#I have way more thoughts on this but this is stupid long as it is

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. “he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[ajmakoko]

That's because your thoughts have a real, physical basis and hyperfixation is a special circumstance

If your brain was a town, then making new thoughts and connections would be like adding in roads, pipes, plumbing, and housing in an area. Making a new road is slow and hard, but once the road and city scaffolding is in, as long as there are supplies (neurochemicals) then you can keep building, much faster and easier than when you were putting in the road. Some areas of a city pretty already much have everything ready to go (having been built years ago) and just need large amounts of the right supplies (eg don't need pipes anymore but might need wood, glass, cement, etc). Once that happens, the hyperfixation occurs and everything gets built and put into place. Eventually we might look like that really dense city, Kowloon (doesn't exist anymore).

So yes, over time you can indeed be disciplined enough theoretically to create your own hyperfixations (personally I do not believe much in doing this). That feeling of "ugh," then an excuse to dismiss or ignore the information - that's your brain admitting it doesn't have the infrastructure or supplies to make those connections. You just have to keep at it gradually to help your brain start supplying and developing that area. Sometimes people will feel a rush of histamine (scratchy, often grouchy), a neurochemical responsible for both learning and allergies and wakefulness - and the body might balance it out with adrenaline (anxiety, excitement). Often people will attribute these feelings as meaning something beyond a brain's need for hormones, eg "I'm feeling anxious therefore that means I'm stupid and I'll learn this." That isn't true - you're learning it right then by having those feelings. But breaks are also good.

Of course, brains are neuroplastic! Stuff can change and move. But there is a real physical cost to changing your mind.

Personally, I think being undisciplined is okay. I never liked chemistry but I liked medicine- now I know a lot about chemistry through the scaffolding I had already built from medical knowledge, which was way easier for my brain than trying to build a whole other area of the city for it.y brain was saying, "hey, this is a lot of effort here!" And eventually found a more efficient way to store that information.

it's so wild to me that you absolutely cannot force a hyperfixation to happen. like you'll watch the most perfectly tailor-made-for-you content that everyone says you'll love and feel absolutely nothing, and then the thing you watch on a whim to fill time will reach through the screen and put its damn fingers in your brain and start rearranging the neurons right in front of you and every single time you're like THIS??? THIS??????? and this happens like every 6-12 months forever

[kashverse]

I love your drabbles!!

What about nanami preparing to confess to us?

i wrote this with teacher! nanami x teacher! reader in mind :)

you never in a million years thought the nanami from the class next door would like you.

sure, you had an undeniably stupid crush on him—the kind that made you stare too long when he rolled his sleeves up, or made your brain short-circuit when he adjusted his tie with those his hands. but he was nanami. effortlessly cool, the most responsible adult in the building, the man whose serious expression could make a room full of five-year-olds sit up straight. he was way out of your league. so when he pulled you aside in the middle of the kindergarten hallway—two fully grown adults wearing aprons with cartoon animals on them—and said, "i like you," your brain malfunctioned.

“oh, uh, you like—what, my new markers? yeah, they’re pretty great, got them on sale, actually. or wait—did you mean you like my lesson plan from this morning? yeah, the pigeon thing was a hit, huh? unless—oh god, you meant my classroom decor, didn’t you? listen, the rainbow border was a choice but—”

“i like you.”

“right, so when you say ‘like,’ do you mean as in friendly coworker appreciation, or like as in—like my handwriting? because i know it’s neat, but—”

“i like you.”

you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again. nanami sighed, then—he took your hands. your hands. in his hands. like it was nothing. like it was normal.

and he was blushing. cheeks dusty pink, a ridiculous contrast to his sharp blonde hair and the completely straight-faced delivery of his confession.

meanwhile, your entire nervous system short-circuited. the world blurred for a second—just you, standing there, trying to process what was happening—until a piercing shriek shattered the moment.

“OH MY GOSH, MR. NANAMI IS HOLDING MS. Y/N LIKE A PRINCE!”

followed by more shrieks. the tiny, high-pitched chaos of your entire class losing their minds.

you turned your head in slow, mechanical horror to see dozens of little faces pressed up against the glass door, hands smushed against it, their muffled cheers breaking through the barrier. nanami’s class, having witnessed the commotion, joined in. soon, the whole hallway was filled with kindergarteners chanting ‘KISS! KISS! KISS!’ like a cult.

nanami let out the heaviest sigh of his life. “i should have picked a better place for this,” he muttered.

“you think?!” you whisper-hissed, face now hotter than the sun.

he squeezed your hands. seriously. earnestly. like he meant it. like he meant all of it.

the chanting only got louder. the kids were now banging on the glass.

“so…” you swallowed, eyes darting around. “wanna run?”

nanami nodded.

you ran.

[suiana]

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

[wandixx]

Danny the Young Justice member

“Hey, like, hypothetically, do you think Justice League could pay me if I became hero full time?”

It shaped out to be pretty long and boring stake-out, with rest of Team scattered around but connected with Mindlink, so it seemed like best moment to ask. It wasn’t something Danny wanted to do, but it shaped out to be his only chance to get any future. He cried over it enough times already, so there was even a chance he won’t breakdown trying to discuss it out in the semi-public. He wanted to keep it as calm and rational as he could and hey, if something started to get too emotional, he could say he saw some suspicious movement and fly off to fight someone. Really, it was perfect situation.

“How hypothetical is this question?” Robin asked after a beat of silence. It was quiet and careful, like he was afraid to set him off if he said something wrong or he did it wrong way. It made skin on his back crawl. Danny knew he was a bit more volatile lately, but he really hoped special treatment would stop soon.

“Hypothetical”

“Okay, let’s say we don’t know it’s a lie”

“Unnecessary” Artemis coughed.

“C’mon it kinda was–”

“Can someone just answer my fucking question?”

“I don’t think so. Batman is the one doing most of the funding, and he is really stubborn about school and future. He wants us all to have chance at normal life outside of this hero villain business with regular job and stuff”

That didn’t bode well, but Danny hadn’t got this far by losing hope whenever first obstacle occurred.

“But I could be ready whenever disaster strikes or some villain attacks or really whenever it’s necessary and I wouldn’t need to escape any civilian stuff,” he may have gotten a bit desperate along this little rant, but he just pushed through “It always takes precious minutes and–”

“It doesn’t really seem to be hypothetical anymore,” Wally interrupted and he was lucky to be on different roof, because Danny, he sworn to ancients, would strangle him if redhead was any closer.

He was very adamant about not thinking about how his last ideas of surviving to adulthood started crumbling. He promised himself to not have breakdown in the open.

He wasn’t going to.

It was fine.

He would figure something out. He always did.

“Danny?”

“It’s fine Meg, don’t worry”

“Can we ask what brought this hypothetical on your mind? You’ve always were the most assured that you’ll stop being hero at some point and move on”

Bless Kaldur to always know when to ask best-worst question. Danny wasn’t going to cry, so he wasn’t going to answer.

“We can’t help you if we don’t what’s wrong,” M’gann said softly, like she was just trying to remind him.

Something small hit his lap. A tear. When did it get here?

“It’s fine. It’s just a stupid thought”

“Okay. Tell us when you’re ready”

“Something suspicious is going on, I think it’s what we’re looking for,” Everyone needed Conner on their squad to get conversation back on not emotional track.

As it turned out it was indeed what they were looking for, and soon Danny got to express all of his pent up aggression in only a bit misplaced way.

“That was harsh”

“Shut up, this one doesn’t have pain receptors”

“Phantom has a bad day, huh?”

“You’re about to have worse,” he growled and punched guy until he stopped grinning.

It was quick work after that.

“Danny?”

Only bad side of Mindlink was that he couldn’t act like he was losing connection. It would be useful right now.

“Danny?”

“Not now”

“In the Bioship then. Not a minute later, am I clear?”

“Crystal”

He started calculating a way to get out before. He used to do it all the time, at the beginning. It was easier when Team didn’t know about his human side and they were holding each other at the arms length, but still. He could–

Conner landed right behind him and put hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t restrain, it wasn’t assuring. It was just there.

Here came his plans of escape.

“So–” Artemis started as soon as the door of Ship had closed “– what the fuck is wrong with you lately?”

“We all know it’s not nothing”

“I’m being overdramatic”

“About what?”

Danny just slumped forward and his face in hands.

“Danny”

“I have to retake year. I’m not even half way through highschool and I’m already failing and I- I just can’t do better. It’s not like I don’t have time to study, and I do try sometimes, but just as often I’m just being dumb and messing around, and I knew I failed some other tests, but last one? Last one I was sure I’ve got it, I was trying, I was trying so hard and I still fucked it up and if I can’t make it even when- even when I’m trying my best, then what is the point?”

He took a moment to breathe, to rub tearing eyes. He still wasn’t going to cry.

“I’m already kinda good at this hero thing, so I could just keep it up. I don’t think I’ll make it to the end of high school, so no good job for me, but maybe I could. I could have something, you know. Something useful. Something good. Maybe I can have some life after all”

Someone rubbed his back but he didn’t raise his head to see who.

“I didn’t want to let accident destroy any more of my life than it did, but I don’t think I can”

“Well, impossible sounds right about the task for us. We’ve got you”

Well fuck. That’s about that in not crying department.

[justmeinadaze]

Curiosity (Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: When I tell you that this did things to me...omg.

I was going to do a one shot but there's a few stories to tell with this two (and I love them already so bleh!)

There is a small glimpse into future steddie activity ;)

I dedicate this to the older girlies looking for their own Eddie Munson <3

Warnings: Younger (Early 20s) Daddy (kinda camboy) Eddie & Older (early 30s) Plus Size Sub Fem Y/N, SMUT, SO MUCH dirty talk <3, daddy kink (cause I'm me), praise, semi-public (back of his van), big dick Eddie Munson, squirting, etc. FLUFF, these two work together and talk about being each others "work spouses".

ANGST, Y/N stumbles upon Eddie's "second job" on OnlyFans, struggles with the notion of telling him, reader (like myself) makes jokes about being older, weight doesn't play a factor in here and its barely mentioned. Eddie does say how beautiful and sexy he thinks her body is. I think that's it.

The main angst here is her stumbling onto his account and not telling him.

Word Count: 7874

Donate to Me <3

"Yeah, she's got those pretty eyes

But behind them lies

Thoughts of him at night she can't seem to fight

Feelings that she knows she's gonna have to feed"

You hated call center work but it paid alright and it was something you could do while you worked towards your goals of becoming something more. While the work and customers were tedious, the environment wasn’t too bad. Your manager was a sweet girl a little younger than you and the company did a bit more for its employees than the typical “You did well this quarter. Here’s a pizza party.”

Your head falls on to your desk as you hang up the phone after one of the rudest customer experiences in your life. 

A slight draw back was, like your manager, a lot of the coworkers around you were younger, ranging from just graduating high school to their mid-twenties. Listening to most of these kids talk made you feel old as hell which is part of the reason you connected to the boy on the opposite side of your cubicle. 

While Eddie Munson was in his early twenties, he had a slightly older soul. When he wasn’t talking to you or anyone else, he had hair metal playing in his headphones and even had that long, wild hair to match. He talked about things you remembered growing up with fondly as if he was born around the same time and when you questioned him about it, he just said he was “raised right.”

“Fun chat?”, he teased as he leaned back in his seat.

“Exciting!”, you mumbled into your arm that your head was resting on. 

Eddie’s warm laugh filled your ears as his palm extended out to rub your back. 

“I know, sweetheart. These fucking people can be real pricks sometimes.”

“Edward Munson.”

“Mrs. Angela.”

“Language. Just because you aren’t on the phone doesn’t mean people can’t hear you on the other end.”

You laughed as you sat up, meeting his radiate grin as he chuckles. 

“Yes ma’am, Mrs. Angela. I apologize for the foul mouth I was born with.”

Your manager mumbles a soft mhmm and he continues to smile as he leans in closer to speak at a much softer volume. 

“Don’t let these people walk all over you. Remember, they need your help.”, he winks before lightly poking your nose. 

As the day came to a close and you both walked out together, you asked him what his plans were for the evening and he responded the same way he always did. 

“Um, probably going to put in some hours at my second job. I want to put in more recording time this weekend and the fucking manager at the studio is demanding we put down payments before we can use the equipment. It’s fucking stupid. I mean it’s not like we’re taking the stuff home.”

“One day, you’ll have to let me hear you play.”, you smile his way as you throw your things into your car. 

“And one day you’ll finally accept my invitation to come see us play on stage.”, he grins as he opens your car door and rests his chin on the top while he watches you put your things away. 

“I think I’m too old to be hanging out in a bar.”, you giggle. 

“Says who? Definitely not me because if I met a pretty lady like you at The Hideout she’d never go home alone again.”

Eddie’s smile widens and he sticks out his tongue through his teeth as you roll your eyes. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, weirdo.”

“Bye, babe.”

After he closed your door, your eyes followed him as he pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit the end on his way to his van. 

He really was a good man and utterly adorable. People in the office called him your work husband which gave you secondhand embarrassment till he himself began playing into the role. 

“Hey now Mrs. Angela, don’t talk to my work wife that way. Don’t worry, baby girl, I got your back.”, he joked with the manager as he slid his arm around your shoulders. 

Eddie made you laugh constantly and when you had a hard day, he was your sound board allowing you to vent. A part of you felt guilty because he seemed to know more about you than you did about him besides the fact that he wanted to be a rockstar. 

You genuinely did want to hang out with him outside of work but the insecure part of you couldn’t help but always wonder why he’d even want to spend his free time with someone your age when he could be giving his attention to any of the slimmer, more attractive women his own age. 

The sound of him slamming his car door brought you back into the moment as you pushed your gear into reverse and sped to your home. 

***

“Hey, can I use your laptop to watch a movie in bed?”, you ask your roommate as her heels click along the floor behind where you were sitting on the sofa. 

“Seriously? That’s what you’re doing with your Thursday night?”

“Relaxing after a long day at the office? Yes, Kelsey.”

“Why don’t you go out on a date or something?”

“So is that a yes or…?”

Your roommate sighs as she scurries somewhere before she wiggles the device in your peripherals and you thank her. 

“Don’t judge me when you open it. I was watching this sexy guy on Only Fans. Hot damn.”, she swooned making you laugh as she quickly hugged you and hurried towards the door. “I love you! Don’t wait up for me!”

Shaking your head, you take her laptop and throw yourself on your mattress as you flip it open. 

Images of cute people caught your attention and you couldn’t stop yourself as you nonchalantly began to browse. You had never signed up for one of these let alone really knew anything about the platform besides the obvious. You weren’t a prude by any means, you had just never gone down avenues like this.

There were probably millions of people on this site… so the chances of your eyes landing on a face you knew had to be astronomical.

Yet as you clicked a “featured” link, a face you very much recognized appeared front and center. 

Eddie or as the name read, EddietheBanished, was smirking up at the camera with his upper torso bare showing off all the muscle you were completely unaware he had.

You should have let it go; respected his boundaries and closed the browser but it was like autopilot moved you as you clicked his link.

There he was.

The metalhead was sitting at a desk in what you assumed was his bedroom with his head hanging and hair in front of his face as he strummed his guitar. Shaking his mane, his gorgeous eyes met the camera before that sexy smile painted his lips. 

“I see a lot of new ‘faces.’ Welcome. I’m a nice guy I swear. I’ll be getting started here in a minute so take your time, relax, get comfy.”

You immediately backed out and slammed the computer shut, powerwalking into your kitchen to get a glass of wine. 

“No, no Y/N. He’s your friend and your coworker. Don’t invade that boundary. Don’t…”

As you took a sip of your beverage, you glared at the device that felt like it was taunting you from your bed. 

“Maybe…I can make my own account and just…see what he does. Maybe he just plays guitar without his shirt on. People do that right?”

Sitting back down, you reopened the laptop and logged out of your roommates account, selecting to create your own. 

“Name…name…I need a name…”

Um CurvyCorporateMillennial.

“God that’s dumb.”, you sigh at your internal thought as you upload a picture of a random flower as your profile pic and search for his name after you set everything set up. 

“Alright, friends, you know the drill. You get an hour to ask me questions and tip if you wish. The private group session will begin after.”

Over the course of the hour, you listened to him talk about music and his instrument, strumming along to random songs you definitely recognized, making you smile as you watched his fingers moved. Eddie was incredibly charming, replying off every innuendo with something cute or sassy in return. You enjoyed the regular answers more than anything as he came out of his shell a bit differently than he did at work. 

“Yeah, a lot of these tattoos I got because I had the money and I wanted it.”, he chuckled. “But this one here… I got for Master of Puppets and that album. Do you guys know who sings that?”

“Metallica.”

“Damn…CurvyCorporateMillennial answered that quick. Good girl.”, he chuckles making you smirk before you internally panic. 

“Shit. How am I the only one who answered that, that fast?”

“My mom and my uncle really loved all kinds of music. Inspired me to learn to play…”, he sighed as his eyes went a bit glassy. 

Your heart broke for him as you listened to the sad tone in his voice, wondering if something happened there. He never talked about his parents but to be fair you also never asked. 

“You play very well.”

A soft smile spread across his lips as he winked at the camera causing you to bite your own lip at how fucking sexy the action genuinely was. 

“Alright, we’re nearing the end of this hour. It was nice talkin’ to you guys. To my special group, I will see you in about five minutes. I hope to see you there to, Millennial.”

With that he turned off his stream, leaving you dumbfounded as you stared at your screen. 

“No…there’s no way he was talking to me. There have to other people with Millennial in their name… Y/N, you’ve been here long enough and you even engaged. You need to back away now.”

The entire time you went on the hunt for your credit card, you had that debate with yourself, down to the last minute and point you hit enter. 

When the new room opened, he was smiling at the camera as if he had been waiting just for you before they flicked down to the monitor in front of him. Instead of having a guitar in his lap, the metalhead displayed his palm absently rubbing his crotch through his sweats.

“Hey, guys. Thank you for your time and money. This is where the conversation gets fun.”, Eddie chuckles. “Ask away.”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

You can’t see anything displayed on the screen but you can see the reflection of words glisten within his chocolate eyes. 

“Aha, no. No, Steve tonight. I did ask but he said he’s incredibly busy this week…Ok, JulieGirl, I’ll let him know you miss him. Shit, I miss him to. Man definitely knows how to leave me a mumbling mess… Yeah? You’d sit on Daddy’s cock?”

“F-Fuck me.”, you panted, completely frozen as you watched him reach into his pants and take out his dick to spit over his tip, stroking it along his shaft. 

You had never thought about Eddie intimately like that but seeing him wrap his large palm around his girth had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Fuck, no, wrong!”, you shout as you close the browser and slam the laptop closed. 

##################

“Hey, sweetheart.”, Eddie murmured while his hand rubbed along your back as he flopped down in his seat beside you. This was an action he did everyday which is why he was startled when you gasped and jumped in your chair. “Whoa! You alright, honey? Too much coffee?”, he joked, nervous when you didn’t laugh.

“I’m fine.”, you replied curtly, choosing to focus on your computer in front of you. 

For the rest of the day, you avoided his gaze and kept your head down to work. During your lunch you two would usually sit together but today when he asked if you wanted to go anywhere, you declined and gestured towards your monitor.  

As soon as he clocked out, you waited for him to exit the floor, clocking out as well before following. You hid when you noticed him waiting for the elevator, counting to 30 after he got on and the door closed before pressing the button to ride your own. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you prayed you’d miss him coming back in, your eyes widening in surprise when the elevator door opened and Eddie was leaning against the opposite wall. 

“Hey, um, oh fuck. I forgot something—”

As the doors began to close again, the metalhead took long strides forward and his palm loudly smacked against the bumpers causing them to slowly open once more. 

“Did I do something to make you mad?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Did I say something or do something to offend you?”

“Pfft, Eddie, what are talking about?”, you reply as nonchalantly as possible while stepping around his broad frame and heading for the parking lot. 

“Oh, come off it, Y/N. You’ve barely said two words to me and now you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you—”

“Just tell me what I did wrong—!”, he shouts as he reaches for your bicep to get you to slow down but pauses when you abruptly turn and glare his way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…grab you… I just…I don’t like this…you treating me like most of the people in this fucking town.”

“Huh?”, you inquire, genuinely confused. 

“Shit. I forget you’re not from here sometimes. Um, let’s just say I don’t have many friends. I know we don’t really hang out outside of the building but I like talking to you. It would seriously break my heart if you never spoke to me again.”

Your own heart cracked hearing the sincerity in his voice as his gaze shifted to his feet like a nervous kid. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything. I’m just…I have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”, he asks. “As your work husband it’s my duty to hear about my work wife’s woos.” As you laugh at his joke, a sigh of relief leaves his chest. 

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“Ok…may I buy you lunch, my lady?”

***

You exhaled as you got home and threw yourself flat on your bed, exhausted from the day and your constant thoughts about what you had seen the night before. 

You considered just telling him what you saw but you didn’t want to embarrass him nor did you want to come off like some kind of pervert. You knew he had a “second job” but you never asked what it was mostly because you didn’t want to pry. 

He seemed so hurt today when you ignored him and it didn’t help that you were now pent up, needing a release after hearing him talk the way he had. 

Your phone dinged and originally you ignored it, thinking it was most likely your roommate who was letting you know that she got to work safely like she always did being that she worked a late-night shift at one of the restaurants nearby. 

When you finally looked at the screen, you were surprised to see a notification from the OnlyFans account. 

Your private session with EddietheBanished starts in five minutes.

“Huh? I didn’t…”

Once again you debated with you internal self as you got to your feet and headed to grab your roommate’s device. 

“I can log in and just tell him ‘Hey it’s Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have clicked on your thing…’ Yeah…Ok, Y/N.”

As soon as you opened the browser and signed in, you made sure the camera was off as you entered the session link sent to you. 

“Hey, Millennial.”, Eddie’s sultry voice cooed as he smiled at the screen. “I hope it’s alright. I scheduled this session here. I noticed you left the group thing before it really started and since you paid for it, I thought it only fair to do this so you don’t feel like you wasted your money.”

Your face softened at his kind confession as you sighed and began to type. 

“You didn’t have to do that. You seem very sweet. I wouldn’t have felt like I wasted my money at all.”

“Aw, thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that. May I ask why you left so abruptly?”

“I…”

“It felt wrong.”

The metalhead blinked as he nodded and leaned back in his chair as his palm absently rubbed his tummy, the action in itself filling your own stomach with little butterflies. 

“You’re not an OnlyFans normal, are you, honey?”

“Not really no. I was borrowing my roommate’s laptop and when I opened it I saw your face. I got curious.”

“It’s alright to be curious. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I seem to be unintentionally doing that.”, he chuckles causing your head to tilt. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about my problems.”

“No, please. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just… I work at this boring ass job during the day but the only person that keeps me sane seemed upset at me today…kinda scared me. My coworkers call her my work wife.” 

“I’m sure she just had a lot on her mind.”

“Hm, that’s what she said but…she doesn’t really talk to me about her personal life. I hope everything is ok. I invite her out sometimes but she always declines…says she’s ‘too old’.”, he laughs as he shakes his head. 

The two of you casually talked for what felt like minutes before you glanced at your phone and realized it had actually been over four hours. Eddie opened up to you, talking about his family especially his uncle, his dreams of being a rock & roll legend, and things he enjoyed like D & D. 

“I know absolutely nothing about that game! Lol. I wish I did though. It seems like fun.”

“Oh, baby, it is. Maybe you’ll let me teach you one day…see that pretty face behind the flower…”

“Pfft, how do you know my face is pretty? Lol.”

“Because how can a gorgeous soul like yours not be gorgeous.”

Eddie’s words gave you pause as your breath caught in your throat. He had said it with so much confidence to that you couldn’t help but physically hide behind your hands.

“I hope I’m not being too forward. I don’t mean to make you nervous or anything.”

“No…you don’t make me nervous…I think you’re just wasting that charm on someone my age.”

“Hm, well, I may be younger but I can still be Daddy.”

As he winks at the camera and smiles your whole body comes to life. 

“Eddie…there’s something I should tell you…”

“Did I move to fast? I’m sorry. It’s so weird but I feel like I’ve known you for years, you know? Fuck, probably sounds like a line.”

His hair moves from side to side as he shakes him head in shame and laughs making you laugh along with him. 

“It does but that’s alright. I’ve never done anything like this before. Not just the whole online thing but…the Daddy thing… God, that sounds so stupid.”

“No, no, baby, you don’t sound stupid. May I ask, sweetheart…did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Hearing me refer to myself that way; as Daddy.”

“Yes.”

Eddie’s smile stretches across his face as he bites his bottom lip and leans back in his seat. 

“I wish I could see you. I’m picturing you like blushing and being all giggly. Fuck, the thought of seeing you like that turns me on.”

Your breath shakes at his words as your thighs rub together. 

“You’ve spent so much time talking and getting to know me, baby, I’d like to return the favor.”

“How?”

Scooting his chair a bit closer to the camera, he adjusts his body so you can see more of his lap and chest. 

“How’s this, sweetheart? Got a good view?”

“I can’t see your face very well.”

You vaguely catch it as his cheeks turn a bright crimson and he smirks as he messes with the camera once more so you can see all his face a bit better. 

“Most people on here want to see my abs or my cock.”

“With partners, I like seeing their eyebrows scrunch together or their mouth fall open.”

“Hear that whimper most men try to hide under their heavy breaths.”

“Fuck me, honey. You definitely have a way with words. I like it. What, um, damn, you threw me a bit off my groove there.”, he chuckles as his palm rubs up his pec and over his opposite shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Maybe…we can talk next weekend. I can schedule the session myself this time. 

“Would it be too forward if I asked for your phone number? I’d love to talk with you through the week.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Eddie.”

“Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

####################

You tried so many times to tell him about finding his account and how you were the girl he spoke with that Friday night, you really did. But the longer you waited, the harder it became. 

When he came in that Monday morning, Eddie had a different glow about him as he lightly tugged your hair and said hello. 

The week went by like normal and you spent every day hyping yourself up, finally deciding you would tell him on Saturday after surprising him by seeing him play at The Hideout. You figured he’d be in such a good mood that you showed up to see him, maybe he wouldn’t be so angry after you told him the truth. 

When you opened the bar entrance door, you were met with loud blaring music and a lot of young voices chatting over the music. Mumbling small apologies, you pushed past people to find a table near the stage hoping you’d be able to catch his eyeline so Eddie knew you were there. 

Lucky for you, they were already on stage preparing their equipment so you hastily snuck to the corner and called his name. When his chocolate eyes met yours, he smiled wide before seeming to freeze as he took you in. 

You weren’t sure what was normal for bar attire so you went with a green spaghetti strap dress with matching heels and light make up to accentuate your features. 

“Hey! I hope I’m not distracting you. I just wanted you to know—”

“Hey, no. No, no. You’re not…distracting me…”, Eddie interrupted as he jumped down from the stage to give you a hug. 

Fuck, he smelled amazing.

“Wow, sweetheart, you look gorgeous. I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“I wasn’t sure what was normal or…”

“Pfft, fuck normal.” As his eyes continued to run along your face, you both seemed to realize he hadn’t taken his arms off your waist after your embrace. “Fuck…I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. Usually, I’m a lot smoother than this.”

“Are you?”, you tease causing his grin to reappear as he takes a step back and pokes your nose. 

“There’s my work wife I know and love. Alright, I have to finish getting ready but please stay afterward and let me buy you a drink, ok?”

***

“Eddie, oh my God, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play like that!”, you continued to compliment as he laughed, chugging back another bottle of beer in his grasp.

“Thank you, baby. Now, if you could advocate for us to get more record time so we can actually get something out.”

“Whatever you need. Do you have a shirt or maybe I can get a tattoo on my forehead.”

You giggle as he laughs and shakes his head. 

“No, Y/N. Would be a shame to damage a gorgeous face like yours.”, Eddie smirks as you bite your lip. 

“So, did your mom teach you to play guitar like that or did your uncle?”

The metalhead blinks, slightly taken aback. 

“What would make you say that? My mom or my uncle and not like my dad?”

“Oh, um, we’ve talked about your uncle before and you’ve never really mentioned your father so I just assumed… I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry.”, he sighs as his gaze shifts to the table.  “My mom got me into music but my uncle taught me to play my guitar. My dad taught me other bullshit like how to hot wire a car and how to spend the rest of your life in prison.”

Your heart breaks for him and on impulse you lean your head on his shoulder as you place your palm over his.

“Yeah, this is why I don’t usually talk about myself.”

“You can always talk to me, Eddie.”

The man smiles softly as he lifts his arm to wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer to his side. 

“I’m glad you came, Y/N. It was nice seeing you out here bobbing your head and cheering for me.”

You laugh as he tilts his head against yours and his hand slides from your shoulder down your bicep. 

“I’m your wife. I thought it was about time to come see my husband play his loud records for the youngens.”

Eddie’s throat vibrates as he chuckles through his teeth but you barely notice as you nuzzle your nose into his neck and inhale the smell of his cologne. 

“You always talk like you were born in 1943 or something.”

“Psh, my body makes me feel that way sometimes.”

“Now why do I doubt that? With a body like yours, honey, I bet you feel better than any of these other girls.”

Leaning your head back, your eyes lock with his as your hand comes up to rest on his cheek so your thumb can caress his bottom lip. 

Just as his mouth is about to press to yours, you gasp as you push away from him. 

“Oh my God…Eddie…I’m…I’m so sorry.”

As he watches you panic, confusion floods his face and freezes him in place until you hurriedly push out the front door. Before you make it to your car, a ringed palm grabs your arm, pushing your back against an adjacent van as he crashes his lips to yours. 

It was a messy kiss but fuck did it taste fucking good. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he allowed you both a moment to catch your breath as his tall, broad frame kept you boxed in.

“Please, Y/N. I want this…I want you…I want to feel you…”, Eddie whispered as his mouth ghosted your neck to your ear and your eyes rolled shut at the sound. “I want to taste you and hear all the noises you make, baby.”

“F-Fuck…Daddy…”

“Uh my God.”, he breathily panted as his hand absently reached for the door handle and opened the back. “It’s ok…this is mine…I promise.”

The metalhead didn’t even wait for a response as he lifted you by your waist and placed you inside, shutting the door behind him. 

As you crawled backwards further into the back of his van, he hastily climbed up your body to attach his mouth to yours again. Placing his knee between your legs, you took advantage desperate for friction to relieve the ache making you dizzy with need. 

“That’s it, baby girl, use Daddy’s leg. Fuck, I can feel how wet you are.”

Your fists grabbed at his shirt as you moaned against his lips. 

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart? What a desperate little thing.”

The rhythm of your hips hastened as your grip on him tightened and your back arched as the coil snapped. 

“Good, good girl. Fuck.”

As his mouth attached to your throat, your fingers reached between you two and sloppily fumbled with his belt as he reached back to help you pull his pants just below his ass. 

“Holy shit.”, he whispered as your palm took hold of his incredibly hard cock and moved the cotton blocking your core to the side to allow him entry. “Fuck, baby.”

Your arms came around to cling to his shoulders as his head fell into your nook and he set a steady pace.

“Oh my God, Eddie…your dick is so big…” He grunted at your words as he rolled his hips, pushing his length as deep as your pussy would allow and then some. “I’ve never…I’ve had anyone so… fuck…”

“Tell me, honey, please.” When you don’t immediately respond, he lifts his head to kiss you. “You can do it, beautiful.”

“I-I’ve never had anyone so deep.”

“Fuck, baby girl. Tell Daddy how you want me to make you cum again. Do you want it slow?”, he asks as he gradually pulls all the way back till it’s just his tip before thrusting back into you. “Or do you want it fast and hard?”

“Faster, please.”, you beg as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Eddie does what you ask, his head falling again as he roughly pounds into your cunt. Your fingers tangle in his hair and his own palm slides behind your back, holding you to him as your body trembles and your pussy squeezes him like a vice as you cum. 

“Shit…good, baby. Fuck, you choke my dick when you cum…so fucking tight…where do you want my cum, honey.”

“In-Inside, Eddie, please.”

He started to lift his head to make sure you were sure, but your hand kept him against your throat as you rolled your hips to meet his eliciting a loud grunt from him as his mouth fell open.

His whole frame collapsed on top of you as his pace faltered and you felt his release paint your walls. The strangled groan followed by his heavy pants were the sexiest things you had ever heard and as you lazily turned to look at his face his mouth was waiting. 

Compared to his other kisses, this one was much more tender. 

A soft kiss between two people who had known each other and been friends for a long time. When he pulled back, his chocolate eyes met your irises as his fingers caressed your cheek. 

After a few moments, he silently pulled out of you, kissing your forehead when you winced before crawling towards his glove box and rifling through it. 

“Shit. I thought I had tissues… Ok, um, let me grab some napkins real quick from inside and then…if you’re up to it…maybe we can go to the diner and have some dinner…talk?”

You nod, smiling as he fumbles with his own pants and belt while almost falling out of his van before catching himself on the door. 

“Fucking shit! Uh, I swear I’m more, uh, graceful than that…ok, I’ll be right back.”

################

Eddie was an absolute gentleman that night; taking you to dinner where you got to know him a bit better. Afterward, he drove you home and walked you to your door with a smile that you returned with a soft kiss. 

After closing your door, you looked through the peephole to find him beaming wide before throwing his hands in the air in victory and heading back to this car. 

You dreamt about his arms around you and thought about him all morning, the subtle soreness between your legs a constant reminder. 

“Hey. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you and I hope you’re feeling ok. I have to work tonight for a bit but maybe after I can call and we can talk?”

You smiled at his text before the realization hit you that his “work” was the website and he still had no idea you were one of the accounts he was talking to. As if to emphasis that a point, a notification flashed on your screen reminding you that you had a session scheduled with Eddie the Banished later that evening. 

Opening the computer, you sat there preparing your speech and apology, ready to tell him everything but when his face illuminated your screen it gave you pause. Before when you saw him online, he usual had on just sweats or boxers but this time he was wearing a long sleeve shirt with a Dio album on the front. 

Still donning black sweats, he had his hair pulled up and out of his face making you smile. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I hope it’s ok but I need your advice.”

“You want my advice?”

“Yeah. You seem incredibly smart and with our last conversation I know you’re easy to talk to.”

As Eddie grinned nervously, you couldn’t help but blush as your fingers flew along the keyboard.

“How can I help?”

“Ok, so I was playing my show last night and this girl…woman…I work with finally showed up to see me. I’ve been asking her for months to come and each time she said she couldn’t for one reason or another. Usually because she said she was ‘to old’.”, he laughs, rolling his eyes. “She’s not. She’s probably the same age as you since she’s a Millennial to but anyway… I loved seeing her come out of her shell, you know? She danced in her seat and headbanged; it was so fucking cute.”

As his smile grew at the thought you bit your bottom lip at the sight. 

“After the show, things got…intimate… and, um, so I guess my question is…how do I tell her about this?”, he asks as he gestures towards his computer and camera. “I don’t want her to think I’m like…a whore or something. I do this for the money because call centers pay their fucking employees jack shit. Add in the fact that I still kind of need to do it because my band and I are SO close to finishing this record but I don’t want her to be uncomfortable or feel like I’m cheating or something. I’m not my dad… I don’t fucking know…”

“Honey.”, you type as he covers his face with his palms. “Breathe. It’s ok. The fact that you’re even thinking of all this I’m sure will mean a lot to her. Eddie, I have to tell you something.”

“I just don’t want to lose her. No one has ever made me feel the way she does. At work I get a glimpse of what a relationship with her would be like and I love it. She’s so funny and sweet. Whenever she’s frustrated, her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk and she sighs like she wants to throw her computer out the window. When she smiles, the entire room lights up. She’s so beautiful, you have no idea.”

“Have you told her any of this?”

“Before last night I didn’t think I stood a chance. In my hometown, people don’t exactly like me. The Munson name carries a lot of weight because of my dad. He conned so many people here and add in the fact that I grew up in a trailer… they see me as trash. It would kill me if she saw me the same way. 

“No, Eddie. She would never think that.”

“Then she makes jokes a lot about her age and sometimes I get worried that she’d see me as like a kid or something. I’m highly aware that a man her own age could probably give her way more than I ever could but… I don’t know. Maybe if she can call me Daddy like she did…she can see me as someone who can take care of her because I will, honey. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Sounds like you already know what you have to do :). Just talk to her, baby. She… she may surprise you herself.”

“She surprised the hell out of me last night. When she called me Daddy, I almost fucking came in my jeans. I’m sorry. Don’t mean to be crude.”, he grins as he sticks out his tongue towards the camera. 

“It’s ok lol So it was good? The intimacy?”

Eddie’s gaze shifts off camera as his teeth drag along his bottom lip. 

“We’re friends right?”

“Of course.”

“It was the best I’ve ever had, Millennial. Fuck, her lips tasted amazing. I can only imagine what her pussy tastes like. Shit… It happened so fast I wasn’t able to take my time with her but next time… I’m going take her on a date Friday if she says yes. I want to take her to dinner and really make her feel special. She deserves that. Then I’m going to explore her gorgeous body till she’s begging me to stop.”

 Your thighs rubbed together at his words as that similar ache between your legs lit a fire in your belly. 

Without thinking about it, you grabbed your phone and texted his number. 

“Eddie when will you be free??”

Instantly, you heard vibration on his side of the stream and watched as he leaned forward to grab his device. As he smiled down at the screen, you felt your need for him rise as you watched his long, thick fingers fly along the phone’s keyboard. 

What is it about this man that has you feeling like this?

“I can be free now. Why? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just…”

“Do you think you could come over?”

“Hey, uh, Millennial, I have to go but I’ll keep you updated. Maybe next time you can give me your number and we can keep in touch. I may need more advice!”

Your brain is too foggy to register how that will be a problem later as you type out your goodbyes and he signs off. A moment later, another text from him comes through to your phone. 

“Yeah, I can be there in ten minutes. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I need Daddy.”

The three dots flash on you screen for a millisecond before he replies, “I’m on my way, baby.”

***

Eddie’s fist barely has a chance to knock before you’re opening your apartment door and tugging him inside by his collar, roughly bringing his lips to yours. 

“Ro-Roommate?”, he asks as his eyes briefly notice the two bedrooms. 

“Work…works…overnight…”, you answer between passionate kiss as you tug off his leather jacket and he lifts up your shirt tossing it aside. “Need you…please…”

“I got you, sweetheart. Daddy can take care of you.”

You practically melt into his embrace, backing him into the living room wall and yanking off his shirt so you could drag your lips down his chest as you start to descend to your knees before he grabs your arm.

“No, no, honey. I said Daddy is taking care of you.” With one swift turn he spun you around, placing his palm beside your head to steady himself. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Can I taste you, baby? 

Eddie smirks when you emphatically nod and places a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Can you say it?”, he whispers. “Tell me what you want.”

His eyes stay on yours as he slowly falls to his knees and his palms reach up to pull down your underwear till you were completely naked. While his lips gently pecked along your belly, your own hand reached out to pet his head. 

“I want you to feel your t-tongue in my pussy.”

As his smile grows, Eddie abruptly lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and dives into your cunt, doing what you requested. With every flick of the muscle between his teeth, you felt yourself falling deeper into euphoria. This metalhead definitely knew what he was doing and reveled in it as his tongue roamed. 

“Oh…Oh my God, Eddie. Just like that…” 

Your fingers pressed him harder against you and his moan vibrated through you at the sensation. As he picked up his pace, his mouth overwhelmed you as he sucked and made out with your clit till he felt your body quiver as you came. 

Rising to his feet, you circled your arms around his neck as he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you trying to elongate your high. 

“I knew it. I knew you tasted like fucking heaven. Fuck, such a good girl.”

After pushing down his sweats, you licked your palm and wrapped it around his girth, his glassy eyes fluttering at the feeling. 

Eddie’s free hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could see your face. 

“Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, pretty girl. I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard on my cock. Goddamn, I keep thinking about how tight your little pussy gets when she cums. Fuck, baby, you drive me crazy.”

You suddenly let him go as your hand flew down to grab his wrist trying to push him away as you whined.

“No, no, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. Daddy’s got you. Give in to it. I’m right here.” At his murmured words, you continued to cling to him as your hips rolled against his fingers. “Atta girl. I know, I know. Cum again for Daddy, baby.”

A string of uhs left your lips as his eyes remained glued to your face and your nails dug into his skin as the coil snapped. 

“Goddamn, you are so fucking sexy.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as his mouth latched onto your neck and you carefully guided him to your bedroom while tried to stumble out of his pants. 

“Motherfuck—I swear I can walk.”, he jokes as you both fall naked onto your bed. 

“Well, only if your pants are on correctly.”

Eddie laughs as he pushes up on his forearms to look down at your beaming features. Your index finger gradually extends to caress his cheek and along his chin, grazing the light stubble that clung to his skin. 

“You’re handsome.”

At your compliment, his jaw flexes as he tries to contain the obnoxiously huge smile that wants to stretch from ear to ear at your adorable tone. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I mean it. I always thought you were.”

“Yeah?” You nod, biting your bottom lip to contain your own smile. “You want to know a secret?”

“Hm?”

Eddie crawls a bit further up your frame, gently kissing your jawline till he finds the shell of your ear. 

“I always thought you were beautiful to, baby.”

Utilizing his knee, he pushes your legs further apart as he grinds his cock between your dripping pussy lips but before he could guide himself inside of you, your hand lightly pushed on his hip as you gently pulled his hair. 

His face flooded with concern as his eyes scanned you over. 

“I want to see your face this time, Daddy…Please…”

A relieved chuckle left him; thankful you were ok. 

“You’re going to kill me, honey.”

Licking his lips, you watch as Eddie’s eyes momentarily shifted to the void as he reached between your bodies and pressed his mushroom tip to your entrance. When his irises found yours again, he brought his arm back around and tenderly petted your head as he slowly thrust his cock inch by inch. 

“You’re doing good, baby girl…taking me so he well.”, he praised when he noticed your eyebrows twitch in what appeared to be pain. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Do you need me to go slower?”

“No…No, Daddy. You’re… you’re just…”

“Yeah? Just what, princess?”

“You’re so big.”

“I know, baby, I know but you’re doing so good. I’m almost all the way in.”

“Y-You can…you can go harder…you d-don’t have to be so—fuck—gentle.”

Eddie stops moving for a moment as he smirks down at you before suddenly smacking his hips into yours eliciting a loud moan from deep within you. 

“Like that?”, he teases as he pounds into you again. “I told you…Daddy’s got you.”

Finding a faster rhythm, he kept his intensity as he repeatedly abuses that sensitive, spongy spot deep within you that has your mind reeling. 

Pushing upright onto his knees, the metalhead pressed your thighs flat into the mattress as he watched himself disappear inside your cunt. 

“Shit—your pussy feels too fucking good. Cum again, Y/N. Cum on Daddy’s dick, baby.”

“Something…something’s different…”

Eddie slows for a fraction of a second before he realizes what’s about to happen. 

He sees it all over you scrunched face. 

Licking his thumb, he presses it to your clit as he keeps a steady pace. Again, your hand tries to grab at his wrist but he’s much stronger than you as your movements don’t deter him. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. Daddy’s right here, baby. Just let it happen.”

A wave of pleasure stronger than you had ever experienced before washes over you as the ball in your tummy drops and you scream his name. 

“Atta girl! Fuck, Y/N.”, he groans, his thrusts faltering as he pumps his release deep inside you. “Fuck…it’s ok…you’re ok.”, he pants. “I’ve…I’ve never made a girl squirt before.”

It took him a moment but it was only then that he realized you were crying. 

“Hey. Hey, hey, what’s wrong, baby. Talk to me.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you hug him and he continues to try and comfort you. “Everything’s alright, Y/N.”

“I-I-I’ve never done that before. I…ruined the moment…”

“Oh, honey, no. No, you didn’t ruin anything.”, Eddie cooed as he moved back to allow you to sit up and he could wipe your eyes with his thumbs. “What just happened was incredibly fucking hot.”

“It was?”

“Yeah, beautiful girl, it was. I’m honored to be the first guy to make you cum hard like that. I mean…of course being your husband only IIII can do that…”

At his joke, you laugh as you reach out to lightly hit his bicep as he giggles along with you. 

“How about this? Let’s get you into a bath and all clean, then I can change the sheets and get you in some nice comfy pajamas.”

“Will…will you lay with me after?”

Caressing your cheek, he leans towards you to gently kiss your lips. 

“Of course.”

After your bath, Eddie gave you some alone time to complete any needs you felt you needed to complete before bed and as soon as you were done, you stepped out of your bathroom to find him just finishing making the bed.

“I hope this is alright. I found these sheets in a closet in the hallway.”

“These are actually my roommates.”

“Oh… well…sheet.”, he jests, smiling when you breathy laugh. “Sorry, bad joke.”

“I like it.”

Stepping towards him, you grab his arm and push him under the covers so you could curl up into his side. Lifting his arm, he circles it around your shoulder and you pleasantly sigh as he plays with your hair. 

“At some point, sweetheart, we’re going to have to talk about this…us…”

“Is that bad?”

“No, fuck, I made it sound like it was going to be. I just…there’s some things I need you to know…about me…my life—”

Your palm cuts him off as your eyes meet his. 

“Later. Tonight, I just want to be close to you like this.”

“Yeah…”, he sighs before craning his neck to kiss your forehead. “Me to.”

###################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @twirls827 @micheledawn1975 @chelebelletx @hardladyheart @spiderxbatty @twirls827

[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 ♥

[servndipityz]

Hii! I wanted to request a Nam-gyu x reader smut story where it's Obviously Readers first time at a club despite only being a year or two younger than him. Maybe with the reader being a virgin too? I can't get this idea out my head 🙏 Rest is up to you, thank you so much<3

a/n ── hope you like it! absolutely loved the idea :)

CLOSER

warnings ── SMUT! MDNI, takes place after the games (don't ask me how they got out lmao i just know that they're alive and happy), porn v plot, p in v, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, virginity loss, corruption kink kinda? oral (f receiving)

word count ── 8k

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a month. a month and a half, if nam-gyu was being precise. but who’s counting?

it had been a month and a half since they’d gotten out of those fucking games. a month and a half since he’d started to get to know you better.

and more than a month and a half since nam-gyu had had sex. but who’s counting?

as shitty as his old life was, he couldn’t have been happier to have it back. promoting club pentagon again, getting high every weekend, slipping right back into his little trashy life.

plus, now he had something he didn’t have before. you.

he’d met you there, in the games, and he’d been doomed from then on. it was a strange sort of thing, really. nam-gyu was never the type to feel things. at first, he actually thought he’d caught the flu. then he figured it was just some kind of ptsd after the games—which, to be fair, he definitely had, but that was a whole other thing. but no, the tingling in his fingertips whenever he touched you, the stupid flip his stomach did when you talked... that wasn’t a mental disorder, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was.

he’d never felt that way about a girl before. almost... caring. maybe it was more than caring, but he’d never admit it. anyway, you and him were in some kind of limbo. you weren’t something, but you weren’t nothing either. you hung out multiple times a week, texted semi-regularly, and had messy make-out sessions more times than he could count—but less than he would’ve liked. never more than making out, though. and yeah, that thought crossed his mind sometimes. he wasn’t an expert on these things, but he’d taken girls to bed for much less.

you always seemed to stop things right before they got too intense, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. having to beat his meat every time after hanging out with you wasn’t exactly fun. but somehow, you seemed worth it. so he, the most impatient man in the world, had decided to be patient. for once.

anyway, even though he knew you weren’t really used to clubs, he figured he’d invite you to club pentagon. he wanted you to have a fun time, see where he worked, see how his life was before the games. he wanted you to let loose a little.

"thanos will be there, it'll be fun," he’d said, and it hadn’t taken much to convince you.

so there you were, the cold biting at your legs in your short skirt, gripping your purse tight as you eyed the long line of people waiting to get in. then, skipping it—feeling very glamorous all of a sudden.

"i'm, uh, friends with nam-gyu," you said, the words coming out almost like a question as the bouncer looked you up and down. you gave your name, and after a moment, he finally spotted you on the list, letting you in without much fuss.

as you stepped into the club, you were almost left in awe. you'd never really liked clubs—not really. when all your friends started partying, you gave it a shot before deciding you preferred a more chill vibe. getting drunk with friends, sharing a blunt, that sort of thing. but then again, the shitty clubs your friends dragged you to in your teenage years couldn’t compare to club pentagon.

several stories high, you could barely make out the ceiling. lights of different hues illuminated the space, smoke spilling from canisters, the bass-heavy music pulsing from a dj booth stationed at the center of the main floor. to say it was packed was an understatement, and you didn’t wonder why. the place was incredible.

you looked around, suddenly awkward. what now? what were you supposed to do? where were you supposed to go? how—

"nam-gyu!" you called out, spotting him weaving through the crowd toward you. he glanced up at you, nodding in greeting. kept it cool. he always kept it cool.

nam-gyu wasn’t expecting you to look this good. which, in hindsight, was a mistake.

your hands found their place on his shoulders before you even thought about it, familiar but not entirely effortless. still getting used to this. to him. to the way he let you in but only just enough.

"you came." he smirked slightly. his hand found your waist without thinking, the fabric of your shirt soft beneath his fingers. he barely had time to process it before you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. barely there. almost shy.

you weren’t used to that either. you pulled away just as quickly, catching the way nam-gyu’s dark eyes flickered over you before he schooled his expression into something more detached. not detached enough, though. the way his thumb ghosted over your side told another story. he was playing it cool. always.

"this place is super cool," you said, spinning slightly to take it all in.

the music pulsed, deep and low, the bass rattling the floor beneath you. the air smelled like expensive liquor and cheap cologne, bodies pressing close under flashing lights.

nam-gyu scoffed, pleased despite himself. "yeah?" he chuckled, tilting his head at you, his expression settling into something smug. "c'mon, i’ll show you the vip section."

and of course, you let him.

he led you through the club, already losing track of its winding paths, but nam-gyu moved like he owned the place. and he liked it—you could see he liked it. guiding you like he held any real power, his hand still pressed firmly to your lower waist as he did so. he liked being the one guiding you, showing you his world like it meant something. like he meant something here. and maybe he did. maybe you saw it too.

"look who it is!"

the voice cut through the air just before you reached the top of the short staircase. thanos. loud as ever, his grin splitting his face as he all but threw himself up from the couch. the two girls draped over him barely had time to react before he pulled away, arms open wide as he closed the distance between you.

you barely had time to brace yourself before he engulfed you in a hug, laughter rumbling from his chest. the scent of cologne and alcohol clung to him, heavy and overfamiliar, like he had been here for hours.

"damn, lookin' good!" he said as he pulled away, giving you a quick once-over—no real interest behind it, but enough to make you giggle.

it really was crazy how being stuck in some life-or-death games could make people this close in such a short time.

"okay, chill." nam-gyu rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile on his lips, his hand never leaving your waist.

thanos ignored him. "have a seat, señorita." he gestured toward the black leather couch, and you, along with nam-gyu, walked over to sit down. thanos dropped back into his seat, slinging his arms around the two girls, who seemed more than happy about it.

you ordered a drink as soon as you saw an opening, your nerves slowly starting to settle. though, judging by the weird looks you got for passing on the white powder on the table and the little bags of funky-colored pills, not everyone was on the same page.

there were other people you didn’t recognize lounging on the couches—probably some of nam-gyu’s friends or co-workers. thanos started rattling off introductions, including the girls, and as the alcohol finally started running through your veins, you felt yourself relaxing, settling into the atmosphere a little more.

you weren't sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your limbs, making everything feel just a little bit softer. the music vibrated through your chest, the flashing lights casting shifting colors over the VIP lounge, and you were beginning to understand why nam-gyu liked this place so much. it was loud, chaotic, a little grimy—but undeniably alive.

"you good?" nam-gyu leaned in, voice low against your ear. his breath was warm, his hand sliding from your waist to rest on your thigh, fingers pressing absentminded circles into your skin.

"mhm," you hummed, tilting your head toward him. "it’s actually kinda fun."

"yeah?" he smirked, like he knew he'd be right all along. of course he did. "told you."

his hand squeezed your thigh lightly before retreating, but not before dragging his fingers a little too slow against your skin. you rolled your eyes, but you didn't move away.

"hey, hey!" thanos suddenly called out, raising his arms to make sure everyone was listening. "how about we play a game?"

some people groaned, others laughed. a game?

"what game?" someone asked. thanos smirked, clearly pleased that he had everyone's attention.

"never have i ever," he said, his grin widening as more groans followed.

"aren't we a little too old for that?" you asked, smirking like the idea amused you.

"i'm not." he shrugged. "are you girls?" he leaned back, and both girls shook their heads vigorously.

you turned to nam-gyu, who seemed more interested in watching you than the conversation. your cheeks warmed when you caught him staring.

"wanna play?" you asked. he just shrugged. he wasn’t really into these kinds of games—he wasn’t into any games, really—but he didn’t care enough to argue. whatever passed the time.

eventually, everyone gathered around the table, all eyes on thanos as he ordered a round of the strongest drink he could think of for everyone.

the first few rounds were harmless enough. “never have i ever gotten a secret tattoo.” “never have i ever been arrested.” stupid things. you sipped your drink when necessary, laughing at some of the stories that followed, the warmth of the alcohol sinking deeper into your skin. nam-gyu barely participated, only taking a sip when he absolutely had to, but his hand had found its way back to your thigh, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against your skin.

then the questions started shifting.

"never have i ever hooked up in a club," one of thanos’ girls said, grinning like she already knew the answer for most people here. a bunch of hands reached for their drinks, nam-gyu included. you hesitated just a second too long before passing. his eyes flicked toward you, but he didn’t say anything.

the next one wasn’t any better.

"never have i ever had a one-night stand," some guy threw out. almost everyone drank. except you. you felt it before you even looked—nam-gyu was watching. his fingers stilled against your thigh for half a second before they resumed their lazy tapping, like he was processing something.

it wasn’t weird, not really. plenty of people hadn’t had one-night stands before. but it was the way you hesitated every time, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed.

"never have i ever had sex in a public place," thanos threw in, laughing when half the group groaned.

nam-gyu took a sip. you didn’t.

you looked up at nam-gyu, meeting his gaze for just a second too long. you knew what he was thinking. knew he was piecing it together. maybe he’d already suspected—maybe he already knew—but this was confirmation, wasn’t it?

"wait," thanos interrupted, a slight crack in his voice from how drunk he was. "you're cheating!" he pointed at you.

"what? i'm not." you frowned, confused as everyone turned to look.

"c’mon, your glass is almost full. you haven't been drinking."

he wasn’t wrong. sure, you’d taken your fair share of gulps, but considering most people were on their second drink—some even on their third—it was true.

a flicker of anxiety crept in, the alcohol in your system making you let out a stupid giggle. "i'm not cheating," you shrugged shyly.

"she hasn’t been drinking on the sex ones. i've seen it."

your smile vanished completely. one of the girls next to thanos had spoken, but it was nam-gyu you worried about. you’d caught him noticing earlier, but you kind of hoped he wouldn’t actually put the pieces together.

hoped he wouldn’t realize you were a virgin.

but now, with everyone watching, you were running out of luck.

"yeah, because... because i haven't done some of those things."

it was normal, you told yourself. being a virgin. the right time had never come, and you weren’t about to give it up for some scumbag at a club. you knew you shouldn’t be ashamed. but this? definitely not something you wanted everyone to know.

"what?" some guy blurted out, brows furrowed. "those were easy. you're telling me you never had a one-night stand?"

you pressed your lips together awkwardly. what did he expect you to say?

meanwhile, nam-gyu hadn't stopped watching you, his hand—resting on your leg—now completely still.

it was driving you nuts.

but as you looked over at thanos, you knew it was definitely over for you. a slow smile crept onto his previously confused expression as realization dawned. "holy shit, you're a virgin!"

your stomach twisted. a hot wave of embarrassment rushed up your neck, burning under the weight of every pair of eyes on you.

"what? no," you scoffed, trying for casual, but it came out a little too forced, a little too breathless.

thanos’ grin stretched wider. he could smell bullshit from a mile away. "oh, come on," he laughed, leaning forward like he was about to drag this out, like he was about to make it a thing.

panic prickled at the edges of your brain. you needed to get out of here. fast.

your phone. yes. a perfect excuse. you yanked it out of your bag, squinting at the screen like you’d just received the most urgent message of your life. "shit," you muttered. "i gotta go."

you were already pushing up from your seat before anyone could react. nam-gyu's hand slid off your thigh, his fingers barely catching against your skin before falling away completely.

"wait—what? already?"

"yeah, sorry," you said quickly, grabbing your coat, your bag, whatever you needed just to make a clean escape. "totally forgot i had something early tomorrow. can’t stay."

someone called after you. maybe thanos. maybe one of the girls. you weren’t sure. you weren’t listening. you were already weaving through the crowd, heart hammering, barely remembering to toss a quick "bye!" over your shoulder before the club swallowed you whole.

still sitting on the couch, nam-gyu's mind was spinning, and he was barely even drunk.

of course you were a virgin.

it all made sense now. the way you looked at him sometimes, the hesitation, the way you could go from teasing to flustered in seconds. the way you pulled back like you weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t. and maybe he should’ve known, maybe it was obvious, but somehow, it still caught him off guard.

he hazily glanced toward where you'd just left, the rest of the crowd still laughing and talking around him.

nam-gyu wasn’t the type to walk girls home.

but then again, he also wasn’t the type to like girls.

so he did the only thing that made sense—he downed the rest of his drink, got up without bothering to say goodbye, and pushed his way through the club.

it was late. the streets were dangerous. he didn’t want you to die or whatever.

when he finally stepped out, the streets were dark, damp from earlier rain, and the air was sharp against his skin. he scanned the sidewalk, found you a few blocks ahead. you were walking fast, arms tucked close, head slightly down.

he hated this. hated how he cared. hated how natural it felt to push through the lingering crowd, to break into an easy jog—casual enough to not look stupid, but fast enough to close the distance. he just hoped everyone else was too drunk to remember him, of all people, running after someone.

“hey!” he called out once he was just a few steps behind you.

you turned at the sound of his voice, startled.

he caught the flicker of something on your face before you wiped it away—too fast, too practiced. a tear.

“nam-gyu?” you asked, confusion in your voice. “what—”

“i’ll walk you home.” he shrugged, casual, like it was no big deal. like it was just something to do. he shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he caught up to you, his face carefully neutral.

you gulped. the last thing you wanted was to be around him right now.

“okay.” you trailed off, unsure of what else to say. how had it come to this? you’d survived hell together, yet suddenly, everything was so awkward. he wondered the same thing as he walked beside you, lighting up a cigarette.

you felt bad. it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it. a million times, actually. nam-gyu seemed so experienced, so mature, and you were just… a virgin. all those times you’d stopped things before they got too heated, all those times you’d held yourself back.

you weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend. you didn’t want to burden him with the responsibility of taking your virginity. it was stupid, but you knew how men felt about it. they didn’t want some little girl who didn’t know what she was doing. they didn’t want to deal with it.

so ever since the games, ever since you two had started… whatever this was, you’d felt like you were leading him on. you knew you couldn’t keep it up forever. sooner or later, he’d find out and leave. you just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

after a whole block in silence, he finally spoke.

"so you're a virgin?" nam-gyu blurted out, though he already knew the answer.

it wasn’t a judgment, just an observation—dry, matter-of-fact. he took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the dim light before fading into the night air.

you cursed under your breath, shutting your eyes like that might somehow erase the last ten minutes of existence. as if not seeing him would make this less mortifying.

“…yeah.” the word barely made it past your lips, your voice low, hesitant.

when you finally risked a glance at him, he wasn’t even looking at you. his gaze was fixed on the cracked pavement, the faintest furrow in his brow betraying some kind of thought process.

you sighed, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “i know it sucks. i’m sorry for not telling you, but it’s not exactly something that comes up after almost dying multiple times playing kids’ games! like—hey, i know we just survived the most traumatic experience of our lives, but by the way, i’m a fucking vir—”

"'s fine."

the words were abrupt, cutting your rambling off before you could spiral any further.

you blinked, arms falling to your sides as you realized you’d been gesturing wildly, like that might somehow defend your own inexperience. meanwhile, nam-gyu just kept walking, cigarette perched between his fingers, deep in thought.

"really? you're fine with it?" you asked.

the truth was, nam-gyu wasn’t exactly thrilled.

it wasn’t even about you being a virgin, not really. it was the fact that he’d thought about fucking you ever since the games. which was humiliating enough to admit to himself. a man had his needs, after all. but once again, he found himself in the unfortunate position of giving a shit.

he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"…yeah." his voice was low, clipped. he wasn't mad—just thinking. weighing his options. where would this leave you?

he hated himself for liking you this much. not being an asshole was unfamiliar territory.

"if you don’t wanna have sex, i understand," he added after a beat.

you widened your eyes. "no, no!" you rushed out. "i do wanna have sex."

his brain stalled.

you swallowed, hesitating as he watched you, gaze steady but sharp, like he was trying to read between the lines. you shifted, tucking your hands into your sleeves. "i've just… never done it. and i don’t know… i didn’t wanna bother you or… anything."

it sounded beyond awkward.

nam-gyu frowned, processing. not because he thought anything bad about it—just because it never occurred to him. he’d assumed you weren’t interested in having sex at all, or that you were waiting for some deep, poetic reason, for someone that wasn't nam-gyu. but now you were here, telling him this, cheeks burning, voice all soft and uncertain.

and now he had to keep his shit together.

"so… you want me to, like…" his dick twitched in his pants, betraying him immediately. no way this was happening.

"i mean—only if you want to…" your cheeks were burning, you were sure of that now. you felt like a teenager talking to her crush.

if he wanted to? his jaw went slack for a second, a breath slipping out as he stared at you. it was barely a question.

"fuck yeah, i want to," he let out, low and firm, like he needed you to understand.

something shifted then. the air got tighter, the weight of the moment settling between you. you bit your lip, eyes flickering over his face like you were still trying to wrap your head around this. then, slowly, a smile crept onto your lips—breathless, nervous, electric.

"okay." you let out a shaky little laugh, grabbing his wrist. your grip was warm, solid, like you’d made up your mind and there was no going back now. "okay, let’s go."

nam-gyu nodded, following your lead, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked up the pace. your apartment wasn’t that far.

the apartment was quiet when you stumbled in, breathless, a little drunk, and buzzing with something you didn’t quite know how to name. nam-gyu followed, the door clicking shut behind him as he leaned back against it for a second, exhaling like he was trying to steady himself.

the air between you was thick, charged with a long time of yearning. your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you toed off your shoes, glancing over at him. he was watching you, the way he always did—like he was already thinking ten steps ahead, figuring out how this was going to play out.

he hadn’t touched you yet. he was letting you decide.

so you did.

you took a step closer, then another, until you were right in front of him, your fingers hesitating before curling around the hem of his jacket. his breath hitched, just barely, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

you pushed up onto your toes, closing the space between you. his lips were warm, the taste of smoke lingering faintly as he kissed you back. he let you set the pace, his hands coming to rest lightly on your waist, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your dress.

it wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but something about this was different. more urgent. more deliberate. maybe because, for once, there was no stopping this time.

your fingers tugged at his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. he let it fall to the floor, his hands finally pressing into you properly, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. a quiet sound slipped from your lips, and you felt the way he stiffened at that, his grip tightening.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice rough. he pulled back just enough to search your face, his dark eyes flicking between yours. “you sure?”

you nodded, chest rising and falling with each breath. “yeah.”

a muscle in his jaw twitched. his fingers brushed the side of your neck, then curled around it, his thumb ghosting over your pulse. “we stop if you change your mind.”

you swallowed. “i won’t.”

the look he gave you was unreadable—something dark and determined—before he tilted your chin up, kissing you deeper this time, slower, like he wanted to make sure you felt every second of it.

nam-gyu wasn’t soft—he wasn’t sweet. he wasn’t the kind of man to whisper tender nothings or stroke your hair. he didn’t coddle. but the way his hands moved told you everything you needed to know.

the drag of his fingers down your spine. the slow, deliberate way his palm flattened against the small of your back, pressing you flush against him. the heat in his touch, like he was holding himself back, forcing himself to move slow, to let you set the pace. it sent a shiver through you, and his grip tightened in response, like he felt it too.

you let out a breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and he exhaled sharply against your lips before pulling back just a fraction, enough to look at you properly. his dark eyes roamed over your face, pupils blown, jaw tight.

"you're nervous." it wasn't a question.

you swallowed. "a little."

his thumb brushed against your waist, almost absentmindedly. "yeah. that makes sense."

you let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was an edge of vulnerability to it. he could see it. you could tell.

he tilted his head, watching you like he was trying to figure something out. then he exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing over your skin with a gentleness that was completely at odds with the sharp, rough way he usually carried himself.

"you know i won’t fuck this up, right?" his voice was low, almost casual, but there was something else beneath it. something steadier.

you hesitated for half a second before nodding. "i know." and you did. maybe that was why you'd never let anyone else touch you like this before. because it wasn’t about inexperience, not really. it was about trust.

and god help you, but you trusted nam-gyu.

the realization sent a flush through you, warmth blooming in your stomach as you let your hands slide up his abdomen, tracing the firm lines of chest beneath his shirt. his breath hitched just barely before his fingers flexed against you, like he was restraining himself from just taking.

"you wanna do this?" he asked, one last time, voice rough.

"yeah," you breathed.

his jaw clenched. "then tell me what you want."

you blinked up at him, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he'd stopped moving, waiting, his hands resting heavy against your hips but not pulling, not pushing.

he was making you say it.

bastard.

you bit your lip, pulse hammering as you tried to work around the knot of tension in your throat. "i—i want you to touch me."

his fingers twitched, his entire body going still for a second. then he let out a breath through his nose, and his grip on your waist tightened.

"yeah?" his voice was just a little lower, a little rougher.

you nodded, heat pooling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you now—like he was barely keeping himself in check.

"get on the bed," he said.

your breath caught.

for a moment, you just stared at him, heart hammering, and then, slowly, you walked to your bedroom, him following you close. you backed up toward the bed, your knees hitting the edge as you lowered yourself down.

he followed, standing at the foot of the bed, watching you with that unreadable expression—half lustful, half like he couldn’t believe this was real. his hands went to his belt, and your eyes flickered down, pulse spiking at the sound of the leather slipping through the loops.

then, instead of undressing fully, he leaned down, hands bracketing your hips, pressing you back against the mattress.

"you ever let anyone touch you like this?" his voice was rough, like he already knew the answer.

you shook your head, breathless. "no."

a low sound escaped him, something dark, something pleased. his hands slipped under your skirt, palms dragging slow over your thighs as he pushed the fabric up. he took his time, tracing the shape of you, pressing just firmly enough to make you squirm.

"you thought about it, though," he murmured. it wasn’t a question. his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin at the tops of your thighs, eyes locked onto yours.

you swallowed hard. "…yeah."

his lips twitched, almost a smirk. "yeah? thought about me?"

your face burned. he was being cruel on purpose, making you say it.

"…yes."

"fuck," he muttered, like the confirmation did something to him. his hands moved higher, fingers hooking into the band of your underwear, but instead of pulling them down, he let them rest there, teasing.

"how’d you think it’d go?" his voice was lower now, almost a growl. "thought i'd just take you fast, rough? pin you down, fuck the innocence out of you?"

you sucked in a sharp breath, thighs twitching beneath his touch. he huffed a quiet laugh.

"bet you didn't think i'd take my time," he murmured, leaning down, pressing his mouth to the side of your neck. his lips dragged over your pulse, then lower, leaving a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your collarbone. "but i like knowing i'm the first one."

you gasped softly as his hands finally moved, slipping under your top, dragging it up inch by inch until he could pull it over your head. your arms instinctively came up to cover yourself, but he caught your wrists, pushing them aside.

"none of that," he muttered, his gaze dropping to your bare chest. he exhaled sharply, running his thumbs along the curve of your breasts before cupping them fully, testing the weight in his palms.

"fuck, look at you," he muttered, voice low and reverent. "so fucking pretty."

you whimpered as his thumbs brushed over your nipples in slow circles. he watched your face the whole time, reading every tiny reaction, every sharp intake of breath.

"sensitive," he noted, almost to himself. then he leaned down, tongue flicking over one peak before wrapping his lips around it, sucking just enough to make you gasp.

heat coiled low in your stomach as he worked, alternating between each breast, slow and thorough. it was overwhelming, the way he was handling you—not rough, not rushed, just taking his time, learning every inch of you.

one of his hands trailed lower, down your stomach, to the waistband of your panties. he paused, looking up at you, waiting.

you nodded, exhaling shakily. "please."

his smirk deepened. "good girl."

he peeled your panties down your legs, his fingers skimming over your skin like he was savoring the moment. you shivered at the sensation, at the weight of his gaze as he settled between your thighs.

“fuck,” nam-gyu muttered under his breath, like he hadn’t been prepared for what he was seeing. his hands splayed against your inner thighs, pressing them further apart, baring you completely to him. he didn’t look away, eyes dark and hungry, his tongue running over his bottom lip like he could already taste you.

your body burned under the scrutiny. you weren’t used to this—being seen like this, having someone take their time looking. you twitched, about to press your legs together, but his grip tightened.

“uh-uh,” he murmured, almost amused. “you’re gonna let me look.”

you swallowed hard, breath catching as he leaned in, his nose brushing the soft skin of your inner thigh. his breath was hot, sending a shiver through you as he exhaled, slow and controlled.

he dragged a single finger up the length of your slit, just enough to make you jolt, to make your breath stutter. "you're soaked, girl. you sure you've never done this before?"

heat surged through you at the teasing lilt in his voice, and you let out a shaky breath. "i—fuck, nam-gyu—"

"yeah?" he smirked, but it wasn’t cocky. it was something else, something almost fascinated. like he was enjoying this in a way he hadn’t expected.

his fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your clit, barely any pressure, just enough to make you whimper. your hips twitched, and his grip tightened, keeping you pinned.

"relax," he murmured, his voice low, almost gentle. "let me make you feel good."

then he leaned down.

you barely had time to register the shift before his tongue was on you, warm and wet and unbearably slow. your breath caught, your fingers twisting into the sheets as his mouth worked you open, his tongue dragging through your folds, lazy and thorough.

"fuck," he muttered against you, his voice rough. "you taste so fucking sweet."

the way he said it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach. his hands pressed into your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open as he ate you like he had all the time in the world.

it was overwhelming—the way he was licking you, slow and deep, like he was savoring it. like he was getting off on this just as much as you were. his nose brushed against your clit with every stroke of his tongue, and it was too much, not enough, all at once.

your back arched, a desperate sound slipping from your lips. he groaned low in his throat, the vibration sending a shudder through you. "that's it," he murmured, his voice almost slurred against your skin. "let me hear you."

one of his hands slid up, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles as he pressed his mouth lower, flicking his tongue against your entrance, teasing the edge.

"nam-gyu—" your voice broke on his name, breathless and desperate, and his grip tightened.

"fuck, you sound good," he muttered. his tongue pushed inside you, and the sensation sent a sharp bolt of pleasure up your spine, made your thighs shake.

"think you can take me?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "gotta get you ready for me."

you gasped as he pushed a finger inside, slow and steady, curling it just right. he groaned at the way you clenched around him, his tongue lapping up every reaction, every sound.

"shit," he muttered. "so tight. gonna feel so fucking good."

the words alone made your stomach tighten, the heat coiling low, winding tighter and tighter. he added a second finger, stretching you open, thrusting slow, deep, his tongue still working your clit.

it was too much. the pressure built fast, overwhelming, unbearable. your thighs trembled around his head, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"i—" your breath hitched, your body tensing.

he growled low in his throat, his fingers pressing deep, his tongue flicking faster, relentless. "come for me."

and you did.

the pleasure hit hard, shattering through you, knocking the air from your lungs. your back arched, your body tightening around his fingers, and he groaned against you, drinking in every last tremor, working you through it, drawing it out until you were shaking beneath him, gasping for breath.

only then did he finally pull back, his breath ragged, his lips slick and swollen. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark, almost feverish as he looked at you.

"fuck," he muttered, voice rough, almost awed.

he climbed up over you, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, then your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. his hands framed your face, thumbs brushing against your skin, steadying you.

his exhale was sharp, controlled, but his grip on your waist betrayed him—fingers digging in, like he had to hold himself back from wrecking you completely. his forehead dropped to yours for half a second, just long enough for you to feel the way his breath came heavy, ragged.

"you're gonna kill me," he muttered, half a groan, half a laugh, before he pulled back, eyes flicking down your body—like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. his fingers traced your thigh absentmindedly, like he still couldn't believe you were letting him touch you.

then he sat back, unbuttoning his jeans.

your breath hitched as you watched him work, his knuckles going white with how tightly he was gripping his belt. the leather slid through the loops with a sharp snap, and your thighs pressed together instinctively at the sound. his lips curled slightly—he noticed.

"don't get shy on me now," he murmured, voice thick with amusement, but he wasn't smirking anymore. no, his expression was darker, sharper. his fingers moved with slow, measured precision as he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself.

your stomach flipped.

you had no idea what you'd been expecting, but whatever it was—it wasn't this. he was…big. thick. a flush creeping up his shaft, his tip swollen and slick with arousal. you stared, suddenly feeling very aware of your own inexperience, of the way your body still trembled faintly from the orgasm he'd just given you.

nam-gyu noticed.

"yeah?" his voice was rough, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something dangerously satisfied. his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, giving it a slow, lazy stroke, like he was savoring the moment. "that nervous?"

you swallowed hard, forcing your eyes back to his face. he looked wrecked, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. his chest rose and fell heavily, like it was taking effort not to just pin you down and take—

"i can take it," you said, before you could second-guess yourself. your voice was breathless but steady, your chin tilting up just slightly in challenge.

his jaw locked.

for a second, he just looked at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, like he was seeing you—really seeing you—for the first time. then, suddenly, his grip on your waist tightened, dragging you down the mattress until your thighs framed his hips.

"yeah," he murmured, almost to himself. his hand brushed over your stomach, your hip, sliding back down between your legs. his fingers traced your entrance, feeling the way you were still soaked for him. "i think you can, too."

your breath stuttered as he pressed two fingers inside you again, stretching you open. his thumb found your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles—not enough to push you over, just enough to make your breath hitch.

"nam-gyu—" you gasped, hips twitching under his touch.

his free hand came up, catching your chin, tilting your head so you had to look at him. his eyes were dark, blown out with something almost ravenous.

"you still sure?" he murmured, voice low. "tell me you want it."

your pulse pounded.

you could feel how badly he wanted you, how much effort it was taking for him to hold back. and yet—he still gave you the choice. he was still waiting.

your heart clenched.

"yes," you whispered. "please."

his restraint snapped.

the second your lips formed that word, he was on you—pulling his fingers from your slick heat, gripping himself, pressing the thick, flushed head of his cock right against your entrance. he didn't push in. not yet. instead, he rocked against you, rubbing his length along your slit, smearing himself in your wetness, letting you feel every ridge, every inch of his size before he even tried to fit.

your breath hitched. your nails dug deep into his forearms, your body instinctively tensing.

"relax," he murmured, voice tight, nearly hoarse, like he was fighting against the instinct to just take. his free hand smoothed up your thigh, over the curve of your waist, warm, steady, grounding. "breathe."

you tried. you really did. forced your lungs to expand, to exhale, to let go of the tension gripping your muscles. but the second he started to push in, all that breath stuttered out in a sharp, broken gasp.

it was too much. the stretch, the slow, inch-by-inch burn as his cock forced your body to open around him, to take him. a kind of ache you’d never felt before, raw and overwhelming—too much and not enough, like your body was fighting him even as it craved more.

"fuck," he gritted out, his jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscle jump. his hands flexed against your skin, his entire body trembling with restraint. "jesus, baby—you're so fucking tight—"

your stomach flipped at the words, heat pooling deep in your core. he never talked to you like that. never called you things like that. but now, here he was, panting above you, voice wrecked and reverent, murmuring praise like he couldn’t help it.

after a few seconds, you whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders. "more."

his control broke.

he pushed in, slow but deep, a smooth, deliberate thrust that seated him all the way inside you in one stroke. your breath tore from your lungs, your back arching as the stretch bloomed into something fuller, hotter, the ache curling into something dangerously close to pleasure.

nam-gyu groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "holy fuck," he rasped, voice wrecked, almost pained. his fingers dug into your hips, like he was holding on for dear life. "so fucking good—you're so tight, so perfect, fuck—"

your pulse pounded in your throat, your entire body thrumming with sensation. there was still a burn, still that overwhelming fullness, but beneath it was something else—something deeper, something good.

you shifted your hips, testing, trying to ease the pressure.

his entire body locked up.

"don't—" his voice was strangled, desperate. his hands tightened, pinning you down. "don't fucking move, or i’m gonna lose it."

every muscle in his body was taut, locked, like a predator barely holding back from sinking its teeth in. his fingers bit into your hips, warning you, anchoring himself—but you could feel it. the way he was shaking. the way his cock twitched, buried so deep inside you you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

you swallowed hard, pulse hammering, skin burning where he touched you.

it was too much. too deep. too thick. your body fought to adjust, pulsing around him in helpless, desperate flutters.

he groaned, low and guttural, pressing his forehead harder into your shoulder like he was in pain. “jesus christ.” his breath was hot against your skin, ragged, almost like he was laughing. “gripping me so fucking tight. gonna break me."

you shivered at the rasp of his voice, your fingers sliding up his back, feeling the strain in his muscles. the raw need in him. you were doing this to him. you, all wet and trembling underneath him, still adjusting, still unsure—and he was losing his mind over it.

you swallowed, tried to steady your breath. "you can move," you whispered.

his entire body tensed.

you barely had a second to register the shift before he pulled back, just an inch, and then—slow, deep—he thrust in again.

your breath shattered. your mouth fell open, no sound coming out at first, just a strangled, breathless whimper.

then, before you could so much as blink, he started moving—pulling out halfway before snapping his hips forward again, setting a rhythm that had your breath stuttering in your throat.

he wasn't just fucking you—he was making sure you felt every inch of him, dragging it out, taking his time. and god help you, but it felt so fucking good.

"shit—" you gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets.

his hand slipped between you, his thumb pressing right against your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. your entire body jerked, pleasure sparking through your nerves like lightning.

"yeah," he muttered, watching you like he was starving. "that’s it. let me see you fucking fall apart."

nam-gyu’s rhythm grew rougher, sharper—his control slipping, his hips snapping forward with a force that had you gasping, clawing at his back. every thick inch of him dragged against your walls, the stretch now molten pleasure, the overwhelming feeling of fullness making your head spin. his body caged you in completely, heat rolling off him in waves, his skin slick with sweat.

"fuck," he rasped, voice ragged, his breath hot against your lips. "listen to you." his thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles. "moaning like that—so fucking needy, aren’t you?"

"fuck," you gasped, your nails raking down his back, desperate for more.

nam-gyu groaned, dropping his head to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "shit, you're taking me so fucking good," he muttered, his teeth grazing over your throat before he kissed you there—open-mouthed and messy, dragging his tongue over your pulse like he could taste how wrecked you were for him. "never had anyone inside you, huh? no one’s ever had you like this—"

his words made your stomach flip, a desperate, aching heat blooming in your core. you shook your head, gasping. "no—"

"fuck, baby," he groaned. "you don’t even fucking know—" his lips found your collarbone, biting down just enough to make you jolt, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. "how long i've been thinking about this. how long i've wanted to have my cock inside this pretty pussy."

his hands slid up, gripping your tits, squeezing, kneading the soft flesh in his palms. his fingers flicked over your nipples, rolling them between his fingertips, and you whimpered, the pleasure making you arch into his touch.

nam-gyu groaned, his tongue darting out to trace the swell of your breast before his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking hard.

"oh my god—" your back arched, your fingers twisting into his dark hair, holding him there.

he chuckled, a low, breathy sound against your skin, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before he sucked again, harder this time, drawing a desperate whine from your lips. his hips kept moving, slow but deep, every thrust sending a new wave of pleasure through you, making your stomach coil tighter.

"you're so fucking good," he murmured against your skin, moving to your other breast, giving it the same attention—his lips wrapping around the stiff peak, sucking, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. "so fucking tight, taking me so well—fuck, i knew you would."

you whimpered, the heat inside you winding tight, too much and not enough at the same time. your thighs trembled around his waist, your nails dragging down his back.

"nam-gyu," you gasped, voice wrecked, desperate. "please—"

"please what?" he pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes dark, burning with something almost possessive. his fingers slid down between you, finding your clit again, circling it with slow, precise movements. "tell me what you need, baby."

you sobbed at the pressure, at the way it made your body twitch beneath him. "i—i wanna cum—"

his jaw tightened, his thrusts growing sharper, faster, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

"yeah?" his voice was strained, breathless. "you wanna cum all over my fucking cock?"

"yes—yes—"

"then do it."

he pinched your clit, just the right amount of pressure, and the coil inside you snapped.

your orgasm hit hard, crashing over you in sharp, shuddering waves, making your entire body lock up beneath him. you let out a high, broken moan, your walls fluttering around him, pulsing, milking his cock as he fucked you through it.

"fuck—fuck—" nam-gyu groaned, his hips stuttering as you clenched around him, the tight grip of your body dragging him right to the fucking edge.

"shit," he rasped, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his fingers digging into your hips as he snapped his hips forward, harder, rougher. "gonna—fuck, gonna fill you up—"

your entire body shuddered at his words, at the realization of what he was about to do, and you let out a breathless, desperate "please."

that was all it took.

he came, hard, his body trembling as he filled you, his grip tightening almost painfully as he groaned your name, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath ragged, wrecked.

the heat of him spilling inside you made your entire body tremble.

he didn’t pull out right away. he stayed, breathing heavy, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. his hands—no longer rough, no longer gripping—slid soft over your skin, smoothing down your sides, your waist, your thighs, as if he was soothing you.

you were still shaking, your body aching in the best possible way, your mind swimming in a haze of heat and exhaustion.

nam-gyu shifted, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. his lips pressed to your temple, then your cheek, then—finally—soft against your lips.

"you’re a fucking dream," he murmured almost to himself, voice soft, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

your heart skipped.

then, before you could say anything, before you could think—

his hips rolled again, slow, lazy, his cock starting to harden again inside you.

"think you can handle another one?"

────────────────────────────────────────────

© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (49/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Climbing up the mountain can be very freeing.

Warnings: angst (self-doubt, insecurities, mentions of abuse in a relationship, Charles is very insecure about himself), the end is a bit fluffy, but don't expect too much

Word Count: 4.1k

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A/N: I feel like this describes Charles well. I cried when writing this chapter. I hope you like it. feedback is appreciated.

It is the first time in years that Charles has no desire to climb the mountain on those stupid skis. 

His feet hurt, he is cold even though the jacket he is wearing is suitable for even colder temperatures, and his hands are so stiff from the frigid air that they painfully curl around his ski poles. 

The snow blinds him because of the bright sun, his bones feel heavy, somehow his mouth is so dry that he would like to rinse it with water every five meters.

But maybe that's just because he'd rather be at home in Monaco. Because that's where you are. And there is no place he would rather be right now. 

Closing the door behind him and leaving you alone in the apartment was incredibly difficult. He would have loved to put you in his bag and take you with him, but you would only have distracted him from training. 

And if he wants to be world champion one day, he can't afford to make any mistakes. 

It's been two days since he's seen you and heard your voice. In the morning, when he wakes up and gets ready for the day, you are still fast asleep, and during his training, Andrea has his phone so that Charles can collect his thoughts and stay focused. Only in the evening, when Charles is in bed, he manages to text you a few messages before falling asleep, cell phone in hand, completely exhausted. 

He misses you every second. 

Before he met you, he would never have imagined that he could miss someone he had only known for a few days so much. He had missed Annika from time to time, after all, he had definitely loved her at some point, but he had never longed for her or anyone else the way he did for you now. 

As soon as he has a moment to himself, whether it's in the shower or on the toilet or when Andrea isn't bothering him with calories or carbohydrates or protein for a moment, he misses you so much that he can almost feel the physical distance between you. 

But most of all, he misses you in the morning when he wakes up. When he is in that one second when he is neither sleeping nor fully awake. Snuggled up warm in the blanket and against the pillow, where in the evening he imagines it would be your body that he is snuggling up to. And in the morning, for a brief moment, it feels as if you are actually lying next to him, which is why the second he realizes that you are miles away from him hurts the most. 

“Are you okay?” Andrea asks, who has slowed down a little to run up the hill next to Charles. ”You're suspiciously quiet.”

Charles, who hasn't realized that he has slowed down at all, looks at his trainer in confusion. “Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

Andrea shrugs. ”Usually you're chattering away at me during training. That usually helps you to distract yourself from how exhausting it is.”

He has a point there. Charles pushes himself forward on his skis. “I don't know. This time I don't feel like you're torturing me up this mountain. It's still the same route we usually take, isn't it?” He looks around as if he can recognize the surroundings. 

Andrea raises his eyebrows and also picks up the pace. ‘We're in a completely different area, Charles.’ He points to another mountain with his gloved hand.

If his friend hadn't told him, the man from Monaco would never have noticed, so absorbed is he in his thoughts about you. The mountain Andrea is pointing to seems more familiar to him than the one in front of them. And a lot smaller. If they had taken the familiar route, they would have been at the summit long ago. 

“You asshole,” Charles curses and wipes his face. ‘Why did you choose a different mountain? And especially one that's higher?”

Andrea can't help but grin. ’You came in second in the championship this year. I'm hoping that if we increase your training, you'll come in first next season and...”

“And what?” Charles interrupts his trainer. "The whole thing is useless if my strategists and the whole team mess up so much during the race. I can train as much as I want. It won't work." He gets so caught up in it that he doesn't notice how quickly he pushes himself up the mountain on his skis. 

“Charles –”

“No, Andrea. This whole thing cost me the title. Wrong tires? Last-minute changes in the pit? What the hell?” he gets worked up. He knows that his anger is unfairly directed at the wrong person, after all Andrea is only there for Charles's well-being and not for what happens on the track, but it just comes spilling out. And he can't stop it. 

His ski poles dig deep into the white snow, which Charles barely notices. He only sees the summit in front of him and hears Andrea breathing loudly next to him as he continues to complain. 

“It's not right that I come in second because of such little things! If I had caused accidents, then at least it would have been my fault and I could have dealt with it more easily,” he says, annoyed. ”But what kind of stupid plans were these, anyway? Even a toddler could come up with a better strategy!”

Andrea, who knows full well that Charles needs to vent his anger, walks quietly beside him and lets the storm pass over him. It's not often that Charles gets this angry. And normally he blames himself, but he certainly doesn't take such serious mistakes on his head. 

Charles knows that making mistakes is an inevitable part of competition, and sometimes, they're the difference between standing at the top of the podium and finishing second. Being the runner-up in a championship can feel bittersweet – so close to victory, yet just short of it. 

Being second in the championship feels like a mix of pride and frustration. On one hand, Charles has achieved something incredible – outperforming almost everyone, proving his skill and showing that he deserves to sit in the red car with the horse on it. But on the other hand, there's that lingering thought inside of his head – he was so close. The tiniest mistakes, the small miscalculations in his strategies, or someone else having a slightly better day made the difference in the end. 

There's this ache inside of him, knowing he was almost the champion. The podium felt different when he looked up at Max Verstappen holding the trophy he desperately craved. Charles felt a lot of things in that moment – disappointment, regret and even anger – at himself, the situation, the team and at the margin that kept him from winning. 

“I could have won the title. Max will definitely win the next season too, as strong as Red Bull is. How will I ever live up to my reputation then?” He clenches his jaw. ”I feel like I'm stuck with what I'm doing now. And I'm doing my best, Andrea. I really am. But it's apparently not enough. Do you know how incredibly frustrating that is?”

Being second carries a unique weight – a strange middle ground between triumph and heartbreak. And hell, Charles heart broke with every race that put more distance between his and Max's points. He feels like a failure, like he failed his team, his family and friends. He failed his fans, that support him through every decision he makes on and off track, that defend him whenever he makes a mistake during races. 

And it haunts him. What if he had pushed just a little harder, made one less mistake, reacted a second faster? What if he made a different decision that would've outweighed the mistakes his team made? What if he became world champion in the famous red car he worked so hard to get into? The famous red car that his dad loved so much?

Disappointing his dad was the worst part of it all. It was a different kind of pain, heavy and crushing. It's not just about failing at something – Charles feels like he simply isn't good enough. Like he let someone down who believed in him. He could have been champion this year – he was so close to standing on top of the podium. What if he never gets this close to winning? What if he never holds the big trophy in his hands, dedicating it to his dad, who always wanted to see him drive in the Ferrari?

Charles' anger has been building up for so long that he doesn't know where to put it. If only he had concentrated more on the season and hadn't been so distracted by his personal problems - 

“And Annika. What a waste of time the whole thing was. I should never have gotten involved with her. I should have ended the relationship when I realized that she wasn't the one. When I realized that I couldn't give her the attention that a healthy relationship requires.”

Charles would never admit it, but Annika’s betrayal in their relationship cut deeper than expected. It’s not just about broken promises – it’s about broken trust, the foundation of any meaningful connection. It shook everything Charles believed to be true about Annika – or love in general. 

The worst part wasn’t the act itself or that he caught them right in the act, but the realization that someone he trusted with his heart made the choice to hurt him. After the break-up he questioned everything – was any of it real? Was Annika lying to him the whole time? Even after everything, the wounds linger. 

Some betrayals are survivable with time and effort, but others leave scars that never fully heal. They change people – it changed Charles. It hardened his heart, made love feel dangerous to him and made him create walls where there once was openness. 

He guarded himself like a survival instinct. At first, it was solely for protection – he told himself that if he didn’t let anyone in, nobody could hurt him. The walls became his shield, keeping out disappointment, rejection, and the risk of being vulnerable again. 

But over the course of the weeks, Charles noticed the walls he put up brick by brick didn’t just keep the pain out – they kept everything out. Love. Connection. The chance to feel something real. Hell, he didn’t even tell his Maman that he was back home in Monaco. He pushed his family away, his friends, acting cold and distant – not because he didn’t want love, but because he’s so scared of what happened when he let someone else in. 

It took Charles some time to figure out the truth, that the walls didn’t keep him safe and sound – they kept him stuck. They stopped him from healing, from growing, from experiencing the things that make life meaningful. But he was so scared of breaking them down when it took him so long to put them up, that he didn’t know what to do when he met you. 

It was terrifying, letting you in slowly and hesitantly. He’s spent so long guarding himself, convincing himself that no one except his close ones can be trusted, that it almost felt unnatural to let you in. At first, he resisted, kept his distance. But the fact that you didn’t even know who he was felt so good, made him feel safe to share his story with you and then – you stayed. You didn’t push too hard, but you didn’t walk away either. 

Surely, this friendship has had it’s ups and downs, but this is what happenes when two people, who protected themselves so much that they become too careful, too hesitant to let someone in fully. 

And instead of forcing your way through, you waited. You were there. You proved in small, consistent ways, that you’re not like the woman who made him built those walls in the first place. 

And then, without realizing it, he stopped expecting the worst. He let you see his wounds, his fears, his past, and instead of running, you stayed. You stayed with him through awkward dinner conversations about his ex, you stayed with him when he didn’t correct his family about your relationship status, you stayed when he overstepped the boundaries of your friendship. Your gentle touch, your honest conversations while burning Annika’s things. 

You stayed when he revealed to you who he really is. You see him – the real him – and don’t flinch at what you see. Little by little, cracks form in his defenses. He finds himself wanting to trust again, to love again, even though it scares him to death. 

When you look at him, it feels like sunlight creeping through the cracks in the fortress he thought were unbreakable. It was unsettling at first after being in the dark for some time. But you didn’t break down his walls in a dramatic, earth-shattering way. 

It was quiet. Subtle. It sneaked up to him in moments he didn’t even realize – they way you looked at him when he played your song on the piano in the bookshop, when you let him hold you while you cried like his arms were the safest place in the world, when you showed him that you want him for who he is. 

But even though you broke down most of his walls, he still can’t admit that you’re all he needs. 

He can’t let you in fully after what Annika did to him, he can’t let you touch him like he wants you to. He can’t let himself feel so much for you because what if those feelings he has for you – the feelings he swore he’d never harbour for anyone again – are not enough for you?

What if he gives you his all and you decide that it’s not enough? That he is not enough? He can’t tell you why he doesn’t want you to touch him, because what if you’ll see him differently? What if the things he wants, he needs, are different from what you want? 

He feels like he isn’t good enough. The scars Annika left on him made him question his worth, his value, his ability to be loved. There are moments where he feels too far gone, too damaged, not strong enough to break free from the fear of losing you that he’d rather keep you at arms length hurting himself than push you away and out of his life. 

He can’t let you touch him after Annika, because sex with her felt wrong, like he was broken because he wanted different things than her. Because he craved intimacy like his life depended on it, the safety that comes with it, but it always felt like he needed to deliver, even if he didn’t want to. It felt like a chore, no gentle touches or loving words, only demanding hands and lips and thighs and he swore to himself he’ll never let it happen again. 

If you don’t touch him at all, there’s no chance you could hurt him like that.

He’d rather give you all he’s able to give instead of letting you return anything.

“I could have waited for…”

“Charles.” Andreas‘ voice is gentle and soothing, in contrast to Charles’. When the man from Monaco looks at his friend, he smiles at him. ”We're here.”

The wind howls at the summit, biting and cold, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel it. He can’t feel anything except the weight that presses down on his chest. He stands there on top oft he world – and all the space in the world couldn’t quiet the chaos inside him. 

Andrea chose this route to help Charles clear his head, the mountain was supposed to be his escape, his victory. He climbed every inch of it, each slide of his skis pushing him further from the mess he feels inside. The view from the top is actually breathtaking: endless stretches of jagged peaks, skies that feel closer than ever. He should feel something – pride, accomplishment, freedom. But instead, there’s only the overwhelming silence that gnawed at him. 

For a moment, everything is still. He pulls his beanie and glasses from his head, closing his eyes and trying to ground himself in the beauty around him, but the images, the memories, everything – it all comes flooding back. The things he can’t outrun. The words that had been sad. The choices that had left him fractured and alone. 

A sob caught in his throat, sharp and unexpected and he falls to his knees in the white snow at his feet. The tries to fight it, but the tears come anyway – slow at first, then faster and harder. They burn against the cold wind, mixing with the salt of the sweat on his skin – and he can’t stop them. 

They stand for everything he hasn’t been able to say, everything he has be scared to face. He thought he could bury it, hide it behind the walls he built, behind the distance from it all. 

His hand tremble on his thighs, his chest tightening with every broken breath. His vision blurred, the edges oft he mountain fading into the background. It doesn’t matter that he’s at the top – he feels smaller than ever. The tears slip down his cheeks like a rush of a river too long dammed. 

„I’m not enough“, he whispered almost unaudibly. A confession only the mountains and his friend could hear. „I’m never going to be enough.“

The world stretched out before him, magnificent and indifferent, and in that moment, he realized that being on top oft he mountain didn’t mean escaping it all. He had climbed all this way, but he couldn’t outrun himself. The hurt, the mistakes, the weight of everything he’d buried deep inside. 

He doesnt flinch when he feels Andrea’s hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing and reassuring him that whatever he feels right now is okay. That the tears that fall down onto the snow have their right to exist after being bottled up for so long. 

The sobs faded, leaving him gasping for air in the stillness of the summit. He wiped his face, trying to wipe away the brokennes, but it lingered in his chest. His hands still trembling from the release, from the rawness that had bubbled to the surface. For a long moment, he just sits there, the wind biting at him, the emptiness inside him as a vast as the world stretched out before him. 

And then it hit him, like a sudden punch that knocked the breath from his lungs. 

You. 

Your laugh. Your smile. The way you always seem to know what he’s thinking, the way you care in the quietest ways – how you’ve been there for him, even when he pushed you away. How, despite everything, you stayed. 

He tried so hard to tell himself that he’s better off alone, that he doesn’t need anyone else to fill the empty spaces inside him. He thought he could bury his feelings, run from the truth. He has told himself that love was something to fear, something that could trap him, break him, leave him just as broken as he’d been before.

But now, sitting on top of the world, it all makes sense. 

He loves you. He always has. He can feel it in every part of him, the truth that has been there all along, buried under layers of fear and pride. It’s not something he can outrun, not anymore. He can’t ignore the way his heart always beats faster when you’re near, the way everything seems to fall into place when you smile at him, the way your presence has been the one thing that feels like home. 

The moment of realization hits him like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. It’s undeniable. 

He loves you.

Not in the casual, passing way he once tried to convice himself was enough for his relationship with Annika, but in a deeper, truer sense. It’s always been you – only you. Right from the start when the both of you stood in the small apartment. 

But the weight o fit, the sheer force of that truth, felt like it could crush him, especially when he realizes how long he’s been running from it. 

His heart races, pounding hard in his chest, but it isn’t the kind of excitement he thought would come with such a revelation. Instead, it is quiet terror. The terror of feeling too much. Of feeling anything at all. 

His breath comes in shallow gasps as the cold mountain air cuts through him. It isn’t the altitude or the wind that chills him – it’s the fear of being too vulnerable again. Of letting anyone close enough to hurt him. The thought of telling you, of exposing his raw, vulnerable part of himself, feels like standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to climb back down. 

He stares out over the vast horizon, the world stretching out endlessly beneath him, and for a moment, he considers it. The possibility of going back, of telling you everything he has just realized. But the thought of your eyes on him, the weight of the words, the vulnerability—it‘s too much. Too raw. Too dangerous.

So, he stays silent. He stays with the truth, buried deep inside of him. The love he feels for you is now his secret, locked away like a fragile thing, too delicate to share. He can‘t find the courage to let it out—not now, not after everything that had happened.

But there is something about knowing, about feeling it — just knowing that he can love again — that makes the world feel a little less heavy. It isn’t perfect, and it doesn‘t fix everything, but it is enough. For the first time in a long time, he doesn‘t feel so broken. He isn’t empty. He is filled with something — something soft, something he thought was gone forever.

Maybe he isn’t ready to tell you. Maybe he will never be ready. But the knowledge that love still exists in him — that it can still find him, even after everything — is enough to hold onto for now. It isn’t a victory, not in the way he wants, but it is a beginning. And in that, there is a quiet peace. A peace that, despite all the fear and hesitation, he coul still feel, still hope.

And that, for the moment, is enough.

[alaia777]

IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO SPECIFY IF I WANTED FLUFF OR ANGST😓😓 I want fluff😋

I requested rin (bllk) for "you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?" OR "we should just run away."

i hope you like it! :’)

you’ve been dating rin for almost two years now, but you’ve known him for much longer—ever since kindergarten, when you told him football was stupid, and he immediately shot back that you were stupid. one “fight” later, your teacher forced you to spend recess together for a week, and somehow, you’ve been stuck with each other ever since.

so by now, it’s routine—annoying him, getting on his nerves, and watching him act like your presence is a burden when you both know he wouldn’t have it any other way.

you were the one who made the first move, mostly because you had a slight suspicion he liked you. you’d had feelings for him for a while, and the more you noticed the little things, the more convinced you became.

and when you finally told him, he had the straightest face ever—completely unreadable. except for his red ears. and the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

…yeah. you were right.

the only thing he told you after that was a simple “same,” and the rest is history.

it might not look like it to anyone else, but to you, rin is the sweetest guy. sure, he has a hard time verbalizing his feelings, but you know he cares. it’s in the small things—like when he picks up your favorite beverage from the coffee shop, paired with whatever pastry obsession you’re into that week. or when he sets aside time every week to watch rom-coms with you, even if there’s a football match on tv.

and then, there are the little gifts. he never calls them sentimental, but you know better. every time he comes back from a city he was playing in, there’s always something small he picked up for you—sometimes a keychain from a place you both visited together, or a notebook from a city you’d talked about visiting but never had the chance to. each one of them has a connection to a memory between the two of you, something only the two of you would understand, and that’s what makes them so special.

but verbalizing it? he’s just not the best at it. rin’s pretty cutthroat with everyone, and even though he used to be like that with you when you were just friends, now that you’re more than that, he doesn’t want to risk it. he keeps his words to himself, always cautious.

so, when you’re getting ready for your date with him, it catches you off guard when he says:

“that is a dress.”

“yes. it is,” you reply, still not quite understanding his reaction.

“you’re wearing it.”

“yes, i am.”

you’ve worn dresses around him before, so his reaction is a bit confusing. “rin, what’s going on?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, avoiding eye contact, though you can tell he’s trying to say more.

“it fits you,” he adds, almost reluctantly, before quickly looking away, clearly not used to expressing compliments.

when you finally understood what was going on, you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles, but the more you tried, the more it looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“that movie we were watching the other day, the girl said women like to be complimented by their boyfriends. i thought..” he trailed off, his gaze darting away. “i thought you might want that too.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “oh, so now you’re using rom-coms for relationship advice, huh?”

he scowled, clearly irritated, but there was no mistaking the faint blush creeping up his neck. “shut up. don’t make this a big deal.”

you laughed again, unable to resist. “too late, rinnie. you’ve already made it a thing.”

rin let out a long sigh, clearly trying to hide his discomfort. “can we just go already?” he grumbled, glancing at you quickly before looking away.

you raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. “what’s the matter, rin? never complimented someone before?”

he scowled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “i don’t do that.”

“right, you’re too cool for that.” you teased, arms crossed.

“i’m not, just, it’s stupid, okay?” rin muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

“so what was that about rom-coms then?” you pressed, enjoying his flustered state.

“i don’t need your sarcasm right now,” he shot back, clearly embarrassed but not willing to admit it.

you chuckled, stepping closer to him. “fine, let’s just go, rinnie. but you know, maybe you should try complimenting me more often. you’re not so bad at it.”

rin grumbled under his breath but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, just enough to know he wasn’t really as annoyed as he was letting on.

“let’s go,” he repeated, his tone still blunt, but you could tell he was less annoyed than before.

you grinned, following him out, because even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, you knew he cared.

[kaisentine]

if there was one thing you could miss about kaiser it’s being able to run your fingers through his long messy hair. it’s the way the tips of your fingers occasionally bumped on his scalp, it’s the way your fingers might’ve gotten stuck on a knot that you’d have to use an actual brush on, it was the way he’d show up to training with little untied and half-finished braids that would eventually just . . . fall after every goal, maybe it was also the way kaiser said he hated it but didn’t punch you in the face.

“ness, can you braid that side?” you ask the man that’s on the opposite side of you. kaiser looks annoyed—sitting with his legs crossed while the both of you guys knelt at his sides to play with his long hair. “sure but we have practice soon,” he responds with a smile and kaiser groans at his very enthusiastic teammate.

that’s why when ness agreed to cut kaiser’s hair, you felt betrayed—devastated, even. “oh good graciousness, when did that happen?” you ask with a jaw that’s wide open as you stare at his new hairstyle, it’s hard to describe into words but it’s really . . . eye-catching, especially with the blue hair dye that mixes with his blond hair.

“wanted to get rid of it.”

you don’t play with his hair anymore, mostly because you basically have nothing to tug on anymore other than the two stupid rat tails he has to which you have twisted together at least once. your finger-combing agenda suddenly vanished and your fidget toy which was his hair was replaced by numerous hair-ties and bracelets.

not like he minded. he finally had his hair for himself without some person overtaking it with their hands and he didn’t have to bother himself with putting it up any longer.

nope, he was totally lying—he did mind. he minded that there were no more hands—your hands—getting tangled in his hair and the dull pain that came with it. he minded the way your fingers fiddled with those objects instead of his hair. he didn’t necessarily care about his hair, he cared about your hands in his hair.

he thinks you’re being real stubborn,

kaiser is fed up now. the man is crazy enough to grab your wrist in the middle of nowhere when you’re twisting a black hair-tie and bring it to his head (CRINGE EWWW). “what are you doing?” you’re as shocked as you were the day you saw his new hairstyle—by instinct, you try to remove the fingers that are caught up in his locks but his grip is deadly and unwilling to let go. “exactly what it looks like.” he’s saying it straight-faced without an inch of regret in his actions nor words. you roll your eyes at his insistence because all this time, you thought he hated when you threaded your fingers around his hair. “didn’t you say you didn’t like me doing it?” you question, fingers unwilling to move. “i’ll hate you even more if you don’t move.” he grumbles.

but he’ll fix that.

sticky note. lowkey me just mourning his hair . . . someone please tell me kaiser won’t break plsplsplslpls don’t do this to me i can’tican’tican’t omg no bring kaiser back kaiser comeback when pls don’t go back to germany pls make it up with ness plspslpslpslsplspsls don’t die plsplsplsplsplsplspls

[dirtyyoungthingg]

its been a long ass week. your boss has been up your ass every day, always haranguing you with stupid bullshit. all you wanna do is relax, unwind, drink a few beers, and rot on the couch for a little while. and that's what you've done this evening. by the time i get home from going to the mall with my friends, you're quite a few beers deep.

i know how you get when you drink. stern. blunt. handsy. i try to pass by the couch quickly on my way inside, but you catch my wrist at the last second and pull me towards you. "c'mere. come have a drink with your old man." you pat the spot next to you on the couch as you take a long sip.

"dad, i'm not old enough to drink yet…" i shrink back a bit but you quickly decide you're having none of that. you suddenly pull me onto your lap so that i'm straddling you.

"it's been a real hard week, babydoll. please, just have a sip." you hold the bottle up to my mouth and help me sip. "theeere you go. see? it doesn't bite." i wince at the taste and try to swallow quickly so i don't have to taste it for long. "good girl. go on, have some more." i try to refuse, but you snake your hand to the base of my scalp and pull my head back, forcing my mouth open. you pour more of the beer down my throat and force me to swallow it. i'm all sorts of dizzy now, and you can tell. "god, you're such a fuckin' baby. can't handle the taste of a little beer, can't handle how fuzzy it makes that dumb little kiddo brain of yours." you make me finish off what's in the bottle. i'm too warm and fuzzy to refuse anymore. you watch as i lazily sip from the bottle, my tongue tracing the spout slightly as i try to get the very last drops out. your hands settle on my hips as an awful awful thought enters your brain.

your hands start to trace up and down my thighs, riding up my skirt inch by inch. "i like this skirt, baby. you get it at the mall today?" i dazedly nod, a drunken smile creeping across my face. i like the touch. your hands slide further and further up before hooking themselves in the string of my underwear. you hum softly as the fabric of my skirt rides up enough to where you can see the delicate lace covering your daughter's cunt. "and these? are these new?" i nod again and wiggle my hips slightly as you slide them down. you help me take them off under the guise of 'getting a closer look', but really its just so you can discard them before i realize they're gone. you suspect you could have just ripped them off of me in my lush state.

you grab the discarded bottle from earlier and begin to trace the spout of the bottle along my slit. i whimper softly, confused. "d-dad… what're you doin'?" you shush me as you start to tease the bottle between the folds of my little pussy. "shh. you know dad's had a long week, right?" i nod. "and you know that dad loves taking care of you, right? he loves when you buy cute little skirts with the money he makes." i nod again, letting out a soft, breathy moan as you force the bottle a bit deeper. "well, dad just works so hard, and no one helps him relax like his sweet little doll of a daughter does." you lean forward and press kisses to my neck. i can smell the beer on your breath from here. you grab one of my hips with your other hand and guide me to grind down on the bottle as i let out another sickly sweet moan. "such a good girl. dad's gonna play with you a while, okay? and by the end of it, you'll see that nothing's wrong with sharing a drink with dad every now and again."

[lila-went-missing]

Hiii, saw you wanted some requests for Sevika and I've had this idea bubbling up for a while. Imagine Vika with a reader that's normally experienced, yk has fucked one or two people before and it's not a sex god, and they're growing insecure about sevika never starting intimacy even after months of dating, so they think it's because they're not as good as the girl's she's been with before. Idk just thought that'd be good

I'm kind of obsessed with this, ngl. This isn't the first smut that I've written but it is the first smut that I've posted on here so feedback is always appreciated. Y'all will never guess... it's not proofread. Again. Enjoy my lovelies! X

Warnings: Smut (obviously), mild angst but nothing too horrible, mentions of body image issues but readers body type isn't specified or described.

Fem reader, of course, with female genitalia.

At first, you didn't think anything of it. She probably just wanted to take things slow with you. You weren't as experienced as her so she probably wanted to take her time.

That made sense for a while.

But now, after eight months together, you haven't had sex once. More importantly, she hasn't initiated it.

Realistically, you know that it's fine. There's plenty of reasons as to why nothing has happened so far. But that voice in the back of your head is doing a fantastic job of convincing you otherwise.

Sevika was kind of a sex symbol before you two got together.

She'd been with countless women, she was a regular at Babbettes. Her name was uttered on the streets like a sacred prayer.

You, on the other hand, have only been with two people: your ex, and a drunken one night stand that was less than satisfactory. So you did have sexual experience, but not nearly as much as her.

Honestly, it's starting to worry you.

Did she not like you? Was she not physically attracted to you? Was there something wrong with your body? Were you not showing enough skin?

Thoughts plagued your mind night and day. You were stuck in constant turmoil. It was impossible to stop your own brain once it got going.

It was taking everything in you to focus on the stove and not burn dinner.

You flinch at the sound of the door closing. Heavy footsteps sound through the house, approaching the kitchen.

Sevikas thick arms wrap around your midsection, her face making home in the side of your neck. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. The only sounds come from the meat sizzling in your pan. Moments like this make it easier to not think about the painful lack of aw sex life between you two.

Her lips purse, pressing small kisses against your skin. She hums against your neck.

"What are you cooking doll?" Her voice is muffled against your flesh but you understand her all the same.

"Spaghetti." You feel her smile.

"My favorite.." She mumbles. You hum a small "Mhm" before focusing back on the seasoned beef and water you're waiting for to boil. Her arms tighten ever so slightly, one hand slipping under your shirt. Her thumb caresses your bare skin.

It should be sweet but it really just drives the nail into the coffin for you.

Your voice comes out before you can stop it.

"Why won't you have sex with me?" You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth.

"I- woah, what? Doll what do you mean?" She honestly sounds baffled.

"Forget I said anything, please. It doesn't matter."

Her hands gently grab your shoulders, turning you around.

"No way. What are you talking about?"

You shake your head. "It's stupid.."

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you." She reassures you.

"It's just, we've been together for eight months, and we practically live together. But we haven't done anything. I know you don't have an issue having sex because half the undercity talks about how good you are and I just don't understand. Is there something wrong with me? Am I not appealing to yo-" Your rant is cut off by her lips. Her hands are holding you like glass, one on your cheek, one curled around your hip.

"There is nothing wrong with you." Her voice comes out as a soft whisper. "I'm sorry I made you feel like there was. I just knew that you don't have as much experience as I do. I didn't want you to feel rushed, or forced."

"Rushed? No, you could never.. I thought you just didn't want me that way." She immediately shakes her head. She kisses you again, more urgently this time.

Her hands grab anywhere they can, pulling you in. They're on your hips, waist, groping your ass.

"I do want you." Then they're picking you up and lifting you on the counter. "Let me show you how much I want you?" All you can do is nod as her lips trail down your neck. Her touch dances over your body, removing your top.

Her mouth follows soon after, sucking dark bruises into the skin on your neck and chest. She takes a nipple in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. A low whimper leaves your mouth at the new, but not unpleasant, sensation.

Her right hand copies her tongue's motions on the other, pinching and pulling. Your body trembles against the counter with need.

She moves away from your breasts, kissing and licking down your stomach to your navel. Her hands unbutton your pants. She looks up at you as she lowers herself to her knees, silently asking for permission. You nod your head. You don't trust your voice. Your pants are off in seconds and thrown somewhere in the kitchen that you'll worry about later.

Her hand splays across your stomach and gently pushes you to lay against the tile. It's cold against your bare and burning skin, your back arching off of it but she keeps your hips pinned down.

You gasp as her teeth nip at the skin of your thigh. A breathy laugh leaves her.

"Shut up.." You mutter.

"Didn't say anything."

Your eyes roll in fake annoyance but you don't get the chance to reply as the cold air hits your bare cunt. Her thumbs pull your lips apart, admiring the sight before her.

"Fuck doll, you're so wet. All of this for me?" Her voice is husky between your legs and it stirs something delicious in your belly.

"Yes, all for you Sev.." She chuckles. Her teeth take the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs. She kisses your hips and navel, sucking hickies and marking you as hers.

"Please, Vika. Need you.." You whine. You can't bring yourself to care about how desperate you sound. You're sure that you look even more so from her position.

It seems, though, that your prayers have been answered because as soon as the words leave your mouth hers is back on you. This time it's between your legs.

She licks a long stripe up your pussy before stopping to suck your clit into her mouth. A loud moan reverberates from your chest as you lean your head back into the counter. Her tongue kitten licks at the bud before suckling on it like shes trying to nurse herself.

You've had people eat you out before but never this well. You don't think it could get better than this.

She moves down, opting to fuck you with her tongue instead. You definitely understand the appeal now. You've given yourself plenty of orgasms but this is the fastest one has risen before.

She feels it in the way you clench around her tongue and moves back to your clit. Her fingers fill up the now empty space, fucking into you in a gently but rough way only she could manage.

She's eating you like a woman starved and with the lack of sex the two of you have had she may as well be. If you didn't know better you might think this is her last meal.

Gasps and whimpers leave your mouth in a desperate way you can't stop.

"Fuck Sev.. ngh~ m'gonna cum, please.."

She smirks against you once more, speeding up her ministrations.

"Come on my tongue baby, make a mess on me." Her voice is muffled against you cunt, vibrations travel through your clit with her words.

You last maybe thirty seconds longer, hand tangled in her hair, before releasing over her tongue.

She laps you up, milking you for all that you're worth. She's never tasted anything more delicious. Her mouth doesn't let up until your whimpering from the overstimulation and pushing her head away.

She looks you in the eye as she sucks her fingers clean before kissing back up your body. Her lips lock onto yours and you can still taste yourself on her tongue. It makes your head spin in a way you've never felt before.

When you come back to earth, her hand is running through your hair.

"I'm sorry I made you believe that I didn't want to do that." She mumbles. "But now I may need it to be a daily thing." You giggle at her words.

"It's okay. I wouldn't mind honestly." She helps you sit up, a large hand cupping your cheek. "You didn't get to cum.." You whisper as you lean in closer.

"Don't worry about me, I'll get my fill later." The look on her face tells you that this isn't over. "I'm going to change out of these clothes. You just worry about dinner okay?" She slips your panties back on along with your shirt.

You nod, sliding off the counter. You wince at the mess you made but she's already wiping it up. Her lips meet your temple as she mutters a low, "I love you."

"I love you more." She shakes her head, chuckling before walking back to her room. You feel much better now, and you really can't wait for what she meant by "later".

[kaiserposting]

My Worries Come in Phallic, Freudian Shapes

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2k TYPE: Established Relationship, It's basically just Kaiser tweaking for no reason 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ (I find it funny but interpretations may vary) WARNING(S): Kaiser's overactive imagination?

Kaiser would like to say he’s quite numb to being separated from you. Sometimes you come along with him at away games, if possible, but in other instances you have to be apart sometimes even for months, and Kaiser likes to think he manages it well.

You’re not on his mind much when he’s training or during a game. Mostly his times of weakness happen outside of that, though Kaiser doesn’t let it get to him. For example, he does this fun exercise where if his mind strays towards you too often or when he can sense the void in his chest is beginning to take on a suspicious shape, he holds out on texting or calling you for as long as possible. To test his will — which is something normal people do like all the time, of course — and because wanting to distract himself gives him extra neurotic energy to burn when he’s doing his exercises.

Not that Kaiser becomes neurotic over you or anything. It’s not even a big deal to him.

He’s sure you miss him more than he misses you. He’s confident you do. After all, to him, it’s no big deal, as previously stated. It’s true.

He doesn’t worry about small and nonsensical things like how you’d probably prefer a more present and available boyfriend, and how you’re free to do whatever you want with remarkable ease when you’re seas and oceans away from him.

Kaiser’s eye twitches while he continues shoving the last of his belongings back into his luggage, since he needs to pack for his flight back home. This train of thought isn’t going anywhere good — he needs to abandon it. Besides, a second with Michael Kaiser is worth way more than a month with some stupid, worthless commoner. Your shitty replacement for him will never rival the real deal.

No, this is stupid. You love him, you don’t have a replacement for him. Right? You wouldn’t betray him while he’s away. You’re his first and only love, you can’t do that to him, can you? You know he’d kill you if you did it and he found out, don’t you?

This is stupid. He wouldn’t kill you! Kaiser doesn’t want to kill you. He should stop thinking about this… You wouldn’t do it to him either anyway, you love him back. Kaiser knows you do, so why does it not feel real most of the time?

What if you’ve fallen out of love with him, though? Maybe you look forward to when he has to go away for long. Forget all about him the moment he’s out of your sight, don’t spare him a single thought, have fun with your little friends while he’s gone, all that.

You probably get together and you start shit-talking him with them the way people do about their good for nothing boyfriends sometimes. They call his haircut stupid and you cackle along with them, then you tell them how insecure and unlovable he really is, and actually his dad beat him as a child so now he’s barely human, how it makes him an arrogant and pretentious piece of trash pretender, and then you’re like ‘I wish I had a normal boyfriend instead of Michael’, and they’re all like ‘you deserve a normal boyfriend, this is fucked up’, and you’re empowered to free yourself of your burden. So he comes back home and you pick him up from the flight and you break the news to him that you’re leaving him and he has to move his belongings back to his place.

Maybe you have a new fling already, but it’s nothing serious because you still need to dump Kaiser and all. And he’s like in finances or something, an accountant maybe, who works normal hours (not the overachieving workaholic type who stays behind to do extra), and he probably doesn’t have footage of him having meltdowns on live TV for everyone to see. There are no interviews where he’s acting bitchy, no compilations of him acting cruel or ‘crashing out’ or whatever else. And he probably grew up in an average household — they weren’t rich or anything, but his parents made time for him. They were loving and nurtured him to be a rightful member of society, raising him to be someone worth your affection…

Holy shit does Kaiser feel unhinged. Literally why is he making up this entire story in his head? It never happened.

It didn’t, right? You wouldn’t do it to him, would you? You love him. You really, really, really love him, like from the bottom of your heart, somehow you love him and you don’t want to hurt him, even if you’re probably sick of him being away and of his problems and his attitude and his everything. If you had a magic wand, he wagers you’d wave it and change him on a neurochemical level, keep his looks and his successes, but get rid of the unnecessary baggage.

Or would you keep him as he is and love that ugly thing? Can you? Do you have it in you? Are you just tolerating him for some monetary benefits or out of pity with your knowledge of his past? Do you still love him? Will you love him a few hours from now or are you going to get bored? Are you bored and antsy waiting for him and is it affecting your feelings, suffocating your love to zero each moment he’s not by your side, each reunion only serving to put off the inevitable? Is the novelty wearing off? Do you need novelty?

Kaiser fights off the impulse to write you a text message threatening suicide and then turning off his phone until the end of the flight to keep you on your toes. A flashy move in attention seeking for sure, but for one you don’t even know he’s in a mind war with you, so you’re more likely to be confused than begging for him not to do it and for his forgiveness, though maybe it could earn him a reassurance of love and care. Regardless, Kaiser is not taking the chance because if you ignore him or don’t see the message it’ll just devastate him.

And also he kind of doesn’t want to act like that. Well, he does, but the rational part of him is also still awake and holding him back. You won’t appreciate that. Right now the strife he’s going through is completely imaginary, but if he goes and acts crazy outside the confines of his mind, he really might fuck everything up.

If he makes too many mistakes, you might fall out of love with him, and if you fall out of love with him, you’ll leave him. Kaiser thinks about what he’d do in that case. Without you he is nothing besides an unwanted waste of breath — you’re the sole person who got close enough to see beneath his nonsense and decide to tolerate it, attracted beyond frivolity for an enigmatic reason.

Maybe the perpetrator behind this strange limbo of weird hysteria is Kaiser’s low self-esteem. It always circles back to that and he is sick of it. He doesn’t understand why you subject yourself to him and here, a whole ordeal.

Whatever anymore. Kaiser doesn’t even care. It’s a pointless matter to lose his mind over. He knows you cherish him, and even if you didn’t, he’d get over it. Life moves on. There are other fish in the sea…

Actually, if you tried to leave him, Kaiser has so many things he would do, they’d earn him a restraining order. First he’d resort to begging and ugly crying, but he doubts it’d sway you. He’d need to be more extreme.

No, that’s silly. If you separated, he’d react to it like a normal person, right? He wouldn’t do a thing. He’d let you leave without any theatrics and move on. Right? It’s what he would do, Kaiser decides.

Or maybe he can get a leg up on you and catch you out when you begin losing interest in him and he can work to win you back over. You won’t even know what hit you. Yea, Kaiser will scheme to sweep you off your feet.

Not that he cares that much to put so much effort in… It’s just his strength and natural calling as an unbothered male manipulator.

___

After the packing and the waiting at the airport and all that, Kaiser survives a restless flight. He tried to read a book during it, but he turned out not to enjoy it whatsoever (catastrophe). Then he turned to Gesner, who was sitting next to him and seemed like he wanted to kill himself, and told him in detail about all the plot problems and why this was what made nonfiction superior.

To Gesner’s relief Kaiser also spent a good chunk of it trying to sleep, though the endeavor was useless. He closed his eyes and his pattern of anxious cyclical thinking continued and he failed to doze off. What do you think about accountants? Maybe your side piece wouldn’t have any tattoos because you secretly find his corny and you’ve sworn off tattooed men. ‘I mean, seriously, just put the eyeliner on like a real man.’ Kaiser would bet this is what you’re saying to your friends.

Anyway, again, his flight was spent stirring in ridiculous thoughts in that vein. If nothing else, actually, if you knew what was running through his head, that would be what would put you off of him. But you don’t. He needs to just… keep it to himself and it’ll be fine.

So you find each other after some stumbling and chaos and some vague text exchanges like ‘where are you?’, ‘At the airport obviously’, ‘you think you’re so funny’, and so on, and when you spot each other, you grin upon the sight of him (hard to fake such immediate happiness, Kaiser concludes) and spread your arms out for a hug.

Kaiser rolls his eyes. You’re so cute, he wants to squeeze you to death, but regardless he puts on a big show of what an inconvenience this is and gives you a stiff, nonchalant embrace. The way you hold him is a small reassurance. You’re still in public though, so he needs to play it cool for a bit longer, and he reluctantly peels himself away from you.

You interrogate him about his time away while he’s your passenger princess on the way home. Kaiser takes it as a good sign you’re still interested in his life at least enough to ask, as if there was a possibility he was going to come back and you just… wouldn’t give a fuck about him or what he’s been up to. He keeps his answers vague, trying not to let on the almost daily mental torment he’s been subjecting himself to just because his brain can’t stop making up stupid narratives.

Once you two arrive, and only when you’re inside, does Kaiser give into his desire for your affection. He wraps you up in a way tighter embrace without intention of letting go and peppers your face in kisses.

The first time he acted like that with you upon coming back, you were rightfully weirded out, but now you’re used to this whole routine and let him have his moment of rare forwardness.

“You know,” he says, “I missed you like, a little bit.”

“It’s hard to tell,” you say, sarcastic.

Kaiser ignores it. He bites your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt at all, but it’s a strange sensation.

“So gross.”

“I hope you weren’t doing anything stupid without me. I wouldn't want to miss out on any fun.”

“I wasn’t.”

“What do you think about accountants?”

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, but humor him anyway. “Can’t say I think anything in particular about them.”

“Is that so…”

For some reason, you find his tone to sound suspicious? There is a harder bite — your skin might be a bit irritated around there for a few minutes. You wonder if Kaiser was arguing with management or something somewhere abroad.

___

I just wrote this because I thought Kaiser having emotional impermanence (which is likely) would be hilarious I promise I'll write a more plot-oriented one shot soon again

[vampiresbloodx]

I wonder how good your hands feel around my neck.

pairings: Vi x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings/contains(18+ ONLY): smut, Vi loves her some tits, clubbing, tattoo artist!vi, innocent!reader, porn without plot/plot what plot, top!vi, dirty talk, flirting, daddy vi, fingering

You have the absolute filthiest thoughts that come to mind while getting tattooed. Some you really can’t control, they just appear and you end up fixated on them for hours, before you know it, your session has ended. 

Vi, short for Violet, is the first artist who’s ever tattooed you ever. With her pink hair, to her muscles that are covered in ink. You can’t help but wonder how strong she is, you know she’s talked about how she did boxing one time, she even tried karate, many forms where she gets to fight and use her hands. 

You know she’s good with her hands. 

When you first got your tattoo done by her, you focused on the way her fingers moved the entire time and how the art came alive on your skin, the needle not even bothering you. She was impressed at how long you can stay still. 

You were slightly surprised yourself. You didn’t mind the pain, the pain had slowly turned into pleasure meeting halfway. That’s what made it all worth it. 

You’d work more hours just to save more money so you could see her again, you thought at first you loved her style, how she worked, all that. But then you realised it was more than that. 

Almost you wanted to stop going to her, and you did for a while, focusing on other things in your personal life. Actually trying to hang out with your friends and go outside instead of only going to work and the few shops and stores you went to. It was nice for a while, you did miss her, which felt stupid when she didn’t know you at all. She was just a girl that gave you a few tattoos, some of your best. 

And then you saw her again. 

You went out with a couple of friends on a saturday night, you couldn’t describe the shock you were in when you saw a familiar pink haired girl who was at the same bar as you. Even in a big city, it's strange how you can see the same faces again. 

She was actually here. 

You couldn’t contain how much your heart was racing, you weren’t even paying attention to anything your friend was saying, she grinned when she saw who you were staring at. 

“Hey, is that-” 

“That’s no one,” you interrupted quickly, looking away.

She smiled more. 

“Just go and talk to her, it won’t be as weird since you two already know each other.” 

You shook your head, “that would still be fucking weird and you know it.” 

She shrugged, “maybe a little. But what if I told you she’s coming your way right now?” 

Wait, what? 

Before you could ask any more questions as you thought she was messing with you, it turns out she wasn’t. Just as you turned around to look where Vi was, she was really walking towards you, in your direction, maybe she might just walk past, not even notice you, maybe she saw someone else instead. 

And of course your friend ditched you. 

You heard your name being called. 

It never sounded so much nicer coming from her mouth. 

“Vi? Hey” you tried to act smoothly, as if you didn’t know she was already here. 

“I have to say, you look good, like really good.” 

Did she just?... 

Were you actually dreaming right now? 

“You look great yourself” you decided to say back, it didn’t seem like it would hurt if you flirted back a little. 

She really did though. She wore black ripped jeans, loose tank top that showed a bit of her abs that you couldn’t help but look at shamelessly. God you were obsessed with her. You had an issue. But right now all you could think about was how her hands would feel around your neck as she fucked you silly. 

You didn’t see how much closer she got to stand next to you, until your hands brushed against one another. You couldn’t focus. With the loud music blasting in your ears, the lingering touches. What did she want? 

“Where are your friends?” she asks, her eyes never leaving yours, as you bite down on your bottom lip. 

“She left, of course.” 

“She left a pretty girl like you all by yourself?” she hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Can I keep you company for a lil while? I can make it worth your time.” 

How could you ever deny her? 

You followed her back to her place, you haven’t gone home with someone in a while, you’re happier it was with her than any other stranger. 

She held your hand with a strong grip, leading you the way, making sure you were always with her. The silence between you both wasn't even uncomfortable, you actually enjoyed it. 

It was the thrill of her that was exciting to you, you craved more. 

You laughed with her as her hands roamed your body, touching you wherever she pleases and where you wanted her to be. You let her. And then you found yourself begging for more, it wasn’t long until she had you where she wanted you to be, on top of you as she teased you, slowly taking your clothes off. 

“I hate to take these pretty clothes off, but I think i’d be more happy to see your naked body” she licked her lips, you made a noise as she raised an eyebrow at you. “Someones getting needy.” 

“Please, just touch me” you whimpered.

She spread your thighs apart, keeping one hand a tight grip on them to make sure you don’t move as much. You liked it. The way she stared at you had you squirming. 

“But i'm already touching you?” she teased, and so easily, she slipped a finger inside your wet pussy, moaning at how well you fit her, she wanted to fill you up. 

“God baby, you’re soaking” she groaned, thrusting her finger in and out slowly on purpose, hearing you whine louder, she loved how vocal you got the harder and faster she fucked you. 

Her other hand played with your tits, as she groped you and fondled with them, you were on cloud nine, why didn’t you do this sooner? You both wondered. She really wanted to taste you badly. She wanted to make you cum on her face, make you ride her, hear just how loud you can get. 

She added another finger in and another, stretching you out as she imagined how fucking sexy you’ll look riding her thick strap on, as you cried sweetly. 

“Who knew you were such a slut, behind how innocent you showed yourself to others” she chuckled. She felt herself getting more turned on, getting off on how wet you are for her. “You gonna come for me, baby? Make a mess on my fingers? I want you to come.” 

You let out a sweet release of a beautiful cry, she wanted more. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your body shook. Still you craved her touch. You didn’t just want it to be over, and she didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving me.” 

“No, I need you.” 

“Good girl, now come use me as a seat, would you?.” 

[moodymisty]

MORTARION X READER HURT/COMFORT!!! MORTARION NOT FEELING GOOD ENOUGH AND HIS PARTNER COMFORTING HIM!!! NOT NECESSARILY SEXUAL; YOUR CHOICE!!!! I AM VERY EXCITED FOR OPEN REQUESTS!!!

Author's note: I love treating Mortarion with the love he never got <3 This is a bit short but I wanted to do just some tender cuddles that he's confused by Relationships: Mortarion/Gn!Reader Warnings: None, other than brief hints to Necare's abuse to Mortarion

This is the first time Mortarion has ever been fully unclothed around you, and the feeling he has is...

Unsure.

The scars that litter his body are not subtle, they aren't attractive. He doesn't like you seeing them. He doesn't like you seeing his bare skin at all, it feels unnatural to him, but the scars are what aggravate him the most. They don't have stories of hard won battles and brawls for honor.

They're scars from Necare; Exploration. Long straight incisions along his sides, his stomach, his throat, his back. They don't have a story of courage and standing stalwart- it's of being chained down, cut open as someone dug and took to see inside; How much he could heal back from.

The one your fingers are brushing against he remembers vividly. The coldness against his back, the way he dug into the skin of his chest. You caress it like it's just something curious, laying against his side with his arm pressed against your back.

You'd manipulated his body into this pose; Mortarion doesn't... He doesn't know how any of this works.

How to be intimate how to be romantic, he researched books on anatomy, not how to care for another. He felt angrily stupid when you pushed his arm around to lay in the nook you'd made, but the other options were either yelling at you and pushing you away, or admitting he didn't know.

So he sat in moronic silence and let you manipulate him to your liking, until you found a reasonable spot.

You continue to fiddle with the smaller of his scars, cheek pressed against his bare skin. It's so dark in the room that he can barely see that your clothes are all gone, but he can feel enough of your bare skin against his that it still triggers that feeling of shock in him.

It's such a foreign feeling to him, but he allows it. If only because he never thought that such a luxury was even possible. On Barbarus to see skin was so rare, to touch skin even more so.

He didn't think the broken remains of his body were worth touching, either; Underneath the protective thoughts of not needing such things.

It was far easier for him to deny himself than it was to feel it and thus the loss; Though now that he has your affection, there wasn't much that could tear it away. Other than himself.

He feels you push against him harder, gathering what little warmth he produces. He feels the gentle brush of your hair against his skin when you lay your head against him.

He can hear your heartbeat- you aren't asleep yet. But it's slowing, you're drifting off. He's glad for it, he doesn't know how much more of your affection he could take tonight.

He doesn't deserve it, but at least for a moment he could pretend he did.