#and then after a bit he just stops. and then it's something else

[no-144444]

farm girl- o.piastri

summary: what's a better way to a guys attention than shouting at him for being too slow?

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! clarkson farm, farm-hand!! reader

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You weren’t the biggest fan of Jeremy’s reality show, but you enjoyed working the farm, so, as per your agreement, you wouldn’t be featured in episodes as much as possible. You were so far removed in fact, that you didn’t even know that someone else was driving the tractor when you shouted for them to ‘stop being shit’ at driving it. 

“Y/n!” Jeremy shouted. “Stop being rude!”

“What?” you scoffed. “I swear to god, if Finn doesn’t fucking speed up I’m going to-” you started, but stopped yourself when you saw none other than Oscar fucking Piastri in the driver’s seat with an embarrassed and guilty smile on his face. “Sorry,” you offered, internally cursing yourself. “Continue on!” you announced before turning back and continuing on with more of your duties. 

Oscar looked after you as you walked, an amused smile on his face. “Who’s that?”

“Y/n, one of our farmers,” Jeremy explained, a chuckle on his lips. “She’s… fiery.”

“She’s damn good at her job!” someone from off-camera chimed in, making everyone chuckle. 

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As his day went on, he caught glimpses of you. You were tending to animals, or showing someone around, or just generally being beautiful and mysterious. He was desperate to know more. He asked a million questions about you, and he was sure everyone was aware of his not-so-secret crush on you.

“You should ask her out, she likes F1,” Jeremy advised as they sat down to lunch. “You’re one of her favourite drivers.”

He still got surprised when people knew him, forgetting sometimes that he is, in fact, a public figure. “Yeah?”

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah,”  he scoffed. “Kids these days…”

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When his day of hard labour came to an end, he made it his plan to seek you out, humoring Jeremy’s theory. 

“Hi,” he smiled, standing just behind you. 

You startled, jumping up from whatever it was that you were doing and cursed. “Fucking hell! Announce yourself!” You let it slip before you could really stop yourself, but you didn’t feel all that bad, he should have announced himself. 

He laughed. “What did you think I was trying to do?!”

“Scare the shit out of me?” you scoffed. “I don’t know.”

“I’m Oscar,” he held out his hand to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”

You took his hand,shaking it quickly. “Y/n. Sorry about the whole…  tractor thing.”

“Nothing but a bruised ego,” he chuckled. “So what do you do around here?”

You shrugged. “A bit of everything, I guess.”

He nodded, and you both stood in silence for a minute. 

“Did you need something?” you questioned. “-Not to be rude, or anything, I just… I've got to get back to the rest of my stuff so… yeah.”

He smiled, enjoying the fact that you were as awkward as him. “Can I get your number?”

You stared at him for a second, then you broke out into one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. “Why?”

He stepped closer to you. “I think you’re really pretty,” he explained. “And I want to get to know you more.” 

You nodded. “Give me your phone.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[yurilvr4]

mr crawling thirst ! . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

cw: monsters3x (,,¬﹏¬,,) mr crawling has a long tongue canon, sub!mrcrawling, f!reader . [MDNI.]

the room you were carried in was eerily dark and gloomy. a few boxes of something littered in a few corners of the room, worn down walls and a single table sits in the middle of the room, a creaky bed and a closet too. the lights suddenly flickered but stopped when a certain figure kneels near the doorway of the entrance.

“Mr Crawling..?” you say uncertain. he was sprawled out on the floor with his legs curled up behind him, his long, dark hair drapes over his shoulders and down to the grimy floor he sat on.

he perks up at the sound of your voice, crawling closer when you held out a hand in his direction. he hesitates to take it, uncertain if you'd pull away from his touch, but you took his hand and gripped it softly.

“You…fine?” he asks, voice like melted butter, smooth and low— filled with concern.

you nod softly and gave him a small smile. in all honesty, you were exhausted to the bone, running away from all the lurking entity's in this place is extremely tiring and your legs were worn out to the point that you think they might fall off.

“Tired.” you say, slowly so he could catch the words from your mouth. the language barrier was no issue when you and Mr Crawling would talk, it was easy to converse with him since he somehow understood you better than anyone else who's out to pursue you here.

like a kicked puppy, his head hung low and you could see a pout on his greyish lips.

“Me, sorry.” he says, palms coming to rest on your knees in attempt to soothe your legs.

he says a few words, “recover.. recover!” to heal your wounds, your blisters and your scratches.

much to both of your surprise, it did heal almost immediately after he chanted those words out loud. “Wow! I recovered!” you say shocked. 

Mr Crawling nods, his lips curve into a big grin as he cheers, “Recovered! Recovered!” 

you giggle at his silliness, he was so cute you couldn't say it to his face. although you had a feeling he might like it if you actually confessed.

“Feel..happy?” he asks, the smile still on his lips, it curves so sharp that it stretches his cheeks a bit. it doesn't creep you out but rather..you secretly found it endearing.

you nod and grab his head, shook it up softly and petted his hair, swaying his head side to side, the smile on his lips never left.

after your attempt of affectionate gesture, his body language seemed more happy. a rush of excitement runs though his body and he exclaims happily, “Me, Like ..You.” he grabs your body and practically throws himself on you— he hugs your waist and engulfs you entirely with his tall and slender frame.

“Me want together ..you.” he nuzzles his face into the skin of your neck, you feel him inhale your scent. he hums with delight.

you hug him back with the same affection, you couldn't deny that you're actually fond of him. he was so sweet and he would help you when you didn't even ask for it. 

he'd go out of his way just to find you, and save you from sticky situations when you were borderline exhausted from running all the time. he was your savior.

“Mr Crawling…” you whisper, the room was a little too quiet for your liking, save for Mr Crawling’s soft inhales of your skin.

he pulls away, you notice his smile still plastered on his face. 

you couldn't think of Anything to do at the moment And it's not like you wanted to go back out there either. you had a bit of an advantage if you were to stay here— the cons however would probably just halt your exploration to escape until you're feeling a lot better.

Mr Crawling sits obediently on the floor, awaiting any new orders or words that might come out of your mouth. He always sits patiently whenever you're around him. It makes you want to protect him just as much as he protects you.

you decide that since you both basically reciprocated the same feelings, you'd be able to show him right? The thing is…you didn't know how to suggest the idea. You'd just have to hope he understands what you're implying.

you place your feet on the cold floor and Mr Crawling immediately places his hands on your ankles. 

“Recover... Bed.” he mutters, his lips now formed a frown. 

he really wanted you to feel better huh. 

“No, Mr Crawling. Me…” you point at yourself, “Want..You.” your index finger touches his chest.

Mr Crawling’s mouth opened slightly, his jaw unhinges a little and you could see the empty black void of a space inside his mouth.

“Like.. Me?” his head tilts to the side, the curve of a smile coming back to situate itself on his lips.

you nod, trying to be patient. but you want him to kiss you so hard that your lips bruise.

“yes…Me, and you..Now, here.” you try your best to make it easier for him to understand your implications. you even point at yourself, and drag your hands down your chest, to your tummy and then your thighs. you unconsciously clench your legs together with red cheeks.

as if he could sense your urgency (which he did), he places both hands on your knees and softly pried your legs apart. 

now, if you were fully packed with extra clothing and gear, you wouldn't be having to wear your 3 day old panties And bra, the only thing protecting you from getting fully dirty was the white robes you'd always wear whenever it's time to venture out again.

Mr Crawling’s stares (?) (he has no eyes but you could feel his stare anyway) under your ragged skirt. his slender fingers splay over your thighs like he's about to tear your flesh apart. 

he dips the blunt of his nails into your skin and inhales deeply. you couldn't help but whimper and you clench your clothed cunt, juices already spilling out and staining your cotton panties.

he tilts his head with curiosity and his mouth forms a small pout. you writhe with need and you situate your hands on his head, pushing his body forward a bit. you didn't want to force him or anything but he seemed like he wanted you more than you wanted him

you writhe with need and you situate your hands on his head, pushing his body forward a bit. you didn't want to force him or anything but it seemed like he wanted you more than you wanted him.

he breathes heavily, heaves and you see his chest rise and fall. he gently pushes your body backward, and you topple on the creaky bed.

“M-Mr crawling..” a small gasp left your mouth, he deftly dives in between your legs and nosed your slick underwear, he saw the wet patch forming under the cloth and he drags his tongue out to test the waters.

you inhale when you felt his hands pull your underwear down and tossed them to some random corner.

his tongue darts out and he drools over your wet folds— Mr crawling watches you twitch underneath his ministrations.

you grip his hair and he whimpers in between your legs, his tongue laps around your heat and you whine for more.

there was something carnal with the way he held you, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs that tore the skin apart in the shape lines of his nails.

he continues to suck your cunt until you feel an unfamiliar tight coil in your tummy, coming apart and finally snapping, you see stars when you come generously on his slithering tongue.

“M-Mr C..rawling..” your eyes are lidded with pleasure when he climbs on top of your figure to lick your cheeks.

“…like …” he says, his giggle is high pitched and happy— you grab his jaw and kiss his mouth.

it was hot and sloppy, your tongue finding his to slot your lips over his mouth to kiss him properly. Mr Crawling mewls, his hands sliding up to kneads your breasts softly while you gasp with need.

he grinds his hips into yours with fervour and you can feel his stiff press against your inner thigh. you gulp as he continues to lap and lick your lips, not knowing how to kiss properly.

“come here.” your hands found his lithe waist and guided his hips down on your cunt, you move your own hips up to meet his hard cock.

he whimpers, a soft and small sound leaves his throat and he hugs your frame, grinding his cock between your folds, languidly moving his hips as you moan into his mouth.

you guide your own hand down and grab his swelling cock, it was real huge— something you've never seen before. his hands halt and he stays on top of you obediently waiting for you to begin.

he whimpers when you pump his hard stiff several times, one, two and then three when you finally see copious loads of white dribbling down his tip. it aroused you, and he likes it a lot.

"smell ..good.." mr crawling leans down to nuzzle his face in between your neck, sort of buries his head in there as he moves his hips slowly into your hands.

"satisfied?" you ask, kissing his cheek as you picked up the pace, dragging your hand downnnnnnn all the way up to his angry tip.

he doesn't say anything and just let's out soft cries, whimpering and breathing heavy into your skin. you smile wide when he comes, his sticky seed flows up your arm like waterfall.

his cries fall on your ears, whimpering like a kicked puppy as you milked his seed until he slowly writhes, thighs shaking.

you coo and kiss his cheek, his hands are on your shoulders when he finishes cumming.

"....good." he says, licking your face and you chuckle.

[connorsui]

One Touch Apart

Note: I couldn't help it after seeing the countless number of fanarts and game plays ....I just had to give myself an area to adore this man that is Mr. Crawling...♡♡

The faint hum of the outside world muted, but the warmth radiating from the strange entity in front of you made it feel less... empty. Mr. Crawling stood in the corner, his towering, spindly frame blending into the shadows, but his glowing, expressive gaze was fixed on you. For someone—or something—so otherworldly, he had a way of making you feel oddly at ease, even after everything you’d been through together.

Escaping the other world was nothing short of a nightmare, but somehow, having him here made it less terrifying. No one else could see him, which, honestly, was for the best. It meant you didn’t have to explain why this unsettling yet endearing entity was always hovering near you, his chirps and faint, childlike giggles filling the silence.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, trying and failing to suppress a smile as you caught him peering at you from behind the doorframe. His head tilted, chirping softly in response, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

He was like a puppy, in the most bizarre and disturbing way possible—always following you around, trying to mimic your actions, and doing his best to protect you, even if you weren’t in any real danger.

The language barrier between you two was a hurdle you hadn’t expected, but it hadn’t stopped you from trying. You’d started using hand signs, carefully shaping each motion to convey meaning. The first time you tried, though, he’d simply stared, his glowing eyes wide with fascination. Then, much to your amusement, he’d clumsily attempted to mimic your gestures, his ghostly fingers twitching in a disjointed imitation.

The two of you had ended up staring at each other in utter confusion before you burst out laughing. He’d tilted his head, watching you closely, then let out a high-pitched giggle, a hauntingly perfect mimicry of your own laugh.

That was the moment you realized how fond you’d become of him.

Now, as he chirped softly from his spot in the shadows, you glanced up at him, smiling. He smiled back—or, well, you thought it was a smile. His expressions were still hard to read, but the curve of his lips and the light in his eyes were unmistakable.

Hesitantly, you reached out, your fingers brushing over his arm. His skin—or whatever it was—was cool and smooth, like marble. He didn’t pull away, instead leaning into your touch with a quiet hum. Encouraged, you let your hand trail upward, brushing against his face.

Your knuckles ghosted over his cheek, gently brushing his hair aside. He froze for a moment, as if caught off guard, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever been touched so tenderly before.

His gaze—or where you thought his gaze should be—locked with yours. Did he even have eyes? You weren’t sure, but the intensity of his stare made your heart race.

The first time you’d felt this strange pull toward him had been in the other world, when he’d saved you from Mr. Scarletella. He’d pulled you down, crawling over you to hide you beneath his frame, shielding you from the other entity’s gaze. You hadn’t been able to forget the way his body curled protectively around yours, the warmth of his presence chasing away your fear.

It had only grown from there.

He’d been your constant companion, your protector, your solace in a place where nothing made sense. And now, as you stood here with him, that feeling blossomed into something more.

Your eyes drifted to his lips—pale, faintly cracked, but oddly inviting. What would they feel like against yours? Would he even understand the concept of a kiss?

You bit your lip, then pointed to your mouth, and then to his, hoping to get your message across. His smile widened, but he tilted his head slightly, an expression of playful confusion.

What? ; his expression seemed to ask, as if hes teasing you. would you care to show me?

Your cheeks flushed, and you let out a soft laugh. Of course, he’d turn this into a game.

“Well,” you murmured, stepping closer. “Who am I to say no?”

Carefully, you cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. His skin felt smoother than you expected, like polished stone, and yet there was a warmth beneath it that made you shiver.

He watched you intently, his glowing gaze unwavering as you leaned closer. Your breaths mingled, and for a moment, you hesitated, wondering if you were crossing a line. But his head tilted slightly, almost inviting, and you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was clumsy, his inexperience evident in the way his lips barely moved against yours. But there was a sweetness to it, a quiet eagerness that made your heart ache. When you finally pulled away, he let out his signature giggle, his lips twitching into an unmistakable smile.

And then he leaned forward, trying to capture your lips again.

“Greedy, aren’t you?” you teased, though you didn’t resist as he pressed another kiss to your mouth, this one slightly more confident than the last.

He giggled again, the sound almost giddy, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. It seemed you’d spoiled him now—because judging by the way he clung to you, he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

[bunnys-kisses]

lovingly dominant

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/30s), size difference/kink, dom/sub dynamic, bdsm au, virgin!reader, light bdsm, praise (kink)

a/n: in a surprising twist, bunny has written call of duty again!! expect more cod stuff into december when the f1 season is over and it stops eating my brain <3

john price considered himself a little old fashioned. he thought it was better to have his birdie of the week on her back and rut into her until they both finished. he had no need for whips, chains, collars, and whatever else the world of bdsm had to offer.

but after so many missions and so many years, the pollution of combat bled into his sexual desires. he craved for control, near domination of his birdie. yes, they looked cute on their backs and their soft noises. but it looked far more appealing to keep her blindfolded, second guessing what was being done to her while price's filthy words spilled across her brain like wine on a white carpet. tainting her. tainting you.

most dominants loved a trained submissive. loved that they knew the ins and outs of the dynamic, tinkering to their liking. price on the other hand had a thing for over eager virgins. ones who got all their bdsm know-how from horribly written fan fiction. he liked to teach and guide, he liked to shape his submissive into the perfect image of what could be.

and when he met you, oh, well something else came up. an unwavering possessive need. price tried to not get possessive, this was all just a little game for sexual pleasure. but when he found out his little trainee worked at a flower shop, it was all over for him. it was only doubled down when you had your first meeting at a coffee shop and you got the most delicious looking slice of strawberry shortcake.

the cream on the corner of your mouth almost made john price lose resolve. instead he covered up with a cough before you asked, "do you want some, mister price." and who was john price to deny such a lovely girl her offer. you even fed it to him, a glimmer in your eye and gentle smile.

"it's lovely, baby girl." he said before he wiped a bit of the cream off his beard which made you giggle. that giggle seared into his brain and he knew that you weren't getting with any other man.

you met at his flat a few weeks later, and you were eager. price liked that. sex was only half as fun when the person he was fucking was almost having a good time. you came over in a big sweatshirt and jeans that were a little baggy, something that covered up. it made price curious as to what was hiding underneath.

"look beautiful, birdie." he said as he guided you inside and you got your sneakers off. you looked over at him to help you through the flat. you held onto him a little nervous, the only familiar thing in the place. price held you by the middle and let you press your face up against his strong chest.

he was in a flannel with a white undershirt and jeans. you could see the gold chain around his throat and the heavy chest hair. you had seen him naked from photos shared and he had seen you naked, but to feel it up close left a shiver of excitement through you. he leaned down and kissed you on the top of your head as he led you to the bedroom.

he said, "afterwards, i'll make ya some dinner. not the best chef, but, i can cook ya somethin' to replenish the energy you spent fucking me." he then ruffled your hair, which made your heart leap and he got you onto the bed.

you nodded meekly, you looked so small. so innocent. a girl like you should be on dated with finance guys or even the artsy kind. not a weathered, older military man like him. but even things in smaller packages can be surprising, just like when you took off your clothes and revealed a matching set of bra and panties. a soft grey colour with pastel yellow accents. it made price have to adjust himself in his jeans.

"ah, pretty girl got a surprise for me. how sweet?"

you nodded, "i wanted to make tonight special. good luck for a long... dynamic between us. so, you don't get rid of me if i suck." and soon you were in price's embrace while you still sat on the bed. your cheek pressed hard against his soft but firm middle.

he petted your head a little and said, "ah, don't worry, petal. even if you do bad tonight, i got every intention of trainin' ya. make you the perfect girl." the words spoken hit right to your core and when he pulled away long enough to strip down, you felt your eyes go wide for a moment.

a photo couldn't capture every inch of john price's skin. the scars, the tattoos, the hair, the muscle, the fat. he was like a big brown bear and it made you soaked. you shifted a little in your spot on the bed and rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. it was surprising that you were still a virgin, but you always chickened out. now as an adult, you wanted to just get it over with. but, you wanted to have fun. and why not have fun with a well experienced dom who wouldn't half-ass your first time. it didn't hurt that he had the kind of looks that would make any man with half a brain jealous.

"i hope i meet expectations." he chuckled as he put his hands on his hips. his cock stood at full attention and you swallowed. there was something so masculine about him, but not in a toxic way. he played with your hair once more before he patted your cheek, "no need to gawk, petal. i'm not goin' anywhere." and you swallowed. he chuckled before he got into bed with you and slowly unwrapped you of your lingerie like delicate christmas paper.

he hadn't been this excited to upwrap something since he got the toy firetruck as a kid. but in total fairness, you were hotter than any fire red truck. his hands grazed across your body with total tenderness and his hungry blue eyes gazed the skin.

the stretch marks, the moles, your own scarring. you were beautiful in ways that price couldn't describe. to compare you to something would be unfair to the thing being compared to your beauty. he took you by the wrist and kissed the center of it.

"this is a promise, petal. for as long as you keep me as your dominant and you my submissive, i with cherish you, adore you, and most of all. make sure that you cum over and over again." before he kissed you on the lips and got you onto your back. he admired you, "usually i like to take pretty things on their hands and knees. but, tonight's gotta be special, right, doll?"

you nodded.

he tapped your nose and said, "ah, ah, ah. that won't cut it. the words are 'yes, sir', got it? would hate to bruise that little behind during our first time."

you found your voice and said, "yes, sir." and was met with a rough pat on the cheek before price pulled away to rest on his knees to fuck you with just right. you felt heat course through your body as you took in the sight of him. burly, large from top to bottom.

course dark hair on his body, a little heft in his middle (but who didn't love that), a sparkle in his blue eyes, and hands large enough to break things between the digits. he admired you in return and said softly, "pretty little petal, yeah? ah, who let ya be so beautiful?" he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your slick sex, "i got so much to teach ya. how to tie ya up, how to gag ya properly. mmm, we'll have so much fun." he then pulled away to grab a condom from the nightstand. he held up the silver foil to you and said, "rule one, play safe or don't play at all."

you nodded and remembered to reply, "yes, sir."

price gave you a smile that lit you up and said, "good girl." then quickly got the condom on. he admired your soaked sex for a moment longer, "she achin' for me, huh? cute." then slowly, almost agonizingly, he inched into you and felt the spread of warmth through his body.

heaven was created with your pussy in mind. price was never a quick finisher, but he almost finished inside of you when he managed to get all of himself inside of you. he kept eyes and ears open, the type of examining done in his line of work, to make sure that you weren't in too much pain.

"ya alright?"

you nodded and swallowed.

price added, "baby girl. words." and then nodded his head when you replied that everything was okay, he nodded and said, "roger that." which made you pussy clench. a smile spread across price's face as he leaned forward. he captured your hands in his and pressed them to the bed under you. he chuckled lowly, "ah, someone likes a military man? a man in uniform gets ya goin'?" he kissed your pulse point, "ah, too cute, petal. i guess seeing that on my description didn't scare ya off." he rocked against you, "know it's a crime to mess up a man's uniform."

you swallowed, "sir. fuck." and felt the strike of heat through your body. you had to admit, you had seen a few photos of him in uniform. the beret, boots and all. and it made something turn in your stomach. only added an appeal to him that made you hot.

price replied, "i guess it worked out. because i like cute little civilians who are more than eager to make me feel good. doin' your civic duty makin' me cum, baby girl." these was a tension in his voice that made you heart hammer and your throat feel tight. the bed squeaked a little under the both of you as he continued his movements. he knew he was going to have an amazing time with you.

you whined, "please, sir."

"tell me. tell me what ya like about it? what gets my baby girl goin'? i gotta know, because maybe i can get somethin' together that'll rock your world." his words were hot and your cunt fluttered around his achy, hard cock. for a moment he was uncertain if you were actually a virgin, you took him so well.

you moaned when you felt a spark of pleasure in your core, your entire life had just been your hands and an assortment of toys. but to have price work your body beautifully was something else. you replied sweetly, "i... i want to thigh ride you in uniform." you felt a flush of embarrassment.

he chuckled, "oh that would be quite the sight, huh?" he continued to move against you beautifully, "i bet that i could make ya cum just from my thighs. rub your cunt all over it, messin' up the fabric. higher-ups will be wonderin' about the pussy stains all over the fabric. maybe if i'm lucky i'll get some of your wetness in my beard. let 'em smell you on me." and well, that excited you deeply.

you arched your back a little bit, but price kept you pinned perfectly under him. you tightened your thighs around him and he continued to work your body. it wasn't rough sex, but it also wasn't boringly soft either. he worked you at a steady pace, like a man with immense stamina. he eyed the bounce of your breasts and he moved against you.

he licked his lips at the sight of you, "baby girl." he purred, "you're a dirty girl. but don't worry." he soon held onto your wrists instead of your hands, a further act of domination, "i like 'em dirty. i like girls i can sink my teeth into. soon enough you won't be able to cum unless it's my fingers, tongue or cock in you. ya got the kind of soft skin that would bruise perfectly. but be careful, petal, i can be quite mean with a paddle." and it was met with a heavy moan. music to his ears.

you had never been spoken to like this before, but it excited you. you wanted to be price's dirty girl any day of the week. you felt excitement cross over you as he picked up the pace. the two of you fucked heavily and it left a taste of want in your mouth. this was better than anything you hoped for. it wasn't just that price checked boxes on a superficial level, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and moan. heavy noises came from your mouth as he worked your achy cunt, you felt amazing.

"ya like knowin' that i'm your first. big, scary captain makin' a mess of the sweetest cunt in the world. knowin' in a way, i got ya for life." he licked his lips. he liked that you were pure in that way, call him old fashioned. but knowing that he got to have you first was sort of like getting the first slice of cake at a party. something he wished to sweetly devour. and with you it was with heavy thrusts and filthy words. taint you to his liking.

you whined as you clenched your fists, you tensed up and he loved the feeling. he could almost read your mind with how sweet you felt. he could nearly feel your heartbeat as he fucked you. he loved the sight of you, you looked damn near perfect under him. you said between heavy pants, "please, sir. fuck, please!"

"feel good, petal? like how i take you." he moved against you further and it left him feeling the anticipation for climax. he continued to fuck your sweet body, working every last centimeter of warm skin, "remember, ya gotta ask me to cum."

his movements were overwhelming, his pace left you feeling breathless. and in your first lesson of intimacy, you croaked out, "can i cum, sir? please, i need to cum."

and price could be a giving man. he looked down at you, haze in those blue eyes as he said, "of course, baby girl. cum for me, cum for your captain." and swore under his breath as you beautifully came apart for him. he held onto your wrists tighter and groaned. it paired nicely with your sweet little moans.

"sir! fuck!" you gasped as you clenched around him. you finished and it only prompted him to move faster while you laid in such a blissed out state. no one had made you finish like that, not even your own nimble digits.

but price was just that good.

the bed creaked further and the headboard hit against the beige wall of the bedroom. he fucked you faster and made sure to cram every inch inside of you. with a few more heavy strokes, he finished into of you with a heavy groan. he fucked you through his climax before he slowed to a stop.

he wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply, "beauty, beauty. where has the world been hidin' ya from me." he chuckled as he kissed you on the lips. you melted against him and moaned.

when he pulled out, he got up with a creak in his hip to throw out the condom before he was back in bed with you. you were both naked under the covers as price traced your form with his calloused fingers. the roughness on your soft skin made you shiver.

"how about it, lovie." he said in that low, gruff tone of his. his hand grazed across your side and behind, "how about i invite the boys over and their little birdies and we can have a little playdate. introduce you to the group."

you swallowed, "play... date?"

price pulled you closer. he held onto you the way someone would hold a stuffed animal. he smiled at you, "don't worry, petal. no one's gettin' their hands on ya. not while i'm still breathin'." his voice was tinged with a possessiveness. you nodded in response and he added, "besides, i know i'll make the boys nice and jealous with you." he chuckled, "my beautiful baby girl." then kissed you on the lips.

you could only imagine what would happen at a playdate with price's friends and their submissives. it also didn't help that it made you a little excited as well. <3

[dontbesoweirdkira]

What if... Batsis with a oral fixation ⁉️

Not in a kinky way but like a stimming way, I have autism irl and I chew and bite on stuff to help get some feelings I'm not a fan of :P

Also I bite people I trust cuz Ik they won't mind or rlly judge me for it so what if batsis bites Grayson cuz she trusts him or somethin ����⁉️

A/N: So babes...i'm sorry this took a while. I was out of it for a while...I cannot stop biting my loved ones either...it's rough out here, really.

Characters: Dick, Tim, and Jason

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Dick wouldn't really mind it, I don't think?

Maybe at first he's like..."what ya got there..?" and it's just a whole chunk of his arm in your mouth.

He has a look of both concern and amusement on his face because well...this is a first.. But if he's aware of your usual oral stims and how you are constantly chewing or biting at something, I think he wouldn't question it further. It's easy to put two and two together, y'know.

But the fact that you only do it to him and maybe to the other siblings is enough for him to be okay with it. It makes Dick feel extremely special and dare I say honored to be a human chew toy. Dick adores anything that you do, especially if that thing is specifically because you trust him.

I think it'd be super cute having you hold onto his arm while ya'll are chilling on the couch. Maybe watching a scary movie, and because you're getting stressed so the entire time you are just gnawing on his bicep...poor guy. Lol but he actually doesn't even notice it after a while of you constantly doing it.

Like he's chatting with Babs and here comes your evil little teeth all ready to sink into his skin.

The only time I think he's be against it if he's super sweaty and gross or is trying to concentrate on something important....otherwise,,go ham.

But would I be crazy if I say his hair when it's long is perfectly chew-able.... like pleassseeeeee rachellll give it to meeee

I can imagine him giving you some of his bracelets to chew on. I imagine he wears these string bracelets and they are perfect chewing material.

*you have almost bit his entire finger off...*

Jason would be a bit turned off from it.

He's not particularly keen on you biting him. It doesn't feel good, it maybe even a bit irritating or stressful for him. This is not to say he thinks that your fixation needs to go but he'd rather you do it to anyone else instead.

Maybe he'll give you one of his old jackets for you to chew on. it's perfect, he got it cleaned and it has tons of tabs and buckles for you to chew. That way you can still have something of his to fixate on without necessarily bothering him. It does kind of warms his heart when you choose his items to stim with tho. It's assuring that he's still able to help ground you even if it's in a different way....

Tim..does not care. Like the most he does is just give you a strange look, then goes back to whatever he was doing prior.

You aren't hurting him, nor is he irritated so who is he to force you to stop. It's clear that you are overwhelmed and needs something that'll help you make it through soo have fun, sis.

He never directly addresses it either. It's just a thing that he accepts.

Maybe if you are chewing on the him of his shirt and your saliva is causing it to get rather wet and slightly uncomfortable, he'll just go change the shirt and give it to continue doing your stimming with.

I feel like Tim just had random chew-able trinkets around his room too, maybe even keeps tough gummies or lollipops around as an alternative for you.

[ultravi0lence14]

Rhiannon

dean winchester x hippie!reader

1.4k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: as stevie nicks once said; wouldn’t you love to love her. dean could agree with that statement. one hundred percent.

*based on this request

the early morning sun shined in through your window, arrays of pinks, purples and blues mixing in from the multiple coloured crystals and little stained glass designs you had bought. this is why dean loved coming to your apartment. the atmosphere. all the comfort and peace the you had brought into it.

you were the calm that dean needed in his hectic life. the anchor the held him down when things got too much.

he met you when sam had left for stanford, the wounds fresh as he threw back shot after shot in a dingy bar. you were just passing through, a couple of miles away from your apartment and needing to quickly stop somewhere to use the bathroom.

dean’s eyes caught you moving across the bar, the way your jeans hugged your lower half and the flower pattern on your tank top drawing him in. when you retreated from the ladies room, dean was on you like a predator on prey, attempting to elicit a little one night stand.

but you politely declined. though when you tried to walk away from the beaten down man, you saw something else entirely in his eyes.

he looked sad, and you couldn’t help but a feel a bit of empathy for the guy in front of you.

that is how you were raised. your parents telling you to always look for the good in people, being aware of emotions. you weren’t stupid, you understood when people were trying to take advantage of you. but you just liked to be helpful, wanting to make an impact one person at a time.

for the rest of the night, you sat with dean in a booth as he rambled on about his brother and what had happened. he told you that he understood why sam wanted to go on to get a higher education, but he just couldn’t understand why it had to be so far away; why it made their father so angry.

you comforted him the best to your ability. explaining that sometimes people needed a change in their life, and just because his brother left for university doesn’t mean he stopped loving him.

when you both went your separate ways in the parking lot, you couldn’t help but notice the stumble in dean’s step. he knew he was too intoxicated to drive, and was fully prepared to sleep in the impala stationed in the parking lot of the bar.

something inside of you believed that you needed to be of help to this man. and in hindsight, you did the stupidest thing you possibly could’ve done. the one thing parents always warned their kids not to do.

you invited dean to crash at your place.

it was dumb, you knew that. you had just met dean, and he could be an axe murderer for all you know. but the guy was really going through it. and he was so drunk, that you believed the weight of any harmful object in his hands would probably knock him down.

that night, dean slept on your couch, peaceful snores leaving his lips as you slept comfortably in your bed. when he woke up in the morning, dean completely forgot where he was. and then it all came back to him. seeing you in the bar, trying to sleep with you, you turning him down, which then turned into a therapy session that landed him to crash on your couch.

dean was fully planning on leaving, but he couldn’t help himself in taking a peak around your place.

from the couch, he could see the multitude of plants and flowers the covered your living space. it was like a garden, a comforting vibe that also warranted a lovely smell to the home.

there was colour all over the place. from the stained glass lamps on coffee tables to the rows of crystals hanging on string in front of your window. everything was so bright and colourful, and dean couldn’t help himself but stare at the moving colours across the wall.

he also smelt a lingering lavender smell, which was then over powered by the aroma of bacon and pancakes coming from somewhere else in your home. dean couldn’t help himself, he loved bacon. so like a man hypnotized, he followed the debilitating scent of bacon that lingered throughout the air.

as he made his way into the kitchen, he found that the rest of your home was just like the living area. adorned by breezy light pink curtains was a small window over your sink, housing mini plants a crystals alike. there were flowers everywhere. an arrangement by the stove, on the counter, even in the sink. it was overwhelming, but in a good way.

“wow,” he mumbled, groggily slumping into one of the bar stools in front of your counter. “that’s a lot of flowers.”

dean’s voice brought a laugh from your lips, making him look over to where you stood by the stove, stacking pancakes possibly as tall as he was. to this day, dean doesn’t know what it was in the room. all the flowers and greenery, the slight breeze from the open window, maybe it was just your intoxicating beauty. but at that very moment, you looked absolutely ethereal.

you just looked so pretty. the long white skirt falling loosely on your hips. the simple black t shirt that made a perfect canvas for the two braids you put in your hair. he looked down to notice that you were wearing crazy coloured striped socks on your feet, and dean couldn’t help but smile at the little pop of colour that you added to your otherwise basic outfit.

bringing over two plates of breakfast, you sat beside dean at the counter and ate together, just talking and getting to know one another.

it was a simple morning, filled with laughs and weird fun facts that you two threw each others way. when you told him you planned to go to the farmers market, dean couldn’t help himself in taking your offer to come with.

he had never even been to one, not even caring in the slightest for what they had to offer. but some part of dean didn’t want this day to end, and in his heart, he knew he wanted to get to know you more.

you two spent the late morning walking around the farmers market, you grabbing some fresh produce and more crystals as dean took in his surroundings. some of the people he saw looked a little weird, but he knew they probably meant well, and that everything here honestly wasn’t so bad.

when you had grabbed a couple assortments of flowers, telling dean you planned to make some flower crowns at home, he also couldn’t resist in coming back to your place and weaving the stems together by your side.

you two were in a comfortable silence, weaving the crowns in synchrony when dean couldn’t help but break it. “why do you like flowers so much? i can’t help but notice how many you have in your living room alone.”

his words elicited a gorgeous smile from you, and you then went on to explain why you held them so dearly to your heart. “there is just something so beautiful about a flower. they start from a simple seed, then grow into something amazing. i know that probably sounds dumb and i might sound insane, but i just love the whole ideology of it.

“that isn’t dumb, and you most definitely don’t sound insane.” dean had placed his flowers on the ground, slowly reaching out to grab your hand. “in my life, i have to look for the good things at any chance i can find. it’s sometimes nice to have a flower grow out of a bad situation.”

his words brought a soft smile to your lips, and you squeezed his hand before going back to your weaving. “you know, i didn’t expect you to go so philosophical on me there winchester.”

dean grinned back, grabbing his flowers again and following your motions. “well, i’m just full of surprises, flower.”

after that, you and dean spent so much time together. and when dean finally got the courage to kiss you for the first time, it was like everything was more clear to him.

he understood sam’s leaving, and he even tried to reach out to him. he started coming into his own, becoming his own person and even fighting back to his father when he called you a temporary distraction.

that was all years ago. and now, as dean laid beside you, checking his phone to see if sam texted him about any cases, he couldn’t help but silently thank you for all that you’ve done for him.

with a kiss on your cheek, and a mumbled, “i love you, flower,” dean peacefully fell back asleep with you in his arms, completing him in ways he never knew he needed.

[yslende]

Clark lies on the hospital bed, blanket tangled at his feet and his suit still on. The damn suit that still doesn't protect against the kryptonite bullets Luthor publicly mass-produces. The kryptonite bullets that Luthor has been using for years.

Bruce wants to go shake his shoulders around, rattle his brain enough until Clark can put two and two together and add bullet-proof plating to his suit.

The security camera gives him a mediocre view of Clark’s exit wound once he turns on his side. The bandages aren't cutting it; they're already soaked through after fifteen minutes. Barry’s rush job was just that: a rush job. To be fair, everything Barry does is a rush job. To be unfair, it’s still bad.

The report he was supposed to add quotes to stares him down, the cursor flickering accusingly. “The guy was ugly as [expletive],” Hal Jordan said so kindly, on record, about their latest alien dispute. “His feathers were this shit gr,” which is where Bruce's work stops. He eyes it, before rising from the chair in the monitor room.

The walk to the medical wing is short; walk down three halls, turn left, left again. It’s, unfortunately, familiar enough that Bruce doesn't have to check for directions in the winding halls of the Watchtower. He doesn't pass anyone on the way. 

His cape weighs on him like an oil-soaked blanket.

Clark’s trying to sleep when Bruce reaches his room. They're not in the right orbit for the sun to reach them, which is probably why Clark's breath is snotty and ragged. The bandage is leaking, blood running down his side in loose lines over his waterproof suit. He looks pathetic.

“Clark,” Bruce speaks to the empty room, punching through the cracked silence. 

A beat. “Bruce?” Clark lifts his head up. “What are you doing here?”

Making sure you aren't dead. “Your bandage is due for a change,” Bruce says instead. He sheds the gauntlets, placing them on the bedside table, before going to find the latex gloves.

“Oh,” Clark says, rather dumbly for him. “Did everyone else go?” His head thunks back onto the pillow.

“No.” Bruce finds the size L box and snaps a pair on. It’s quiet for a bit, except for the clinks of the tweezers and such. The sounds of someone preparing to sanitize your insides probably aren't very comforting.

He starts stripping the bandage off, ignoring Clark’s hiss of pain. The wound is ugly, red and flush with blood excited to leave Clark's body for once. Bruce douses it with distilled water, again ignoring Clark's cut-off groan. He's looking for any leftover shells or shrapnel, but he doubts—wait.

“Clark,” Bruce says, 12% more urgent than before. “Barry didn't get all of the residue out.”

“Mmwuh?” Had Clark fallen asleep just now? His eyes look bleary. “What, sorry?”

He glares at the offending shell, which is glowing a subdued green. “There's a bullet still inside your wound.”

There's a pregnant pause. “Okay?”

“I need to fish it out. It will hurt.”

Clark's head hits the pillow again. “Can you distract me?” He winces as Bruce spritzes his wound again.

“With what.” Bruce strips the now bloody gloves off, throwing them in the trash and grabbing another set. What is he supposed to say? Distracting Dick typically ensued getting Dick on a topic and letting him talk for as much as he liked. Bruce doubts Clark would find it as effective.

Clark bites off another groan. “I don't know! Want to play Twenty Questions?”

Bruce pauses, the tweezers hovering over Clark's wound. “Very well.” God, he sounds like Alfred.

They sit like that for a second, Bruce frozen in place and Clark silent. “You go first.”

“What questions am I supposed to ask?” Bruce figures it would be impolite to start digging around in Clark's wound so he doesn't have to play this game. The wound gets progressively bloodier.

“Um, something like ‘what’s your favorite color?’ Or something like that.”

“What's your favorite color.” It comes out more like a statement. 

“Triangle,” Clark promptly replies. “Do you like men?”

What. How is he supposed to answer that.

His hand goes forward on autopilot, forcing the ends of the tweezers to butt into the bullet. Clark full-on shouts.

That works too.

clark: do you want to play 20 questions?

bruce: fine.

bruce: whats your favorite color?

clark, laser fucking focused: triangle. do you like men?

[sweetshuga]

can u do one where mean!Matt and popular! Y/N get hi-gh and end up being freaky just for the other 2 to walk in saying “the bread’s ready” or something else chaotic like that? Js some humorous smut

𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒏.ᐟ𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 ───~𓆩♡𓆪~─── 𝑷𝒐𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓.ᐟ𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Matt’s hands roamed over your body as you two shared a heated kiss, all rational thoughts were out the window after the blunt kicked in. The first few hits weren’t that bad, made you feel a bit fuzzy. You and Matt made small talks while waiting for the effects of the blunt, and after the 5th drag everything went south. You don’t even remember how you ended up on Mat’s lap, grinding your hips against the growing bulge in his pants. Your mind was a haze, fogged by the drug in your system. Soft moans exited your parted lips, your head thrown back now that Matt’s lips trailed down your neck.

His hands travelled down and grasped your ass, pulling you down on him all while rolling his own hips, making you grind harder against him. The delicious friction made your eyes shut and you bit your lips, trying not to make too much noise since Chris and Nick were just a few dozen feet away in the living room. Your fogged head tried to remember if you had locked the door when you first entered his room, but your mind proved to have gone dumb. "Matt, ’s the door locke—" your own yelp cut you off, he had slapped your ass. Matt had an annoyed look on his face, his eyes bloodshot and looking unfocused. He smacked your clothed ass again, harder this time—making you jump.

"Focus," he groaned out in a deeper tone of voice than usual. That sent shudders through your whole body. You didn’t say anything more as you squirmed on his lap, your neck getting attacked by Matt again. Just as you rolled your hips in an awfully nice way that sent pleasure coursing through both of you, moans were on the tip of your tongues when the door burst open and Chris’ cheerful voice echoed in the otherwise quiet room. "Look! Nick actually didn’t burn the cookies this time..." His voice trailed off and grew quiet when he took in the sight of you straddling Matt with his hands all over you.

Nick mumbled something incoherently and walked in after him, only to stop in his tracks just beside Chris. "What the fuck?" Nick and Chris exchanged a look before looking back at you two. "Hey, Matt!" Chris yelled, catching the attention of the brunette under you as he looked up with annoyance at the source of the sound, his movements more sluggish due to the blunt. Then it clicked, the compromising situation, his high state and a light blush creeped up his face as his eyes widened and mouth hung open.

He quickly pushed you off his lap and looked at his brothers in horror. You burst out laughing as your back hit the mattress, the sound was so infectious that it broke any lingering tension, causing the other two to chuckle along at the absurdity of the situation while Matt looked thoroughly embarrassed. You patted the side of his leg, "c’mon don’t look too embarrassed," he glared at you before burying his face in his hands. Groaning as he mumbled a few profanities along with a quiet, "Why did they have to interrupt us?" He was still painfully hard, and you seemed to be having too much fun to think about his situation.

𓆩♡𓆪

𝒘𝒄. 551

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. English is not my first language! I wrote this while I was half asleep so I apologise if there're any typos or anything like that.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @sagesturns @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya @h3arts4nat @moosegirl96 @sofiaaguilaxx @sturniolo-fann @goingtojohnkramershouseee @sturniolosluttt @chrislilcumslvt @mattsninja @bilssturns @sturnioloszn @slvtf0rchr1s @knowingnothingnoel @shadowthesim @brookheartsmatt @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @m00nl1ghts1vt @strnlslut @ribread03 @hearts4werka @larallott @ivysturnss @chrisfavoritewhore @peiivnao

[nickfowlerrr]

crystal clear and smudgy

pairing: personal trainer!lance tucker x curvy!reader / just a little tiny hint of bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. kinda established undefined relationship. no explicit smut but sexual content. talks of working out. just a little tiny hint of bucky x reader. steve rogers has a blink and you’ll miss it appearance. mentions of oral. some shades of degradation at the beginning. cursing. bits of fluff. mention of reader having a degradation and a praise kink. little ooc lance bc he’s way sweeter and a lot more bearable here than he is in the bronze 💀 not edited simply bc i didn’t want to edit it - apologies for any mistakes. if something needs to be tagged pls lmk!

words: 4k

notes: not expecting much interaction for this one but if you do so happen to give it a read, i’d love to know what you think! personally - i really loved writing this one ☺️ as always, reblogs and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated. thank you for reading! 🩵

“Let’s go, princess, one more set,” he orders, standing over you as you lay on the ground, collapsed and completely warn out by the last twelve reps. At this angle you could just lift your leg and hit him right where it hurts.

And he’d deserve it, too.

You’re distracted from the thoughts of kicking your own personal menace by the feeling of him kicking you. Right in your side. Not anywhere near close enough to hurt, but just enough to piss you off.

“Don’t fucking kick me,” you swat at him, “jackass.”

“You just gonna lay there and take it?” he challenges, walking further up your body so he’s standing over your chest now.

By the smirk that curves his lips, you can tell he’s about to say something else as your already hot body heats further under his burning gaze. He knows what he’s doing and you want to hate him for it.

He lifts a foot, holding eye contact with you as he brings it to your chest, pressing down with just enough of his weight to ensure that you can feel it as your mouth goes dry and your head goes empty.

“We both know how well you can take it,” he taunts, stepping just a little harder as your hands fly up to his shoe and push on his foot a bit as a stilted gasp - a gasp and not a moan - leaves you.

A moment later the chime sounds at the entrance of the gym, signaling the arrival of another. Lance’s smirk taunts you a second longer, that glimmer of mischief still twinkling in his eye before he steps over you.

Your eyes follow him as he leaves the weight room to greet whoever it is at the front desk. It’s a Wednesday so you know he isn’t coaching any gymnastic classes, and he stopped taking other clients on Wednesdays after the second time you found yourselves being…interrupted by an early arrival.

Wednesdays were now exclusively reserved for you.

You know how it sounds in your head, but you also know it’s really for no other reason than him wanting to get his dick wet without interruption.

At least that’s how it started, anyway.

After the second time you were almost caught, you refused his advances at the next session. You weren’t risking it. Lance, however, couldn’t have cared less if someone had walked in on you on your knees in front of him, his dick down your throat while you sucked him off. In fact, you’re almost certain he probably would’ve liked it. When he realized you were serious, he rolled his eyes and went to the front entrance, making a show of locking the door as you watched on. He got out his phone and texted his next client that he had to cancel before he came back over to you and shoved his phone in your face.

“There, happy now?” He asked before he tossed it next to you on the bench you were sitting on.

You just looked up at him and couldn’t get a word out before he was dragging you to the locker rooms. Happy maybe wasn’t the word you would have used, but surely satisfied. Especially after the way he fucked you in front of the big mirror across the room. Forcing you to look at yourself, to watch the way he used you, how he made you feel so good and so full of him, his lips pressed against your ear as he spoke the filthiest degradations, with sprinkles of praises when you squeezed his cock just right or made a certain sound that had him groaning deeply and squeezing your soft hips even tighter. And definitely after he fucked you again in the showers. It was slower that time; steamy and yet still rough, and god, just as fucking hot.

You went home with him that night.

And begrudgingly, every other Wednesday night since.

It’s become routine. You meet here, have your training session, and after that forty-five minute mark, it inevitably devolves into you two fucking around before Lance reminds you how much more comfortable his bed is compared to whichever surface you’ve found yourself being pressed against that night.

You assumed tonight would be like any other but as you hear Lance talking, and what sounds like two other men speaking in return, you get the feeling you’re wrong.

You briefly contemplate getting that one last set in before you shoot up, eyes wide at the realization of whose voice it is you’re hearing out there. No way, you think. Shouldn’t he have his own private gym at Stark Towers?

You get to your knees and crawl over to the window of the weight room, peaking your head just up enough to be able to see who it is out there.

You fucking knew it!

Of all the gyms in this city, he had to find his way to this one.

You can’t see his face, but you’d recognize that arm and that voice anywhere. Steve Rogers stands by him, gym duffle hooked over his shoulder as Lance says something you can’t quite hear about punching bags. You sink back down to the floor before any of the three men can spot you.

You don’t know why you feel so embarrassed but there’s a very strong urge threatening to take over you and see you bolting out the back door before anyone can say a word.

…That’s a lie, actually.

You do know why you’re so embarrassed. It’s not only the decision you made but the very real implications of what that decision means…

Because really, who in their right fucking mind would ever turn down a date with the Bucky Barnes?

No one! Never you.

And yet…you did.

You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about what feelings prompted your almost immediate no from the second the rebuff left your lips.

You’re single. You have every right to go out with anyone you so please. And yet, night after night, there’s only one man who runs through your every thought.

The same man who so shamelessly flirts back with any woman in his vicinity - and makes sure you see it every damn time. You always wonder if he can see the ire you try to hide burning in your gaze. If that’s what causes his smug smirk to spread when he spots you. That glimmer of mirth in his bright blue eyes. Ughhh.

The same man who sends you completely unsolicited selfies, thirst traps, and nudes nearly every damn day. If his texts weren’t so damn incessant, personalized, detailed and pointed, you’d almost wonder who else he sends those pictures to.

The same man who calls you whenever he’s bored. At first you thought he just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice, but lately you’ve been wondering if he just wants to hear yours.

The same man whose bed you’ve found yourself sleeping in nearly every damn night the past two weeks. The nights that have put to rest your wonder of who else he gets in his bed beside you.

The same man who -

Is standing right in front of you.

Your wide eyes blink up as you feel eyes on you. Three pairs.

You clear your throat and push yourself up to stand. Lance looks like he’s about to say something but Bucky’s voice cuts his off before he can get a word out. He says your name as a question and has not only yours, but Lance and Steve’s attention as well.

One of their brows furrowed a bit more significantly than the other.

You smile at him and titter nervously, “Hey, Bucky.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. “Steve, this is,” he gestures, providing him your name in introduction. “PR…Relations?” He says, trying to remember your job title again.

“Something like that, yeah,” you laugh.

“So I’ve heard. Nice to finally meet you,” Steve extends his hand to yours in a polite shake, a friendly smile of his own on his face.

“You too,” you say as you shake hands.

Lance says nothing as he crosses his arms over his chest, and you can feel his gaze heavy on you.

“So,” Bucky says as he takes a step closer to you while Steve turns to Lance expectantly. With a bit of what you might be reading into as reluctance, Lance finally peels his eyes off you and Bucky and starts toward the boxing area near the back of the large weight room. “It’s over here,” he leads him.

You’re now standing alone with Bucky, and yet you can feel Lance’s eyes on you still. You think you like it…

Maybe he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. Unlike him, though, you don’t plan on leading anyone on just to see if he’ll care. If that is, in fact, what he has been doing to see if he can get a response from you.

“You workout here often?” Bucky asks.

“Uhm, not really, no,” you laugh lightly. “I prefer home to here but Lance is my trainer,” you nod in his direction, “we have a weekly session.”

“Oh, nice. We’ve heard good things about this place, wanted to come check it out. It usually closes early on Wednesdays, right? We had to call and set this up.”

“Yeah, it’s normally closed around six,” you say, “lucky you guys’ll have a private session.”

“You do private sessions?”

“Hm?”

“Is that why you’re here, I mean? Private session?”

“Oh,” you can feel your skin burning, “uh, yeah. Mhm,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

His lips tilt up at you and you can’t not return the smile as a little silence grows between you.

“Look, before I ask again, I want you to know that I can take no for an answer, I swear,” he says sincerely, looking into your eyes, “but uh, have you given any more thought to getting dinner?”

You take a stilted breath, your brows raising the slightest bit before you blink. You wet your lips before you force yourself to speak.

“I uhm,” you turn for half a second to glance back at Lance, finding his eyes still set on you before you return Bucky’s gaze once more, “I’m seeing somebody, actually. I kinda have been…I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that the first time. I just, uh, I. I wasn’t sure what we were- are,” you shake your head, feeling a bit flustered, “it’s a little complicated, uhm,” you let out a breathy laugh.

“No, please,” he shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. I get it. Complicated.” He rubs the back of his neck, his bicep bulging with the movement of his raised arm and the hem of his shirt lifting just a bit. Gooooooood.

You’ve said no to this god of a man twice now. Hell. You must really be in deep.

“Well, if complicated ever changes, you know how to reach me,” he offers with a light smile. You nod and give a soft one of your own.

Before Bucky has the chance to walk away, Lance is at your side, startling you a bit as you look over to him.

“You finished your last set?” He asks as Bucky looks between the two of you.

“Uh huh,” you nod. He knows you’re lying as he narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t call you out on it- for now at least.

“I gotta stay a little later tonight,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys. You watch as he takes his house key off the ring before he holds it out to you. “I’ll be home in an hour or two,” he says nonchalantly as you stare at the key dumbly for a long second before you finally reach to take it.

“Okay,” you murmur almost so quietly you barely hear yourself.

Bucky huffs a smirk to himself in realization before he speaks, “Well, it was good running into you. Have a good night. ‘M sure I’ll see you around again.”

“Yeah, you, too,” you breathe another smile of your own as Bucky passes, touching your arm briefly before making his way over to his friend.

You force yourself to then turn and face Lance completely, your wonder evident in your eyes at his actions. “You want me to-“

“Yeah,” he cuts you off. “You’re gonna end up there anyway, thought I’d save you the back and forth from your place to mine.”

Your eyes narrow at his attitude. You’re used to his cocky self assurance and the way every word seems to be laced with a taunt, but this isn’t that. He seems…you aren’t sure. But definitely off.

“I’m gonna end up there anyway?” You question, defiance and annoyance both nipping at you at once.

“Yes.” He readily supplies, taking a step closer to you, invading your space in a way you don’t normally mind when you’re alone.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because that’s what this is.”

Oh god, you think. Maybe he heard you say you were seeing someone. Maybe he knew you were referring to him and maybe he doesn’t want you thinking this is anything more than sex. You’re not seeing someone. It’s not complicated. If you ignore the calls and texts and mid day and late night and early morning rendezvous and the cuddles and showers and pet names without malice or sarcasm reserved for only you, then yeah.

Yeah.

It’s just sex.

It’s not like either of you have ever said it’s anything else, you remind yourself.

You swallow down your embarrassment as your eyes flick toward your shoes. You spot your water and think to grab it and go. You don’t really have anything else to say. Just a lot to think about.

You don’t have time to do anything, though, before Lance’s hands come to hold your jaw, tilting your face up and forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re dark, his usual glint of taunting playfulness now gone. In its place is something much more heated, more serious. If you didn’t know better you might even say possessive…

“Because you’re mine,” he adds, voice deeper and lower as he takes another step to you. His eyes flash from your own to your lips and it’s not another second before he crashes his into yours, kissing you hard. His hands hold your head as he keeps you near him while you can do nothing but kiss him back. It’s not too long but still borderline desperate. You two don’t really kiss all too often and never this intently unless he has you stuffed full of him - and never have you kissed at all in front of anyone before.

Part of you knows he’s probably just putting on a show, wanting to prove something to who he perceives to be competition, and part of you doesn’t care. But a smaller part of you thinks maybe, just maybe, it’s not so much to prove something to Bucky - but to prove something to you.

You pull away after a second, but staying close enough to still breathe him in. You’re dazed and he knows it as that cocksure smirk spreads across his lips again after he looks into your shining eyes.

“Hydrate,” he tells you, letting you go. “I’ll stretch you out when I get home,” he winks, earning a gawked face from you as he starts to walk backwards over to the boxing side of the room. God, you pray they didn’t hear him say that. You chance a glance their way and see them already caught up in a sparring match, paying you and Lance no mind.

You see his slight annoyance at your preoccupation with what they might have heard and it makes you realize that this very random run in with Bucky might have changed the course of…whatever it is this situation has been. Is?

You have certainly never seen this side of Lance before. You again wonder what it means for him because you know well how he is.

This isn’t the time or place to figure it out, though. You give him another look and nod. “I’ll see you…then, then.”

You grab your water and go for your bag on the bench beside you, tossing the key he gave you in there and grabbing your own set to hold. You give him one more fleeting look before heading for the door, it’s like you’re trying to read his mind with every glance and you are getting absolutely nothing.

-

It’s not far from the gym to his place and you’re there within fifteen minutes. It’s a little weird unlocking his door and walking into the empty home, but you’ve been here frequently enough to not feel entirely out of place.

You refill your now empty bottle with the water from his water cooler and drink some more as you set your bag down on the couch.

You don’t know how you should wait for him, or what he’s expecting, but you’re sweaty and he’s not currently here on top of you distracting you from that fact, so you decide on a shower.

You head to his bathroom and strip down before grabbing your towel - wait no, not your towel. It’s just the towel you tend to use when you shower here. You grab it from the shelf with the other folded towels and drape it over the towel bar near the shower. You start the water and let it run for a bit while it warms before you step in.

You grab your loofah - that you only keep there for emergencies - and wash with your body wash. Again, emergencies. Once you’re clean and refreshed, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of the water gently beating down on you. And you let your mind wander.

‘Because you’re mine.’

Lance’s voice runs through your mind and sends a feeling through your body like no other. He’s never said that before. So definitely. So serious. And that kiss…

You take a deep breath and try to relax some more.

The more you think, the harder it is to deny.

God, you really are here all the damn time. And going over your daily routine you realize just how much Lance fits into it. You don’t know how you didn’t see it sooner, maybe you didn’t want to, but the truth is starting to creep up on you. This isn’t just sex.

But ah, can you really say that? All you two do when you’re around each other is fuck. You don’t think there’s been a single day you’ve spent with him that you didn’t do something sexual. So maybe…maybe you’re wrong.

Maybe it’s more of a friends with benefits type thing? You’re certainly past the point of just being fuck buddies.

But friends doesn’t feel entirely right either.

You know now, and truthfully you probably knew after getting asked out by Bucky the first time, that this is more than any of that.

You feel things for him. Things that aren’t just sexual attraction or kinship.

You don’t find yourself wondering what your friends are doing at random times of the day, smiling to yourself at the prospect of seeing them soon, no… Only with him.

You don’t find yourself craving the warmth or hold of your friends when you crawl into bed at night… Just him.

You don’t get butterflies when your friend’s contacts show up on your phone with a new message or a call… Only with him.

You don’t feel the way about your friends that you do about him.

You love your friends, yeah. But it’s not the way you-

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought.

You turn off the water and grab the towel off the bar outside the shower door.

You wrap yourself up and dry off best you can before walking out to his bedroom.

Realizing you might want to commit to a real relationship with someone and declaring that you might possibly be in love with them are two very different things. And you’re still not sure you’re ready to do the former, let alone the latter.

Do you really need to do this? To address it at all? You don’t think so. No. You don’t think you will.

So what if it is just sex? It’s been working for you both so far. You can’t deny you have feelings deeper than that for him, but you really don’t want to talk about it tonight. Maybe ever, you think petulantly.

Here’s the facts:

One, you think you really like Lance. Like, like like.

Two, you know you don’t want to get involved with anyone else - including, just as a reminder, Bucky fucking Barnes. Which again, is insane to admit.

And three, label or not, you can’t argue with him. He was right.

You’re his.

You sigh and resign yourself to the bubble of discontent sitting deep in your stomach. You’re so over it.

You think about grabbing something from his kitchen to eat but decide you really don’t have an appetite for anything. You forgo clothes, sure you’ll be rid of anything you put on when Lance gets home anyway, and get into his bed.

The second your head hits the pillow, exhaustion hits you full force. You’re beat. You try to fight it for a few minutes but eventually lose out and fall asleep in the blink of an eye. Lance’ll wake you up when he gets home.

-

It’s a tickle along your side that rouses you lightly. Your eyes open so slightly, still thick with sleep as you notice the darkenedness of the room. You’re groggy but you feel his featherlight touch again, ghosting from around your bottom, over your bare hip, and trailing up your side. You know it’s him. You’ll work through your sleep in a second, you tell yourself.

You wonder if he knows you woke up; he’s being so quiet. And he’s keeping his touch so soft. He’s laying beside you as you’re turned into him, laying on your side. You still don’t have the energy to move, still half asleep.

You make a little noise as his touch tickles up your side again and you shift into him further. You’re surprised as he shushes you and pulls you in closer. You can feel him looking down at you in the near blackened room as your face is now in his chest.

You let out a soft, sleepy moan as he gently fondles your tit in his hand, squeezing lightly, just feeling you as his thumb brushes over your peaking nipple. Your brows furrow as you turn into him to be closer and another delicate sound slips past your lips. You’re hushed again as he rescinds his touch, dragging his hand back down your body once more.

You rest a hand on his chest as you relax further into him. His hand finds its place on your thick thigh, moving your leg to rest across him.

He’s bare under the sheets, you feel him. He’s half hard and you’re expecting him to slip inside you any moment.

“Been thinking about you all damn day. Driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he seems to grouse to himself as he whispers aloud, pulling you closer yet. His skin seems a little damp and you can smell his soap. He must’ve showered.

You almost force yourself to open your eyes but you’re stopped by the feeling of Lance’s lips pressing softly against your temple as he hugs you into him. He always claims it’s you who searches him out in the middle of the night to cuddle into him, but clearly he plays a part in the way you always seem to wake up tangled in one another, too.

“Lance,” you murmur sleepily, unable to open your eyes if you’d wanted to.

“Shhh,” he hushes. “Don’t talk, just sleep.”

You don’t argue, you just turn more into him; content to do just that.

But you’re even more surprised when not very long after you both settle, you feel his breathing even out as he falls completely asleep with you in his arms.

No sex.

Hmm.

This, whatever it is…

It’s complicated.

Clearly.

But clearly, it’s not that complicated.

[janiehellion]

New Blood In An Old Place

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The quietest souls have the loudest hearts, and you just found yourself staring at the sky—wondering if Daryl Dixon might be the one to make the stars in the night feel a little closer and less out of reach.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SELECTIVE MUTISM / FLUFF / MILD ANGST / SLOW BURN / CANON DIVERGENCE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.515

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: LATE S9 & EARLY S10

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You’d always been the quiet type, even before the world fell apart. Silence wasn’t something that scared you; it was where you felt most at home. And it made survival easier too. The less noise you made, the harder it was for anyone—dead or alive—to find you.

But the sudden loss of your voice wasn’t something that had happened overnight, and it wasn’t a head injury either. No, it came quietly, over time, like a shadow that only grew darker.

You’d always had a voice—loud and clear. You’d argued with friends, laughed at the dumbest jokes, and sang along to songs so loud just to annoy people in a karaoke bar alongside your friends.

You had a life.

But then, just a few weeks before the world ended, you started to notice it. At first, you brushed it off—just a little hoarseness, maybe a harmless cold. Then, when you tried to speak like you used to, nothing came out. Not even a whisper.

The feeling was like swallowing a stone, with you choking on the problem to get the words out. The doctors couldn’t explain it at first. They said it could be stress-related, maybe an anxiety disorder and coming from trauma. They called it selective mutism in adulthood, but that didn’t help you feel any better about the situation.

You could still speak, technically, since your vocal cords weren’t damaged. But when you tried to speak, it felt like something in your brain held your voice hostage. It would just come out weak.

In moments when you were alone, you could speak freely, but it wasn’t as perfect as you wanted it to be. Your voice trembled like it wasn’t used to its own sound. Still… it was there. But around other people? You just couldn’t use it anymore.

And the silence became more than just silence—it became a prison between you and the world.

In the final days before the world ended, you stopped trying completely. The fear of trying to speak only to fail took its toll. So, you leaned into it. It was easier. You could still communicate, just not with words. You had learned sign language before, but now it was something that felt more like a lifeline than a language at times.

Even after the world fell apart, after the deaths and all the losses during all those years, you still clung to being quiet. It was safer that way. It just kept the world's horrors far enough from you.

But sometimes, late at night, when you found yourself alone with your thoughts, your voice would slip through, quiet and unsure, with nobody else but the stars in the sky around to listen.

When you crossed paths with Magna’s group, you’d been alone for so long that trying to talk again seemed almost foreign. But Connie understood that without you ever having to say a thing. She figured you out right away and never tried to get you to talk; she never pushed you toward expectations.

When you met, she just looked at you and raised her hands to start signing. She’d seen right through you, understanding that your silence wasn’t a weakness. For you, it became like a secret language, something shared between survivors who didn’t need words to know how to hold each other up.

In a way, it felt good—like being given permission to go back to silence, but without the loneliness that had followed you for so long. The group simply took you in and accepted you without any restraint.

Magna was a bit hesitant about you, but you caught the looks she’d exchanged with Connie when it came to you. Kelly, on the other hand, was curious from the start, even though she held back her questions. Luke was kinder than he had any right to be, filling in all the gaps that words used to with music. And Yumiko—well, she kept her distance at first but always nodded in respect whenever you shared a knowing glance.

For once, you didn’t feel like a liability just because you weren’t talking about every thought that crossed your mind. You found friends within them. Maybe it was Connie’s warm smiles or Kelly’s easy acceptance. Or maybe it was the way they didn’t stare too long when you used your hands instead of your voice—how they gave you room to be silent without feeling the need to fill it.

There was a safety in it—an invisibility that let you see things without being seen yourself. The new world was loud enough; you didn’t need to add to the noise. Besides, words were like a last resort. Hand signs and body language could fill in the rest.

And so the days in the new world passed by. The old one had ended, and with it, so many things you had once known. But your silence remained, and you thought it would always be that way.

Until one night changed everything.

The first time you saw Hilltop, it felt like a miracle—a place that actually looked like it could hold the world at bay. People worked the fields, tended to livestock, and repaired anything that needed to be repaired. It was almost overwhelming—the noise and the life.

Your eyes wandered, taking in everything. Connie nudged you once, signing quickly, "Are you okay?"

"Just watching," you signed back and nodded, quick enough to not draw attention. She gave you a thumbs-up and returned to whatever was happening around you.

That’s when you noticed him.

You held your ground under his stare, tilting your head slightly as if to say, "What are you looking at?"

He didn’t answer, of course, just turned back to the person he’d been talking to. His crossbow was slung over one shoulder, the weapon looking as much a part of him as his worn leather vest. He seemed like the kind of man who belonged in this world—strong, observant, and… silent.

Connie followed your eyes and smirked. She signed quickly. "That’s Daryl Dixon. Quiet, almost like you. You’ll like him."

You rolled your eyes, but a part of you wondered if she was right.

To say Daryl was wary would be an understatement. You’d watched him from a distance at first, both of you not interested in any kind of interaction at all.

But over time, it changed. Maybe it was because he saw the way you signed with Connie, or maybe he just figured he’d get more out of you by observing.

At first, it was small things. Daryl would catch you signing something to Connie—a quick exchange about the day, a comment on the weather—and his brow would furrow like he was trying to decipher a code. He didn’t do anything, not right away, but you noticed how his eyes looked at your hands more often.

He was practicing off to the side when he thought no one was looking, his fingers stiff and awkward as he tried to do a hand sign he’d seen. Once, you caught him fumbling through what looked like 'hello' and 'thank you' with some kind of concentration that might’ve been funny if it weren’t so earnest.

Sometimes, you’d sign something small—'Good morning.' or 'How are you?'—just to break the silence, and he’d respond in kind, while you’d answer with a nod or a slight smile, just enough to let him know he didn’t have to worry.

But he stuck with learning it, stubbornly repeating each sign until he got it right.

And when he finally worked up the nerve to really use it? Well, it didn’t go as smoothly as he had planned.

He approached you one afternoon, just as you were sitting down with Connie once more. He looked between the two of you, then at his hands with a bit of panic. Slowly and unsure, he signed, "Ya… okay?"

Connie held back a grin as she nudged you. You smiled, nodding at him before replying, "Yes. And you?"

The look on his face changed—relief, but still with a bit of embarrassment. "Good," he signed, then quickly ducked his head and whispered to himself, "'M still learnin’ for ya…"

But Connie wasn’t going to let him go just like that. She leaned over, her hands moving fast. "Not bad. But maybe do it even slower the next time?"

Daryl just scoffed in response, but he kept at it. His signs grew smoother over time, less clumsy, and much more confident. He’d even started picking up on the little things—how you’d tap your fingers when you were nervous or how Connie’s signs slowed when she was tired.

It wasn’t perfect, but something. And you couldn’t help but notice how often his eyes found yours during those quiet moments, like he was searching for something in the silence you shared.

And that’s how things were—a wordless connection that nobody questioned.

As the months passed by, helping with farming became your hobby. There was something relaxing about it—the rows of crops and the people working. You weren’t much of a farmer yourself, not yet, but sitting next to the fields, watching, or lending a hand when someone needed it, gave you something you hadn’t felt in years.

Sometimes, you just needed to be near it—something that grew, something that reminded you of life’s persistence, even in the darkest of times. The fields, the plants, the insects, and the small living things—they gave you a sense of belonging you couldn’t quite explain.

And Daryl? He started showing up more regularly, his eyes staying less on the dirt and more on you. He’d make little comments about the crops to himself or sign quick questions to you about what you were doing.

You found yourself signing more as well, explaining things through gestures and expressions, and he watched you like he was trying to remember every movement of your hands and fingers. Occasionally, he’d try to sign back something new he learned.

"Yer patient," he signed, seemingly out of nowhere. "With me."

You glanced at him in return, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Teachin’ me," he clarified, quickly scratching the back of his neck. "Most woulda given up by now."

You shrugged with a small smile in response. "You’re trying," you answered. "But you understand me just fine. And effort matters, too… even with your heavy accent."

He didn’t respond right away; he just ducked his head away and went back to work, but you saw the tiniest bit of a smirk before he did.

With him, the quiet moments started to feel… different.

By the end of the latest day, after almost everyone else in Hilltop was already asleep, you were still there, with Daryl, but now too lost in the way the stars twinkled in the night sky.

He had an uncomfortable look about him—the one that said, 'I’m not good at this, but I’m here.'

Daryl hesitated, sitting a few feet away, not sure whether to just hang back or leave. His eyes looked between you and the sky, clearly uncomfortable but trying not to show it.

"Ya… uh, ya do this a lot?" He asked after tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

You gestured back, "Sometimes. Have you never noticed before? I mean, it's… It's peaceful, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Peaceful," he signed back, his fingers shaking a little. "I get it. Don’ get a lotta quiet no more." He sat down closer to you without asking, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body beside you, but not too close.

The first two hours passed by, and when the stars began to shine brighter through the cloudy sky, you caught him looking upward.

You nudged him gently, signing. "Pretty, huh?"

He only shrugged. "Ain’t seen ‘em like this in a while. Too much runnin’ 'round, I guess."

You smiled, and the time stretched on, but it wasn’t awkward—it was relaxing. Soon the wind picked up, the breeze feeling colder, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

But Daryl noticed immediately. He moved behind you, pulling off his vest with a gruff. "Here. Take it."

You blinked at him, shaking your head and gesturing back quickly. "No. You’ll get cold."

He snorted, putting the vest on your lap stubbornly. "Don’ matter. Ain’t much colder’n usual for me."

You hesitated before reluctantly taking the vest and slipping it on. It was warm and quite soft, with the smell of leather and something distinctly Daryl Dixon clinging to it.

"Big on me," you signed, smiling at him before watching the clouds in the sky pass by.

He smirked to himself, looking away as if he didn't want you to know what he was thinking. "Looks better on ya anyway…"

The stars above seemed brighter somehow, and without thinking, you leaned closer to him, your shoulder touching his.

He froze for a second before relaxing, his eyes looking toward you in confusion. "Ya alright?"

"Feeling cozy already," you nodded, lifting your fingers to answer. "You know… it’s strange how big the world feels."

"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, looking upward before signing back to you. "Big 'nough to make ya feel like nothin’, huh?"

"No, not nothing," you signed, shaking your head. "Small? Yeah, maybe. But not nothing."

He grunted and smirked, though his expression stayed guarded as he signed further. "Suppose so. Don’ mean it’s a bad thing, bein’ small. Keeps ya humble. Like—hell, I ain’t out here thinkin’ I’m bigger’n the stars or nothin’. That’d jus' be so damn stupid."

You bit back a grin, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. If anything, it felt right—sitting close to him and just signing along. But when another shiver went through you, it startled him out of whatever thought had his attention.

He reached out awkwardly, his hand stopping near your shoulder before pulling back to sign, since he wasn't aware of the fact you could actually listen to him, after all. "Ya still cold?"

You nodded. "A little. But I have this." You tugged at his vest, smirking a bit.

The next few minutes passed slowly, his hand touching your arm every now and then before retreating like he didn’t trust himself and thinking he might do something wrong.

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but something in his touch—or lack of it—had you leaning into him. But when you moved to sit sideways on his lap out of nowhere, his whole body stiffened like he’d just stepped into a trap, even though he didn’t push you away.

"Sharing warmth," you signed with an innocent tilt of your head, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Daryl flinched beneath you, his hands moving around like he couldn’t decide where they were supposed to go, but one finally moved near your hips.

You smiled at his reaction. "It’s okay if you don’t know what to do. I don’t, either. Believe me."

That seemed to take some of the nervousness away from him. "Ain’t that the truth? World’s gone to shit, and here we are, tryin’ to figure out how to… y’know." He gestured vaguely in front of your face.

"Be human?" You signed back, your hands moving slowly and thoughtfully.

"Yeah," he responded. "S’pose we’re doin’ fine, though. Least, I think we are."

You tilted your head to the side to look at him in the faint moonlight. He looked… softer like this. As if he was opening up in a way you never saw, and it made your heart race.

His hands brushed along your shoulder in a quick, almost hesitant motion before he brought them up again. "Ya good now? Feelin' better n' warmer?"

"Yes, I feel good," you signed, your hands moving slowly as if the moment might be destroyed if you rushed. "You make me feel… safe."

Daryl's Adam's apple bobbed hard as he swallowed, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away for sure. Instead, he just pulled you a little closer, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

"Safe’s good," he mumbled to himself. "Safe’s good. 'N stars ain’t got nothin’ on feelin' safe."

"But I still think it's strange how small we are," you signed further, your fingers lingering in the air like a painter in front of their work. "How small one can feel in this world."

"Y’ain’t small," he answered with his hands in front of your face again. "Ain’t like we’re jus', dunno… some kinda insect out here. Maybe this world’s gone to hell, but yer… bigger’n that, I guess."

You smiled, your fingers moving quickly. "And you’re not exactly a philosopher, Daryl Dixon."

He snorted at that, shaking his head. "Yeah, well… don’ needa be. 'S jus' the truth."

You shivered again, the cold breeze leaving goosebumps on your skin, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed.

"And ya still freezin'," he signed, almost accusingly, as if you hadn’t already borrowed his vest. You tilted your head, your face making it clear that the wind wasn't the only thing making you tremble.

Daryl shifted a bit, pulling his vest more tightly around your shoulders. His hands grabbed the edges of it, tugging it so it covered your chest better. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but instead, he exhaled sharply through his nose before he looked down, one of his hands twitching before moving to touch your knee.

"Damn wind," Daryl mumbled. "Can’t believe ya let it get ya like this..."

The way he said it wasn’t angry. It sounded more frustrated, like he blamed himself more than anything else as his thumb brushed over your knee, his fingers digging into your pants just enough to make your pulse quicken.

"Shit," he growled quietly, his other hand soon moving to grab your hips as if he were trying to ground himself before he leaned his head in closer. His nose touched your temple and went lower, brushing along your jawline. But Daryl didn't stop there; his lips pressed gently against your pulse point, staying there as if he wanted to remember the feel of your skin against himself all of a sudden.

"Smellin' so good… like somethin’ I don’ deserve," he whispered to himself as his hand tightened on your hips."Too close… Too close…" he growled, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Instead, he pulled you in, but only just enough, like he didn’t trust himself to go any further. "Can’t… Can’t be that close. Shouldn' be."

The muscles in his arm were twitching as if he were afraid you might slip away—afraid that if he let go, you'd disappear. He was trying to memorize it—to memorize you—trying to hold on without breaking anything inside himself.

"Why ya makin' me… feel like that?"

And then—without any warning—his tongue was dragging itself across your throat. It was slow as if he couldn’t get enough, and the feeling was almost overwhelming, like he was marking you with every slide of his tongue, each lick a little longer than the last.

His hand slid further up your back, his fingers digging into his vest around your body as if trying to pull you even closer, but his mouth never left your neck. He growled, and when he got to the curve of your jaw, he couldn’t resist—his teeth scraped against your skin, just enough to make you shiver.

"Fuckin’ hell," he growled again, but his lips never stopped moving over your skin. It was as if he needed to feel you against him, closer than close, just to make sure you were really there.

"Goddamn…" Daryl's voice cracked slightly, and you swore you felt his whole body trembling even more as he pressed closer, burying his face in the crook of your now slightly wet neck.

You wanted to sign something to him, anything, but the way his lips then moved along the curve of your neck instead of his tongue stole the thoughts right out of your mind. His nose nudged closer, and you could swear you felt him inhale deeply, his stubble brushing softly against your skin.

It was tender like a breeze but rough as a storm—the kind of closeness that set your nerves on fire and each cell ablaze.

Daryl leaned back slightly, letting you sit more fully in his lap, and the quiet groan that came out of his mouth when you adjusted your weight made your heart race and sent it into overdrive. His forehead came to rest against your cheek for a moment, his breathing uneven as if he was about to melt, his eyes half-lidded as they took you in.

His hands felt as if they were everywhere—on your back, your hips, your face—but you couldn’t focus on anything except the way he was looking at you like he was starving.

Before you could even react, Daryl's teeth sank into your shoulder, hard enough to make you wince at the soft pain, but not enough to hurt you. His mouth followed the mark he made, soothing it with his tongue before, gentle and wordlessly, his lips found your cheek.

It was slow at first, almost shy when he nudged you with his nose several times, pressing quick kisses to your cheek. But when you didn't pull away, he deepened it, his lips kissing your face with some kind of desperation that’s been building for far too long.

His fingers tangled in your hair, keeping you close to him, while his other hand still held on to your knees, holding you close enough to feel every shudder of his breath before burying his face against you again.

"Need ya…" He growled quiet and roughly against your throat, his voice hoarse, like he was trying to communicate through his actions rather than words, as if he couldn’t control himself anymore.

You leaned into him, your fingers grabbing and holding onto his shirt as he kissed his way back up to the corner of your mouth.

"Don’ lemme stop… 'cause I ain’t sure I can," he whispered, his voice soft and his eyes closed like he was trying to shut out the world and focus on the feeling of you being so close.

You could feel the way he was fighting himself, like there was a battle going on somewhere deep inside of him. It was like he was waiting for some sort of permission—while waiting to see if you’d still push him away.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching his chin, then moving down to his neck, feeling the shiver of his body beneath your touch. You didn’t rush, didn’t try to close the distance too fast. You just let the silence take a hold of time, letting him process, letting him come to terms with whatever was going on in his head.

When you finally moved, it wasn’t forceful or harsh. You tilted your head slightly, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. He froze—completely still, like the whole world had stopped.

It wasn’t the shock kind of freeze. It wasn’t fear, or panic. It was the kind that came when someone was trying to hold on to something which could break at any time, unsure if they should let go of the fragile moment. And Daryl was still fighting, still unsure. But when you didn’t pull back, when you stayed close, he let himself relax.

The kiss was slow, hesitant at first. His lips barely pressed against yours, as if testing. But then, when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you a little deeper, a little more sure. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed. It was gentle—sweet, like he was giving you all the time in the world to back away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

When you pulled back, his eyes looked into yours—wide, almost like he couldn’t believe it had happened. "Uh… I, uh…" He stammered, while caught somewhere between disbelief and relief.

Neither of you signed a word, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t such a lonely and dark place after all.

Daryl soon broke the silence, speaking more to himself than to you as he looked up at the sky. "New blood in an old place…"

You stopped breathing for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as you listened to him. It wasn’t a question, just a statement—a realization like the stars had aligned at that very moment.

New blood in an old place.

It could have meant many things, but as you let it sink in, you realized it’s his way of talking about you—about the way you’ve come into this world, this place. You were different from the ones who’ve weathered here, those who’ve learned how to survive in the rain.

Maybe you were a spark—untouched by the bitterness of a storm cloud that never really went away until now. At least… for him. It was like Daryl was seeing you in a different light that shined brighter like the stars in the night.

You leaned in slightly, a little nervous, but you finally spoke—really spoke. "Maybe it's not about being new. Maybe it's just about finding somewhere that feels… like it could be home."

Daryl’s eyes went wide. He stared at you as if he hadn’t fully processed the fact that you’d spoken—that you had actually spoken.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parted in shock. "Did ya jus'—" He stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "Yer… talkin’?"

You could feel the way his hands trembled, his eyes staring at you like he was afraid to blink.

"Say my name," he demanded, cupping your face and looking into your eyes. "Say… my name."

You hesitated, your stopping for a second before the word came out nervously. "Daryl..."

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite understand. "Jus'... say it again."

You swallowed hard, the sound of your own voice feeling not so foreign anymore with his name on your lips. "Daryl."

He didn’t say anything further. He just held you, now both his arms wrapped around you like he needed to keep you there to believe it was real.

And then, in that same instant, he leaned forward, one hand grabbing your chin, but this time with a bit more force. His lips found yours again, rougher this time, but still full of that same sweetness, like he was trying to devour you. His tongue slipped into your mouth—not slowly, not careful, just all-consuming.

It was a warning, as if he was reminding you—he wasn’t letting you go—he was marking you, claiming you. It was a kiss that spoke for him without saying any words at all, a kiss that told you that you weren’t just new blood anymore—you were a part of this place, and of him.

The world still seemed dark around you, but with him at your side and bright stars up in the sky, it didn’t seem quite as impossible to face those shadows anymore.

You were new blood—but you were home.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: An attempt at writing fluff, I guess. And honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. If some parts and scenes feel a little repetitive, that’s me trying to slowly build intimacy because I didn’t want to rush anything.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema @ch3r0k33-r0s3

[lairofsentinel]

Mourning with the Crows

Warning: I apologise in advance for my bitterness that sometimes spills into the text like the Blight when it comes to the murder of the Lore and tone that Veilguard has done to the DA world.

I've not seen this quest on YouTube or anywhere, so probably it's the only "extra" content you can have for Lucanis, and curiously is the only time where we can ASK HIM about something personal [his opinion on a topic that is not boring coffee or killing].

As it is obvious, it can only be triggered when you let Treviso be blighted.

Before this event, you have to do 3 quests that are the same one copy-pasted three times: go find X, they have became darkspwan, so you have to kill them. This is the fate of 3 crows we interacted with a bit more if you save Treviso: Heir, the crow-trainer [I laugh so much with this character, she can't be less crow at all, what they did to the lore?]; Fletcher, the faction vendor; and Chance Candide, an Orlesian Crow [yes, Orlesian... I'm dying, what's this?!] who gives you some quests about an affair between a Venatori and a Crow if you saved Treviso [and he is totally fine with a Crow abandoning the Crows for love... I'm mourning with the Crows too, for the Crows, for the whole lore]

Anyway, we go to the memorial that has an imposing statue of a Crow, as usual a nice touch of Antivan dramatics, probably the only thing they preserved about the lore.

Teia and Viago are there, and we see them remember the three Crows that we had to kill because they were too far blighted.

No matter what option you pick, Lucanis appears out of the blue with a very sceptical tone:

We are informed [implicitly] here that Lucanis certainly had no friends, just few acquaintances among the crows and local merchants and, of course, cafe workers. Still he wanted to return to that level of familiarity once he recovered his life from the Ossuary, despite the irreversible changes in him.

And here, only here, for FIRST TIME in the whole game, you can ask him something personal, something that makes him a bit more than just coffee jokes and assassin stuff: Do you believe in anything? The most ambitious, brutal question [for dav parameters, of course] we have in this game which has denied us not only the social conflicts of Thedas [and Tevinter in particular!] but also the religious ones. Of course, his answer is as bland as the game in general on these topics: He basically is an atheist, that due to an excess of pain and suffering, "wants to believe" that there is something else hearing people's cries. It's a strange argument to make, since suffering may reinforce the atheist vision of characters, but maybe this small bit of hope he wants to grab was inspired by his own situation in the Ossuary: maybe he found in Rook's action the answers to his pleas for the nightmare of the Ossuary to stop. And maybe he is hoping that after all this pain on Treviso, somehow, some power can help them to heal the city, as his pain was stopped with the presence of Rook in his life. Wishful thinking, Neve would say.

Still, the whole tone of this scene gives a constant atheist vibe to him: he knows there is too much suffering in the world for a big power not to act and help, so maybe, the natural conclusion is that there is no such power at all.

At the end of the scene we have the option to toast for 3 different concepts, each of them "attached" to each of the Crows in the screen: The memory of the dead, to Viago; The future, to Teia, and Vengeance, of course, to Lucanis.

[readngandweepng]

rambling about a dom ftm low-honor arthur with a sub top reader.

gn amab top reader. pretty much just a bunch of unprotected sex so some talk of pregnancy and a little bit of public sex. mostly proofread. also this IS supposed to be consensual, even if it's not blatantly stated.

just thinking about low honor arthur who, after a quick cat and mouse game, has your wrists tied to the headboard of a hotel room you’d been staying the night in. he still has his hat on his head as he rides your cock, rolling his hips with a crude grace befitting of him. his walls squeeze around you with the periodic drop of his hips, and even though you’re tied up (and well. this is arthur’s doing after all) he’s still got a hand pressed against your chest to keep you held down. 

his groans can only barely cover up the wet squelching sounds coming from his cunt as he humps your cock. you’ve already cum once—or maybe twice now, you’re not really sure—but a wave of euphoria washes over you anyway as the coil in your stomach snaps, his pussy having successfully milked another one from you in what felt like no time at all. 

for a moment arthur keeps rutting on your cock, until finally the ache subsides and he’s pulsating around you, his rough motions slowly coming to a stop. while you manage to keep your eyes open you can see arthur setting his hat down onto the table beside the bed, his hips raising off your aching cock. foolishly you think he’s giving you a break, but you know better. this is arthur; he wants to be filled to the absolute brim. as expected, he sits on your dick again, evoking a long, breathy groan as his head falls back. 

“jus’ sit tight and let me use this cock o’ yours, all right?” he reminds you gruffly at the sight of your twitching arms, his hand residing on your chest keeps its hold as if you’ll break out of the restraints. not that you’re trying to, and he knows that, but the feeling of holding you down is evidently making him as wet as it is making you hard. 

he leans over you, his hands now gripping the headboard that shakes against the elegantly-plastered walls. you weakly buck your hips in an attempt to meet his determined bouncing but it’s futile when he squeezes around you. your mind goes blank, and now arthur’s lips are at your ear as he groans, muttering a nonsensical mix of praise and whatever else. he’s so slick that you slip out of him for a moment before he takes you again, humping your cock until once more you cum inside of him with what little you can and he immediately follows before stopping and leaning back. 

his chest is glistening with sweat as it rises and falls with his now evened breathing. he groans as he falls forward again, this time resting his body against yours, his lips back to your ear to kiss beneath it. he unties your hands with a dirty smile before he closes his eyes. you follow suite in slumber, only occasionally waking up to the feeling of arthur’s hips moving in his sleep, and the thought of arthur riding your aching cock again in the morning has your head fuzzy and your dick twitching with an exhausted but enticed delight.

thinking about how if you were fucking him without a condom he would lock his legs around your waist when you’d try pulling out and make you cum inside of him, just for the hell of it. afterwards he’d give you a faux scolding, talking about how irresponsible you ought to be to do something like that, only to flip the both of you over and ride you ‘till you cum inside of him again and again until he’s really had his fill. 

i also like to imagine the confidence that low-honor arthur has; if he wanted you, kissing up your neck and pulling you flush against him works well enough, but sometimes he likes to lay flat on his back, stripped naked with his legs spread, giving his pussy a good slap before taunting you with some sort of challenge. if he’s up for it, he might rub his clit, making you watch as pumps his fingers into his cunt. if he cums, he’ll spread himself open to entice you with the sight of his gushing cum. most of the time he’ll let you have your way, fucking into him at whatever pace you desire so long as your cum ends up in the same place, nestled deep inside him.

you’d fuck arthur while he’s bended over where after you’re done, you’ll pull out and watch as he spreads his legs, pulling at the folds of his pussy to show your cum oozing out of him like honey. he might even sit on your face and have you lick him clean too.

now arthur wouldn’t actually want to get pregnant.. however that doesn’t stop him from wanting to get fucked like he does. he’ll loll his head back and let you fuck him like you're trying to breed him, splitting his pussy open on your cock and filling him up to where his legs feel like they’re permanently spread apart to give you room to slot yourself back into him. arthur will lay back and listen to the sound of your cock pounding into his wet cunt and only when your old cum is forced to seep out of him in favor of a new batch will he close his legs, making sure his belly is kept full with just you. 

(and god knows if he let it happen he wouldn’t be caught dead without a big belly, always walking around camp barefoot having to stick to just doing chores. he’d be popping out kids left and right without a care in the world. abigail would faint if she saw arthur’s belly growing again months after already just having one kid. thinking about it, abigail or dutch would probably have to give you and arthur a different version of The Talk if he doesn’t wave it off or else he might really find himself bedridden with child more times than he can count)

arthur doesn’t need to be pregnant to have the whole camp know what you’re up to when you go out at night. you’ll return the next morning with bags under your eyes alongside an arthur with a little pep in his step. although you’ll be lucky if he’s considerate enough to actually leave camp; he may even offer an innocent night bath at some lake where he’ll strip his clothes directly in your line of sight, sauntering into the water with a not very innocent smirk on his face to pair. you might actually get a bath in, but it probably won’t do you any good when he just lays you on your back on the grass and rides you anyway. 

as much as he loves being on top of you, arthur also likes being flat on his stomach. he’ll moan and groan more than usual, especially if you’re at camp he’ll be egging you on to take him harder and will reach back to grab your legs and fuck himself on your dick if you slow down or try to pull out. he likes having you press him against the dirt or grass so that afterwards he can really see the mess you made painted on his body (as well as use it as an excuse to bathe together). 

he’ll talk a lot during sex too, but it’s mostly just muttering about your dick or calling you names. he’ll call you a whore as he bounces on your cock while leading your head to his chest to suck on his nipples. arthur would also leave marks on your body where everyone can see and will revel in the comments unsuspecting people will make that want to know who left them. (john will roll his eyes because dear god does he know who left them.)

of course i have to add how much arthur would love clothed sex. he likes it fast and dirty, and the time it takes to undress is simply one minute too long for him. he’ll ride you through your jeans if he has to, he’ll hump and grind against your cock until the front of your clothes are soaked.

among things like a game of chase i think a form of foreplay for arthur would be something like poker. especially if you’re bad at it, he’ll play any type of game with you if he knows he’ll win so he can have his way with you. if you want he’ll even hunt you down like a wolf, stalking you in the woods until you’re so eager you can hardly stand it, and then he’ll strike; knocking you down so fast you won’t even know what hit you until your belt is unbuckled and arthur’s on your dick looking down at you like he just caught his prey. 

one of arthur’s favorite things is having you eat him out, he’ll keep his legs around your head to make sure your mouth stays on him. he wants everything you’ll give him, your tongue diving into him stretching him out. he wants to feel you suck and spit on his clit, your teeth nibbling on him and pulling his lips apart to dip your fingers into his cunt. if his legs aren’t shaking by the end of it he’ll make you do it all again till your jaw is aching and your face is covered in his slick.

last thing i think arthur would actually like getting caught having sex. he likes the thrill of fucking at camp where someone like micah or john can hear, but even more so would love getting caught and walked in on. even if he's wanted, he'll ride you in a hotel room with the door cracked open, moaning just a bit louder than he usually would. arthur will have you bend him over somewhere in the woods, and isn't afraid to make direct eye contact with any passer by who sees. he'll shoot anyone who's truly a threat of course, but if he were to hear or see someone touching themself as they watch you, he'll cum on the spot with his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

[delulupunk]

How the batboys would react to anniversaries!

Dick Grayson

He really tries his best to spend the day with you or carve out some time, but if you’re a civilian then it’s hard. He’s got to lead the titans, stop Mr Freeze, make sure Bruce doesn’t adopt anyone else, stop Mr Freeze again!

When he finally gets to you he makes it well worth your time. He’ll confidently give you your favourite flowers because he knows exactly which ones they are.

Dick is a diehard romantic so he’ll bring you back to where you had your first date, or wherever you first met depending on how memorable the moment was.

“Sooooo, I’m assuming you remember this place…” He’ll say with a cheeky smile- nervously he’ll add, “You do like it right?”

Expect a lot of nostalgia to the early days of your relationship, which will lead to you two falling in love with each other again.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the entire World.”

Jason Todd

“Well… do you want to celebrate our anniversary?”

Jason doesn’t believe it should be any different from any other days in your relationship. Sure he wants to commentate and appreciate your time together, but you two shouldn’t be doing anything drastically different right? After all you both put a 110% into your relationship naturally.

He’ll definitely buy you a very thoughtful gift, most likely a book that reminds him of you. However Jason doesn’t have the confidence to give it to you in person, because he’s scared you’ll reject the idea or throw his affections back in his face.

Instead he’ll leave the gift for you on the beside table with a note. Which is short and to the point, but again he’s worried that he may be overestimating how much you truly care for him, so he acts aloof.

“For you, happy anniversary.”

Tim drake

He’ll probably be a few minutes late to the date looking totally disorientated. Shoving your favourite flowers into your hand he’ll breathlessly give you an apology.

“Sorry-“ pant, “riddler,” pant, “is crazy,” wheeze.

Tim is looking for more of a casual day rather than a massive extravagant event. He just wants to spend time with his lover and feel free to be himself.

The pair of you will go on a date doing something that you both find equally enjoyable so the day isn’t solely spent on one of you.

Tim’s definitely bought you something expensive to give you after the date is over. It’s something that reminded him of you when he walked past a store in the diamond district a few weeks ago and he couldn’t resist. Secretly he hopes you like it, one because his bank account took a bit of a dent, two the store doesn’t do returns and three he’ll be scared he doesn’t understand you properly.

“It suits you perfectly.”

Damian Wayne

You and Damian have dinner at Wayne Manor, which sounds very simplistic, but the little details are what makes the anniversary special.

Either you or Alfred will make the dinner, while Damian goes patrolling. This means he has the entire night to give to you and not Gotham.

You both dress up as if you’re going to a fancy gala and insist on no interruptions.

It’s just you and Damian with the fireplace silently rustling behind you and the opulence of Wayne Manor to embrace you.

The affair is quiet and romantic, not overstated and tiring. It’s just the right pace for you and Damian.

No words need to be said at the end of the meal as you both stare into the fireplace, save for a previous statement.

“Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

Duke Thomas

“No it’s next week right?”

Duke is so sweet and loves you to the moon and back. Unfortunately he’s a bit forgetful. Duke however makes things up for you in an impressive fashion. If there’s one thing Duke knows it’s kindness.

You’d think he hadn’t even forgotten considering how he takes you to all the right places and says all the right things. The day goes by so quickly but it’s completely jam packed with activities.

“I know you always wanted to, so why not today!”

Since he forgot the anniversary he doesn’t buy you a specific gift, but to you the day in itself is a gift. He completely forgoes patrol all together for you.

“Please forgive me, I love you too much to let you go.”

[daniiiboo]

mv1- champion

summary- after the last vegas gp, you and max have a cute moment :,)

dani's thoughts- AHHH! sorry it took me so long to post this, my procrastination boooo :( but congrats to max!!! im so happy for him :D

warning- uh nu uh nothin :)

word count- 1139

Bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip shone through the night, casting colorful luminescence across the city. The neon signs and the hustle of the crowd seemed almost like a world of their own, but inside the race paddock, everything was laser-focused on one thing: Max Verstappen's chance at his fourth World Championship.

It was an intense weekend, the energy palpable in the air, with fans lining the grandstands, their eyes fixed on the Red Bull driver. You’d been by Max’s side throughout the season, traveling the globe, sharing in both the highs and lows of his journey. Tonight, it all came down to this. If he could finish strong and secure the points he needed, he’d be crowned World Champion once again.

You were in the paddock, your heart racing as the laps ticked down. Max had been flawless all weekend, his precision in qualifying, the strategy in the race. You could see it in his eyes. He was on the edge of greatness. The fourth title was within his grasp.

From your vantage point alongside the pit wall, the roar of the cars passing was barely audible, yet tension hung thick in the air. You saw Max flying past every lap as he overtook the others with his gliding Red Bull through corners. Each turn was proof of the amount of work and commitment he has been putting into this. The end of the race was close by. He had done it. Max Verstappen was going to win the 2024 Formula 1 World Championship. He had secured enough points to clinch the title with a race to spare, an achievement few drivers could boast. The whole Red Bull garage erupted into a chorus of cheers, but you didn't hear them, not really. The only sound one could hear was the beating of one's own heart, like a drum with excitement and pure pride.

When Max crossed the line with the checkered flag waved above him, time literally came to a standstill. It all felt like a dream-a surreal moment when the world stopped for the feat that was just accomplished by this driver. Suddenly, the radio crackled as his race engineer's familiar voice cut through, congratulating Max on his fourth World Championship.

Max let out a deep, heavy breath, and on his lips, a beaming smile formed. Not a celebrating-after-a-win smile, but something a bit deeper, something that had been earned.

A few moments later, Max pulled into the pits, his Red Bull team surrounding him, ecstatic, clapping him on the back. You stood there, frozen for a moment, watching him as he climbed out of his car. His face was hidden behind the helmet, but you could see the way his shoulders relaxed, a quiet relief washing over him.

And then, his eyes met yours.

And then there it was-the look so familiar yet so full of emotion, love, and gratefulness. He walked up to you while the people surrounding him chanted and cheered, but at this moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you.

You stepped forward as he approached, your heart swelling with pride. You'd always believed in him, in his ability to be the best-but watching him win his fourth World Championship, standing right there in Las Vegas, made it all so real. The fact that you were here for the entire journey was what really hit you.

Max came to a stop right in front of you, yanking his helmet off to reveal wet hair and a tired, yet triumphant expression.

"Max," you whispered, your voice hoarse from emotion.

He didn't say a word, instead reaching for you, pulling you into a tight hug. His hands were trembling, a rare show of vulnerability for the usually composed driver.

“I did it,” he whispered, his voice full of awe. “I really did it. Four titles…”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, brushing your fingers gently across his face. “You’re incredible, Max. You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m so proud of you.”

A smile stretched across his face, his eyes glowing with both joy and disbelief. “We did it together.”

You shook your head, laughing through the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“You did it, Max. You’re the one who put in the work, who never gave up, who fought through everything. I’m just… I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

Max chuckled, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

 "Lucky? I'm the lucky one. You've been by my side through every race, every challenge, every sleepless night. I couldn't have done it without you.”

There was something so grounding about Max in that moment. In the midst of celebrations, press, and flashing cameras, he remained the same old Max one had always known. He was humble, dedicated, and unyielding in his way to greatness. Yet what made him so special was how he never forgot the people who had been there to support him-especially you.

As the cheers from the Red Bull garage grew loud, you could feel the pull of the moment, the whirlwind of emotions, the feeling of watching history. The team swarmed around them, and Max turned back toward them, giving high-fives and accepting congratulations, but his hand was still in yours. His fingers were tangled with yours, holding onto you like he did not want to let go.

It was all happening so fast, and yet you were in no hurry. You would savor this moment, the moment when Max Verstappen became a four-time World Champion in Las Vegas, with you by his side.

As the celebrations had died down, and the crowd started to clear out, Max took your hand and led you out of the paddock. Above, the lights of Las Vegas shone brightly on the Strip, and with them, Max turned that very same smile to you.

"What do you say we head out and celebrate?" he asked, full of excitement, yet strangely quieted.

You smiled, knowing this moment would stick in your head forever. "I think we've earned it."

Max tightened his grip on your hand, leaned in to brush a kiss against your mouth, and then he'd take you out into the night, together, off to celebrate his win really like Max Verstappen style. The world had come to see his greatness-again-but you? Just there, sharing in this victory with the man that you loved.

And as you walked hand in hand down the streets of Las Vegas, all lit up, you could not help but feel your chest swell with pride. This was his moment, yes-but it was also yours, because in the end, it was about the journey that you have shared together.

Max Verstappen had his fourth title in the bag, and with you by his side, nothing was impossible.

[levisjinchuriki]

open arms - chapter 2

summary: you feel like a burden, leeching off of kento's kindness. he assures you he's more than happy to care for you

warning: angst, kento being a good friend, pregnancy, ex is a cheater, mention of depression and crying

when you wake the next morning, there’s a moment where the heaviness hasn’t caught up to you yet. for a few seconds, you feel at peace, like your world didn’t just crumble around you. you allow yourself to pretend that nothing has changed—that yesterday never happened, that you’re not standing on the edge of something you can’t even fathom.

but then it hits you. this isn’t your apartment. the walls are unfamiliar, the furniture not quite right, and everything is just a little too quiet. your breath catches as the memories flood back: the anger, the betrayal, the way your heart had splintered into a thousand jagged pieces. the man you thought you were going to marry one day—your best friend, your partner, the one who was supposed to be your forever—cheated on you. 

and now, as if the pain of the betrayal wasn’t enough, there’s something else—something you can’t ignore. the undeniable truth that you’re carrying his child. it’s not just the loss of trust—it’s the life growing inside you, the reminder of what was supposed to be and what now feels like a cruel twist of fate. the tears begin to sting behind your eyes, but before the panic can fully set in, you hear a soft knock at the door, and it pulls you from your spiraling thoughts.

"y/n?" nanami’s voice is gentle, careful, as though he’s aware of the delicate space you’re in. "i didn’t want to wake you too early. i just made some tea... whenever you’re ready”.

right—you're in nanami’s home. it’s a place you’ve been to countless times throughout your friendship, and it’s always brought you peace. but even then, you can’t shake the thought of yesterday. it’s there, haunting you in the corners of your mind. 

you take a deep breath, gathering yourself. for a moment, you close your eyes, trying to find some kind of balance. it’s hard, but you can’t stay in bed forever, can’t let it swallow you whole.

with some effort, you sit up. your muscles protest, the tiredness of your body not quite matching the urgency of your mind. standing feels like a small victory in itself. 

when you open the door, nanami is standing on the other side. his eyes—the ones that always seem to see right through you—scan your face, taking in the exhaustion, the sadness, the lingering pain that’s still so visible even when you try to hide it. he watches you with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, a heaviness that makes it harder to keep the walls up.

"good morning" he says, his voice low, but it’s not just the greeting. it’s an offering—one that’s soft and unassuming, as if he’s letting you choose how to accept it. after a brief pause, he adds, "did you sleep well?".

you hesitate. the lie is right there, waiting on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. not to him. not now. you don’t even know if you’re capable of pretending you’re okay.

"better than i thought i would" you admit, your voice a bit hoarse, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. there’s no point in hiding, not with nanami. his patience, his quiet understanding, has always made it easier to be honest, even when you didn’t have the words for it.

he nods, his movement slow and deliberate, as if to say i understand, even when nothing more needs to be said. it’s enough. you don’t have to explain further.

he steps aside and gestures for you to follow him. you do, letting him guide you into the kitchen. nanami pulls a chair out for you and sets a cup of tea in front of you, along with a small plate of toast and fruit. it’s simple, but there’s a comfort you hadn’t realized you were craving. he doesn’t ask for anything, doesn’t push you to talk or pretend to be okay. instead, he waits, silently offering what he can—small acts of care that feel like they’ve become lifelines in a world that’s no longer familiar.

you’re grateful for it—the thoughtfulness, the quietness of the moment, the sense of normalcy in this space. it’s a modest gesture, but it feels like something more, like nanami’s way of telling you that, even when the world is falling apart, you don’t have to navigate it alone.

nanami joins you at the table, his own cup of tea cradled between his hands. he gives you the space you need, knowing that sometimes silence is what heals the most. there’s no rush, no pressure—just the sound of the tea gently streaming, the soft scrape of a chair, and the gentle hum of the morning outside.

you wrap your hands around the warm cup, letting its heat seep into your palms, grounding you in the moment. the stillness between you is peaceful. it’s a kind of unspoken understanding. nanami doesn’t demand anything from you—not words, not explanations, not even a smile. 

you look up at him, your gaze meeting his. there’s something in his expression that makes you feel centered. "thank you” you manage to whisper. your voice carries the weight of everything you mean but can’t fully express—for being here, for being patient, for seeing me when i feel so lost. it’s simple, but those two words feel like they hold the universe in them.

nanami’s gaze softens as he looks at you, his features gentle, patient. he doesn’t say anything at first, just gives you a small, comforting nod that seems to melt away the tension you didn’t realize is in your shoulders. “you don’t need to thank me” he says, his tone as gentle as ever, like he’s trying to ease the burden off of you, one word at a time. they sink in deeply. you hadn’t realized how much you needed this—how much you needed someone to just be there for you. no judgments or expectations. he walls you’ve so carefully built around yourself start to crumble, one brick at a time. 

you take a sip of your tea to keep yourself from crying. the heat of the cup soothes some of the tension that’s still clinging to your body, and for a moment, you let yourself focus on that–just the tea, your breathing, and the calmness of nanami’s home.

you don’t know where to begin, or even how to talk about everything that’s weighing on your heart. the thought of it all feels overwhelming, like there are too many pieces to sort through, too many emotions tangled together. but you don’t have to rush, you remind yourself. not here. not with nanami.

he isn’t pressing you for answers, or even asking you to speak before you’re ready. he’s just here– like he always has been– offering his silent support. 

“i don’t know how to move forward from this” you finally say, your voice fragile and unsure. you hadn’t even realized how much you were holding in until the words slipped out.

nanami doesn’t respond right away. he takes a sip of his tea, his eyes thoughtful. you can see him considering your words, weighing them carefully.

“you don’t have to have it all figured out right now” he says gently, his voice smooth and warm like the tea in your hands. “one step at a time. i’ll be here with you”.

there’s no pressure, no judgment, just a quiet understanding that you don’t have to have all the answers today—or tomorrow, or the next day. the future feels uncertain, heavy with all the things you’re still processing, but nanami ensures that you don’t have to carry it all alone. his promise, though unspoken in many ways.

you’re still scared. still unsure of what the future holds. but knowing that nanami will be here, supporting you through the unknown, makes the uncertainty feel just a little more bearable. and somehow, that small bit of comfort feels like the first step toward finding your way forward.

—

the weekend flies by in a blur of quiet conversations and moments of fragile peace. each day, nanami has quietly anchored you, making sure to prepare your tea every morning just as he had the first day. it becomes a small ritual, a daily reminder that, despite everything, there’s someone who cares deeply for you.

monday morning arrives, and nanami wakes up early to prepare for his workday. he moves about the house with ease, making sure to leave some tea for you when you’re ready. he doesn’t wake you, not wanting to disrupt your rest.

when you eventually rise, you take your time, not burdened by the usual rush of responsibilities. the absence of urgency feels strangely comforting, a small relief from the chaos of the past week. you shuffle to the kitchen, expecting to find nanami there, as you have each morning. but as you enter the room, the sight of the empty space sends a pang of unease through you.

the kitchen, which had been a place of warmth and reassurance, now feels eerily quiet. his absence makes you feel abandoned, as if the stability he offered was just another illusion. the sense of being alone again, even if only temporarily, is a harsh reminder of the upheaval you’ve been through.

but then, your eyes fall on a note left on the counter. it’s a simple piece of paper, folded neatly with a few words written in nanami’s familiar handwriting. your heart skips a beat, and you slowly make your way toward it, hesitant yet hopeful. 

good morning. breakfast is in the fridge for you. help yourself to anything in the pantry for lunch. i’ll make dinner when i get back from work

relief washes over you as you read the words. it’s simple, but it’s everything you need to hear. nanami hadn’t forgotten about you, hadn’t left you behind, even though his absence had made the world feel a little colder. he’s reminded you that he’s there—that he hasn’t gone anywhere for too long, and that you still have a place here.

you set the note down on the counter, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. the knot in your stomach loosens slightly. the tea on the counter, still steaming softly, feels like a promise—a continuation of the quiet support he’s shown you all weekend.

nanami is giving you so much—his time, his patience, his space—and he’s doing it freely, without expecting anything in return. and yet, with every act of kindness, discomfort begins to settle in your chest. you’re accumulating a debt, one you’re not sure how to repay. the more he gives, the more you feel the inability to contribute anything back. you’ve already been a burden, and nanami’s unwavering generosity only builds on that guilt. he doesn’t expect anything in return, you know that much, but the awareness of your own struggles makes you feel as though you’re taking more than you deserve.

your heart aches with the weight of his selflessness, and a small, uncomfortable knot forms in your stomach. how long can you lean on his goodwill before it becomes too much? how long before you start feeling like you’re taking advantage of the very person who’s trying to help you heal?

you know, deep down, that nanami doesn’t see it that way. that his kindness is rooted in genuine care, not in some expectation of repayment. but it’s hard to shake the feeling that, with every ounce of support he gives, you’re only growing more distant from the person you used to be—the person who could stand on her own, who could offer something in return.

—

the thought of being a burden torments you all day. you hate that you’ve come here, unannounced and vulnerable, relying on nanami’s generosity.

you stare down at your plate, your appetite fading as the tightness in your chest grows heavier. nanami is so calm, so patient, but it doesn’t stop the gnawing feeling that you’re taking advantage of him. the kindness he’s shown feels almost too much—like you’re asking for more than he should be willing to give. 

when you finally speak, your voice is steady but carries an underlying uncertainty. “i should probably start apartment hunting soon”. it’s a statement meant to feel like control, like you’re taking the reins back and stepping away from the safety net he’s built for you. it’s the only way you can think of to make yourself feel less like a burden.

his reaction is immediate. his eyes flick to you, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of concern that softens his usual calm demeanor. he sets his fork down slowly, his expression turning serious, almost stern. the shift in his mood is enough to make your heart skip a beat. y

“apartment hunting?” he repeats, his tone carrying a clear note of disapproval. it catches you off guard, making you second-guess yourself. “why do you feel like you need to rush into that?”. his voice holds a protectiveness that makes you feel vulnerable, as if he’s trying to shield you from something more than just an apartment search.

you feel the need to justify yourself, to make him understand that you’re not trying to push him away, but instead trying to stand on your own. “i don’t want to overstay my welcome” you say, your voice softer now. “you’ve done so much for me already. it’s only fair that i find my own place and start getting things back to normal”.

your words hang in the air between you, thick with tension. nanami doesn’t speak right away, and the silence stretches longer than you anticipated. what does he think? does he feel like you’re ungrateful? does he think you’re pushing him away?

nanami’s response is firm, his brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly, as if he can’t quite comprehend why you would even consider feeling that way. “you don’t need to do that” he says. it’s clear now that this isn’t about the apartment. this is about you. he’s not just worried about the logistics of finding a place for you to stay; he’s worried about you—the emotional weight you’re carrying, the sense of being overwhelmed, and the stress of rushing into decisions that might add to that burden. his concern goes far beyond what you’ve said, and in his eyes, you see a determination to help you feel grounded again.

the words spill out before you can stop them, a raw confession that makes your throat tighten. “i just feel like a leech” you admit, the shame evident in your voice.

nanami’s expression hardens instantly, and a flicker of something protective passes through his gaze. he leans forward slightly, his eyes locking onto yours, intense and unwavering. his warning look is sharp.

“don’t” he warns, his voice low and stern. “you’re not leeching off of me. stop calling yourself that”.  you feel a lump form in your throat. his gaze doesn’t soften, though his tone shifts slightly, filled with a kind of quiet authority. “you’re going through a difficult time. the last thing you need is to add guilt on top of everything else”. nanami wants to make you understand that his support comes without strings attached. there’s no condition, no expectation of repayment. he’s not helping you because he has to. he’s helping you because he wants to. it’s a reminder that you don’t need to apologize for leaning on him. that he’s here because he genuinely wants to be, and that your well-being is what matters most to him right now.

“i’m sorry” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him. “i just… i don’t want to take advantage of you”. nanami shakes his head.

“you’re not” he says firmly. “don’t apologize for something you haven’t done. you’re here because you need to be. and that’s all that matters”. you take a deep breath, feeling a little lighter. nanami’s words have given you a bit of space to breathe—to stop thinking of his kindness like it’s something you need to repay immediately.

you nod slowly. you’ve been carrying this sense of guilt, as if you’re taking up space in his life that you shouldn’t, as though your presence here is a burden you need to quickly relieve. but nanami’s words cut through that, helping you see that it’s not about what you owe him or how much you think you’re taking. 

“but i can’t stay here forever” you say, your voice soft, almost fragile. nanami pauses again, his expression shifting into one of quiet seriousness. his brows furrow ever so slightly as his eyes meet yours, searching. 

“why not?” he asks. the question is simple, but the force of it catches you off guard. it’s not harsh, not challenging—but there’s something in his tone, a genuine curiosity, that makes you hesitate. the question lingers in the air, and for a moment, you’re lost for words. your brows furrow in response, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions inside you. his simple question feels like an unspoken challenge—one you hadn’t expected to face. 

“kento…” you say. “i appreciate everything you’ve done for me. i really do. but i can’t. it’s not fair to you”. nanami’s expression remains neutral, unaffected by your words. he holds your gaze with unwavering seriousness, as though he’s ready to stand firm against whatever comes next, regardless of what you say.

“let me be the judge of what’s fair. you’re not a burden. and you’re not inconveniencing me. if you think you’re taking too much, then you’re missing the point. i’m offering this because i want to. you don’t need to protect me from your struggles”. you want to argue, to insist that there’s no way you can continue to rely on him like this, but his faith in his own decision softens the urge to fight back.

you feel a tear slip down your cheek, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming release of emotions you’ve kept bottled up for so long. the kindness he’s shown, the way he’s been so patient with you, is more than you’ve allowed yourself to accept from anyone in a long time.

“thank you” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “for everything”.

nanami’s hand moves across the table, his fingers brushing gently against yours. “you don’t have to thank me” he says softly, his voice calm and warm. “i want you to feel safe. that’s all”. the words, simple as they are, sink deep into your heart. for a moment, the weight of everything doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. the fear, the guilt, the uncertainty—they’re still there, lurking in the background, but they don’t feel as insurmountable as they did before. nanami’s offer to stay, to support you, to give you space to heal at your own pace—it makes all the difference.

with a deep breath, you let go of the guilt and allow yourself to rest in the comfort of his words. “i think i could use some more time if that’s okay” you admit.

nanami nods, his expression softening with approval. “take all the time you need” he 

you find yourself accepting his offer with a small “okay”. the word feels like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, a step toward acknowledging that you don’t have to face everything alone. you feel a shift within yourself, a subtle sense of release, as though something heavy has started to ease from your chest. the fear of burdening him, the anxiety of being a disruption, all of it begins to dissipate. nanami’s offer isn’t just about providing a roof over your head—it’s about creating a space where you don’t have to be anything but yourself.

he doesn’t wait for you to say more, respecting the silence that follows your acceptance. instead, he stands and quietly moves to gather the dishes. it’s a small act, but it feels like another way he’s showing his care, his willingness to shoulder whatever parts of this journey he can.

nanami doesn’t push for more conversation, but his presence is constant. there’s no pressure to talk about anything, no urgency to solve any problems or rush into decisions. he just lets you be. 

you sit on the couch and allow yourself to fully relax. all the decisions and uncertainty start to feel a little more manageable with him here—just beside you, not asking for anything, simply offering support in a way that means the world.

you allow yourself to close your eyes for a moment, exhausted from the emotional past few days. within a few minutes, the tension you've been carrying begins to melt away, and before you even realize it, you’re falling asleep.

as your mind drifts, the last thing you feel is the soft weight of a blanket being gently draped over you. nanami’s careful, unspoken gesture being the final reassurance you need before you fully surrender to rest. a silent promise that you’re not alone, and that he’s here, watching over you in the most subtle, considerate way.

[osakhee]

like that, perv!sohee x reader

! obsessive behavior, voyeurism (from both sides), reader kinda take revenge on sohee, dry humping, blowjob, a little bit of spit... some cum eating kinda...

based on the song like that by babymonster

note : i LOVE that song so badly but the lyrics are absolutely insane i couldn't stop thinking about it its been WEEEKKSSSS and finally i decided to do something out of it... lyrics will be written in red, please enjoy :3

if you ask him, sohee will tell you it's not that bad. no, he's not being too much. it's not too much when he follows you around the corridors, it's not too much when he tries to take pictures of you when you wear special kind of outfits, it's not too much when he sits behind the bench in front of your building so he can get a peak of you in your pajamas when you get close to the window. he likes you, it's a common behavior, isn't it?

you know sohee has been keeping an eye on you since the start of the year. you know he's been watching closely, a little too closely. you used to have a quite normal relationship with him, just two classmates that share a lot of classes together, and sohee has always been friendly. you don't really know what happened, but his behavior flipped after the first month. he used to sit next to you and he loved chatting between classes, but you soon found him sitting at the very far back of the class. even if you thought it was in your head, you could swear you felt his eyes on you the whole time. and sohee avoided you in the hallways. sometimes he would walk very close to you, without looking at you and his gaze fixed on his shoes.

you were a bit sad, sohee could have been such a nice friend through this school year, and you kept wondering what you did wrong. did you do something that hurt him? the whole time, you felt really terrible as if sohee's behavior was your fault. maybe just seeing you made him feel bad and he couldn't do anything about it, so you started mirroring the way he acted with you.

it's only after months of feeling a pang of guilt in your heart every time you saw him that you finally caught him. you arrived late to an early morning class, and you had to walk behind sohee to reach your desk. that's when you saw on the screen of his phone a picture of you in a very weird angle, probably a shot taken really fast and in an awkward way. and you couldn't miss the way sohee was slowly palming himself through his pants, his finger drawing circles on the faint bulge poking at his jeans. it felt dirty, and disgusting, you hated every part of it. the pretty and innocent face of your classmate turned out to be one's of a pervert that got off by seeing you.

since that moment, you became more aware of sohee's acts toward you. the way his eyes would quietly travel your curves, his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants each time you met him in the corridor and the weird tension each time he had to speak to you. after a while, you started finding funny how desperate he was. he was probably dreaming of having you all to himself, probably fucking you or anything else he could have in bed, but in the end, he was only jerking off in the school's bathrooms.

instead of confronting him in front of your class like you had decided at first, you decided to play with his mind. just because it was much funnier that way. on the days you shared classes with sohee, you started wearing your most revealing clothes, you created appealing outfits to fuck with his head. and you couldn't help the smile on your face when sohee would rush out of the class the second it ended, or the blush that creeped on his cheeks and up to his ears. and the best of all, sohee was completely oblivious. he had no idea you were playing with his heart -and dick, for some reasons-, he just thought to himself that he got really lucky to meet you.

you knew sohee would often follow you home. it's the part that creeped you out the most, and you thought it was also the most pathetic of them all. fucking his fist at school with his tshirt in his mouth to muffle his moans was a thing, but jerking off to the sight of someone while sitting outside of their home was another level of desperation. you started walking more often in underwear in front of the window, only closing the blinds when you were sure sohee left his poorly hidden spot.

each day only made sohee grow more addicted to you. just your scent when you walked past him, or the outline of your body when the lights were dimmed in your apartment, it was enough for him to go over the edge all the time. he spent another evening sitting beside the bench in front of your building, his eyes quickly wandering to the open window on the first floor so he would catch a glimpse of you taking off your hoodie and ruffling your hair. god why do you need to be attractive to him? why is he feeling that way each time he sees you? just like any other day, sohee couldn't help himself, his hand quickly making its way inside his boxers so he could massage his dick to the sight of you. more than often, he'd end up covering his underwear in the sticky liquid after he wiped his hand on it before making his own way home.

sohee wished you would never know. his situation wasn't the best, and he could only dream of having you on your knees for him, he wished he could take you with him and hide you somewhere so you'd be his forever. sometimes he felt like you would catch him taking sneaky pictures of you and it made his whole body burn with anxiety, his heart pounded in his chest to the point he believed it was going to jump out. he felt ashamed, but how else could he act? he liked you, he wanted you so much, he couldn't think of any other ways to fulfill his desires and needs without having to tell you. probably because he would melt on the spot if you ever asked him about it.

one more evening of watching sohee fumble after he came in his pants outside your window and you had enough. he was so desperate, you were sure taking care of him was going to be a dream come true to him. you almost felt pitiful when you imagined his pretty eyes turning wide. after all, that's all he wants, you were doing him a favor! maybe if you have fun, it wouldn't be a one time thing. you decided to consider it like a punishment, it made you feel a little better about it. a revenge, a way to fight back for his nasty acts.

you walk into class and look right at sohee. you meet his eyes and he immediately looks away, you can already see the red that paints his cheeks. you smile to yourself, he's so easy to play with, you couldn't wait to make his mind spin. for one of the first time, the class seems endless. you're really passionate about your studies, but your brain is focused on sohee and what you planned for him.

and when finally your class ends, you quickly get out so you could catch up on sohee. he's walking away so fast in the hallway that you almost lose him, it's like you're taking his place when he chases you home at the end of your day. when he finally slows his pace, you extend your hand to grip his wrist. sohee jumps in surprise and turns to you, his heart is pounding so loud in his ears he feels like he's gonna pass out. he can barely recall how your voice sounds like, it's been so long since you spoke to him, and when you call his name, he feels weak in his knees.

"sohee? can i speak to you for a second?"

"is there... something wrong..?"

his voice sounds so hesitant, he doesn't even try to free his wrist but the feeling of your fingers burn his skin to the bone. his breath gets shorter, his throat feels so dry he doesn't know if he'll be able to speak again. he licks his lips and looks down at your hand, where your grip is tight on him. you clear your throat and sohee looks back at you again.

"you know we have this essay due at the end of the week... you always do well, i figured out you could help, what do you think?"

"oh um... well maybe, when do you-"

"come over tonight? is that okay?"

"oh..."

sohee couldn't believe it, his flushed ears couldn't believe it. the forbidden door of your home finally opens, he will be surrounded with your scent, your clothes, and you all in the same place. he can't help but the warmth that colored his face with nervousness travels down his body to start a fire in his lower stomach. he looks away and nods, freeing his wrist from your fingers. he believes the smile that appears on your lips is just a grin of relief because he'll be studying with you.

you couldn't sit still while looking at the large clock on the wall, the seconds are ticking abnormally slowly to you. you look back at sohee and you could feel his anticipation from his seat, for once he seems really concentrated on your teacher's speech. as if he wanted time to stop so he would never have to follow you to your dorm room. he can't maintain eye contact with you, he wonders how he's going to even speak to you once it's just you and him.

the clock finally shows 5pm and you gather your notebooks. sohee is stuffing his paper sheets in his bag as slow as possible, he can feel your presence next to him and waiting for him. the silence between the both of you is unbearable to him when you walk home, you try not to innocently ask him how he knows what path to follow. you open your door and sohee wonders if he still have the time to run away. suddenly his spot behind the bench outside feels really safe and comforting. but you lock the door behind him, and he knows he's trapped for god knows how long with you. how is he supposed to stay concentrated? you're everything in his mind, you devour every little thought he can have, his blood flows in his veins so he can wake up for another day and see you. after all, he just likes you. just a normal amount.

you offer a seat to sohee at your desk, there's only one chair, you just want to be polite. you drag the chair closer to your bed so you could sit in front of him, and once sohee is settled, you plan can finally start. sohee's leg bounces nervously on the floor and he fidgets with his fingers to avoid putting any kind of attention on you. he knows if he does it's going to be impossible for him not to get hard immediately. you walk behind him, your hand rests on his shoulder and reaches the back of neck, brushing your fingers in his brown hair. sohee is completely frozen in place.

"sohee? did you hear what i said?"

oh. sohee jerks his head up to look at you from the corner of his eye, and you make your way in front of him. he can't escape you anymore.

"what did you say..?"

"i said, i know the look upon your face, you know?"

you walk so close to him sohee can feel your scent filling his mind, he feels like his heart is going to explode, he wants to hand it to you so you could keep playing with it as much as you want. you sit down on his trembling lap, your hands on his shoulders, and the boy in front of you is just a mess under your eyes.

"i might know what you need sohee. if i show you that i know what it's like, would you like that?"

"w-what do you mean..?"

"if i come close baby, do you think you will like that? much closer?"

your breath hits sohee's lips, his desperate eyes plead you to make the first move, to make him realize he's not having another dream. instead, you cover his jaw with warm kisses, you suck a little on his skin, your fingers tangled in his hair. sohee grips his knees so tightly he can feel his nails digging into his pants. you trail your mouth down his neck, you discover every hidden mole on his throat, your teeth sink into his skin and you listen to sohee's whines with a smile. you draw your body closer, your hips pressing down on his. you tug a little on his tshirt to reveal his collarbone, tracing the curves with your tongue, and sohee swears he's going to lose his mind. he's going to wake up, and nothing is going to be real. or if it is, he's going to be home soon but empty, you steal everything, his brain, his heart, his lungs, his secrets. and when you suck on his shoulders to paint pretty red spots, it's like you're sucking his soul away. when you stand up to look at him, his eyes are heavy with need, his hair already feel damp and some strands stick to his temple, his lips are a darker shade of pink probably from staying between his teeth the whole time.

"are you scared sohee? because if you do, i know the way to make sure you never leave."

your voice turns into a whisper that sends a delicious shiver to his spine.

"baby would you like that?"

sohee finally looks into your eyes. the way he nods so eagerly and desperately makes you smile, you slowly roll your hips into his and watch his face contort in pleasure. his eyes flutter shut, his head falls back, exposing his neck. you immediately attack his skin again, and sohee's hands that clawed at his pants catch your shoulders, he pushes you closer to his body as you cover his throat with hot kisses. you can feel his hips rut into yours messily, the hard bulge growing in his clothes brushes you each time. you let all your weight on him and grind your core harder, this time sohee moans audibly. the noises he makes fall into your ears like a melody, one that stay in your mind and play over and over again. one that gets you obsessed.

sohee is breathless, he feels so hot it makes him dizzy. if you don't stop your actions anytime soon he will definitely cum in his pants. it's not new to him, but in front of you it's embarrassing. he wanted to hide. deep down, he wanted to have you watching him, he wanted you to know, to make him yours too, but his innocent facade is almost unbreakable. he's shy, he's embarrassed, you know you'll need so much more to melt his armor.

"sohee baby... how do you feel? tell me."

"mhh i... c-can i have more..."

you can finally feel the crack in his voice, you're slowly making your way inside his locked mind. your hand travels down his chest and under his tshirt that's starting to cling to him, your nails graze his skin and you can feel his shivers under your fingertips. you hips rock against his to a steady rhythm, sohee's hands finally resting on your waist after he found the courage to hold it. his high pitched whines fill your room, he can't hide the pleasure that courses through his veins and burns in his stomach. when you nibble on his earlobe, you feel sohee's grip tighten and he moans your name, his hips twitch against yours in a desperate need of release.

"you like that? better than your hand hm?"

"s-so much better..."

"right baby... i know..."

"please p-please don't stop i'm s-so close..."

it would be too easy to let sohee have his way. he guides your hips into his with weak hands, his moans grow louder each second. you finally stop all movements and you hear sohee's breath stop in a silent whimper, like a desperate cry. when you look at him, he's so pathetic, tears shine in his eyes and threaten to fall off his eyelashes, his face is flushed and his hair messy from how many times he pushed them away. his tshirt now sticks to his chest that moves heavily, and when you get up from his lap, you can see the wet spot that formed on his sweatpants from how much he's been leaking under you.

you walk around him, almost like a predator that finally trapped its prey. and that's how sohee feels like under your hungry gaze, as if you are going to eat him whole. you're already tearing up his mind, the flow of thoughts frozen from the pleasure so intense it makes his head spin. your hand holds his jaw from behind, you tilt his head the way you want and play with his face with your fingertips. each touch sends jolts of pleasure through sohee, making his cock twitch in his pants. the way you whisper in his ear has his eyes rolling back in his head.

"is that what you want sohee?"

"i want- i w-want it so much..."

"don't worry baby, i'll make you feel way better than in your dreams."

you kiss his temple, your hand rest on his neck and you push his head to the side. your lips go down his jaw while your hand goes under his damp tshirt, you rub his chest with your nails and watch him lean into your touch. sohee almost cries when your hands leave him again, as if being far from you is now painful. he doesn't know a world where your hands aren't on him anymore.

your hands hold his knees and you part his legs enough to place yourself in between. sohee can't get his eyes off you anymore, the mask he tried to keep on for so long finally breaks, he gets drunk on your touch, he craves your gaze into his, if he ever felt shame for a while, it got wiped out by the pleasure and the lust. your hand grabs the bulge between his legs, you massage him very slowly through his pants. it's a sweet torture but sohee wishes he could feel it everyday, all the time. you finally pull down his sweatpants, you lean closer into his thighs so you can give kisses to his cock through his underwear. the fabric is already wet from the amount of precum that keeps leaking from his swollen tip, your tongue traces the outline of his hard length through the fabric and sohee can barely hold it any longer.

"m-more... please g-give me more..."

"i know baby."

you finally slide sohee's boxers down and the heavy sigh he lets out once his cock is free has you shivering. it throbs painfully under your gaze, his pink tip desperately calling for you. you lift your eyes to meet sohee's when you open your mouth, you let your tongue rest flat on his slit. immediately sohee's hands cover his face but he can't hide the moan that erupts from his throat, and the others once your hand grab his dick. you let spit dribble from your tongue and down his length while you give him slow strokes, mixing it with his wet arousal.

sohee feels like he could cum at any moment, especially if you keep jerking him off with that look on your face. you take his tip between your lips and eagerly swirl your tongue around it, you just play with the head of his cock for a while until sohee's cries of pleasure get louder. his hands grip your head and his fingers tangle in your hair when you take him deeper inside your hot mouth. you feel him hit the back of your mouth, he's pushing your head down but you try to keep your own steady pace. the way your tongue goes all the way up his length and circle around his tip has sohee breaking apart, he can't stop himself from getting louder and louder. he can feel the tension so close to break and burn his insides, he feels like he's gonna catch on fire soon if you keep going.

you never planned to stop. you jerk him off a little more and tease his slit with your thumb while covering his cock with messy kisses, and when you put him back into your mouth you can tell sohee can't hold it any longer. you let him have his way just for once, his grip on your hair tightens and he fucks his hips up into your mouth to finally chase his orgasm. it comes crashing on him, he buries himself as deep as he can in your throat before stilling his hips. you feel his warm cum fill your mouth, you let it drip on your chin and down your neck. sohee finally lets go of your hair and lean back on the chair, he's spent and exhausted, he's convinced he'll never feel that kind of pleasure again. when he looks down and sees your face covered with his sticky load, he swears he could cum again right on the spot. you slowly get up and kiss him, you share with him nothing but roughness when you play with his tongue and taste his seeds with him. you leave him panting even more as if his breath isn't already ragged by the high he's coming back from.

sohee smiles like an idiot. he feels like he's in heaven, and heaven is definitely your room, with you in it. he feels like he doesn't need to hide anymore, he gets up from the chair and lets his hand rest on your cheek, wiping away the remains of his cum. his eyes are still blurry but the way he looks at you could almost melt your heart. you pull his sweatpants and underwear up and tidy up his shirt, you savor the confused look on sohee's face. you reach for his hand and walk him around your room, you head for the door. he's still as pathetic and clueless as ever. you open the door and drag him outside, he just stands there in complete disbelief. back from heaven and straight to hell.

"i never give pervs like you a second chance. hope you remember that day though, you'll never feel like that again even in your wildest dreams."

you close the door shut.

YAYYYYY PERV SOHEE YAYYYYYY i love him