#And from the sound of it that's going to be explored a bit in this arc

[kiragecko]

I decided to do this for the Batfamily. (Preboot version, because I disagree with DC's modern decisions.)

If the Batfam were queer, how would they talk about it?

Dick - awkward and tentative. No clue when he picked up the terminology he's using, but it's probably pretty general/balanced¹. He's not going to be using microlabels, but may have done a reasonable amount of research on whatever term he's accepted. Possibly the most ashamed out of everyone? Look, people haven't been very gentle with him about his romantic, sexual, or personal choices. And he's internalized that. I could see him EVENTUALLY being comfortably open about his identity, but that would be a long journey.

Babs - only talks to romantic partners, if she can help it. Clinical. Probably also prickly. Maybe dismissive. More focused on how it will affect their relationship than on how it affects her, or on specific terms. But also the most likely to explain the split attraction model, or pull up a graph? Possibly she'd shift tactics based on what her partner was comfortable with. Probably it would be to tactics her partner was LESS comfortable with? Babs, make things easier for yourself!

Jason - What flavour of fanon are we using here? Or canon? Using slurs that the people he grew up used for themselves could be accurate. Reading up on all the latest terminology so he can support the street kids seems in character for some versions. (He sounds like he's reading from a brochure, but like he's a counsellor reading from a brochure for your benefit!) Not having thought about it at all because he's been 'somewhat' distracted for most of his life seems VERY likely! Jason contains multitudes.

Tim - avoiding this conversation at all costs. Refuses to use labels. Might describe his experience, awkwardly, if he needed to, but would get distressed if you tried to give it a name. He might be able to accept BEING some flavour of queer, but openly talking about it in ways people can use against him? That might affect social standing and job opportunities? That might disappoint authority figures? No. Most likely to use a fake identity to explore. Has almost certainly done all the research, KNOWS current terminology, and will use it for other people. Just don't suggest he applies it to himself.

Steph - Would probably get extremely attached to language when first accepting it. Maybe to the point of policing things a bit. Because she's defensive and has spent her whole life being policed and judged! MIGHT sound like she was reading out of a college brochure. Possibly DID read it out of a college brochure!

Cass - summarizes complex topics into a 2 or 3 word sentence, and if you aren't following along, that's on YOU. Might like listening to someone else explain their extremely nuanced identity. Might be impatient. It's a toss-up, depending on how obvious she thinks things are, how much you seem to be overcomplicating it, and how much she's picking up from HOW you're saying it. I hope she figures herself out before she learns TOO much terminology, because later Cass respected words a bit too highly, and I want her to be able to understand the fluidity of self without thinking it NEEDS boxes.

Damian - okay, preteen Damian doesn't WANT to know about any of this, thank you. Many preteens do! Damian does not. Damian wants to join in on every rape and hate crime investigation, and also thinks kissing is gross. Wrangling and protecting Damian is a challenge. Older Damian would probably use microlabels, if any applied. (And he felt safe saying anything.) Accuracy is always to be desired! Also, they fit his worldview of exceptionality and isolation.

Duke - I think he'd be pretty comfortable with general, broadly understood, terminology. But he might struggle if that stuff didn't fit. Feeling compelled to explain the nuances of self seems like something he'd find really uncomfortable? So I can see him casually talking about himself if it was easy to talk about, but struggling to be open otherwise. Also, he might get pretty stuck on not being SURE about his identity. How can he talk about it if he might be wrong?? (Tim and Dick might struggle in a similar way, but it would be less obvious because of their other issues.)

Bruce - Extremely likely to used old-fashioned or clinical language, especially if it lets him sound like he's reading out of a psychology text-book. Most likely to accept the language without internalizing the identity. (It might be accurate, but that doesn't mean he needs to ACT on it.) Also most likely to have accept-ED some term 25 years ago and then just never brought it up again or acknowledged it in any way.

Alfred - wouldn't talk about it at all. Relationships are private. If it was important to do so, would use euphemisms like 'close to', 'cared for', 'did a small amount of exploration', etc.

-

¹ I kind of think of modern queer identities coming in 3 broad categories:

general - uses language like 'queer', 'LGBT', 'nonbinary' - commonly understood umbrella terms. Prioritizes fluidity of identity and connection with community over precise description

balanced - prioritizes connection with people of similar experiences, uses broad subcategories like 'gay', and 'trans', or combines broad terms together to suggest more precision, like 'nonbinary lesbian'.

microlabels - breaks down identities into more precise subsets like 'greyace', 'fem-aligned androgyne', 'genderfae', etc. Precise understanding of self prioritized over other people's understanding or connection.

'Microlabels' as shorthand is often used to mock people, so I thought it helpful to explain where I'm coming from.

he would not fucking say that but it’s he would not fucking talk about his queer identity like he was reading out of a college campus lgbt center brochure

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 1

paige x azzi

word count: 4.7k

A/N: This is me attempting to continue a story that someone else started so there’s a little bit of 1st person at the beginning. The two of them don’t know each other in this universe 🫣 Let me know what you think and leave live reacts and comments if you can 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

1st Person POV - Tuesday

The morning light filtered through the windows of Ronald Reagan National Airport, casting a golden hue over the terminal. I walked with an easy confidence toward my gate, the faint smell of coffee lingering in the air from the small kiosk in the corner.

My Delta flight to Hartford, Connecticut, was set to depart soon, and while most travelers shuffled impatiently in their boarding groups, I moved at my own pace, having the quiet privilege of a first-class ticket.

I wasn’t nervous for the trip to Harford. I never got nervous.

Traveling was second nature to me, and today was no exception. Adjusting the strap of my carry-on, I took a quick glance at my phone. Still good. The game wasn’t until Thursday, which meant I had more than enough time to settle in–explore Storrs a little before tip-off.

“Flight 2136 to Storrs, now boarding.”

As the flight crew called for first-class boarding, I stepped forward, handed over my ticket, and was waved through without a second glance. Within seconds, I was making my way down the jet bridge, the cool air-conditioning of the plane a nice contrast to the warmth of the terminal.

Seat 2A. Window. Perfect

I slid into the seat, stretching out with an appreciation for the extra space. The quiet hum of boarding announcements and the occasional shuffle of bags filled the cabin, but I was content. This was going to be a good trip. I’m making the right decision.

A movement beside me caught my attention. Someone slipped into the seat next to mine with an easy kind of grace. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but when she settled in, a sense of familiarity stirred in my chest, so I glanced over slightly.

Azzi Fudd. That’s ironic.

UConn’s star shooter. One of the most talented shooting guards in the country.

For a brief second, I considered saying nothing–letting her exist in peace for the duration of the flight. But then, why would I? Hesitation had never been my thing.

I turned toward her, offering a small but confident smile. “Good morning.”

She glanced over, her expressions polite but neutral, clearly used to traveling alone. “Good morning.”

Leaning back, I let my posture speak for itself–relaxed and effortless. “What’s got you flying to Connecticut on this random Tuesday?”

She let out a soft chuckle, as if the answer should have been obvious. “I go to school there. Was visiting family for a few days.”

I nodded, letting the moment stretch just enough to spark curiosity before adding, “I’m flying in for the game on Thursday.”

This caught her attention. Her head tilted slightly, and she gave me a curious look.

I let the silence linger, enjoying the moment before saying. “I hope you have a great game, Azzi Fudd.”

A small, almost shy smile crossed her lips, her guard lowering just a fraction. “You know who I am?”

I held her gaze. “Yeah, I know who you are.” Then I smiled softly.

She studied me for a second longer, as if trying to piece something together, before letting out a quiet chuckle and turning her attention forward.

Still, I could tell she was thinking about our exchange. I’d seen that look a few times before–the subtle mix of curiosity and amusement. The kind that said, Who is this person?

Which is nice. Something about her not recognizing me made me smile internally. Made a lot of questions fly through my head.

The flight attendants moved through first class, offering pre-departure drinks. I opted for water and Azzi did the same. The cabin was filling up quickly, the sounds of rolling luggage, hushed conversations, and the occasional overhead bin slamming shut blending into the usual pre-flight chaos.

As the final passengers trickled in, I glanced at her again. She was settled comfortably, dressed in a UConn hoodie and joggers, her hair pulled back. Even here, in an airport, getting ready to go 30,000 feet in the air, she carried herself like a top athlete–poised, confident, focused.

Eventually the engine rumbled to life as we pushed back from the gate. I kept my gaze ahead, but I could feel her sneaking quick glances in my direction, still trying to figure me out.

Finally, she spoke.

“So, are you a UConn fan, or…?”

I smirked, turning toward her just slightly. “I just respect greatness.”

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “That’s not really an answer.”

“Sure it is.” I leaned back in my seat. “I appreciate good basketball. UConn typically plays good basketball.”

She considered my words, then nodded, satisfied with my response–for now.

“You from Connecticut?” she asked, shifting slightly to face me better.

“Nope.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re flying in just for the game?”

I nodded. “Yeah something like that.”

“Must be a big game for you to make the trip.”

I shrugged. “It’s basketball and it’s UConn. It should be a good game. Why shouldn’t I?”

She smiled again, this time more openly. “I like that answer.”

I smiled softly, letting my gaze linger for a moment longer before looking away.

The plane started its ascent, leveling off the ground. So I pulled out my phone, flipping through my playlist, but I could feel her still looking at me, still wondering.

I let the silence stretch a little longer before glancing at her. "You always sit next to people who know exactly who you are, or am I just lucky?"

Azzi laughed at that, shaking her head. "This is definitely a first."

"Glad I could make your morning interesting."

She tilted her head slightly, as if she was debating something, then asked, "So what's your story? You a journalist? A scout? Former player?"

I chuckled. "You tell me. What do I look like?"

She squinted, pretending to analyze me. "Hmm... not a journalist. You don't have that nosy energy and you aren’t leading the conversation much."

I smirked. "Good start."

"Not a scout either. You're too relaxed."

"Keep going."

She tapped her fingers on the armrest. "Former player?"

I gave a small shrug. "Something like that."

Azzi gives me a curious look so I simply add, “Tore my ACL.”

Azzi nods at this, a few thoughts flickering across her face, before she decides to be satisfied with the answer, even though I hadn't really given her a complete one.

For a while, we just sat there, the quiet hum of the plane filling the space between us. It wasn't an awkward silence-it was comfortable, like two people who had met at just the right time, in just the right way.

Eventually, she glanced over again. "Since you know who I am, do I get to know who you are?”

I turned toward her, meeting her gaze with a confident ease. "You'll figure it out."

She let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "Mysterious huh."

I grinned. "I try."

She didn't press further, but I could tell she wanted to. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, arms crossed loosely, a thoughtful look on her face. The rest of the flight stretched ahead of us, and something told me this conversation was far from over.

The flight had settled into a steady hum, the initial rush of takeoff giving way to a quiet cruise above the clouds. I let my head rest lightly against the seat, simply watching the muted sunlight filter through the window as I got lost in my thoughts.

After a while, I reached into my bag and pulled out a book, flipping it open to where I’d left off. The familiar weight in my hands was comforting, and I easily lost myself in the rhythm of the words.

A few minutes passed before I felt it–that subtle sensation of being watched. I didn’t reach right away, just kept reading, letting the moment stretch. But sure enough, when I shifted slightly, I caught Azzi glancing at the pages from the corner of my eye.

I turned another page, pretending not to notice, until she finally spoke.

“Not many people our age read these days.”

A small smirk tugged at my lips as I glanced up, amusement flickering in my eyes. “Our age?”

Azzi shrugged, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. You carry yourself a certain way. Too confident to be young, but definitely not old.”

I chuckled at that, licking my slightly dry lips before I titled my head. “Twenty-two.”

Azzi nodded, like she had just proven a point. “Exactly.”

Something about the way she said it–so certain, so sure–made me grin. I let the moment linger for a beat before turning back to my book, the words on the page suddenly a little less interesting than the person sitting next to me.

Azzi had gone quiet again, but I could tell her mind was still turning.

She was debating something, mulling it over like a question she couldn’t shake. I went back to my book, letting the silence settle, but it didn’t last long.

“Okay, I’m sorry—I can’t help it,” she finally said, exhaling a quiet laugh. “I need some more answers from you.”

I arched a brow, slightly amused at her behavior, before slipping my bookmark into place and setting the book down on my lap. Adjusting slightly, I leaned against the window, fully turning my attention to her now.

Azzi met my gaze for a brief moment, her brown eyes flickering with something unreadable when they met my blue ones before she blinked away breaking the eye contact as she shifted just enough to regain composure.

“I’m usually not much of a talker,” she admitted.

I tilted my head slightly, a small smile playing at my lips. “But?”

Azzi exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe herself right now. “But you know who I am, and you’re flying in for the game on Thursday. That seems like the universe trying to tell me something. Like I should talk to you more.”

I laughed at that. “God works in mysterious ways.”

That made her smile. “So you’re religious?”

“I am.”

Azzi nodded, taking that in, before grinning. “You’re a woman of few words.”

I chuckled. “I’m not much of a talker these days.”

Azzi picked up on that instantly. “These days?”

Her curiosity was sharp, intentional. She seemed to pick up on little things that most people didn’t. I met her gaze again, letting the words settle between us before answering.

“Things kinda just happen in life that change how you used to be,” I said simply, my voice carrying something quieter. Then, with a small, almost nostalgic smile, I added, “I used to be a chatterbox.”

Azzi studied me for a moment, then exhaled a soft chuckle. “I see you’ve opted for more of the mysterious route these days.”

I smirked. “Something like that.”

She hummed, shifting slightly in her seat. “How much do you know about me, exactly?”

That question made me grin. I could tell she was fishing, trying to gauge just how much of her life I’d kept tabs on if any.

“I just follow basketball,” I said smoothly, tilting my head slightly. “I don’t know much about you specifically… if that makes you feel better.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh, a smile tugging at her lips. “I never said I felt bad about it.”

That made me squint slightly, studying her. There was something playful in the way she said it, like she was testing the waters, waiting to see how I’d respond.

After a beat, I nodded. “Fair.”

Azzi held my gaze for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes before she finally looked away, exhaling softly. She drummed her fingers against the armrest, like she was debating whether to keep pressing or let it go.

I figured she would drop it, but then she glanced back at me. “So, if you just follow basketball, that means you’re a fan of the game itself—not necessarily the players?”

I smirked slightly. “That’s what I said.”

Azzi hummed, shifting in her seat so she was angled toward me again. “Alright then. Who’s your favorite team?”

I chuckled at that. “You want the real answer or the diplomatic one?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh, so there’s a wrong answer?”

“More like one that might bruise your ego a little.”

Azzi let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Now I have to know.”

I leaned back, letting the suspense build for a second before finally answering, “I’ve always been a South Carolina fan.”

Azzi made a face at this answer. “Wow. That’s crazy.”

I laughed. “I warned you.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You had me thinking the universe was setting something up here, and then you hit me with that.”

I smirked. “Didn’t realize this was a dealbreaker.”

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to think. “I guess I’ll allow it.

I let out a soft laugh, nodding. “That’s generous of you.”

She grinned but didn’t say anything for a moment, just studying me again, like she was still trying to piece something together. Then, finally, she asked, “So… do you still play?”

I ran my fingers along the edge of my book, considering my response. “Yeah. Just not this season.”

Her eyes flickered with recognition. “Because of the ACL?”

I gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

She exhaled softly, like she understood exactly what that felt like. “That sucks.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Tell me about it.”

Azzi tilted her head, studying me again. “What position?”

“Point guard.”

She grinned slightly. “Figures.”

I raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi smirked. “You carry yourself like one.”

I chuckled, shaking my head a little. “And how exactly does a point guard carry themselves?”

She shrugged. “Like they’re always in control. Always seeing two steps ahead of everyone else.”

I hummed, amused. “Insightful.”

Azzi leaned back in her seat, a knowing look in her eyes. “I have my moments.”

I let the moment stretch between us, then smirked. “You’re not wrong, though.”

She smiled, like she already knew that. “Figured.”

After this Azzi kept the conversation going, steering it effortlessly. She asked about my recovery, how long I’d been in D.C., and what I thought of UConn’s season so far. I answered when necessary, but mostly, I let her take the lead, watching how she engaged—curious, thoughtful, but never overbearing. It was easy, the kind of conversation that didn’t require effort.

At some point, the captain’s voice crackled through the speakers, announcing our descent into Hartford. The mood between us shifted—not awkward, just quieter, like we both knew whatever this was, this easy back-and-forth, would soon come to an end.

The plane touched down smoothly, and after taxiing for a few minutes, the seatbelt sign flicked off. Azzi and I stood almost at the same time, and for the first time, she actually noticed my height.

Her gaze flickered upward, just slightly. Not by much—maybe an inch and a half, two at most—but enough for her to register it. I saw the way she took in the difference, her eyes narrowing just a little before she smirked to herself.

I grabbed my carry-on from the overhead, and just as I was about to step aside, an older woman across the aisle struggled to pull down her own bag. Before I could think twice, I reached up, easily grabbing it for her and setting it down with a polite smile.

Azzi was already in front of me, but I caught the way she paused, how her eyes flicked toward my arm. It wasn’t much, but I knew what she saw—how the muscles, usually understated, tensed for just a second, giving away what I was in fact an athlete.

She didn’t say anything, but there was something in the way she blinked, like she was filing that detail away.

I smirked slightly. “See something interesting?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled. “Just confirming my suspicions.”

I let out a quiet chuckle, grabbing my bag as we started moving down the aisle. “And what suspicions are those?”

She looked forward again, shaking her head like she wasn’t about to give me the satisfaction of an answer. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

I huffed a small laugh, following her off the plane. “You have no idea.”

As we filtered out into the terminal, the steady hum of airport chatter surrounded us. The moment was nearing its natural end, both of us instinctively moving in different directions. I adjusted my bag, glancing ahead when Azzi suddenly slowed, turning back toward me.

“Alright,” she said, her voice light but pointed. “Can I finally get your name?”

I exhaled through my nose, pretending to consider it for a moment before cracking a small smile. “Paige.”

Azzi repeated it softly, like she was testing how it sounded. Then, her smile grew. “Paige.”

I nodded.

Her eyes flickered with something—curiosity, maybe. “Where are you sitting Thursday, Paige?”

I huffed a quiet laugh, shifting my weight slightly. “You’ll see me, don’t worry.”

Azzi let out a laugh of her own, shaking her head. “Mysterious until the end, huh?”

I smirked.

She took a small step back, still holding my gaze. “Alright then. I hope I see you Thursday, Paige.”

“See you Thursday, Azzi.”

I turned first, heading toward baggage claim, but I could still feel her eyes on me for just a second longer before she finally walked away.

3rd Person POV - Wednesday

The low hum of conversation filled the diner, a cozy spot just off campus. The kind of place where students and locals alike came for a quick, unpretentious meal. Azzi sat alone in a corner booth, her food pushed slightly to the side as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone between bites of her sandwich. She had just finished practice, still dressed in a UConn hoodie and sweats, her legs stretched comfortably under the table as she enjoyed the serenity of being alone after a long day.

The bell above the door jingled as another customer walked in. Azzi didn’t look up at first, too focused on her own space, but a shift in the atmosphere made her glance toward the entrance.

Paige.

Azzi blinked, caught off guard for a second. Paige moved through the diner with the same confidence she had on the plane–unhurried, assured, like she was exactly where she was meant to be. When their eyes met, a small smirk tugged at Paige’s lips as she adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and changed direction, walking toward Azzi’s booth without hesitation.

Azzi leaned back slightly, watching as Paige came to a stop at the edge of the table.

“Didn’t take you for a diner person,” Paige said, tilting her head as she glanced down at Azzi.

Azzi quirked a brow. “And what exactly did you take me for then?”

Paige exhaled a quiet chuckle. “Not sure yet.”

Azzi let out a small laugh at that, shaking her head. She gestured toward the other side of the booth. “Since you seem curious, you might as well sit.”

Paige didn’t hesitate to take the invitation, sliding into the seat across from her. The air between them felt the same as it had on the plane—slightly charged, neither of them in a rush to give too much away.

For a moment, Azzi just observed her. The dim lighting of the diner softened Paige’s sharp features, but there was still something unreadable about her, a layer just beneath the surface that Azzi wanted to press into.

“So,” Azzi started, fingers tapping lightly against her cup, “what brings you here?”

Paige leaned back, resting an arm on the top of the booth. “Needed some food and this was near my hotel. Didn’t expect to run into you if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Didn’t expect, or you don’t mind?”

Paige smirked slightly, neither confirming nor denying. Instead, she nodded toward Azzi’s half-eaten sandwich. “That any good?”

Azzi shrugged. “It’s a sandwich.”

“Helpful.” Paige snorted, glancing toward the menu.

Azzi studied her for a second before speaking again. “So, you gonna tell me where you’re sitting tomorrow, or are you still trying to be mysterious?”

Paige grinned. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I told you.”

Azzi shook her head, amused. “You really don’t give anything away, do you?”

Paige’s smile softened, but there was something thoughtful in her expression. “Not much to give these days.”

Azzi caught that phrasing again—these days. She let it settle between them for a moment before leaning forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table.

“You’re interesting, you know that?”

Paige raised an eyebrow, lips twitching like she was trying not to smile. “That a compliment?”

Azzi mirrored her expression. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, leaning in just slightly. “You haven’t decided if you’re complimenting me?”

Azzi opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when the server appeared at the table setting a water down. The girl gave Paige a once-over, her gaze lingering a lot longer than necessary. It wasn’t subtle, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Paige blinked, raising an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

The waiter, undeterred, flashed a grin and asked flirtatiously, “What can I get for you?”

Paige tilted her head slightly. “I’ll just have what she has.”

The waiter jotted it down, her eyes flicking back to Paige, clearly intrigued. “I’ve never seen you around here before,” she said, voice tinged with interest. “I would’ve remembered a face like that.”

Paige gave a tight, polite smile. “I’m not from here. Just visiting.”

The server hummed thoughtfully, clearly trying to piece something together, before she walked off with a final lingering glance.

Azzi watched the whole interaction with mild amusement, eyes flicking to Paige’s expression. Once the server was out of earshot, Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You certainly have a way of leaving an impression.”

Paige shrugged, leaning back in her seat again, her lips curling up into a faint smile. “Guess it’s a talent.”

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at that. “A talent, huh? I’m starting to see why you don’t need to talk much... you let people do it for you.”

Paige’s smile softened slightly as she shifted in her seat, taking a moment before responding. “It’s easier that way. Sometimes.”

Azzi leaned back, propping her chin up in one hand. “And what makes it easier?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to Azzi, as if weighing whether or not to answer. There was something about her, something quiet but intense that made Azzi lean in just a little closer, her curiosity growing.

Finally, Paige shrugged slightly. “Not everyone needs to know everything.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that your way of saying I won’t get the whole story?”

Paige chuckled softly, meeting her gaze. “I didn’t say that. May it’s just not the right time yet.”

Azzi didn’t push. Instead, she just smiled, amused by the game they were starting to play.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” Azzi said, leaning back as she crossed her arms with a grin. “Maybe I'll try to get you to talk tomorrow.”

Paige shot her a look, her lips curling into something a little more playful. “Yeah maybe you’ll get lucky.”

Azzi let the words hang between them for a moment, her grin deepening. “I think I like my odds.”

Paige only hummed, picking up her water and taking a sip. “Do you?”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, studying her. “You don’t seem like the type to say things you don’t mean.”

Paige set her cup down, her expression unreadable. “And what type do I seem like?”

Azzi’s gaze flickered over her, deliberate but not too obvious. “Still figuring that out.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “That why you keep asking so many questions?”

Azzi smirked. “Something like that.”

Paige tapped her fingers against the table. “And here I thought you were just being friendly.”

Azzi leaned forward slightly, her voice light. “Maybe I am Paige.”

Paige arched a brow, but before she could respond, the waiter appeared, setting down her plate.

“Here you go,” the waiter said, her tone lingering as she looked at Paige with clear interest. “Can I get you anything else gorgeous?”

Paige offered a polite but tight smile. “No, thank you.”

The waiter hesitated just a second too long before finally nodding and stepping away.

Azzi, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, took a slow sip of her drink. “You make friends fast.”

Paige picked up her sandwich, glancing at Azzi with a smirk. “You jealous?”

Azzi exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. “Not even a little.”

Paige chuckled, digging into her food. “Good. I’d hate for that to be another thing you had to figure out.”

Azzi’s gaze lingers on Paige for a moment before she speaks again, her tone smooth but laced with something playful. “So, you’re telling me there’s a chance?”

Paige picks up her fork, raising an eyebrow. “A chance for what exactly?”

Azzi shrugs, pretending to be casual. “For me to get some answers out of you tomorrow.”

Paige pauses briefly, just enough for the words to settle, before taking a bite of her food. “Didn’t say that.”

Azzi watches her, amusement flickering in her eyes. “But you didn’t say there wasn’t.”

Paige smirks slightly but doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a direct answer. Instead, she gestures toward Azzi’s plate. “You done with that?”

Azzi leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Trying to change the subject?”

Paige shrugs, blue eyes glinting a little. “Just figured you might be too busy trying to figure me out to actually eat.”

Azzi lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I can multitask.”

Paige tilts her head slightly, as if assessing her. “Good to know.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a second longer than necessary, a quiet challenge passing between them, before Paige finally breaks eye contact to take another bite. Azzi smirks to herself, leaning back against the booth.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes flickering over Paige with something unreadable behind them. “You’re really hard to get a read on.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, tearing off a small piece of her sandwich. “That’s funny. You seem to be doing just fine.”

Azzi smirked. “Am I?”

Paige shrugged, popping the bite into her mouth. “You tell me.”

Azzi watched her for a moment before shaking her head with an amused smile. “You like making people work for it, don’t you?”

Paige leaned back slightly. “Depends on the person.”

Azzi hummed at that, tapping her fingers against the table. “And what about me?”

Paige didn’t answer right away, just let the moment hang between them before finally saying, “Guess you’ll have to figure that out Azzi.”

Azzi exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t make anything easy, do you?”

Paige smirked. “Where’s the fun in easy?”

Azzi opened her mouth to respond, but then her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then let out a small sigh. “Alright, I gotta get going.”

That’s when she reached for her wallet, and Paige immediately waved her off. "I got it. Don’t worry about it."

“I can't let you do that."

Paige met her gaze, smirking. "Azzi, it’s a sandwich. Ten dollars won’t kill me."

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Fine, but I’m getting it next time."

Paige arched a brow. "Next time?"

Azzi pushed up from the booth, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Yeah, next time." She adjusted her jacket before glancing at Paige one last time. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Paige."

Paige watched her for a second before nodding. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Azzi."

Just as Azzi turned to leave, Paige called out, "Hey, Azzi."

Azzi stopped, looking back with a curious expression. "Hm?"

Paige hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing her words before saying, "I need you to be open-minded tomorrow, okay?"

Azzi’s brows furrowed slightly, intrigue flickering across her face. She studied Paige for a beat, noticing the subtle seriousness in her expression, then nodded slowly. "Okay."

A small smile crossed Paige’s lips. "Thanks."

Azzi returned the smile before stepping back. "Bye, Paige."

Paige watched her leave, tapping her fingers lightly against the table, a thoughtful look settling in her eyes before she went back to eating her sandwich.

[may-stuff]

a friend in need. - fc43

summary: you've been best friends for almost your entire lives. who is he to deny you some help when you need it the most?

warnings: afab!reader, masturbation, oral sex (m), dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie || typos and grammatical mistakes because english is not my first language and I'm a little stupid. also, this isn't great in any way so please don't be mean, thank u.

word count: 6.6k approx.

a/n: please please please, if you read this and you like it at least a little bit, please interact with it. If I don't get notifications I die 🥀

In the loneliness of your bedroom, you can't help but let your mind wander. Surrounded by shadows that seem to whisper his name in your ears, you get engulfed in the reminisce of him and almost every moment you've shared together. 

Behind your closed eyes you can see his beautiful face, his hair that smells so good, his hands and those long fingers that have touched you in a friendly way countless times before but tonight, tonight you remember those interactions from another perspective, in a new light. 

Not everything is about his physique, though. The brightness of his smile that could light up an entire room, his laugh and the sound of his voice- everything about him is perfect, even the imperfections. You also think of his moody, short answers in the morning when he's still sleepy; you think of his frown and the look in his eyes when he's angry for something or at someone, and even that seems like undeniable proof of a kind of beauty you've never seen before in anyone else. 

Your feelings for him, you realise now, go beyond everything; but tonight, in the quiet of your own room and with the knowledge that you'll never be more than his dear, best friend, you decide that setting your imagination free won't hurt anybody. He doesn't have to know, you don't even have to say his name out loud. 

Only in your mind. His name echoes in every part of your conscience as you imagine. You imagine him in situations that you're sure you'll never see him in. You imagine him kissing you, both softly and then roughly, as if he were trying to consume all of you. Your mind shows him on top of you, his clothes gone, his lips on your skin and your name coming out of them in a plea. 

The visions in your head are so clear that soon your own hands are exploring your body. First, they travel up and down all through your abdomen, making you feel goosebumps at the thought of how good this would feel if it only were his hands on your skin. When you reach your breasts and cup them in your hands under your shirt, you can't help but to moan softly, even more when your fingers pinch your nipples that, in result, become impossibly hard in a matter of seconds. With the image of his beautiful lips wrapping around your hardened peaks, painting them with his own saliva, you feel that familiar pressure in your lower abdomen. That sensation that comes with the arousal that becomes physical and pools in the deepest parts of you, coating your underwear more and more with each second that passes and he's still in your mind, touching you, making you feel better than any man has ever done before. 

In the complexity of the mind, a deep feeling of guilt presses onto your chest. You know this is wrong, you know this isn't what you should do when you think of your dearest friend, but you can't help it. You can't avoid the feelings and the images in your mind. It's like a film that won't stop playing over and over; it's a bunch of images of him on top of you, inside of you, whispering the filthiest things right in your ear. It's him telling you how divine you feel around him, how much he loves being buried deep inside of you. It's his voice moaning and grunting, face hidden in the curve between your neck and your shoulder. 

It's your hands caressing his back and your nails digging into his flesh every time he moves inside you, the lewd sounds of his cock sliding into your hungry pussy filling the room and, in response, making you more needy. 

In the real world, your left hand has already reached your underwear. Your fingers come in contact with the wet spot right above your slit and you moan softly to the knowledge that you've become this wet only because he is in your mind. And as the guilt hits you once again, trying to drift your mind away from the pleasure that the thought of him gives you, you decide to go against it. 

He will never know about this. 

That thought is decisive. Your shirt and underwear are gone in a matter of seconds, and when you feel the soft air coming in from the window and touching your skin, you shiver. You wish he would be here, his natural warmth engulfing your body and soul, making the sadness and loneliness go away. But you're alone in your empty house- and even if he were here, he wouldn't be where you want him to be. 

With the crude reality put in the back of your mind, your fingers finally travel down to where you need attention the most. Feeling your own dampness, you let out a deep sigh. No one has ever made you this wet, not even yourself. All of this is thanks to him, because of him. The fire in your veins, the need to feel pleasure, the need to cum, all of this intensity is due to him and his face engraved in your mind. 

That's why you can hear his voice so clearly in your head the moment one of your fingers finds its way inside of you. The familiar intrusion feels good but it's obviously not enough, so it isn't surprising that a second finger adds to the first in a matter of seconds and this time you feel fuller. You feel fuller and needier, because now you're realising that nothing will be actually enough, because what you need isn't a matter of size, it isn't a matter of how and how much; it's about him. It's all about him. 

About his face and his hands and his voice. About your own fingers trying to find the right pace as you can almost feel his lips on your skin. It's about you and the need to say his name even though you know that you shouldn't, because if you do, it'll become real. The shameful thought that you want your best friend in ways that you shouldn't, will become true if you say his name out loud. 

But you can't help it. Your fingers inside of you feel good enough to make you whimper and mutter words that don't make sense. They're enough to fuel the images in your mind and you can't take it anymore. So, against your will, his name leaves your lips and you feel some sort of relief with it, because now your needs have claimed his name as their own. Your lust has a name now, and you can't stop saying it. 

“Franco.” 

It comes out in a soft plea at first, loud enough so only you can hear it. But it doesn't take much time or effort for you to continue further, saying it louder and louder each time your fingers enter your cunt again. Soon the room is filled with your pleas and cries that almost sound like you're in pain, because in a way you are, but his name falling from your lips over and over are enough to cover them up. Or at least that's what you think. 

You would have heard the front door opening and closing if you were paying more attention to your surroundings. You would have heard the voice calling your name once, twice a second later and then the steps getting closer to your room. You would have had time to cover yourself and come up with an excuse if you weren't so lost in your own mind and body. That's why the only thing that brings you back to the present, to reality, is the light that bathes your face when your bedroom's door opens. 

Everything happens so fast that you're sure you won't be able to recall this memory in the near future. Or maybe you will, and it will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

Once your eyes get used to the light that has suddenly corrupted the darkness in your room, your heart starts beating fast with horror. 

He's standing there, at your door, and the expression on his face is quite difficult to decipher. At his complete mercy, you're fully naked, laying on your bed with your legs wide open and your hands on your cunt; one of them with fingers buried deep inside you while the other is resting a little bit higher, just above your clit. Your chest is rising up and down with the heavy breathing that the pure terror and shame have triggered. Eyes wide open, mouth agape, you're frozen in the spot, unable to say a word, unable to act. 

The tension in the room is cut when he says your name, and maybe you're imagining things, but his voice sounds strangled.

Then, after some seconds, he mutters it again, your name. This time you're sure he's shocked with the scene in front of him but not entirely disgusted. 

The fear and guilt that had taken over you vanish almost completely when you see the expression on his face. Your eyes have adapted to the shining light coming into the dark room, so now you can see him more clearly, and the strange glint in his eyes is enough to make you think that maybe, just maybe, something good can come out of this situation.

Franco's eyes are wide open for a few shocking seconds. Then, when his brain processes the image before him, they start roaming your body. Bright green eyes observe your chest, bare tits and hardened nipples that seem to get even harder under his gaze. The valley between your breasts is covered in sweat and, in a strange way, that makes them look even more appealing. Your stomach, then, is a zone that perhaps you feel a little concerned to show too much but his expression doesn't change at any stop his eyes make on your body. He admires every part with the same intensity, with the same look of bewilderment in that gorgeous face.

He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible groan when his eyes reach your lower stomach and your legs, long and thick. His mouth agape when, in a sudden movement full of boldness, you open them a little wider and let him see more. He's standing to your right, so he can't see all of you properly, but he can see enough and, by the expression on his face, he's loving every second.

The absence of a negative reaction on his part emboldens you to act. Your hands, as if they were separated entities from the rest of your body, resume the earlier activities. Two of your fingers find your clit at the same time your left hand grabs one of your breasts. A sigh leaves your lips at the sudden contact and the fact that Franco is watching your every move makes a wave of pleasure hit you hard. You're aware that you're starting to put on a pornographic show for your best friend and, honestly, you're enjoying it maybe too much.

This is the first time you've seen him so focused on something. All those times he told you he struggled with his own attention span, you should've known that being naked in front of him, touching yourself for him, would be all he'd need to keep quiet and focused. That's why you chuckle when your eyes find him again and you see that his gaze is still fixed in your body.

The sound, a mix of a giggle and a moan, make him look at your face.

"Franco." You moan his name for the hundredth time this evening and rejoice when you actually see him shiver at the sound of your voice. "Please, please help me." You whimper, your own fingers pumping in and out of you faster each time. Harder. "I need you."

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and you know that he's fighting against something, against the fact that, if he gives in, everything will change. You will be friends no longer, because friends don't do this, friends don't want each other in such a way. But you do, and both of you know it. You both also know that, if you act on your shared desire, then when the moment is over you'll probably be in a limbo, trying to figure out what comes next.

But Franco actually doesn't care about the after, he almost never thinks too much before he acts. He lives the moment. You know that and your knowledge gets reinforced when he opens his eyes again and walks towards you, closing the door behind him. In response your heart flutters with excitement. 

Your fingers leave you and go up to rest on your lower stomach when he reaches your side. He's standing at your right, and this time you realize that he's looking at you in the face, looking for your gaze. When your eyes finally meet again, you can read a question that is answered with a nod of your head. 

You want this. You want this so bad. 

Franco's left hand caresses your hair first. His long fingers intertwine in your locks and for a moment you close your eyes to enjoy the innocent touch that, in a different situation, would get you to sleep. But the grip becomes a bit firmer and now he's tugging on it so your head can move to the side again, that way you can meet his eyes. As his hand leaves your head and travels to your soft cheek and then your lips, you don't stop looking at each other. 

A gasp leaves your throat when his thumb sits on your lower lip, and then he puts it inside your mouth, gently enough to give you time so you can reject him if you want. But you don't, you would never.

Soft lips wrap around his finger. Franco's reaction to the feeling of your tongue against the pad of his thumb in an almost imperceptible moan. The sound is low, coming out from the centre of his chest through gritted teeth, and it is the first time in the night that you feel some sort of pride fluttering inside you. The simple fact that he's reacting like this to the first physical contact with you is enough to make you act even bolder than before, and you keep sucking on his finger while looking him in the eyes. 

Franco smiles almost tenderly before the tone of his voice becomes twisted. 

“Who would've thought…” he mutters, still looking at you. “That you were such a desperate slut, huh?”

The sound you make in response to his words is almost inhuman. You're desperate and he can hear it in the tone of your moans, that are still muffled by his finger inside your mouth. 

“All these years…” he continues, voice feeling like velvet on your heated skin. “You were always such a good girl. Always the one to behave properly, wise beyond her years, or at least that's what all of them said, your family and mine… What would they think of you, (y/n)?” Franco asks, the mocking tone coming back. You squirm on the bed as you take his finger deeper and hollow your cheeks, imagining his cock in its place. 

“What would they think of you, (y/n)?” He presses on. This time, you look up at him. “If I told them about this. How I found you naked on your bed, fingers deep inside your soaked cunt while moaning my name like the fucking little whore you are. What would your family say? And mine? Should I let them know how much of a slut you're?”

You almost cry when he takes his finger off your mouth. 

“Answer me.” He commands. “Should I let everyone know?”

“If it pleases you.” You answer, voice sounding a little hoarse because of the previous activity in your throat. 

He smiles. 

“Is that what you want? To please me?”

You nod, fully conscious that you're making yourself look desperate- and actually you are. His mere presence, the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne and the fact that he apparently wants you as much as you want him is enough for you. You're more than ready for him, for all of him, and Franco knows it. 

He knows it because it's written in you. All over the expression on your face and the way you open your legs for him when his right hand travels all the way down to your knee, and stays there, not moving back but neither further, torturing you silently. 

“Please.” You whisper. “Fran, I need you.”

It's funny, though. You're the one who's ready to please but you also are the one who begs. You've been actually begging him to touch you since the moment you saw him standing at the threshold.

Franco wishes you could read his mind and know that he's waited for this moment for a long time. He's wanted you since the moment you met, all those years ago. First, it was an innocent crush, that was all a child could offer, of course. But since you both grew into yourselves and he started to discover the world and other people- Franco had been with enough people to know that none of them could compare to you, even if he hadn't laid a hand on you yet. Something about you, about your aura, about the strong pull he felt towards you every single time you were in the same room, would assure him that nothing, no one, could compare to you. 

And now you're here, right in front of him, begging. The sound of your voice is almost haunting, like you're in deep pain. He could ask himself over and over again if this is the right thing to do, but in all honesty, he doesn't care about that. He only cares about you and the painful desire you make him feel even when he hasn't touched you properly yet. 

Besides, if you really need him as you say,  if you're in pain as you sound, who is he to deny you his help? Isn't he, after all, your best friend?

That thought is all he needs to vanish his worries to the darkest pit of his mind. 

“Are you really sure about this?” His voice cuts the silence once again. The eager nod coming from you makes him smile. “I need words, love.”

“Yes.” You answer almost too fast. “Please, Fran. Please. I can't wait anymore.”

He curses under his breath because he honestly can't believe it. He's amazed by your eagerness and so fucking turned on that he feels like he's going to cum right here and now. 

So, to avoid that, Franco doesn't waste any more time. Before you can blink twice, he's undoing his trousers and underwear, pulling them down as his hard cock springs out. You moan at the sight of it. Long and thick enough to make your mouth literally water, standing proud and impossibly hard against his shirt, almost staining the fabric with the precum that pools at the angry red tip. It's beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your cunt hurts with the anticipation of feeling it in you. 

After taking his shirt off, Franco's right hand travels down to his dick, grabbing it with a firm grip before pumping it a few times, smearing his own juices all over his length, which makes it look even more appetizing. 

You wait in your place on the bed, observing the small show of him touching himself for a few seconds until his right knee sinks on the mattress, right beside your shoulder. Then, his left hand goes to your hair, under your head, lifting it and adjusting it in the right way so the head of his dick is now right on your lips. He traces them with it, as if he were painting them. 

“So fucking perfect.” He whispers. In response, you let your tongue lick around the head of his dick, coaxing a deep moan out of him. The first contact with his skin is delicious but now you want more, so much more. And apparently he feels the same. 

“I'm gonna put it in your mouth. Is that okay, baby?” He asks. You make a sound that it's a mix between a whine and a moan as you nod for the hundredth time in the night. “Gonna suck my cock until I cum down your throat?” You almost jolt in excitement at that. “Yeah? You want my cum?”

Your answer sounds against the skin of his dick, which you keep licking. “Yes. Yes, please.”

That is the last thing you say for a few minutes, right before he presses the tip against your lips again and this time you open your mouth wide enough to take him in. The way Franco moans at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth is pornographic and you thank the Gods for that, the fact that he's always so vocal about everything and this situation is not an exception. Actually, his moans are all the fuel you need to keep going. The taste of him too. Everything about him makes you take him deeper inside your mouth every time he pulls almost all the way back, fucking your face faster and harder as the minutes pass by. 

The grip on your hair becomes tighter as the sounds of your throat being fucked fill the room. You gag only two times, when he pushes all the way in and holds his dick in the deepest part of your throat he can reach, your nose pressed against him and saliva falling down your chin and neck. Every time he pulls out, you take a second or two to gather your breath but soon enough he's at it again, and you receive him without any complaint, relaxing your throat all you can as he keeps filling it over and over again. 

The intensity and pleasure of it all becomes almost unbearable and soon you're pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the almost literal pain you feel. Franco sees it, attentive to your body even though a great part of his mind is clouded with the sweet abandon of pleasure. So, for a few seconds, he eases the grip on your hair so you can start doing most of the work now, because his right hand travels from your knee to your inner thigh, and it isn't long until you can feel his fingers in your cunt. 

Both of you moan at the feeling. You, because the pressure of his fingers on your slit ease the pain you've been feeling; him, because you're so fucking wet that, when he starts massaging your clit, your juices are so abundant that the movements he makes leave a loud, squelching sound behind them.

“You're soaked.” He moans, still inside your mouth and touching you at the same time. “Is this because of me, love?” 

The answer is obvious to both of you, but you answer anyway, “Yes.” You say, a hoarse voice can barely be heard above the sounds of your cunt. “Yes, it's because of you. Always.” 

Franco smiles, “Do you always touch yourself while thinking of me?” You nod and this time he laughs. It doesn't make you feel bad because it isn't a mocking laugh, it's like he can't believe it. “Same. You have no idea how many times I've made a mess while thinking of you.” 

As his velvety voice keeps sounding in your ears, he keeps massaging your clit, faster as the seconds go by. 

“I've imagined you in every position.” He mutters. “I've made myself cum so many times, thinking of your sweet mouth and cunt wrapped around me, milking me as many times as we wish.” 

He's realized from the first moment that dirty talking is one of your weaknesses, and lucky you, he loves saying naughty things, so he keeps doing it as he massages your clit and smiles triumphant when your legs start trembling and you look at him with an expression on your face that he will never forget. Glassy eyes look up at him as your teeth sinks into your lower lip; your orgasm is close and everything about you says so. 

When you try to close your eyes, his hand immediately slows the pace on your clit. You frown. 

“What-?”

“You keep looking at me.” He commands. You want to yell at him, but his movements become fast again and the sweet pressure on your lower belly comes back. “You look me in the eyes as you cum or I won't do this again, you understand?” You nod. “Words, (y/n).”

“I- fuck, I understand!” You moan as his fingers keep working you on at an impossible pace. 

Not many seconds pass by until the first orgasm hits you hard. Your eyes are still on his; your entire body trembling as the most lewd sounds leave your throat. The simple act of having an orgasm while looking at those beautiful green eyes is enough to bring tears to yours. The pleasure is too overwhelming. 

When the best seconds of your life so far end, your body relaxes and Franco pulls both his hands away from you, letting you rest on the bed. The fingers that worked your clit are now in his own mouth as he sucks them clean. The sight makes you moan. 

“Delicious.” He says, coaxing a giggle out of you. “What?”

“You're crazy. And so fucking hot.”

Franco smiles and shrugs. 

“You know me.”

“Not like this, no.”

“Oh, this? This is nothing, love.”

You frown, “You gave me the best orgasm of my life by simply touching my clit and you call it nothing? It never felt like that before.” 

“I mean, it's not my fault that your previous lovers were fucking idiots.”

You smile.

“And you're what, some sort of sex God?”

“That I am.” 

A genuine laugh escapes your lips. You laugh at his smug words and at the entire situation. Everything is so- surreal, in a way. It's almost comical. But the sound dies in your throat when you realize the way he's looking at you. He's not mad or annoyed, he just looks like he's discovered something new in you, but if he did he doesn't say it out loud. 

Soon, when you've recovered from your orgasm, you realize that Franco's still standing by your side and his dick is still impossibly hard. You remember his previous words, about sucking him off until he's cumming down your throat, and you feel the fire inside you light up once again. Your right hand wraps around his dick without a warning and he hisses, but he doesn't pull you away, instead enjoying your ministrations. 

“Not right now.” He says after a minute or two, as if he's reading your mind. You're sure, though, that he's actually reading the expression on your face as you jerk him off. It's clear that you want him to cum. “Not like this, I won't last long.”

You stop. Then, looking into his eyes, you open your legs for him once again. 

“Come here, then.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. In an instant, he's standing at your feet; both hands reach behind your knees and they pull you towards him. 

In a silent agreement, both of you take your time to look at each other. He's lucky enough to have you like this- completely bare before him, body glistening with sweat due to the previous activities, pretty face with an expression of utter pleasure as you anticipate what's coming, unconsciously opening your legs further, letting him fully see you. You're out of this world, so beautiful that it almost hurts. And he isn't so far behind- you also think he's the most handsome man you've ever seen, with those eyes scanning every piece of you, his curls sticking to his forehead and, oh, such a pretty face. His body is something else too- the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, the shape of his arms, his hands. You take his hands in yours for a moment, squeezing them, praying this isn't the last time you feel them on you. 

You're both so mesmerized with each other that your bodies seem to move with their own consciousness, and that's why you share a loud moan when he enters you for the first time. 

It feels like nothing you've experienced before. You can't decide what is it that makes him so different from other people you've been with, but surely, there's something that makes Franco feel like heaven. He stays still for a few, long seconds because he's just realized that he penetrated you without warning and in a single movement, and even though it's obvious that you're ready enough to receive him, he doesn't want to hurt you. 

What he doesn't realise is that you're in pain once again because you need him to move and put an end to this feeling, this primitive need to have him just fucking you hard and deep. And that's what you finally ask from him, without shame, without guilt. 

“Please.” You beg once again. “Move. Please, move. I need to feel you.” 

You're sure you're about to cry but the tears get stuck in your eyes when Franco complies and starts moving his hips. It's slow at first, like he's testing the waters, but when the only thing you do is moan softly and writhe under him, crying for more, his hands leave yours and travel to your hips. Once he's sure his grip on your flesh is firm enough, he accelerates the pace, and starts pumping into you with a force that has you almost screaming. 

Soon you start moving your own hips, meeting him halfway and making the experience a thousand times better, if that's even possible. The feeling of his dick inside you, so fucking deep, is more than anything you've ever felt in your life. 

The room is filled with the sound of your skin against his, and the musky smell of sex intoxicates your senses. You've dreamed about this moment for so long that it feels surreal- his hands on your hips, his cock deep inside you and his eyes roaming the entirety of your body, all of it feels so out of this world and you love every second. You love it so much that you feel drunk with pleasure and something else that you can name yet. 

Franco grins at the sight of your eyes, glassy with tears that you're soon to shed. A deep feeling of pride fills his chest. 

“Look at you.” He taunts, never stopping his movements. “You were made for this, weren't you? You were made for my cock, for me.” 

You nod and moan, unable to form a full sentence as his pace becomes impossibly fast and hard- it's almost too much and the thought of asking him to slow down crosses your mind for a split second, until his hands travel up from their place on your hips to your breasts, and your brain almost shuts down. 

“Gonna enjoy these later, I promise.” He chuckles as his long fingers start kneading the flesh of your tits. When he pinches your nipples, the moan that leaves your throat is almost too much, but you don't care. It feels too good to hold back. 

You relish on the feeling of his fingers on your hard nipples until his right hand stops its ministrations to start roaming the skin of your left side, your waist, all the way back down to your hip and then- then you feel his fingers on your clit again, massaging it with expertise. You can't help but throw your head back as a deep moan leaves your throat. 

“Fuck, yes.” You moan, almost hysterical. “So good, so good- oh my-” 

Franco chuckles again and then says, in a mocking tone, “You're so dirty, (y/n). You really-” his words are suddenly interrupted by a strangled groan as you tighten your walls around him. Your warmth hugging his dick in a way that has him literally losing his balance and almost falling on top of you, and he would've crushed you if his arms weren't strong enough to keep him hovering over you.

His face contorted in an expression full of sheer pleasure, he looks so good with his eyes closed and mouth agape, desperately trying to hold the moans in. 

You're the one who chuckles this time. 

“Too good, huh?” You tease him, your cunt tightening around him once again. He groans and hides his face in the crook of your neck. “Can't take it, baby? Too much for you?”

Franco moans again and then you hear him whisper.

“I'm gonna make you- you will pay for this.”

You giggle softly. 

“I think I'd like that.”

All resolve leaves him when you make your magic again. The feeling of your cunt hugging his dick so tightly is enough to make him lose his mind and almost all control. His movements become messier as they get faster, you feel him twitch inside you once, then twice. You hum at the feeling, caressing his back and nape, then intertwining your fingers with his messy, wet locks. 

“I'm close.” He moans, the sound muffled by your skin. 

“I know, baby. Come on, cum for me."

“You first.”

For a moment you think your words are enough, but apparently they aren't. In a second, Franco seems to take back control of the situation when he suddenly breaks away from your arms, kneeling in front of you just like before- his hard, throbbing dick still deep inside of you. You're about to ask him what's going on but then his long fingers are on your clit again, and you answer by throwing your head back in a loud moan. 

Franco keeps working on the most sensitive part of your body as he starts moving again, in and out, at a torturous pace that has you writhing on the bed. Your eyes fill with tears again and he smiles. 

“Cum for me, love.” He encourages through gritted teeth. You know he's holding his own orgasm back by fucking you slowly, and his will certainly impresses you. “Please, do it. Cum all around my cock.”

How would you deny him? When he looks so good fucking you, working on your clit like this isn't the first time. How would you deny him anything when this is all you've ever wanted?

So you let yourself go. Your second orgasm hits you harder than the previous one, sweet cunt gushing all around him, soaking him and the sheets below you. Your moans are almost pornographic and you feel him twitch inside you at the sound of them. 

In the electric explosion that takes over your entire body and mind, you feel him crawling back on top of you, like he was just minutes ago. His face hiding in your left shoulder again as his hips keep fucking into you aggressively, making your climax last longer than expected. 

“Look at me.” You moan in his ear and your body trembles with the sound of a deep groan coming as a response. After a few seconds of you repeating those words, he lifts his head to look at you, forehead pressed against yours. “Cum inside of me and don't stop looking at me as you do it.” 

He chews on his lower lip. 

“I-inside?” You nod as much as you can. “Fuck, (y/n).”

“Please, I need it.” You moan against his mouth, your eyes on his. “I need your cum.” 

That last sentence is accompanied by his name and the way you moan it's all it takes for him to finally let go. The sounds Franco makes when he's cumming deep inside of you are never going to leave your memory, and you wish, right here, now, that you have the opportunity to hear them again many times from tonight. The sight of him is beautiful too- brows furrowed, eyes desperately trying to stay open and that pretty mouth shaped in an O form. His cheeks are red and glistening with the sweat that's covering him, as well as the tip of his nose.

As he empties inside of you, you keep caressing his back, leaving goosebumps behind your touch. His skin shivers with the feeling, still making little sounds that will haunt you forever. 

He pumps into you two or three times more, still filling you with his release, that soon you start feeling overflowing your cunt, falling down your ass and on the sheets. You wonder if he always cums this hard, and the idea that he might not, that you're the only one that makes him feel like this, it's exciting. 

After some long seconds he stops moving his hips but is still buried deep inside of you. His face goes back to the crook of your neck for the second time and you smile as you feel his hot breath on your skin and then a kiss, then his teeth grazing the spot and sinking into it. 

“That's gonna leave a mark.” You moan. 

“Good.”

You stay like that for minutes that feel like hours, in each other's arms, your skin sticking to his due to the sweat that you both share but you couldn't care less. It feels too good, everything about it feels too good and none of you make an attempt to break away from the other. 

Franco knows, as well as you do, that this has been an event that will change everything forever. Some part of you is afraid of what comes next- a hundred questions flood your brain but the main one is the one that haunts you the most. Was this a one night stand? 

You're about to gather the courage to ask him when he lifts his head to look at you, forehead against yours again. You look him in the eyes and, for a moment, you think that the green in his gaze gives you the answer you so desperately need. But in case you needed confirmation, he decides to speak it out loud. 

“I wanna do it again.” He simply states, and you feel your chest full with happiness. “Like, forever. I really mean it.”

You giggle in response and you feel the tears that you've been holding back slowly falling down your cheeks. Franco kisses them away as soon as he notices them. 

“You liked it that much?” You ask as he keeps kissing your face. He stops for a moment to answer, his lips moving against your jaw. 

“Yeah. But I like you, all of you.” He says. “And I want you so much it hurts.”

“I want you, too.”

He smiles shortly before capturing your lips with his, and you realise that this is the first time you've ever kissed. People are supposed to kiss before having wild sex, but who cares?

All you care about is Franco and his pretty lips on yours, moving with such confidence and expertise that leave you breathless. You can feel everything in that kiss, it feels like he's trying to say all those things that he thinks it's too soon to say yet, but you answer him with the same intensity, making him tremble in your arms. 

His kiss says that he loves you too much to let you go, and you tell him that you feel the same.

a/n2: hope you liked it! pls let me know what you think ♥

[alastor-simp]

Slow Dance With You - Sylus x Fem Reader

♦︎ 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜- 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

♦︎ 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎- 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎

♦𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜- 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚘, 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝙽109 𝚉𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝙰𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜

♦𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜- 𝙶𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 2, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘. 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 :)

♦𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝- 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 -> @adornedwithlight

"Yawnnnnn." Opening your mouth like a fish, you sounded out your boredom, as your body laid against the large leather couch in the living room. You were in the Onychinus base, located in the N109 zone, having been invited by Sylus himself to converse with one another, only for him to be called away for an important call, leaving you alone for a bit. It saddened you that he had to go, but you knew he was an important man, being the leader and all. The two of you had gotten closer ever since your first encounter in the N109 zone, with him erasing the man in front of you with his Evol. The way about him irked you, since you believed he was the cause for the explosion that killed your loved ones. It soon came to be that he was never the cause, making you feel extremely horrible for pinning it on him, the extreme hate for him evaporating without a trace.

He had declared the two of you as "besties", but over time, something else had sprouted between the both of you. His sassy remarks and cute nicknames were growing on you, face becoming flushed whenever he called you "kitten." His demeanor around you had changed as well, his once cold eyes filled with warmth whenever you were around, devilish smirk morphing into a kind smile that could melt your heart. The relationship between the two of you was becoming complicated, not so much friends but no lovers either, it frustrated you, wanting to become closer with him, yet fearing it at the same time since the both of you were enemies.

Stretching your legs, you removed yourself from the couch, heading towards the door, leading to the long hallway. You might as well go explore a bit, since sitting around doing nothing was getting tiring. There were many rooms in the base, each reflecting a lot of Sylus's personality, one room containing a gym where he worked out, another room filled with vinyls showing his love for music. Picking a random door, you grasped the handle, opening it slowly to peak inside.

The room was dimly lit, only source of light coming from the window and the lamp that was lit. Books were layered in stacks, on the floor and in the shelves. Various instruments were in random places in the room, spotting a violin and a beautiful elegant piano in the center

Stepping inside, you took the whole room in, until your eyes locked back onto the piano. It was crafted perfectly, figuring Sylus must have spent a fortune for a piano like this. Lifting up the board, fingers traced along the keys, pressing down to allow a note to echo throughout the whole room. It has been a while since you have ever played a piano before, remembering how much you enjoyed it when you were little. Sitting on the chair, you took a deep breath, hands hovering over the keys, until they pressed down, a soothing melody playing out. As you carried on playing, your body swayed with the music, mouth opening to sing.

🎶𝘚𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦?

𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷e

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶🎶

Finishing the last note, your song was finished, leaving you pleased. Sounds of clapping came from behind you, making you turn, seeing a tall figure standing at the door. It was Sylus leaning against the door frame, crimson eyes gazing at you while wearing his signature smirk. "Didn't know you could sing, kitten." Flustered that he had caught you, you turned away from him. "You never asked." You said, hands motioning to close the top board, covering the piano keys again. Footsteps thudded behind you, indicating that Sylus was walking closer. A hand had motioned to grab your chin, allowing him to observe you. "Acting shy now, are we?" He was teasing you, making you put your hands on his chest, pushing him back. "Stop messing with me." You said, eyes glaring at him. Appearing apologetic, Sylus patted your head, "I'm not teasing you, sweetie. Your singing was incredibly angelic. I quite enjoyed it" His eyes soften, hand going from your chin to trace your cheek. Blushing harder, you dropped your head down, feeling more embarrassed then before, "Thanks."

Sylus chuckled, his cold eyes staring at you warmly, something not many got to see when they met the Onychinus leader. Recalling the lyrics of the song, he had an important question to ask you. "So? Who is it?" Eyeing him with confusion, you pondered what he meant. Noticing your confusion, Sylus decided to expand his question, "Who is the person you want to slow dance with, sweetie?" Oh, that's what he meant, the only answer you could provide him was a shrug, saying the song wasn't really dedicated to anyone, just something you came up with in the moment. Sylus, removing his hands from you, stood straight, eyes looking down at you. "Well, do you want to?" Sylus bowed, hand held in front of you, waiting for you to take it.

His actions stunned you, not expecting him to do this. "You want to slow dance? With me?" Sylus narrowed his eyes, "Do you see someone else here in the room, sweetie? Besides, it wouldn't be the first time we danced." Recalling the mission from the past, you remembered that you had slowed dance before, but that was part of the mission, wasn't it. "That was different back then...um..." Unable to word how you felt, you casted your eyes down. His narrow eyes soften, "Well this won't be like back then, and I want to dance with you." Looking back at him, you saw how tender his gaze was, showcasing how sincere he was. Pushing back the feelings of unease, you agreed, placing your hand in his.

Smiling further, Sylus pulled you closer, hand placed against your waist, face getting closer to his chest. You flushed, but kept it cool, motioning one of your hands to his shoulder. His Evol had appeared, flowing to a record player that was on the other side of the room, allowing soft classical music to play. The both of you then began to sway to the rhythm, yet you were a bit tense, not being a really good dancer, afraid you would step on his shoes. "Heh, relax kitten. It's just you and me here." Sylus gave you a sincere smile, hoping it would be enough to calm you down. "Sorry....I don't want to step on your shoes." You looked down below, monitoring your feet, hoping they wouldn't step on top of his. Stopping for a second, he inched his face closer, forehead pressing against yours. "My shoes are not important right now. The only thing important is the both of us dancing together."

Your heart felt like it was gonna beat out of its chest, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach. Only he could make you feel like this. Smiling up at Sylus, you nuzzled your forehead back against his, causing him to chuckle. The dancing continued, the tense feelings disappearing without a trace. Leaning in, you placed your head against his chest, wanting to be closer to him, allowing you to hear his heartbeat. Sylus didn't utter a word at your actions, smiling more at how adorable you were, his hand on your waist pulling you closer. After awhile, the record player had ceased playing, yet the two of you remained in the same position, slow dancing to your heart's content, never wanting it to end

-END-

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part twelve//t.c.

Warnings: smut, cursing, smut, cum on body, smut, fluff, dirty talk

This one is long, but it is a smutfest

“You don’t really own any skirts, do you?” Timmy asked you randomly that Monday morning. Luckily, it was only the two of you at his place.

“What?” you frowned slightly at him, having to look up from the laptop.

“Skirts. You never wear them.” he said plainly.

“No? Is that a new requirement or something?” you joked.

He pressed his lips together, shrugging, “Maybe just a suggestion. Take my card to whatever stores you like and buy yourself some skirts.”

“And why should I do that?”

He smirked, walking around the kitchen island to where you were sitting, leaning in close, he said, “Because your boyfriend needs easy access.” He placed his hand on your denim-clad thigh, slowly letting it roam inward.

You gasped as he hovered over your pussy.

“See? Wouldn’t it be better if your jeans weren’t in the way right now?” he pressed his fingers against you through the material, circling slowly.

You swallowed, clearing your throat, “Timothée.”

He leaned in closer to your face, “I want you right now.”

“But we’re working.” you fake protested.

“It can wait.” he said, pulling your chair out, grabbing you by the arm and throwing you over his shoulder.

……

“Aw, yesss!” you cried, gripping the sheets hard as Timmy had you bent over the bed. His hips smacked your ass rapidly as his cock plunged in and out of you.

“Oh, baby…my baby girl. Fuck, you feel so good.” his voice quivered with pleasure. He dug his fingers into your hips, holding you up as you were trembling and unable to keep up on your knees.

You threw your hair back with a huff and caught glimpse of the alarm clock on the nightstand, “Fuck! Timmy, Josh Safdie is calling you in five minutes!”

“That’s all the time we need.” he assured you, ramming his cock in you even faster.

You yelped in surprise, your toes curling as he brought you over the edge of an orgasm.

……….

Timmy had his phone to his ear, talking to his director as he wiped his cum off your belly with a damp cloth.

You couldn’t help but giggle at situation.

He gave you a mock angry look and you covered your mouth, still laughing. “No, Josh, it’s not a bad time. That’s just my assistant being a goofball. But yeah, that all sounds great.”

As he wrapped up the phone call, you took the used cloth to the hamper in the bathroom, using the facility before returning to Timmy’s bedroom. You couldn’t help but notice how comfortable you had become in his place. Yes, it was the setting in which you worked often, but it started to feel like home. He felt like home.

You walked back into his room, grabbing his big t-shirt that he had been wearing earlier, but it had been thrown to the floor. You put the shirt on and sat on the bed as he was saying goodbye to Josh.

“Hey, that’s my shirt.” he teased.

“Sorry, do you want me to take it off?” you smiled cheekily.

Timmy shrugged, eyebrows raised, “I mean, you look great in clothes, but I think I like you out of them just a little bit more.”

“Hm, of course you do you.” you said with a playful eye roll.

“So, are ready to go to Tokyo with me?” he asked you nonchalantly and climbed onto you.

“Tokyo? So filming is still on for Marty Supreme?”

“Yeah, everything is being settled now." he rested his arms over your belly, setting his chin there. "And I want you to come with me.”

“As your assistant or…?”

“My girlfriend and my assistant.” he affirmed. “I need you there with me. You help me with so much and I’ll have a shit ton of new lines to go over."

“If I’m getting paid, then okay.” you grinned.

“Oh, that’s the only reason you’ll go, huh?” he gently bumped his nose on yours.

“What other reasons are there?” you asked coyly.

"Hmm, let’s see, there's the Japanese culture to explore, yummy food, then there’s the A Complete Unknown premiere, and um,” his eyes got a darker as his lips turned up into a smirk, “we can fuck over there." he smirked, moving up your body to kiss your lips.

You moaned softly as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, “Mm, fucking,” you spoke between warm kisses, “is that a promise?” You pecked his lips.

“I would fuck you every hour if I could.” his voice was low, he was still hungry for more even though you just got done making love.

You blushed, “Do you love me that much?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“Good.” your heart began to race, you knew it was the right time, “Because I love you, Timothée Chalamet.”

His eyes brightened back up, and he smiled wide, “You do?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean-"

He cut you off with a kiss. He took your face in his hands, “Mm, I’m definitely fucking you again, right now.”

You laughed as he assumed the missionary position, holding your thighs. “We’re not going to get any work done today.” you remarked.

……

The next day, Timmy again brought up the topic of you buying some skirts for work, so you decided it’d be best to oblige him. While out running errands for him, you went to some clothing stores, picked out and tried on skirts and purchased a few with his credit card.

It felt strange, carrying items for yourself. You were used to shopping for Timmy, but then again, maybe this was for him. It was his request, after all.

Once you started wearing the skirts, he seemed quite pleased. You had a black pencil skirt that hugged all the right places, and he would take full advantage, running his hand along your hip as you walked by, cupping your ass when he stopped behind you.

One day, you’d worn a mini skirt, plaid patterned and pleated. He took you in the kitchen within minutes of you starting the workday. He pushed you up against the counter, but he didn’t remove your skirt, he just pushed your panties to the side and slid his cock right in from behind.

Timmy railed you, brought your leg up, placing it onto the counter so he could push in deeper. “Fuck.” he cursed under his breath. He then held you closer, sinking his teeth into your neck.

Your pussy started to convulse around his cock, you whimpered, holding onto his arm and bracing yourself with your other hand on the countertop.

He fucked you mercilessly, lifting you off your feet.

You moaned like a pornstar. He rammed his cock into your g spot over and over, and you clenched your eyes shut, seeing stars. You let go, and your body shook with release. You heard Timmy curse again as fluids sprang out from between the two of you.

……..

“So, your flight leaves at-" you were talking to Timmy when his photographer friend, Aidan, came waltzing in.

“Damn, y/n, since when do you wear skirts? You look fine as hell!” he exclaimed, joining you and Timmy in the living room.

“Hey!” Timmy smacked him hard on the shoulder, “Show some fucking respect.”

“Yo, I’m sorry!” Aidan apologized, rubbing the spot where Timmy hit him, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, just not used to seeing her legs. My bad.”

“It’s all good.” you said with an awkward chuckle.

Aidan sat down on the couch and you shot Timmy a look, and he only shrugged at you in response.

“Well, I’ll just leave you guys alone to hang out. I’m gonna go home.” You looked at Timmy with a nod, “See you when you get back?”

He smiled kindly, “Yep. Miss you already.” he said with your signature boss-assistant banter tone.

……..

Sleeping in your own bed for the first time in days was strange. It proved to be difficult for you to fall asleep without Timmy’s warmth. You never expected to be so consumed by a man, but you weren’t upset by it.

You were in a deep sleep when you were awoken by your phone ringing. You groaned in annoyance, thinking to yourself, “Timothée, I could kill you right now.”

Sure enough, it was him. “Yes, Timothée Hal,” you answered as you put the phone to your ear, “what could you possibly want at this hour?” you looked at the screen, “One a.m. Excellent timing.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” he said innocently, “I really didn’t want to wake you up, but I want you.” He didn’t sound needy in a sexual way, but in a way that exuded his need for your presence. “Can I come in, please?”

“What do you mean? Are you here?” you sat up in the bed.

“Yeah I’m literally at your door. Won’t you let me in?”

“Timothée.” you grumbled.

………

“Hey, baby girl.” he said when you opened the door.

“Hello, it’s one in the morning. We are going to sleep.” you said tiredly yet firmly. You held your hand out to him.

He smiled softly as he took your hand and you lead the way to your bedroom. “I wish you were coming to the Paris premiere with me.”

“But you have to see Kylie while you’re there.” you pointed out.

Timmy groaned, “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Once you were in bed together and settled, he spooned you, and his mouth was on your neck.

“Timmy, I have to sleep. I told you that’s what we were doing.” you said, holding firm.

“I know, but…I want you to ride me.”

“Mm, in the morning.”

“No, now.” he insisted.

“Timothée.” you warned.

“Yeah, and you can say my name. Take my cock and scream my name.” he combed your hair back, kissing your shoulder.

You were getting annoyed…and turned on. Sleep was getting further from your mind. You rolled over to your other side to face Timmy. “What cock?” you moved your hand down, palming him through his boxers. “This cock?” you bit your lip.

“That one, yes.” he smirked.

……..

You were both now completely naked, under your sheets. You bounced on his cock as he lay underneath you. You moaned lightly each time his cock sheathed up into you.

Timmy ran his hands up your tummy, squeezing your breasts, “Yes, just like that.” he praised, “Aidan thinks you’re hot, but you’re mine.”

“No,” you panted, “he was just being nice to me.” You put your hands on his chest, moving your hips.

“No, no, he wants you like this. He wants your body, your pussy, your sweet mouth, your tits bouncing in his face. He wants you the way I get to have you. But I’m the only one who gets this tight cunt. Isn’t that right?”

The way he spoke about your body as his cock was rutting into you got you so worked up and hot. You were enjoying the way his cock was destroying you.

“Hey.” he tapped your cheek, “I asked you a question. This cunt belongs to me, right?”

“Yes, yes, pookie. Only you.” you were drunk on his cock, and you were so out of it.

“Pookie? Maybe don’t use that during sex, babes.”

You whined as friction was building inside of you, “Sorry. But yes, you own this pussy. Fuck, your cock is so big.” You moaned, scratching his chest as you came.

You let out a big exhale, then collapsed on his chest.

Timmy kissed your head, and you were asleep within minutes with him still inside of you.

February 9, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala @heatherpi

[sinful-lanterns]

Since you appreciate my fuzzy tarantula Garofano headcanon, I'm going to spoil you with this little scene I had in mind for Researcher and Drider!Garofano. 😌 Basically, Researcher's being her usual inquisitive self about Garofano, and it starts getting a little sexy. There's a little NSFWish stuff toward the end, but there's nothing too explicit. Maybe I'll consider writing more eventually. Also, I haven't written dialogue in ages, so I apologize for how rusty I am... 😅 Hopefully, this isn't too bad though! ------

You realize this is a bit of an awkward position for Garofano.

You've seen enough dead spiders before--flopped on their backs with their limbs curled toward their torsos with the eternal and graceless rigor of death.

But with the size of Garofano's web, it wasn't too difficult to convince the drider to rest comfortably on her back. You had bribed her with freshly-cooked food--skewers of cubed deer meat from one of her earlier hunts that you had roasted over the open fire. You had also come with some skewers of the raw meat as well if she had preferred something more... fresh.

All the same, it's in her web that the drider reclines herself back on her web, content to eat from your offering while you sit on the length of her abdomen. Garofano seems entirely unbothered by your weight even as you run your hands through the thick fuzz beneath you. The texture reminds you somewhat of bumblebees with its softness. You press a little harder as you rub curiously along one section of her torso, eliciting a soft sound from Garofano.

You look up quickly to see if you might have caused her discomfort, but the drider's eyes are blissfully closed. Movement behind you then draws your gaze that way, and you're momentarily taken aback when you see one of Garofano's segmented legs kicking with seeming delight at your continued touch.

You can't help but giggle.

Rahu did that too sometimes whenever you gave the domesticated werewolf belly rubs.

"So are all driders furry like you?" you ask, one-handedly opening up your trusted notebook while awaiting a response. "No. It varies by region. The hair you see on my abdomen and legs serves a purpose for the driders found in mine though: it allows us to sense vibrations in the air," Garofano explains.

Your eyes widen as you distractedly write that all down. "Really?"

"Yes. Even when standing still, I can tell which direction my prey might be running in."

Wow.

No wonder Garofano's such an amazing hunter.

That little fact was almost as intriguing as the dual claws you found at the tip of each of Garofano's legs during your earlier exploration of her. The drider had said they were used for climbing up vertical or uneven surfaces, but they were otherwise kept retracted. At such a revelation, you had pulled one of the limbs in question closer to you while doing nearly everything in your power to get the claws in question to pop out for you. In your excitement, you had neglected the fact that the leg tip was also directly in front of your face while you were attempting this.

It had earned you a soft, fond sigh along with a chiding "Darling..." before Garofano turned your attention away from her limb by cupping your face within her hands and sweetly smooching you into submission. You could still remember how you hot your face burned when Garofano broke the kiss to give you a nip on your bottom lip before going back to her meal.

Speaking of...

"So... do you fangs do anything else?"

Your question has Garofano blinking curiously. "I can inject venom through them."

That has you bolting upright.

You're venomous?!

"I can control the amount of venom at will," she elaborates calmly upon seeing your expression. "I can inject enough to kill or just paralyze my prey, but often times I forego the need entirely."

"Oh?"

Garofano's shoulders shrug elegantly. "It's more satisfying when I get my prey to submit to me completely of their own volition."

Try as you might, you can't stop the reaction her words give you, especially as you let your imagination runs wild.

------

You can see yourself running through a shallow stream, trying to throw the predator hunting you off your trail. If you leave no tracks behind, then surely you couldn't be found, right?

Right?

You don't know how long you keep running, but you eventually hop onto a grassy bank as your energy begins to wane. With any luck though, the one pursuing you will keep following the path of the stream while you gain further distance between you both.

As the minutes pass, you begin to think your escape is all but assured. In fact, you can see the edge of the forest just some meters beyond you, and you can't help your immense relief as your arms and legs pump faster, urging you towards your well-earned victory.

But then your momentum is completely thrown off when something sticky and threadlike hits your flailing wrist, sending you crashing forwards to the ground. Perplexed, you struggle to get back to your feet, but your wrist remains stubbornly fixed to the forest floor by the webbing that encases it. Panicked, you use your free hand to try and rip it away, but in your distraction, you don't seem the looming figure behind you until it's too late.

In less than a second, your captor has your cheek pressed against the grass while she constructs another lattice-like shackle to bind your other wrist to the ground. You can feel furred limbs pulling at your hips, lifting them up, while another pair make quick work in shedding the clothing covering your lower half.

"You gave me a wonderful chase," a smooth voice croons down at you while firmly nudging at your legs, silently demanding them to spread wider--wide enough that you can feel the chill of the air as you're suddenly left exposed and vulnerable. "Shall I reward you for your efforts, dear?"

You can't find it in you to draw a response, especially when something blunt and wide presses against your wet folds...

------

"Something tells me it wouldn't take much to earn your surrender."

You come out of your thoughts with a jolt to see Garofano looking at you with knowing eyes, but you can see the way her already dark eyes have dilated with considerable interest. It only enhances the very faint smirk on her lips, and you can't help but duck your head with a blush.

"You can tell?" you squeak out, earning low laughter from the drider as she cups your burning cheek.

"While I can't say that my senses are quite as enhanced as our canid companions, I can always tell when you're excited around me. You smell so very good when you are," she admits, voice low with desire, as her hand slips from your cheek to gently wrap around the front of your throat. "Would you like to experience what being my prey is like? Happily cavorting about in the forest before unexpectedly finding yourself on the chase of your life as you're hunted down by a bigger, stronger beast?"

You can't stop yourself from nodding rapidly, heart fluttering when that earns you a fanged grin from Garofano.

"Very well. When I capture you, I'll give you a bite. Right here," she says, rubbing her thumb where your neck meets your shoulder. "That will be my initial prize before I take what else has been offered to me. For now..." She leans forward to give you a chaste kiss--a taste of what's to come. Her smile then as she parts from you is all pure sin. "I'll give you a ten-minute head start..."

-- 🌙 anon (maybe I'll make myself a side blog one of these days)

GOD I'VE BEEN HOARDING THIS ASK FOR SO LONG. I think it's about time I finally post it though, it's just so good I need to share it with everyone, it's practically a fic...

FLUFFY TARANTULA GAROFANO MY BELOVED. I'm so in love with the Researcher just casually sitting on the tummy of Drider! Garofano's spider half, completely comfortable as she examines each one of Garofano's spider feet. Fun fact, did you know tarantulas have little paws? When you push a little on the tips, they splay out similar to cat paws. IMAGINE THE RESEARCHER PRESSING AGAINST GAROFANO'S TIPS AND WATCHING THEM SPLAY OUT. HER LITTLE PAWS AGJHSKHD--

And ofc, there's playing predator and prey with Garofano. I like to think that running from Garofano is a form of "exercise" to her now that she lives with the Researcher. As she no longer has to hunt for food on her own, Garofano keeps her body active by hunting you down in the wilderness to keep that predator instinct alive. It gives her such a rush and usually by the end of the chase, she excitedly ties you up and brings you back to her web to "reward" you for your efforts.

You really cooked with this ask, anon. You always do. You should totally make that writing blog, I encourage it <3

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Only had that one desire

A short, smutty fic set in the Undead Boy Detectives universe for Day 1 of @paynelandpromptfest. While this is part of a series, it can be read as a standalone. You can find it here on AO3 or read a snippet below!

Prompt: intimate

Rating: E

Warnings: this is just smut

Word count: 4K

Relationship: Payneland

Summary: Without the threat of damnation hanging over them, Edwin and Charles have time to explore their new relationship. And explore they do.

Excerpt:

“Find something, mate?” From his spot on the bed, Charles looks up from the book he’s been trying to focus on. They’ve been spending their day looking into the family curse stopping their latest client from moving on while Niko and Crystal are off looking into her surviving relatives.

Edwin sits at the desk, facing Charles with his fists pressed together in his lap. “I have been thinking about the other night.”

“The other night?”

“After the Postman came.” Edwin flushes.

“Oh.” Charles has also been thinking about the other night plenty himself. Every time he remembers the noises Edwin made, he has to find an excuse to go take a shower. “Everything alright? It wasn’t too much for you, was it?”

“No.” Edwin shakes his head, blush darkening. “It was very nice.”

Charles can’t help but preen a little. “Happy to do it again whenever.”

“That’s what I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Yeah?” Charles sits up a little straighter, intrigued.

“You may have noticed that I’m not… used to this.” Edwin squirms in his chair uncomfortably. “I never had an opportunity to explore this kind of thing the first time I was alive. It would have been unthinkable. But I’ve been reading some of Niko’s manga.”

Having gotten a few glimpses of Niko’s manga, Charles really likes the sound of that. “And, what’d you think, mate?”

“That I would very much like to…” Edwin gestures vaguely. “Shag, as you say.”

Charles can’t even tease him for the way he says “shag,” like it’s some kind of language he hasn’t learned yet, because he’s pretty sure his brain has stopped working.

“But I’m afraid I’ll need to work up to it.” Edwin looks away, face now the same color as Charles’s polo shirt. “Because I don’t have the faintest idea of what I’m doing.”

“That’s fine,” Charles says, forcing his brain to cooperate. “I’ve never been with a bloke before you, yeah? Don’t think I have much more of a clue what I’m doing than you do.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“It really is, Edwin. I’m pretty sure those books of Niko’s have taught you way more than I know right now. But we’ll figure it out together, won’t we? Just like we figure everything out together.” Charles grins. “But trust me, whenever you want to shag, I’m all yours. Just say the word.”

Edwin smiles a little shyly. “I suppose it’s just like ancient Aramaic. It will only take a bit of study.”

“Sure, mate, just like Ancient Aramaic.”

Read the rest here!

[blauerhund]

Pauls contribution to the Spy Museum Berlin

See: https://rammwiki.net/wiki/Spy_Museum_Berlin_(soundtrack)

I recently visited Berlin and wanted to check out the spy museum Paul did the music for, ze Deutsches Spionagemuseum, which is located at Potsdamer Platz. It's probably the last Rammstein related spot left that I've been wanting to check out in the city and I finally came about doing so in the one day I was there. The last time they unfortunately had a fire alarm going on, so I couldn't go in, but this time I succeeded!

I really ... I can't get myself to be interested in History Museums and the like, I don't know why. Maybe it's because my dad dragged us kids through every single castle, open air farm museum and medieval market South Germany had to offer at the time, resulting in the adverse effect of me, as an adult, feeling like I need to go sit down after having taken five steps into a Natural History Museum. I guess that means I'm satiated. Sometimes I visit art exhibitions though, but even those drain me so much, I just about run through them and am in a bad mood afterward. Have you heard of Museum Fatigue, because that's a real thing! Anyhow, that's why I made it my mission to walk through the spy museum looking only for the music bits playing. I spent about 10€ at the entrance and then walked in through something resembling a personnel sluice.

At first, I thought they had removed the music as I didn't hear any sounds at all for quite some time after going in, apart from some shooting noise coming from the one corner. However, on the second floor I made out a brawarahh and pushed past info screens, a real-life Trabi and spy standees trying to find out where the sound was coming from. I wanted to try recording some of it as well.

The speakers were put up high above, and I stood there looking like a complete nut holding one arm outstretched above my head pointing my phone at the ceiling. Luckily there weren't too many people there, but what does it matter to me, I was on my mission.

Ever since I had first heard about it, I've been wondering how Paul came about doing this. I guess the most likely explanation is him having a friend involved with the spy museum, asking him if he wanted to put a small part in or something similar. I think Paul is someone who would be happy contributing to a culturally significant occasion or institution, if he sees fit. As can be seen on his Instagram, he does like to look at attractions and things alike, and I imagine him being quite enthusiastic about doing so:

https://www.instagram.com/paullanders_official/p/B1gYv3hoByc/?hl=de&img_index=1

Look at the last picture – he has a good time. I think it's often the bunch consisting of him, Olli and Schneider out and about looking at local attractions and exploring the cities they play in. Jens tagging along from time to time :^)

The Spionagemuseum has quite a few things you can get hands on with, like solving small riddles or trying out a lie detector test. Or even making your way through a laser field! I, well, I just looked at it, but I can see Paul getting in there, rolling around on the floor. It's definitely a well produced exhibition!

They also showed footage of spy movies like Jason Bourne, Mission Impossible, James Bond and so on, with music playing next to it and, you know, I'm quite confident that one wasn't done by Herr Paul Landers, but just the original score. Although there is a song in the laser room where I was sure it was a movies soundtrack as well, but on the RammWiki page there is a song called "Laser Room" so it must be from Paul! Only goes to show his versatility :) Correct me in case I'm wrong and it's a film score after all.

At first, I wanted to include my recordings in this post, then I got a bit scared of violating copyright law, so I'm not gonna share them here (unless we have a German law expert on here telling me it would be fine?), but feel free to DM me. It's mostly eerie sounds, plus that one film score-like bit.

I think I feel rebellious enough for a little snippet though, so if you want to have a taste of Pauls soundtrack composer career, have a listen:

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #4 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: Taking up Seokjin's challenge to star in his cam show, you go shopping with him to prepare for that night. However, a run in with your ex boyfriend has you questioning your life decisions and revealing your past even more. Though Seokjin knows how to make you feel better, and thus, the blending of boundaries between you too gets even more convoluted. note: i wanted to wait to release this chapter a bit closer to Valentine's Day hehe so here it is! I'm working on Chapter 5 which I'll release sometime late this month or early next month and then I'll put this series on a bit of a break just to let the finale simmer. warnings: mild language, camboy! seokjin mode, protected s*x, blindfolds, Ghostface mask, ASMR sounds, grinding, n*pple play, breast play, f*ngering, multiple org*sm, cowgirl, pet names, kinda falling into a bit of a headspace from the org*sms, calling jin "daddy", big d*ck, d*ggystyle, body worship, voyeurism, dirty talk, implied adult content streaming (camming), pet names, brat! reader, brat tamer! seokjin, aftercare drop date: February 10th, 2024, 6:00pm pst word count: 7.8k crossposted on ao3 here <- chapter 3 | chapter 5 -> - -

The knock on your door is sharp but not obnoxiously loud. You groggily lift your head from the pillow, the warmth of your blankets beckoning you to stay put. Still, the persistent rhythm of Jin’s knocking refuses to be ignored.

“Y/N, wake up!” Jin’s voice carries through the door, bright and insistent.

You groan, tossing your blankets off and dragging yourself to the door. When you open it, Jin stands there, fully dressed and annoyingly cheery for such an early hour on a Saturday.

“What do you want?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

“Get dressed,” he says, grinning. “We’re going somewhere.”

You squint at him, trying to process his words through the haze of sleep. “Where are we going?”

He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking far too smug. “We’re getting you lingerie, maybe some toys and sunglasses.”

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, jolting you awake.

“Excuse me?!”

“Lingerie,” he repeats, his grin widening. “You know, for the cam stuff. And sunglasses—because no one’s seeing your face, right?”

Your mouth opens, then closes as you try to form a response. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at him, wide-eyed. “And the toys?” you finally manage to ask, your voice a mix of shock and embarrassment.

Jin shrugs nonchalantly. “Optional. But hey, might as well explore your options, right?”

You groan, already regretting your decision from last night. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you agreed to this,” he teases, pushing off the doorframe. “If you’re still down for this, then get ready. I’ll be downstairs waiting.”

As he turns to leave, you shut the door with a huff and lean back against it. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Still, there’s a strange excitement bubbling under your nerves. You pull yourself together, grabbing clothes and getting ready. If you’re doing this, you might as well dive in headfirst.

By the time you head downstairs, Jin is waiting for you, scrolling through his phone. When he sees you, he flashes you a grin.

“Ready to shop?” he asks, his tone annoyingly cheerful.

“Do I have a choice?” you mutter, earning a laugh from him as you both head out the door.

“You do, but I doubt your pride would let you not move forward with this.”

And damn it, he’s right.

The drive to wherever Jin is taking you isn’t particularly long, but it feels eternal. The radio is turned low, playing a mix of pop and indie songs, none of which Jin seems to fully know. He hums along anyway, confidently belting out half-formed lyrics, occasionally sneaking a glance at you with that same playful smirk you’ve grown to hate—and secretly enjoy.

When the car finally pulls into the parking lot of one of the city’s larger malls, your stomach drops. Jin parks near a side entrance, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the neon sign of Spencer’s.

Oh.

“This is where we’re going?” you ask, staring at the window display. Lace, satin, and an unholy number of novelty items are all proudly showcased under harsh fluorescent lighting.

“Of course,” Jin says, cutting the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Gotta start somewhere.”

He thought you'd be more comfortable here than the places he usually goes.

You groan, slouching deeper into your seat. “Why? It’s not like it’s gonna stay on for long, right?”

Jin rolls his eyes, opening his door with an exaggerated sigh. “Wow, such romantic enthusiasm. I’m telling you, the right outfit sets the mood and the audience loves it. Trust me, I’ve done my research.”

“On what? The art of taking it off?” you shoot back, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He grins as if you’d just handed him the best setup of his life. “Exactly, and it’s an art worth perfecting.”

You step out of the car reluctantly, trailing behind him as he leads the way into the mall. The early shoppers barely glance at the two of you, but you still feel like a giant spotlight is shining down on you.

When you reach the store, Jin holds the door open like he is leading you into a fine dining establishment. “After you, my princess.”

“Ugh, don’t start with that again,” you mutter, stepping past him.

Inside, the store was exactly what you expect—half risqué and half ridiculous. Racks of lingerie are set up alongside gag gifts and posters of bands you haven’t thought about since high school. Jin, however, looks like a kid in a candy store.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask, crossing your arms and watching him scan the store like he is devising a strategy.

He turns to you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “The plan is simple. Find something you like—or that I like—and we’ll see how it looks on you. Easy.”

Your jaw drops. “You want me to try stuff on?”

“Obviously.” Jin grabs a hanger with a delicate black lace set and holds it up for you to see. “We’re not just guessing here. This is serious business.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Jin just winks, already moving toward the next rack. “And yet, here you are, playing along. Now, do you prefer lace or satin?”

“I’m not trying anything on,” you declare, staring determinedly at the nearest rack. “I’ll pick one, and we can go.” Your eyes land on a pale pink lingerie set—delicate lace bralette with thin straps, paired with matching high-waisted panties edged with tiny satin bows. It’s soft and feminine, a stark contrast to anything you’d ever imagined yourself buying.

“How about this?” you ask, holding it up for Jin’s approval.

He steps closer, tilting his head to examine it like it’s a fine piece of art. “Hmm…” he muses, rubbing his chin dramatically. “Fine. Add these cat ears and tail, and we’re good.” He plucks a fuzzy black headband with cat ears and a ridiculous clip-on tail from the adjacent display rack, holding them out like he’s solved a puzzle.

You blink at him. “I—I’m not even going to ask.”

“Should we get one of these too?” Jin points toward another section, his grin growing mischievous. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s indicating: a realistic penis-like dildo on one shelf and a sleek, purple wand vibrator on another.

“Just pick one, and we can go!” you snap, your cheeks blazing.

Without hesitation, Jin grabs the vibrator, waving it triumphantly. “I’ll keep the other one in mind the next time we come by.”

You groan, muttering under your breath about his audacity as you head to the checkout counter. Jin pays without batting an eye, his casual demeanor doing nothing to ease the heat of your embarrassment.

On the way out of the mall, you both stop at a premium matcha stand. Jin orders two servings of soft-serve matcha ice cream, and you find a quiet spot near the fountain to sit and eat. The first bite of creamy, earthy sweetness is enough to calm your nerves slightly. Jin sits beside you with his steady and reassuring presence, though you can’t help but feel a flicker of unease lingering beneath the surface.

Jin keeps the conversation light. He teases you about your flustered reactions in the store, his laughter warm and infectious. You talk about food, what you’re craving for dinner, the list goes on. His easygoing nature is a balm to your frayed nerves, and you find yourself smiling despite the lingering unease in your chest. He’s always been like this, so good at making things feel fine, even when they’re not. And for a brief moment, you let yourself relax, even laugh. The sound surprises you—it’s been so long since you’ve laughed like this, freely and without reservation.

Things, for once, feel normal in your life. 

Or at least, they almost do. There’s a part of you that’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to disrupt this fragile peace. Just like the breakup and the layoff. You try to push the thought away, focusing instead on the way Jin’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his voice carries a playful lilt as he recounts a silly story. This is nice, you tell yourself. This is enough.

But it’s only when you finally feel a sense of some normalcy that you end up with a reminder of the past. 

When your eyes catch something. 

Something not unusual, but actually, someone familiar.

Him.

Out of all the malls in this damn city filled with millions of people, fate still tortures you by sending you that man to disturb your peace.

Out of all the malls in this damn city filled with millions of people, fate still tortures you by sending you that man to disturb your peace. The one who cheated on you—the man you’d given your heart to, only for him to shatter it like it meant nothing. You remember the day you found out: having just come over to Yunjin’s place for a small get-together. The way your friends hesitated to tell you, but did so anyway. How your stomach twisted as you scrolled through the incriminating messages and photos on his phone. The way your world seemed to tilt on its axis, everything you thought you knew crumbling around you. It’s a memory you’ve tried to bury, but seeing him now makes it all rush back like a tidal wave.

He’s with his friends you remember—Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong. They’re laughing, walking out of a nearby streetwear clothing store, and for a second, you think you might be safe. The fountain is kind of in the way from his perspective.

Maybe he won’t see you, you hope, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe you can just disappear into the background, unnoticed.

But as fate loves toying with you, the fountain cascades suddenly stop for a brief second and then his head turns, and his gaze locks onto yours.

Your stomach immediately plummets.

Panic sets in, sharp and suffocating. You quickly look away, pretending to focus on your ice cream, but your hand trembles slightly, the spoon digging into the soft-serve without lifting it. Your mind races with a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, embarrassment—threatening to overwhelm you. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him see how much this still affects you. But it’s too late. You can feel his eyes on you, and the weight of his gaze is suffocating.

“Hey, you okay?” Jin’s voice pulls you back, his tone laced with concern. You glance up to find him watching you carefully, his teasing smile replaced by a furrowed brow. His eyes are searching, trying to piece together what’s wrong, and for a moment, you consider telling him everything. But the words stick in your throat, and instead, you nod quickly, forcing a smile.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you manage to say, though your voice wavers. You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. Jin’s too perceptive, too attuned to your emotions, and he’s not buying it.

His eyes narrow slightly, following your gaze toward the group of guys, and the ex-boyfriend that follows a bit further behind them. His eyes narrow slightly, following your gaze toward the group of guys, and you can see the moment it clicks for him. His expression hardens, his jaw tightening as he notices how tense you’ve become. “Who’s that?” he asks, his tone lower, more serious.

“No one,” you lie, but it’s unconvincing even to your own ears. 

He’s already connected the dots, and it makes your chest tighten.

“Doesn’t look like no one.” Jin leans back in his seat, his casual demeanor masking the sharpness in his gaze. 

He seems to already connected the dots on who that is.

“Want me to do something about it?”

Huh? 

You glance at him, startled. “What? No!”

Is he insinuating he’ll go confront them? Fight them? Absolutely not.

The worst thing that could happen is causing a scene.

He shrugs, taking another bite of his ice cream. “Just saying. I can be pretty convincing when I want to be.”

Wait, is he implying he wants to pretend to be your fake new boyfriend in front of your ex? The idea is so absurd, so Jin, that despite everything, a small, bitter laugh escapes you.

“What!” you exclaim, shaking your head. “You’re seriously unbelievable, Seokjin.”

“Yeah, but you’re stuck sitting here with me right now. He’ll believe it if he sees you’ve moved on,” he says lightly, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s serious about one thing—he’s not about to let anyone ruin your day.

And he somehow already seemed to catch on that it’s your ex, which fuels his eagerness to help you even more.

"Let’s just go home," you mutter, your voice tight as you stand, grabbing Jin’s hand before he can say another word. Without waiting for a response, you tug him along, weaving through the bustling mall.

Jin doesn’t protest. His long strides easily match your pace, though you can feel the curious weight of his gaze on you as you march ahead. The warmth of his hand in yours feels grounding, even as your heart races from the encounter you’re desperately trying to shake off.

Once outside, the cool air hits your face, but it does little to quell the heat in your chest. You loosen your grip slightly but don’t let go entirely until you enter the car.

Jin finally breaks the silence as you both slide into your seats. “So…care to tell me what that was about?” His tone is light but probing, a stark contrast to the tension swirling around you.

You fiddle with your seatbelt, avoiding his eyes. “It’s really nothing to care about. I just didn’t feel like being there anymore.”

Jin obviously doesn’t buy it, and you know it. He’s stuck wondering what the hell was all that inside the mall.

He leans back in his seat, studying you with an expression that’s a mix of patience and persistence. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure dragged me out of there like the mall was on fire.”

“It’s complicated, okay?”

He raises a brow, clearly waiting for you to elaborate further.

You finally glance at him, your voice softer now. “That guy, the one I was looking at…he’s my ex. The one who cheated on me.”

Jin’s expression darkens immediately. His jaw tightens, and his easy going demeanor vanishes in an instant. “I figured, but that’s the asshole?”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

For a moment, Jin doesn’t say anything, but the way his hands grip the edge of his seat tells you he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You should’ve really said something earlier,” he mutters, his voice low. “I would’ve—”

“Would’ve what?” you cut him off, forcing a small smile. “Made a scene in the middle of the mall?”

“If it meant putting him in his place, yeah,” Jin says firmly. “I hate people who cheat on their significant others. No one gets to hurt you like that and walk around like nothing happened.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a second, you just stare at him. The fire in his eyes, the way his fists are clenched like he’s ready to fight—it's so uncharacteristic of him, but it’s also oddly comforting.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning your head back against the headrest. “You’re really something, Jin. I am not going to send you out to battle him. I don’t even think you have it in you to actually throw hands.”

“Hey! I actually do. Plus we’re friends, so I’d fight for you whether or not I was an experienced black belt!” he retorts, his usual teasing tone creeping back in.

The tension in the car eases slightly, and Jin starts the engine. As Jin pulls out of the parking lot, he glances at you again.

“For what it’s worth, he doesn’t deserve a second of your thoughts.”

You nod, biting your lip. Deep down, you know he’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to let go of the past—or the way your heart still aches when you see that man.

“Thanks, Jin,” you say quietly, and for once, he doesn’t reply with a joke. Instead, he just reaches over and squeezes your hand, his silent support speaking louder than words. “Let’s just forget this shit even happened.”

In the late evening, you stand in front of your bedroom mirror, adjusting the pink lingerie you picked out earlier. The delicate lace clings to your curves, and the satin ribbon at the bust feels both alluring and slightly foreign against your skin. You tug at the hem, trying to feel less exposed, but there’s no denying you look good.

The memory of seeing your ex at the mall lingers, an unwelcome weight in the back of your mind. But you shake your head, willing yourself to push it aside. This is about moving on, you remind yourself. Tonight is an opportunity to let go of that baggage—to embrace something different, something new.

Just as you’re finishing, Jin knocks on your door.

“You ready?” His voice carries through, casual and tinged with amusement.

Opening the door slightly, you peek out, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, but I just realized I forgot to buy sunglasses...”

He grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No worries. I’ve got a solution.”

You raise a brow, suspicious. “What kind of solution?”

Jin steps back, revealing a folded black blindfold in his hand. “You’ll wear this,” he explains with a mischievous smirk, holding it up like he’s offering a priceless artifact.

You blink. “And what about you?”

He reaches behind his back, pulling out a white Ghostface mask with exaggerated, hollowed-out eyes. “This bad boy right here.”

The sight of it makes you laugh despite yourself. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack,” he says, slipping the mask over his head to demonstrate. His voice comes out slightly muffled, but the effect is as ridiculous as you’d expect. “See? Anonymity secured.”

You cover your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter. “Okay, okay, fine. Let’s do this.”

“Good. Now put this on,” Jin says, handing you the blindfold.

You take it, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement bubble in your chest. “You know, this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever agreed to.”

Jin tilts his head, the mask amplifying the humor in his movements. “And yet here you are, willingly about to do it with a guy wearing a Ghostface mask. Makes you wonder, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you tie the blindfold securely around your head, the world plunging into darkness. “Just don’t let me trip and fall on the way to your room, okay?”

“Alright, Princess,” Jin says, his tone teasing but soft. “I’ve got you.”

The stream begins, the faint hum of Jin’s microphone blending with the soft, ambient music he always uses to set the mood. The chat is already alive, comments flooding the screen with excitement and curiosity about the unexpected collaboration. Jin adjusts the camera slightly, making sure the angle is just right, then sits back on the plush chair.

“Alright, everyone,” his voice is smooth and playful, the confident persona of BigTunaMan in full swing. “Tonight’s stream is... a little different.”

The chat erupts in a frenzy: “Collab?!”“Who’s the guest?!”“OMG, BigTuna never does collabs!”

Jin chuckles, leaning forward to read some of the comments. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t usually do this, but let’s call it an experiment. Be nice, alright? I’d like to introduce you all to Princess Peach—well, just Princess for short.”

You fidget nervously, sitting just out of frame, your blindfold securely in place. Hearing his voice take on that teasing tone meant for his audience is surreal. The anonymity offered by the blindfold feels like a small comfort, but you’re acutely aware of the way the lace lingerie hugs your body. “Say hi, Princess,” Jin says, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

You manage a small wave in the general direction of the camera. “H-Hi...”

The chat explodes: “OMG she’s shy!”“Princess Peach for real!”“Is she wearing pink?!”

“She’s still warming up to this whole thing,” Jin says, his tone affectionate, like he’s easing a shy partner into a dance. “So be patient with her.”

He taps your hand lightly, signaling for you to move. “Now, Princess, come here,” he says, patting his lap. “You’re gonna sit right here, facing the camera.”

You hesitate for a moment, your breath catching. But then you remember why you’re doing this—to move on, to try something bold and different, to make some money out of this.

And also, because this is a challenge started by Seokjin. 

You can’t lose.

You carefully maneuver onto his lap with his help. Your body tenses as you adjust yourself, facing the camera as he instructed.

“That’s it,” Jin murmurs, his hands lightly settling on your hips to steady you. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, but you stay composed. “Comfortable?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, though your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

He leans closer, his masked face just beside your ear, and the audience catches the subtle intimacy of the moment. “Relax,” he says softly, but with a playful edge meant for his viewers. “You’re doing great, Princess.”

The chat goes wild: “This is SO hot.”“She’s adorable omg.”“BigTuna spoiling us fr.”

Jin tilts his head slightly, addressing the camera with his usual charisma. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started.” His hands stay on your hips, his touch firm but not overbearing. He pauses to let the tension build, letting the audience bask in the new dynamic unfolding before them.

His hands begin to move tentatively, his palms brushing against the thin lace covering your chest. His touch is measured, deliberate, as if testing both your comfort and his own. You can feel the hesitation in his movements, though there’s a hint of determination beneath it. Your breath catches as his fingers trace along the edge of the fabric, the warmth of his hands seeping into your skin. You shift slightly in his lap, feeling vulnerable in the moment by the fact that you’re in front of a camera. 

Though you can’t see the audience through the blindfold.

A split second makes you question what are you even doing as this all feels so jarring. 

Maybe it’s the nerves and exhilaration talking since you’ve never done anything like this before. 

The faint hum of the stream setup, the occasional sound of Jin chuckling at comments while touching you all over—it all feels surreal. 

Yet, there’s a strange thrill in feeling the pleasure and knowing you’re putting on a show, even if your face is hidden.

“You’re doing great,” Jin murmurs, his voice low and velvety, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. His hands grow bolder, cupping your breasts fully now, his thumbs brushing over the peaks through the fabric.

A soft sound escapes your lips before you can stop it, and your cheeks burn beneath the blindfold. You try to stifle the noise, but Jin’s hands don’t falter. If anything, he seems encouraged.

“Princess,” he says softly, a teasing edge to his tone. “I’m reading the chat, and I think the audience likes you already.”

The chat explodes with responses: “Ahhh she’s perfect omg.”“Her sounds are so hot....”“I want them both”“BigTuna really hit the jackpot!”

You swallow hard, your mind racing. 

They’re watching. They’re really watching. 

The thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a wave of heat through your body. You try to focus on Jin’s hands, on the way he touches you. It’s oddly... comforting, like he’s touching something delicate with so much care.

“Relax,” Jin whispers, leaning closer so his breath brushes your ear. “You’re doing better than I thought you would.”

“Better than you thought?” you mumble, your voice shaking with a mix of nervousness and teasing defiance.

Jin chuckles, his hands continuing their slow, deliberate movements. “Yeah, you’re playing the role perfectly. Such a good princess.”

The praise sends another jolt through you, and you can’t help but arch slightly into his touch, the tension in your body loosening bit by bit.

Maybe you can do this.

Oh?

You surprise yourself with the realization. 

Maybe this isn’t as terrifying as you thought.

Your sounds become less restrained, the initial shyness giving way to something more natural. You can feel Jin relaxing too, his hands moving with more confidence now, as though he’s settling into a rhythm.

“See?” Jin says softly, his lips close to your ear. “You’re feeling more comfortable now, aren’t you.”

The words make your heart race, but they also spark something else: a sense of pride. You tilt your head slightly, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re embarrassing me,”

“Really, now?”

Jin’s hands glide down your sides, his touch firm yet gentle as he finds their place on your hips. You feel his grip tighten slightly, steadying you as he guides your legs apart. The cool air kisses your exposed skin, amplifying the sensation and making you hyper-aware of every single movement.

“A-Ah!”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, meant more for you than the stream. The chat goes wild, flooding the screen with reactions.

Jin shifts his position slightly, leaning in closer, and his hand drifts between your thighs. His fingertips brush lightly over the delicate fabric of your lace panties, and the teasing touch alone sends a shiver up your spine. Then, he presses against your clit through the fabric, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

Your body reacts instinctively, a mix of retreating from the sudden surge of pleasure and seeking it out again. Your hips jerk slightly, causing you to grind against his hand and inadvertently press back against him. The dual sensations overwhelm you, pulling a soft whimper from your lips.

“It’s okay,” Jin whispers, his voice soothing yet commanding. “Just let me take care of you.”

He hooks a finger around the side of your panties, sliding the lace to the side and exposing your slick heat to him and the virtual audience watching you two. For a moment, he hesitates, his hand hovering as if savoring the anticipation. Then, with agonizing slowness, he slides two fingers into your warmth.

“O-Oh.. fuck…”

The stretch is perfect, his fingers curling slightly to find that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back against his shoulder as your breath catches, a low moan escaping your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he mutters, just loud enough for the mic to pick up. 

The chat explodes again: “OMG, BigTuna has skills.”“I want to be the Princess pls”“Fuck, this is getting to me!!”

His fingers move expertly, curling and scissoring as he works you open, his thumb pressing against your clit in tandem with his movements. The combination is overwhelming, the pleasure building in waves that make it impossible to think straight.

Your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his hand as your body chases the release it so desperately needs. Jin leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he breathes. “So responsive... I could do this to you all night.”

Your hands grip his thighs for support, your nails digging into him as you try to ground yourself. The sounds of your moans, the wet noises of his fingers moving inside you, and Jin’s whispered praises fill the room, creating a symphony of raw intimacy.

The blindfold amplifies every sensation, the lack of sight sharpening the sensitivity of your other senses. Jin’s fingers, already skilled, now feel like they’re working magic, their unique shape brushing and curling against spots inside you that send electric currents coursing through your entire body. The added vulnerability, the warmth of his chest against your back, and his deliberate, practiced movements have you teetering on the edge of control.

You feel yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling in his grasp. Jin’s voice cuts through the haze, low and commanding. “That’s it, Princess. Let go for me. Let them see how good you are.” When Jin's low, commanding voice cuts through the fog, telling you to let go, it feels like a trigger being pulled. Your body reacts instinctively, trembling as waves of ecstasy wash over you. 

“Aah!”

You come undone, the climax hitting so hard and fast that it leaves you breathless. A gush escapes, but thankfully it doesn't spray, leaving just a warm mess against Jin’s hand and thighs.

“Holy shit,” Jin murmurs, his tone laced with awe and something darker. Though you can’t see his face, his voice alone tells you everything—the surprise, the admiration, the growing hunger as he processes what just happened. His fingers slowly withdraw, leaving you quivering, and now, feeling like jelly against his body.

“Can you move?” he asks softly, though there’s an urgency in his voice.

You can only manage a shaky breath, your legs trembling too much to respond coherently. Jin takes control, his hands firm yet gentle as he carefully lifts you. Your knees barely hold steady as he positions you so that you’re standing, hovering over him now.

“Stay still for me,” he instructs, his tone both soft and commanding. You feel the heat of his hands sliding to your waist, grounding you even as your body feels unsteady from the aftershocks.

From beneath you, you hear the rustle of fabric as Jin pushes his sweatpants down. The sound of his waistband snapping free is accompanied by the subtle shuffle of movement. Then, you hear him exhale sharply as he frees himself, his arousal now fully evident.

You can’t see it, but the moment he positions himself beneath you, the anticipation skyrockets. The blindfold robs you of sight but heightens the sound of every shift, every breath, and every movement, leaving you entirely attuned to him.

Jin grabs the condom from the table, his movements methodical as he tears the wrapper and rolls it on with practiced ease. The slight sound of latex stretching sends a shiver through you, anticipation building with every second.

“I’m going to enter you gently,” he says, his voice low and steady, though you can hear a thread of tension beneath it. “And I’ll help you bounce once you’re ready. Just listen to me, okay?”

His words alone send a pulse of excitement through you, your walls clenching in response. You nod, your voice caught somewhere in your throat as your breathing quickens.

With one hand bracing your hip and the other holding himself at your entrance, Jin begins to guide you down slowly. The stretch is immediate, and you gasp as the thick head of his cock presses inside, sending a mix of pleasure and pain rippling through you.

“A-ah, daddy,” you whimper, gripping his shoulders for support.

Wait, daddy?! Where did this come from?! Why is your brain saying this!

Despite the second of internal panic, however, Jin likes this. It’s riling him up.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pausing to let you adjust before easing in deeper. Inch by inch, he fills you, his size forcing you to take your time. The sensation is overwhelming, your walls fluttering and gripping him tightly as he pushes further.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jin says, his voice filled with awe. He groans softly, his fingers gripping your waist tighter. “Damn, you’re so tight. I bet everyone watching wishes they were you right now.”

His words send a jolt through you, and your cheeks burn with both embarrassment and arousal. Somewhere in the haze of sensation, you hear Jin addressing his audience.

“Don’t be shy,” he says, his tone teasing. “My loves watching, have some fun while you watch us. You know you want to.”

Before you can process his words, Jin begins to move, rocking his hips gently upward as he helps you settle onto him fully. The stretch burns for a moment, but the heat of his cock filling you so completely makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“H-Hah… oh my god,” you moan, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” Jin whispers, his hands guiding your hips to rise and fall slowly.

“Mmn… Daddy, you’re so—ah—big. It’s too much,” you cry out, your voice breaking into soft whimpers as he starts thrusting deeper.

He starts slow, his hips rolling upward with a deliberate rhythm, but the drag of his cock along your walls sends shockwaves through you. Each thrust feels like it’s reaching a spot inside you that you didn’t know existed.

Spots that were never touched by Mingi.

“F-Fuck, daddy! Oh, oh god—ahh!” you gasp, your nails digging into his skin.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his pace quickening slightly. “So warm and tight. Perfect.”

The way his hands guide your hips while his cock stretches and fills you is almost too much. Your body moves instinctively, grinding down against him as his thrusts grow more powerful, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

“Ah! Daddy—please—ohh!” you cry, your voice trembling as he hits deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice dark with arousal. “Keep making those sounds for me. Let them all know how good I’m making you feel.”

His hips snap up harder, the force of each thrust making your body jolt against him. The wet sounds of your connection fill the room, and your moans grow louder, more desperate, as he drives you closer to the edge.

Jin’s thrusts grow increasingly intense, your chest bouncing with each movement. The sensation is overwhelming, but it heightens when his hands leave your hips and slide upward. His fingers hook under the fabric of your bra, tugging it down to expose your chest fully.

A sharp intake of breath escapes you as his warm hands cup your breasts, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. His thumbs flick over your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

“Look at you,” Jin murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “You’re perfect.”

His pace doesn’t falter as he fondles your chest, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers. The dual sensation of his cock pounding into you and his hands on your chest drives you closer to the edge.

“Ahh—daddy! I—I can’t… I’m—!” you cry out, your head tilting back as the coil inside you snaps.

Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, your walls clenching tightly around him as your cries fill the room. Jin groans loudly, feeling your release ripple through you, his movements stuttering momentarily to let you ride out the intense pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “You’re incredible.”

You collapse slightly against him, panting as you try to catch your breath. Jin doesn’t move for a moment, letting you recover. Then, with a satisfied grin, he gently pulls out and moves the camera, angling it toward his bed.

“Let’s change things up,” he says softly, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

He carries you to the bed, placing you down with care before his tone shifts, commanding and firm.

“Get on all fours,” he instructs.

Your heart pounds as you comply, positioning yourself on your hands and knees with your face turned toward the camera. The vulnerability sends a thrill through you, but there’s little time to dwell on it.

Jin climbs onto the bed behind you, his presence dominating. Without warning, he slides himself back into your slick heat, making you gasp loudly.

“A-ah! Fuck me!” you cry out, the sudden intrusion catching you off guard.

His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as he thrusts forward, deeper this time. One hand slides up your back, pressing down on the middle of your spine and forcing you to arch further. Your face is pressed into the mattress, your muffled moans filling the air.

“You didn’t expect this, did you?” Jin says, his tone dripping with smugness. “Didn’t think I could be rough?”

The pace he sets is relentless, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The angle leaves you utterly exposed and vulnerable, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides any hesitations.

“F-Fuck! Daddy—ahh! S-So deep—!” you manage to choke out, your voice muffled against the sheets.

“You look so good like this,” he groans, his hand coming down to slap your ass lightly before gripping it firmly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

The intensity builds with each thrust, your body melting under his control, completely at his mercy.

Your thoughts are a whirlwind of overwhelming sensations and emotions, a chaotic mix of pleasure, disbelief, and curiosity. Every thrust Jin delivers sends shockwaves through your body, the rhythm pulling you deeper into a state of raw, unfiltered lust. You can feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you, hitting spots that make your mind blur and your body tremble.

Your blindfold is a frustrating barrier, heightening every sensation yet leaving you longing to see what’s happening around you. How hot must this look, you wonder, your body arched perfectly, Jin’s strong hands guiding you like he owns every part of you. You ache to see his face, the concentration and lust in his expression as he moves behind you.

The thought only makes the knot in your stomach tighten, and you moan loudly, muffled against the mattress. You feel yourself unraveling, completely lost in the moment, and you’re not sure whether you’ll ever fully come back from this.

Jin’s steady rhythm falters slightly, and you hear the faint click of his mouse, followed by the low rumble of his voice. “Let’s see what they’re saying…”

He doesn’t stop moving as he leans slightly, keeping his pace just firm enough to keep you gasping and writhing under him. “Oh,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then, louder, with a tinge of embarrassment, he reads, “‘Choke her <3.’”

The words send a jolt through your entire body, and you involuntarily tighten around him.

“Fuck,” Jin groans, his hand squeezing your hip. “Did that turn you on?”

You bite your lip, feeling a flush spread across your face, but you don’t deny it. Jin chuckles, low and dark, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Princess,” he says, his tone dripping with authority, “are you open to their suggestion?”

You nod instinctively, but his grip on your hip tightens. “Words, Princess.”

“Yes,” you gasp out, your voice shaky but desperate. “Yes, you can.”

The next moment, his hand leaves your hip and slides upward, grazing the curve of your back before settling gently around your throat. His fingers press lightly, testing your reaction, and when you whimper in approval, he tightens his grip just enough to make your head spin.

“That’s my good girl,” Jin murmurs, his thrusts resuming their relentless pace. “You like this, don’t you? You like doing what I say, being my perfect little plaything.”

You can’t even form words anymore, reduced to broken cries and breathless gasps as he drives you further into madness. The combination of his hand around your throat and his thick cock pounding into you sends your senses into overdrive, the blindfold making everything feel even more intense.

You’re completely undone, your body and mind lost to him, and the realization of how far you’ve fallen only makes the experience hotter.

“Fuck!”

Your entire body trembles as the overwhelming release takes hold of you, leaving you gasping and utterly spent. The wet sound of your release hitting the sheets makes Jin pause for a moment, his thrusts moving out of rhythm as he processes what just happened. His hands remain on your hips, steadying you, but you can feel the tension in his body as he takes it all in.

“Holy shit,” Jin murmurs, his voice low and almost awed. His eyes widen slightly as he glances down at the evidence of your pleasure soaking into his sheets. It’s this sight that get him to reach orgasm, coming inside you, or rather the condom that wraps around his cock.

He releases your throat gently and slides out of you, leaving you gasping for air as your body collapses fully onto the bed. Your muscles feel like jelly, your limbs heavy as if they don’t belong to you anymore. How long has this been going on? An hour? Longer? 

How long do these streams even last?

You’ve never been pushed this far before during sex. It’s intoxicating and terrifying at the same time.

The blindfold robs you of all sense of time, and the relentless pace of Jin’s movements has left your mind foggy. 

The thought flickers briefly before being lost in the haze of exhaustion.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and something darker, “I didn’t know you had this in you, Princess.”

Jin chuckles softly, his fingers trailing lightly down your back as he speaks. “Tired already, Princess?”

You manage to turn your head slightly, your face flushed as you retort, “Not tired, just... letting you catch up.”

He laughs, a low, teasing sound that makes your skin prickle. “Being such a brat won’t get you anywhere, you know.”

You feel the bed shift as he leans over you, his voice dropping to a silky whisper. “Or maybe you like being put in your place. Is that it? You want me to remind you who’s in charge here?”

You shiver at his words, the teasing edge in his tone sending another jolt through your exhausted body. Jin pauses, and you hear the faint hum of the monitor catching his attention.

“They’re loving you,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Look at this.”

You can’t see the comments, but you can hear the pride in his voice, the way he’s reveling in the reactions pouring in. It’s a strange feeling, knowing so many people are watching you like this, but instead of embarrassment, it fills you with a strange thrill.

Why must you be so competitive..

Because really.. what did you just yourself into?

Feeling the ecstasy and adrenaline rush from this, you’ve come to understand why Jin does this on the side and the desire to keep doing it.

A perfect way to escape.

After about 3 hours of fucking and some 15-20 minute breaks, Jin lets out a deep sigh, his body still pressed against yours as he comes down from his own high. The sounds of the stream linger in the background—soft chimes of tips rolling in, the occasional comment filtering through the speakers—but all of it fades into a dull hum as the reality of exhaustion settles over you.

After a moment, he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow as he glances at the monitor. A lazy smirk tugs at his lips as he takes in the flood of comments still rolling in. “You all enjoyed that, didn’t you?” His voice is thick with satisfaction, a trace of smug amusement lingering as he reads a few messages aloud.

He exhales sharply, then runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair before reaching for the keyboard. “Well, that’s it for tonight, lovelies,” he purrs, his tone slipping back into that smooth, controlled confidence he carries so well on camera. “Make sure to show your appreciation, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll give you another show soon.” His fingers tap a few final commands, shutting off the chat before he leans back, stretching his sore muscles.

With a final smirk toward the now-dark screen, he powers down the stream and turns his attention back to you.

Slowly, Jin pulls off the condom and ties it off before tossing it into the trash. His touch is uncharacteristically gentle as he shifts your limp body onto your back, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “You with me, Princess?” His voice is softer now, lacking the teasing edge from earlier.

You hum in response, barely able to lift your heavy eyelids. Your body is completely spent, limbs sprawled across his luxurious sheets, your skin sticky with sweat and the remnants of your shared pleasure.

Jin chuckles, but there’s warmth in it now, not mockery. “Damn, I really wore you out, huh?” His fingers trace absent patterns along your arm, grounding you as you try to steady your breathing.

Without another word, he moves off the bed, and you hear the sound of a faucet running. A few moments later, he returns with a warm washcloth, the bed dipping as he kneels beside you. “Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You flinch slightly as the warm cloth makes contact with your overly sensitive skin, but Jin is patient, taking his time to clean between your thighs with slow, careful strokes. The tenderness in his actions is unexpected but not unwelcome, it soothes something raw inside you, something you didn’t realize needed tending to.

Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth into the hamper and grabs a nearby hoodie, slipping it over your head before helping you slide your arms through the sleeves. The fabric smells like him—clean, warm, safe.

Jin lies down beside you, pulling you against his chest as he reaches for his phone. With one final glance at the chat, he ends the stream, letting the screen go dark. The quiet that follows feels heavy but comforting, a stark contrast to the past three hours of intensity.

“You did good,” he murmurs, fingers stroking lazily through your hair. “More than good.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling into his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His fingers continue their slow movements, absentminded but soothing. There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, his voice quieter this time. “Did you like it? Doing this?”

Your body is still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, exhaustion weighing down your limbs, but there’s no hesitation in your answer. “Mm, I loved it. Felt so good.” You stretch slightly against him, a lazy, satisfied smile on your lips before your curiosity gets the best of you. “How much money did we make?”

Jin chuckles, the vibration of his laughter rumbling against your back. “Always thinking ahead, huh?” He reaches for his phone, checking the final numbers before letting out a low whistle. “More than I expected. You really put on a show.”

His words send a thrill through you, though your exhaustion keeps you from reacting much beyond a smug little hum.

Jin shifts slightly, pulling the blanket up over you both. “Get some rest. I’ll order us breakfast when you wake up.”

The last thing you register before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of Jin’s breathing and the unfamiliar but oddly comforting feeling of being held.

-

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a/n: hehe oops, it's been taking me some time to upload because once again, i have start a new temp job. i hope you guys are liking this story so far and HAPPY EARLY VALENTINE'S DAY HEHE ❤️ ! we have 2 more chapters to go! the next chapter will be a bit smutty, but remember!! there is PLOT!!! and some angst involved but hey! we will get a good ending!! somehow... maybe... Aside from the next chapter, I will take a break from this series to 1) let it make it's rounds and find more audience interested (because engagement and interaction feels nice to read back as a writer!) 2) focus on another fic series because after all the crazy shit i added to chapter 5, i need my interest to recharge for the final chapter and plus i want to get other series moving and planned. i hope you all stick with me until the very end (which will be sometime later this year hehe). thank you all!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[soulidarity]

Heyy can I pls request another hurt comfort rafayel x reader fic where you go out with him and he tries to play it cool but he’s having a really hard time with his condition and he’s dizzy/nauseous and struggling to see clearly so he needs you to help him. I love that you’re willing to explore this more it’s so :’)

hiding

out on a date at an amusement park, rafayel has a hard time keeping up

rafayel was a smart man, he thought. by presenting this persona of the whiny, princessy artist, his pain got disguised as a simple tantrum, causing the hunter to just roll her eyes the few times hed make a comment.

he wasn't sure if he wanted her to take him seriously or not. he didnt want pity, he didnt want to stip the date, he didn't want to dissapoint her. he did want to rest.

the artist was proud of himself, they had been in the amusement park for a couple of hours now and he had managed to only jokingly complain three times, playing it off. but now he was facing his mortal enemy.

the teacup ride.

resting against the railing that signaled the queue to the ride, rafayel held his head. apart from his usual leg pain, he was really dizzy. he'd manage to survive the few rollercoasters they'd had gone on, she knew he was afraid of heights so they hadn't gone on any extreme ones.

"you're quiet today, all good?" she asked, mid chewing a churro

he faked a smile, his usual one. "puh-lease cutie, how could i be not good when im with you" he gave her a peck on the cheek "just a bit embarrassed that most people in line are, like, children"

"there are some other young couples in line, dont be shy!" she offered him a bite of the treat, he waved his hand in refusal "i havent gone on this ride since I was a kid with my grandma, I'm so excited"

oh that was just great. the ride had sentimental value. now he HAD to get on.

"you look so adorable when you're excited, cutie"

it took another ten minutes before they got on. he gripped the steering wheel, noticing his shaking hands. shit. maybe he should've eaten the churro, but now it was to late, hed definitely puke it out and mc had already finished it before getting on.

with a loud countdown that hurt his head more than he'd like to admit, the ride started spinning. mc smiling at him as she spun the cup with all her might, a few seconds later she must have noticed rafayels dreadful gaze, slowing the cup down a bit. he could feel her staring as he gripped the side handles. was his façade borken? he couldn't have resisted the one minute the ride lasted? was he that pathetic?

his vision started getting blurry, the familiar white spot aura filling his vision. the tingling sensasion on his legs warning him of the pain that was coming.

the ride ended, she got off before him, offering her hand. maybe out of worry, maybe out od affection or maybe both. he appreciated that it looked just like a normal situation between boyfriend and girlfriend.

he took her hand and went to stand.

pop.

there went his left knee.

a frown was shown on his face, he couldn't fake it anymore. he struggled to straighten his leg to get up. he started panicking. why couldn't he do it? he needed to hurry or she'd start questioning. were they the last people on the ride? he needed to hurry before the ride operator started to pester them. sweat started forming. he could feel mc's grip tighten but, where was she? his vision spotty, not able of making out exactly where everything was.

he felt a familiar arm on his back, then another on the back of his knees. did mc just... pick him up in front of all these people? can fishes die from sunlight? because thats what hed hope would happen as he felt it when they left the shadowed area of the attraction.

he closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her neck.

"i got you rafayel, hold on just a bit more."

he felt himself being laid down on a bench, the sounds of the park being drowned out. was his hearing also betraying him or had she ran extremely fast to an unoccupied area?

"im gonna lift your pants up to your knees to check if its inflamed, okay?"

her voice sounded as sweet and clear as ever, so no, his hearing wasn't bad. a win he'd happily take.

"rafayel, your knee is definitely injured. why didnt you tell me anything?"

he just grunted, maybe if he ignored everything he could play it off better.

"yel... please... look at me"

he opened his eyes, blinking aggressively to try to get the white spots to leave, but even in between them, he could make out the worried expression on her face

"you were so excited..."

"and you were in pain! when did you start feeling bad"

"well, my knee always hurts, but it started hurting more by the second ride we got on. standing for so long in the queues messes me up a bit. then i started getting dizzy and by the time the teacups were done i had lost a bit of my vision, pretty sure i have a migraine too because god did that annoying music hurt my brain."

"have you ever gone to the doctor? has this happened before?"

he scoffed, "go for what? im fine. and i have gone before, its genetic, has no cure. i can fix my legs a bit with exercise but it hurts to do it, and i spend so much time painting that i honestly forget about it. ive had an mri, the spots and dizziness aren't cause by a tumor, they cant figure our a main cause apart from me staying up in the darkness painting and stress." he sighed "i didnt want to ruin our date with this because im just learning to live with it, today is just a bad day, i can usually handle this."

she looked serious, looking him up and down before turning around and squatting in front of the bench

"get on my back?"

"wh- wha- mc! I'm fine! I can walk"

"I know, but cant i carry my lovely boyfriend?"

rafayel reluctantly got on, he felt a bit embarrassed but at this point, whats he got to lose. he hid his face on her shoulder.

after a few minutes they sat down at a cafe, it was nicely decorated but not a lot of people were there.

"ill get you something to eat, then we're gonna discuss this."

as soon as she left, he slumped into the chair. this was not how he wanted the day to go.

soon after, she came back with a pastry and a milkshake, dropping them off infront of him before sitting down "alright, so what do you want me to do?"

"excuse me?"

"how do you want me to react, how do I help you and when do you rather i leave you alone"

rafayel thought for a bit "i guess, i dont want you to leave, first of all. but dont treat me like im weak, dont pity me... ill try to be more honest about how im feeling so we can take it slow, but i dont want this to change how we hang out, i like what we do. its just... my body being stupid"

she held his hand "its not stupid, things happen. i have my fair amount of medical issues and you know that. do you think im weak because of my heart disease?" rafayel shook his head "see! its not weakness, its just a hurdle, but it shows we can deal with a lot more stuff and it'll take a lot more to bri g us down"

rafayel chuckled "thats corny..."

"yeah well i learnt it from my grandma so be respectful young man!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

as soon as i got this request, my brain started giving me a hundred ideas. i landed on this one, but maybe another time if youd like i could explore more of rafayel letting mc help him with his vision and nausea stuff since shed now know about his condition.

once again, this is heavily projecting because i have similar medical issues so i write from my experience, these types of medical conditions can vary a lot from person to person. im not saying the diagnosis on purpose, so that more people can feel represented. most of the symptoms are related to things he has in canon

[emmaaxomarie]

「 ✦ missionary ✦ 」

from a request i received ⟡

nikki sixx x female reader

feeling the crimson silk sheets hit your skin, the classic red shade that seems to follow you around in nikki's home. he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, admiring every single detail from head to toe, as you laid perfectly underneath him. your soft locks dancing across the pillows.

dragging his callused fingers across your arms, down to your side. his necklaces falling right in front of your face as nikki positioned himself, hovering on top of your delicate frame. a wicked smirk appearing on his lips as his dominant demeanor began to unfold, coming in full effect.

you look so innocent baby girl, spread your legs for me.

the way nikki was speaking to you only made you overwhelmingly more timid, feeling so many things at once, heat and need. before your body could respond back, nikki brought his hand to your face, gently smacking your cheek.

little girl, i wasn't asking you, spread your fucking legs.

the vibration from the smack taking you off guard, the sting from it causing you to bite down on your bottom lip. it was as if you lost the ability to talk. nikki didn't like that, he wanted, needed to hear how desperate you are for him. tilting his head slightly, observing your reactions, nikki let out a low growl, absolutely loving just how submissive he was making you.

he couldn't take it anymore as nikki forced your legs apart, using his strength to his advantage. hearing you release a sudden moan, a whorish moan, drove him mad.

baby if you don't start listening to me, i might just have to fuck the obedience out of you, be my good girl and listen to daddy, okay?

nodding your head yes, nikki tsked at you, shaking his head in the process,

use your words darling, let daddy hear how much of a slut you are for me. say "yes daddy, im such a dirty slut for you."

looking up at nikki, your eyes starting to water up a bit, his dirty talk making you so worked up, you almost started to cry. taking a deep breath, trying to gain some composure to talk but your voice still coming out a shaky mess,

y-yes d-daddy, i'm such- a-a dirty s-slut for y-you.

your voice bringing nikki right to the edge, he couldn't wait anymore, wasting no more time, sliding right in between your legs. his groan sounding primal, gripping your hair with possession and dominance. his tone coming out almost mockingly,

mhmm, my sweet baby you sound like a fucking porn star, my little porn star. are you ready for daddy to fuck you like the whore that are you? come onnn tell me, TELL ME!

hearing how turned on nikki was getting, the aggression in his tone, triggered the wetness that was forming to start to drip down your inner thigh, your core intensifying with each passing second. of course nikki noticed immediately, his ego going through the roof.

d-daddy...

oh i know angel, let me clean that up for you, such a messy girl. my baby girl can't help it, your pussy is getting so soaked for daddy.

lowering himself down to your bare pussy, his eyes fixated on you, making sure he caught a glimpse of your face before devouring your cunt like it was his last meal on earth. his tongue exploring every part of you, licking, sucking, spitting on your clit.

my godddd princess you taste so fucking good. you are so goddamn sweet, jesus christ!

letting your body take complete control, moaning his name, not caring how loud you were being. you were in pure ecstasy. the more you responded to his touch, the more nikki fed off your energy, growling into your pussy, gripping your thighs, leaving handprints on your skin.

at one point, you made the mistake of closing your legs. without hesitation, nikki yanked your legs back apart, slapping your pussy. the abrupt spank on your core causing your ears to ring.

did i say you can close your legs? DID I LITTLE GIRL? YOU KNOW WHAT-

in a matter of seconds, you and nikki were in the missionary position, as he planted himself right in between, lining himself up by your entrance.

i-im sorry, i-i didn't- OH FUCK DADDY!

immediately fucking you at an animalistic pace, not giving you any sort of warning. nikki began to chuckle at your gasps and yelps.

awe what's wrong baby, can't handle me? am i too rough for you little one?

his stamina letting him continue to fuck you roughly with ease, going in and out, deeper and deeper with each stroke. you couldn't form a single sentence, letting out short breaths, whimpers and random curses. getting close to the edge, you started to tighten around nikki.

ohhh baby, baby girl, your tight pussy is going to be the death of me. fucking god, cum with daddy, you better fucking cum with me.

nikki's words laced with a mixture of love, lust and possessiveness, you rolled your eyes at that, feeling that familiar built up start to unravel. your orgasm crashing down on you, letting out a high pitched moan which turned into you screaming nikki's name.

OHH- AHHH FUCK BABY IM CUMING, THAT PRETTY PUSSY FEELS SO GOOD, KEEP SQUEEZING, FUCK!

as the both of you slowly fell down from your high, bodies covered in sweat and desire, you looked up at nikki with puppy dog eyes. he couldn't stop the smile that was forming on his face as he softly caressed your cheek, lightly pitching it, cooing at you.

you really are such a good girl for me, fuck , you are perfect.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧｡⋆

(my daddy issues are going through the roof right now… hope y’all enjoyed! please don’t feel shy to talk to me <3 request, request, request! much love babes, mwah 😘)

[king-spite]

genuinely believe that the only correct way to approach the whole marecal vs mareven deal is to adore all three of them with your whole heart. and see them as a trio rather than a love triangle. like sorry but if you don't lowkey fw all of them and like each of them as a character on their own AND accept the many layers of the relationship they have with one another you're not getting things right :/

[knockknockitsnickels]

Honestly I've set myself up for disappointment because when the new arc comes out and it does NOT contain Tawnypelt x Leafstar Yuri with their adoptive daughter Moonpaw I'm going to be devastated

[telesodalite]

This is a bit random, but I've been thinking about Misfire a lot lately, and it struck me, that with his adhd, the whole implied/hc'd substance use is only sometimes considered as a form of self-medicating? And, idk, I find the concept interesting.

Like, yeah sure, within the canon implications it's just stereotypical stuff, so it can be interpreted as wholly recreational, and whatever one might call accidentally catching a high from blood you've taken from a corpse.

But like, his adhd is emphasized as an important aspect of his character, so surely it's impacted his millions of years worth of life with its symptoms? Both good and bad?

The Decepticons in idw1 are weird, in many ways lol, but in the sense that they're the faction defined by their oddballs and rejects. They're the unwanted, the belittled, the different, the oppressed, the strange, the mad. But at the same time, any deviance from their impossible and ever-changing standards is punishable and looked down upon.

It's a classic, almost frustratingly stereotypical case of a system built against oppression becoming the oppressors. But that's not the point here.

The point is that they opened their arms and offered the idea of freedom to those who felt different from the pre-war standards, who felt belittled by it, or betrayed by it, and promptly went and turned around on these people to make them feel belittled and betrayed and made different from their own new standards.

Abuse, in many forms, runs rampant within Decepticon ranks. From the very top, to the very bottom. Any deviation or perceived weakness is an open invitation for such actions. Throw in the DJD, and there's no escape from it. No way to get out, only fit in and keep your head low, or become the very thing you originally wanted to fight against and be free from.

Substance abuse is mentioned in canon enough to assume that certain amounts of it were almost expected across both Decepticon and Autobot ranks and contingents. But considering the condition of Decepticon standards and communities, it can be assumed to be a bit more rampant in their case.

So, Misfire. We don't have much context for his background and what all he's seen and done.

It's implied he did some spywork, or at least made some cross faction connections during the war with Brainstorm, which might've been a big enough deal that it caught the attention of Skids, because he's aware of Misfire of all people, knows he changed his name right at the end of the war, and considers Misfire somewhat as a nemesis, which, might I remind thee that Skids was part of a secret special operations unit, a secret special operations unit under fucking Prowl!? So uh, possible big interesting stuff that never got explained there.

(The possible spy bit keeps me up at night I swear to god, bcs wtf were all those tiny implications supposed to mean?!? I need to know all the details of that possible spy drama so bad, omg)

Then, we know he "accidentally" killed "a dozen" other cons towards the end of the war, and that he was going to be jailed for it.

So Misfire's life obviously went down the drain before the murdering a dozen fellow soldiers bit, but considering every awful and challenging factor of being a sub-par soldier in the Decepticon army/air force, what kept him from doing something like that earlier on?

More important, what got someone like him through the war? What kept him going? What kept him alive? Well uh... the same thing that kept a lot of Decepticons going I guess. Substance abuse.

Ok so where does the self-medication angle of this whole thing come in Teles?? My answer to that would be, uh, inherently ig.

Because think about it, you're just some kinda weird guy, caught in the middle of one long ass war. You're never good enough, can't achieve the one thing you've been gunning(lol) for, and are just sorta flying by the seat of your metaphorical pants through life. You're a solider, and a victim of systematic abuse because of that, and at some point, you're possibly a perpetrator of that abuse*. On top of all that, you've also got raging adhd during all this stress and trauma, and man, quieting those racing thoughts and numbing that constant buzzing itch in your body probably feels really good when you're escaping your extremely stressful situation for just a bit.

It feels better to be more detached, to be "calmer", less caught up in a hundred thoughts at once, more focused, more in control. Eventually this becomes the subconscious focus of his using to ease the stress. It "fixes" something. Makes things "right". So casual escapist substance use tumbles into substance abuse and addiction.

How this factors into his post-war life, idk, you decide ig.

I figure the scavs being broke and cut-off from others could play a part in Misfire having to wean himself off of whatever substances were most common among his ranks, but he's also probably creative enough to make stuff from whatever they pick up. Anything considered to be "hard stuff" would likely be frowned upon or policed by Krok tho, because of the whole traumatic experience with Roadbuster and his extreme brutality due to perceived Syk abuse.

But then again, the scavs are all still very much cons with vices, and 100% constant sobriety is apprently a challenge or punishment for cons and bots alike post war.

-

*(Expanding on that bit via another ramble I had lying around that i thought i'd include)

When considering Misfire's adhd, most things emphasize the hyperactivity and impulsiveness in general without also emphasizing the negative sides.

That moment where he almost punches Grimlock comes to mind a lot.

It could be viewed as just a side-effect of perpetuated Decepticon abuse, a knee-jerk reaction that may have been turned on him during the war for his mistakes, that he in turn expresses towards others "mistakes".

Something to also consider here though, is how the impulsivity of adhd can make violent reactions worse, anger and/or frustration harder to control, and harder to hold back from expressing outwardly or physically, especially if left unchecked or untreated for a long time.

But Misfire stops and takes a second to collect himself before becoming somber as he considers Grimlock's perspective.

This instinctually violent reaction is not something he wants, or likes, and judging by how much time has passed by that point in the comic, this has been something he's been working on and is still working on.

But what about while he was still an active solider? When holding back was seen as a weak or foolish response? How did the impulsivity play into it? After being treated like that himself, struck or beaten for mistakes, at what point did it snap and he found himself standing over another solider as they stared up at him with that same fear and shock and hurt he had felt. How did that affect him to know he was capable of doing that without thought?

Because, ya know, he's done bad things too...

[ladyinthebluebox]

...smth smth history gives me big feels™

[gender-euphowrya]

the forgotten city Good 👍