iwouldfightforfrenchie

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 3)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic is doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 4.49k

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

BEEP BEEP BEEP

BEEP BEEP BEEP

BEEP BE-

You snatch your phone and squeeze its power button as if trying to choke it dead, tossing it back on your nightstand with your face still buried in your Sanrio plushies. You slowly turn your body to lie on your back, rubbing your eyes resentfully as the morning light threatens to blind you. To your dismay, your sight finally adjusts and you force yourself to sit up. Your mood is always sour after a deep slumber, and the placelessness of your home isn’t doing much to alleviate that; your room is messy - bags of random shit on the floor, small containers full of trash, neglected dishes in strange areas. And yet there is no real personality to your room; no posters, no vibrant colors, the Kuromi and My Melody pillows you bought just seem like a lazy attempt at decorating such a boring space. Even the smell of your room consists simply of old hand-me-downs and stale food. But you have no energy to change that. Especially not on a work day.

If it weren't for Lee driving you home last night you’d be hurting even more than you already are. You walk into your bathroom and turn your sink faucet, wondering what his morning routine consists of. He always seems so put together and disciplined- you never see him in a low mood besides the time he thought he was weirding you out. Which gives you a warm, tingly feeling inside. You brush your teeth, take a shower, do your skincare, and decide to put on a purple nursing uniform - you want to feel a bit more regal today. Sliding off your bonnet, you neaten the coils of your hair with a basic style and a couple of decorative jewels you bought from the beauty supply. 

You only prepare cereal for breakfast, just need to put something in your stomach before taking your meds and vitamins. Your entire apartment is silent, aside from the subtle crunching as you chew, and the tick-tocking of your vintage clock - which never tells the right time. The lighting of your kitchen is dull and old, and the cracked white paint coating the walls threatens to peel away with every passing second. You wash your bowl and spoon after eating. You hate taking pills because they almost always get stuck in your throat. But you need them, at least that's what your psychiatrist says, what your family says, what the internet says.

You head to the living room and put on your coat (the news says the temperature will drop), carry your other necessities for the day, and lock your front door behind you. The train you take to work is a couple of blocks away, and as you walk there you shut your mouth to keep your teeth from clattering.

“Shit,” you hiss, watching your breath frost in the air as you dig your fists in the cotton of your pockets. You would’ve asked Shika to drive you to the hospital but he’s already working in his office, and you just didn't wanna spend your precious money on an Uber. Plus… you need the exercise? 

-

It's been a month since you and Lee first met. As you make your way to the hospital, Lee’s training his disciples with Neji. They both stroll together while monitoring the men who stand on their arms instead of their legs, descending and rising with every push-up. They’re quiet like trees, anyone can see the almost agonizing dedication mold the contours of their muscles as they lift their bodies. It reminds Lee of the times he never failed to catch how your widening eyes would ogle his profession - his passion - with pure adoration. You’d cheer on his students when they duel and support the ones who struggle or are insecure with their craft. 

“Thank you for assisting me on your day off, Neji. I know how busy life gets,” Lee says, scratching the back of his head while watching for any signs of faltering performances. 

Neji nods with a quiet scoff. “You know I'll always have room for taijutsu, and you’re family.” He folds his hands behind his back. “How’s the dojo?”

Lee’s eyes light aflame. “It’s never been better! More people are attending after y/n joined.”

“Ah…yes, I never got to properly thank her for her treatment. It was excellent.” Neji tilted his head up, dwelling on the patches he had removed several days ago.

“I know, right? Members who didn't visit often started coming every week just to see her. She teaches such great things.”

Neji hums with acknowledgment. “You should tell her that. Maybe during dinner?”’

Lee looks down at the matted floor, eyes frowning with a lopsided smile. He grips his nape with a chuckle.

“Hehe, I dunno. She seems hella busy.”

Neji scowls, his long locks swaying to the shake of his head. “Everyone’s busy. Don’t let that stop you from having fun.”

Lee sighs.

“Thank you, Neji.” His hand falls to his hip. Both men ignore the growing grunts of exhaustion amongst the students.

“Plus she might be lonely. Like you.”

“I’m not!” Lee sputtered. “I have you, Guy Sensei, my students -“

A faint crack resonates in the short distance- causing them both to snap their heads at his disciples- a couple of them break their positions, resting on their knees as they gasp for air. Lee claps his hands firmly, making sure the cacophony echoes throughout the dojo..

“COME ON EVERYBODY, YOU GOT THIS!” Lee hollers. “IF YOU CAN’T DO FIVE HUNDRED PUSH-UPS, THEN DO ONE THOUSAND SQUATS!”

“YES, SENSEI.” The students yell back, some landing on their feet so they can squat while others continue to push up on their hands. 

Neji clears his throat. “Yes, you have us, but I saw how you looked at her. When was the last time you went on a date? You used to love meeting new people.”

Lee’s lips slowly press together while he stares down at his feet; images of him chugging bottles of liquor, fucking nameless women, neglecting his dojo, and the painful numbness of it all flash before his eyes.

 “I… I was in a dark place.”

Neji turns to Lee and stops him, his eyes softening when he watches his friend blush in shame.

“You can still have healthy romantic and intimate relationships. Did Guy Sensei ever teach you to let your past determine your future? To let someone’s actions spoil your happiness for good?”

Lee’s round eyes wander back up in thought.

“Hmm, and yet he never let me live down the time I set his signature jumpsuit on fire trying to iron it out.”

Neji tried to smirk, but the hilariousness of that memory cracked his face with a reluctantly big smile.

“He was devastated.” Neji replies. “Wouldn't look at you until you made him another one -”

“And when he would look at me, he’d look at me like I hit a dog or some crap!” Lee guffaws, leaning his arm on his friend who shook with silent laughter.

“As I was saying.” Neji clears his throat once more. “Just give yourself a try. You might be glad you did it.”

Lee sighs again. 

“What are you, my guru or something?”

“Now, wouldn’t you like that?”

Both men chuckle at the thought.

-

It's 7:30, and you’re about to wrap up your final shift by preparing Ms. Fink for bed. You’re sitting beside her while she lies on a queen-sized mattress, monitoring her blood pressure while she’s sipping the milk you fetched for her. She lowers her cup with a grimace.

“My milk is cold.” She glares at the cuff tightening around her veiny arm. “If I drink it cold, then I can’t sleep. Go warm it up.”

Your eyes continue to scan the data for her vitals, the only thing giving away your disgust at her attitude is the subtle crease of your brows. You thank your ancestors for your professionalism because if you didn’t hold yourself to a higher standard, you’d tell her to go fuck her wrinkly face.

“I’ll do it right after I’m done recording your vitals for the night.”

You make sure to repress any natural vibrato in your tone that gives off irritation. Ms. Fink grunts an exasperated sigh, squeezing the chilled cup while frowning at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, child. I’ve just been so stressed lately and I haven’t been getting very good sleep. Don’t mind me, the TV will help doze me off.”

You gulp, taking note of the quiet static resonating from the television framed on the wall.

“Sure.” You mumble.

You deflate the blood pressure cuff and gently unwrap it from the patient’s arm, turning it off once all the important data is saved. You email Ms. Fink’s daily medical write-off to your supervisor, Brandon, and get your shit. You open the front door, but before you leave you turn to the old lady.

“If you need anything, press the red help button to your right. Brandon is on his way. Sleep well.”

You shut the door behind you and bounce.

As Ms. Fink carefully places her cup of milk on the nightstand, her eyes nearly bulge out of her sockets, lips quivering with spite as she stares at the door you exited from.

-

You open the door to the dojo and a bell jingles at your entrance. Some eyes land on you while others continue to focus on their preoccupations. Rock Lee whips his head at your entrance, excusing himself from Neji so he can approach you. He has to remind himself to not scramble and bump people out of his way just to get to you. You can’t help but lighten up at the eagerness that he doesn’t even bother to hide. When you're both face to face, your name tumbles from his lips as if he likes how it tastes when he says it; reciting it like a sacred poem. his personal way of greeting you.

“Hi.” You nearly squeak out, trying to compose yourself at seeing his effortlessly handsome smile up close.

You shrug off your coat and tuck your scarf in its sleeve, which reminds Lee of something.

“I have something for you.” He slightly raises his open palm to you, like he’s urging you not to move. “Can you stay right here for me?”

Every time he asks something of you, he’s so polite and dignified - it kinda scares you. There’s a fond sweetness in the deep timbre of his voice that he only uses on you. It feels like a spell he casts, one that you’re not immune to (yet). One that you’re not even sure he’s aware of.

“Y-Yeah, sure.” 

So you stand there, watching him jog to your office. You soon meet Neji’s gaze. He smiles at you, approaching you with a calculative stride. Once you recognize him, your jaw drops a bit and your eyes light up like bulbs.

“You’re the guy I patched up on my first day here!” you point at him childishly, like a toddler who notices their favorite show airing on TV.

Neji chuckles, “Yes, I am.”

“Gee, I ain't never seen no one fight like you before.”

“Thank you…”

Neji appreciated how you didn't try to compare him to his friend or any other fighter in particular.

“I see your wounds have fully healed,” you continue.

Neji nods. “And for that, I never got to properly thank you. You're one of the finest nurses I've ever had the pleasure of being treated by.”

“D’awww,” you coo as you stare at your shoes. “I try.”

“I’m Neji, by the way. I used to train here every day with Lee until I started pursuing careers of my own.”

“Y/n.” you chirp, offering your hand for a shake. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

He reciprocates with a gently firm hold, yelping when Lee nudges him out of the way to face you. Neji nudges him twice as hard and reclaims his position, side-eyeing him a glare that said “act like you got some damn sense”. You giggle at their dynamic, they reminded you of Shika and Temari.

Shika and Temari, huh?

“Here!”

You look down at Lee’s big hands, presenting you with a pair of lavender cotton slippers. They look so soft and pretty. You glance up at him, and he stares you down with eyes that are so expectant and pure.

“These are f’me?” You deadpan.

“I could see, sometimes, that you like light variants of purple. Plus the only thing protecting your feet from this god-awful floor,” he chuckles nervously, “are the socks you wear when you take off your shoes.”

You remain silent, staring back down at the gift.

“Plus you’ve done so much for us already, the least I could do is make sure you’re comfortable when you work.”

You could feel your chin tense up, threatening to quiver your bottom lip. You gently bite the plump flesh and kick your street shoes off. No one other than your own father has done something like this for you, let alone some man you’ve only known for a month. You reach for the slippers, but he reels them back.

“Allow me to put them on for you.”

Neji chortles at his gall, and usually you would too. But it’s happening to you. You nod meekly, sitting down on a chair behind you. He kneels soon after, subtly caressing the meat of your calf before gently lifting it. His fingers feel so good cradling your legs like this. The outline of your feet alone is enough to show him how pretty they are. He puts your slippers on seamlessly, not even noticing that all of his students stopped practicing just to watch him give you princess treatment.

You are so flattered by this act of kindness. It makes you want to grab his thin muscular waist and hold him tight. And yet something slithers within you. It's freezing, it's isolating. It's damp, it's convincing. It's threatening and paralyzing and -

“Thank you,” you mumble coldly. You clear your throat and reel your legs away from him, snatching your belongings. The students create a path for you to make your way to your office. Lee and Neji watch your retreating form with widened eyes; you looked so happy at the gesture and then… you didn't. 

Neji leans toward his sulking friend and whispers, “Wait till Sensei hears about this.”

Lee folds his arms protectively, raising a bushy brow at the thought.

It’s fear.

Your peripheral vision catches narrow lines of redness on someone’s face. You stop and track them; it's a teenage boy with a nasty scratch mark on his left cheek. 

Duty calls, you think.

The teen carefully watches you walk towards him at a moderate pace.

“Why don’t I clean up that wound on your face before you go back to training? Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

The boy obviously has his guard up; balled fists and slightly raised shoulders. He kind of reminds you of your middle school days. But ultimately, he accepts your offer with a subtle nod and pads behind you to your office.

You hang your coat on the back of your desk chair.

“Have a seat.” You quip.

He ignores your order, simply scanning the details of your room. Accepting his defiance with a shrug- for you refuse to beef with a child- you kneel down to the cabinet below your counter and grab your first aid kit.

“I’m miss y/n. What’s your name?” To be honest, you were a fan of small talk. It helps you connect with people through the most awkward moments.

“…Sasuke.” The boy grumbled, refusing to look at you.

You put on some disposable nitrile gloves. “How long have you been training here, Sasuke?”

Sasuke leans back on the counter and unravels his fists, staring at the mood meter poster on the wall. 

“Three years.”

“Impressive!”

Sasuke’s eyes widen when he catches you getting closer to him, a damp cotton ball trapped between your fingers.

“Let me know when you’re ready.” Uneasiness radiates from his glare alone. “Just gonna clean the excess blood off first.”

The tiniest pout contorts his dry lips. “Fine,” he mumbles.

You start with cleaning the blood around the abrasion, gently rubbing the cotton against his messy skin.

“This is gonna sting,” you coo.

You throw away the used cotton swabs and pour a bit of antiseptic on a new one. You dab it directly on the open wound, and as expected, he winces at the pain.

What you didn’t expect was for him to grab your wrist and yank it away from his face.

Your first thought was to call him a stupid brat and demand he do it himself, but you remember that you’re like - a professional at this. So you take a deep breath and place your tool back on the counter.

“What can I do to make this easier for you?”

Sasuke side eyes you, finally paying attention to your frown of concern and slight frustration. Your voice is smooth and raspy and calming to his ears, which is not the response he wanted from you. But it’s not a response he dislikes either, which makes him feel bad for being difficult. So he huffs and reaches for the bag of cotton balls beside you, taking one out and soaking it with the antiseptic. He hands it to you while staring at the mood meter across from him.

“Jus’ wasn’t ready.” He mumbles apologetically.

You sigh with a small smile and accept the cotton. “Thank you, Sasuke.”

The young man endures the sharp pain of the cold, damp fabric brushing off dried blood and raw skin. But it all falters when you dispose of the swab. You reach inside the medical kit for a wooden applicator stick, and some Neosporin.

“Rough day?” You pry as you spurt some antibacterial ointment on the stick.

Sasuke shuts his eyes, shoulders sagging with an almost exasperated exhalation in an attempt to relieve some stress.

“Me too.” You continue, spreading the colorless cream on a wound dressing pad.

The boy fully faces you this time, a bit shocked that you perceived his body language as an answer in itself. Are you that desperate for conversation? He thinks. Or are you just good at reading people? 

“Hold still please.” You order gently.

 He obeys, and you successfully patch up his left cheek. 

“Here,” you hand him a few more pads. “For daily replacements.”

Sasuke stares at the gift for a few long seconds before shoving it in his pocket, and slightly bows his head with gratitude. He turns around and pads to the door.

Before opening it, he speaks up with a firmer tone, “Hope your day gets better.”

He closes the door behind him, making sure you don’t get the chance to respond. 

My day already is, you think - knowing damn well that boy wouldn’t have come to you for help had you not confronted him. And your medical skills never disappoint, you just love to heal.

-

The Mighty Rock Dojo approaches its closing; Lee rolls up the mats, Neji has already left and the final customer walks out of the door with a farewell. It’s just you and Lee now… nothing new.

Lee lets out a hearty sigh after placing all the mats in their respective areas. “Man, am I beat!”

His stomach growls, making him slouch a bit as he caresses it. “And hungry…”

You giggle at him. He revels in the sweet sound, approaching you to hear more of it.

“What's so funny?” he smirks.

“You,” you deadpan.

His tummy growls again, a bit more impatiently this time.

“…Let me take you home so I can eat.”

He talks like he’s gone tired of you, but you can hear the playfulness in his tone a mile away.

“Yeah okay,” you drawl with a shit-eating grin, stepping into your street shoes and shrugging on your coat.

The drive to your home is pretty peaceful; Miles of city lights illuminate your path, A '90s classic plays in the background as you watch Lee's strong hand gracefully work the steering wheel. He reminds you of your dad in the sense that he’s so quiet when he drives while your dad can’t go a day without cursing and honking at other cars in front of him. It makes you smile fondly.

“How was your day?” you ask.

Lee glances at his rearview mirror in thought.

“Busy… and fun. Yes! Busy and fun.”

When he approaches a red light, he turns to you. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

With the way he called you that pet name, you could listen to him speak for hours.

“Hard,” you reply as you slouch down your seat, Looking straight ahead as your plump glossy lips pout adorably.

Lee just can’t help but smile when looking at you - marveling at how the street lights reflect off your deep complexion. How your coils shine with the obvious care and maintenance you treat them with. How your gorgeous eyes sharpen with a dedicated focus for every patient you treat. how your round cheeks puff up when you smile at something you find funny. how your face softens when you actively listen to someone. your nursing uniform doesn’t do your body much justice, but he can still make up the curves and crevices that adorn it. He marvels at how your thick thighs and hips expand when you sit. how your fat pussy lips poke through the fabric of your pants when you bend down to pick something up.

He’d treat you so, so good. Better than any man… He’d treat you so good if you’d just-

The red light turns green, and his eyes reluctantly focus back on the road.

"What has been hard about your day?” He asks.

The gentle lilt of consideration in his tone makes you want to talk about that old hag, your empty box of a home, and the fact that you hate your mind and how it perceives you. You so badly want to share all your worries. But you just shake your head in despair.

“Doing what you love isn’t always… fun…” you drawl.

Lee hums in agreement, his index finger lightly tapping the steering wheel in thought.

“Well just know that you’re doing fantastic so far. I’m really proud of you, y/n. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

You process his words and lean your head back as you picture patting yourself on the back. “Thank you for that. And thanks for driving me home.”

“It's my pleasure.” he chuckles.

Lee finally pulls up in front of your apartment complex. You don’t notice the veins on his hands popping out as he tightens his grip on the wheel.

“Alrighty,” you sigh as you shift your weight to open the door.

“Uhh, y/n!” Lee grunts out. “Do you have a minute?”

You let go of the handle and turn to face him. You are giving him your full attention like he asked, and yet he feels his heart hitting his chest. However, His relationship with fear is pretty healthy, he’d like to think. Lee releases the steering wheel and folds his hands. He takes a deep breath. You brace yourself for any embarrassment.

“I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

His voice is so painfully clear in the confines of his car, that you can’t even dissociate with any background noise if you tried. Every word was delivered with a confidence and sincerity so fierce, that it feels like a trap. You hate that it feels like some sort of trap.

“I think you like me so much, in fact, that you won’t even accept it. Like, there’s this fear you’re so desperately trying to hide from me. And I don’t know why.”

You don't blink. Your eyes sting terribly but you don’t blink.

“I know we’ve only known each other for a month. But I’ve always wanted you and I think you feel the same.”

Your eyes gloss over, and your lips descend in a frown. He’s well aware of that, but he’s not done.

“So please correct me if I’m wrong but if I’m not, I ask you this: Will you, miss y/n, go on a date with me?”

Somehow, you forget how it feels to breathe. Everything feels like it’s happening so fast but at just the right time. How is that possible? You would usually never feel that way. How is this possible? Why is your face wet with tears? Why do you feel your throat choking on a sob? Why does this man look at you like there is nothing else he would rather do than look at you? Your mind is so cold, why is he so warm? What is this heat blooming in your chest? Why aren’t these tears of despair? Why do you no longer feel like isolating in a dark room but still have the urge to run? Why are you thinking of Shikamaru? Why do the memories of y’all dating pop up in your head? Why now of all times?

Lee patiently waits for your answer, his face falling in  empathy at how quickly you wipe your face.

“You’re right, Lee.” You slur pathetically. “I adore everything about you… wanna be with you every day.”

You scoff, glaaring at a parked car in front of you before looking back at Lee. You clear your throat.

“But I’ve been heartbroken too many fucking times to think that even matters anymore.”

More tears fall down your face and you sniffle, no longer bothering to wipe them away. The man before you sighs, taking in your disheartening state.

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Lee suggests, leaning closer to you because you smell that divine. “But it’s because you’ve got your heart broken so many fucking times, that the most grace you can give yourself is to appreciate the current joys of life.”

You pause to process his words, that was the first time he’s ever cussed in front of you. It sounded like silk and sin pouring straight from his mouth. His delivery is smooth and tender, but the truth of the message is set in stone.

“Y/n, I don’t like to lead my life with a broken heart and neither should you. Please test me, because not only will I pass with flying colors,” he hooks the bottom of your chin with a gentle finger, tilting it up so you can see the deadly determination in his big, wondrous eyes.

“I will make sure you forget every man who has had the luxury of having you and the utter gall to lose you.”

Your eyes widen, because what has this man gone through to be so bold? You wanna fuck him right here in his car like a whore’s rent is due. But alas, you’ve been celibate for years, so you squeeze your hands to restrain yourself from ravaging his lips with yours.

“So now I ask you,” he prompts, teasing your bottom lip with his thumb. “What are you going to do about it?”

You close your lids to ring out any stray tears, and take a shaky breath. Because one thing you will never do, no matter how much pain you have to endure, is not be responsible for your own happiness.

“F-Fine,” you nod your head frantically, voice cracking and warbling with more tears. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

Lee’s face lights up with a smile so blinding that your mouth quivers into a wobbly smile itself, almost forgetting the fierceness of his prior gaze. He’s infectious.

“Thank you for trusting me, beautiful.”

And that was the night Lee made a promise to himself: that he would do everything your exes failed to and more.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 2)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic is doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 3.9k

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You want someone to crave you, to need you. Not in a toxic codependent way, but rather in a way that makes you feel special. That’s why you escaped to the world of shoujo and action/fantasy films when you were a child, it was the closest you got to that feeling of truly falling for someone and being fallen for. Or at least it was the closest you got to being ignorant of how unlovable you felt. And when you grew into your late teens, you drowned your mind in fictional men.

You dream of someone who’d treat you like the queen you are deep down inside. You thought Sai could be that- hell- you thought every guy you dated could be that. But deep down you knew it was impossible, because you didn’t view them as special either. Not anymore, at least.. You are not afraid to live your life the way you want, and all the “love interests” in your past would never determine your future. You’d make sure of it.

To be honest, you’re thinking nothing of that at this very moment. How could you after talking to that hottie you met a week ago? You didn’t reach out to Lee until now due to long hours nursing at your local hospital; keeping track of a dozen medical plans, on top of a new patient assignment makes you feel like your phone burning up at 10%. Plus you love your job (despite how cruel the healthcare system can be), which makes working a bit easier.

You thank the universe for your fast work ethic; tirelessly taking care of people in the early mornings, and finally managing to have a solid break for once. As soon as you get to sit at your favorite cafe in peace, your mind wanders to that dojo you went to. Which struck your memory of getting Lee’s contact info. You usually only text people you’ve just met to test the chemistry, but something about his welcoming aura urges you to risk your pride. You call him, nibbling on your lip while waiting.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Ri-

“This is the Mighty Rock Dojo.”

 The deep bass thrumming in his tone is hushed and calm. It sets your goosebumps aflame, making you sit up so you can speak at your clearest.

“Heyyyy, it’s y/n! I treated your friend last week.” You shut your eyes, not intending for your pitch to raise that high.

A smile slowly adorns his face at how cute you sound, and that you actually bothered to follow up with him.

“I remember exactly who you are, y/n! I’m glad to hear from you.”

Your eyes flicker to the wooden table you rest your arms on, gulping at his poise. Lee pads his way to his personal office, not wanting to disturb his students’ meditation break.

“Same here. I just wanted to…”

You pause to consider if your already full schedule could take a new hobby.

“…to know the entire schedule of your dojo so I can see what times are right for me.”

The taijutsu master leans on his front desk, free hand gripping its smooth edge.

“Yes of course! I’ll text you all the information after this call. There’s a flier here waiting for your return.”

“Heh, didn't mean to leave so soon last time.” Yes, you did. “Thanks, sensei.”

“Don’t sweat it. How's your week so far?”

A part of you considers going with the standard ‘it’s been okay’, but you’re at a point in your life where you hate lying to yourself- no matter how easy it is to do so.

“It’s been strenuous… I’m now on my first proper break in weeks.” 

You like how Lee hisses through his teeth in genuine concern. You wonder what other scenarios would cause him to make that sound.

“It’s no pressure if this may not be the best time for you-”

“No it’s fine- I mean I don’t wanna wipe someone’s ass and endure shitty behavior for the rest of my career. I want to heal people the way they’ve healed me.”

Lee chuckles briefly at your determination. You like how that sounds too. Everything about him you like so far and you've only talked twice, you could feel your skin crawling.

“And you will. How about you stop by after work? We close kind of late anyways.”

Your chest blooms at his support, body starting to feel lighter for some reason. You clear your throat.

“Today?”

“Today.” He confirms.

Lee twiddles with the hem of his Gi absentmindedly, waiting patiently for your response.

“Yeah, okay… s-see you after seven?”

“See you after seven.”

-

A few hours pass after thoroughly enjoying your burrito and latte with some Netflix. You’re now on your final shift, completing your hand-off for your colleague Brandon. He’s been overseeing you since you transferred to this hospital. It’s bigger and more advanced than you’re used to, so Brandon was the first to show you the ropes. It’s 6:54 as you email your finalized report to him, hearing the shrieking metal of wheels rolling closer to the office you reside in.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Come in.”

Spinning your chair to face the door, you find Brandon entering with an old lady sitting prim and proper on her wheelchair. Her small, veiny hands fold over her tummy, loose white locks framing the moles that scatter her wrinkly face. It’s like she was made to wear that throw blanket for a shawl.

“Oh? Who’s the lovely guest, Brandon?” You chirp as you rise from your seat, cringing inside at how your voice’s raspiness may’ve given away your exhaustion.

Your supervisor brings the senior closer to you for a better acquaintance.

“This lovely guest, until further notice, is your new patient: Ms. Fink.”

You sit on your haunches to meet her at eye level. You would offer your hand for a shake, but this is your first meet and you’re not 100% familiar with her medical conditions.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Fink. I’m y/n, and I can’t wait to help you on your road to recovery.”

Ms. Fink’s beady eyes scan your welcoming figure, enjoying the sight of you kneeling for her. She nods slowly with a subtle smile, which you take as a step in the right direction.

“Her family had just dropped her off here, so you’ll be overseeing her first thing next week. Did you send me the hand-off?”

You place your hands on your knees to stand up.

“Just emailed it before you came in.”

“Good, now go get some rest. And I’ll be taking you,” he looks down at Ms. Fink, “to your room. Say goodbye to your new nurse?”

The lady unfolds her hands to give you a wave before she’s turned around and escorted out.

“See ya later!” You wave back.

…you snatch your jacket, purse, and bounce.

-

It takes a few train stops and a bus ride to get to the dojo, which isn't bad. You’re just wondering how long it’d take to get back home. Opening the door, that familiar bell jingles at your entrance. You stand behind the front desk, face lighting up at the sight before you:

A group of toddlers are in basic horse stances, their fists positioned at their hips. Lee strolls languidly around his students, hands folded behind his back as he watches them like a hawk. He takes a deep breath.

“You want to unlock the first gate?” The way he asks is eerily calm.

“Yes, sensei!!” The kids shout.

“Then use your core. STRIKE!” He roars.

“HA!” The kids adorably return the enthusiasm, all simultaneously throwing a firm punch.

“STRIKE!”

“HA!!”

Your shoulders stiffen at how fierce Lee is, even with kids. ‘He really said it’s free eats’, you laugh to yourself.

“Everyone in a circle.” His hands echo a clap and the children scatter like critters to form a ring. He scans the kids, silently noting the ones who have yet to spar. He glances at a particularly frail child, who stares down at the belt she’s squeezing.

“Orchid, come.” He orders, tone stern but not harsh enough to scare her.

Orchid flinches anyway, her face falling at the fact that she’s been chosen. Hesitantly, she trots her way to the center where Lee is. The master side eyes another kid, noticing her rocking back and forth with a tight smile on her face. As if she’s trying to suppress her eagerness.

“Amanda, come.”

The child lights up, practically sprinting to her spot in front of Orchid. Lee kneels between the two, one hand on each shoulder.

“Trust what you have learned, and your body will do the rest.” 

“Yes, Sensei Lee!”

“Yes, sensei…”

Their master gives them a warm smile, before rising to take a step back. He raises his arm beside his head.

“Bow.”

The children lower their heads to pay respects, and take a few steps back to position into their preferred fighting stances: Amanda’s stance is more open, taking an offensive approach. Orchid’s is more defensive, balled fists guarding her face without blocking her eyesight. Everyone’s watching, even your own stare is glued to the students. Lee casts down his hand.

“BEGIN!”

Amanda charges at Orchid, aiming a hit right for her chin. Orchid uses her forearms to block the punch- hissing at the force- while trying not to get backed into the boundary, for if you touch anyone in the circle you lose. Amanda throws a barrage of kicks and jabs her way, yelling and grunting with every strike to intimidate. Her opponent continues to block her advances. As terrified as Orchid looks right now, she is deflecting her attacks pretty well, for each blow that comes her way she redirects with firm open palms. You aren’t too surprised, Lee’s a genius.

Amanda is cooking her shit though, the sharp sound of her punches giving away the damage she inflicts, and the other kids start to cheer her on as she steadily dominates Orchid. You divert your attention to Lee, and he’s watching the unfolding event with a stoic face. Some distance forms between the two fighters, and Amanda uses that to her advantage by vertical jumping in the air and raising her leg in an axe kick. 

Orchid’s eyes widen in horror but successfully dodges the kick that would’ve ended the fight. While Amanda’s feet are still bound to the ground, Orchid lowers her body and twirls her leg; planting a round-house kick straight to her opponent’s jaw. Amanda’s back hits the matted floor at the force. She groans petulantly, stunned at how easily she fell for that move.

“The winner,” Sensei Lee casts a hand in Orchid’s direction, “is Orchid!”

A loud silence envelopes the room for a moment before everyone applauds Orchid’s bravery and skill, you even add in a little “woop woop” to boost morale. She was going to offer a hand to help Amanda get up, but she yelps at a dense pain coursing through her left ankle- the one she leaned on to perform that roundhouse kick. Orchid drops to the floor, holding her calf to make sure no unnecessary pressure adds to it. Lee rushes to her side.

“Orchid, what’s wrong?” Caution and worry furrow his bushy eyebrows as he descends beside her to scan for problems.

“It..it hurts,” she whimpers.

Andddd that’s your cue. You hurriedly kick off your sneakers, politely excusing yourself when walking through the wall of kids. Lee’s head snaps up at your figure and beams with a quiet sigh of relief.

“My name’s miss y/n, I’m the dojo’s new nurse. Can you tell me what hurts, sweetheart?” You coo, placing a safe hand on her small back. She physically relaxes at the gesture.

“M-My ankle. It hurts.” Your eyes never left hers, nodding your head to show that you’re listening to every word.

“Hmm, I think you might’ve sprained it, Orchid.” You raise your head to look at Lee.

 “Sensei, do you have strong bandages and some Icy Hot?”

“Uhhh- mhm!” Lee gulps, blushing at you calling him sensei. Even though that’s what he told you he preferred, he is a bit stupefied at your effortless professionalism and charm. You look back down at Orchid.

“Can I carry you to my office?” Your office, huh? “Don’t wanna worsen your sprain, now do we?”

Orchid slowly nods her head, eyes widening at how validating you are. You carefully hook one arm under her knees, and hook the other under her back,  inwardly swooning at her visibly melting in your hold. Making your way to your office, you find Lee with a roll of elastic bandages in one hand and a plastic jar of Icy Hot in the other.

“Makin’ sure I’m prepared, sensei?” You tease, and Lee chuckles at your implication.

“It’d be unacceptable if you weren’t.”

You gently place Orchid on the thin mattress, watching her feet dangle off the bed. You turn to face Lee, who's already staring at you.

“Thank you. I’m sure there are a bunch of toddlers waiting for you out there.”

“O-Oh… right!” Lee places the requested materials on a small table next to you. Lee kneels down in front of Orchid, meeting her at eye level.

“I’m gonna call your mother so you can get home safely, okay Orchid?”

“Y-Yes, sensei.”

Lee now locks his eyes on yours.

“And if you need anything else, there’s more equipment in the cabinets for you.”

Despite him looking up at you, his gaze makes you feel small- leaves you wanting to do everything he tells you to.

“Yes, sensei!”

Lee nods his head and stands up, heading to the front desk’s telephone by the dojo. He orders the kids to sit and meditate in silence while he punches in Orchid’s mom’s number. Lee sighs, wondering if this is how Might Guy felt when he was training kids here: happy that he can care for them and make them stronger, but also somber, knowing that they won’t be cute little rascals forever.

You put on disposable nitrile gloves and open the plastic jar of Icy Hot. Orchid stares at the blue concoction.

“S’that? It smells minty.” She asks meekly.

“This, my dear, is Icy Hot,” you dip your fingers in the product. “It helps with muscle and joint pain. The strong smell comes from menthol.”

Orchid winces when you lather the cream on her ankle.

“It’s cold!” She squeaks. You giggle at her cuteness.

“I know, but it’ll get warmer in a few minutes.”

You steadily wrap the bandage securely around her aching limb, telling her to warn you if it’s too tight. 

“You did really well out there, Orchid.” You prompt as a matter—of—factly while disposing of your nitrile gloves.

“…you think so?”

“Know so!” You sit beside her and smile at her pouty face. “You kept fighting, even when the odds of you winning looked slim.”

She hugs your arm, the most comfortable way of showing her gratitude, and confirms that you’ve done your job well. You caress her hair as she holds you, and tell her not to move until her mom arrives.

-

A couple more hours pass, and luckily no more students have to visit your office. You spend the rest of your time there watching Lee and other fighters train rigorously, and others slack off, as you would expect. The dojo finally concludes its classes for the day. It’s half past 10, and you are itching to get home. Well- not until you’ve concluded your day with Lee, of course. You walk up on the sensei rolling up his mats and carrying them to their respective areas.

“You were so badass today,” you quip. “As per usual.”

You kinda felt like a loser for dick riding, but you mean it and he deserves to know.

“Thanks! I could say the same for you myself, miss y/n.” You grip the back of your neck at his teasing as he approaches you with a smirk.

“Thank you. Anddddd especially that stance you taught your students! How long does it usually take to master? Does it hurt? How do they get so still?” 

You rambling on about your interest in the martial art blooms Lee’s chest open. It’s like you’re unlocking a new level of fondness that he harbors just for you.

“Would you like me to show you?”

Your voice dies in your throat.

Huh?

“I-I mean you can try,” you laugh sheepishly. “I’m a beginner’s beginner. Sooo-“

“Okay!” He chirps, taking one step closer to you. “Can I guide your movements?”

“Mhm!” you chirp, thinking nothing of it. Lee raises a brow at you, expecting a proper response.

“… I mean yes! Yes, Sensei Lee.” The master hums in satisfaction. You think of crawling into a hole.

“Turn your hands into fists.”

You ball your fingers, thumbs caging your encased knuckles.

“Good. Now place your left fist by your hip… uhuh. Extend your right arm in front of you, like a punch, and keep your fist.”

You raise your arm up, feeling like you have a good idea of how to enact this stance when he nods his head in encouragement.

“Now, spread your feet.”

You look down at your legs and create space between them.

“Wider.” He commands. You spread them a little more.

“Wider… good, remember that they must be 3 feet apart.”

You’d be lying if you say you don’t feel the burn, it's been a long time since you've physically pushed yourself like this. But you trust the process.

“Now bend your knees… lower.” His face is unreadable, the way he speaks is cold and direct- but never with disdain. Your body freezes in horror at how hot it is to you.

Lee walks around you, like a vulture circling its prey, and you don’t dare move until he says so. You can’t see what he’s doing until you jolt at the way he gently clutches your hips. His touch shocks every nerve in your body, making you tense up and soften all at once. His bandaged fingers are long and slender; you know they’re deadly weapons and yet his grip on you coaxes your muscles to mold at his will. He leans in until his chin hovers over your shoulder, catching a whiff of your coils up close; shea butter and vanilla. It’s dizzying how sweet and inviting you smell.

“Lower, miss y/n.” His deep tone rasping right beside your ear has you shivering, and the way he slowly pushes you down with his hands until you are at the ideal altitude strikes lightning in your tummy. He releases you and takes a step back, admiring his current direction.

“There. You’re now in a semi-decent horse stance!” He quips, arms folding in triumph.

You scoff at his sarcasm. Is this nigga serious? You think.

Am I even serious? Maybe he was doing it purely out of instruction as he asked. I consented. I liked it- no- I was delighted. And yet… Why do I feel… such crippling fear? This silent voice in my head is telling me to detest this. To detest him.

��To detest me…

Lee’s bubbly grin sinks as he watches your face contort into a small scowl, a thousand-yard stare giving away your brief dissociation. You don’t move from the position he taught you. His arms unfold as he pads closer to face you. 

“Y/n?” Despite his low tone, the way he says your name is light as a feather. He feels that if he speaks any louder for some reason, you’ll react like a wine glass at the mercy of a soprano’s highest frequency. Your eyes widen in focus at his gentle call. You see the space between his brows crinkling at how disturbed you looked, the sight deepens your frown.

Lee balls his fists and lowers his head; he absolutely hates doing things that come at the expense of others’ safety. He himself is painfully familiar with how easily traumatic mundane activities can become.

“I’m sorry- I should've been more attentive,” he whispers almost desperately. “I tend to get really invested in the craft, y’know?” You shot up from your stance before you knew it.

“No, no, don’t be sorry!” You croak. Lee tilts his eyes up a little to peek at the look on your face- which now mirrors his.

“I just… just wasn't used to it, that's all.” The somber sultriness of your voice soothes his worries swimming within. “You did everything right, I felt- feel- like you're someone I could trust. So thank you, sensei… for helping me perform a semi-decent horse stance.” You don’t trust him completely, but he was checking every box in your list so far.

Lee’s chest quakes with a chuckle at your wit, deciding that he’s gonna earn your trust one way or another. He rests his hands on his hips to celebrate the eroding tension. Your teeth tug at your bottom lip to celebrate that smile you love returning to his handsome face.

“I’m always here to help!” He practically sings. “Adult novice classes are $45 a month.”

You roll your eyes at his not-so-slick marketing tactic, retreating to your shoes and other belongings. Lee snorts at your sass, following after you.

“Oh! Here’s your flyer by the way.” 

You turn your heel while sliding your arms through the sleeves of your jacket, and find Lee handing you a paper handout containing the weekly schedule and any other important dojo intel.

“Ah, thanks,” you flip through the small pamphlet before shoving it in your pocket. Lee looks at his phone to check the time..

“You go home on your own, I assume?” Lee quips while raising a brow.

You hook the handle of your purse over your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you sigh tiredly. “Can't afford a car right now so public transit is my go-to.”

Lee sways his body from side to side, feigning deep thought as he shifts his weight on each foot.

“It's almost 11, and I have a car. How ‘bout I drive you home?”

…

…Welp, you have a taser in your bag if things go south.

“I would… I'd like that… Thanks.”

Lee nods gleefully, feeling like you’re giving him another shot. “Gimme twenty minutes, ‘kay?”

You give him a thumbs up, “I’ll text you my address.”

-

In around fifteen minutes, Lee locks up the dojo and walks you to his car. Your eyes light up; acutely impressed at the sleek coat of silver, tinted windows, and wide headlights.

“Didn’t take you for a BMW typa guy.”

Lee smirks as he opens the door for you to get in. After you thank him and sit comfortably in the passenger seat, he lowers his body to level with yours, one hand resting on his knee while the other holds his car door open. His bold stare is somehow intensified by the nonchalant raise of his brows.

“I'd love to know what else you don’t take me for.”

Amusement laces his lowered tone, making you ignore the small wet patch in your panties that's been growing since his… his little lesson. He doesn't wait for your response, rising back up with a deep inhale. After shutting the door, he strides to his side of the car.

Oh, fuck me.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 1)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic was doing great, though. But you aren’t that happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black chubby reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence. Usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their late 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist

Next Chapter

You are lonely. So lonely.

Your friends tell you that you’re young and shouldn’t chase and should wait for the right person and should focus on yourself and all that jazz. But there is nothing else you can do but wait; your career as a medic is finally blossoming beyond your imagination, you’re taking care of yourself as best you can, yet dating apps are full of people you aren’t attracted to. And the ones who did interest you either don’t hit you up or stop engaging.

You feel worthless sometimes, like no matter how beautiful or poised you come off, that one person who you dream of spoiling and loving you is only that- a dream. You always feel like you'll never be fully appreciated. You know you deserve someone who takes care of you, but no matter how painful it is you always keep pushing. You never have time to drown in self-pity. At the end of the day, people still love and support you. That’s why you went on a date with some guy Temari and her husband, Shikamaru, put you on.

You always envied their relationship; they’ve been going strong since college, watching them grow and evolve as they fall deeper in love with each other. It’d make you quietly turn away and scowl every time they’d hold hands or smile into their kisses. Your date’s name is Sai. You went out a couple of times beforehand, and actually enjoyed his time; he was a smooth talker with a serene vibe who allowed you to be the corny goofball you are when comfortable. Especially when he’d crack deadpan jokes and tease you. The conversations you had held weight and authenticity.

Y’all are on your third date, walking the night streets of the city while eating rolled ice cream. The stroll is silent but tolerable, ignoring the fact that Sai hadn’t talked much throughout the day.

"Did you enjoy our date?" Sai quips, eyebrows rising inquisitively.

You swallow the melting treat and nod your head.

"Yup!" You lie. "What about you?"

Sai looks down at the remnants of ice cream in his cup before stopping in his tracks.

“Y/n, I think you’re really cool,” he prompts.

Fuck me, you think.

"But I don't see us being any more than good friends. I don't feel any excitement when I'm with you. Plus, my ex and I wanna get back together so... Yeah."

While nodding spitefully, your plump lips press together in a tight line.

"Goodbye, Sai." You turn around and walk the opposite direction.

"Should I get you an uber?" He calls out.

You simply wave your hand without looking back. You’re glad you didn’t fuck him anyways, since you already learned the hard way of fooling around while easily susceptible to attachment. That's how you got your heart broken. And you've healed, still healing, but trust is earned. And your time requires effort now.

You shut your apartment door with a foot and lock it before kicking off your heels. Tossing your keys on the living room table, you pad your way to the nearest couch and plop your face on the mattress.

Your eyes sting at the despair of it all, wondering if this love shit is only magical for some. You bring your vibrating phone closer to your face, only to see that it's Shikamaru. You sigh in contemplation, glaring at the TV across from you before reluctantly answering the call.

"Heyyy." Your voice drawls out in a feeble attempt at sounding happy.

"How was your date?" He sounds groggy, like he just woke up from one of his daily naps.

You gulp, eyes widening in shame. "It was - uhhh.”

You hear shuffling on your friend's end, waiting patiently for your response as he opens his refrigerator for snacks.

"Do you think I'm boring?" You whisper, as if you’re unraveling this big secret.

The noise ceases on the other side.

"He dropped you, didn't he?" He deadpans.

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

Shikamaru scoffs. "Fuck him. Don't let some dude you only met 3 times ruin the rest of your week.

"Mhmm." You hear people say that all too often for your liking.

"He said I didn't excite him. Whatever the hell that means."

"That's really a drag, y/n. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you. But you're not boring at all, it's his loss. Not yours.”

You curl up in a ball and stare at your TV screen, listening to your friend unwrapping a candy bar.

"Hey listen," he takes a bite from the frozen chocolate.

“Instead of sulking in your dark little hole till you find another date, how about you come with Mari and me to meet a good friend?"

"Whoring me out again are we?"

"Damn, was it that obvious?" He sighs tiredly at your lewd sarcasm.

“Anyway, he runs a dojo that his sensei founded. Called the Mighty Rock Dojo."

"Stupid name." You comment petulantly.

"Yeah I know." He snorts. "We'll pick you up at ten am if you want, a change in scenery could help with your... perspective on life."

"S'okay, you can say I’m depressed.”

“Yeah, well I think this could help, even a little bit. Didn't you always watch those Bruce Lee movies when you were a kid? Rush Hour? The Karate Kid?"

“Yeah but-“

"This could unlock good memories for you. Make you feel like you belong?"

"I don't fight though," you reason.

"No need. Just watch."

Your eyebrows furrow in deep worry. While his offer is tempting, you do not see how attending a dojo can fix your love life. Maybe you could just use some innocent excitement for once.

"Alright, alright." You whine, cursing your schedule for making you free tomorrow. “Ten am you said?"

"That's my girl,” You side eye your phone: he hasn’t called you that since y’all broke up. “And yes, we'll pick you up at ten. Now go to sleep.”

After he angs up, you set your timer on your phone and toss it on the table beside you.

-

You are not a morning person; eyes burning from fresh sleep as you ponder whether you should fling your roaring alarm across your wall. You don’t really know what to wear at a dojo, so you decide on more casual clothing for the day. When you feel like you're all caught up on your morning routine, notifications of Temari texting you to come downstairs pop up on your phone.

You greet the couple as you enter their jeep and sit in the back, enjoying the faint aroma of cinnamon in the air.

"You ready to see some sick ass-whooping?" Temari snarls.

"You know it, girl." You snigger. She is a breath of fresh air, you’re beyond grateful for people who are more unserious than you at times.

The ride is peaceful; sun rays dancing through the windows, a lofi playlist tuning in the background to set a nice vibe. You'd doze off if you weren't getting eager to see what this dojo's all about.

"So Pineapple, who is this friend of yours?"

"Rock Lee." Shikamaru grumbles while staring ahead, spiky ponytail peaking above the headrest. You call him "pineapple” when you're feeling goofy, and he hates that his wife picked up that foolish nickname on him soon after.

“He's been the master of the dojo ever since his sensei, Might Guy, retired 5 years ago," Temari adds.

You hum in acknowledgment. At the time of arrival, your eyes droop a bit at how... unimpressive the outside looks. Very bland letters that spell out the text of the establishment's name. you wouldn't consider it a dojo without the word dojo being on the big sign. You groan in pending boredom.

A ceiling bell jingles as you enter, the first step inside the dojo and your face is smothered with the pungency of feet. Usually, you would turn right back around with a cringe and escape such an aggressive odor, but the man before you makes it exceptionally difficult to look away:

Beads of sweat decorate the contours of his neck and chest. An impeccable horse stance coils his body like a spring; perfect posture, plump ass sitting in a squat that shows the subtle bulge of his thighs through the fabric of his Gi; knees spread apart and each one bent at a 90 degree angle; left arm firmly folded behind his back while the other has his front palm facing him, slender fingers pointing up and pressed together like a blade. His hands and wrists are wrapped in white bandages that you assume would help secure the worn skin beneath. He’s in the midst of a match; his intense, unblinking gaze holding both his opponent and the onlookers in rapt attention. Every move is a display of disciplined grace and raw physical power. Every strike, every dodge, every block- they all hold tactical precision unlike any other. It's why he never took a single blow.

You don't look away, leaning closer to Shikamaru.

"What technique is he using?" You mumble in fascination.

Your friend chuckles, sighing quietly after.

"Taijutsu. An ancient martial art that his sensei put on the map a few decades back. Last time I checked, this'll be Lee's 40th beaten opponent this week."

"Well damn." You grunt.

But how unexpected was it? He looks like an ancient warrior, like he loves what he’s doing. So much so, that the physical agony seems a necessity for his strength. That's why a dozen surround him in awe of his mastery.

The atmosphere is electric, growing anticipation of how this battle will end thickens the air. Lee's opponent is bruised up, battered figure wobbling side to side just to cope with the damage already done to him. All Lee has to do is wait a few moments, not moving an inch until he watches him fall to his knees, and collapse on the matted floor. The victor blinks a couple of times with a deep inhale, you can hear the timbre of his voice when he releases his breath.

"Heh. Some things never change," Temari scoffs with a knowing smile.

Relaxing his arms at the applauding crowd, Lee stands straight and bows to his beaten contestant, whispering a “thank you” for showing his dedication and strength: Lee slowly grabs his arm and hooks it over his shoulder to help lift his body, walking him to a nursing room in the back of the dojo so he can tend to his injuries. An idea pops into your head, kicking off your street shoes to trot past the crowd and follow them. You decide that since you're a medical professional, you'd assist the fighter in his hospitality. You get steadily closer until you find him looking in the cabinets for certain remedies.

"Got antiseptic with cotton balls?"

Lee jolts to face you while still crouched under the counter, hitting his head against the hard surface.

Your hand covers your mouth in mortification.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't worry, my friend!" He chuckles sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head. "Just didn't expect anyone to come in yet, haha!"

You smile at his reassurance, not expecting the depth of his voice; a low bass overshadowed by whimsical friendliness every time he speaks.

"Ahh okay. Still have any antiseptic with cotton balls?"

"Oh, yeah! Need some?"

"No, but your friend does.”

Lee lowers his hand, turning his head to the man who lay on a thin mattress, and turns back to look at you.

"You want to help him?"

"Mhm!" You chirp, digging in your bag for your wallet to show him your license. Lee raises his hands up at your insistence.

"Y-You don't need to prove yourself to me! I appreciate the help. His eyes crinkle shut with a toothy smile.

You were thinking of ways to make it falter, like caressing the area where his neck and jaw meet or brushing your thumb along his bushy eyebrows. You could see how strong he is, and you want to feel it this time. You've never considered his textbook features attractive, but he makes them look too endearing to dislike.

After swiping a bag full of cotton from the upper cabinet, Lee notions you to come closer with a wave.

Walking to stand beside him, you analyze the man's wounds. Gently pressing your fingers throughout his body, you fail to spot any alarmingly tender areas.

Lee hands you a cotton swab with a bottle of antiseptic.

"Nun too serious." You murmur while squirting the solution on the cotton. "He'll be fine.”

He nods with a hum, watching you gently dab the damp material on the fighter's bloodied face.

"What's his name?"

"Neji. We've known each other since childhood."

There was a lilt of fondness in Lee's tone when regarding the man you're patching up.

Neji winces when you clean a certain cut above his eyebrow, making you pause with caution.

"Oop, sorry Neji. I'm almost done," You coo.

Lee watches in awe at how graceful and precise your movements are when treating his friend, the subtle focus in your stare as you put your training to use impresses him even more. He couldn't be that delicate with someone if he tried. He clears his throat.

"H-How did you learn about the dojo?"

You look up in quick thought before flickering your eyes down to the task at hand.

"The Naras brought me here."

Lee's eyes glow up like light bulbs.

"Shika knows you?!"

You snort at the cute nickname.

"Yeah. We've been friends since high school. Him and Temari think this place would be a... more cathartic way to spend my time."

You appreciate the couple for thinking of you, really. But it's still kind of embarrassing that they know how much of a loner you are. Lee places a hand on his hip while the other rubs his chin, eyes closing to reminisce about a familiar time in his life.

"Ahh, I remember when I had nothing better to do than work at the dojo. It got so bad that Shika stepped in to show me a more casual way of life. I didn't stop wearing my sense's hand-me-downs till last year!"

You giggle at how open he is to someone he just met. Lee didn't expect your sultry voice to allure him so easily when you laughed. He wants to make you do it again.

*Yeah," you agree. *He's like a dad friend."

"He IS a dad friend."

Both laughing heartily in unison, you wrap up Neji's treatment and return all the equipment you used.

"All he needs is a few day's rest and he'll be good as new." You look down at Neji who's sound asleep, sighing in pride at your handiwork.

"My name is Rock Lee, but I'd like it if you called me Sensei Lee. What's yours?"

"Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Sensei."

You love the way he looks down at you with those big round eyes. His grin is calm, radiating silent confidence.

"You'd be a great addition to our dojo, y/n.” You love the way your name rolls off his tongue. But your skin crawls at what that might say about you.

"You think so?"

"Know so! Every time I patch up my students, they say I'm too rough. But you're obviously a pro.”

You quietly scoff in shyness, the thought of being a nurse for a bunch of fighters never passed your mind till now. Lee blinks a few times in concern.

"I can pay you, if that's the issue."

You shake your head abruptly, "I already have a well-paying job. Plus I couldn't do my best if it's only for the money."

”Yes, of course."

He is too good at eye contact and manners. You beg yourself to act right.

"I'll think about it,” you conclude. “What's your number for the meantime?"

After he gives you his phone, you bid each other farewell. When you reunite with the Nara's you tell them everything that went down in the nursing room.

Shikamaru smirks knowingly, turning towards his car.

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Anyways, I want brunch."

"Meals are on me for introducing a new hobby!"

"This is why we love y/n."

"Don't get used to it," you warn playfully.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

The wink made me do it 😔

no one's the new me

Summary: Soldier Boy is the OG Supe. You goad him into proving it and get more than you bargained for...or did you?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: All unbeta'd. Thank you to @rieleatiel for the pre-read!

Warnings: smut; rough sex; language; implied breeding kink

Word Count: 846

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Soldier Boy Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

Strong hands tugged on your hair, forcing your head back and your body to arch, accommodating the brute force you were being fucked with. You could feel the aggression, the rage, that was being unleashed on you in response to your taunts earlier. Your words had been purposeful; you knew they would rile him up enough to throw caution to the wind and show you how wrong you were. It had been nearly three hours since he began teaching you to “respect your fucking elders.”

Your throat was sore, your ass bruised from hips brutally slamming into yours — plus you actually got spanked near the beginning because you were being a fucking brat — and your pussy was on fire. At least five orgasms had been out of your body so far, a new personal record for you, and yet you wouldn’t dream of stopping. Though you knew the man savagely pistoning in and out of you would, the second you said it. 

That was just another thing that drew your desire to him the second he stepped out of that tube back in Russia: the control. You’d watched in fascination as he let loose a burst of energy that knocked The Female on her ass, yet you later found out she’d been fortunate after that same energy took out city blocks and one old, washed up, backstabbing Crimson Cunt. The minute you saw him emerge from the smoking wreckage of her trailer, his suit and shield completely intact, you knew he was so much more than a weapon for Butcher and his merry band of idiots to wield against Homelander.

He was the embodiment of raw power, a purity from being the first ever Supe mixed with whatever cocktail the Russians had given him.

You certainly could feel that power, the might and god-like strength that the body slamming into yours contained. If you weren’t experiencing the best fuck of your life right then, your eyes would have rolled back into your head and you would have orgasmed from the heady knowledge of that alone. 

“Say it,” was growled menacingly into your ear.

You pressed your lips together to keep quiet. You knew that would only stoke the rage but that didn’t matter.

Fingers roughly gripped your chin and turned you to face the dark emerald gaze burning into yours, fury written all over his features. He stopped fucking you for a moment, only to deliver deep and harsh thrusts, his expression tightening with more anger the longer you refused to give in to his demand. You could feel your body starting to act of its own accord, the excitement rushing through you as fiery tingles began deep inside you, right near where he had been pummeling you a moment ago as a matter of fact. “Say it,” he commanded once more in a snarl.

The tingles radiated throughout your pelvic region and you started to feel a wave of sensations getting closer and closer to overwhelming every single inch of you. You reached up to grip his wrist, holding on tightly as your body began to shake. 

He was merciless, though. He wanted you to have learned your lesson. “Fucking say it.”

“No one…” You struggled to get out the words, to keep eye contact even; the feelings overtaking your body were that intense. You let out an exhalation of a sound you had never made before. “No one’s the new you,” you panted, your jaw dropping in a silent cry as that wave became like wildfire, consuming you rapidly, your fingers finding purchase in his forearm.

A shark-like smile slowly spread across Soldier Boy’s face as he watched you alternate between squirming and tensing up. “That’s right. And don’t you fucking forget it.”

You could see that he was about to resume pounding into you and once he did, you would be lost to the intensity of the orgasm that was quickly coming to claim you. A scream was about to tear out of your chest when he pushed in deeply one last time, him clearly enjoying that he had you on that edge, about to go over it, and deciding to be a dick about it. So you managed to grab his face, forcing him to meet your eyes, and quickly said what you’d been waiting to tell him ever since you saw him in that fucking suit, wielding that big ass shield which served as more of a weapon than protection. “Except the son you’re going to fuck into me tonight.”

His smirk dropped and the burning emerald was back, possibly more ablaze than before, and his grip tightened on you almost to the point of pain. If you weren’t in the throes of the most mind-numbing orgasm of your life right then, you would have given him your own smirk, knowing exactly what was about to follow. You thought he had unleashed on you before, but once again, he was intent on showing you just how wrong you were. You had never been happier to be mistaken twice in one night.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Please have heart and do not skip!

Donations urgently needed.

Nader and his family are nearly reaching half of their goal, and we need as much help as possible!

This fundraiser is vetted by @gazavetters, number four on the spreadsheet here

They're not asking for much, just €10 should suffice!

By donating, you are not only helping Nader, but you are saving him and his family.

We have managed to raise €12000 since the beginning of our campaign, and as with any other Palestinian who are fighting for their lives against the oppressors, I do not wish for Nader and his family to succumb to the murderous regime. Please, together we can raise enough so that they can afford for basic necessities as well as for them to be able to escape through the border crossing, once it opens.

We have already dealt with Zionists who attempted to compromise the campaign due to their own vendetta against the Ghazzans, and thanks to you all, we've successfully fough back and won, proving the veracity of this campaign. Please, do not back down. We need everything we can muster to help Nader and his family.

It's only gonna get harder now that UNRWA has been banned in the Settler state. Let's fight this battle together!

Tag list:

@90-ghost @heritageposts @gazavetters @neechees @butchniqabi @fluoresensitive @khanger @autisticmudkip @beserkerjewel @furiousfinnstan @xinakwans @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr @butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @willgrahamscock @strangeauthor @bryoria @shesnake @legallybrunettedotcom @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzymoods @ree-duh @neptunerings @explosionshark @dlxxv-vetted-donations @vague-humanoid @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2 @feluka @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @ibtisams @sawasawako @memingursa @schoolhater @toesuckingoctober @waskuyecaozu @lapithae @ryo-yamada @opencommunion @el-shab-hussein @feluka @paper-mario-wiki

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

reblog if you dont have a bra on

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

quick reminder that my own gay ass genuinely supports the hell outta each and every one of you. regardless if i know you or not, im happy to be living in this shithole of a life in the same world with you.

and im proud of you, i know in my heart just how beautiful, amazing, talented, smart, and worthy you are and i hope you can see that too🏳️‍🌈🌈

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

today is not my birthday

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Please, reblog! IIt’s called self defense. Apart from having here, in the US, one of the highest cases of homicide and rape in the world and high rate of GBV, think about how this could help your mother or sister

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

The urge to write a Wolverine smut but not knowing how to write him 😭

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Thinking about Old!Billy Butcher.

You're doing such a Good job, babe." He says, his two fingers deep inside of you

"Common' use your words babe.” He says while you're moaning and trembling against the tip of his cock.

"Oh baby don't cry it's only halfway through.” He says as tears start falling of your eyes too overwhelmed to speak.

"You want to cum uh? You want mean ol' Billy to make you cum?” He says after denying your orgasms more times than you can count.

"Fuck love, it's like you were made for this.” He says spilling his cum so deep inside you.

"My little girl filled with my cum."

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

real

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

AAAAAAAaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Falling Hard, Failing Fast: A Hughie Campbell x Reader fic!

You get dosed with... a mystery drug made by Vought. Hughie is a good friend and stays with you while you monitor the side effects.

Warnings: sloppy sex pollen trope usage, dubcon turned just normal con, drugging, friends to lovers under upsetting circumstances, foreplay, sappy missionary, not my best work tbh

“What did they get her with?” Butcher asks, his voice near a yell through the receiver. 

Hughie traps his phone between his ear and his shoulder and waves his fingers in front of your face, struggling to get you to focus your eyes. Everything blurs around the edges, the same way blood rushes against your ear drums. All you can focus on though is heat, heat in your knees buckling, heat in Hughie’s other arm around your torso to keep you upright, heat in your head that plunges down your front and settles under your pants. 

All you can offer is a weak shake of your head to no one in particular. You don’t know. All you know is heat, and that you’re fading fast. 

“I think it’s bad, it was all over her,” Hughie says. He had watched a guard pull something that looked like pepper spray into your face, and he ran into the mist of it to pull you away and back up the stairs, begging you to stay upright the whole time. 

“I can’t—“ you mumble, your head falling back against Hughie’s shoulder. Relief, like a cool drink of water, trickles into you at the contact. You need more, you need—

You sober up, almost, as fear cools the fire under your skin momentarily. Your head snaps up, and Hughie immediately goes on the alert.

“Get away from me!” your voice shakes, but it's the most clear you’ve sounded since Hughie grabbed you. 

“What? No—,” he stops himself, confused, “No, we have to get you somewhere safe.”

He hangs up the phone in a panic as you try to pull away from him, throwing yourself towards the cold brick wall. He recaptures you, steadying you as you keep trying to lurch away. His bare hand against your arm feels like a white hot poker, feels like he's burning you, but you want it. You want to feel what those burning hands feel like moving across your skin, want to feel the pain they'll leave in their wake; part of you imagines they'd leave a trail of destruction like a forest fire, marks of Hughie all over your skin.

Another wave of heat hits you, this time forcing an embarrassing moan from your lips as you double over, stumbling down the hallway with Hughie still painfully attached to you. There's a basement apartment being used as a safe house up ahead, and if you can just get to a bed, or a couch, or even the floor to sweat this out you’ll be fine and maybe survive with your dignity.

You hear Hughie curse as you try to pick up speed, your sweaty hands clawing at his grasp on you. You don’t care if you seem insane in this moment, you just need to barricade yourself in…. alone. 

Hughie helps you in, punching in the door code on the lockbox and fumbling with the key once it’s free, while you lean into the door frame, sweat starting to gather at your hairline. Once the door is open, you practically throw yourself in. The safe house is scarce; a simple kitchen with a can of corn on the counter, a navy futon, a radio, a folding chair, a bathroom. Dread pools in your stomach, settling right above the heat churning, as you realize: Hughie is not going to leave you alone in a place like this. 

You shrug him off, dropping yourself to lay flat on the floor, your face to the ceiling. You screw your eyes shut, the muscles of your face hurting from how hard you’re trying to hide yourself from this. You must look like a fucking mess to Hughie, you realize, with sweat starting to coat your skin and your chest heaving as you struggle not to writhe on the floor in pain. 

He rushes to the sink in the sad excuse for a kitchen, running the tap with water. Hughie mumbles to himself while he searches the cupboards for a cup or a mug. 

You stare up at the off white ceiling- one of those sloppy paint jobs a slumlord does to turn a profit. It probably covers mold.

You pray silently that Hughie brings you water and leaves you the fuck alone before you embarass yourself any more than you already have. At some point the heat has to subside, right? At some point the painful desire in your gut has to fade away, right?

You close your eyes again, trying to block out the sensations you feel to no avail, the hopeless idea that if you hide from the situation it will go away. 

But then Hughie’s sneakers are shuffling across the cheap thin carpet towards you, and he sits down on the floor next to you instead of taking a seat on the futon. You put your hands on your face to try and further hide from him, and realize how big a mistake you just made. 

A low moan escapes your throat, relief from the heat not found, instead the same burning Hughie’s hands had on you in the hallway. Pleasure, embarrassing and wanton, shoots through you seemingly from the palms of your hands.

“What can I do for you?” he asks, and you can hear the dull thud of the mug he chose being placed on the ground. 

“Leave,” you pant out, your voice wavering and airy.

“Not gonna happen,” he immediately responds, a breath of a chuckle exhaled through his nose. It's silent for a minute, maybe more, time feels weird and far away right now. The world has stopped and you feel like you're melting.

And then that stabbing, burning, sublime pleasure erupts on your skin again. 

A strangled cry whines itself out between your closed lips as Hughie takes your hands in his own; a movement too tender and intimate for what you are.

“You’re so… hot,” Hughie whispers, concern laced in the edges of his voice. His touch sends shockwaves through you. You whimper pitifully as you finally open your eyes, just a crack. Worry is painted all over Hughie’s handsome face, his brows furrowed and eyes wide, his lips falling open. In this moment he looks like he would do anything for you, and you can't ask him to do this. You squeeze your eyes shut again, so tight you fear you may start tearing up. Hughie squeezes your hand in his, and you whimper again, your chest heaving and your body betraying you.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, no. Hurt isn’t exactly the word you’d use. Your limbs feel heavy, your head feels heavy, and Hughie’s touch feels like heaven, featherlight and fresh. 

You want him to keep squeezing your hand, you want him to squeeze other things, to grab you, those long fingers curling around your flesh. Another moan escapes your lips at the thought and Hughie freezes up. His hand drops yours, unfortunately. The heat rages again.

“Oh,” Hughie says, voice small. He searches your face, and as hard as you try to shy away from him, he still finds you.

“Is it touch?” he asks, “Something to do with me touching you?”

You nod, embarrassment flushing your features. 

“More? Less?” He presses, and it's so fucking sweet how much he wants to help you. It hurts how nice he’s being about this. You ache between your legs, and wish he would stop being so nice about this.

“More,” you plead, arching your back in discomfort. Hughie’s hands are back on you in an instant, pulling you up to sit so he can massage your shoulders. Your forehead falls onto his shoulder, and you move closer to him, your hands moving across his ribs. He leans into the embrace, his large hands guiding you to lean yourself onto him as he rubs circles into your skin, ripples of pleasure radiating out from each spot he touches. He switches from massaging you to just rubbing your back, his hands moving over your tee shirt and roaming the expanse of space.

His fingers trace your spine, stoking the fire and bringing you relief, if only slightly. You move similarly, hands feeling completely right as you try to follow the same patterns he traces along your back onto his.

“I need…” you beg him again, desperate and shameless. You’re gasping for breath as you continue to move against him, your hands moving up under his shirt, his back feeling almost cold under the heat of your hands. You dont miss the way Hughie shivers at your touch. He keeps rubbing your back, adding more pressure to his touch. You squirm against him and moan, and then Hughie stops.

He pulls you back by the shoulders. 

“Holy shit. Are you?” he asks, bewildered, but then something else crosses his features. Something you can't exactly read. 

“I think so,” you mumble, again trying to look away, trying to hide from him, “That’s why I wanted you to get away from me.”

Hughie seems to ponder this for a moment, his eyes searching your face, and then they dip lower. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you never thought of Hughie that way. 

“I can help? If- only if you want…” he trails off, unsure. You can’t agree to that, no matter how much you want to. It would feel amazing, his hands on you, roaming and groping and taking, his mouth on you. You shiver, not a chill.

“Help?” you echo, and that look you can't read crosses his features again.

“Like I could,” he pauses, finds the word, “Try to give you a hand?”

If you werent already burning up and soaking wet, you would be. How does Hughie sound so effortlessly arousing in a situation like this? Maybe its just the literal drug you were dosed with, though. Either way, it doesnt matter. You cling to him, nails starting to dig into his skin. 

“I- I couldn't ask you to-”

“But you’re not,” he interrupts, “I’m offering.”

He is offering. Offering to get you off as if thats a normal thing to offer one of your friends on a Wednesday afternoon. Like he’s offering to help you move or put together a book shelf. 

You pull yourself in closer to him again, resting your forehead back on his shoulder. It’s less embarrassing this way.

“Let’s try it,” you mumble into his chest. This way, you dont have to face him, you can hide from it and maybe keep a shred of your dignity.

He moves his hands lower, sliding them down to your hips. Hughie guides you back down, laying you out on the ground. He takes away your ability to hide from him. Now hovering over you, he smiles slightly as he takes you in. He steadily raises a hand, moves it down between the two of you, stopping over the button of your jeans.

“Can I?”

You only nod, no turning back now.

He undoes your jeans slowly, as if he’s the one with something to be nervous or shy about. His fingers are warm against the cool metal of you zipper, the sound as he drags it down mixing with the sound of you gasping for breath, a cacophony of desperation and nervous lust. 

Hughie leans back on the heels of his converse, his fingers hooking themselves under the hem of your jeans and pulling them down gently, care in every step. You whimper as you lift yourself up slightly, letting him pull the jeans over your thighs. He stops at your knees, your legs trapped in place by denim. 

“Okay?” he asks, and “okay,” you also confirm. So Hughie takes it a step further, his hand coming to the waistband of your underwear, a black mesh thong that really looks like you were asking to be dosed with sex mist, but ultimately the case of the fact that you had yet to do laundry this week and all of your comfortable briefs were sitting in the laundry bag ready to be carried down the steps of your walk-up.

His fingers dip below the fabric,and when his middle finger brushes the top of your slit your body contorts beyond your control, a strangled cry leaving your lips. 

“Shh, I’ll take care of you,” he reassures you, leaning down further as his hand travels further, his middle finger leading the charge and stroking you. Each movement is like a breath of fresh air, Hughie’s hand a lifeline to calm the fires within you. His lips part as he reaches your clit, fingertip to pearl. 

Hughie’s eyes bore into yours, lust of his own growing in them. You don't feel as embarrassed anymore, instead, something dreadful that mixes with your hunger. It's going to be hard to stop after this, it's going to be hard to be in the same room after this, knowing that look in his eyes. 

“Touch me, please,” you whisper, the words leaving your lips and sealing some kind of unspoken pact.

He nods his head, obeying you as his hand dips lower. Hughie teases, but not really. Every slow movement is deliberate, testing the waters, gaging comfort and mapping it out for himself as well. It’s careful, calculated, and generous. Just like the kind of friend Hughie always is. 

But all thoughts go quiet as his middle finger slides into you with no resistance, and finally it feels as if there is an end in sight to your predicament. His finger feels… divine. Feels like it belongs there, feels like your salvation, and he your savior.

He slides his finger in you to the knuckle, curls it gently, and then slides it almost completely out again.

“You're so… wet,” he comments, and then a blush radiates up from his neck to his cheeks, as if embarrassed that thought did not stay in his head. You lean into his touch, nails raking into the cheap carpet to cement yourself in place. Your eyes don't miss how his free hand moves to his thigh, his own fingers gripping at the material of his jeans.

He starts again, pushing all the way into you, then almost completely out, then all the way in again. Then Hughie picks up his pace, steady and sure as he begins to thrust his middle finger in and out of you, starts to earnestly fuck you with it. The sounds that come out of your mouth are pathetic at best, whining moans and pants and unintelligible begging for more, all of which he obliges enthusiastically. 

You arch your back into his motion, chasing the rhythm of his fingers, the wet sounds between your legs now filling the air and adding to the sound of your already labored breathing. Hughie is short of breath as well, laser focused on you and all too reactive to your body. He meets every movement with one to match, like physics, actions and reactions. He watches your face for any changes, watches you hungrily, his lips parted and eyes dark. 

It doesn't take much, especially when Hughie adds another finger, and both start moving within you. He curls them along the most sensitive part of you, doesn't hold back as he pulls keening moans from your lips and whispers words of encouragement the whole time. 

You come quieter than either of you expect, with a few shuddering breaths and tears that Hughie wipes away, with your teeth buried in your bottom lip and his hand stilled against you. He lets you ride it out as gracefully as you can, not daring to move his fingers from inside you while his other hand continues to smooth down your hair and wipe away tears. 

It’s only when you still, relief and calm finally replacing the heat, that Hughie slowly pulls his fingers from you. Your breath hitches, your body still sensitive to his touch, to his long fingers. He pulls his hand out of your underwear, and leans back onto his heels again, the comforting warmth that came from him leaving you. Finally, you feel cool, normal. A fever breaking. 

“Was that? Was it good?” Hughie asks, sounding nervous. Was it good? It was exactly how you thought Hughie would pleasure a woman. Lovely, thoughtful, with your care in mind. You want it again, just not under these circumstances. You would like to imagine a date, maybe dinner or drinks, maybe a movie, and then a lovely trip back to either of your apartments and a taxi ride because you're too eager to deal with the subway. 

But yes, it was good. 

And as soon as the relief flows through you, it seeps away, a bucket with a hole in the bottom. The heat returns. You shake your head desperately; No, it did not help, not enough. Tears well in your eyes. 

“I still feel-” you cut yourself off. 

“It was good!” you explain hastily, desperately, panicked, “It was good. But I’m still…”

You don’t exactly have the words for it.

“You need more,” he finishes, not asking, but telling you. You press your lips into a thin line, shame at the thought of what Hughie just did not being enough for you. You look away from him, not wanting to say the words. Once again, you think about asking him to leave, asking him to go and let this pass and then maybe one day it could be a funny story. 

But then you see movement from the corner of  your eye. 

It looks like Hughie was just rubbing his nose, but then his tongue darts out from between his lips and to the side of his middle finger. From that hand, the one that was just between your legs. He puts his hand down quickly, too quickly for it to be a natural movement.

The fire within you floods down the front of you, back with the debilitating vengeance from before. If you were standing, it would have knocked you to the floor. 

“Hughie, did you?” you ask, unsure if you should truly accuse him, your voice shaking the entire time.

“Can I say I was just curious?” he asks, a sheepish smile on his face.

You narrow your eyes at him again, trying to hide any of the discomfort that might be returning to your features. You don't believe that. And luckily, Hughie caves quickly under this kind of scrutiny. 

“Okay, I was curious! I was,” Hughie admits, the blush across his cheeks darkening. You don't even want to ask what conclusions he came to, this horny-embarrassed-nervous-hungry combination doing a number on your thought process. 

You only nod at him, slightly skeptical.

“And you… you need more? So I could-,” he pauses, recollects himself so he doesnt ramble.

“I could do more? I could help more?”

You're taken aback by this, pushing your elbows under you to lean up towards him, ignoring the fact that you're still exposed to him. More? How could you ask him for more? Even though this time and the first time he offered, how could you accept?

“I couldn't… I can't ask you to do that, Hughie,” you cringe as the words come out of your mouth, your head betraying what your body wants, but it's the right thing to do, right?

“Well, you wouldn't have to do much asking,” Hughie sighs, his eyes darting from his own lap to the lightswitch on the wall, away from you. 

Your eyes follow where his fell and… oh. 

From what you can tell, he’s rock hard, the zipper of his jeans bulging as it holds him in place. Hughie liked that just as much as you did. If things were not already complicated, they are now. 

Again, he’s offering. 

“It's a big step,” you say, trying to give him an out. You can't ask him to do this, it's not fair. You're not in your right mind, despite how willing he is. 

“Ah, yeah, you're right,” he admits, then, “this isn't how I wanted it to go-”

“Wanted it to go?” you interrupt him. 

“Like if we ever, you know,” he’s getting truly flustered now, his hands gesticulating to try and explain what his mouth can't. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then his shoulders sag.

“Let me help you.”

The air, everything in the room shifts between the two of you, something new and heavy. He doesn’t tear his gaze from you, and you don’t dare break eye contact. Instead, you nod slowly; giving him full permission, giving yourself full permission. 

Within a second, he's positioning himself over you again, this time with his knee between your thighs. The heat radiating off of him somehow stokes and calms yours, his proximity its own salve after he’s already made you come once.

He leans down to kiss you, his lips fully covering yours. His lips are wet, his stubble coarse against your skin. He’s sure to rub off the makeup around your mouth and leave you with beard burn on your chin and cheeks, but that's the least of your worries. He kisses hungrily, passionately, fierce unlike the normally level headed and more meek member of the team he usually is. His lips seem to pull moans from yours, your tongues and teeth clattering and tangling together.

His hands move across your skin, his thumbs rubbing circles down your sides, reaching further and further down. He stops and pauses almost awkwardly, the first time in this entire encounter that Hughie has shown any of his awkward tendencies. He pushes himself off his hands and knees just enough to get a good grip on your jeans and yank them down. Hughie only pauses when you kick off your shoes, both of you working together to free you of the confines of pants. 

You spread your legs for him gladly when he crawls his way back on top of you, settling himself firmly between your legs. His hips rut and bump against the wet patch of your thong, and briefly it fills you with an odd sense of pride that it may leave a stain on his jeans, that he may carry a physical trophy of this moment.

Hughie’s lips are back on yours quickly, his hands careful and gently as they guide themselves around your body. His fingers dip into your collarbones, palms full of the swell of your chest, ghost over your ribs in a tickle. 

Your hips buck, needy and desperate against him, and he pins you down with his own. Fucking hot, in a way you didnt expect from Hughie Campbell. 

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, and he nods, practically swallowing your words. 

“Wait I have a,” he cuts himself off, and pulls his wallet from his back pocket, producing a beaten up looking trojan condom ribbed for ‘her pleasure’. He holds it up to you between two fingers with a smile.

“Why do you carry that?” you ask, honestly taken aback at his forethought. 

“Well after Herogasm anything is possible, so I figure it's better safe than sorry,” Hughie jokes, and for a brief moment it makes you wonder what other odd shit he might store in his pockets or wallet.

You roll your hips again, and he gets the message. You need him now. 

Hughie tosses the condom down near your shoulder, and untangles himself from you. You take the opportunity to pull the rest of your clothes off, as he sheds his just as hastily. All of your clothes get thrown into a messy pile, to the side, neither of you care.

Hughie practically throws himself down on top of you the moment he's bare, rolling the condom down his shaft quickly before he's rubbing himself along your entrance. He wants this just as badly as you do, and you feel guilty for doubting him earlier.

“Ready?” he asks, already breathless. You grant him a nod, a nervous smile on your face, and that's all he needs. 

He pushes into you slowly, filling you. You're surprised at the way your breath gets caught in your throat, knocking the wind out of you. You did not get a good look at what Hughie is working with before, and you’re very much wishing you did. He bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against you.

He nods, as if asking if this is okay, and you push your head up and rub the tip of your nose against his. Hughie laughs, and the tension of the moment breaks. 

You lift your legs, coming up to wrap them around his hips as he settles himself.

“You're so tight,” he breathes, a lazy smile on his face as he rolls his hips, testing the waters the same way he did when his fingers were inside you. He’s checking on you, making sure your comfort is first. He pulls himself almost completely out, and then back in, and then repeats the whole process. The head of his cock drags within you, rubs against the same spots that had you seeing stars earlier. You're not uncomfortable, not too sensitive, and Hughie seems to sense that. 

Hughie wastes no time speeding up his pace, pressing himself deeper and deeper, never fully pulling out of you between thrusts. He fucks into you not like a friend doing another friend a favor, but like a lover, he fucks into you like he wants to wake up next to you. Hughie presses kisses to your face, hips lips all over you, his stubble scratching you just like you knew it would.

"You feel amazing," he whispers against your skin, "So fucking perfect."

Your moans are like a staccato, punctuated and cut short with each thrust, as Hughie fills you to the hilt you lose all ability to use your voice. He pushes your bodies flush together, connecting completely. Hughie moves against you like he can't get close enough, like he wants you both to fuse together. The friction between your bodies as he moves, the way each thrust drags along the most sensitive parts of you, its all so much. Whatever's going on with you or not, this may just be the best sex of your life. Hughie leaves no part of you untouched and no part of you unsatisfied. You can feel your edge approaching fast, too fast, and you wish you could make this moment last longer. 

Its no use, however, as Hughie pulls your leg from his hip to the side, granting himself access to your clit, where he rubs harsh circles against you. 

“Come on, give me one,” he pants against your jawline, and how could you deny him?

He presses his hand a little harder, speeds up the thrusting of his hips, that friction and closeness never being sacrificed for his speed, and something within you breaks. 

You cry out, a high pitched call of his name, before shaking sobs wrack your frame, your back arching your chest into his, Hughie never slowing down as he pushes you through this. 

This orgasm feels like a jump into the ocean, refreshing and cooling to the fire inside you. 

Hughie works you through your orgasm, your bodies rocking together as you come down from your high. He pulls himself out only when you come back to him, when your breathing starts to regulate, when your muscles start to relax. 

Hughie moves desperately himself, rutting against the apex of your thigh, spilling into his condom only moments after, your hands tangled in the short curls of his hair. 

He moves away from you, the loss of contact genuinely having you feel cold, only to pull off and tie off the condom. Hughie comes back to you quickly, his arms immediately coming around your as your limbs tangle once more.

“Don't worry,” Hughie comforts you, pulling your chest against his tightly. His sweat mixed with his cologne smells almost sweet, decadent. One of his hands comes up to smooth down your hair, sweaty and messed up from the friction of the carpet, his other hand grabs your hip. The heat subsiding temporarily again, this time, it feels less painful, less all consuming. Its getting weaker. 

“We’ll be at this as long as it takes, I’ll help.”

You believe him, and nod, your cheek against his shoulder. He presses a kiss to your hairline.

“Afterwards maybe a shower and I can buy you a coffee? I mean, I think this place has hot water,” he asks, nervousness in his voice. A shower would be nice, but you doubt this place has even one towel.

“A coffee?” you echo. 

“You know,” he explains himself, “so I can say I took you on a date, so that we can be… you know… normal about this.”

“You want to take me on a date?” you lift your head, and that unreadable expression is back in his gaze.

“That wasn't obvious by now?”

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

No words…

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

I’m crying gagging, whimpering, rolling on the ground!!!!! Aaaaaaaahhhhh!

COME CLOSER

Summary: Reader asks her friend, Soldier Boy to take her virginity.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), virgin reader!, smut, language, rough Soldier Boy, beard kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, friends with benefits

Word Count: 4052

A/N: English is not my first language.

You grabbed the gun from Ben's suit and placed it in your bag without even waiting for a response since you knew he wouldn't refuse you. “May I take this?” you said. “Just for safety issues.”

Ben joined the team to kill Homelander months ago, and because you two have been on missions together for so long, you two have kind of gotten to know one another. He frequently teased you, and most of the time he really got on your nerves. Another thing Butcher's wanted from you regarding Ben was to make sure you kept an eye on him while he was high or furious. 

He sighed, “You are already in safe hands,” and then gave you a little push toward the car, where Butcher and the other members of the team were waiting. “You know that you are something different. Trying to protect yourself with a firearm in spite of the fact that you already have three supes with you, me included, who are the strongest and greatest.” 

“After the job is completed, even the biggest dicks become smaller. I wonder if your gigantic ego will ever be smaller one day, Ben.”

“Not mine,” he winked at you in between his laughter before the two of you entered the car. “How on earth does a naive virgin speak like that? I must discipline your dirty mouth at some point.” 

He pushed until you reached the other side of the seat, and you muttered, “Shut up.” Your face flushed. “You leave no space for me.”

“Do I look like your personal driver?” Butcher growled at Hughie to come in too, questioned in a disapproving tone. Then Butcher turned back to Hughie, who was sitting in the passenger seat, and said, “Where the fuck is your girlfriend?”

“She arrived earlier with the others. They were driven there by Frenchie already.”

“Will you shut up and drive?” Ben messed with your hair for a while while ignoring what you said that he was going to ruin it, saying to Butcher in an irritated manner. 

“Good boy gone bad, huh?” Ben ignored you and filled the entire seat between your complaints. Butcher murmured, “Let's fucking have some fun there since we may not be finding any free time soon, Navy girlies.” 

Luckily, Butcher managed to locate a club devoid of supes, but it was still massive and insane, complete with loud music. Hughie's gaze found Annie right away, and Butcher followed after him while he winked at the girl who was staring at him with a chuckle. 

You gave Ben a drink and complained, “Do I have to babysit you?” Even though all of the girls were capturing his attention, he was undoubtedly hearing what you were saying. 

He patted your head and said, "Babysit me?" with a look of astonishment. "Sweetheart, it's me who has been watching you for several months. After all, it's easy for you to get into trouble." 

"Me?" As he messed with your hair, you giggled and attempted to push his hands away. "You're always on the verge of being furious for no reason at all, and I have to keep your ego boosted when you are about to lose it." 

"Or maybe I act it this way to get you even more anxious; what do you think? Your human face looks so funny when you're trying to calm me," he smirked and remarked with arrogance. 

Punching him in the chest, you said, "You're impossible," although your wrist ached. You sighed in agony, "Fuck, Ben," and made sure everything was okay by looking at your hand. Thankfully, there were no physical wounds. 

"Why the fuck have you tried to punch me now? Haven't you still learned I'm built to last?" he complained, gently massaging your hands. 

You muttered, "You're so annoying," while he sighed and released your hands. "I can't imagine why almost nobody likes you." 

"All you do this evening is talk rudely with that lovely mouth of yours and spit poison. Also, you are to blame. How many times do I have to tell you not to try to punch me? Wish to adopt a tough-ass persona? You're just a little sensitive, soft doll," he continued to tease, causing you to flush with rage. 

"Remember the day I gave myself a Temp-V injection? When I really punched you, you seemed rather surprised, and I'm sure it hurt." 

“I didn't think being a temporary Supe could happen, and that was a while ago.” Ben continued to smirk and replied, “Keep that in mind. I was merely trying to comprehend the change in your scent when you unexpectedly struck me and pushed me against the wall. You know, I should have been doing that. Of course, I'm not referring to the punching; rather, I'm speaking to the second one, but more gently.”

Ben flirted with you, giving you a tiny pinch on the chin and a wink. He was perhaps the most flirtatious man ever, but the reason he acted this way was that you told him you were a virgin, and even when he understood you were becoming too shy and a little anxious, he continued to tease you verbally. You didn't feel uncomfortable about it, though. 

“Whatever.” You rushed to end it, fearing he would start talking even more profanely. You tried to silence him by putting your palm over his mouth. “When are you going to shave this beard? It's really lengthy.”

He murmured, “I thought you liked it longer and thicker,” as he combed his facial hair. 

This time, instead of being annoyed, you giggled. “You're impossible.” 

You said, “I'm going to check on Annie and others,” feeling a little guilty for something you didn't even understand when you saw him searching for women who fit his tastes. “So that you can have your fun.”

Ben, who had just bought a drink for himself, approached a redhead who had been staring at him passionately ever since he entered the bar. You led the way to join Annie and the rest of the team, but you were carrying a heavy weight that you couldn't quite explain. You did your best to ignore the stupid ache in your heart and laugh out loud at Butcher's half-made-up stories. It was a rare, heartfelt moment of calm after months, shared by all of you as you briefly watched the redhead woman take Ben's head and lead him to the second floor.

Ben's social batteries ran out after a few hours, and when he got into a fight with Butcher, you volunteered to take him home in your car because you were starting to have headaches too. Annie and Kimiko were dancing in the center; it appeared like they were just getting started. Either their heightened enthusiasm was to blame, or you simply didn't feel like having fun at that particular time. Ben was the source of your annoyance because he preferred to spend his time in the club having fun with other women and left you kind of alone.

You just said, “I will drive Ben back; just stop arguing for once,” and snatched Butcher's keys. “I assume everyone will be arriving home late. It appears that Kimiko and Annie won't be calling it a night anytime soon.” After observing them for some time, they realized you were right. Kimiko was high as fuck.

Ben didn't have a shower in his own room, so he quickly took one in yours once you drove home. Surprisingly, he hasn't complained to Butcher about it in any manner, and you've allowed him to use yours anytime he needs to, even if he occasionally takes a shower a bit too frequently, leading you to believe that he does it on purpose to irritate and enrage you so that you two can argue. But no matter what, his unique word choice never failed to make you chuckle.

As he was taking care of himself in the bathroom, you considered something you had long since ignored: your virginity. You could never go one step beyond, not even if you were in your mid-20s. You just didn't want it to be just one fleeting, pointless act, and you didn't feel anything at all. Perhaps you were a shamefully traditional person who was eagerly awaiting the realization of your real fate.

Ben used to make jokes about your virginity, which you didn't mind, but tonight it kind of got under your skin and made you feel uneasy, like there was something wrong with you. It just didn't seem right at all to be a virgin in your mid-twenties. 

“You appear to be lost in thoughts. What's consuming your mind so much?” Ben queried. 

His long beard and damp hair were pouring over the floor as he emerged from the bathroom, his thick, muscular belly wrapped in a towel. Your eyebrows are raised between your sighs. Though you always knew he was extremely attractive, he seemed even more so at this moment. 

Ben glanced at your short dress too, seeing that you were staring at him as your lips parted slightly in a hint of yearning. He smirked, conceited, seeing your legs pushed together. 

“I think I can make a guess.” He walked over to sit on the bed next to you and mumbled. 

You hesitantly said, “I was thinking something,” not quite sure what to say exactly. 

“About?”

You abruptly asked, trying not to flush too much as you moved the bed and fully turned your body to face him. “Would you take my virginity?” 

Ben exclaimed, “What?” with his lips parted in wonder as he tried to understand what you meant and raised an eyebrow. 

“You already heard me.” 

Ben laughed and ignored your request, saying, “Are you drunk or do you need to jerk off? You're going to be a good nun when you grow up.”

“I'm serious here,” you said, blushing red from embarrassment and rage at the fact that the fact that he didn't take you seriously at all.

Ben's mocking expression changed to one of confusion as he realized you were serious. “I thought you were waiting for the love of your life or something. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?”

“I wasn't waiting for someone,” you denied right away. “I decided being like this bothers me, and I want to change it.”

You continued, “We have known each other for months, and I think we kind of formed a good friendship during this time,” before he said anything, you added, “It must be okay to ask your friend for help, and it's better than to be with a total stranger, right?”

“I'm not the right person to share something like that.” Ben said in a serious tone, “I don't know why you made this decision so quickly, but you'll regret it tomorrow, I promise. If you are horny, I can give fingerfuck you, though.” It was clear that he was not hearing you clearly. 

“It's not really that significant, is it? I didn't wait for someone right away, as I had said. If I knew I would regret saying it, I wouldn't have said it in the first place. What's the purpose of friends?”

Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his damp arms to gauge his reaction while also conveying your concern. You felt your small confidence begin to fade as you noticed he was staring at you with the same expression, so you brought your hands back to yourself. “Well, of course I won't try to convince you to take my virginity if you don't want to get into such an intimate interaction with me,” you said, trying not to seem offended or disappointed. “It's a different issue.”

Your heart raced under your thin dress as you anxiously awaited his response. 

“I would fuck you with pleasure; it's not that I don't want it,” he added, examining your bare legs and breasts as they rose and fell in time with your heavy breaths. He whispered, placing his rough palms on your chin. “But I can't promise it won't hurt, and I don't want it to be just a one-time thing.”

You muttered, “I know it's going to hurt,” and at last he relaxed and seemed to agree. 

He smirked and continued, “I'll fuck your cunt whenever I want,” staring right into your eyes and making you tremble at the sensation. “You'll spread your legs for me and beg me to fuck you.”

“It's better,” you said as his hand lowered to your throat, causing you to become even more thrilled. You chuckled awkwardly and murmured, “Practice makes perfect, right?”

Your lips parted in ecstasy as his thumb massaged your hardened nipple, and he gently pinched it between his fingers through your dress. He didn't even slightly break eye contact with you, as if he wanted to watch every move you made. 

Ben mumbled, “I wonder if you're dripping under there already,” as he climbed on top of you. Feeling uncertain about what action to take, you placed your quivering hands on his large chest. 

His palm stroked your pussy through your underpants, and you clenched around nothing, murmuring, “I feel like it.” You were already embarrassingly drenched; you knew that. 

“Ben,” you murmured quickly, and his hand instantly froze there. He stared at you, confused, not knowing if you wanted to stop or not. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as he was about to return his hand to himself. “Can you do the entire job for tonight” you said in a hesitant manner. “I have absolutely no idea what to do.”

Ben surprised you with a kiss on the forehead and said, “Of course I'll do the entire job. You just lay down and relax. I'm going to take care of you well, okay?”

You nodded quickly, trusting that Ben knew what to do when he started to rub your pussy through your underwear again. Your hips rose higher to meet his movements as he played with your clit with a gentle thumb. “Let's get rid of your dress, huh?” he said, helping you to remove it from your body. You were lying under him naked, except for your underwear.

You wanted to hide your body with your hands because you felt a little shy, but you forced yourself to look at him with courage because you wanted this to be good. Even if he was already erect under the towel, he ignored his own needs to give you the pleasure you needed first.

Then he pinched your nipples once more and added, “You have such lovely tits.” Before you could respond, he put his warm lips on one of your tits and started sucking, giving you very light bites. You were a little scared that he could harm you because you had a big power imbalance since he was a supe, but you chose to put your trust in him because you knew he had experience having intercourse with normal people just like you.

As he continued licking both of your nipples, you placed your hands behind his hair and pulled. You pushed his head to your tit as you raised your hip to match his movement, but you moaned loudly when he ripped off your panties and inserted one of his meaty fingers inside of you slowly, even though you were trying really hard not to scream. It was difficult to take even one finger, so tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't want to ruin the moment.

Groaning, “Fuck, you are tighter than I expected,” he lifted his head.

When he noticed your pained expression, he began to gently massage your clit with his thumb once again. Thankfully, this helped you feel better, and after a while, you began to slowly tighten around his finger.

He asked in a rough voice, “Do you like me fingering you?” and continued to push his finger in and out. “Your pussy is so adorable and swollen. You so desperately need me to fuck you raw.”

He commanded, “Tell me it's just for me,” tensing up his motions as you continued to tighten around his finger.

You said, “Just for you,” and he attempted to press another finger, but you were simply too tense to take it. You said, “Ben, be slow,” in a panic.

“In order for you to take me easier, we need to properly prepare your little pussy. Now spread your legs and don't cover that adorable cunt,” he gave another command. It was then that you realized you were attempting to press your legs together.

You spread your legs so he could see you as per the directions he gave. You let out a loud cry of pleasure and agony as he carefully inserted another finger. Ben swallowed your groans and stretched you with two fingers, his warm lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

You were moaning inside his mouth while his tongue and fingers dominated you. Ben felt your wetness on his fingers, your hips rising to match his rhythm, and he felt like he might come without even touching himself.

With a harsh voice, he commanded, “Cum on my fingers,” and proceeded to fuck you while your walls tensed up. With a loud moan and his name between your lips, you nailed his biceps while he watched you orgasm under his touch. “Good girl. You are so easy to make cum. Fuck, you're a needy one.”

You continued orgasming and wetting them while Ben held your fingers within. Even though your pussy felt extremely sensitive, he continued to finger you without giving you a minute's break after your climax had passed.

“Ben, it feels sensitive.”

“Fucking take it,” he growled. “You'll come as much as I want you to.”

You muttered, “I don't think I can,” as your legs continued to shake uncontrollably.

“You can and you will,” Ben responded, and he proceeded to fuck you even more forcefully than before.

The bedroom was filled with obscene noises, and your eyes welled up with tears of pleasure.

“Cum to me,” he commanded again, and you instantly clenched around his fingers. Putting your hands over his head, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to stop your moans.

As you orgasmed, you sensed him grinning slightly against your lips throughout the kiss. He whispered, “You're so fucking tight, you're almost going to lock me inside your pussy,” as you calmed down after your climax subsided. “I guess you're ready now.”

Your eyes widened with fear and dread as he removed the towel from his belly and threw it to the ground, revealing his firm cock. Ben began to give himself brief strokes while spreading your legs apart. Aware of your discomfort, he smiled slightly at you. “I'll do my best to be gentle. You're enough soaked already.”

You nodded to him, waiting tensely as you watched him pump himself between his rough hands. You tensed up abruptly as the tip of his cock touched your entrance, and he took himself in hand after giving it enough strokes.

He said, “Relax,” and kept pushing the tip inside. “Fuck, take it already.”

You attempted to let him in, your legs trembling with desire and dread, but you couldn't stop clenching.

You whimpered, your eyes welling with tears, as he thrust his cock inside with a forceful move. You also pulled his hair around his neck. Your hips were being held in place by his hands, preventing you from moving them. You were certain that it would bruise badly.

You cried out in fear, “Ben,” as he persisted in pushing. Tears fell from the corner of your eyes onto the covers when you were nailing his arms.

He groaned, “Calm down,” and gave you some time to relax. “It's just the head.”

“Sorry,” you said, ashamed that you weren't able to bear pain and adding unnecessary difficulty to the procedure.

His eyes widened at the sight of your face, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He whispered, “Hey, it's okay. You take me so good, so warm,” in between kisses and proceeded to place his cock inside of you once more. You knew it was a major step for you when you felt like he broke your hymen. This time, his hands gently remained on your hips as he sensed a change in your feelings.

Thank goodness, you relaxed between his kisses and compliments, and your wetness allowed him to enter at last. Ben gave you time to get used to his size after his cock completely filled your insides.

After planting another hard kiss on your lips, he asked, “Are you okay now?” and stroked your cheeks. 

You responded, “I'm okay,” as the agony lessened and you began to get pleasure from his cock pulsing inside of you. 

Ben put his hands on the sheets, and as he started to move slowly inside of you, you locked your legs around his hip. 

He groaned, “You're so tight around me,” as he began to move faster. “I should have fucked you sooner.”

He gave you quick kisses, and his bushy beard tickled your chin as he began to fuck you quickly and roughly. “I'll turn this little cunt addicted to my cock.”

As you continued to moan beneath him, he gave another order: “Tell me you want me to fuck you hard.”

You murmured, “Please,” and he slowed down. 

Ben wrapped his hand around your neck and said, “Beg me properly,” but he wasn't using force against you. 

You sighed, “Fuck me hard, please, Ben.” You moaned as you saw his mucsles stretching as he continued to penetrate you quickly and roughly. Your hands nailed his chest and broad abdomen. 

He put your legs on his shoulders and stated, “I'm going to fuck you every day; make you my little cumslut. Do you enjoy having your friend fuck you? Does this turn you on?”

When he kept talking filth, you couldn’t stop clenching around his cock.

He moaned, “Fuck,” in between hard strokes. “Look at this pussy clench. You really get turned on by it.”

Ben intensified his movements as your legs trembled with pleasure around his hips, and you felt your climax strike with a loud moan and a cunning sneer on his face. You tried biting your lip to muffle the moans, but it was difficult as Ben fucked you raw, on top of you, dominating your whole body. 

He whispered, “I'm going to fuck your face another time,” and put his thumb inside your mouth. “Suck it. Prove to me how much you crave my cock inside your mouth.”

You groaned in displeasure as he slowed. Ben strictly said, “Suck it, show me how badly you want my cock inside your mouth, and I'll fuck you as you need,” when you lifted your hips to get him to return to his previous rhythm. 

With the expectation that he would like it, you put your lips around his thumb and started to lick it with your tongue. 

He mumbled, “Fuck yes, gonna cum inside that mouth,” and started fucking you quickly and roughly once more. 

He muttered, “Almost there,” and continued to fuck you while staring at your bouncing tits. 

His hardness continued to throb inside of you as you tightened around him one more time and orgasmed. He moaned and spilled inside of you, filling you with his thick and warm ropes. 

Ben continued to fill your pussy as your climax subsided. You felt incredibly satisfied because you felt so full of his seed. 

When he was finished, he carefully pulled out his cock, exposing the blood at the tip. Ben gave you a long, hard kiss on the lips when he noticed you were staring at it. 

You offered him a tiny smile as he whispered, “Come closer,” and he embraced you with his large arms. “Are you alright?” 

You continued to stroke his beard while responding, “Yes.” Actually, you've never felt better. 

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: Maybe I was drunk writing this one shot story. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. <3

You can check my MASTERLIST for more.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

yeah