a basket. A few minutes pass before you hear Peter walking down the stairs but he doesn’t come into the lounge instead you hear the front door open. Shit. There's probably a spider-man related emergency, you carry on cleaning but are surprised when Peter comes back through the front door, carrying his leftovers in a white plastic bag

“You hungry?” He smiles slightly lifting the plastic higher into the air

“A little,” To be honest you were staved looking after Mayday drains all the energy out of you.

Peter puts the food in the microwave before pushing some newspapers and files into a pile, clearing a space for you to sit on his island. You happily sit on one of the stools as the microwaves bing. He takes the food before sitting on the stool next to yours, placing the food in between the both of you. You admire the domesticity of the scene, you never had a man cook for you before (Microwaving food is 100% what Peter considers cooking) There's always been a feeling of admiration for Peter, but seeing him now and being alone in his presence, you’re starting to believe you might have some actual feelings for him.

“So, you got a boyfriend?” Peter asks trying to make small talk

“Uh- no I don’t” You take a bite of leftover steak

“Good,”

“Good?”

“I-I mean,” He stutters for a few seconds “It's good because I would feel guilty for keeping you here when you could be spending time with him as well. Any reason don’t you have?”

“I guess I’ve never met the right, all the guys at my school are right dickheads,” He cocks an eyebrow “What? I bet you were the same in school?”

“Oh god no I was a right nerd in high school. I would never even talk to a girl as pretty as you, let alone be mean to one,” He laughs and you join in

“I could never see you being a nerd with the whole Spiderman shebang and the whole dilf thing you got going on”

“Dilf?”

“You don’t know what a dilf is?”

“I know what a milf is, so I’m going to guess it has a similar meaning.

You carry on the small talk while you both finish the leftovers. He entertains you with stories about him taking down villains and you get him up to date with all the latest school drama. The rest of the chores are split up between the two of you. Peter’s job is to clean the drawing on the ceiling. A job that's impossible for you since you lack any superpowers. You end up washing the dishes. The conversation between the two of you has died down so you put in some AirPods and listen to music. While scrubbing some stubborn stain you feel a pair of rough hands latch on to you, it's Peter. He gently guides you to the side so he can access the cupboard under the sink. His touch sends an eclectic shock through your entire body, especially to your lower abdomen where you can already feel pressure starting to form. You take out one pod and look up at Peter

“Sorry, didn’t want to disturb you listening to your tunes” He laughs his hands still on your hips

“Oh no, it's fine. You just startled me,”

“Are you tense? It seems that I’m always scaring you. Something on your mind? I’m always here if you need to talk, angel,”

Your heart skips a head at the new nickname he has given you, you stutter out some appreciative nonsense before he lets go of your hips, and your body craves his touch. It was only a small dose but now your already addicted. He squats down and grabs some supplies before shooting a web at the ceiling and launching himself at it to continue cleaning.

Half an hour passes and the house is completely spotless. No evidence of Mayday’s wild escapades is left. Peters decides to head inside the panty to grab a sweet treat to congratulate him on a job well done. You follow him. The pressure inside your lower abdomen has gotten stronger over time instead of going away, so you are most likely blinded by lust when you decide to ask him

“Did you really mean it when you said I was pretty?” You question while leaning against the frame of the entrance to the pantry

“Of course, I did, your gorgeous,” He smiles as a million impure thoughts appear in his mind “But you’re too young for me angel,” He sighs but before you could feel any sense of rejection his lips crash into yours. His hand attached itself to your hair at the crown of your head while the other one finds its way up your baby tee and being to fondle your breast. He pushes you against the wall, deepening the kiss but as quickly as he begins kissing you he ends it.

“Oh god angel, shit I’m so sorry,” He apologised as he let go of your hair “I don’t know what came over me. I-”

He is about to remove his hand from your breast when you interrupt him

“I liked it,” You smile

This time, its Peter who is shocked

“I want you Peter,” You confess and it sets this man off like a bomb. His hands are back on your body exploring every crevice he can over your clothes. You return the favour as you begin fiddling with his belt, it takes a few seconds but you finally undo the belt and his zipper. Before you could pull his bulge out of his boxers he start humping himself against your hand

“Fuck angel you are so perfect!” He whispers in your ear

He pulls frantically at your pair of denim shorts, desperately attempting to get them off. It takes a few tugs before he figures out he needed to undo the button but when he does your shorts are off in one quick movement. His middle and index fingers quickly find themselves inside your panties as Peters uses his digits to explore your folds.

“Fuck me, doll. How are you this wet, I have barely even touched you”

You manage to help his cock escape its confinement you were shocked at the size. How was he hiding this thing under his Spider-Man suit? Before you could ask him the question yourself, he's picked you up. Instinctively you wrap your legs around his waist as his fingers dig into your thighs.

“Are you sure that you want this?” He asks as he lines up his tip with your entrance. You nod.

“Words, darling.”

“Please, Peter!” You practically beg

With that, he does a singular powerful thrust into you making sure that his entire shaft entire you on the first time. After a few seconds to make sure that you’ve adjusted to his size he begins to thrust at a fast pace. Your brain is scrambled all you can let out is a set of incoherent moans.

He moves one of his arms to the small of your back to make sure you are steady as his lips meet yours again and you start a hungry kiss. His lips interlock yours perfectly, he's a pro at this which makes up for your lack of experience.

Each of his thrusts is more powerful than the last. This man is fucking you like there's no tomorrow. He's needy too which makes you wonder about his current bedroom life. I mean if you were MJ you would never leave your martial bed. He lifts you up slightly which changes the game completely as every time his cock enters and leaves, he hits your g spot. You wrap one of your arms around his neck for extra support as you use the other to rub your clit.

After a few minutes of thrusting, you are close to reaching your orgasm, Peter knows this. His spider senses are going crazy. He slows down his movements, making sure to drag out the amount of time his cock spends touching your g-spots with drives you over the edge. You cum almost instantly after he does this. Your walls clench around him getting him closer to reaching his high when the front door opens, It's MJ. Shit!

Peter tightens his hold on you as he ploughs into you with a god-like speed trying to finally get his release. He moves one of his hands over your mouth attempting to quiet down your moans so that MJ won't hear. You listen closely as you hear her taking off her shoes. His movements are rougher. She enters the lounge and Peter finally cum, moving the hand which was located on the small of your back to the crown on your head as he sets you on the ground. He pets your hair gently as he gives you a quick peck before pulling his pants up and going to greet/distract his wife, giving you enough time to make yourself look presentable and to pretend to be preoccupied with something.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker #into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #atsv smut #atsv fic #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #peter parker #mayday parker #peter x mj

876 notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 8 months

Note

Ask game: 39, 39, 39, 39, oh and also 39

Blease give me more of your writing your brain weirdness is extremely satisfying to my brain weirdness in a way that few others understand or can replicate

Immediately after the battle with Aizen, in what's left of Fake Karakura:

Something neon pink appeared at Shinji's elbow At Speed and he startled, yelping loudly and having to fight the reflex to kick what appeared to be a small girl.

"HeyifyouseemydadIwaswiththefallbacktimethewholetimeokay?" She spoke at a speed Shinji had only ever heard from a dangerously overcaffienated Mashiro before.

"I'm not lying for you, Kusajishi." sighed Kuchiki.

"YACHIRU!" someone bellowed loud enough to make the few unbroken windows ring, and Shinji turned to the sound of Ominous Jingling to see a giant of a man with a peculiar vertical hairstyle and a captain's Haori approaching, livid.

"Shit." She muttered, turning to grin sheepishly at her father as he stomped over, expression dark and a tiny, teal-haired toddler on his hip.

"Where were you supposed to be today?" The Giant growled down at Yachiru, and Kuchiki excused himself to sit down on a nearby piece of bench-height rubble.

"...You told me to stay with the fallback team in Seireitei." She sighed.

"So why are you here?" the giant growled.

"BECAUSE YOU'VE BEEN WEIRD ALL MONTH AND IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU IN LAS NOCHES I'D NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF!" She shouted, reflexive foot-stomp blasting out a wave of enraged reiatsu.

"So, uh, who're Pinky and Punky here?" Shinji asked, limping over to sit down to watch next to Kuchiki.

"Eleventh Division Captain Zaraki Kenpachi and his daughter, Yachiru Kusajishi." Kuchiki nodded. "They're loud, but honorable and reliable."

"I'VE BEEN WEIRD ALL MONTH BECAUSE- Shit, it's- Its complicated, okay?" Kenpachi groaned.

"And the other girl?" Shinji asked.

"I believe Kurosaki said her name was 'Nel' or similar." Kuchiki nodded. "Not entirely sure why Zaraki is the one carrying her around but it's nothing to worry about. He's great with kids."

"SINCE WHEN HAS 'COMPLICATED' BEEN A REASON TO HIDE STUFF FROM ME?" Yachiru demanded, bristling at him.

"Great with kids, huh?" Shinji glanced over at Kuchiki.

"-BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON EITHER UNTIL ABOUT TWO HOURS AGO! WHAT IF SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED TO YOU, HUH? IT'S *MY* JOB TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND DAMMIT!"

"Oh, nevermind, I see what you mean." Shinji nodded and there was the barest hint of a smirk on Kuchiki's face.

Yachiru sniffled, tearing up with rage. "WHAT? I'M NOT ALLOWED TO WORRY ABOUT YOU!?"

"YOU CAN WORRY ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU CAN'T RISK YOUR HIDE FOR MY SAKE, THAT'S NOT HOW IT FUCKING WORKS-!" he roared, jabbing his finger at Yachiru.

"Can I have a juice?" the teal-haired toddler asked from Zaraki's hip.

"-In a minute Yachiru, I need to-" Kenpachi started and stopped. He blinked a few times, then slowly turned to frown at Nel, then at Yachiru, then back at Nel, pointing between the two girls and expression shifting from rage to utter confusion.

"Did you see another abandoned baby and just pick it up because it was Yachiru-shaped and Neon Colored?" Kuchiki called, teasing.

Kenpachi looked up at him, bewildered "MAYBE??" and Yachiru rolled her eyes behind him.

"That’s the most 'Raised By Birds' thing you’ve done in a while." Kuchiki laughed, getting up to peer down at Nel with curiosity.

"Raised by WHAT?" Shinji asked, jogging up after him.

Kenpachi Stood up straight, shaking his shoulders like he was ruffling feathers. "One, I’m not putting her back, two, who the fuck are these assholes?" He asked, gesturing at Shinji and the other Visored who had started to gather in the rubble to catch their breath after the battle.

"Remember how half the captains had fallen in battle or otherwise vanished before you showed up?" Byakuya asked.

"No, because I wasn’t there." Huffed Kenpachi, rifling through his Kosode and producing a Juice Box for Nel. "-but I remember Ikkaku complaining about the employee turnover."

"-AND I WAS RIGHT!" Ikkaku bellowed from his stretcher behind them, too injured to stand but not about to stop fighting, as expected of someone wearing the 11th Division's lieutenant insignia.

"YOU'RE STILL IN DEEP SHIT FOR THAT BANKAI THING, CUEBALL." Zaraki holled back at his lieutenant, who only turned his head away, sulking.

"Apparently the assorted missing officers weren’t dead, they just caught an artificially induced case of hollowfication from Aizen, but managed to survive and stayed out here in the living world to recover and learn to control their abilities out of sight from him." Kuchiki explained. Beside them, meaningful eye contact was exchanged between father and daughter, and he gave her a juice box as well. "Tactical." Zaraki nodded approvingly. "Also, non-zero chance The Old Man would have killed y'all on sight."

"Er. Yeah." Shinji winced, looking over his shoulder to where a surprisingly non-apocalyptic-looking Captain-General was discussing something with Unohana.

"This man specifically is is Hirako Shinji, Aizen’s former boss." Kuchiki continued, introducing them properly. "Captain Hirako, Captain Zaraki."

"Hiya!" Shinji grinned, holding out a hand for Zaraki to shake, but instead, he too was handed a juice box.

Kenpachi eyed Shinji in a not precisely hostile but still unnerving manner, as he offered Kuchiki a juice box as well and when turned down, opened it for himself and drank, studying him.

"…This explains six or seven things." Zaraki finally spoke, nodding sagely.

Shinji glared up at the giant. "Excuse me?"

Kuchiki waved a hand between Shinji and Zaraki. "I promise, it’s technically a compliment."

"Yeah, if Ken-chan didn't like you, you wouldn't have a head right now." Yachiru giggled.

"Mostly explains the two sets of teaspoons in the 5th division break room." Zaraki nodded, holding his hands out to his sides. "You're, whatsit- tiger-tiger thing?"

"Huh?" Puzzled Shinji.

"Symmetry?" Tried Kuchiki. "I do recall Captain Hirako having immense talent with mirroring and reversing text and other things."

"That's the bitch!" Zaraki grinned. "Not a bad idea though, you always have enough spoons."

"Huh. I guess so?" Shinji pondered, eyeballing Zaraki in turn. "Kenpachi, so you're captain of the 11th? If I remember correctly, Kiganjo was the tenth Kenpachi- so how many Kenpachis did we run through while I was away?"

"Just him for the last century. Only the two serious challenges to his post." Kuchiki explained, looking almost... proud? There were strange political currents swirling here, leaving Shinji feeling adrift.

"For real?" Shinji asked with genuine admiration. Outside of statistical outliers like Unohana and The Old Man, it was rare for a captain to hold their post for more than two centuries, and the average in the 11th more like 60 years.

Kenpachi waved his hand noncommitally. "One and a half. Tetsuzaimon Iba was really challenging his Mother by proxy." he corrected, head tilting with a jingle and Shinji realized the vertiginous hairstyle was there to support a dozen or so small bells, before the rest of the sentence caught up with him.

"Tetsuzaimon?" Shinji blinked. "Wasn't that what Chikane Iba was going to call her son?

"Yah." Zaraki nodded, sounding like a sleigh full of presents.

Shinji stared blankly. "But- but- She was still pregnant when I.. left? He’s an infant!

"Nah, Lieutenant Iba's a whole-ass man now." Zaraki looked over his shoulder. "Ay Iba-" he called to a robust man with sunglasses wearing the 7th Division's lieutenant's badge, currently engaged in picking up Ikkaku and moving him out of the way for the 4th division triage. "-How come you're spotless when my vice looks like someone fucked up at the abattoir?"

"Hi Captain Zaraki!" Iba waved back, , Ikkaku slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "It's because he's a fucking idiot, sir!"

"FUCK YOU!" Ikkaku shrieked, flipping them off from where he hung awkwardly over his friend's shoulder.

"FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" Zaraki bellowed back.

Shinji watched the spectacle with wide eyes, slowly coming to an unpleasant realization, before slowly putting a hand on Kuchiki’s shoulder. "…Sojun." He sighed, using his colleauges given name with heavy morose. "I’m afraid we may be Old Men now."

Kuchiki turned and blinked at him, confused. "I’m Byakuya."

It was Shinji's turn to stare in confusion. "...Kuchiki Byakuya isn't even in the Academy yet?"

"No, I'm a captain now. Sojun, my father, died shortly after your disappearance." Apparently-Byakuya explained, arching a concerned eyebrow down at him.

"Fucking what." Shinji said flatly, feeling like he'd been drained of all color and redrawn with a sharpie by someone's off-hand.

"HAH!" Barked Zaraki. "Yer Old Fart, Tiger."

Byakuya scoffed up at Zaraki. "What’s that make you then?"

"An Ancient and Revered Relic, thank you." Kenpachi said, puffing up his chest in mock-pride.

"What's going on?" Nel asked Yachiru in a loud whisper.

"Bowlcut here is an old fart who is just now realizing that he's an old fart, but he’s younger than me, so he’s also a baby." Yachiru explained. "Either way, impressive bowel control for his age!"

"HEY!" Yelped Shinji.

"Drink ya Battle Victory juice, Tiger." Zaraki said, giving Shinji a consoling pat on the shoulder.

"...It's a bitter Juicy Juice I drink this day." Shinji sighed, disconsolately stabbing the box with the straw and drinking with despair.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #fanfic writer ask game #zaraki kenpachi #shinji hirako #byakuya kuchiki #yachiru kusajishi #nelliel tu odelschwanck #long post #it's funny under the cut I promise #I love subjecting shinji to conversations that are like being hit with multiple baseball bats repeatedly

401 notes · View notes

estrellami-1 · 5 months

Text

If I Should Stay

More housekeeping! I was wrong about the date last time. My hiatus isn’t starting on the 15th; it’s starting on the 13th, possibly a bit earlier. But I’ll see y’all a little less than a month after that!

Part 1 | . . . | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40

“Vecna’s got my sister,” Steve whispers into the line, and Robin knows immediately that this time, this next fight with Vecna, is going to be very different.

She’s not going to let two of his atoms touch after what he’s done.

“Okay,” she answers, mind going a million miles an hour. “We know how to fix this, Steve, but you need to focus. Can you focus?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I can focus.”

“Okay. We need her favorite song.”

“I don’t know her favorite song.”

“Then you need to find someone who does.”

The line is silent for a minute, then Steve gasps. “Cassidy! She’d know.”

“Okay, that’s perfect. Call Cassidy, ask her what Allison’s favorite song is. I’m going to pick up El and we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Hurry?”

“As fast as I can,” she promises. “Call Cassidy.”

They hang up, and Robin eyes Wayne, who’s already waiting by the door with his truck keys. “I’m gathering this is an emergency.”

“If it wouldn’t be entirely weird, I would kiss you,” Robin informs him, because she barely has a filter at the best of times, and this is definitely not the best of times.

Thankfully, Wayne just laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “Toss your bike in the back and get in. I’ll need directions.”

Robin worries her lip. “Y’know the Wheelers’ place?”

“Karen?”

“Yeah. There first, please.”

Wayne offers her a teasing salute as he puts the car into drive, and Robin suddenly thinks this all might just work out.

The drive to the Wheelers’ is uneventful, and she hops out of the truck and pounds on the door. Karen opens it, and Robin grits her teeth. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler,” she says politely. “Is Nancy home?”

“Oh, yes, of course, come in,” she says, ushering her inside before calling for Nancy.

Robin watches as Nancy makes it halfway downstairs before she sees who’s here. She watches as she goes through all the possibilities. “Hey, Robin, you’re here for the project, right?”

“Yup,” Robin nods. “For, uh. School.”

Nancy blinks. “Right,” she says, casting a glance at her mom, who doesn’t notice. “C’mon up.”

Robin hesitates. “Think we could use the basement?”

Nancy’s eyes flash. “Sure,” she says, and they’re halfway down before she speaks again. “What’s going on?”

“Vecna has Allison. We need El.”

Nancy bites back a curse.

They finally make it down, and El is standing in the middle of the room, waiting for them. “It is time.”

“It is,” Robin nods. “Are you ready?”

Eleven shrugs. “Is anyone?”

Robin gives half a laugh. “I guess not.” She turns to Nancy. “Is there an exit that doesn’t go through the house?”

Nancy nods and leads them out. “I’ll get everyone else,” she says. “Meet you back there as soon as we can. Be safe.”

“You too,” Robin says, grabbing El’s hand and running for Wayne’s truck.

“Where to?” Wayne asks.

“The Harrington place. Will you come inside?”

“All due respect, Robin, but my boy’s in there. There ain’t no way in hell I’m leavin’ him alone.” There’s a slight pause before he says, rather uncomfortably, “Not because I don’t trust you, of course-”

“No, of course not,” Robin waves him off.

“And, uh.” He winks at El. “You’ll have to pardon my French, little lady.”

She giggles at him. “But you weren’t speaking any French!”

Wayne chuckles. “No I wasn’t, and a smart one you are for knowin’ that. No, pardon my French just means excuse my potty mouth.”

El turns to Robin, who says, deadpan, “He means ‘cause he said hell.”

“Oh,” El says, as Wayne splutters but ultimately stays quiet.

Soon enough they’re at the Harrington place, and Wayne barely parks the truck before they’re all running in.

Robin stops him just before they get inside. “Did Eddie explain any of this to you?”

Wayne blinks at her. “No.”

“Shit,” she whispers. “Okay, look, long story short, which I’m kinda really terrible at, like worst person ever, like I can’t tell a short story to save my life-”

“Robin.”

“Right, short story, right. Um, we’ll explain more later, but basically me and Steve are time traveling here from four years in the future because there’s a wizard guy- well he’s not a wizard, actually, it’s Henry Creel, but anyways things happen and he’s got powers and he’s like a wizard and he’s trying to get control of peoples’ heads and kill them. And he’s trying it with Steve’s sister, Allison, right now. So… that’s what we’re about to walk into.”

Wayne sighs. “Is there anythin’ for me to shoot at?”

Robin blinks. “Well, no. Not right now, at least. But later there could be. If you want to be involved.”

“I ain’t lettin’ y’all do this while I sit by and do nothin’. That ain’t how I was raised.”

Robin stares at him for a beat, nods, and together they run inside.

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

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

167 notes · View notes

fanficfanattic · 5 months

Text

Just watched the Wembley confrontation approximately 30 times so I could write down the exact dialogue. And to get more of the body language and gestures down. The scene lasts for precisely two minutes. (37:07-39:07)

James pokes his head into the room asking, “Are you decent?” Laughs as he crosses the doorway.

James walks past the security guard to enter the room, puts his thumb to his nose, before saying to the guard, “I told ya” and then to himself, “prick.” Laughs.

James is only a bit into the room before he says to the room, “Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen.” He throws his arms wide and mockingly groans before laughing again.

James is now fully into the center of the room and turns a bit to try and address all of the team. Says “Hey, it’s a tough one lads. It’s a tough one, but no shame to it.”

“Cause, you know, we only ever” pretends to tap his temple like he’s trying to remember something: “beat,” does a few feet bounces and fake little punches, “uh, everybody we play.” Laughs again.

James turns to Lasso who does the quickest fake Midwestern polite smile while Roy stands next to him stiff and angry. Will is looking over his shoulder, between the two coaches, stocking or taking out bottles from a mini fridge maybe?

“So you pups had no chance,” while once again spreading his arms. He finally looks right at Jamie and lets out a fake gasp before saying “Oh.” As though he is disappointed to see Jamie is actually standing there.

He points double finger guns at him while adding, “And there he is, my son.”

Says “My own flesh and blood” with mock grief in his voice. He stares at Jamie from half a room away, and bounces on his feet again.

“Poor Jamie, my son.”

He rocks his hips loose even as he brings his pointer finger to his nose. Does an exaggerated sniff. Then he goes back to addressing the room at large. Faces one way as he starts to talk.

“Now,” and he gestures with his right hand, then turns to take in the other side, “maybe I’m thinking his heart’s still in Manchester” and he gestures with both hands slightly towards his own chest “and that’s why he missed that sitter in the first half.” He points a finger into the air like he’s having a eureka moment.

Chuckles. Does another of his fake sympathetic groans.

“Oh ho ho.” And then lets out a little “Whew!”

Then starts tiny jogging towards Jamie while sing songing “You absolutely bottled* it.” He stops to throw his head back, arms wide, and then straightens up to slow walk closer. He laughs while saying, “You bottled it!”

Then he’s only a few steps away from Jamie and starts pantomiming some boxing moves. Ducks just a bit, has his hands in fists doing small jabs. “What were you thinking?”

Then he is right at Jamie and continues to do the small jabs, not hard, but landing like small pokes right against Jamie’s stomach. Jamie ever so slightly steps back. James pauses for half a second and then does an extra jab pushing Jamie another half step back.

James lets out a teasing “Ah ah ah.” Then “I’m only kidding, hey.” Before laughing again with a bit of a cough in the middle.

Ted does not look impressed and Roy has titled his head back a bit to squint at the man. Will is focusing on the mini fridge until James starts talking again. This time more quietly and just to Jamie.

“Hey, look, uhh…do us a favor…” and he comes back on screen as he moves his hand from his face, while sniffing, but like he’d just gestured Jamie closer or perhaps had gestured to his ear to indicate Jamie should listen to him. He continues “and get Denbo and Bug past security.”

James moves his right arm to indicate the stadium on the other side of the wall. “They wanna go on the pitch-” then he mimes raising a camera and clicking it. Jamie’s mouth turns down into a frown while his head gives the smallest shake. “-take a few snaps and all that, yeah?” Before licking his lips, letting out another sniff, and bouncing on his feet 2-3 times.

Jamie finally says something, which is to answer his dad with “I’d rather ‘em not.” He stares a hair over his father’s shoulder, not making eye contact with anyone.

James looks a bit to the side, not in embarrassment nor seemingly worried what people were thinking about his son turning his request down. More like he didn’t actually need to look at Jamie anymore.

“Yeah, they only want to look around.” And he looks back to Jamie again but it’s because he’s miming a guy jab with his left hand while saying “It’ll only take a second.” Then mimes punching him right in the jaw with a weird sound effect noise. “Doosh(?).”

James mouth drops open into a wide grin and chuckle.

Jamie repeats himself word for word, “I’d rather ‘em not.” But he is slightly louder this time and looks right at his father. He nods his head ever so slightly.

Offscreen James responds with, “What?” Then focuses on his face returning to mockery.

“What, you’re not gonna all go moody little bitch” while looking Jamie up and down, continuing, “just cause you got your arse served to you on a plate, are ya?”

Jamie is quieter again when he responds with “Don’t speak to me like that.” Jamie is back to not meeting his dad’s eye even as James starts bouncing on the balls of his feet again.

Then he pushes a little closer in to Jamie, face seemingly open to hearing what Jamie has to say, before going “ahuh?”

Jamie repeats himself word for word for the second time. “Don’t speak to me like that.”

James repeats his “Huh?” while pressing closer again, head tilted as though to hear him better. Jamie tries to repeat himself for a third time but his dad interrupts with his own third “huh?”

When Jamie finishes, his dad says “Huh?” a fourth time and then pulls back a minuscule amount to look Jamie in the eye.

James says to him “Okay, well,” and James lifts his right hand to flick up in the air. “-let’s see if you can hear this, hmm?”

Beard is shown in the background seething. James is still right in Jamie’s face, where he sniffs again, before leaning a bit closer as though to whisper.

“You know that ‘ickle tv show’ you made?” And makes broad gestured quotation marks even. “You just made it easier for Manchester City” He flicks the first finger of his left hand up like he’s about to count off things but instead uses it to point at Jamie while adding “to kick you to the curb!”

Then he leans back with a grin to continue mocking Jamie. He even adds a tongue waggle of his own.

“And look where you are now.” He laughs in his face. “Twaddling about with a bunch of…”

He spreads his arms wide and spins 180° to address the whole room. “…amateurs! No offense, no offense.”

No one responds to him, so he gives more of a belly laugh, and scratches the side of his nose with his right forefinger. Then turns around, leading with that finger pointing at Jamie. Who is not only not looking his father in the eye, he’s truly looking downwards for the first time.

Then he flattens his mouth and starts to turn away with his dad going “Huh?”

James grabs Jamie’s left bicep with his own left hand, to swing him back to face him yelling “Don’t turn your back on me” then pushing Jamie while finishing with “you pussy.”

Jamie pushes off from the foot he’d stepped back from his dad with to throw his punch.

James hits the floor, palms stopping his fall, with a groan. He pushes half up onto his hip and puts the back of his hand to his face.

Jamie’s face is in a pained grimace.

He pants out “Jesus god” while glaring venomously up at his son. Which must be when he notices that Jamie is wild eyed and terrified. The grimace is gone and instead he looks stunned.

James laughs before pushing himself up to standing, Jamie’s mouth parts while his dad is saying “Oh, yeah. Okay.”

Once standing, James says “You can have that one for free.” And gets one bounce in while readying his own fist.

Which is when Beard grabs him and says “Time to go.”

While being dragged towards the door, James is still trying to fight Jamie. “You wanna go, big time. Hey? Let’s have it, Jamie!”

Beard almost has him to the door when James screams “Don’t you forget where you came from!” Then Beard gives his “watch the door” warning while pushing James’ head against the door.

Edit 2: @kaph123 asked if James said “balled it” (what cc says and I originally posted despite some questions) or “bottled it” (a more common expression). I did a relisten and it sounded like balled BUT also like the accent might be in play. @itsjustpoopeh listened with better headphones and revealed there was a bit of a stutter which indicates its most likely Mancunian consonant dropping and should be bottled. I changed it above!

Edited to add the comfort we all needed at the reminder of our tender human hearts from @thetarttfuldickhead 🤣

#jamie tartt #james tartt sr #james loosens his hips to prepare to fight the same way jamie does to prepare to train #thanks i hate it #ted lasso #roy kent #coach beard #willis beard #will kitman #abuse of an adult child #child abuse #verbal abuse #self defense #trauma

176 notes · View notes

sillygayrants · 3 months

Text

Eddie came into family video everyday to talk to Robin. It was a regular occurrence. It started off every week or so, and then every couple of days, and now he was bringing her lunch. Every. Single. Day. Steve thought this was unacceptable.

Now he knew that Robin was his best friend, and she was allowed to like other people just fine, but there was something about Eddie that itched under his skin, like a bad rash he couldn’t get rid of, or a heat pooling at the pit of his stomach.

He would walk into the store everyday at 1:30 on the dot, not a minute earlier or later, with a brown bag that said “Robin, my love” or “my beautiful wife”, or something just as stupid, and he always passed it to Robin with a big, stupid, idiotic smile on his face and she would always give him a little peck on the check as a thank you.

He would lean over and rest his stupid forearms on the desktop, showing off his stupid tattoos and all his stupid rings and bracelets. The latter clanging around while he made extravagant movements to match extravagant stories.

Sometimes he would play with his hair, or twiddle with a necklace, or run his fingers up and down his forearm. Steve was starting to realise he paid a lot more attention to Eddie than to, well, anything else.

Everything had been normal, up until the day it was 1:39, and Eddie hadn’t shown up.

Steve wasn’t worried, he refused to be, he just sat there at the cash register and thought about whatever it is he usually thought about that didn’t include Eddie, which he found wasn’t a lot.

So of course, he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when the sound of jangling bracelets and big platform boots came tumbling through the door.

Steve looked up, expecting the usual sight of big brown eyes staring towards Robin, waiting to tell her his most recent adventure, and instead found those eyes on a a beeline straight for him, and arms holding two large paper bags.

Eddie dumped one of the bags right on the counter in front of Steve, who strained his eyes to read the “stevie, baby” written on the side of the bag, with a little cartoon heart next to it.

“I never see you eat lunch.”

Steve realised he hadn’t said anything for at least 30 seconds before he head Eddie say that. He looked up at him. “What?”

“I’m in here everyday, at lunch time, and you never eat, just sit there. I’ve been coming here for 3 months for godsake, how have you not withered away, turned to stone and dust.” That last bit was accompanied by flailing arms.

Steve was in shock, his mouth felt too dry to speak and his belly was doing that stupid thing it did whenever Eddie showed up, but this time 10 times fast.

“Eddie,” he finally managed to get out, “my lunch break is at 12, I’ve, uh, already eaten.”

Big doe eyes widened impossibly further “oh.”

There was a weird silence, one that shouldn’t be weird. If it were any other one of his friends he would’ve laughed it off by now or simply just taken and eaten the food, but then again, none of his other friends were Eddie.

“I’ll just put it back in the fridge at home, it’ll be leftovers for me” Eddie said and hands reached out to pick the bag right back up before Steve’s hand was on his forarm, and he took the bag right back.

“Is that chicken? I can smell chicken.”

“Yeah it’s a chicken sandwich, I made it with mayo and there’s some salad on the side if you wanted it”

Steve stared up at Eddie again, who was now playing with his hair.

“You made it?” Steve’s mouth felt dry.

Eddie just nodded, and watched Steve reach into the bag and pull out the food, talking a bite out of the sandwich and humming approvingly.

“It’s really good, thanks man. You did a perfect job on the chicken to mayo ratio, like PERFECT”

Eddies cheeks dusted pink and he was now making little plaiting motions in his hair.

Steve wasn’t sure when the little thing his belly did when Eddie was around had become a comfortable warmth spread throughout his body, something almost easing, or soothing might be the word for it. Whatever it was, Steve liked it.

They just stared at eachother, an unspoken pact or, something, that this was nice, that they could get used to this.

Until there was a voice to the left of Steve speaking up, “I’d like my food now dickwad”

(P.s GUYS IM SORRY IF THE END IS RUSHED I LOWK DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT PLEASE TELL ME OR REPOST AND GIVE TIPS. Anyway this started off as a completely different plot line and I completely spiralled off so now I need to go write something about that 😖😖)

#eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie ficlet

91 notes · View notes

redvelvet103 · 2 months

Text

Gloom Division is 39 minutes and 21 seconds of banger after banger and all my irl friends think I'll get sick of it listening to it all the fucking time but nuh uh my little buddies Dallon Weekes knows how to cook up the funky fresh never boring vibes

#i love this album in a way i cant describe #random shit by red #gloom division #idkhbtfm #idkhow #i dont know how but they found me

54 notes · View notes

readerthatreadsss · 2 years

Text

Flipping The Script~(TASM! Peter Parker)

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker X Fem! reader

Summary: You’ve been in a relationship with Peter for a while, and throughout that time, you’ve always been the more dominant one in the bedroom. But, one night, Peter comes up with a few interesting ideas. And with that sloppy grin on his face, you couldn’t help but give in and hand over the reigns for a night.

Warning: 18+ FILTHY SMUT, unprotected sex (remember to wrap your willy before you fuck her silly), rough sex, swearing, basically porn with a splash of plot, light spanking, hair pulling, choking (barely), throat fucking, oral (m and r recieving), face fucking, face riding, dom!Peter (kinda), sub!reader (kinda), creampie, praise kink, Pet names (only pretty girl, pretty boy, sweetheart, and baby), small bit of fluff at the end.

Word count: 3k+

A/N: Hello! This is my first official post, just to give you guys an idea of what my writing’s like since im not really used to the writing style on here cause I’ve been writing on Wattpad for the past few years. So please let me know how I did. Hope you enjoy it cause it honestly turned out better than I expected it to. I will also be taking requests from now on! (Check my pinned post to see which characters i take requests for)

DO NOT COPY MY WORK! AND MINORS DNI!

It was a normal Saturday night. Peter had just finished patrolling and you just got home from work.

After showering and changing into more comfortable clothes, you and Peter were cuddled up in bed, light kisses passing between you occasionally...until Peter briefly zoned out.

Spotting the dazed look in his brown eyes, you lightly tapped his cheeks with your hands. “Pete?” you called out, effectively snapping him out of his daze.

“Yeah?” he mumbled, turning his head down to look at you.

“You kinda left for a minute there. What’s on your mind?” you cooed as your fingers continued to caress his clean shaven cheeks.

“Nothing...I, uh, I kinda had an idea?” he answered.

You raised a brow in intrigue as a small smile crossed your features. “An idea? What kind of an idea?” you questioned as you allowed one of your hands to slowly trail down his neck and naked chest.

“I think you- ahem- know what kind of idea,” Peter said, his ears growing red from the way your fingers were touching his abdomen.

Being spiderman meant that Peter’s senses were on high alert 24/7, which meant that every brush of your fingertips drove him crazy. It’s one of the reasons why you love touching him so much. And possibly why he always let you.

“Hmm, sounds interesting,” you chirped.

His lips slipped into a smile as he shuffled closer to you and wrapped both his hands around your waist. “Pick a number between 1 and 40,″ he said.

Your brows furrowed in confusion from the unusual demand. “That doesn't sound very sexy if I’m being quite honest, Pete,” you giggled.

He rolled his eyes as his fingers slipped under your t-shirt and crawled up your sides, leaving a burning trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Please? For me?” he pleaded as he presented that charming full teeth grin of his, knowing that it would soften you up.

You sighed dramatically, staring into his beautifully brown eyes. “Fine,” you gave in, “Ummm...how about...39?”

You watched as Peter pursed his lips briefly in thought.

Before you could utter another syllable, you felt Peter tighten his grip on your sides before flipping you onto your stomach, gaining a surprised yelp from your lips. As you tried to get used to the abrupt change in position, you felt Peter grip a heap of your hair before pulling on it roughly. You panted as he held your back tightly against his chest, still maintaining his grip on your hair.

You couldn't stop the moan that befell your lips as he used one hand to rip your shirt from your chest, leaving your breasts available to him.

You were never the submissive type, but Peter’s sudden change in attitude already had your panties soaking, which you were sure he could smell.

“You okay, pretty girl?” he whispered, his cool breath fanning against your ears.

Chills ran down your spine from the nickname. You nodded confidently regardless of the foreign blush that had found its way onto your cheeks. “I am so much fucking better than okay,” you spoke, slowly grinding your lower half against the growing bulge in Peter’s sweatpants.

He caught onto your movements and abruptly put a stop to it by gripping your waist with his free hand. “You’re gonna count for me,” he began, temporarily releasing your hair to most likely undress himself.

“Count what?” you cluelessly asked.

The harsh ripping sound of your pajama shorts and panties was the next sound you heard before feeling Peter harshly thrust into you, his thick cock sending a wave of pleasure and delicious pain through you at the same time.

“Holy fuck!” you moaned at the sudden intrusion, feeling your boyfriend bottom out inside of you.

His hands came to wrap around your neck as he roughly pulled you up against his bare chest. “What did I say? I want you to use those pretty fucking lips and count for me,” he demanded before shoving your head down into the mattress.

Peter fully pulled out of you before shoving his dick back inside of your dripping pussy.

“One,” you choked out, swallowing back a scream.

He pulled out of you and slammed back in, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing in your shared bedroom.

“Two,” you moaned.

Seeing that you were getting the idea of his game, Peter decided to pick up the pace.

He quickly found an angle that worked for him and repeatedly slammed into you, pressing your head into your sheets. “Three, four, five, si- FUCK!” you eventually gave up counting when Peter hit a specific spot in your cervix. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

But your words soon stopped short when Peter fully pulled his cock out of you. Before you could turn and ask what the hell he was doing, you felt a stinging on your ass as a loud slap resounded in the air.

Peter Parker, the same man that has called you mommy on numerous occasions, spanked you...and you fucking loved it.

He grabbed each of your ankles and flipped you onto your back, his advanced strength coming in very handy. “I didn’t say you could stop counting,” he huskily whispered as he hovered over you, his very erect cock prodding your stomach.

Peter soon lined up his cock with your entrance and thrust himself into your tight cunt again, not yet moving inside your warmth. “You will count every thrust and if you stop counting or cum before we get to 39, then I will punish you,” while he spoke, Peter looked into your eyes and searched for any hint of apprehension. He only found lust, excitement, and love, telling him that you were more than okay with what he was doing.

Your eyes sparkled at the mention of punishment. “What are you gonna do to me?” you smirked, “Spank me?”

Peter grabbed each of your wrists and pressed them against the headboard of your bed. “No, I'm gonna hold you against this headboard and fuck those pretty lips with my cock until you’re a drooling, slobbering mess.”

Your thighs involuntarily clenched at his words. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby,” you cooed as you leaned up and pressed a sloppy kiss against his lips.

You could tell from his pursed swollen lips and his dilated eyes that your stolen kiss had him nearly ready to submit to you again, but he quickly grabbed a hold of himself and focused back on the task at hand.

Peter slowly removed his cock from your pussy, erupting a whine from your chest, only to flip you back onto your stomach with Peter taking up his previous position inside of you.

“Peter!” you loudly moaned, not caring who heard.

One of his large hands pulled you up to your knees, while the other came around your chest and squeezed one of your breasts. “Lemme hear you count, baby.”

“FUCK- seven!” you moaned in a strangled tone, your walls clenching around Peter’s familiar length.

Within seconds, his hands had found their way back to your hair again and he grabbed as much as he could in his large fists. Peter continued to roughly thrust in and out of you, and you continued to count, slurring your words more and more with each thrust. The feel of Peter pounding inside of you and the sting of his grip on your hair was nearly becoming overwhelming. There was no way you were gonna last much longer.

You were now at 21 and you could feel the need for release rising in your stomach. “Twenty tw-Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you yelled, tears springing from the corners of your eyes from the force Peter was using to fuck you.

He then reached around one hand and pressed it against your soaking clit, gaining a scream of pleasure from you in the middle of your counting. “You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he lowly groaned in your ears.

Peter picked up his pace, as you struggled to keep up your counting while keeping a hold on your impending orgasm.

“Keep taking my fucking cock, pretty girl, you’re doing so good,” he praised you, slowly rubbing his fingers against your aching clit.

The sounds of his hips slapping against your ass grew louder than you thought was possible, and every single movement inside of you, lit your nerves on fire.

“Fuck, Peter, I’m gonna-”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” he grunted, still maintaining a cadence inside of you.

But his warning came too late, as you were soon overwhelmed by the combination of Peter’s large cock pressing against the most sensitive areas of your cunt and his fingers expertly prodding your clit. You cried out as the tight cord inside of your stomach snapped and you felt your juices leaking all over Peter’s cock.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned, shaking from your orgasm as Peter pulled out of you.

You had no time to recover before feeling yourself be spun onto your back. Your chest heaved as you remembered what Peter had promised you in return for your disobedience.

God, you had never been more excited.

You slowly backed up against the headboard, smirking as Peter crawled further onto the bed. You crossed your wrists against the wooden board as Peter positioned one knee on each side of your head. You gulped in anticipation as his hard cock stood at attention before your throbbing lips.

“You did this to yourself,” he smirked grimly.

“We’ll see about that,” you challenged him.

Having enough of your mouthing off, Peter used one hand to grip your hair in his fist while using the other to secure your hands against the headboard. “Let’s put that big mouth of yours to good use.”

You stuck out your tongue, awaiting his cock. Peter used his leverage on the back of your head to bring it forward and meet his achingly hard dick. You hummed in satisfaction as the taste of your own juices flooded your taste buds. Your lips soon fully wrapped around the first few inches of Peter’s cock.

And that was all he needed to take things further.

Peter thrusted his large dick further into your mouth, using his grip on your hair to hold you in place. “There you go, baby,” he cooed, sighing in pleasure as his cock invaded your throat.

At that moment you were very thankful for your lack of a gag reflex, as you forced your throat to make room for Peter’s angry thrusts.

He grunted as he felt the head of his dick hit the farthest part of your throat, and held his position for a few seconds. “So this is what peace and quiet sounds like?” he joked.

You groaned around his cock and narrowed your teary eyes up at him, wordlessly objecting to his ill-timed joke.

He looked down and laughed at your face before slowly pulling back and fucking your mouth at a torturous pace, yet again.

You could feel drool leaking from the sides of your mouth as you relaxed your throat and continued to take Peter’s length in your mouth. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, Y/N,” he moaned, his thrusts growing more forceful as you skillfully teased his tip with your tongue.

“Oh fuck yes, baby, just like that,” he urged you as he continued moving your head up and down on his dick. Sweat lined your brow as you could feel the drool from your aching lips falling onto your breasts.

Peter’s thrusts eventually grew sloppy and he reluctantly withdrew his throbbing cock from your hungry lips. He wasn’t ready to cum yet and he definitely wasn’t gonna do it in your mouth when your pussy was ready and waiting.

“What did we learn?” he moved his hand from your hair down to grip your neck.

Your pussy throbbed at the force with which he squeezed your neck. “We learned that this game is fucking incredible,” you spoke, dazed from the ordeal that Peter did on your throat.

“Hmmm,” he momentarily paused in thought, “since you sucked my cock so beautifully, I’m gonna give you a reward,” he smiled, using the hand that previously held down your wrists to wipe the slobber from your cheeks.

You licked your lips clean as you looked up into his brown eyes expectantly.

“You’re gonna ride my face, and then, when I’ve had enough of your delicious pussy, I’m gonna flip you over and fuck my cum into your guts. Deal?” he proposed.

Your jaw slackened at his statement and you eagerly nodded in agreement.

Peter grinned before sliding off you and allowing you to shift in position for him. Your legs shook in anticipation as you began carefully lowering yourself onto Peter’s hungry lips.

His impatience soon rose to the surface as he wrapped each of his arms around your thighs and harshly pulled your soaking cunt down onto his tongue.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you moaned, your eyes sliding closed as euphoria washed over you at the feeling of Peter’s tongue sliding between your wet folds.

You reached down and ran your fingers through his messy brown hair, slowly grinding your pussy against his eager mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that, Peter,” you moaned.

Peter continued devouring your sopping core before using one of his hands to smack your ass. To add fuel to the fire, the brown-eyed young man began moaning his satisfaction into your pussy, the vibrations bringing you closer to release.

“Shit, Pete, I’m gonna cum again,” you shakily told him as you ground yourself against his damp face even harder. Peter soon snaked his arms up and squeezed each of your hardened nipples in between his fingers as his tongue fiddled with your clit.

Your breathing grew ragged as his focus on your sensitive bundle of nerves had you nearing your orgasm for the second time that night. “Fuck yes, Peter, right fucking there baby,” you shouted as you continued running your fingers through his hair in encouragement.

He continued his groaning beneath you, using the vibrations of his voice to drive you crazier and crazier as he gripped your thigh harshly enough to leave bruises. It wasn’t long before-

“Oh my- Fuck! Peter I’m cumming!”

You moaned loudly as your orgasm left you shaking above Peter’s still-active mouth. The young man continued lapping at your cunt, prolonging your orgasm as he soaked up every drop of you that he could.

He eventually ceased his slaughter on your pussy. “Damn, Pete,” you sighed in satisfaction.

As you slid off of your boyfriend’s face, you looked down to see him grinning widely, his face glistening with your slick.

“I think there was one more thing you promised to do to me, sweetheart,” you smirked while sliding off the bed and walking away, “But I think you should come and get me first. Consider it payback.”

You didn't make it past the door of your room before feeling Peter’s hand wrap around your neck from behind. You yelped as he slammed your body against the nearest wall and brutally pressed his lips against yours. You groaned as your senses were flushed with the pleasant taste of yourself again.

Peter reached both his arms underneath your ass and used his strength to hoist your legs around his own waist. You swung your arms around his neck to keep your balance.

“You’re not in charge tonight, sweetheart,” he huskily whispered before shoving his throbbing cock inside of your sensitive pussy.

You screamed at the feel of him inside of you, the remnants of your orgasm still affecting your body.

Peter used one hand to hold you against the wall while using the other to wipe away the few tears that had managed to leak free from your pleasure-filled eyes. “Look at you, crying over my cock. I thought you were tougher than that Y/L/N,” he taunted as he began cruelly fucking you against your shared room wall.

“I am. Now shut up and fuck me harder, Parker,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

Peter smirked down at you before picking up his pace, now fucking you at a speed that could have broken a world record.

You moaned loudly as your pussy began clenching around Peter’s dick, gaining a groan from him.

It wasn't long before his thrusts grew sloppy and his groans grew louder. You placed each of your palms on his reddened face, immediately gaining his attention. You smirked up at him as you could see in his eyes that he was growing closer. “Cum inside of my pussy, pretty boy.”

And that was all it took to push the hero over the edge.

He roughly slammed one of his hands against the wall beside your head as he emptied himself in your cunt. You moaned happily as his liquids flooded your insides.

You couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face as he groaned in release. “You did such a good job, baby.” At your words, Peter smiled and leaned forward to press a small kiss onto your lips.

As you both came down from your respective highs, Peter withdrew his softening cock from your entrance and helped you to stand on your two feet.

“Let’s go clean up,” you grabbed one of his arms and led him to the bathroom connected to your room.

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked behind you, shamelessly staring at your ass as you walked.

“I hope this isn’t the last I get to see of Dominant Peter,” you smiled as you both stepped into your shower.

You leaned forward to turn on the water before feeling a familiar pair of arms snake around your bare waist. “Definitely not,” Peter grinned as he kissed your neck from behind, “Thanks for trusting me.”

“You’re welcome baby. Thanks for sharing that part of yourself with me,” you smiled while turning to face him.

The shower water soon began cascading over both your heads as you leaned up on your toes and lovingly kissed your boyfriend. “I love you, Peter Parker.”

“I love you more, Y/N, Y/L/N.”

You grinned up at the man who you were sure you would spend the rest of your life with. “Not possible.”

~~~~~~

#tasm!spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter parker smut #marvel imagine #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield #bxg #smut #first post #peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter fanfiction #marvel

2K notes · View notes

afreakingdork · 6 months

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 39

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Amazing chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Intercrural Sex, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello (TMNT), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex

Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Warnings Below Cut.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse and kidnapping

Please keep yourself safe.

Static.

Words.

Someone left a radio on.

No.

Sharper than that.

A speaker.

A phone call.

“-I know you ain’t second guessing my scanner!”

“You tell me then! No phone!? Who doesn’t have their phone on them!?”

“I’unno, but it sure as hell ain’t my problem.”

“There has to be something!!!”

“Boy!”

“A microchip! Maybe it’s too small to pick up!?”

“That’s not how it works!!!”

“Just stop trying to explain it to him; I gave up years ago.”

“The hell?! I’ve been working with you fools way too long to just let that go. You were looking right at me when I explained it to you last week!”

“Now…. let’s say… Hypothetically, that I was looking at a particular green that was stuck between someone’s teeth…”

“…”

Cough.

“I’m done. Over. Nada! That’s it! I’m going to unleash Mayhem and let him take you down.”

“What?! May loves me! He would never!”

Squeak.

“See!”

“No, I am not putting you on camera!”

“Uh, Leo…”

“Whatever, fine! Go through your snore sesh again then if you’re so adamant!”

“You-!”

Chirp.

“Fine.”

“Mhm.”

“Next time I see you, I’m slapping you for that tone.”

“Can it not be the face? I had a bruise for like six weeks last time.”

“It’s definitely going to be the face.”

“April!”

“Hush up and listen.”

Groan.

“The scanner connects to the natural energy of the body. It’s mystic! It won’t miss anything; it doesn’t matter how small, organic, inorganic, whatever! Your brainwashed victim isn’t brainwashed, augmented, or anything else. They have nothing hidden on or in them. There’s nothing whatsoever. Now say ‘I’m a dummy’ if you understood.”

“I’m a dummy.”

“It is no longer going to be the face.”

“Thank you! You’re the best!”

“Yeah, I know!”

“Alright… Guess that means we’re going with interrogation.”

“Hey, what’s up with this anyway? You’re being real cagey about a Hypno victim. He doesn’t usually put anything in anyone’s bodies, that’s more like…”

“…”

“No.”

“April.”

“No fucking way, Leo! I’m done. Out. Fuck this. Fuck you! I cannot BELIEVE YOU-!!!”

“I told you.”

“Mikey, not helping! April, please-!”

Click.

“…”

“Why did you put her in that position?”

“You complained, but you sure as hell didn’t stop me.”

“How am I supposed to, Lee? How is anyone supposed to-?”

“Y/N is awake.”

“What?!”

“They’ve been awake.”

“Raph, what!?”

“Since when!?”

There was a creak as someone stood up from an old chair.

“I don’t know if they’re at full yet, but at least a little over a minute.”

“Full what?!”

“They don’t look awake.” The voice came so close that you could feel their breath tickle your face.

They’d eaten something with pesto for lunch.

Launching at them with a snarl, they screamed.

“AH! NO BITING!” Mikey stumbled several feet back with his limbs in the air before he toppled over.

Your body shuddered from the movement as a constriction kept you from getting farther than you would have thought. Vertigo spun waves out from what should have been straighter lines as your head bobbed downward. Swaying without your control, you stared at the ropes tied around your torso. Tongue rolling in your mouth, you tried to complain, but what came out was an odd groan.

“E-easy…” Mikey’s hands turned to usher you from the floor as he crawled upright on his knees. “The spell wears off like waking up from a bad nap.”

Nap?

“Weren’t you working on a fix for that?” Leo’s voice griped.

Where was he?

“This is so wrong…” Raph’s voice added like a gruff beacon.

“So we’ve all heard.” Leo must have whipped toward him because there was a fast swish of some kind. “You won’t shut up about it, in fact! Neither of you will! If you’re so bothered, why don’t you just leave already?”

Mikey was coming closer.

You gave a cotton mouthed warble in fear.

“Because there’s no way I’m leaving this to both of you. Not after Mikey dropped the literal package! Not after you lied, Leo! This is way out of line!!”

Kick.

You had to kick.

When you did nothing happened.

He had said spell.

Was that why?

Straining, you reluctantly broke away from staring down the orange turtle to look down at yourself. Your legs were slightly parted and in line with the legs of a wooden chair. Closing your eyes to sharpen your groggy senses, you put all your effort into feeling your limbs. It came slow, but you caught uneven wraps that indicated your legs were tied. Then with a shuffle, you got your fingers flexed and felt the rough edges of ropes around your wrists. Blinking open with exhaustion similarly tied around your brain, you glimpsed Mikey sitting cross-legged right in front of you.

The horrified squeak that came from your chest was not something you were proud of.

“Mikey, back off!”

“Dude, I’d be scared of you too! Give, Y/N a break, would ya?”

“Huh?” Mikey whipped around with genuine dismay. “What did I do?”

“You almost killed them for one.” Leo walked over with his arms folded.

Blearily, the rest of the room was starting to manifest.

Raph was right behind him. “You knocked ‘em out!”

“Hey!” Mikey clicked his tongue and returned to you with huge puppy dog eyes. “You don’t remember that last part do you?”

Looking down from where you were trying to expand your map, you gave him a deadened glare.

“Oh, you remember…” Mikey grimaced.

Raph appeared as a tower and his hand dipped straight into the back Mikey’s beige button up. As the smaller turtle’s limbs shot out, his clothes took definition. His top was only buttoned on the last one which created a deep v to show off his decorated plastron and chain necklaces. He was then lifted straight off the ground which allowed his luna pants to drag. Hoisting Mikey high enough to level with him, Raph stared him dully in the eye. “Calm down, would ya?”

Leo gave an approving nod as he took Mikey’s place. “Now then.”

You had a few choice words that felt wet on your lips and gagged to your ears. Brow coming down as you surely had control of your mouth, you wound your jaw to find that the cotton you had been tasting was actual fabric. It tied tightly around your face, digging into your cheeks, and had soaked in a copious amount of drool. You translated your disgust with the sharpest protest you could make.

“Ears.” Leo announced before reaching around you.

You winced until you felt his fingers at the tie. As soon as it came loose you screeched at the top of your lungs. Throat on fire and body wracked of oxygen, you stopped only when black tinted the edge of your vision. It clung like a smoky fog as you panted and flicks of starburst spread out in wayward arches. Recovering enough breath so that you didn’t feel as close to losing consciousness, you lifted your head to find Leo’s palms pressed snug against the sides of his head. Just behind him Raph stood similarly with Mikey opting for fingers to his tympanum.

Slow and ready to put them back if need be, Leo removed his hands. “As someone who’s experienced that spell first hand more times than I can count, you should just about be able to recognize surroundings. Take a look, I’d save my breath if I were you.”

“You’re literally saying ‘try as you might.’” Raph rolled his eyes. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Do I-!?” Leo stomped away to throw a finger into Raph’s face. “Mister ‘You’re making a mockery of the team, Leo’?! All you’ve done is second guess me for months now-!”

Beside them, Mikey watched the pair with his fingers still to his head, looking back and forth as if he couldn’t tell what they were saying.

Over their bickering, you looked beyond as distance rendered in real time. Blinking wide, you found twinkling lights highlighting arches in what was clearly a subway station. All the usual markers of it were cleared away and looked as if they had been for years. Stairs fed on either side and the chosen furniture made it look like a sort of war room. There were several boards erected on one wall with tons of notes and pictures. Across it there were tables and chairs that came in a variety of sizes to appropriately fit whichever occupant. Looking down at your ropes again, your chair in particular seemed to be missing from its ancient dinner table.

“Enough!” Leo roared and you caught him slapping Raph’s hand from his shoulder. “You’ll back me up.” He turned and marched toward you with a quiet spit of, “You always do.”

Raph’s brow creased and his expression read torn. “You don’t give us a choice.”

Mikey unplugged his tympanum and it was the last thing you caught before Leo occupied all your vision. With a fling of his arm he caught the back of the chair and tipped it as he poured over you. “Why’d you pick Raph?”

Beyond him you could hear Raph give a growl of frustration.

“That’s… what you’re upset about?” You sounded breathy.

“I’m mad about a lot of things currently, but yes. I’m kinda miffed about it!”

“Versus…” You shook your head to clear residual clouds from your mind. “… you kidnapping me right away?”

“That wasn’t-!” Leo looked scorned and snapped away.

In doing so your heart shot into your throat as you tipped forward and your chair attempted to get back on all its legs. Thankfully, the clatter only rocked to a halt.

“Careful, man…” Mikey hummed, his voice rounding.

“Look.” Leo responded flatly, making his hand a demonstration where you spied the sunglasses he’d once worn. “If someone would bell his tail like we keep telling him, then the real plan wouldn’t have been busted up so fast.”

“It makes noise every, single, time, I move!”

“That’s the point, Reptar!” Leo rolled his eyes.

If only you could kick.

Leo was in perfect kicking range.

“Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“The plan…” He drifted out before straightening up. There, he blew out a breath and did a half-turn to address the room. “We were enjoying the farmer’s market like everyone else when I heard a distinct ‘Donatello is a villain’ from not too far away.”

Though you were tied up, your arms felt loose.

“I dipped to investigate and saw you and your friend. You telling her all about him.”

“You eavesdropped…”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t exactly remorse on his face, but there were signs that he wished he hadn’t. “It ‘cleared up’ several things for me, but also a few glaring issues.”

Not knowing whether to scream or pale, you sat with parted lips.

“One, that he’s still active and two, that all the people tugging my ear holes had a point.” Leo turned to pointedly look at Raph and Mikey.

He received folded arms and a lolled head, respectively.

“You need to talk to us.” He addressed you. “Clear up what has become an insane misunderstanding.”

Forcing all your weight down, you managed a hop in the chair. “You fucking think!?”

“Yeah…” Leo’s teeth flashed and he leaned away. “Can I keep going?”

“I literally can’t stop you.”

He tried to force a smile, but it downturned along with the lengths of his arms. “Alright, so I took that new info to the guys and we agreed on that much.”

Raph made a noise that said that wasn’t quite right.

Leo didn’t turn, but his pupil darted in that direction. “We were going to snoop around where we were already shopping and see if we could covertly catch your eye for an amicable chat.”

Unable to focus on his stupid face, your gaze drifted up to his bald head.

He’d had a hat at one point.

Probably to cover it up.

“My ideal scenario was like this: me and you bump into each other at the jam stand. You ever try fig mostarda, by the way? Mikey put me onto it recently with chicken and prosciutto and mama mia!” Leo came up and pinched a finger to his thumb.

“It’s all about balancing flavor.” Mikey chirped.

Something about the response knocked Leo back into his point. “We’d meet. I’d recommend the mostarda. We’d try samples and I’d ask if I could borrow you for a talk.”

“And somewhere in there you faked free shit to lure my friends away.”

“I panicked! Raph got caught!!” Leo threw his arms out. “I wrangled Mikey and it was his idea! He’s friends with the jerky lady!”

“We met at a workshop.” Mikey chuckled.

“Then, you clearly felt like you were being ambushed and-!”

Your lids fell so far your eyes almost closed.

“I… turned it into a real ambush.”

Raph’s arms came undone for a hardy flick that said that was what he’d been waiting for.

Suddenly looking mortified, Leo only then seemed to take in the entire scene. “Fuck.”

“Wait, you didn’t realize until just now?” Mikey’s head leaned forward with utter disbelief. “Like right now?”

Leo shot him a guilty look.

Mikey let out a long whistle.

Raph smacked the back of Mikey’s head.

“Hey! What’d I do!?”

“You enabled him!!” Raph held out the same hand to gesture toward Leo. “He was in one of his moods and you went along!”

“For the record, I totally mentioned that earlier.” Leo held a hand over his mouth while talking to you at a normal volume.

“Double hey!” Mikey whipped his head around. “Leo’s plans work out! I was trusting the system!”

“You don’t even trust the regular system!” Raph pinched between his eyes.

“How could I?! Physics lies!” From where he’d sat cross-legged on the floor, Mikey began to lift off and float like a wayward balloon.

“Not everyone can do that!” Raph gave a big sweep so the air generated would blow Mikey away.

Spinning upside-down and bun hanging on for dear life, Mikey grinned with nothing but teeth.

“He gets to fly and have hair. Life truly favors the youngest.” Leo sighed.

“Let me get this straight.” You ground out.

They had no self control.

Leo turned toward you with honest interest.

“You try to stage what is basically some kind of fucked up meet-cute to clear the air, and when it goes wrong, you get me alone, use Raph as a distraction, throw the attention of the crowd, knock me out with magic, bring me to the subway, and tie me up to interrogate me!?”

Silence prevailed like an itchy blanket.

“When you say it like that, it sounds terrible.” Leo grimaced and was clearly sweating.

“Because it is!!! Why are you like this!? Who thinks like that!? It’s like you’re a cartoon character!”

It also sounded eerily familiar, but you weren’t going to get into that.

Raph made his way over.

Leo, nerves fried, went on high alert. “And where do you think you’re going!?”

“I’m untying Y/N. This has gotten way out of hand. You know it now so let’s knock it off.”

“No!” With a slide of outstretched arms and legs, Leo blocked his brother from you. “We still don’t know what they’re up to!”

With his height, you could see Raph set his face with irritation. “Leo, you heard April. They’ve got nothing. Which-” He looked at you. “-are you alright? Why don’t you have a phone?”

It had been a long day.

Your eyes closed as you rocked back.

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense Leo whipping around at your hesitation.

“What… you caught the tail end of was…” Doubt held your tongue.

Here you were, miserable in having a front seat to their antics when your friends weren’t much better.

They just weren’t superpowered.

You paled at the thought.

Shoving the concept aside, you at least sympathized with how tired you were of all the damned misunderstandings. “… a fucked up not intervention because Coral, my friend that you saw, thought… Donnie was… hurting me…”

The two parties you could see stiffened with open worry.

“He isn’t, to be clear.”

“But she had reason to think so?” Leo took an honest step towards you.

“I don’t want to get into it, but yes.” You shot him what you hoped was a clear look. “It was circumstantial and none of it was his fault.” Letting your expression sour, you injected venom. “You should know that much though. From listening in.”

Leo shirked to the side. “I… may have tuned some stuff out.”

“Leo!” Raph threw his head back.

“You smell it too!” Leo hissed with a sudden ferocity. “You’d do the same!”

Raph balked and his gaze fell to the floor.

Mikey floated slowly to your right. “Smell what?”

“Don’t ask!”

“You don’t wanna know!”

Mikey shot you a curious look.

You blatantly ignored him.

Raph waved his arms to change course. “How does that explain your phone?!”

“Coral thought…” You shot a barbed look at Leo. “… that Donnie might be tracking me. She stole my phone and tech-” Your mouth snapped shut.

“You do have tech!” Leo jumped and landed pointing at you as if he’d revealed a great mystery. “I knew it!”

Your head shot away which you both hated for its guilty factor and because it put you right in the eye line of Mikey.

“Also! Vindication!” Leo’s fingers were flying to accuse all parties. “I’m not paranoid! I’m not the only one who thought all of this and, triple point score, this girl didn’t even know the purple pain-in-my-ass was a bad guy!!”

Having validated nonsense, you clocked the back of your head against the chair.

Raph pushed Leo out of the way like he weighed nothing. “Y/N…?”

“Yes, Raph?” You stared at the brick ceiling.

“It sounds like… you’ve answered this question a million times, but… does he?”

“No, Raph.”

A hush fell that was broken with a skin slapping noise. When your head came back down, Raph was rolling his eyes as Leo batted at him.

“Tell me about the tech!” Leo jumped away before Raph could stop him.

“No.” You glared daggers.

“Is he converting you to the dark side?” Mikey did a little wiggle to right himself.

“No!” You didn��t pass the orange turtle a look.

“I’m convinced!” Mikey lowered with purpose and landed on the tips of his toes. “I’m with Raph now, Lee. Let’s let Y/N go.”

“Et tu!?” Leo gasped. “You didn’t even clear anything up!”

Mikey’s expression fell, but nowhere near the other times you’d seen it do so. “I’m reminded of a saying from group; you can’t change how people perceive you.”

“Todd-ism’s are full of it!” Leo hissed.

Mikey continued on as if his brother hadn’t spoken. “You can only try to be a good person.” He turned towards you. “I haven’t been good to you and you have every right to hate me for it. No more second guessing you or pushing.”

A little stunned, you gave a wary nod.

Mikey walked over to Raph to punctuate his chosen side.

“No! What?! No!!” Leo screeched. “We were going to take turns!! We were going to fix this! We were going to make everything right!”

Staring at the manic back of Leo’s head, you could only think of how he didn’t handle change well.

It was another bizarre coincidence.

“Let me start from the beginning!” Leo’s light bulb going off shined so brightly that it blew. He turned wild eyes towards you and grabbed each side of the back of your chair, getting dangerously close to your face. “It all started when we were 14! Some new mutant came onto the scene-!”

“Leo, that’s enough!!” Raph gave what sounded very much like a final warning.

“Leo, you’re losing it! Calm down, man!!” Mikey pleaded.

You could only feel two things:

Your racing heart and fear.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up at the all encompassing broken expression on Leo’s face.

“-We were fucking teenagers and this asshole comes up comparing back stories like it’s a fucking competition! Swinging in with intelligence that was incomprehensible next to us! Where I’d been the ‘idea guy’ at best, suddenly everyone’s lives are in my hands on what can only be described as a whim! I tried my best to keep my team-my family alive in the face of a murderer. So yeah, I developed fucking anxiety, but who wouldn’t!? It was relentless. It was my whole life! It was all consuming!! Ever present!!! One wrong move and they die! They don’t come back!! When that’s all I have!!! Plus! There’s this whole other me that failed so badly he ended the entire, fucking, world!!! I had to be better than was ever possible for me, myself, or I, but especially better than him!!!”

You blinked.

Your lips rounded.

“Oh.”

The vowel popped out.

Weak and small.

Barely alive.

“Shit, he’s having a meltdown.” You heard Raph say.

“Already on it.” There was a rush of sound and you knew it was Mikey’s chains.

Leo blinked and his pupils disappeared.

He was gone from you before your muscles could alight with terror at the change.

What happened next came in colors.

An exploded rush of red that seemed to envelope the whole room.

Your chair flew out and orange chains netted like a catcher’s mitt to keep you from hitting a wall.

Over a dozen blue discs appeared with flashes of green soaring through them faster than you could track.

Your chair hit the ground on one leg and you felt the wood splinter from impact.

Then, there was a voice.

Gruff, but booming.

“Boys!”

Everything stopped.

In a single lid fall and raise, it was all gone.

All the color was reduced to three men standing at erect attention in a line.

Facing one of the staircases.

You were slow to turn there.

Standing with one hand against the wall and a single foot off the steps was a little rat man.

With white hair, a worn-in yukata, and a cane, he positioned the latter to help him make the final descent.

It took a grunt with his weight, but in a slow turn, he took the room in. “What is going on here?”

None of them could bear to go first.

They hung their heads.

Like they were reduced to children.

“You boys haven’t fought like this since you were kids…” The rat man’s gaze hit you and his expression fell. “What is this…? What have you done?”

Their bodies didn’t shuffle, but you saw the back of Raph’s head turn away.

With a clack of his cane against the brick, the rat man charged straight over to you. There, his gaze appeared from under bushy eyebrows as he openly took you in. “Who… are you…?”

Eyes widening as his met yours, you placed a wayward comment. “You’re Lou Jitsu…”

Struck by the name, he leaned back. “Oh!” Shifting from surprise, he stroked his beard. “What’s this?! I still maintain my looks! I told you boys I will always be recognizable!”

“Or…” Your gaze dropped. “You had a few names. Yoshi… or…?”

He gave a single sharp bang with his cane before his aura tripled the size of his small height. “How do you know that name?”

“I’m…”

He’d called them boys.

Raph had mentioned their dad.

They consider themselves brothers.

“Well?” He turned to give you a single focused eye.

“I’m dating Donatello.”

It was like you’d punched him in the gut.

Visibly shaken, he wheezed on a breath and took a step back.

“Dad!” Mikey called out.

The man rose a single hand to stop them and coughed violently, clearing his throat.

Not leaving formation, Mikey pulled the hand he was reaching out with to nurse at his chest.

The rat man managed a deep breath and set himself. He then turned and, from the way the turtles reacted, he was doing a fatherly scan of an incident.

You watched guilt pass each of them differently.

Mikey flicked a glance before dropping his gaze to the floor along with the hunch of his body.

Raph took a pained expression and sent it to the side.

Leo’s whole body twitched, but he remained the firmest.

He stared his dad down openly.

They stood like that for a long moment before the rat man returned to you.

In that single exchange, though it seemed clear he’d been left out of the loop, you could tell he knew everything he needed to.

“Do you deserve this treatment?”

“No…” You debated it for a moment and then gave in. “…sir.”

“None of that.” He ushered before giving an effort to kneel down. It took a pinch to his face but his long pink fingers came around one of your legs. “Splinter is the current name you are looking for.”

“Oh.” The sound was unlike the one you’d given Leo. “Master?”

He shook his head and the binds to your left leg fell loose.

“Splinter.” You repeated aloud to cement it.

Your right leg came free and he slowed, psyching himself up to stand. You watched him and picked up on how he was avoiding your gaze. “Is…. dating… new? I have not heard much about this…”

His voice was so small.

Almost as small as him.

It was also as broken as a parent trying to scrape what little they could about a child that no longer spoke to them.

“It’s…” You softened in spite of worries that he might deserve that absence.

Something told you he didn’t.

There were so many misunderstandings.

“It’s new for him.” You spoke fondly. “We just had our one year anniversary.”

Splinter perked up and one of his ears flicked with intense interest. His shoulders then hiked with embarrassment as he attempted to tuck it away and get to his feet. “Congratulations are in order.”

You nodded, heart yanked. “Yes, he’s… very romantic.”

There was a sharp exhale from one of the turtles.

It was no match for the pride oozing off Splinter. It buoyed him to his feet where he began to undo the knots at your back. “I… would like to ask another question, if that is alright?”

“Sure.” Your arms came loose and you flexed them.

“Is he…” Splinter’s voice shattered and he had to hold onto a shard as he undid the last binding.

In a slow release, the ropes around your torso slacked.

He hobbled all the way around you to get strength from your gaze to continue. “Is… Donatello… I mean… Is he… alright?”

Leo clicked his tongue so loudly it sliced through the room.

Without you even blinking, Splinter’s cane disappeared from existence.

You only found it because of the loud noise that emitted from Leo as it hit him in the face.

“Orange.”

“Yep!” Mikey sang and stepped out of formation on a single leg. In a peppy hop, he snatched up the cane from Leo’s collapsed form and ran over to pass it back to his dad.

Splinter took it with a little smile and Mikey gave him a peck to his forehead before jogging back to his place.

“Can I ask you something?”

Splinter’s ear flicked again. “I assume you have many.”

You nodded.

“Please.”

“He… Donnie…” You clarified and wrung your free hands. “He said you never looked for him…?”

Splinter gave a sad sigh. “Would you mind coming with me?”

Your lips twitched.

Splinter took notice. “This is not ideal for you or my back. I require my chair.”

You gave a single laugh. “Something orthopedic?”

“Yes, I can never say that word.” Splinter gave his own puff of humor before glancing at the turtles. “Blue, portal.”

Leo had just gotten back up. “You’re joking.”

Raph glowered down at him.

Mikey smacked a hand to his face.

“What?!” Leo shot a sour look down the line. “It’s not even about this, but ho’boy you better believe I’m pissed about it! It’s about him abusing my power! He does this all the time! It’s an ongoing thing! Last week it was just to get the remote which, by the way, ended up being on the arm right next to him!!”

“It takes like two seconds.” Raph’s hands turned up to gesture how ridiculous Leo was being.

“Says the guy who’s 7’6”! You literally don’t even have to embiggen to get whatever crap he needs from the top shelf” Leo folded his arms.

“Leonardo.” Splinter addressed evenly. “I will listen next family meeting. For now….”

Leo’s lips pursed before he held his hand out. There out of a blink of blue light, he pulled out a sword and swung it. In front of you, a blue portal appeared.

“Thank you.” Splinter bobbed a thankful nod before walking through it.

You gave the boys a final glance before moving to enter it as well.

Coming out the otherside felt like nothing and you watched as Splinter was already scrambling up into an armchair. Now in a glorified TV room, there was a huge projector on one wall and familial seating scattered about the space. With Splinter’s grunts filling the air, he eventually got turned around before reclining back with a contented sigh.

You stood awkwardly beside him and reviewed the options which ranged from a sofa to an old patched bean bag. Nervous, you perched on the edge of the closest couch seat.

Taking a moment to bask in relief, Splinter’s eyes opened with a faraway look. “I did.”

You perked up.

“I know he does not believe me, but I did not know… that he survived. I saw four turtles, but only three slid out during the explosion…” His head turned towards you. “In the chaos, I looked for the fourth, but the lab was collapsing. I had to assume he didn’t…” His gaze sharpened and he looked forward again. “I would hold that assumption for 15 years.”

Your eyes darted, trying to log every single word and candor.

“The boys did not tell me when they found out. How could they? I had never mentioned their… other...” Splinter gestured downward and you looked out to see another staircase leading out of the room. “I would come to know only after overhearing them complain about a purple assailant off handedly.” Pain bled into his features. “I do not blame them. For a long time none of us were very honest with one another.”

Your gaze flicked up with knowledge. “They… you’re saying they didn’t tell you when they met Donnie?”

“I did not find out until a year had passed since he was revealed to be another turtle.”

Your head dropped.

What was wrong with all of them?

That was rhetorical.

It was also frustrating beyond comprehension.

“I could have cleared things up, but…” Splinter’s hand spun, gesturing to what he’d already explained.

You brought your head up, weakly.

“I remember that moment clearly: I was eating cereal and dropped my bowl.” He lifted from his chair with a slight wince. “I left then to find him. My… what I considered my lost… son…”

The last word was so quiet, you had to put it in place through context.

“I found him within the hour. He was… not what I expected.”

Your eyes widened.

“I could not…” Agony warped his words. “I could not approach. I felt shame. I was at fault. If I had only-“ He choked and crushed his lids down to compose himself. What surfaced were wounds that had been ripped open time and time again, never healing quite right. “I had made a habit of running away. Always. From everything.”

You stood and looked for tissues.

Splinter massaged his temple. “I ended up shadowing him for many, many nights. Never able to approach. I saw… what he had become… what had been done to him… What he continued to do.”

Not finding them, you approached his side.

He looked at you with a forlorn fondness. “Another mistake on many. In my distraction, I did not see what was happening with my other boys. The Shredder took form and by the time I was able to meet with Donatello, it was under the worst circumstance.”

You gave a shallow nod.

“I would try over and over to reach him after that.” Splinter’s eyes shone and then he sent them away. “Too late.”

Your hand pressed into the armrest.

He covered it with his own. “Too late to help my lost son. Too late to help the ones I raised. Almost too late to keep humanity from perishing.”

“It didn’t…” You whispered.

“It didn’t.” He agreed. “I have made more mistakes than I care to count.”

You caught his thumb and squeezed.

“I could not keep them from hurting each other.” He choked out.

You dropped to your knees to meet his eye level.

He looked over you with a tiny smile fighting against his pain. “There is no need to feel bad. I did nothing but age and fail my boys.”

You wanted to protest, but even now, you still didn’t know enough.

You had very little to offer.

Only what you knew.

“Donnie is amazing.”

Splinter’s eyes popped open and a single, fat tear rolled out.

“He’s loving and kind and a genius and totally insane and I adore him.”

Splinter leaned forward and his other hand added to the stack.

“He laughs now.” Your head tilted and you couldn’t keep a smile off your face. “I’ve never asked, but I don’t think he ever really did in a happy way?”

Splinter gave a rapid nod.

“He smiles a lot. Way more than when we first met. It’s like everyday he’s a little bit happier.”

You felt little claws dig into your skin, but it didn’t hurt.

You glanced at the projector. “He still doesn’t like movies, but he watches them. He’s not one for music, but he doesn’t mind when I hum a tune. He’s got these ninja-like moves, but he can’t throw a piece of candy to save his life. He’s an amazing chef and went through a food science phase which was both good and bad. He… When we met he was on a ridiculous quest to find a good sandwich.”

“Mikey loves to cook!” The phrase shot out of him with a near sob.

“I’ve heard sort of: that he goes to fancy shops and now the farmer’s market.”

“Too adventurous!” Splinter gave an annoyed grunt. “He makes the best food and then inedible dishes!”

You laughed. “We had raw meat dry aging in our fridge for weeks!”

Splinter removed a hand to bang it as a fist to the chair. “I’ve had enough jerky to shrivel up and become one!”

Sharing in chuckles, he broke the moment first with an exhale that spoke to an ages old held breath. “Thank you… I did not catch your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you.” Your shoulders bobbed. “You saved me.”

Splinter clicked his tongue, not unlike Leo. “I have been left out yet again.”

Sympathy came, but he dispelled it with an irritated rock of his body.

“To do this while I was out enjoying a competition! From my dojos! I cannot believe them!” His eyes closed with indignity as he threw his head back.

“That’s… you were… at what-?” You stalled, hit with way too much information.

“The Lou Jitsu Schools of Ninjutsu!” Splinter sharply bobbed with pride. “Raphael brought them back from the brink and reestablished us as the top martial arts school in the city!”

“H-huh.”

Splinter eyed you. “You have not heard of this. I doubt your taste.”

“Hey!”

He gave a snicker.

You puffed out your cheeks, annoyed.

“I’m sure you do not want to hear me drone on any longer. The kidnapping was enough. Let’s get you home.”

Your gaze flattened out on how he’d so easily glossed over that second part.

“BOYS!!!”

You jerked away at the sound, ears ringing.

Splinter turned to address the turtles as they clambered in.

“Don’t they all have super hearing…?” You rubbed your drums.

“Yes, they were listening in.” Splinter eyed Mikey specifically who whistled away.

“Why?”

“I like yelling!” Splinter pronounced with his entire chest.

You groaned and rounded the back of the chair.

“Leonardo, you will not hinder Y/N further.”

“Just me?” Leo spit, quiet.

“Your back talk says it is truly only you.” Splinter stood and tapped his cane to the cushion. “Deliver them directly.”

Leo went ramrod straight and fury rolled off of him. “Dad, you don’t-!”

“You will not fight.” Splinter looked over his shoulder at you and winked before returning to his son. “Call him.”

“You have Donnie’s number?!” Your hackles went up.

“Not… exactly…” Leo was looking so sour that he was a moment away from pickling himself. “It’s a nuclear option kind of thing. One use only.”

You tilted your head, not sure how that worked.

“Meaning we can’t blow it just because someone got their phone taken away like a kid!”

You bristled, but felt Splinter’s ire turn towards you. “You do not have a phone?”

“If you didn’t know, why'd you ask me to call!?” Leo whined.

“Call is general! I do not know about your nuclear system! That is for power plants!” Splinter snapped away to scold Leo before returning that grouch to you.

You had to avoid that tough fatherly eye. “It’s a long story...”

“Who does not have a phone these days?!” Splinter fussed.

Leo threw his arms out and hummed loudly at Raph.

“Even I have a phone.” Reaching into his yukata, he pulled out an older model. “I hate it.”

“It’s so easy though, dad!” Mikey groaned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Splinter brushed the lot of them off with a flick of his huge tail. “As I said.”

“‘You will not fight’!” Leo mocked. “So great when you can throw a decree down on me knowing full well the other party has no obligation to follow it!”

“He will. As you will also pass a message along.”

Leo froze in his stoop to turn a curious gaze up.

You watched Leo, confused, before realizing the whole lot of them were wide-eyed at this message idea. Turning to Splinter, you caught, up close, the way his gaze tinted with suffering. “You will tell him to meet me at our usual booth. He will understand.”

“Dad…” Raph mouthed.

“Have you…?” Mikey covered his mouth to keep anymore from coming out.

In front of them Leo held up a fist which had the tactical code for silence. “The family meeting is tonight.”

Splinter gave a nod as if this was a bargaining session.

Leo turned away and signaled for Mikey to follow him.

Raph watched them go, on edge.

Splinter let his posture drop and pressed a hand around his back. “I apologize Y/N. I also ask, if… he will permit…” He slid you a small glance. “If you will come as well?”

“Uh… sure.” You nodded, not exactly sure what you were agreeing to beyond some kind of meeting.

“I am going to sit and watch my programs now. You can stay or go.” Splinter waved you away before collapsing into his chair.

You frowned at how dismissive he was until he spoke a final time with a heavy heart.

“Thank you.”

Giving a little sigh, you nodded. “Of course.”

Raph was twiddling his fingers, near the stairs.

“How long will the call take?”

Raph surfaced from his thoughts and craned an arm behind his head. “The way I understand, it gets forced through, so it’s more like how long it’ll take him to get… not here, but… whatever meeting place Leo sets.”

“Does he… not know where here is?” You walked over.

“It’s a big ask, but can we keep it that way?” Raph turned, urging you to join him in descending the stairs.

“I don’t see how that’s something I can do.” You followed. “Like, again, how he doesn’t already know.”

“We’ve, uh, got a network kinda thing protecting us from his bots. It took a lot of trial and error.”

“It…” You gave one last glance to the disappearing rumpus room. “You’ve clearly been here awhile.”

Raph nodded. “Longest yet, going on six years.”

“I won’t tell. I also have no idea where we are because of the kidnapping.” You barbed the last word.

Raph droned out an abysmal sound.

Satisfied by it, you continued. “But I can’t help… Donnie being Donnie.” You grimaced.

Raph showed his understanding with a glance. “Dad’s weird code better mean something. I don’t like the idea of sending Leo alone.”

“I can’t guarantee he’ll listen to me, but I’ll try to keep the exchange civil…”

Raph had reached the end of the stairs having casually taken them several at a time. Where you were about to reach him, he turned back with honest confusion. “Why?”

“Why…?”

“Why… would you? You should want to support him, right? After what we did…” Raph glanced back and you realized you were back in the pseudo war room.

“I don’t…” You slowed, not sure of exactly how to put it. “Whatever is happening with you all is… so much bigger than me. Even with a bias… taking sides when there’s so much I don’t know…” You hit the landing and quieted, lost.

Silence beat the air until Raph chuffed.

You looked up to find him sporting a lopsided grin with a sharp canine peaking out. “I see why he likes you.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you had to look away.

Raph hummed with light laughter.

Needing to distract yourself, you kicked only to scuff your shoe on brick. “By the way…”

“Yeah?” He examined the ground as if looking for a pebble.

“What was with the scary Leo warning? Not doing it Leo’s way?” You looked up with a faint dusting still lingering.

Raph’s lid dropped along with his head like a heavy weight fell on him. “I really don’t like that mustard'ah! It’s all those dang little seeds. They get stuck in my teeth and then my fingers are too big to-” He blinked his eyes wide, seeing you anew. “-and I’m realizing now how scary it musta sounded. Raph does not wanna be like those guys so let’s say I mighta been worried about how a talk with Leo might have gone…” He gestured to some of the wreckage that marked the earlier meltdown. “…which is sometimes not great.”

“I’ll take it.” You gave a sort of defeated smile.

Leo stormed up a set of stairs you hadn’t seen used yet. “We need to go.” He located you and his gaze narrowed, lethally. “Now.”

“Leo…” Raph urged.

“I know.” There was a split second break in Leo’s staunch façade and you saw a flash of how genuinely nervous he was.

“Where’s Mikey?” Raph held himself back and his posture told you it was because of you.

It was an unspoken agreement.

You weren’t supposed to see that kind of weakness.

You moved over to Leo’s side.

Leo tracked you the whole way. “Keeping an eye out.”

“Which entrance?” Raph straightened his composure.

“Grand.” Leo clipped. “Stand by at Black Cat and I’ll signal if it goes south.”

With a tight nod, Raph took off.

“We’re hoofing it and he isn’t going to wait. Follow me.” Leo headed back towards the stairs he’d come up.

“Can’t you portal? Sounds like you know where.” You glanced at where Raph had gone. “Isn’t it… bad for me to see where we’re going?”

“I’ve monitored you. You don’t have the mapping capability for a ‘one and done’ memorization.”

You sneered, having to triple your speed only to keep falling behind. “That doesn’t answer my first question.”

“He can track mystic energy to an extent.” Leo threw a glance over his shoulder and saw you struggling. He slowed a little.

You parted him a wilted form of gratitude as you hit the bottom of the stairs, passed some old retrofitted subway cars, and disappeared down a dark tunnel.

💜Follow me, the tag #weakspotfic , or Ao3 for updates! Behind the scenes deep dive for this chapter and others along with in-depth writing discussions, WIPS, and more are only 1$ over on my patreon~ 💜

Don't forget to check out my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 as they do their own stuff in addition to helping me!

87 notes · View notes

sweetnsour1 · 2 years

Text

5:39:01

Spicy fluff, Bakugou x female reader, Part 1/4

Part of the Cute as hell collection

“What do you wanna talk about?”

That was an excellent question. Everything between the two of you had been off center. Your routine had just slowly gotten kind of worse while you two were busy with missions…by the time you really noticed it had been weeks.

“Um…” you fidgeted with the spinner ring on your thumb. It whirred while you stayed silent. He crossed his arms to keep himself from reaching out to you.

“You sick of me or somethin’?”

You froze. The ring stopped and you laughed.

“It’s actually kind of the opposite, handsome.” He relaxed a bit, dropped his arms and this time he didn’t hesitate to grab your hand. He kissed your palm before placing it against his chest.

“Then what’s the fuckin’ problem, brat?” His body was relaxed, but he was frowning…worry lines creased his forehead below the mask that was shoved up past his hairline.

“It’s just-it’s just been a while since I’ve sat on your face.” He laughed and then laughed harder when he saw you were actually pouting.

“Fuckin’ hell. Ya scared me for a minute.”

“Don’t laugh! I’m serious.” You turned your head away from him, letting out a huff that could rival one of his own. He grabbed your chin and turned you back to face him. You moaned softly at the look he was giving you. He was grinning in that hungry way of his.

“Sorry, you’re absolutely right. This is a serious problem. Let’s fix it.” He licked his lips.

“Uh huh.” You were nearly panting with excitement as he pushed up against you, leaving no room between you and the wall. You whined as he started licking and nibbling his way down your neck. He grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled your legs up. You wrapped them around his waist, easily falling back into your broken habits.

“Good girl.”

He kissed you before you could finish groaning at the praise. He slid one hand to grope your ass support you, while the other fisted into your hair. You broke the kiss, knowing he needed to see to get you to the bedroom. His gauntlets had been tossed somewhere in the hall. You pulled his costume to the side to start kissing and nibbling where no one but you (and maybe other heroes at his agency) would see the marks. He laughed when you bit down a little harder than usual.

“Mmmmm fuck, you really are upset huh? Didn’t I just fuck you this morning?”

“Uh huh, but we didn’t have time to do everything I wanted.” He grunted in agreement before dropping you on the bed. You bounced at the impact and glared up at him.

“Oh calm down. We both know you like it rougher than that, y/n.”

He wasn’t wrong, but fuck you were riled up. You’d have to make time to spar with him tomorrow. It had been a while since someone had knocked him on his ass.

“What? Wanna fight me? Thought you wanted to take a seat.” He was smiling and leaning over you. His strong arms caged you in and…fuck you loved this man.

Part 2 and Part 3 and Part 4

Masterlist

#bakugou #bakugou fluff #katsuki x y/n #mha fluff #bakugou fic #mha bakugou #mha drabbles #cute #bakugou smut #mha katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki smut #bakugou x reader

582 notes · View notes

i-literally-cant-with-this · 8 months

Text

A/N= I had this idea 5 or so days ago, and I can't tell you how much Professor Geto stuff I've seen since. I guess we're all on the same wavelength, and that's awesome. There needs to be more Professor Geto in the world.

C/W= P->V. Oral (giving/receiving). Lap riding. Masturbation (tiny talk of toys). Adult movie. Some cutesy shit. Some humor. Maybe a few other things. MDNI NSFW 🔞

W/C: 7k+some

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

For Science! 👊

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

"The pattern of the effectual relationship is more obvious in the decline of overall satisfaction. Do you all see how this corroborates with the suggestion that love and sex don't have to go hand in hand?" He looked at you when he said this. It made you shift slightly in your warmed seat.

Professor Geto was trying not to lose his students' attention in this lecture. But they were all idiots who were run solely by their hormones.

"She can go hand my cock!" Someone yelled from the middle of the auditorium.

"Yes. What a very clever hypothesis," Geto said. "Why, uh, why don't you all just head out. Winter break starts in ... 39 minutes. Just go. Happy whatever. I'll see you in the new year when we're back in session."

The same asshole yelled out, "You mean SEX-SION!" Him and his dipshit friends laughed all the way to the courtyard.

Geto, unamused, shook his head and adjusted his glasses as the rest of his students filed out into the snow. He began putting a gross amount of paperwork into his worn leather bag, and then he looked around to make sure everyone was gone before he locked up.

His eyes landed on you. In your heavy sweatshirt and jeans. You sat in the very last seat in the front row, farthest from the exit.

"Were you asleep when I told everyone to go? Fucking kids these days –" You cut off his complaint and asked him if he could go over one thing with you before you left.

"Oh, a legitimate question. I apologize. What about ....?" He turned his left ear a little to you, hinting at you to say what your name was.

You put your hand to your chest, "Y/n. It's y/n."

"Ok, y/n. What's your question?" You gathered up your laptop and scattered papers and stuck them in your backpack. Then you stood and walked over to him.

He immediately saw how beautiful you are, even hidden away under the navy blue sweatshirt and bulky jeans you wore. You pulled your hood off and let your hair pool around your shoulders.

It surprised him, you staying behind. Most of his students made a run for it as quickly as possible.

Professor Geto was no fool. In fact, he was quite intuitive. He'd run his course based on several factors; how the audience was reacting to him, how he was being perceived at different parts of his lectures. He was always aware of his surroundings.

You got to his desk and leaned your curvy hips against the edge of the heavy, dark wood.

"You say that scientists have long supported the idea that love and sex don't have to go hand in hand?"

"Mmhm." He nodded. Feeling the slightest rush of heat throughout his body while discussing this with you. Surely, he shouldn't feel like he was crossing a line. He was the professor of a very valid and increasingly important course. Plus, you approached him. It's not as if he asked you to stay behind to discuss your grade so he could bend you over his desk and fuck an 'A' next to your name on his computer. These things were typical discussion topics.

"Have these "scientists" done any studies of the effects of dopamine levels in two people that fuck —"

Both of your eyes locked with the other's. Uncertain if you meant to say that to him as he was your teacher or if you intentionally left the word dangling between the two of you in the emptied room.

"If you fuck someone enough..." you continued like you were, for the most part, unphased by his pause. "...and they're good at what they do, and they make you cu– I mean, climax often, if not consistently, then on a semi-regular basis, won't some sort of feelings develop over time? Like, there would be some sort of attachment formed. I know it would be hard for me to be fucking someone, to be so intimate with them and not have feelings bubble up at some point. Especially with all the hormones and shit involved. Some people just make you feel better. You can feign physical attraction. But a chemical one? I don't know."

He stared at you with a blank face. You looked right back at him, waiting for his answer. Your e/c drawing him in. Shifting your backpack from your right shoulder to your left, you cleared your throat.

"Um, shit. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked YOU this. I'll go talk to my family priest or something."

Geto laughed, "You have a priest?" You sat your stuff down and scrunched up your nose, smiling back at him. "Well, no. The only time my family talks to God is when their asses are in the air gettin' – no. Not religious."

"Did you have any other ideas about sex and love? How can you have them both, none, or merely one or the other?"

You were a little taken aback as to why he wasn't offering you an answer. You did, after all, approach him about this.

"What are you doing right now?" He asked you, hoping to come across as cool and apathetic as he always was. But his cock was beginning to ache for your undivided attention. And though Professor Geto was a master at driving people's attention where he wanted it, he could not seem to alter your ability to maintain eye contact.

You suddenly straightened your body at his question. "W‐what am I doing right now? I mean," for some reason, you wanted to come off as if you were in really high demand.

That was anything but the truth: Your mother and step-dad went to his family's vacation home in the English countryside a week before you were out for the winter. They offered to pay for your ticket. But you really didn't like Christmas anyway and told them you had a lot of studying to do.

"Do you have plans over the holiday with your family? Friends?" He waited what he thought was a healthy amount of time before he asked you if you were doing anything special with your boyfriend.

Your outburst of laughter was embarrassing. You haven't had a boyfriend since your junior year of high school. The guys you knew made passes at you, sure. But they were so fucking childish. You hated it.

"Sor- hahaha -no, sorry. I don't have a boyfriend waiting for me under the mistletoe this year. I'm just going to be in my quiet dorm room. Waiting for this godforsaken stretch of time to end."

He didn't find that funny at all, which made you feel like an even larger tool. "So, you're just, going to be alone this Chrismas?"

You lifted your hood over your hair and answered him smoothly. "Yyyyep. I guess I'll see you when we're back in sex-sion? Eh?"

At long last, you got a laugh from him. "So wait. You're telling me that you're capable of laughter!?" You said sarcastically.

"I'm capable of more than you can imagine, little one."

That was it, your cunt fluttered at his suggestive admission. Grasping at anything to break that spell he cast over you. Those were the words that spurred on your attraction for your Human Sexuality professor.

"Well, if you're not doing anything this week, there's a French film playing at the old cinema on 11th and Craine. We don't have to go together. We don't even have to sit near each o-"

"YES. I mean, yeah. I'd love to go. What time?" You interrupted him so hard that he jumped a little at your shouting. He smiled. It was beautiful. He never smiled in class.

"There's a showing to- ah, damn it. Let me check my phone for the times again. Sorry. Hold on." He pulled his phone from his professor-y blazer, and scrolled through the listing. "Yeah. Ok, so there's showings tomorrow night at 7, 9:20, 11:40, and 2am."

Your heart sank to the floor. "Nothing tonight, huh?" He looked at you. So small and absolutely let down. He wanted to comfort you over this absurd disappointment. But that is a line he shouldn't cross. You were his student. It was against the school's code of conduct for him to do anything more than teach you. But this was a loophole. He was fairly certain he could talk himself out of any infraction.

Oh my god, how he wanted to reach his hand to your face. To lift your eyes to his with the pads of his fingers under your chin. It was such a stupid blunder. He almost wishes he hadn't said anything to you about it.

"I – no. I'm sorry, y/n. As it stands, the only showings are tomorrow. I prefer to go to the –"

"Earlier shows, right?" You asked, not even trying to shield him from your growing frustration at having to wait.

"Eh, no. No, actually, I prefer the later ones. The later, the better. Despite being a teacher, I really try to avoid people as much as possible. My friend group is pretty small. Anyway. Here's my card with my personal cell on the back. Let me know if I should expect you, hm? If I don't see you, please have a nice break."

You wanted to protest from the rooftop to keep him there talking with you. But there just wasn't a reason to say anything else. So you said goodbye and walked out into the freezing air. And head back to your 1/2 vacant dorm room.

The way back, you replayed the conversation between the two of you. It felt like a really long talk. But really, it took no longer than 10 minutes.

You felt a little stupid for getting upset about having to wait a whole day to see him. Well, if you decide to go, that is.

For now, you would find odd things to keep you busy to better pass the time.

* ● *● * ● * ●

You woke up feeling FANTASTIC. You slept for 9 hours. Your dreams were filled with Geto fucking you until you couldn't walk anymore so he had to carry you to his bed and fuck you to the point you couldn't talk. It was the best night in you've had in ages.

Today was the day you were supposed to meet him at the old theater for the French film. You picked up the jeans you were wearing yesterday and dug around for his phone number so you could let him know you would be joining him tonight.

"Whe– Where the fuck is that card! Shit! How am I supposed to call and let him ... oh goddamn it all to hell." You sat down on your bed and tossed your hands into your lap. "The later, the better. Ok. No one goes to an 11:40 movie over winter break. Right? Ok! So I'll just get there at 11:30 and go sit in the theater ... and, and wait. Where is that fucking card!?"

You ripped your desk apart. Shook out everything you wore when he gave it to you. It was nowhere to be found. But at least you knew roughly what time he would be there.

* ● *● * ● * ●

It was 8 pm, and you were beside yourself with anticipation. You'd already gotten yourself off twice and considering a third orgasm to dull your nervous edge just a bit more.

Instead of trying to ease your anxieties a 3rd time that way, you tried a shower with your favorite aromatic oils. You hated how well this shit worked. "It's so cliché, mom." You told her when she brought you back a box of oils from India.

That all changed when you made your own sandlewood and vanilla blend. You never gave her any shit again. And when they travel, she will oftentimes pick up some new oils for you to test. There's literally an oil for whatever is ailing you.

You were lucky to be one of the on-campus residents to have a newer dorm with a shower in the room. You were fine showering in a more public space, but there were time restrictions in the shared bathing areas.

Turning the water on, you took off your clothes and stepped into the steam. There was a part of you that wanted to take a leisurely shower. To exfoliate and shave and deep condition your hair.

But you were too nervous to hold a razor to your body. The looks Professor Geto had been giving you all semester had finally amounted to something. Was this a date? "I need to stop this hyperfocus shit. Gotta cum again."

You cracked open the shower door and stepped carefully out onto the mat on the floor to dry your feet. You've fallen too many times to not take shower safety seriously. And if you fell tonight you'd never forgive yourself for fucking up this chance.

Your new vibrator was still in its box in your nightstand drawer. You opened the packaging like a child on Christmas morning and started button mashing the 3 at the base of it to figure out which button did what.

"Let's see just what this baby can do. Ok. This button – oh! Oh ... damn." You raised your eyebrows. "I ... may never ... be stressed about anything again."

You figured out the most basic settings; the bunny ears got you off really quickly. Truthfully, it was the in-your-head Geto who did the heavy lifting. But you felt a little better.

You shaved everything you wanted to shave and exfoliated everything that was safe to exfoliate.

The outfit you chose was simple, but seen by the right eyes, it could be considered sexy. It was a long, large floral-print pattern over a solid green background and a white tight-fitting t-shirt. You wore boots with thigh-high socks. This provided you with some warmth from the cold. The socks were thick and connected to a garter belt around your waist so they wouldn't slouch down. You made the conscious decision to forgo panties for the night.

"Ok," you said. "You smell delicious. You're soft and silky. You. Are. Ready. Ready to sit with him for 2 hours and 20 minutes."

"S'do this, y/n."

* ● *● * ● * ●

Friday 11:30pm

11th and Craine @ The Faux Devant Theater

Film: Ton sexe. Mon sexe. Notre sexe.

Translation: Your sex, My sex, Our sex

* ● *● * ● * ●

"There's just the one movie playing here tonight?" You asked, embarrassed that you were alone and buying a ticket for a movie that had the word sex in it 3 times, and you didn't know what the other 3 words translated to.

"Yeah, this is here until the end of the week, and then we dig up another one. Blah blah blah."

You laughed at their apparent boredom with the job. "Ok, uh, 1 adult for," you pointed at the poster of the naked people in a lovers embrace. "For this one, I guess." They gave you your ticket, smirked, and told you to enjoy the show.

You went into the dark room, and you were surprised to see how it was set up. There was no traditional theater seating. But there were couches and loveseats spread smartly across the floor.

You looked around for anyone else who might be in there tonight. It was totally empty. Even the projection room lights were off.

The movie was going to start in about 5 minutes. Where was he? "Oh god. Ohhh nooo. Fuck. He's standing me up. And not in a good way, either. God, to think that he would sit through some stupid French flick with me."

You sank down into the loveseat in the middle of the room as your heart sank deeper into your heavy chest. Settling in to watch a movie that you wouldn't have chosen on your own. You were hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

The opening credits started to roll, and the story began to unfold. And quickly, to your surprise. There were subtitles, but you wanted to watch the story rather than read about it.

You're fairly certain that it was about a couple of people who knew nothing of each other or about sex. They experienced all the feelings that come with arousal and wanting another's touch. But they'd never *experienced* it themselves. Not under their own hand or someone else's. It was a sheltered existence they had before moving to the city.

There was one scene that will always stand out to you: They met by chance at a café.They reached for the sugared cinnamon to sprinkle on the foam of their cappuccino, and when their hands touched, neither one of them recoiled. They knew they had to be together come hell or high water. It was cheesy. But beautiful.

It was like because of touching the other person's hand, they finally belonged to this life. They were grounded by this single brush of skin. They were meant to be together.

They explored, touched, tasted their partner's body, and came to find that the only thing they'd been missing from their lives was the other person.

In the scene where they fully dive into their sexual awakening, you thought you heard someone stepping into the room. But you couldn't see anyone when you looked around, so you just turned your focus back to the film and watched these people devour one another.

They both gave of themselves and received everything physically possible. Some things you took note of. If nothing else, you could walk away from this with a few new tricks.

It left you in a frustrated state. Your hands dug into the soft fabric of the couch, and you shifted your weight often. You wondered for just a second what would happen if you spread your legs and slipped your fingers up under the long skirt you wore.

The movie and your feelings were bordering on pornographic. But you've always been a curious soul, so it didn't bother to see this. You were surprised that your professor had invited you to such a thing, though. How was that not crossing into misconduct?

You really didn't give a damn and pushed the thought to the back of your mind. The whole thing was quite beautiful, actually. Despite your growing frustration at Geto for not fulfilling his commitment to you. But no matter. You were no worse for the wear. What could have possibly happened with you two anyway.

Once the end credits came on the screen, you were sure there would be a wet spot on your skirt. You felt yourself filling with that familiar hot tension. Again. As if 3 orgasms just weren't enough for you to chase off the burning need.

You stood from your seat and put on your jacket before you walked out into the freezing night. As you turned around, your eyes zeroed in on a shadowed figure in the corner of the big room.

"Oh shhh–! Oh my god! You fucking scared me, professor! What the hell are you doing here ... now? The movie just ended." He stood up and seemed to glide across the floor to you. Like a vampire or something. He looked dark.

His hair was down; hanging over his shoulders and just a little in his face. But all he saw was you, standing there, trying to explain away your flushed skin as merely the frozen air that had slapped against your face.

Even though that was nearly 2 1/2 hours ago. It was not a good excuse. Nor were you very proud of it. "I'm glad you stayed to watch this," he said in a low tone. "I knew you'd watch it whether I was here or not."

"You mean, you ... you were here? The whole time, too? Why didn't you sit by me? Or, oh gosh, I dunno, at the very least say something to me?" He could see you were getting pissed at him.

Geto knew it was a little dirty to play with you this way. But he couldn't help himself. You are an adult. A big girl, even though you weren't wearing your big girl panties tonight.

"I wanted to study your reaction to the film. And from the looks of your rosy cheeks and dampened spot on your skir– well, imagine my surprise when I saw you enjoying this.

"My skirt and how wet it is OR isn't, isn't really any of your business. Is it? Pro– Geto?" You stopped yourself from calling him professor and called him by his name. It made you two closer to equals that way. Not teacher and student. Just horny woman and sexpot man.

"Oh. I see. So you're saying it's possible that your little cunt was squirming throughout these last 2 hours? And tell me, pretty girl, just what was it you imagined could tame the burning between your legs? Hm? Was it the toy you fucked yourself with earlier but imagined they were me? How many times did thinking of me make you cum? 3? 4?"

He snapped a black band from his wrist and threw his hair up in a careless bun. "Oh. Fuck," you thought. "This man is obsessed with me and stalking me and, and ..." Your thoughts trickled off as you realized how stupid you sounded thinking this garbage. He wasn't interested in you.

As relieved as you felt at that conclusion, you were also hit with a brief sadness that you were just another student to him. He's probably invited all kinds of people to cinema. You were no more special than the last.

"Relax, sweetheart. I don't have cameras set up in your bathroom watching you or anything. That would be tacky. I just know your type. You're easily scared."

You laughed at this.

"You get off to relieve tension and stress."

"Yeah? So? Who doesn't?" You shot back at him.

"Fair enough, fair enough." He looked amused by your argument. "Mm. Well, this is all very interesting. But it's time, once again, to watch, so sit down." He pointed to the place next to him.

You openly mocked him for ordering you around. "'Sit down? Sit," your laughter was spiteful. "Sit down. Oh-kay professor." There was that word again. "I've already seen the movie, thanks."

Geto reached up to take your hand and place it against his soft lips. He held it there for a moment and said, "Yes, but you haven't seen it with me." He rooted his dark eyes to yours and stuck the tip of his tongue between where your index and middle finger met. And licked you.

"Sit." And you did.

Wet pussy and all.

The movie has started, and all you want to watch is Geto. The man is beautiful. It made you almost angry about how beautiful he was.

30 minutes into it. He has kept to himself.

45 minutes into it, and his breathing hasn't even changed. But you're feeling the slick between your legs becoming more and more prevalent. Your skirt is getting the worst of it. You're not sure why you do this, but you uncross your legs. Hoping against hope that the way they were pressed together, the way they forced your pussy to rub on itself, would stop.

You were going crazy from this man's indifference.

1 hour into it, and you feel him turn and look at you. He readjusts himself on the plush seat and puts his hand on your knee.

You looked at him, thinking again of how the sharp tip of his wet tongue felt between your fingers. Your breath hitched for just a moment, and he took notice of the change in your demeanor.

Your body is no longer languid on the wide cushion beneath you. Geto wants you to relax while under his watchful eye. He wants to see you come apart at his fingertips. He wants to put you back together, too.

"Is this ok, pretty girl?" Geto asks in an almost too-quiet voice. He looks at you as shadows dance around the room. The couple in the movie has just discovered going down on one another. You watch them with an unwavering focus because if you don't, you're afraid you'll climb on your companions' face and suffocate him between your thighs.

"Mm. You're not comfortable with this. That's fine." He started to pull his hand back from your knee, and you turned your attention to him. Ready to protest his withdrawal, you stumble for your words. "I, I neh–" You clear your throat and try again. "Fuck! I never said that I wasn't comfortable with your hand on my knee. We're not in middle school, Geto. Put your hand on my fuckin' knee if you want to. It doesn't make any difference to me."

He cocked an eyebrow. "No? No difference at all. You're a bigger pain in the ass than I gave you credit for." He shook his head. "I think it's best if I just go. Would you like a ride home?"

"A ride home? Are you fucking kidding me?" You pulled his hand over and sat it on your lap. About 5 or 6 inches above where he'd originally positioned it before. "It ... does ..." You nearly choked on your words this time. "It does make a difference. Ok? OK? Happy now?"

Geto scooched a little closer to you so he could relax, and his hand would stay where you put it. He smiled. "I am. Thank you."

His hand was a double entendre. It made you wonder how something so presumably light could feel so heavy. Such a calming gesture, making you feel so wild.

Geto's right index finger began to draw small but deep 8's over your skirt into your skin. He could feel how warm your body was getting.

You're breathing heavily now. He leaned up and got much closer to you and reached up to brush one of your stray hairs aside like it was the whole reason for the sudden lack of oxygen to your brain.

1 1/2 hours, and his hand is the only thing holding you to this earth. You could sprout wings and fly away. You feel lighter, somehow. Even though he's tethered you here. Tied you to this couch that's seen god knows what. Will it get a new viewing of its own tonight, perhaps?

A particularly graphic scene comes up as you sit there next to Geto. You try to look away, but his grip on your leg tightens. You feel a wave of dizziness as his piercing eyes lock onto yours. "I didn't ask you to the movies with me so you could stare at the wall. Watch this. Learn. Listen. Why do you think that it's impossible to keep love and sex separate during the course of a relationship? And I'm not referring only committed ones.

"A sexual relationship doesn't have to be anything more than the expression of appreciation for someone's physical beauty." He continued. "Love usually runs deeper. To a person's soul. I mean, if you believe that people have souls."

You rolled your eyes. "I hate to play the sexist card. But leave it to a man – a really fucking attractive man, no less, to downplay the closeness that can resonate during sex. Lovemaking. Fucking. Call it what you want. But that's about as intimate as you can get with another person. And I think it's a really vulnerable posit–"

Geto started belly laughing. He lifted his hand from you to hold his flat stomach as he cracked up at your expense. "Listen to you. You sound like a virgin who's grown up watching only movies where there's a happy ending. A true happy ending with a knight in shining armor riding in on his unicorn steed carrying a single white rose because only the best for his untouched bride." He laughed another hard chuckle and looked back at your unamused face.

"You can be a real asshole, you know that." You said. "Just because I think that love AND sex go hand in hand doesn't mean I live for Disney movies. I'm well aware of the harsh realities surrounding love and sex. The way that people are lulled into a false sense of security. They give themselves fully over only to be kicked in the teeth and left on a curb holding a sign that says, 'I'm broken, but give me a chance. PS I'm a good cook, b‐t‐dubs.' And furthermore, it's no secret that the more invested a person becomes in their S/O, the more they turn themselves over to th—"

Geto leaned in and kissed you so lightly on your lips that were moving a thousand words a minute . "Who hurt you." He asked after pulling back. His smile was like a corrosive gel that you could slather on the most tarnished surface to get the ugly off.

You were surprised at how gentle his lips were against yours. You always imagined your time with him would be, well, not that tender. "W–what was that for?" Goddamn it. Why were you always suspicious of people who showed you any interest?

He was silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke, "I wanted to see what it would feel like." You scrunched up your face without even realizing it and asked him if he's ever kissed anyone.

"Are you fucking dumb? Of course I've kissed people. Many people. Men. Women. Any adult on the 'human' spectrum." He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. "Ahh. I wanted to see what it was like to kiss you. Ok?"

You thought about that for a moment before leaning over and kissing him again. Softly. Timidly. Sparingly. You were afraid to give too much of yourself to this man. Through kiss or otherwise. It would be too easy to become all consumed with him. You could see yourself vanishing in his wake.

"And that? What was that for?" He asked, staring at you through lustful eyes. You shrugged playfully.

You're not even watching the movie anymore. Really, there was not much point for both of you to sit through it again. You wouldn't forget about the story for a long while to come.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. "Prof–professor Geto ... I ... I ..." Your words were desperate. They almost came across as whines. You hoped he'd only note the neediness in your voice and not the pathetic way you're so touch starved.

"Yes, y/n? Tell me. Just ... just tell me." You ran your fingers down the back of his head, eliciting a heavy shiver as you sat down, straddling him. You could feel the bulge grow beneath your spread cunt. He reached to cup your breasts in his slow hands.

You dropped your forehead to his, and for a moment, you wondered if he knew you were bare under your skirt, save for the belt and your socks. You pooled your skirt up around your waist, exposing your thighs and ass. He does now, you thought.

Geto's hands fell to your legs, and he rubbed the soft skin heartily. He leaned forward and grabbed up the most round part of your ass cheeks, and pulled you closer to him. You could feel the slick gathering on his pants. The fabric covering his zipper began to feel tacky.

"Wha– do you wa–want, y/n? Tell me what you want ... from me." You let out a moan as he massaged and held your breasts. He licked around your nipples and nibbled at the mounds of hot flesh.

Your movements on top of him were becoming more and more focused. It was all you could do to not reach between your balanced bodies and denude his cock from its cloth prison. He let out a low moan as you started stroking your pussy against him harder. Your body quivered with pleasure as he tipped forward, putting his mouth on the outside of your ear.

"Do you want ... this?" He sat you down on the couch again and got down on his knees on the floor before you. Geto kissed from where your garter belt stopped on your right leg all the way around. He stopped to lick at your slick opening a few times before turning his attention back to your other thigh, continuing to kiss you there until he was met with the clasps on the opposite leg.

His hands slid easily under your twitching legs as he pulled you to the edge of your seat. "Watch me, not the movie. Understand, pretty?"

You brushed rogue bangs aside to see his face better. "Mmm .... mmhmm." You nodded almost maniacally as he began licking your clit with the focused tip of his tongue. It was all you could do to not slam your head back. It felt so good.

There was a gradually growing wet spot underneath you on the loveseat (now you see that it was ironically named). Geto started to taunt your opening with the tip of his finger. Your body jolted whenever he retreated despite him not really even entering you.

"What do you want, y/n?" You wished that you could talk. That you weren't such a fucking blubbering mess after he'd been going down on you for less than 5 minutes.

"Ah, I wan' – fffuck." You can't hold your head up any longer, so you lay it against the back, still eyeing him. "I want you ..." You manage to say the words clumsily. If your eyes were daggers, he'd have bled out by now.

"You got it." He knelt in front of you and spread your legs and pushed his hands under the long skirt.

He passes the clips on your thighs with his roaming hand. You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as you try to concentrate. Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself of the hours of preparation. You'd be damned if you weren't going to be rewarded for all of it.

"Do ... do you think anyone will come in?" You asked, suddenly aware you're on display right now."

Geto didn't answer. "Muhh." He was too focused on you. Whatever kind of answer that was. It made you wonder if he was just being agreeable or actually listening.

"Get‐Oh shiiiittt. Oh my god, y-yes. Hmmm..." You didn't remember there were other people on the planet right now. His face was completely buried between your thighs. You see now that he couldn't answer if he wanted to. And from the way he was devouring you, you knew assuring you wasn't at the top of his to-do list.

He went at you like you were an iceblock in the most stark desert. Licking you and sucking you into his mouth. His tongue swirling around your clit had you squirming out of his grasp.

It wasn't that you wanted to break his grip on you. But the feelings were so intense. All focused on one ... tiny ... spot.

"Oh god, Geto, I need ... fffuck. I haf'ta ... " Your words were failing you.

He sat up, licking his lips, smiling at you. His hair disheveled from your fingers, finding their way onto his head. "S' sweet, pretty."

He helped sit you up and sat down next to you. His eyes drunk on your body as he looked at your lips for a minute. The corners of your mouth turned upward slightly as you inched your way over to him.

"Scoot back," you told Geto. You got on your knees on the small couch and leaned over, resting on your elbows. He was so hard. You just wanted him inside of you so badly.

You rested just above his lap as you undid his belt, button, and zipper. He muttered something and moved to help you. "Uh-uh. It's my turn now." You said, and Geto laughed a little. "Who am I to argue."

You pushed his pants down to his knees and then gently, like you were holding a priceless artifact, pulled his thick cock out from his boxers.

You couldn't help but gasp a little as you held it. The way he watched you look it over made you feel nervous. Like you had never seen something like this before. His gaze remained on you as you closely inspected each vein and all the characteristics of it.

You brought the head to your lips and kissed it, immediately dragging a moan from Geto's throat. You've never been with someone who so easily gave themselves over to the sounds. If it were at all possible, you were turned on even more at his vocalizations.

There was no hurry here on your part, so you took things slowly. You were also hoping he had nowhere to be at 2 am.

Adjusting your position so you could rest on his thighs and still utilize your hands, you slipped and felt him hit the back of your throat. "F.U.C.K." You thought. "Does he know I slipped or does he think I'm just amazing?!"

You remembered your roommate telling you the crazy shit her and her boyfriend do. "Yeah, it's really simple once you get your breathing under control. When you master that, you could choke back an actual eggplant." She told you one night after she stumbled in half naked. You promised to take her to coffee as a thank you for her invaluable advice on the subject.

"Ho– holy shit, y/n. That, that's – oh fuck." Geto was restraining himself from thrusting upwards anymore. You were doing well enough on your own.

Bringing your right hand up, you wrap it around his length and begin to stroke him. Your mouth still holding the tip, you lick him with a flat tongue.

"Y/n y/n y/n, fuck ..." He sounds and feels like he's close. You can detect the slight contracting in your mouth when you touch him a certain way or roll him around in your hot, wet mouth.

Geto reached down and cupped your face in his hands. "S-s- M'gonna, hah, ." You sat up, your skirt still somehow held in place at your waist. Your upper legs are shiny from sweat and your juices mixing around.

Geto was lifting his hips off of the couch, and the hand he had on the back of your head was becoming more firm and careless in its grip.

You started breathing heavily through your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do.

You took him so far deep, so suddenly, that he let out a noise you were sure was a staple in his infancy.

He leaned forward a bit and grabbed your shoulder with his right hand, and softly put his left on your ear.

"Fuck, y/n. Fucking h– oh, mmhhm, ffffuckkk!" You felt the heat hit the back of your throat and you instinctually swallowed.

You sat up and wiped your face with your forearm. It took him a moment for him to regain his composure, but he was smiling at you like you'd told him the secret to a happy life.

"Y/n. Why are you just sitting there?" The question caught you off guard. "Was – was I supposed to go?" Geto extended his arm to you, and you took it.

He pulled you up onto his lap, and you let out a little squeak at how easily he hauled you over. "Geto ... what'cha, what'cha doin'?"

"Calm down." He chuckled before he settled back into his spot on the couch. He sat you down, straddling him again, but this time, his pants were down.

"C'mere, sweetheart." He pulled you close into him, and he kissed you. Geto's arms wrapped around your waist, and his large hands kneaded the muscles on your back.

You kissed each other so deeply and slowly that you never wanted to stop. Your tongues twist around, leaving you both breathless but unwilling to be the first to pull away.

His bottom lip trailed from your neck to your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. You let out a soft moan as his hands slid down your back.

You couldn't take the teasing you anymore. His cock was pressing into your wetness, practically begging to be swallowed up into you. "Geto ..." You tried to plead with his reasonable side. But he had no reasonable intentions right now.

Geto whispered in your ear, "You can have it all if you want." The temptation lingers to see how long you can dance over him like this. But ultimately, you sit down on him, taking his cock all the way inside of you.

Both of you throw your heads back, wildly different sounds erupting from your throats. Geto moaned deeply as you enveloped him. His skin was so hot to the touch. "Fuck Geto, ya feel s'good."

He raised your shirt above your chest and ran his thumbs over your nipples. "You're so fucking tight, y/n. Shit, I could – ah, fuck. I could cum right now."

You hastened your movements on him. The way his cock drags against your hot walls was clouding out the reality around you. "Mm–me t-to. Oh god, mmhmm. G'na cum!"

Geto slid his hand between your legs to rub your clit but he wasn't halfway with his reach when the two of you came together.

"Fuck, pretty girl." He lifted you up just enough to see him still inside of you. You looked down to see your body already letting go of the combined juices.

"Now, y/n. I have to ask. Do you love me? Or was that just sex?"

You laughed as your face turned a bright red. "I dunno. I think it's you who loves me."

Geto hooked his arms under your legs and flipped you onto your back on the couch. "Whoo! What're you doing!" You giggled and brushed his hair from his face.

"From a scientific perspective, I think this is going to require a lot of research."

You rolled your eyes, smirking. Geto lined himself up with you and eased his way in.

"For ... mm, ah ... for science!"

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

70 notes · View notes