#this might sound like. i'm bored w long movies. THAT'S NOT IT I CAN TAKE A LONG MOVIE

[ambreiiigns]

I'M WATCHING TERRIFIER IT'S ONLY ONE HOUR AND 24 MINUTES!!!!!! LET'S FUCKING GOOOO BABYYY THAT'S THE SHIIIIT

[whumpcloud]

Red Room - Mine

content: creepy/intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, kidnapping, filmed whump, threat of future torture, restraints, gagging, implied threat of noncon but it won't happen/it's not really stated, pet names, begging, noncon kissing, manhandling, choking, whumpee tells whumper to kys

Jack wakes to a light bulb.

Back and forth. Back and forth. His fluttering eyes follow it for a moment, trying to focus. He tries to move, but his limbs feel leaden, and all it does is make him softly whimper at the leather biting into his skin.

Leather.

Jack's eyes widen and he snaps his head to the side. He's flat on his back on a wooden table, tightly strapped by his wrists and ankles and throat. Bile burns his mouth.

A door slams open and Jack lets out a small scream into his gag, into the cloth gag shoved inside his mouth and tied tightly around his head. He hears a laugh.

"Aw, baby boy…"

A face appears, framed by the flickering light, long black hair tickling the sides of Jack's face. The man grins.

"Heya, cutie," he says, soft, almost soothing. "No need to scream, okay? If you keep doing that, I'll let you scream yourself hoarse. And if you don't, I'll take off the gag and let you ask some questions. I'm sure you've got some, yeah?"

Jack exhales harshly through his nose, tears forming in his eyes, and nods.

"Alright." The man gently tugs the gag from Jack's mouth, and uses the free moment of Jack swallowing his spit to speak. "Don't try begging, by the way. No, I'm not gonna let you go, yes I'm gonna hurt you, no there's nothing you can do about it. Now ask a sensible question, okay, baby?"

Jack's head spins. He remembers walking home, he remembers the sound of the car door opening and being shoved inside, the man straddling his lap and whispering softly as he was sedated. Only in a haze, but he remembers.

"W-Who are you?" Jack finally says, voice more of a whimper than he means it to be. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Matthew Seung." He grins. "I'm just a content creator. And I'm gonna do… whatever the audience wants, really."

"Th-The audience?" Jack's heart becomes a pit in his stomach.

"Oh, yeah, they're gonna love you, sweetheart." Matthew's fingertips come to Jack's jaw, tilting it to the side. "You have to know how pretty you are. Very photogenic. And your eyes, baby boy, goddamn."

Jack flinches and lets out a soft whine when Matthew trails his fingers around Jack's eyes and over his cheekbones.

"I'll set some rules, obviously," Matthew says, lilting and gentle. "No damage to your face, nothing too permanent, but anything else goes. They might wanna cut you up. Boring, but doable. Maybe break a couple fingers, or let you almost drown, something like that."

Matthew playfully taps Jack on the nose.

"I'm not very creative," Matthew says. "That's why I leave it up to the viewers."

Jack bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood and contorts his face with the effort of refusing to cry.

"Ohhh…" Matthew sighs happily. "Go on, cry, lemme see you cry. I bet it'll be just adorable."

"S-Stop, please," Jack whispers. "Don't, please, please don't do this to me…"

"Shh, shh." Matthew runs his hand through Jack's hair. "I can't help it, baby boy. I don't find someone like you every day. Really, I'm surprised you didn't get nabbed before, looking the way you do. You got lucky."

"Lucky?" Jack shivers at Matthew's touch. "How is this lucky?"

"Oh, I know plenty of creepies who'd bid for you," Matthew grins. "I'm pretty tame, all things considered. If you were put with someone who was really sadistic, well, they might not even care if you died on camera. Not to mention what would happen behind the scenes to break you in. Nah, you're very lucky you got me instead."

"B-Bid-" Jack squeezes his eyes shut. This isn't real, this is something that happens in movies, not to real people, not to him. "Bid for me?"

"Yeah, I could easily sell you on, baby boy," Matthew chuckles. "Do you have any idea what people would pay for a face like yours? God, you're so fucking pretty. You're really lucky I admire you so much. I could sell you to someone who'd make a real mess of you."

That's when the dam breaks, and a wretched sob forces its way out of Jack's throat. Matthew laughs, and there's a click as a camera turns on.

"Sorry, baby boy, I gotta capture this," Matthew says, throwing his hood over his head and pulling a scarf up to his mouth. "God, you see that? Gonna love you."

"Stop it!" Jack snaps, though it holds no energy coming through tears. "S-Stop it, just let me go, I'm fucking begging you, please!"

Matthew rolls his eyes and whistles softly. "Told you I wasn't gonna do that already."

"I can pay you!" Jack tries, desperately pulling at his bindings. "P-Please, my family's rich, they'll- they'll give you whatever money you want!"

Matthew laughs so hard he has to put a hand against the wall and vaguely apologise to the camera for how loud he is.

"You hear that?" Matthew circles around so that he's crouching out of Jack's sight, just behind his head. "My new work of art thinks I'll let him go for money."

Matthew chuckles, and leans up, gripping Jack's face between his hands. He's so close that Jack can feel Matthew's hair on his forehead. His eyes glitter. Excited. Hungry.

"I'm doing this for fun, silly. For the attention. And you, baby boy"–Matthew presses his fingers against Jack's lips–"are gonna be my star."

Jack can't find any more words to say. What is there to say? This man wouldn't let him go for all the money in the fucking world, because he's cute when he cries and his only worth is looking good in front of a camera.

Matthew wrenches Jack's head toward the camera, curling his fingers into Jack's hair.

"You wanna tell them your name, baby boy?" Matthew coos, and the scarf does nothing to hide that he's grinning.

"J-Jack." His voice isn't more than a croak. "Jack Mitchell."

Matthew stops. Completely and utterly stops.

"Say that again," Matthew says, disbelief in his tone, just loud enough to be heard.

"Jack Mitchell," Jack squeaks.

"I fucking knew I recognised you!" Matthew lets go of him and claps in delight. "Kid of Killian Mitchell? Like, for real?"

Jack nods silently. People recognise him often enough, but not really for him, just for his father. He hasn't done any acting in recent years, and he doesn't look enough like his younger self to be recognised for those roles. So his father drags him out at events, pretties him up for the red carpets and the charity balls and tugs at the back of his collar where nobody can see the moment he says a word wrong.

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Matthew's voice is growing frantically giddy. "You're perfect, you're so, so perfect. The views. I'm never gonna be this popular again."

"Fucking kill yourself," Jack hisses.

"Spicy baby boy." Matthew reaches under the table and pulls at something, and Jack gags as the leather around his throat sharply tightens. "You wanna say that again?"

Jack's vision pulses at the edges and he whines. It's tight, but not so tight that he can't breathe at all. Just to hurt.

He's here just to hurt.

"Fuck…" Matthew lets out a breathy laugh. "This is gonna make such a good intro video. You know just how to behave in front of a camera, yeah?"

He does, he knows exactly how to behave, he's behaved for the cameras his entire life, buried every part of himself to look however they want him and that's exactly what Matthew wants out of him too.

Jack takes in a ragged breath the moment the buckle loosens, and lets it back out with a scream. He doesn't know why, and Matthew doesn't stop him.

Matthew just regards him with nothing more than mild amusement.

The end of the scream comes sooner than Jack thought it would, and he coughs, phlegm trapped in the back of his throat. He's still crying, can't stop crying.

"You tire yourself out already, baby boy?" Matthew asks. "Adorable. Lemme turn the camera off."

Click.

Jack lays limply as Matthew unbuckles him and lifts him up. His head throbs. Matthew carries him out of the dimly lit room, into an entirely dark one, that Matthew easily navigates through and sits down on top of a mattress, holding Jack around the waist.

"Relax now, baby boy," Matthew whispers. "You can relax now. It's just us."

Matthew presses a soft kiss to the back of Jack's neck, and smiles when Jack flinches away.

"You're so cute," Matthew says, gripping Jack's jaw with his other hand. "I gotta keep you. I'll take care of you off-camera, promise."

"Are you going to kill me?" Jack whispers. "W-When you're done with me?"

Matthew hums, as though he hadn't considered that. Kisses Jack's neck again, then his jaw, then his temple. Jack lets him, because he isn't stupid enough to think that these soft words and touches are anything but a thin layer over a man who has so clearly done this before and felt nothing more than delight.

"Nah," is the eventual answer. "The audience will get bored of you quicker than I will. And I can bring you back out to spice things up. Nah. I'm not gonna waste your pretty li'l face like that."

Matthew kisses him again, at the corner of his mouth, and lingers.

"Keep you for myself," he murmurs. "Yeah. Couldn't let you go to someone else."

Jack keeps still, as the hand on his waist traces upwards along his chest, slips just underneath his sweater to feel the ridge of his collarbone. The scars on Matthew's hands tell stories - teeth marks on his thumb, a faded knife wound through the palm, crescent shaped marks like nails cutting into the skin. If they were from innocent sources, Jack would be surprised. He's not the first, but the others fought.

It's an odd comfort. He'll stay alive, in the videos of him pleading and the reminders of his suffering on his captor's skin, even if he isn't quite here when Matthew's done with him, even if he doesn't figure out how to get the upper hand and escape.

Jack jams his elbow into Matthew's ribs, and the man's only reaction is to pin Jack's arms to his sides. Not even a sound of pain or annoyance.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you, baby boy," Matthew sings. "How about you just let me hold you, huh? Just wanna hold you. Fuck, I think I love you."

Matthew starts murmuring to himself again. Jack doesn't catch most of it, just a vague impression of the word: "Mine."

[letitrainathousandflames]

Did the bathroom stall person STAY a stranger?

N-S-F-W and definitely TMI content ahead lmao:

He did, the poor fellow! Here's some backstory to explain how on earth my shy-as-hell dumbass worked the courage to have some bathroom stall shenanigans:

So I started dating this classmate in highschool, (the one I often refer to as "the deceased" bc he's dead to me) and he was a major asshole. Emotionally abusive, controlling, made me feel bad about literally every single thing I enjoyed, especially writing fanfiction and not being a boring piece of shit like he was.

Welp! I spent like a decade with this bastard bc he was a classic abusive dickhead who pushed my friends away and I couldn't see that he was a major asshole until I started therapy. When I was 26 my therapist, clever lady she was, knew I was suffering but also v attached to him still, so she suggested us to "take a break". Not breaking up, just take a break, for one month, and reevaluate the relationship.

I spent a long time moping over him but my bestie said "wait does that mean I can finally take you clubbing?" and I proceeded to have an absolute blast dancing and having fun with her!

The second time we went clubbing, it was a star wars themed party! I went as a cute padmé amidala, and spent the night dancing and watching snippets of SW movies that played on the big screens, explaining to my very confused bff who's never watched a star war in her life why I was attracted to the angry looking alien with horns and red skin w/ black tattoos - darth maul. She remained confused.

(Fun fact, I'm autistic and loud environments make me literally sick, but I think I needed this freedom so badly my brain let me have these moments for once. Now I literally cannot enter a club. Anyway.)

While we're dancing, a handsome clone-trooper looking type walked past us and I think I gave him such an eye-fucking of a look that he made a beeline to me and took me to dance (I gave a thumbs-up to my bff bc she is v protective and will push creepy dudes away from me, bless her).

Then we started kissing and fooling around in a corner, and the guy invited me over to his place.

(here's the thing, my ex literally acted like sex was a chore. I repeatedly, gently asked him whether he was asexual, promising to be okay with it if it was the case but he swore he wasnt which. made me feel like I was very unappealing and did a number on my self-esteem. Oof.)

So I was pent up as hell and desperate for a fuck, especially a fuck with an enthusiastic guy for once in my life. On the other hand, girls that go with strangers to their place might be raped or killed. So when I said no, the guy suggested we fucked in the bathroom.

Now, that wouldn't be proper ladylike behavior, i reasoned with myself, while fully cupping the guy's groin with my hand. So I said a very unconvincing no, and the guy asked if I was sure, and I said "we might be caught", and he said "not if we're quiet"

...and goddamnit I was so damn horny and I can't even blame it on being drunk bc I don't drink alcohol out bc it makes me sleepy. This was 100% horny brain in charge and I was the one to actually pull the guy into the bathroom with me.

(We're gonna fade to black here bc I'm not willing to share those details here, but I can point out the funny bits):

there wasn't enough room in that bathroom stall for someone to pee comfortably, much less for two people to squeeze in and do the horizontal vertical tango

if you ever wanna do that, do that early in the night, not after dancing for hours because your knees will want to buckle the entire time and that's not hot

be smart and have condoms in your bag. wrap it up, folks. it's the 21st century and everyone who's sexually active should have their protection regardless of gender or lack thereof <3

the sound of toilets flushing nearby is quite the mood-killer, but if the music drowns out most of it, one can make it work

do not laugh when your very worried friend who's been looking for you all night calls out your name in the bathroom, trying to find you

Tell her you'll be right out and try to wriggle out of the arms of the dude who seems to have fallen in love with you or something.

Thank you for the fun times, catch his phone number or contact info of any kind

loudly announce you and the friend are both leaving to give the poor fella hidden in a stall in the lady's bathroom a window of time to escape unseen

forget you had his contact info for three months bc you are ADHD, aaand now it's too awkward to send a text of 'hey its bathroom stall girl, how's it going?'

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary142

2/3-4/2024

my weekend begins #now.

i started it with a damon packard movie, foxfur, a friend sent me it and i was like, entranced by it. really great movie, feels like it gets at the precarity/nightmarishness of the world atm and all ways people cope, especially w/ new age weirdo stuff. so oddly on with that, all the way back in 2012.

otherwise, my day was okay, my work note:

stuck there too long, one kid tried to scam me and it was so obvious and bad, insanely stupid attempt. the rides are scary, someone almost lost their phone, but mostly, dull. i didn't get to take a break.

i did work on music but i'm too exhausted/spaced out to get to the next song, i've just been fiddling with the last one, the issue w/ it is that in order to get it more disgusting sounding in the distortion/how it distorts, i need to figure something out, and the fiddling/ solutions i've come up with are a bit flabby sounding i guess, coming back to them. the flab is in the lack of sharpness. something weird needs to happen or whatever. might need to go back to the guitar fixing thing for the right channel sound, i've started messing with some octave effects, but there may be something else i need to try too, maybe a re-done effects chain in parts. idk. i'll see how this export comes out where i boost some of the highs in each separate track.

did something where i went and eq-ed out the ugliest signals solo, seems to have worked in a first pass but i forgot to turn some stuff back on. i also decided to change something in the master. it's impressive to me how much stuff regarding guitar sounds/tones online is so useless and how boring most people want to be.

having thoughts now, about ai, that's how you know i've been up too late. here's my new whacko theory about it, or i guess i can't present it from there, immediately, here's the source of the thought, seeing the cover art for zazen boys ii, and the illegibility of it, basically, its failure to say zazen boys ii in a way that's immediately readable. it's willfully against being read, it's a mess, it's beautiful, it's a typographic explosion, it looks like several different languages slammed together, congealed. i don't think it's important it was done by a human or whatever but i think what it is, is something that fails at what you'd expect, and what you'd want from what is basically an advertisement to get people to blindly buy something, or that's what cover art is when viewed from the perspective of not caring about the music. many times, they are related, but it's positive also with the selling/potential to get someone to loo, i think maybe this is is only worth thinking about because zazen boys are a japanese band and cd sales are still hugely important over there, because piracy is so scary for them. for anyone who steals the vast majority of music, it's more freely interrelated to the music/meaning of the music, it's something that is liked and connected with in that way. this is an aside. basically the other thing is it reminded me of what those neural nets or whatever they are now, do when they try to write something in an image. signs, anything. it bugs me when people act like ai is novel, is what i think i'm feeling lately. it's a lot of futurists basically taking up a fetishistic desire to point at something as new, a new method, a new field of potentiality, a new capability for people to adopt, maybe flatly, it increases our ability, for them, and so this novelty in technology revitalizes art, but these things only scrape and congeal, they do it at a scale that people cannot, because they can remember more, with their monologic weighting and construction of meanings as largely singular and not fluid. people may bring the nature of ai writing which does get rather figurative and strange, but so does any good writer, it rarely produces sentences i think nothing else could produce, it just feels like a lot of excitement over the fact that capital has now moved into the territory of the illegible, it creates nonsense information, it absorbs centuries of ways of writing and sequences them, somehow, this is enough to some people to seem better than all fiction currently produced. a strangely eugenic approach to art, we seem to have arrived at in recent times, where people are quick to say, this is the end of everything, this makes anyone doing the same thing unnecessary, there is not vitality in (x), there is no hope for anything new in (x). a sickness over novelty, it is so purely and psychotically spectacular, it should be seen as special i guess how even people who act outside/above this get very wrapped in it, or act like it is real. i can never see or feel how it's real. i don't know why. is that wrong of me?

i know people who find ai to be very exciting, but when i see what they think of it, all i feel is that really what they want is to be the manager of creative work, and ai is finally a worker they can have. it's not about freeing up who can make things, the novelty is the fantasy it sells, the fantasy of not having to communicate with others in the creation of something, and the feeling that you are communing with some vast well of meaning. in short, you are enabled to be a creative director, you direct an image making, text spewing machine, a machine which has absorbed meaning/constructs meaning in a way that snuffs out the negative, there is never lack, it is a system of pure success, it is eugenically improving itself always, at least this is my read on it, creating memories / facts / linkages that are essentially a kind of super-infrastructure for information. this is totally opposite to the waste-products created in our mind, which we trip over, and months of not considering them, surface, corpses in rivers, eggs which never spawned, and now gleaming and bobbing, they seem pearls you may fashion into something terrible, and carry it for the rest of your life, with a special sort of love. the value of failure, and waste, is in that, spoken more i guess, directly, it is that when you are shut up in yourself, mute, and when you cannot find the words, something else comes to you, and when you cannot explain yourself, you are something else, you are fallen between words. a.i cannot fall between, it cannot be anything but the sun, not as solar anus, not as the life-expelling force bataille describes, but the implement of measurement via shadows cast, a ruler set to earth, set to voice and thought to collect data and surveil, a system perfected, something that can encapsulate some of the world.

our next cybernetic apparatus of agitation and gentle discomforts. it will not think for us, it will make us think we think as it does, and thus we will chase the capability, ability to conclude, be read, and to read, falling for the novelty, and whatever.

this isn't to say though, it's utterly useless. ai should probably be used in pointless clerical data entry work, and i don't especially care if some people steal pokemon with it. the palworld thing is so weird because people should be wigged out that people are just getting super into something that seems like ark or whatever. that awful game with the dinosaurs. survival game slop, you do not need anything other than minecraft.

okay i think i got the problem song pretty good. right guitar needs something though... idk what. maybe it's missing some frequency from something i notched.

re-exporting now.

i think it sounds really good now, i hope i feel that way tomorrow. i also just made a new guitar sound thing. i am up too late but at least i'm having fun.

this has too much white noise in it but idk, it's kind of cool, also.

anyway i need to sleep now, or soon, at least, so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!

[1001albumsrated]

#16: Billie Holiday w/ Ray Ellis & His Orchestra - Lady in Satin (1958)

Genre(s): Jazz Vocals, Big Band

Billie Holiday, of course, should need no introduction. Lady in Satin, however, is best understood in context. It's the final album released in her lifetime, and the penultimate in her discography. One year after its release in June 1958 she would be on her deathbed with liver failure, handcuffed and under police surveillance in her hospital room following her arrest for narcotics possession during her stay (she had been regularly targeted by the federal government and law enforcement since the success of Strange Fruit), her body wracked by decades of substance abuse and hard living. She'd been abused and mistreated by just about every man in her life, and her estranged husband Louis McKay, a mobster, was no exception; she would go on to die the next month with only 70 cents in her bank account on account of him claiming more and more of her earnings over the few years they were married. She was only 44.

By the time of recording Lady in Satin she and McKay were already separated, and her health had noticeably deteriorated. She was, by all accounts, already dying, and I think had been for a long time. I write all this out not to add drama to the story, but because Billie's lifetime of struggles and suffering are so incredibly present and raw on this album. All of her music has an honesty and an intensity to it, but it really comes to a head on Lady in Satin. This is one of those rare, haunting albums that is so incredibly laden with real grief and sorrow that it's genuinely hard to listen to at times. It isn't just the sorrow that gets me on this album; it's the tiredness, not a bored tired or a sleepy tired, but a deep-seated tired that sets into your bones and says "I don't know how much longer I can do this". Her voice sounds old and weary beyond her years on these tracks in a way that I find profoundly heartbreaking. I'm not one to get misty-eyed at sad songs or the ends of movies, but there's just something about this album that punches you right in the gut.

I was about to start writing a conclusion, and then I realized I haven't said a damn word about the actual music on this album. The arrangements are fairly standard for this sort of orchestral big band jazz vocal album. Ray Ellis keeps things minimal and the band stays mostly out of Billie's way, which is absolutely the correct choice when dealing with this kind of powerhouse vocalist. I think with a different vocalist (a Frank Sinatra or the like) the arrangements might come off as overly sentimental, but with Billie they feel completely appropriate. I'm not really one for the big stringy orchestra sound, but it feels right on this one.

I probably don't need to say it after all that, but yes you MUST hear Lady in Satin before you die. My only note here is that it's a massive blunder for the 1001 Albums authors to not also include Lady Sings the Blues; Strange Fruit, in my opinion, is one of the most important songs ever recorded. It's an emotionally challenging listen, but an essential one, and unfortunately one that still carries an enormous amount of weight today. Anyways, this album is a must-hear without a doubt. If you're like me you probably won't listen to it often but you'll be damn glad you heard it.

Coming up next: we take a hard left turn into folk with Ramblin' Jack Elliott's Jack Takes the Floor!

Also I couldn't find a great place tonally to slip in this tidbit, but I listened to this in hi-res on Qobuz. I probably should own a nice copy of it, but it's one of those albums in the A Crow Looked At Me camp of music I love but mostly avoid because I know damn well it will make me feel some type of way. Also, I guess I'll bitch about this more in the distant future when we get to the 2010s, but goddamn where the fuck is A Crow Looked At Me on this list? It's one of the most deeply upsetting and emotional albums out there and is without a doubt something everyone should hear, but I guess they needed more room for Arcade Fire records or whatever. Fuck.

[crystallineirises]

Golden Globes Live Blog (SPOILERS)

Every single man speaking so far has been irrelevant

I am also *super* stoned right now let's get that out of the way

J. Smith Cameron looks so good first of all (shout out to the Slime Puppy discord for those early photos)

Danielle should take it for black people but I would not be mad for May/December lol

...YAY BLACK WOMEN GO SIS literally haven't heard of the Holdovers but I'm THRILLED and she got to meet Angela oh MAN

*may/december music* IDK anything about RDJ on to the nex

Lenny Kravitz looks HOT it transcends my lesbianism

is that Amanda?? She looks emaciated i hate that unless it's not her which is possible, i didn't unmute in time

JUNO GET IT SIS

Lol Rachel's selfie headshot

Can Ali win it for us YEAH SHE DID

Seventeen years away from the stage lol

Don't know these people on to the nex

wait is that the boy that was on This is Us? The Manny? What the hell is his name oh it doesn't matter

I feel like Jon might take it? Just sensing?

A SWEEP! A SWEEP!

*May/December music*

HERE WE GO IT'S J'S CATEGORY

This is bullshit lol

That deep breath J. took before they announced the winner I SAW THAT AND I FELT THAT

Hannah Waddingham's wink though

My mom "why is everyone's eyes red" LOL CAUSE THEY HIGH AS ME but seriously Ray

This show could be 1 hour without all this bullshit lol

Our other babies let's goooooo

Lol Lucas ain't here

Tom winning the show winning the company winning the Golden Globe

YES THEY LET KIERAN IN AND IS HE NEXT TO J wait no they didn't lol there's someone between them why can't we win

HERE WE GO this category is full of superstars it could go either way I am nervous

YES YES AND YES Jeremy is kinda fine with his lil v neck and his lil subtle chain

These intros are so fucking LONG I do not CARE

I need to smoke so more but I'm waiting until after Kieran's category lol

I love when a movie wins several things and I'm still like..that still looks boring

I can only hope that she just thanked Snoop Dogg lol

Women in comedy on tv let's get into it YUH

AYOOOOOOO it's Ayo AYOOOOOO SWEEP NUMBER TWOOOO

OKAY BABY

MANIFEST even though it's stacked

WE GOT ONE

MY BABY

SUCK IT PEDRO

MY HEART

I AM TOO HAPPY ABOUT THIS

*May/December music*

Do you think that getting super high and watching the Super Mario movie would be fun yes or no

Yeah that makes sense

That love and support look WAS very loving and supportive though

I feel loved and supported

Hey Michelleeee

I like when women walk out holding hands

"and very MUSCULAR" is this gay is this gay

This is gay lol

*May/December music*

Everyone is happy for her like they're friends it's very cute lol

Also love that dress she looks adorable

"okay bye" she was real for that

This Oppenheimer sweep is boring to me but my mom says he's a good actor also this score sounds GOOD

Oh I see that win cause it sound GOOD

This boy looks like every experimental electronic music grad student we used to party with

LENNY still looking fine

Billie got this, right?

Yeaaaaahh boi

THIS AWARD IS DUMB YEAH I SAID IT

Otherwise Barbie wasn't gonna win shit but we like having fun lol

Okay smoked another bowl we BACK IN IT

ISSA IS SHININ

BEEF SWEEP BETWEEN THE BEAR AND BEEF ISSA BEEF SWEEP

it's getting SERIOUS

SWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEPPPPP

"it's so good it's so good. it's one of those shows you watch and while you're watching it it's like...it's so good". - crystallineirises on The Bear

SEEING THE WHOLE CAST UP THERE I WANNA CRY

the restaurant COMMUNITY *snap snap*

i'm so high bruh lol my mom keeps talking to me and i'm like *LOUDLY TALKS ABOUT SHOWS*

she talmbout drapes i do not care hehehe

OH LORD IT'S SARAH'S CATEGORY

CAN WE JUST GET TO IT

Does she have a crush on DuLaPeep can she stop

SARAH WE GON DO THIS

SHIV ROY NATION

MANIFEST

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

EMMY PREP IS DONE

I thought Kieran was gonna climb up there

WE GETTING FUCKED UP TONITTTEEEE

I love that we're following her backstage lol

I hope they let all our babies go on stage I wanna see J. looking hot

WHAT A TIME THAT WAS (era of Succession Sunday)

HAND KISS FOR THE AGES

THANK YOU FOR THAT

J Move your way to our man please

Where he at

Alan Ruck is SMIZING

We do like Roman and Shiv reunited

Greg get outta here

lol TomGregs winning

J IS SO BABY

The Morning Show girlies looking so goooooooood

Jeremy and his lady getting it ON who is that

I do like Kelly Clarkson's wayfair jumpsuit lol

I'm stoned enough that I'll let the commercials play without muting

*May/December music*

get it get it get it get get geti

this j. lo / ben / matt throuple energy is strong??

THE GOLDEN GLOBES HAVE NOT CHANGED *dead emoji*

Wonka got a nomination what

Black man for the win i guess

Paul's alright, does he win stuff? Ah he's won things

Okay where are the afterparty photos THE AFTERPARTY PHOTOS

NICE. Kid graduated from college? NICE.

WOMEN!

GAY WOMEN!

LOOKIN DYKE SERVING CUNT I LOVE IT

I love that Matt and Ben are just like we besties that make movies *kick legs in the air*

MAY/DECEMBER *music*

Also the choice to enter May/December as a comedy is outrageous

Bruce Springsteen is Joni Mitchell for white men and I love it

"Powerful old people" - crystallineiries after seeing Helen Mirren and Harrison Ford talking

"If it's Covid, Paxlovid. BARS!"

I've only seen Maestro so idk lol

YAY CURVY GIRLS

YAY MOMS YAY NON ENGLISH LANGUAGES

I wanna see Leo cry I want single tear

FOR THE PEOPLE

Her beautiful mother *crying emoji*

wooooooowww

MOTHER OTHER MOTHER SISTER AND FRIEND

The makeup and glasses and dress she's everything

I miss hearing her voice all the time

Maestro really was so good

A24 putting in work this year

Sweep SWEEP people like things that go boom

Like your fit Emma!

HANNAH

Meryl looks gorge as usual

Emily SHINING TOO

It's after 8 can we wrap this shit up??

Thank you good night *peace sign emoji*

[yesimwriting]

could u do something about stu being sweet w the reader after something making jokes but she’s being sensitive and he realises she needs sweetness from him

ofc i can!! i love stu sm, even though the oldest daughter of an immigrant household in me would fr be fighting with him every two seconds lmao

also part 5 of final girl is coming, she's just big😭 and my homework levels are insane and i don't want it to feel rushed, and these drabbles/fics are easier to get out during weeks like this!! but i'm working!

warnings: bit of toxicity tbh (expected tho lol), mentions of Billy bc they're a matching set in my mind lol, but it's brief and his role in the relationship is pretty open I think, pinch of manipulation, cheesiness lol

----

Sometimes the way you care about people gets under Stu's skin, like a bug bite that he can't scratch because it's on the inside.

He doesn't hold it against you, or at the very least, he really tries not to. But sometimes, when you get like this on the behalf of other people...

Stu lets out a low sigh as he shoves his hands into his pockets. When he first realized that you had locked your window, he had briefly tried to not jump to worst case scenario. Maybe you weren't that mad, maybe the early fall draft kept blowing the window open, or maybe you were out with Sidney and Tatum. But no, the tightly shut window was intentional.

After knocking on your front door and being greeted by your mother, Stu had learned that you had just been in the kitchen, complaining about being bored.

"You're actually that mad at me?"

At the sudden intrusion, you snap your head back, the chair in front of your desk moving back slightly with the motion. Your panic lasts for less than a second and is quickly replaced by a small sigh and an eye roll.

"Stu, you nearly gave me a heart attack." It's not the first time that you've scolded him for that. Despite his typical energy and tall frame, he can maneuver like a cat when he wants to. "I-I locked the window, how are you even in here?"

He leans against your doorway, angling his head so that he's looking at your dresser instead of at you. There's something about your room that's just so you. It's comforting and sometimes overwhelming if he hasn't gotten off in too long.

He could spend an entire afternoon looking through your drawers and sampling your perfumes and lotions. He actually did that one Friday you slept over at Tatum's.

Stu shifts his gaze, his eyes meeting yours. You're trying to be harsh, he can see it in the slight draw of your eyebrows. It's endearing, especially with the stubborn almost pout of your lips. Sometimes when you're mad all Stu can think about is kissing you.

"Your mom told me to go ahead and let myself into your room," he mumbles, pushing away from the doorway as he steps entirely into the room, "You might be mad at me, but she's not."

Your eyes narrow a little at that. You know that Stu knows exactly what he's doing. "Well, she shouldn't have." You scratch the back of your wrist, trying your best to avoid Stu's gaze. "I'm doing homework."

"She said you were bored."

"History homework tends to do that."

Stu takes another step forward. You move your hand, gripping the back of your desk chair. When it comes to staying mad at Stu, physical distance is your only ally. The closer he gets, the less your brain functions.

"You said your history homework wasn't due until next week." Another step forward, the skin over your knuckles strains. "You can't be that mad at me." He continues to walk further into your room until he's so close to your desk chair that he has to turn his head down to look at you. "Let's just watch a movie or something. I'll let you pick."

His piercing gaze cuts straight through you. You can barely breathe. You drop your gaze in order to be able to get your thoughts out. "No, I said I wasn't talking to you."

Even in your own ears your words sound weak. Stu, already feeling his victory, reaches forward. He takes your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, tilting your head up so that he's inescapable. "All of this over a few things I said to Randy? I was joking, he knows I was." When your frown doesn't go away, Stu lets out a sigh, "If it means that much to you, next time I see him I'll give him a joint or something and we'll be even. Promise."

You lean back, pressing your spine into the side of your desk. "It's not really about Randy, y'know." You inhale, thinking through your words carefully. Stu takes your reproaching well as long as you don't cross any invisible lines. "You can't just say what you want about people. It hurts their feelings, and you might forget about it after a second, but that person doesn't."

Stu blinks, an oddly uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. You genuinely care so much about how other people feel. Everyone. Even people you don't know.

Thinking about it too much makes him uneasy. It makes him feel like anything he feels for you is so much more than anything you could ever feel for him. You consider everyone's feeling, he can only bring himself to worry about how you and Billy are feeling.

He forces himself to back away from you. Stu moves to sit on your bed. Safe distance. The thought is mainly subconscious but that doesn't stop it from rolling in his stomach. He likes to think that he wouldn't actually hurt you over something this small, but he refuses to take the chance when it comes to you. Even more so when Billy isn't around as some kind of silent assurance.

"I thought that the other woman was supposed to be less of a pain in the ass. You're cute, sweetheart, but at least Tatum knows when to drop something."

Out of all the things he could have said, that stung the most. And he knows it. Your relationship exists in a world of in-betweens. You didn't like the idea of being some kind of side piece, especially the side piece to one of your best friend's boyfriends. But you guys never figured out how to stay away from each other.

Stu had spent so much time swearing to you that things were different than they looked. He promised time and time again that his real feelings are for you, that you were it for him, and that he couldn't just blow off Tatum for the sake of the group. With everything going on, with Sidney still grieving, it'd be selfish to risk it all over feelings.

By keeping your thing together secret, you were protecting everyone's feelings while still not breaking your own hearts.

But that single comment burned it all away. You were just starting to believe him, and now... "Really?" The word is pointed, but nowhere near as violent as you want them to be. "You really don't care about anyone's feelings but your own." Your eyes feel teary. "I'm such an idiot because I-I defend you when people say things like that about you, and I'm always thinking that it's just that they don't know you like I do. But they're right--you're--" None of the words that come to mind feel harsh enough, so you decide to just be honest, "You're mean."

Stu blinks as everything you've said settles into his chest. A rare, fleeting touch of a feeling some might have labeled as guilt stabs at him. He crossed a line, and now you’re looking at him in a way you never have before. And your eyes...fuck, your eyes are so wide and glassy. You're about to cry.

He had dealt with your anger before. Petty, teasing anger, sure, but still--anger. Stu could handle that. He knows what to do when you push him away and pout and even knows what to do when you curse at him. But this, this is so much worse than any of that.

You're more hurt than angry and Stu hates it. He hates that he doesn't know how to fix it. He hates that a part of him wishes that Billy was here, he'd be able to smooth this over and get you to stop looking like that.

"Not true," Stu finally manages, his voice nearly wavering at the shocking amount of honesty in it, "I care about someone's feelings."

You shift in your seat, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, your own." Stu watches expectantly as you squeeze your hands together on your lap. "You should go."

"No," Stu stands, "I'm not leaving you like this." Before you can register what's happening, Stu is by your side, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it, I just--" He can't put it into words, and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to express it to you without making you want to call a psychologist. "I'm sorry. You know how I feel about you."

With a sigh, you look up at him. "Stu, go." You stand up, forcing him to let go of you as you start walking towards your bedroom door. "I mean it. Either go or I'm going downstairs and telling my mom I have a migraine, and she'll tell you to leave."

Stu's quiet as you take another step forward. You should have taken his silence as a warning.

You're about to walk out into the hall, but before you can make it, something strong catches you by the waist. You instinctually squirm, but Stu ignores that as he forces you down onto your bed.

A small yelp escapes your lips. You hear the door to your bedroom shut before you can sit up fully. "Stu!"

He's on you in a second, trapping you so that you're forced to stay on your back. If you were struggling to think before, being completely beneath Stu has made it impossible.

Stu's hand finds your face, his thumb soothingly moving across the apple of your cheek. "I didn't mean it." That was true. Tatum is just a part of the plan now, and an occasional lay. But you--you're his first and final thought each day. You're everything, more than you'd ever understand. "You're it for me. No matter what."

You bite your tongue, fighting to not give in to the way he's looking at you. His eyes are pure adoration. "You said that before, and look at how quickly you changed your mind. Since I'm so annoying and I have no interest in being 'the other woman' as you put it, go away."

He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. It's making him feel something that he can't name. He doesn't want you to be mad or upset, he just wants things to go back to normal.

Stu slips his hand across your cheek so that his fingers can twist themselves into your hair. Before you can question him, he presses his lips to yours.

The kiss feels different than the normal way he touches you. It's persistent despite the patience behind it. The way his mouth moves against yours is vulnerable and the way he swipes his tongue against your barely parted lips is pleading.

Your hand instinctively find his chest. You push against him with lethargic force. Stu pulls your bottom lip in between his teeth. A breathy sound that's equally surprised as it is needy escapes you. He takes that as his opening to deepen the kiss.

Just as you start feeling out of breath, Stu pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. I love you.

The thought comes so suddenly Stu has to bite his tongue hard to keep from blurting it out. It's not like he's never felt that towards you, but this is the closest he's ever come to blurting it out.

It's instinct to shut your eyes as you focus on your breathing, but you can still feel his eyes on you. You feel him move, but before you can say anything, Stu starts kissing down your cheek. You don't open your eyes until you feel teeth grazing against your jaw.

"Stu." It's supposed to be a warning.

His hands move, forcing the oversized shirt you're in to ride up enough to expose your hips. Stu squeezes the newly exposed skin as he starts to kiss down your neck. "Do you trust me?"

Yeah, after the way he's been acting, there's no way you're answering that. "There's no way I'm doing anything even remotely sexual with you after what you--"

He finds that one spot near your collarbone. Your breath catches itself in your throat. Stu moves, pushing your shirt up a little more. He kisses down your stomach. You're lost in bliss until you feel his teeth sink into the soft skin of your stomach.

You nearly jump out of your own skin. "Stu!"

Grinning at your tone, he rests his head against you, chin pressing into your hip. "What?"

You're desperate to hold onto your anger, but with the way he's looking at you? It's nearly impossible to not smile. "You're so weird."

"You love it."

Pressing your lips together, you pause to think. "I love it better than you being an asshole."

Not taking the bait, Stu squeezes your hips a little firmer, "I love that smile. It's your 'you-wish-you-were-more-mad-at-me' smile. I think that that's the smile I see the most."

Fondly rolling your eyes, you casually move your hand in order to softly comb your nails through Stu's hair. This is a cute game. "I love that my anger amuses you."

"I love when you do that thing with your nails."

You finally let yourself grin. There's just something about Stu when he's like this, all relaxed and touchy and content. "I love when I can tell you're happy."

"I love you."

Your hand pauses, still in his hair. There's no way you heard that right. "Shit," he breathes, hiding his face against the fabric of your shirt. "I said that out loud." Oh my god--you did hear that right. He just said-- "I was going to be romantic about it. I was going to take you out to that one hill where you can see all the lights from town, and then we were going to go to my place. And I was going to let you pick the movie, and I wasn't going to talk about it, even if you picked that really lame one you're always talking about."

Still in total shock, you blink, stiff beneath him. "I kinda like when you talk about the movies we watch." Stu, looks up, but you don't meet his gaze. "But that's not what we're talking about, so I um--" You shift awkwardly. "Did you mean it?"

Your rush of words come out jumbled, but Stu understands them regardless. "So much. I love you, and I'm sorry that I'm an asshole, but you're not--" He lets out a breath. His silence forces you to finally meet his gaze. "If you think the friend group and Sid can handle it right now, I'll go over to Tatum's right now and break up with her."

Stu's boldness nearly surprises him, because in that moment, he really thinks he might mean it.

Everything you want is hanging there, right in front of you. Every selfish fiber of your being wants to say yes. You want to send Stu off and have him back in your arms in less than an hour. Stu can see it, but he can also see the hesitance in your eyes. After all, you care so deeply about everyone's feelings.

"It-it wouldn't be right," you whisper, more to yourself than him, "Not that any of what we're doing has been right, but that feels meaner than it needs to be. To just completely dump her on a random Saturday night without starting to pull away to prepare her first."

"I'll start pulling away." He's glad to have something productive to latch onto. He could start to pull away from Tatum (like he hasn't already with all the time he spends with you) carefully. Not enough to get her to break up with him, just enough to ease you. He could play at that game until he and Billy finish their plans. "Really laying the ground work for a breakup starts next time I see her."

You nod absentmindedly, the excitement from his confession waning fast. You're retreating into that quiet version of yourself that comes out whenever you think too much about your arrangement.

Stu leans over, pressing a quick kiss to your side. "I think I might've already started because you're all I think about."

"Shut up."

He adjusts his hold on you, "I mean it." You still don't seem too convinced. "You can scold me as much as you want about being nicer to people or anything else. I'm in love you." You finally crack, a smile playing at your lips. "Which is something I've said three times now without you saying it back."

At that, your jaw playfully drops, "Hmm...yeah, you have said it three times now. Weird."

The glint behind Stu's eyes is dangerous. He pulls himself off of you with no warning. You're too confused to do anything until you feel his hands on you. He moves his fingers swiftly, tickling you as you squeal and try to push him off. "What were you saying?"

Through fits of giggles, you manage to get out, "Th-that I'm--" You can barely breathe as you push against him. "That I'm in love with--with a--sadist."

At that, Stu pauses. "In love with, huh?"

"Unfortunately," you sigh.

Stu throws you an exaggeratedly offended look. "Rude. You're going to need to make it up to me."

Deciding to play along, you hum in agreement, "Let me guess. You have something in mind."

Stu leans down, placing a quick kiss to your lips. "You know me so well. C'mon let's go to my place and watch a movie."

[clara-licht]

You Belong With Me

Part of Best of Me Series

Summary: 5 times (Y/n) Stark felt jealous and 1 time it was Peter’s turn. (set before Just Out of Touch, can be read as a standalone)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning: mention of blood and maggots

Note: after a whole year, it’s finally here! Here’s another story set in the world of Just Out of Touch! This story can be read as a standalone, but reading JOOT might give you a bit more context. But if you haven’t read it, spoiler for JOOT, Hecate is (y/n)’s vigilante persona. (Y/n)’s pronouns are she/they, where they is specifically used when they’re out as Hecate. Since this story focuses on (y/n) and not Hecate, I used she/her throughout the story. In future stories both she and they will be used when there are both (y/n) and Hecate. Without further ado, enjoy the story!

Title Inspo: Taylor Swift - You Belong With Me

Best of Me Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

——————————

1: Compliment

——————————

(Y/n) side-glanced at Peter who was pacing back and forth in her room. She let him mumble and curse at himself while she laid on her bed, bored.

"Oh I'm so stupid! How could I have done that?! Ugh, she must hate me now!"

She rolled her eyes. "You're not stupid, Pete. You're in STEM school by scholarship for a reason, you know."

Peter stopped his pacing to look at (y/n) with his big doe eyes and panicked expression. "That's got nothing to do with this!" He exclaimed.

Rolling her eyes again, she asked, "What did you do again?"

He groaned and banged his head on her bed, mumbling something.

"What?"

"I complimented her skirt."

If she had to roll her eyes again, her eyeballs would probably be stuck that way.

"What's so bad about that?" She asked.

Peter didn't even lift his head from the soft duvet. "I sounded like a pervert, (y/n)!" He groaned. "She totally knew I've been checking her out the entire year!"

(Y/n) shook her head exasperatedly. "You couldn't have known that. You just complimented one piece of clothing, Peter. She wouldn't know you've been staring at her clothes every day."

Peter only let out another groan and turned over, pulling the duvet to cover his face. "No, she definitely knows!"

"What did you say, exactly?"

"I said the color suits her and asked if it's new…"

"…So?"

He removed the duvet and stared incredulously at her. "What do you mean, so?"

(Y/n) shrugged. "I don't see what's so bad about that. I mean, it's flattering?"

"Oh, you don't get it!" Peter threw his head back. "I asked if it's new! Meaning that I already know her clothes and noticed that I've never seen that skirt before!"

"Now that you said it like that, you do sound like a pervert."

"UGH!"

Chuckling, (y/n) lifted the duvet and removed it from Peter, eyes glowing soft blue. "Calm down, Spidey. What did she say?"

"I don't know. I ran away afterwards."

Her chuckle turned into a full-on laugh as Peter turned away with a pout, hoping to hide his flaming face.

In between her laugh, she shuffled closer to the boy and ran her fingers gently between his hair. "Well, if it was me, I wouldn't think much about it. I would just be flattered that you think a skirt looks good on me."

Still pouting, Peter mumbled, "But it's not you."

Her laughter ceased, replaced with a slightly sorrowful smile.

"But it's not me." She agreed.

——————————

2: Jokes

——————————

"What's taking him so long?" Happy grumbled.

"It's only been 10 minutes."

"10 minutes too long!"

(Y/n) only hummed and looked out the window. “It’s high school, Happy. It’s where he socializes with his friends, of course it’s going to take time.”

“Not if I can help it.” He muttered.

Shaking her head fondly, her eyes swept through the entrance of Midtown High, trying to see if the young vigilante was anywhere near them. Today was a scheduled lab day and she volunteered to pick him up with Happy. Since she already finished any lessons she had for the day Tony had let her go.

As she kept watch, she couldn’t help but feel a little bittersweet. Sure, she enjoyed her studies online, but she knew that she was missing that typical high school experience. Going to classes, eating lunch in the cafeteria, walking home with friends… But she was also aware that it was all for her safety.

The woes of having a famous father.

(Y/n) was shaken off her thoughts when she finally noticed Ned among the students in front of the school. If Ned was there, then Peter was surely not far.

Sure enough, she could spot a familiar tuft of brown hair right behind Ned.

And apparently he wasn’t alone.

Peter was talking with a girl facing his way. (Y/n) couldn’t see her face but she had a good idea of who she was.

Peter had a shy smile on his lips and his cheeks were nearly blossoming, if (y/n) could say so. In true Peter fashion, he seemed to be stumbling upon his words and spoke a mile per minute. The girl seems as though she didn’t mind as she was laughing along. And yet, unlike the oblivious Peter she was used to, this Peter looked at the girl as if she was a goddess sent to the earth to absolve every sinner from their fated doom. This Peter smiled at her as if she handpicked each star to light up the darkest night.

His darkest night.

(Y/n) unconsciously took a sharp breath when she saw the girl laughing so hard she had to hold onto Peter to stabilize herself. The way she clutched Peter’s arm and the color on Peter’s cheeks…

“There he is! Call him, tell him to hurry up.”

“Just… Just give him a minute, will you, Happy?” She mumbled, eyes never leaving Peter. She was unaware of Happy glancing at her with a frown on his forehead. Like her, he did notice that Peter had a girl with him. He just hadn’t yet connected it to why (y/n) looked off.

As (y/n) sat there looking at the window, the tight feeling in her chest kept getting more painful as time went. On one hand, she would love to get out of the car and go to him, replacing the girl’s position beside Peter. But on the other hand, she knew that things didn’t work that way.

‘He’s happy, that’s all that matters, right?’

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Peter already saying his goodbyes and approaching the car. It was only when Peter sat beside her that she was shaken off her trails.

“Hey, you good?” He asked.

(Y/n) smiled, a hint of sorrow that Peter didn’t notice on her lips.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

——————————

3: Flirt

——————————

The silence was quite awkward, if (y/n) must say.

Tony was out on a conference of some sort in Japan, and as much as (y/n) would love to visit the country, her father couldn’t literally pay her to sit through that conference with him. While she would inherit the company one day, she’d avoid any stuffy meetings if she could.

That day was another scheduled lab day for Peter, though. Tony had forgotten to tell him to reschedule, so he still went to the tower. Peter was going to leave until (y/n) called Tony and he told Peter to just mess around in the lab.

And there they were. In Tony Stark’s personal lab. Just the two of them (along with Dum-E).

(Y/n) could tell something was off with Peter. The first sign was when he said he would go home when he heard Tony wasn’t there. Usually he’d just stay and watch a movie with her. And now he was all quiet while fiddling with his webshooters.

Of course, one could say that perhaps he was focused on fixing or upgrading it, but (y/n) knew that there was nothing wrong with his webshooters and they already installed the upgrade a couple weeks ago. They hadn’t come up with new ideas since then.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Hm?” He didn’t even look up.

“Is there anything in your mind?”

“Huh? No, nothing.” Peter mumbled, still fiddling with his webshooters.

(Y/n) frowned. Something was not right, indeed.

A few minutes passed with silence between them. (Y/n) kept sneaking glances at Peter and Peter kept toying around with the shooters on his wrist. He wasn’t even doing anything. His eyes were unfocused and he was deep in thoughts.

Heaving a sigh, (y/n) removed the goggles she had on. She was doing a project for SI, but it could wait.

“Okay, let’s talk about this,” she said.

Peter finally looked up and stared at her, confused. “Talk about what?”

“Well, this,” she said again, gesturing at Peter.

“...you’re gesturing at all of me.”

“Of course I’m gesturing at all of you! You’re acting weird!”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are! You’re so quiet and you kept playing with your webshooters! Is there something wrong with them or what? You look like you’re thinking so hard and we both know you’re smart enough to not have to think that hard about your shooters!”

Peter didn’t say anything for a while as he stared at (y/n), eyes slightly furrowed.

“Well?” (Y/n) prompted. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Peter sighed and bit his lip. He looked up, as if pondering whether or not he should tell (y/n) about what was on his mind.

“It’s, uh, it’s about Liz.”

(Y/n) heart dropped.

“W-What about her?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

The frown made another appearance on Peter’s forehead. His fingers returned to the webshooter strapped on his wrist and started fiddling again. It was then that (y/n) noticed that this was his way of fidgeting. He used to fiddle with his fingers and then it was with his shooters.

“Well, I saw her today…”

“...and?”

“She, um…” Peter swallowed. “She was, uh, flirting, I think? With Flash.”

By some miracle, instead of feeling that tightness in her chest from the mention of her, she felt truly confused. “Flash? The same Flash that picks on you and doesn't believe in your internship?”

“Uh, yeah…?”

“Why would she? Doesn’t she know what kind of person he is?”

Peter laughed dryly. “He’s rich, (y/n).”

“And so am I, what about it?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “I’m not as obnoxious as that guy, am I?”

“Of course not. You may be getting a big head, though.” He teased with a grin.

(Y/n) only swatted at his arm.

(It took every single will in her not to make a dirty joke then and there, telling herself it wasn’t appropriate for the topic.)

“Anyway! Why did you think she was flirting with him?” (Y/n) asked, ignoring the tight feeling that finally arrived despite the miracle earlier.

“Remember last week? When you picked me up with Happy?”

(Y/n) nodded. ‘How could I not?’ She thought bitterly.

“I don’t know if you saw, but uhh we were flirting, I think?”

“You think?”

“Well, Ned said we were…” Peter mumbled. “We were joking around and she kinda laughed so hard she had to hold onto me…” He recounted, a blush starting to make its way on his cheeks.

(Y/n) took a deep breath to try and calm her erratic heart. Her heart felt like it was sinking with each word coming out of Peter’s mouth. Had she not been a strong-willed young woman with experience in keeping her face neutral, she was 100% sure her eyes would be all watery by now. Not that she didn’t feel the burn on her eyes as she pretended not to hear Peter whispering ‘her hand was so soft’.

“And was she doing the same with Flash?” She asked, and again, by miracle, her voice didn’t crack.

Peter’s hand fell from his wrist and he nodded dejectedly.

“I thought she liked me, you know?” He muttered. Unlike her, Peter was an open book. He was never good at hiding his expression that it was a wonder that his secret identity was still intact. (Y/n) could clearly hear the pain in his voice.

It honestly infuriated her how easy it was for him to affect her.

(Y/n) cleared her throat. “Don’t take it to heart, Pete. Maybe she was just being friendly with him.”

“Or maybe she was just being friendly with me.” Peter mumbled, still dejected.

It filled her heart with grief that he could make such a pained expression in front of her. Had it been her, she could say with certainty that she would never let this boy in front of her go without a smile. But then again, who was she to do that? It wasn’t her that he wanted to put that smile on him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a smile hiding sorrow behind it, she told him, “Why don’t you ask her to do something with you? Like a date?”

——————————

4: Date

——————————

“(Y/n)? Where’s Peter?” Pepper immediately asked when she saw (y/n) lounging alone on the couch.

(Y/n) shrugged half-heartedly, shoving a spoonful of her favorite cookies and cream ice cream to her mouth. An older season of CSI: Miami was playing on the screen in front of her. She kept eating her ice cream unbothered as the screen showed a bloody corpse full of maggots. Oh, apparently it wasn’t a corpse and she was still alive. Who would’ve thought?

“Don’t you guys usually spend Sundays together?” Pepper asked again.

(Y/n) mumbled something that Pepper couldn’t hear.

“Sorry, what?”

“He has a date.”

Pepper blinked once. “A date?”

(Y/n) nodded.

“With… who?”

“...a girl from his school. An upperclassman.”

“Huh… Is that so?” Pepper hummed, taking a seat beside the young Stark.

She glanced at the angsty teen, still enjoying her ice cream accompanied by a pool of blood and maggot and David Caruso on the screen. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean? I’m totally fine.” (Y/n) answered through a mouthful of sugary dairy.

“I don’t think so, honey.” Pepper smiled at her, taking the tub away.

(Y/n) didn’t bother to answer, stubbornly keeping her eyes on the screen.

“I always thought both of you would end up together. What happened?” Pepper tried to ask.

“Us ending up together, huh?” (Y/n) chuckled dryly. “Not a chance, Pep.”

“Why do you say that?”

(Y/n) turned to the CEO of the company that one day would be hers. “Have you looked at Peter? Really looked at him?” She asked. “Because if you have, then you’d know that his eyes were never on me. Not once.”

Sighing, she reached to take back the tub of ice cream from Pepper. “A friend is all I am to him.” She muttered.

(Y/n) was perfectly fine with returning to her angsty mood accompanied by ice cream and crime lab, but apparently Pepper was not.

Pepper stood up and asked FRIDAY to turn the screen off.

“Aw, Pep! Why did you do that!” (Y/n) whined, not unlike a child getting her toy taken away.

“No wallowing in self pity, young lady. Now up you go! We’re going out.”

She groaned and plopped her face on the couch.

To say she would regret going out would be an understatement.

Because an hour on her outing with Pepper, she actually saw Peter on his date.

He was wearing a shirt and grey sweater, like how he wore to school, though the collar was neat. He definitely combed and gelled his hair. She didn’t like it, to be honest. (Y/n) always loved his curls that would fall to his eyes when it got a bit too long. She loved the soft unruly strands that felt silky when she ran her fingers through them.

Peter and his date, Liz, were in a cafe together. It was a cute and aesthetically pleasing one too. (Y/n) was in the Italian restaurant right across the street. Pepper sat with her back to the glass window, so she couldn’t see them, but it was as clear as the sky for (y/n).

And (y/n) wanted to look away, she really did. Yet for some reason, she just couldn’t stop staring at the happy couple. She watched as Liz reached a hand out to wipe something off the corner of Peter’s lips. She watched as Peter laughed shyly. She watched as he hesitantly tried to hold Liz’s hand on the table. She watched as Liz grinned and took his hand in hers.

She watched as they smiled at each other like they were the only people in the world and she was nothing but a speck of dust.

She watched, with bitter heart and a sorrowful smile as she told herself, as long as he’s happy, right?

——————————

5: Broken Heart

——————————

How could this have happened?

They were having such a great time together!

So why...?

“Peter, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not your fault, why are you sorry?”

“I was the one who pushed you to ask her on a date…”

Peter chuckled. He tried to look unbothered, but he was still so easy to read. (Y/n) could basically hear the pieces of his broken heart rattling around as he moved.

It hurt her more than seeing him with her.

“Well, you couldn’t have known everything, (y/n),” Peter said. “Besides, at least I tried, you know?”

(Y/n) bit her lip.

Logically, she should be happy, shouldn’t she? Liz had told Peter that she wanted to remain friends, that she couldn’t be with him. That meant Peter was free for the whole world. Whether or not she had a chance was something else entirely. And yet, she felt extremely guilty.

“I’m okay, really!” Peter grinned with a fake cheerfulness. “I had a great time and I appreciate her telling me the truth instead of leading me on. I’m sure we’ll remain great friends even after this.”

‘But you were never great friends with her…’

“I guess she’s just trying to focus on her studies, you know? Since she’s a senior and all.”

‘But she did lead you on…’

“And you know what they say, there are plenty more fish in the sea!”

‘But you were so fixated on her…’

Peter’s eyes softened when he realized how quiet (y/n) was. “I’m really alright, (y/n). It’s not your fault at all.”

“Besides,” he grinned, this time genuine, “Maybe now it’s my turn to help you find someone! Your help was greatly appreciated and now I can return the favor!”

(Y/n) refrained from smiling sardonically at the irony. The only way he could help her find someone was if he magically fell in love with her, but she knew better than to be wishful like that.

“Thank you, Pete, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Whaaaaat why? I can give great love advice!”

“Yeah? Like what?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Uhh…”

“Exactly.”

“Anyway! When you find someone, tell me, okay? I’ll try my best to help you, since you were so helpful to me.”

Helpful, huh?

Why can’t you see it?

How badly I want to say those words?

Instead, (Y/n) smiled, sorrow seeping into her being. “It was my pleasure.”

——————————

+1: Reverse

——————————

arachnophobia: wanna go out tonight? hecate hasnt been out for a while

ironlady: cant today

ironlady: harley’s coming

arachnophobia: harley? the one whose garage mr stark broke into?

ironlady: yep!! cant wait to see him

ironady: its been a while

arachnophobia: can i meet him?

ironlady: ofc just come here

The moment Peter stepped out from the elevator, he could hear the laughter already. He didn’t need his enhanced hearing to know that (y/n) was positively joyful.

He followed the sound to the penthouse’s living room where he could see (y/n) sitting on the couch. Beside her was a young man his age with sandy blonde hair. Both of them were talking animatedly with each other.

“Hey.”

“Oh, Peter!” (Y/n) turned around, a big grin on her face. “This is Harley Keener, the potato boy dad and I told you about!”

“Potato boy?” Harley frowned.

“It’s either that or problem child 1, which one do you prefer?”

“Tony’s been calling me that?”

“Yep!”

“And what are you?”

“Problem child 2, duh.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

Harley scoffed. “Yeah, right, il mio tarassaco.”

“Hey! Only dad can call me that!”

“I know, I know, don’t get your panties in a twist, Princess Stark.” Harley laughed as he ruffled (y/n)’s hair, much to her chagrin.

Peter couldn’t get one word out. He watched as (y/n) tried to get back at Harley and mess with his hair as Harley dodged her. He watched as (y/n)’s face was overtaken by a huge grin and her eyes lighted up in joy.

“Harley stop it!”

“You started it!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!”

“No I- you know what, I’m not doing this. You haven’t even greeted Peter!” (Y/n) huffed, gesturing at Peter who was still standing still behind the sofa.

“Oh, yeah, my bad,” Harley said. He stood up and dusted his pants, then reached out a hand.

“Harley Keener, at your service,” he grinned.

Peter took his hand hesitantly. “Peter Parker. Nice to meet you.”

(Y/n) beamed at the two of them. “I’ve told him so much about you. I think you guys will be great friends!” She told Peter. “Dad is talking about making Harley his intern too, so you two will be Stark Industries first and only high school interns. Tony Stark’s personal interns, to be exact.”

“Wait, intern?” Peter asked, clearly taken aback. “But don’t you live in Tennessee?”

Harley shrugged. “I’m moving here around next month. Not a lot of opportunities back home, so Tony offered to house and send me to school here. I’m here today to look around before the big day.”

“It’s a shame I can’t go to school with you, though.” (Y/n) complained. “I’m getting bored of this whole homeschooling thing.”

“What can I say, Princess Stark,” Harley said with a teasing smile, “a Princess must remain at her castle.”

“Yeah, well, this Princess can take care of herself and goes out at night alone, what about it?” She rolled her eyes.

“Alright, alright, you got a point, Hecate.”

“I told you, I’m not Hecate right now!”

“He knows about Hecate?” Peter asked.

(Y/n) nodded. “He was the first one to know, even before dad. I told you of how Harley’s been coming here for years, right? He basically knows more about me than dad at this point.”

“That, I do.” Harley said, staring at Peter a little too long. Something dawned on him when he saw something on Peter’s face.

He turned to (y/n) and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Anyway, I gotta run and find Tony now, got things to ask him. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, you know where to find me.”

“Great! See ya later, Princess Stark.” Harley dropped a big kiss on her head and left the room, but not before giving Peter a meaningful look.

Peter was frozen on his spot.

In all his time knowing (y/n), not once did he ever see (y/n) that happy. She looked so carefree, as if she trusted Harley blindly and trusted him to keep her that way. It took him some time to get (y/n) to open up to him. He knew that he couldn’t compare himself to Harley who knew (y/n) longer than him, but for some reason it ticked him off.

But why?

And when Harley held (y/n) close to him like that? It felt wrong to Peter. Then he went and actually kissed her! Well, on the head, but still. Something felt off within Peter and he didn’t really know what or why.

Somehow, it was almost like…

Like it should’ve been him?

“Peter, are you okay?”

Peter was startled from his thoughts when (y/n)’s face suddenly entered his peripherals.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?” He quickly said.

(Y/n) hummed. “You look a bit off, that’s all.”

“It’s nothing, I promise.”

“If you say so…”

“So, uh,” Peter started, “that Harley… How long is he staying?”

“A week, I think. He’ll move in next month, on the 15th.” (Y/n) answered. “I can’t wait for next month, honestly. I missed him so much. Him living with me and dad here would be a blast.”

“When do you want to go out?” Peter asked, changing the subject immediately. Somehow, for some reason, he didn’t want to hear (y/n) talk about Harley anymore. Especially not about how he would be living with her.

“Ah, well… Not this week? Maybe after Harley’s back to Tennessee?”

“...oh.”

“You can still go out without me though! I know Spider-Man must be anxious to get out there!”

“...yeah, you’re right. Uh, you know what, I actually forgot I had to run an errand for May, so I’m going to leave now, okay?”

Peter quickly rushed out. The penthouse was getting stuffy for no reason and he couldn’t stand being there anymore.

What is wrong with me?

——————————

Taglist + Mutuals (let me know if you want me to untag you!)

@spn-assemble-seven @racewife2004​​ @lukesbabylon​​ @serendipitous-amor​​ @sovereign-parker @ifangirlninja​​ @lyzalovealk @lookuptotheskiesandsee @tommysparker​​ @starlight-starks​​   @marvelexi​​ @lou-la-lou​​ @spiderbibby​​ @hello--zuko-here​ @everydaymj​​ @galaxystern08​​  @allegra-writes​​​​ @spideyspeaches​​​​ @delicatepeterparker​​ @parkerpeter24​​​​ @terrifictomholland​​​​ @quackeroos​​ @angel-spidey​​ @greenorangevioletgrass​​ @awkward-darkness​​ @chloecreatesfictions @tonguetiedholland​​ @peterbenjiparker​​ @and-it-burns-like-a-fire @sinisterspidey​​ @bi-lmg

[kissy-kobos-garden]

plot: y/n carries Kobo to the bedroom after falling asleep on the couch.

genre: fluff, romance with a touch of comedy? idk ;w;

word count: 1,549

a/n: congratulations to our winner for the one-shot category of your giveaway! i hope you're gonna like this one, chloe!

what other way to best celebrate the end of the week? of course, a good 'ol movie night was one of the best ways to celebrate, especially if it was with your lover.

a coffee table filled with an array of dishes that you both whipped up from scratch, a couch filled with pillows and blankets, and lastly, a tv screen showing the new movie that you guys have been planning on watching.

"oppa, how many movies are we gonna watch tonight?" you ask while munching on the cheese katsu kobo cooked. "it depends... since someone might fall asleep while watching."

the recognizable teasing lilt of his voice had you scoffing, already known for a fact that it would be him who's going to fall asleep first. "you sure you're not talking about yourself, bub?"

a hearty laugh slips past his lips as he sways his body towards your side, slightly bumping onto you. "there's no one else in this room, baby." he whispers with eyes boring right into yours thus resulting in your cheeks heating up, and you pushing him away before placing the whole katsu in your mouth. "shut up."

"c'mon, we both know it's you who'd fall asleep first." he states as a matter of fact while taking a piece of tissue in his hand, hand going up to your chin to have you face him. "aigoo, my yeobo sure is still an aegi," he adds in and proceeds to wipe your mouth.

you watch him focus on your lips and was about to speak up when he decides to place a kiss on the corner of your lips. "ah!"

he chuckles before transferring his attention back to the food in front of him. "eat up, it's nice seeing you all full and cheeks round."

"why do you even like seeing my cheeks so round?"

if there was one thing kobo would love to play with or even nibble on... it was your cheeks. "it's adorable!" he beams before giving you a side glance. "and besides, your smile's really cute you know."

no matter how long you've guys have been together, he never fails to catch you off-guard. "here, eat up." you quickly divert the subject by quickly placing a piece of cheese katsu on his bowl.

a swift pinch on your cheek, kobo didn't think twice and proceeds to enjoy his meal. it stayed like this for quite some time until the two of you finished up your meals.

"i'll do the dishes," you say while pilling up all the plates and bowls. "no, no. i can't let you do it alone-"

you shake your head with a smile before squatting down to meet his eyes, "you've worked hard enough today, just sit back and relax alright? i've got this and besides, i need to take a quick shower."

sighing in defeat, kobo nods his head and leans in to give you a peck on the lips. "i love you," he says without looking away from you. "i love you too."

you bring all of the bowls, plates, and cups to the sink and begin washing all of them. from time to time, you'd look towards the living room to see what kobo was doing and one thing's for sure, you can see sleep finally dancing its way to his lids.

kobo has always been the type to deny that he isn't sleepy and that he's not tired but you know him too well. quickly drying up everything, you place them back to your cupboards and plate rack.

one last look at your beau, you couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him hugging ppippi while watching intently on the screen - frozen 2 was playing and he would casually sing along with elsa.

"don't fall asleep while i'm away, baby~" you coo as you stop by the couch, only to earn a furrowed brow from him. "i'm not a baby!"

raising a brow in response, you cock your head to the side - acting all confused and innocent. "then what are you?"

"i'm a manly man, of course!" he confidently beams, puffing up his chest with a cheeky grin.

it was fun teasing kobo sometimes since you'd always get a reaction from him. "whatever floats your boat, baby, just make sure you don't fall asleep okay?"

he jokingly rolls his eyes before giving you a small "okay" before returning his attention back to olaf.

you go to your shared bathroom and proceed in having that hot shower you deserve. it was as if all of the stress and tiredness was washed off along with the suds. it doesn't really take you long to take a shower but staying for a couple more minutes than your usual shower time wouldn't hurt.

putting on kobo's mickey mouse pajamas, you let out a satisfied sigh before making your way back to the living room - only to be greeted by a sleeping kobo.

he's all curled up on the couch with ppippi in his arms and dambee by his head also all curled up. the sight was definitely something you'd be happy to see for the rest of your life but the thought of how to carry kobo to the bed is the only thing you can think of right now.

"how in the world can i transfer him from here," you pause... turning your head towards the bedroom to see how far you have to drag him. "to there?"

kobo... is definitely bigger than you and you know you'd be a clown if you deny it. gently putting ppippi away, you wave a hand right in front of his face to see if he'd react. there were no signs of him waking up anytime soon so you gently wrap his arms around your neck and your arms around his upper torso.

"i know you're gonna wake up but..." you whisper before pulling him off the couch, making sure his legs doesn't drop way too hard. stopping on your tracks to see if he's waking up, you heave out a sigh of relief when he continues to snore away with his lips slightly ajar, drool already forming on the corner of his mouth.

widening your base of support, you slowly make your way to the bedroom. arms already becoming sore, and your body slowly bending backward due to the weight of his body.

but all is well since you're just simply carrying his upper torso and letting his lower body get dragged on the floor... right?

you grit your teeth and let out a curse as you feel beads of sweat forming on your temples, "damn you and your beautiful, muscular body."

the distance between the living room and the bedroom was finally shortened. a couple more steps and dragging of your lover's body on the floor, you've finally got in your shared bedroom.

however, thanks to you and your clumsiness, you trip on your own feet and have the both of you flying to your bed. a loud "oomf-" slips past your lips as kobo's body gets all pressed upon yours.

the sound of him groaning had you whipping your head towards him, only to see his half-lidded eyes searching for yours. "ugh, what happened?"

"i carried you all over here but... oppa, c-can you get off of me for a sec?"

kobo looks down at your position and hurriedly gets off of you while muttering a couple of sorry's and are you okay's. finally, it's as if your soul left your body, you sink in on the mattress before letting your eyelids flutter shut.

"w-was i too heavy?" he innocently and worriedly asks while getting in bed with you. "what do you think, big boy?" you retaliate without looking at him as you try to catch your breath.

you'd be lying if carrying him all the way from the living room to the bedroom didn't drain the life out of you. it felt like a week's worth of working out!

the sound of the shuffling duvet had you looking up, only to see kobo positioning himself on your side with arms all ready to lift you up bridal style.

before you could even let out a protest, he effortlessly lifts you up - nothing compared to how you carried him- and positions you on your side of the bed.

"i'm sorry for having you carry me all the way here, [y/n]," he says as he snuggles close to you. "but you could just wake me up and tell me to bring myself here."

you nod your head before turning your body towards him, grabbing his arm and turning it into an arm pillow. "i didn't want to wake you up since i know you're tired but yeah..."

kobo hums and pulls you closer to him, an arm finding its way to your waist. "i don't mind but thanks for carrying all the way here, [y/n]." he waits for your response and runs his slender fingers through your locks, pressing his cheeks on top of your head.

quite some time passed and all he can hear from you was your soft breathing. a chuckle erupts from his chest as he slightly pulls away, only to see you fast asleep in his arms.

"good night, [y/n]."

[ohgodmyeyes]

Movie Night

Luke x Anakin is my new favourite ship, so I’m gonna crosspost one of those, too. I’m bored.

3k words of modern!Anakin fucking his son on the couch below the cut.

18+

Luke liked to sit next to his dad.

"What are you watching?" he asked one evening, as he fell beside Anakin onto the well-worn old couch in the basement.

"Huh?" Relaxing downstairs after work was one of Anakin's favourite things to do. He liked to bathe, shirtless, in the gentle, blue glow of his television set. Like the sofa, the TV was old— Anakin had never bothered to upgrade to HD. Not down here, anyway.

Luke didn't mind. Again, he just liked to sit next to his dad.

"I said, what are you watching?"

"Oh. Movie."

"What movie?"

"Rambo."

"Oh, cool. I like the old ones."

"Fuck off." Anakin didn't think 'Rambo' was that old.

He'd just started drinking when his son had walked in— cans of beer, interspersed with the odd shot of dark, spiced rum. When he offered some of it to Luke, Luke didn't refuse.

Luke liked to do the things his dad did.

So, the two men drank— shot after shot, beer after beer, late into the night. 'Rambo' ended and 'Predator' started, and then 'Predator' ended, too. Luke rested his head on his dad's chest. It was strong, wide, and smooth. 'Top Gun' started to play next. Luke began to absently stroke Anakin's stomach.

By then, they were both certifiably shitfaced.

"You're pretty," said Anakin, sometime during an extended commercial break between films. It seemed to come from absolutely nowhere.

"What?" Luke turned his head to look up at his dad's face. He always seemed so serious. Right now was no exception.

"You're pretty," repeated Anakin flatly. "Like your mom." He was slurring his words a bit, but he wasn't lying. Luke was fucking gorgeous.

Luke felt himself blush. Why the hell was he blushing? "You... you think I'm—?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble one day." Anakin hadn't had a coherent thought for hours. Luke and the heat of his body were all there was. That, and the glow of the television screen.

"What are you talking about?" Luke tried to sit up a bit, but it was difficult. His dad's chest seemed almost... magnetic. He felt stuck to it.

"I'm talking about how you're even worse than your mom. She's a tease, sure... but you're a goddamn sadist." Anakin peered down at Luke. The kid looked like he belonged on a beach— naked, with the sunlight kissing his skin and glinting off his hair. How the hell had he turned out so damn blonde?

"Huh?"

"She likes to... I don't know. Flaunt herself around to get me going. Always has. You fucking torture me, though, and you don't even know you're doing it." Luke would do things like shower with the bathroom door open, and then walk around the house in nothing but a towel. Padmé and Leia were both busy, ambitious women, and that meant they were away a lot— working, socializing, attending school.

When they were away, Anakin would imagine ripping that damn towel right off and having his way with Luke.

He'd never actually tried it, though.

"I— uh, I... I'm... sorry?" stammered Luke. His face still felt hot. Now his dick was getting stiff, too. He didn't know what to say.

"Don't be sorry," said Anakin. "Just... take off your shirt." Again, Anakin was already shirtless.

"...What...?" Luke did manage to sit all the way up then. He looked his dad up and down, unable to stop his eyes from lingering. Anakin had always seemed so big to him— big and strong, and capable, too. He could fix anything, do anything, be anything.

Luke, sometimes, woke up hard and wet in the middle of the night to thoughts of his dad's body.

He'd never done anything about those thoughts, though.

...You really weren't supposed to think about your dad that way, were you?

"Take off your shirt," Anakin repeated. He shifted sloppily in his seat so as to get a better view. Luke's perfect, slight little frame and smooth, milky skin cried out to be touched.

Puberty had been very kind to Luke, Anakin thought, and he secretly loved that his son had stayed a couple of inches shorter than him. He would often sit right here in his basement and fantasize, in fact, about having Luke against the wall near the boiler— he was just small enough to lift, so it would be fun and easy to take him from the front, flush against the rough, bare cinderblock.

Luke would wrap his legs around his daddy's waist, and then Anakin would pound him until he—

"Dad?"

Anakin realized he'd become distracted.

Luke sat in front of him, newly shirtless.

"Fuck," said Anakin.

"What is it?" murmured Luke. The room was spinning, but his dad wasn't. His dad looked perfect. Too perfect. Fuck. Fuck.

"Y-you— you're as hard as a fucking rock."

Luke looked down. Anakin was right. He was only wearing a pair of soccer shorts, now. They were favourite pair— green. He was making a tent out of them with his cock. "S-so are you," he said, glancing across to the bulge in Anakin's own pants.

It was fucking huge.

"Goddamn it," Anakin said. He could feel the tip of his dick starting to drip. His heart was racing, too. This had to be a dream. He'd had dreams like this before.

"...Daddy?" asked Luke, wide-eyed and visibly tentative. He hadn't called Anakin 'daddy' in years. Why did he do it now? He didn't know.

"Tell me what you want, baby boy. Tell your daddy what you want."

"I— I want... I w-want you t-to..." Luke faltered, and faltered badly. How the hell was he supposed to say it?

"Tell me, Luke." Anakin shifted in his seat, and pulled his dick out of his pants. It stood tall and thick. Eager. Ready.

"I want you to fuck me, daddy," confessed Luke, struggling not to gape at the sheer size of his father's hard-on. He'd never seen it like this before, but now that he had, he knew he needed it.

Up to now, he'd thought dicks like his dad's only existed on the internet.

A half-shade or so darker than the skin on the rest of Anakin's body, it looked nearly as thick as a soup can, and more than long enough to choke just about anybody. It had a subtle, very alluring inward curve, and adorning its base was a pretty nest of haphazard, amber curls. Those curls lightened and grew sparse as they trailed up Anakin's stomach, stopping just short of his navel.

Luke found himself overcome with a disconcertingly urgent desire to touch his dad's cock— to lick it, suck it, and take it up his hole. He'd played with toys and played with his own fingers before, but he'd never had anything so magnificent as Anakin's hard-on up his ass.

He wondered if it was going to hurt.

Part of him hoped it would hurt.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was too drunk, that's what it was.

...Not too drunk to fuck, though. Not too drunk for his daddy.

Luke sprang into action. He got onto his hands and knees right there on the couch, kicking off his shorts behind himself as he ravenously stuffed the length of Anakin's throbbing dick into his wet, eager mouth. Everything in the room seemed to move along with him, and when the head of it first hit the back of his throat, he thought he might throw up.

His dad leaked haplessly onto his tongue.

Luke forgot all about puking.

"Jesus Christ!" shouted Anakin. He'd be glad, later, that his wife and daughter weren't home to hear him. He took a handful of his son's lovely hair in his hand, and pushed down to the delightful sound of a muffled squeal.

This was no dream.

Tears gathered at the edges of Luke's eyes. His dad was thick in his throat, hard against his back teeth. He bit down gently, and Anakin dripped. He coughed, swallowed, and whimpered through his own painfully full mouth. He began to choke as he felt his hair being gathered up, and his head being pushed down and pulled back in turns. On the way up, he'd try to breathe and blink, and on the way down he would simply relish being consumed.

"D-does th-that taste... g-good, baby boy?" Anakin gasped, although Luke didn't answer, because he couldn't. Padmé never let him fuck her mouth like this, Anakin thought. Never let him grab her by the hair, or force her face onto his cock. She thought she was too dignified for that— too 'good'.

Luke was under no such illusions.

Anakin bucked upwards, still pushing and pulling on the back of Luke's head. That pretty little mouth of his was talented, and every time it came down on Anakin, it seemed to have something new in store for him. Luke bit, Luke tongued, Luke swallowed, and Luke sucked. Anakin let out a groan, and realized that he was beginning to lose his rhythm.

Shit. No. Not yet! With a heavy grunt and very little warning, Anakin pulled his son's mouth away from his dick. He wanted to cum, but not like this.

"Daddy," coughed Luke. "A-are you g-going to—"

Anakin interrupted by twisting Luke's hair tightly in his fist, and hoisting him up so that the two were face-to-face. "If you let me fuck you," he warned, "it's going to hurt for days." Anakin knew very well that he had a monster hard-on. He'd always liked to make his wife squeal with it. Would Luke squeal, too?

"I— ah!— I... I want it anyway!" Luke bent his head backwards, squirming and struggling against his father's grasp. His own cock twitched, because he didn't really want to get away.

"I bet you have a tight little asshole, Luke. Tell your daddy you want him to wreck your hole." He pulled Luke close, again by the hair, and went on to sink his teeth into the boy's exposed neck. He smelled and tasted just like a teenager: All pheromone-laden sweat, and cheap, obtrusive body spray.

It was fucking intoxicating.

Luke cried out, and bucked his hips into the air. "W-wreck me, daddy. Destroy me." Anakin didn't know yet that Luke had been leaving the bathroom door open on purpose. Deep down, he wanted his dad to smell his soap, and catch glimpses of his body.

He always had.

Anakin released Luke's hair, letting him fall heavily back onto to the couch. "Give me your ass," he said, stumbling to his feet as hastily as he could manage. His dick was already out, so getting up was all he had to do.

"H-here," breathed Luke, sloppily rising from where he'd been dropped, and taking the back of the sofa in his hands as he stuck his ass out toward his father. He felt hungry right now— empty— in a way he never had before. He'd stopped asking himself how or why, because the reasons didn't matter. All he knew was that he needed it. "Fuck me, daddy," he begged. "Please, please fuck me!"

Anakin had been busy squeezing a generous portion of silky, high-end lube out onto his hand. Padmé had bought it for him to use with her, but he mostly kept it down here because he liked to make jerking off a more pleasant experience for himself: Anakin was horny by nature, and he jerked off a lot... although these days, he tended to do it most often following Luke's cruel, exhibitionist showers.

There was still plenty of slick left on his hand, so just for fun, he started with his fingers. He massaged Luke's little hole, poking and prodding and rubbing circles around it with awe-filled fascination, all while Luke shouted and whined. He reached around, too, to grab Luke by the cock. He stroked its shaft and teased its head, and every time it pulsed, he squeezed it hard and tight.

"You've always been such a good boy," whispered Anakin, curling his fingers up into his son's ravenous little hole.

For what felt like a long while, all Luke could do was writhe and whine as his dad fondled and fingered him... soon, though, his thighs began to tremble, and an intense, very familiar type of desperation started to well up inside of him. His breath hitched as he begged haltingly, "P-put... put it in! Please, dad, I— I—"

"Say it again first," demanded Anakin, abruptly withdrawing his attention from Luke's cock.

Luke screamed in frustration; again, it was a good thing his sister and his mother weren't at home. He knew just what his dad meant, though, so he obeyed immediately and unquestioningly, "Wreck me, daddy!"

"F-fuck... fuck, that sounds so damn good. One more time, Lukie— one more time for your daddy!" He was letting his cock brush up against the backs of Luke's thighs. Sticky little droplets of cum leaked out of him and onto Luke's skin, and Anakin spread them all around with his tip.

"Wreck me, daddy!"

That made Anakin grin. Wordlessly— he knew he didn't have to say a thing— he thrust his waiting length right past the threshold of his little boy's ass.

Luke would always be Anakin's little boy.

"F-fuck! Fuck!"

Again, Luke had played with toys before— his dad's cock, though, was something else altogether. The stretch burned, but as Anakin eased his way in further, a unique sensation of unfettered fullness overtook Luke, displacing his pain entirely.

By the time Anakin was buried up to his sack, Luke had been overcome with an urge to touch himself. When he went to try, though, he was foiled by his father's scolding.

"Stop that," Anakin chided, the very moment he noticed Luke's hand start to move.

"But dad—"

"You'll come when I say."

Luke blinked fresh tears out of his eyes as his own cock throbbed painfully, bobbing about in the air. He didn't have time to argue with his dad, though, because Anakin had already started to thrust: He felt too desperate to take his time, unable to spare Luke even an ounce of his own desperation.

Every one of those open-door showers came back to him then— every time that towel had ever slipped, every time Luke had bent over to grab one of the bottles of sugar-free iced tea Padmé liked to set up in neat little rows along the bottom of the fridge.

Every time the water in his hair would drip onto his shoulders, sending little rivers cascading down his chest and back... every time the outline of his flaccid cock would make itself evident through the immodest strip of blue terrycloth draped around his perfect little waist...

Fuck. Fuck.

Luke felt sticky tendrils of himself begin to drip helplessly onto the couch. Something akin to a sob forced its way up from the very back of his throat, and he gripped the back of the sofa with all his strength. He didn't dare reach back down between his own legs.

Anakin, for his part, just kept on fucking. He placed one hand on Luke's waist to steady himself, but the other shot straight to the back of the boy's head, twisting its fingers up once more in that pretty, blonde mop he so admired. Luke's whining only made him move faster, and their mutual trembling only caused him to tighten his grip. He was merciless, tearing into his son with the unbridled power of years of repressed lust.

Anakin had wanted this for what felt like forever.

Luke's neck bent back at a near-impossible angle, and his cock continued to bounce tortuously beneath him as his dad intensified his rhythmic pounding. He moaned and yelped as Anakin yanked on his hair, and dug a persistent set of strong, blunt fingertips into his waist. He tried not to clench too hard around his dad's dick, but he couldn't help it.

Not that Anakin minded being squeezed.

"Dad, I can't— I— I can't t-take—!"

"Just hold on, baby boy," Anakin interrupted breathlessly, lost in the frantic movement of his own hips. "Just hold on for daddy."

Luke did hold on. He held on with all his might, waiting— waiting for a shout, waiting for a tug, waiting for the sensation of—

"Daddy!"

"Fuck! L-Luke!"

Neither of them would ever know who went off first: Luke's eyes squeezed themselves shut while every muscle in his body tensed. His breathing grew ragged, and he let out a series of obscenely loud, strangled cries as his dad's ravaging finally became too much for him bear. Dick still bouncing along with Anakin's rhythm, he erupted all over the sofa in a hot, sticky, needy mess.

At what might have been the very same moment, Anakin ground his hips sharply into Luke's ass. He cursed, growled, and relished the dire, pulsing sensation of his cock exploding deep inside his boy. It felt like the ultimate indulgence: An indulgence of every single one of the sick fantasies to which Anakin had ever closed his eyes and stroked himself. He'd needed this for years.

He pushed hard while he drained, letting the hand he'd been keeping on his son's waist snake around to finger his sexy little navel. Anakin let his fingertips dance along the edge of the near-indiscernible trail of fine, strawberry hairs leading down to Luke's slowly-softening dick. He finally did wrap his hand around it again, giving it a loving pump or two as he held himself inside of Luke for as long as he could manage.

Luke sputtered and panted, and backed into his dad's cock insistently despite the fact that his arms and legs had begun to quiver. Soon, he felt Anakin start to soften up, and eventually— begrudgingly— pull out of him.

"D-Daddy," he whined yet again, as the very head of Anakin's dick popped out of his ass, leaving him with only its seed, and a uniquely wonderful, strangely devastating emptiness.

Anakin took a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure. He looked down and saw Luke's hole, still bearing the evidence of having been stretched to its limit by his cock. It was beautiful— so beautiful that Anakin traced one last circle around the rim of it with his fingertip, and then reached back to give the fleshiest part of his son's ass a hard, unexpected slap.

With a yelp and a hop, Luke finally gave up his grip on the back of the couch, letting go in favour of sloppily turning to face his dad. He fell into a heap then, almost seeming to dissolve into the old, threadbare fabric. He was sweaty, but still naked, and growing cold. His skin was peppered with goosebumps.

Anakin stood and stared down at him, mesmerized. His cock was still out, although it was now wet and flaccid. He didn't tuck it away until he registered for himself the chill in the basement air.

Then, he sat down next to his baby boy... who immediately moved to cling to his daddy's chest, warming himself contentedly as he basked in the glow of the TV, and in the lingering delirium of their sex.

The old movies had long since finished airing— now, there were only infomercials.

Anakin and Luke were quiet. They were still drunk... although, perhaps, not feeling their drunkenness quite as acutely as they had before.

"See?" asked Anakin.

"See what?"

"I told you— you're pretty."

Just as it had done the first time, Luke's face went red... however, the new heat rising in his cheeks was accompanied, this time, by a serene little smile.

He didn't say anything... but he did snuggle in just a little bit closer to Anakin. His ass hurt, but it was a good hurt.

A hurt that made him feel loved.

Luke liked to sit next to his dad.

[artificialqueens]

Unexpected (but I'm worth it) (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: I wanted to write another virginity fic but this time a) lesbian, b) w V as the virgin. Because Holtz messaged me the other day and pointed out that 1st Position would be Excellent inspiration for a first time fic, and y'all know what? She was right, and she should say it

Title from 1st Position by Kehlani. THANK YOU HOLTZ for beta-ing and leaving me laughing so hard w ur comments fdhsfjkh LOVE U <3

Brooke can’t help but feel like something is very, very wrong.

It’s not that things are bad between her and Vanessa; on the contrary, they’re doing better than ever, better than any of Brooke’s previous relationships when they went this long. She and Vanessa see each other every week, cuddle and hold hands and kiss in public and feel secure when they don’t. They feel comfortable quadruple-texting, and safe not to text at all when they’re having a bad day. They’ve met each other’s friends, and for the past couple of weeks, Vanessa’s been hinting that she might want Brooke to be her date the next Mateo family reunion.

But Vanessa’s never spent the night, and as much as it wouldn’t bother Brooke normally, somehow lately, it’s felt… different. Like something has shifted, in the strangest of ways.

Brooke notices it first when they’re watching a movie together. A sex scene flashes across the screen, and Vanessa shifts in her seat, presses her legs together a little. But when Brooke asks if she’s turned on, teases her a little for it, Vanessa blushes and mumbles that Brooke should drop it. The next time Brooke feels the shift, it’s when they’re making out, and Vanessa grinds her hips into Brooke a little more aggressively than usual. Only the minute that Brooke responds by grinding back, Vanessa pulls away and apologizes, saying she needs a minute. And then there’s the time that Brooke brings up sex directly, telling a story she thinks is funny about an ex she thinks Vanessa doesn’t feel jealous of. Vanessa listens quietly, looking progressively more uneasy until Brooke skips to the end, and Vanessa looks relieved.

Something is definitely wrong, and whatever it is, it definitely has to do with sex.

“Why don’t you just ask her about it?” Scarlet sounds matter-of-fact on the phone, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and Brooke feels a flash of irritation at the suggestion.

“ Because, ” she hisses, “There might be a reason she’s so touchy, and it might be really personal. We’ve only been dating for five months, Scarlet. Five months is so early to disclose some things! What if she’s touchy because she’s a survivor? Or has a social anxiety disorder? Or autism and she’s insecure about reading the signs of whether I’m ready for sex? Or has a phobia of sex or something? Those happen, you know, because of OCD or internalized homophobia or super strict upbringings…”

“Yeah, we know you have issues, Brooke, no need to project them onto Vanessa.” Scarlet scoffs, and Brooke has had it, she really has. It was a mistake to even bring it up, let alone with Scarlet. Sure, Scarlet is intelligent and creative, but the girl possesses the EQ of a gnat, and it’s very clear she won’t be of any help. She should have asked Nina, Nina would’ve been better—

“Have you considered that she might be insecure about sex because she’s still a virgin?”

Brooke stops in her tracks, the suggestion hitting her square in the face.

Of course. It explains why Vanessa seems to be hinting that she wants it, but then pulling back, and why she won’t spend the night. Why Vanessa looks like she wants to say something but can’t whenever Brooke makes a sexual joke at an ex’s expense.

God, Brooke is an idiot.

“I’m not saying you have to kick the door down and start screaming about autism or abuse or exposure therapy, girl.” Scarlet continues, and this time, Brooke listens. “I’m just saying, starting with a question and a disclaimer that she doesn’t need to tell you anything she doesn’t want to isn’t a bad thing. It’s good. Shows that you want to know what’s going on with her, make it better. Everyone should be so lucky to have someone like that in their life.”

Holy shit. If the suggestion that Vanessa may still be a virgin isn’t already enough to shake Brooke, the words that have just come from Scarlet’s mouth certainly are. Because Scarlet is right .

Brooke checks over her shoulder for flying pigs before turning back to the phone, still a little in awe at how obvious her friend’s advice is, how good it is. “You’re a genius, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do.” Scarlet’s voice is casual, but Brooke knows that she’s probably grinning madly on the other side of the line, overjoyed at the praise. It’s kind of cute to think about.

“Just let me know how it goes, okay?”

“Alright, will do.” Brooke nods. “And Scarlet?”

“Mhm?”

“Thanks.”

–

Brooke keeps it casual the next time she sees Vanessa, trying to make everything seem as normal and calm as possible.

Only inside she’s a nervous wreck, visions of what can go wrong spinning in her head. What if Vanessa gets offended or defensive? What if she shuts the conversation down, and then things get awkward between them? What if for whatever reason, they fight? What if Vanessa really does have some kind of baggage, and even if she doesn’t open up to Brooke, it brings up bad feelings or memories for her?

No. Brooke takes a deep breath in, forcing the thoughts out as she exhales. Now isn’t the time for anxiety. If she’s going to spin out about it, she might as well not do it. If she’s going to broach this topic, be ready for Vanessa’s answer, she needs to have a clear, level head. She can’t make this all about herself and how she feels.

Right now, everything needs to be about what’s best for Vanessa.

“Man, you off your game today.” Vanessa grins as she puts a few more letters down on their scrabble bored, poking the tiles softly as she tallies up her points. Twenty, all from adding an ‘E-D’ at the end of a word on a double word score tile. Brooke could have done it if she’d been focused; she would have done it if she were focused. Instead, she’s lagging by about thirty points and still trying to stop her head from spinning.

Fuck. She needs to get out of her head and into the game, or she’s going to lose both her winning streak and her opportunity to talk to Vanessa.

She puts down ‘C-A’ to make ‘CAD’ and winces when she realizes it’s only earned her six points.

“Brooke?” Vanessa prods again, her voice softer this time, and Brooke looks up to see that Vanessa’s grin has fallen away, concern painted on her face instead. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Brooke trails off, then takes yet another deep breath before she can make any more excuses for herself.

No; no more running. She needs to address this, and needs to address it now.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, and I guess I’m a little nervous about it, because I don’t want to bring it up in a way that’s, like, insensitive, I guess? I just don’t want to hurt your feelings, or make you feel bad, or bring up anything that you don’t want to talk about, not that you have to talk about anything you don’t want to–”

“Brooke.” Vanessa brings her hands up to stop Brooke in her tracks, the ghost of a smile returning to the shorter woman’s face despite herself. “Slow down, baby. It’s okay.”

There’s a pause while Brooke catches her breath, calms herself down a little, and then Vanessa looks back up at Brooke, her face serious again.

“This is about how horny I’ve been lately, ain’t it?” Vanessa asks, staring at Brooke intently. “It’s okay, you can be honest with me. I know you’ve noticed.”

“Yeah.” Brooke shakes her head, her stomach settling down completely once the confession is out. “It’s not that I’m mad about it or anything, I’m just… It’s like you keep starting to initiate something, then pull back, and I’m worried that maybe I’m doing something wrong?”

“Oh, baby, no!” Vanessa takes Brooke’s hand, her face softening with sympathy. “It’s not you, don’t worry ‘bout it. It ain’t anything like that. It’s more that–Well, I guess I mean–I’m…”

“You’re a virgin, and you want to sleep with me but you’re embarrassed and worried you won’t be good enough for me?”

Vanessa looks at Brooke, surprised, and retracts her hand. “How did you know?”

“Scarlet had a hunch.” Brooke snorts, and Vanessa rolls her eyes, smiling a little despite herself.

“Yeah, that’s what it is. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it or anything. I mean, you already know I’m a romantic. I was just tryna wait for the right person. And now…well, I think I found her. And suddenly I’m afraid I might mess it up.”

Aww. Brooke feels her heart melt, and can’t help but smile as she reaches across the table to grab Vanessa’s hand again, patting it gently. “Listen, you won’t. I would never think anything bad about you. I love you, okay? By default, it’s gonna be good because of that. And anyway, things always get better with practice, right?”

“Right.” Vanessa still sounds a little skeptical, but her face evens out when Brooke leans over and meets Vanessa’s lips halfway over the table to give her a little kiss.

“You already know what to do, I promise.” Brooke reassures her. “Just let your instincts guide you, and I’ll teach you the rest, alright?”

“Alright.” Vanessa smiles, squeezing Brooke’s hand back, and Brooke relaxes, finally sure that everything’s going to be okay.

“So…”

“So.” Brooke laughs. “Let’s put on a movie and see where it goes, yeah?”

Vanessa doesn’t even have to say anything, nor give it a second thought; without skipping a beat, she’s pushing herself up from the table and grabbing Brooke’s arm, dragging her towards her bedroom.

–

They’re only about half an hour into Ghostbusters when Vanessa’s head finds its way to Brooke’s lap, and Brooke finds herself stroking Vanessa’s hair as they pretend to watch the movie. It’s nice, cozy, even, and Brooke is content to keep feeling the softness of Vanessa’s hair, keep hearing the soft sighs of pleasure she lets out as her eyes flutter closed, then open, then closed again. To stay like this forever with Vanessa, just the two of them and the movie in their own world.

Only then Vanessa squirms a little, and whines in protest when Brooke pulls her hand away. And after a few more moments of restlessness from the shorter woman, Brooke notices that Vanessa’s legs are squeezed together, moving more than any other part of her body.

Oh.  

Brooke smiles, a sudden flash of arousal stirring between her legs. Looks like things are about to get interesting.

“You alright, baby girl?” she brings her hand down from Vanessa’s hair to stroke her cheek lightly, gleefully biting down on her lip when Vanessa shivers at the touch. “You seem a little distracted.”

“I’m— Oh. ” Vanessa sighs when Brooke brings her hand lower still, trailing her fingertips along Vanessa’s body at a snail’s pace and delighting in every goosebump that appears in their wake.

“I’m okay, I’m just—“ Vanessa cuts off suddenly, letting out a whimper and beginning to squirm again when Brooke’s hand finally reaches her chest.

“You’re what, sweetheart?” Brooke watches Vanessa intently as she starts to explore the younger woman’s breasts over her shirt, feeling and experimenting, waiting to see her reaction, making sure she knows that she can get away if she wants to.

“I’m… oh, fuck, Brooke, keep doing that…” Vanessa melts into Brooke’s touch as she finally palms one of her tits, squeezing and massaging it gently, just a little warm-up.

“There we go,” she purrs, “that feel good, Ness? You like it when Mami plays with you like this?”

The nickname isn’t new—it’s something Vanessa’s thrown around a lot, a title she pulls out whenever she wants to reel Brooke into the palm of her hand. It always works, of course, earning her kisses and cuddles and occasionally a completely free dinner. It’s not something Brooke dislikes, either; in fact, it makes her feel powerful, sexy, even. Like she’s in control, because Vanessa wants her to be. So it feels completely right to use now, and if the way Vanessa nods eagerly is any indication, it seems she’s made the right choice.

“Yes, Mami, fuck, I like it so much.” Vanessa moans, leaning into Brooke’s touch.

“Good, I’m glad.” Brooke praises, and fuck it, she’s proud of herself, relieved that she’s actually helping Vanessa, actually making her feel good. Showing her that she’s made the right decision, not just in doing what they’re doing now, but in deciding to share it with Brooke.

Still, there are plenty more things Brooke wants to show Vanessa, and she knows she’d better get to it.

“You know, there’s lots of other ways I can make you feel good, too.” Brooke leans down to plant a teasing kiss on Vanessa’s jaw, smiling against Vanessa’s skin when the shorter woman whimpers and squirms a little more. “What d’you think, baby, want me to show you? Want Mami to make you feel all nice, teach you everything she knows?”

Vanessa doesn’t even have to hesitate this time.

“Yes, Mami, fuck, please, yes. ”

“Good girl.” Brooke forces herself to keep her movements slow and exploratory as she continues to touch Vanessa, moving her hand away from her chest and down her body again.

Truth be told, Brooke would love nothing more than to drag Vanessa up further onto the bed, climbing on top of her and peeling off her clothes in a flurry of kissing and biting and needing her now . But Vanessa is right–she is a romantic, and Brooke wants to give her the exact kind of slow, sensual first time she knows Vanessa is probably looking for.

So instead, she pays attention to every part of Vanessa’s body, keeping an eye out for places that make the younger woman sigh a little louder, clench her legs a little tighter together. She’ll need that knowledge for later, after all.

“Can I touch you here? Like, between your legs?” Brooke pauses when she reaches Vanessa’s pubic bone, right above her slit, pressing down a little to bring Vanessa just a little closer to the edge and giggling when Vanessa responds by keening up into Brooke’s hand, urging her to press down harder.

“If you don’t, we ‘bout to have problems.” Vanessa growls, and she doesn’t have to tell Brooke twice–she trails her hand down all the way between Vanessa’s legs, cupping her pussy through her pants and rubbing it slowly, but firmly.

“So cute, baby.” Brooke murmurs, kissing Vanessa again. “My cute little princess, so desperate for me.”

Vanessa whines, her hips bucking back into Brooke’s hand. “Please, Mami, please, give me more, I need more…”

“Mm, you sure, angel?” Brooke plays at deliberating, despite the fact that her fingers are already circling the button of Vanessa’s jeans, toying and teasing at the cool metal clasps. “You sure you want more?”

“Yes. ” Vanessa hisses, and fuck it, Brooke just can’t hold out any longer.

Brooke undoes Vanessa’s jeans fast, plunging her hand inside to feel Vanessa’s slit over her panties. She gasps when her fingers make contact with the thin cotton fabric, meeting a sticky, slick wetness that’s practically soaking them through.

“My, my.” Brooke tuts, trying her best to conceal her excitement, the way her heart pounds in her chest as she continues to tease at Vanessa’s cunt. “Aren’t we a mess? No, don’t move, baby, keep letting me feel you–there we go.”

She brings her other hand around to Vanessa’s chest, toying with her tits again as she continues to rub Vanessa through her panties, working her way up to focus on the other woman’s clit. “God, you’re so sweet like this, all desperate for me. I should just tease you forever, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“No, no, please, please Mami.” Vanessa whines plaintively, practically shaking as she tries her best to be good, tries her best to stay still. “Please, touch me for real, I need it so bad.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Brooke finally gives in, because she needs it too, needs to feel Vanessa’s cunt under her fingers, needs to taste it, needs to hear Vanessa’s moans in full force, see what she looks like when she comes. “Get up for me, baby, let’s get all this off.”

Brooke doesn’t think she’s ever seen Vanessa move as fast as she does in that moment, springing up so suddenly she practically headbutts Brooke in her haste to shed all her clothes and clamber up to the top of the bed.

“Oh my God, slow down!” Brooke laughs, her character broken as she chases after Vanessa, wriggling out of her own clothes in the process. “Baby, don’t rush, come on.”

But Vanessa doesn’t listen, only tossing her arms over Brooke’s neck and pulling her into an eager kiss.

“Hi.” Brooke smiles widely when they separate again, her chest swelling with affection when she sees how flushed Vanessa is, how she’s practically glowing with happiness.

“Hi.” Vanessa smiles back, her eyes sparkling with excitement and contentment, and Brooke thinks she’s never seen Vanessa look so beautiful as she does right then, blushing and sweating and biting her lip as she tries to catch her breath.

“I love you so much.” the words come out softly on the heels of another kiss, then another, this time against Vanessa’s jawline, then her neck, then down, down, down to her collarbone, each peck and nip carrying yet another statement, another confession, you’re beautiful, thank you for sharing this with me, I love you, I love you, I love you.  

“I love you too.” Vanessa murmurs, her eyes hooded and voice thick with need. “Now please, just fuck me already.”

Brooke snorts, but obliges with pleasure. She continues to trail kisses down Vanessa’s body, taking her time to lick and suck at her girlfriend’s skin, the tang of Vanessa’s sweat lingering on her lips. She finally reaches Vanessa’s tits, and barely hesitates before taking one of her nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and sucking gently.

“Oh, fuck…”

“That feel good, baby?” Brooke comes off Vanessa’s nipple just enough to be able to whisper out the question, just enough to make sure that Vanessa can still feel her hot breath against its hardened, now-wet bud.

“Fuck yeah, it does.” Vanessa gasps.

“Mm, I don’t know.” Brooke replaces her mouth with her fingers, tracing and circling Vanessa’s nipple with deft, light movements. “I mean, you say that, but what does your pussy think, hm? Should we check?”

She trails her other hand down Vanessa’s body, smirking as she watches the younger girl shiver, before planting it between her legs, bringing two fingers to her slit.

“So wet for me!” Brooke gasps with an edge of mock surprise, one that makes Vanessa giggle a little. “Goodness, all this already? Poor baby, must’ve been so pent up all this time.”

“Tell me, princess,” she sobers quickly, her voice low as she nips at Vanessa’s neck, “you’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you? Thinking about my hands on your cunt, rubbing you out and making you feel all nice? Your pussy certainly feels like you have.”

Vanessa nods, whimpering. “Yeah, Mami, fuck yeah. Been touching myself while I think about it, pretending my hands are yours.”

“Oh?” Brooke plays with Vanessa’s folds, gathering wetness onto her fingers before finally tracing her way up to Vanessa’s clit and beginning to circle it gently. “Well, what do you think, sweetheart, is it everything you expected? Hm?”

“No.” Vanessa laughs, bucking her hips in search of more pressure from Brooke’s fingers. “It’s even better.”

Brooke can’t help the pride that swells in her chest, spurring her on to go a little faster, press down a little more firmly. “Good, that’s what I like to hear.”

She continues to rub at Vanessa’s clit for a while, varying her pace and pressure, switching directions and occasionally breaking her circles to go up and down or side to side, but soon, they reach a plateau, Vanessa moaning and panting but getting no closer to the edge. It doesn’t worry Brooke too much; it’s perfectly normal to have difficulty reaching orgasm sometimes, especially on someone’s first time, when they don’t necessarily know what to direct you to do. Still, Vanessa not being able to come is definitely not how she wants her first time to end, so she switches it up, asks if she can put a finger or two inside her.

“Yeah, please.” Vanessa agrees.

Brooke is about to oblige, when she notices that something is… off. Vanessa’s eyes have taken on an air of worry, and the way she’s chewing on her lip is more nervous than aroused.

Shit.

“Are you okay? Do you need to stop?” Brooke gets up and takes her hands away, giving Vanessa room to breathe, but Vanessa just shakes her head, blushing crimson.

“I’m okay!” she waves her hands frantically, her eyes wide. “Really, I don’t need to stop. I was just… I wanted to say…”

“What is it?” Brooke moves close to Vanessa again, wrapping her into a hug and kissing her on the cheek. “It’s okay, Ness, you can tell me. I wanna make you feel good no matter what.”

“Well, I just… I really liked your dirty talk, is all. It really fucking turned me on. But I didn’t wanna knock off your concentration, ‘cause then…”

“‘Cause then what?” Brooke sucks in a breath, her confidence deflating in her chest just a little as she waits for the answer she knows is coming.

“I was afraid you’d get mad and stop.” Vanessa mutters, looking down at herself.

“Oh, baby, no.” Brooke pulls her closer still, squeezing her tightly. “I wouldn’t get mad at you over something like that. Hell, I’d be happy . I want you to tell me what makes you feel good, it’s a good thing when you feel safe to.”

“Besides,” she adds with a conspiratorial wink, “you know how much I love a chance to mouth off.”

Vanessa turns to look up at her, and thank God, all of the doubt has been wiped from her face, a wry, mischievous smile left in its place.

“Well come on then,” Vanessa cranes up to give Brooke a slow, teasing kiss, “get to it, Mami.”

“That’s more like it.” Brooke eases Vanessa down, once again settling on top of her like it’s the easiest thing in the world, the place she really belongs. “Now why don’t you open those pretty little legs for me, sweetheart? Let me see that cute little pussy, I wanna make sure it’s still nice and wet for me…”

It is, and so Brooke slowly slips a finger inside, still working on Vanessa’s clit with her thumb.

“ Awww. ” Brooke coos at Vanessa’s moans, soft and desperate as Brooke picks up her pace, starting to pump her fingers in and out of Vanessa’s cunt in search of her spot. “You like when I fuck you like this, baby? Look at you, you don’t even know what to do, you feel so good. Bet this is much better than using your own hand, huh? Isn’t this better?”

Vanessa is too far gone to do anything but nod, so Brooke fills in the words for her. “Your pussy is so pretty, baby. Just the cutest little thing, all wet and puffy for Mami. I just fucking love it. Maybe next I should taste it, huh? Eat you out so good you won’t be able to think about anything but my tongue for the next three days. I bet you taste so fucking good, you’re already so sweet, I could just…Oh? What’s this?”

Brooke stops in her tracks when Vanessa’s breath suddenly hitches, her whole body going rigid for a moment, and Brooke realizes that she’s found Vanessa’s spot.

Jackpot.

“Look at that!” She hums, hooking her fingers over Vanessa’s spot as she keeps pumping in and out of her entrance with more and more gusto every time Vanessa gasps or begs for more. “So responsive, aren’t we? Sensitive, too! Aw, poor baby, you must just be overwhelmed, aren’t you? Don’t even know how to deal with how good I’m making you feel. Guess that just means I’ll have to fuck you more and get you used to it, yeah? Get you nice and trained to take my fingers?”

“ Fuck , yes Mami, oh fuck, yes, oh God!” Vanessa’s voice is hoarse as she cries out, her knuckles blanching from gripping the sheets underneath her so hard. “ Just please, please don’t stop, please keep going, please keep fucking me—“

Brooke pounds her fingers into Vanessa with one final, deep thrust, and Vanessa’s words are cut short, swallowed into a silent scream. Brooke fucks her all the way through her orgasm, easing her down from it and slowly bringing her movements to a stop while Vanessa settles, still shaking despite finally relaxing again.

“You alright, Ness?” Brooke checks in as she slowly pulls out, coming around to lay next to Vanessa. She’s expecting Vanessa to nod, smile, maybe even say something about how good she felt, hopefully how she wants to do it again.

Instead, though, Vanessa looks Brooke dead in the eyes as she grabs the blonde’s hand and takes her fingers in her mouth, sucking gently.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Brooke chuckles, and Vanessa rolls her eyes, grinning a little despite herself.

“It sure is.” Vanessa finally lets Brooke’s fingers go, licking her lips. “Fuck, Mami, that was fucking amazing. Thank you so much.”

“No, you were amazing.” Brooke kisses Vanessa on top of her head, pulling her close again and cradling her in her arms. “I’m so glad I could give you a good first time, babe.”

“About that.” Vanessa perks up a little, her hand suddenly finding its way up Brooke’s body and settling on her waist. “Any chance you up for teachin’ me how to thank you?”

Brooke grins, the old fire in her belly starting up again as her mind fills with ideas for what could come next.

“Absolutely.” She kisses Vanessa’s cheek before sitting up, gesturing for Vanessa to crawl on top of her.

“What d’you think, baby, wanna learn how someone else’s pussy tastes?”

“That I do.” Vanessa grins as she settles over Brooke, looking her over like she’s something good to eat. “Why don’t we get started?”