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acid-ixx · 4 months ago

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ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1, chapter five pt 2,

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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5sospenguinqueen · 7 months ago

Text

I'm Thirsty, Refreshing | Charles Leclerc x Gasly! Reader

Summary: Pierre is horrified by his sister's public attempts to catch his Monegasque friend's attention

Warnings: Suggestive. Thirsty comments. Swearing. Down bad reader.

Gasly reader. Pinterest pics

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gasly_yn forza ferrari sempre

4,309 comments

pierregasly what the fuck

pierregasly wrong team

pierregasly when did this become a whore house

→ gasly_yn that’s not very hot girl summer of you

user1 pierre going through the seven stages of grief

francisca.cgomes serving body

→ gasly_yn thank you for looking through 100s of pics for the right ones

→ pierregasly @/francisca.cgomes don’t encourage this!

→ fransisca.cgomes but she looks hot liked by charles_leclerc

alpinef1team well, we all know who you’ll be supporting this weekend

→ gasly_yn yeah, your other driver

→ pierregasly you take that back! that's worse

→ user2 i love when the gasly’s are messy on main

lilymhe and whose attention would we be trying to catch today?

→ gasly_yn only yours

→ alex_albon no

→ gasly_yn these drivers never let me have any fun

carlossainz55 looking good, female gasly

→ pierregasly back off 🤺

→ user3 c’mon carlos, we all know she’s only here for charles liked by charles_leclerc

landonorris i’m definitely looking at the shirt 👀

→ gasly_yn uh huh, what colour is it?

→ landonorris papaya

→ arthur_leclerc she doesn’t do british, mate

charles_leclerc *gulp*

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

pierregasly just posted

liked by gasly_yn, francisca.cgomes and others

pierregasly people were asking for more piarles (?) content tagged: charles_leclerc

5,558 comments

gasly_yn oh wow. i am stunned

gasly_yn and not because of you. we all know i’m the better looking gasly anyway

gasly_yn why don’t you bring him home anymore

→ pierregasly because you wouldn’t stop trying to steal him

→ gasly_yn kiks, leave him

charles_leclerc i am flattered

→ user4 omg just respond to her instead of acting like you’re responding to pierre

→ user5 give the girl a chance

francisca.cgomes i can hear her barking from here

→ lilymhe she’s actually salivating

→ gasly_yn where’s the girl code

→ user6 not the girlies exposing her

danielricciardo mate, who’s managing to make you look good in photos

→ gasly_yn hi, me again. i actually claim photo credits but he didn’t tag me

→ pierregasly i was kind of hoping you wouldn’t see this post. it was hard enough wiping the drool off your mouth when you were there

→ gasly_yn don’t expose me

→ gasly_yn plus, i have his notifs on so i don't miss a thing

→ pierregasly i half expected you to lick him after that basketball match

→ gasly_yn says the one trying to go for a cock shot

georgerussell63 didn’t i see that ferrari hoodie in your suitcase last weekend, yn? (this comment has been deleted)

user6 xoxo gossip george

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by gasly_yn, oscarpiastri and others

charles_leclerc summer break ☀️

7.440 comments

user8 here before yn

→ gasly_yn think again babe

gasly_yn miss rabbit has fainted

gasly_yn okay but the hands, the pecs, the bandana

gasly_yn in the market for a new necklace

pierregasly why are we thirst trapping

pierregasly whose attention are you trying to grab

pierregasly oi, answer me

user7 yn and pierre match each other’s freak in the best sibling way possible

carlossainz55 are you trying to kill her

alex_albon i’ve sent lily to check that she’s still alive after these

user8 who is taking the most boyfriend coded pics of Charles tho

→ user9 asking the real questions

georgerussell63 i don’t think ferrari would like you offing the competition’s sister

gasly_yn the sun isn’t the only thing that’s hot in these pictures

→ pierregasly you’re embarrassing me

→ gasly_yn my friends know you call yourself tripod, i’m not the embarrassment

→ charles_leclerc she’s got you there, mate

lilymhe i watched her drop her phone after opening insta

→ francisca.cgomes and then walk into a doorframe

user10 not the grid and wags exposing my poor girl

→ user11 she’s so down bad. i can’t even defend her anymore

→ lilymhe neither can we

user12 anyone else think yn is freaking out because charles finally replied to her comment

→ user13 not all of you taking this seriously like she hasn’t known charles since they were kids

→ user14 literally. they’ve been friends for years. i’m pretty sure she knows how to control herself around him

→ gasly_yn um, babe. have you seen him? would YOU be able to control yourself? liked by charles_leclerc

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

gasly_yn just posted a new story x2

charles_leclerc just posted a new story

pierregasly replied to yn's story you tell him to keep his hands to himself → i know where he lives gasly_yn i didn’t know you liked me that much pierregasly biologically i’m obliged to

pierregasly replied to charles' story stop touching her → release her hand charles_leclerc you’re the one who told me to finally ask her out! → you said you were happy that i would stop pining pierregasly yes but when you told me months ago that you were dating and keeping it under wraps → i believed that meant i wouldn’t actually have to see you with her → a heads up that you changed that would’ve been nice charles_leclerc drama queen pierregasly that’s it, i take back my approval charles_leclerc piss off, pois

pierregasly replied to yn's story yn, what the fuck → that better not be → i’m going to throw something gasly_yn stop stalking me pierregasly how could you not tell me first! gasly_yn you wanted me to tell you that i was going to fuck your friend? pierregasly i knew it was date night but i never thought gasly_yn you didn’t imagine your sister and your friend in bed together? i think that’s considered normal, pois pierregasly i hope he wrapped it. don't need more of you in the world gasly_yn go away!

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

pierregasly just posted

liked by scuderiaferrari, arthur_leclerc and others

pierregasly i actually miss when they were just messaging me about each other. now they make out in front of me. much worse tagged: gasly_yn, charles_leclerc

10,199 comments

user13 not pierre hard launching them

gasly_yn he used to talk about me?

→ charles_leclerc all the time <3

→ pierregasly all. the. time

alex_albon does this mean we can stop acting like we haven’t seen them making out around the paddock for the past few months?

→ georgerussell63 and in his car

→ landonorris and in the back of clubs

→ gasly_yn 2019 rookies were the worst thing to happen to f1

→ charles_leclerc i thought we were discreet?

→ pierregasly mate, you drool over her as much as she does you. neither of you have ever been discreet

arthur_leclerc at least they dial it down in front of you

user14 wait, you’re telling me they’ve been together for months. what about all of yn’s thirsty comments??

→ charles_leclerc i was sat next to her as she was writing them

→ gasly_yn can confirm those had him giggling

maxverstappen1 wait, does this mean he’s replaced me as his padel partner?

→ pierregasly he said he actually wanted to win

→ gasly_yn plus if he does lose, i give better consolation prizes ;)

→ pierregasly ew! dirty!

→ francisca.cgomes querido you have said worse to me in front of her

carlossainz55 the worst day was when she wore the ferrari vest under her alpine shirt. should’ve learned to knock before entering his driver’s room

→ pierregasly NO! In public!

scuderiaferrari ha stole your girl

→ alpinef1team how dare you

→ pierregasly yeah, you tell them. you can’t have her

→ charles_leclerc MY girl

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Requests welcome

I am currently working on a written Lando fic about him and driver! reader being fwb with angst so bare with me lol

Tag list

@rosecentury @peachiicherries

4K notes · View notes

tangerineastronaut · 16 days ago

Text

bibliophile ⟡ j. yunho

you're stressed...your study buddy has an idea.

Pairing: Yunho x Fem!Student!Reader Genre: Smut - dark twist Requested: Yes/No w.c. 5.8k Warnings: heavy on the smut, semi public sex (ish), mutual pining, food? - THE SUCKER - he does...things with it. Yunho is a FREAK. Reader is desperate for yunho dick (yes YOU, reader) Spoiler warnings are in comments if you need them. A/N: So, this is sort of two requests in one, however I don't want to disappoint anyone so I'll post it solo. I hope it's okay! <3 god deleted my ticket to heaven with this one. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Taglist: @baby-stay92 If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please DM me or click here.

You release a tired sigh and rub your eyes, throwing your pen down. It bounces off of your ridiculously thick textbook and lands on the papers scattered around your study partner.

“Ah ah. No crashing yet, we’ve got three more chapters,” Yunho says with a laugh, tapping you on the end of the nose with his own pen. You pout, making a face at him before dramatically collapsing on the table.

“I give up. You can become a lawyer, I’ll go back to making sandwiches,” you groan, muffled against pages of your future.

“I thought you liked working at the sandwich shop?”

“I did,” you reply, tilting your head to look at him. “But sandwich shops don’t pay me six figures.”

“Then stop whining,” Yunho shrugs. You grumble words unintelligible even to yourself and sit up, fixing your hair. You stretched, yawned, checked your phone for the thousandth time that evening. Finals were next week. Then there was the Bar exam. You were so close to being y/n l/n, attorney at law…but you were beginning to feel nauseous at the mere sight of words on a page.

“Wanna take a break?” Yunho suggests, leaning back to stretch. You avoid looking at the way his sweater rides up, revealing inches of what appears to be a toned belly.

“No,” you mumble, forcing yourself to look away. “If I leave this library…I think I may never return.”

Yunho chuckles and nods, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. For a few minutes, you both just sit there, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Usually the library is filled with students, exactly like you—stressed, depressed, drowning in student debt and reading assignments.

“Yunho?” you mumble. He hums a response, looking over at you. You swallow. “If I start to cry, will you judge me?”

“Not at all,” he responds. You nod once, feeling tears burning in your eyes.

For the next hour or so, you take turns reading passages and summarizing them, going through various laws and statutes that you could barely comprehend. Your brain felt as if it might explode, and you considered calling it a night, but it was only 10 p.m. and you’d be damned if you gave out before midnight.

“What the hell are these ‘title 16 provisions?’” you scoff, crinkling your nose. “Were these even part of our assignment?”

“Let me see,” Yunho says. He scoots his chair over to your side of the table rather than just moving seats, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. And god, his arm slides over the back of your chair as he leans in to look at the tiny words on your page.

He smells like coffee and the peanut butter granola bar you shared earlier, and this close you can see that he has very light freckles on his cheeks. You kind of want him to never move.

“Ah, no this isn’t part of this assignment but we will have to know it for finals,” he says, words going in one of your ears and out the other. He begins talking about these provisions, but you must be numb to all forms of communication other than Jeong Yunho’s body heat.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” you mumble, shaking your head. Yunho has a funny look on his face, one brow raised. Oh god. Oh god. He caught you staring like a fucking creep.

“...You good?” he chuckles. You swallow and quickly nod, brushing your hair back so fast you nearly hit him in the face.

“Yep, uh huh,” you mumble. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Oh,” he says as though relieved. “Good. Well, if you need to take a break, let me know.”

He begins to move; you panic and grab his wrist.

“Wait! You didn’t explain this part to me,” you say, pointing at a random section on the page. Yunho sits down again and tilts his head.

“You need me to explain…marital property to you?” he asks, sounding both amused and disbelieving.

Well, if you’re gonna be a bad liar, at least you’ll be persistent.

“Yes,” you nod. “Just like a refresher, you know? My brain is cooked.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, and you feel your cheeks heat up. It feels like he knows something you don’t know, and you don’t like that. So you yank him back into his seat and let go of his wrist, pretending to be very interested in one of the most basic aspects of your degree.

Marital property is boring, even when the hottest guy in your class is explaining it to you. And what’s worse—he knows. You know he knows. He’s explaining basic concepts to you, and then explaining the basics of those basic concepts, all the while keeping a little smirk on his handsome face. You consider caving, thinking of any possible excuse for your behavior. You’re delirious from lack of sleep, that’s actually true. But you were too deep in this to give up now.

“That’s most of it,” Yunho finally says, long fingers splayed over the textbook. They nearly reach from one end of the open book to the other. You shiver. “I guess we should move into parental rights—”

“Yunho,” you begin with a sigh, ready to admit defeat. He smiles innocently, resting his chin in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“I—”

You freeze, having forgotten how to form sentences. Yunho’s still smiling at you, but his free hand is now resting on your thigh. You thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a skirt today.

His palm is large, warm, spanning much of the plush skin there. He’s not gripping it, but it’s still very obviously intentional. You feel your cheeks burn hot; you’re determined to remain unaffected.

“Nevermind,” you mumble. He chuckles and turns back to the page, though he doesn’t move his hand.

You don’t ask him to.

You go back to your respective chapters, thankfully far beyond the basics, but his hand stays right where it is. He even reaches over his other arm to sip his coffee, refusing to move it. Your skin burns in the shape of his fingers; you almost want to push him away simply because your body is reacting to his touch in a way that’s making you feel crazy. You’re practically feverish, just because he’s near you. Pathetic, honestly.

When you sigh and rub your eyes, those long fingers twitch, making you jump. You try to play it off, though you know he’s aware of your reaction, because he does it again. When you don’t react as dramatically, he squeezes gently.

Your knee jerks up so fast it hits the table, causing your belongings to rattle, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. Yunho chuckles, though doesn’t move his hand. You clear your throat as though everything is normal. As though he’s not currently squeezing your upper thigh.

“Yunho,” you say quietly.

“Hm?” He doesn't bother looking up from his textbook.

“What are we doing?”

He does look up this time.

“Studying,” he says, giving you a sweet smile. You narrow your eyes.

If he was going to do this, then so were you. You were sleep deprived, numb to the world, and horny as hell. So you parted your knees.

Not much, just an inch or so, but very obvious. You didn’t miss the way Yunho’s throat worked as he swallowed, clearly not expecting the reciprocation. You go back to your textbook, but your victory is short lived, however, as his large hand slides further inward.

You’re flustered. But you’re also stubborn. So you drop your pen and look him in the eyes as you open your knees. Yunho’s gaze is steady as he slowly moves his hand, as though expecting you to stop him. You don’t.

Yunho went back to reading and you did the same, just as his pinky brushed the crease of your inner thigh. You knew you were wet, knew he could probably feel the moist heat radiating from your body behind your pink panties, but you chose to be nonchalant. Until he rubbed the back of his knuckle against your panties, over your clit.

The soft moan that escapes you is mortifying.

Yunho quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, laughing breathily as your brows pull together and you shudder. He looks as shocked as you are, though now you’re hazy, focused only on how good it felt, and wanting more.

“Shh,” he chuckles nervously, glancing around despite the fact that you’re the only ones here. “No wonder you act like you’re walking around on thin ice. You’re frustrated as hell, huh?”

“P-Please,” you whimper pitifully against his palm, though it’s muffled. He moves his hand and you grip his wrist, looking up at him. You silently communicate your needs, praying he has mercy and doesn’t force you to say it out loud. Yunho glances around one more time, licking his lips before looking down at you like a fucking steak on a platter.

“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta be quiet for me,” he murmurs. You nod quickly, gasping when he effortlessly yanks your chair closer to him. He adjusts his glasses before lowering his hand to your thighs, gently stroking them.

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly. You open your mouth, but he presses a finger to your lips. “Quietly.”

“Yes, yes,” you whine. “T-Touch me.”

Yunho bites his lower lip, as though imagining doing much, much more than that. When he rubs your thighs again, your knees fall open and you stifle a moan behind your sleeves. Yunho smiles at the sight of you, slipping his hand between your legs again.

This time, he’s more careful, though it’s much more frustrating for you. You squirm when he strokes either side of your cunt, making a ‘v’ and squeezing your plush pussy lips between them. You moan again, loudly, and Yunho scrambles to cover your mouth.

“Baby, you’ve gotta be—”

“Quiet, I know,” you pout, gripping his wrist. “C-can’t help it…feels good.”

Yunho swallows, letting his fingers brush against you again. You manage to stay quiet this time, but your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“So fucking sensitive,” he murmurs, drawing his hand back. You nearly protest, but he presses his index finger to your clit like a button and you jolt, covering your mouth just in time. Yunho smirks.

“H-Haven’t had sex,” you say, fisting the sleeve of his sweater as he pushes again. “In m-months.”

“Why?” he asks, beginning to rub slow circles against your panties. You feel your wetness spreading beneath them, but you don’t care. You grip the edge of the table and swallow.

“Busy,” you breathe, licking your lips. Yunho’s eyes follow your tongue. You don’t notice.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yes,” you nod frantically.

Yunho uses the hand between your legs to turn your entire body toward him. You want to mention how attractive that is, but he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is nothing like his touch; there’s nothing dirty or hurried about it. His nose brushes the crease of yours as he tilts your heads to the side, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss that makes no sense when his fingers are currently resting against your panties beneath your skirt.

He seems to have forgotten what he was doing amidst your soft kisses, as you break away from his lips to impatiently bounce and whine. Yunho smirks and begins rubbing his middle finger directly over your clit, applying very little pressure. He kisses you again, and you throw your arms around his neck, trying to push your body into his. His knee prevents you from doing so.

“Nng…what are you doing?” you whine, fisting his sweater. “Wanna…wanna be in your lap.”

Your own admission makes your cheeks flush red, but you don’t care. You’re horny and your crush’s hand is between your thighs.

“Not yet, baby,” he mumbles, stealing another lazy kiss. “Wanna keep you like this. I like how desperate you are.”

“I…I’m not desperate,” you mumble. Yunho bites his lower lip and applies more pressure to your clit, you buck your hips and grip his sleeve. He’s laughing, but you don’t care, aching for more of him.

“Desperate,” he hums, pulling you in for another kiss. You don’t understand his obsession with kissing you; wasn’t he as horny as you were? But you kissed him back anyway, because you’ve had a crush on this guy since your freshman year and even the slut hormones clouding your brain couldn’t block that much out. He was a damn good kisser too, taking the lead and hardly giving you time to breathe.

In contrast to his soft mouth, Yunho’s index finger hooks your soaked panties, tugging them to the side. His finger brushes your bare cunt, though he knowingly silences your moans with a kiss.

“What can I do?” he asks once you finally break apart. You’re unwilling to let him go, however, pulling his lips back to yours..

“Don’t care,” you mumble between kisses, body buzzing with need. “Whatever you want.”

“Can I go in here?”

He prods at the needy hole between your folds and you fucking purr, clutching his sweater and pulling him close with a whine.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. He waits for you to eagerly nod, then brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. “Open.”

You do as he says and he slips his fingers inside. You nearly moan around them as you instinctively suck and lick his digits; they’re long and thick, two of them practically as big as a few hookups you’ve had in the past. Yunho watches, pupils wide as you act like an obedient doll a little too eager to be fingered in a library at midnight.

When he pulls his fingers out, they’re slick and shiny with your drool, and you see him suck in air. You blush, a little embarrassed at how thorough of a job you’ve done. You expect Yunho to go beneath your skirt, but he slides his wet fingers in his mouth, eyes never leaving yours.

It’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever seen, next to the look of pure bliss in his eyes as he sucks your saliva off of his fingers and replaces it with his own. You decide then that you do not want him to finger you.

“Fuck me,” you blurt out.

You barely register what you’ve said, but you’re damn near ready to jump his bones. Yunho blinks in surprise, obviously not having expected that. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth.

“Really?” he asks. He sounds surprised for reasons you don’t understand, but you nod.

“Yeah,” you say, pulling him in for another kiss. “Want you inside me. All of you.”

“Fuck,” Yunho groans. He grabs your face in his hands and kisses you back, harder. Your hands are shaky as they go for his jeans, but then he freezes like you’ve just slapped him.

“What?” you ask, breaking the kiss. Yunho curses and rubs his face with both hands, tilting back in his chair. “What is it, yu?”

“I don’t…fuck. I don’t have a condom.”

He runs a hand through his hair like this is the biggest mistake of the century. You bite your lower lip—the idea of leaving tonight and not getting fucked by him makes you genuinely want to cry.

“We could…you know?” you mumble, face hot. “I mean, I-I’m clean. Obviously, haven’t had sex in god knows when—”

“No,” Yunho says, shaking his head. “I don’t trust myself.”

“Don’t trust yourself to what?” you frown. Yunho looks at you,

“There’s no way I’m gonna be able to make myself pull out once I’m in you,” he murmurs. “We need a condom.”

You swallow. You really shouldn’t push; but you need to hear more.

“How do you know?” you breathe, licking your lips.

“C’mere.”

“What?”

Yunho reaches over, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you into his lap and you gasp, able to feel the rigid line of his cock beneath you. But he grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss again.

“I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he hums, and you mewl in response, grinding down against him. He kisses you again to stifle what was no doubt a moan.

“Y-Yeah?” you manage to squeak out. Yunho nods.

“Yeah. Not gonna be able to pull out if I’m balls deep in that little cunt with you fucking crying for it like this.”

Fuck. You needed him. To be honest, with or without the condom, but if he felt it was necessary.

“Let’s go get one,” you mumble dizzily. “A c-condom. There’s a convenience store down the street.”

Yunho frowns, looking at the clock on the wall.

“The library will be locked, won’t it? Don’t we have to lock up?”

You lean back in his lap, smiling.

“Yes. But I’ve got a key,” you chime.

The moment you stepped into the store, you immediately regretted it and felt all the horny escape you. Not really, but it was embarrassing as hell, and painfully obvious as to what you were doing here. Yunho didn’t seem to mind, his hand tightly clasping yours as he guided you toward the back.

You had a little trouble finding the condoms—it made you inexplicably happy when Yunho suggested asking the clerk as he didn’t know either, even though your answer was a firm NO—but eventually found the rack next to the sex pills and cold sore cream.

Hot.

Yunho squints, and you cross your arms impatiently. You grab a box and shake it.

“It’s not a shoe store, here,” you mumble, pushing the box into his hand. Yunho glances over the label and smirks, tossing it back on the shelf. You want to ask what the hell is so funny when you’re so fucking wet your panties are sticking to your thighs, but then he finally makes a choice and puts the box in your hands. Oh.

Oh.

XXL. Makes sense.

You make him grab a few more things as though that makes the purchase less shameful. When you go to check out, you look everywhere but at the clerk—until he has the audacity to speak to the man holding your hand, very obviously purchasing condoms so the two of you can go fuck in a library.

“Finals week?” the guy says. Yunho slides his card across the counter and squeezes your hand.

“Finals week,” he nods.

“I just realized we could’ve gone to my apartment,” you say, unlocking the library door. Yunho leaned against the wall, unwrapping the candy he’d apparently decided on last minute. A red round sucker. “It’s only a few minutes away.”

You’d been given a key to the library your second year here, as you were a trusted student who often pulled all nighters—and you lived in the shitty part of campus where the power often went out. You were aware this was a total abuse of that power, but you figured if you showed Yunho to Ms. Lin, she’d understand.

“Yeah, well, my fantasies during puberty weren’t at apartments,” Yunho shrugs, holding the door for you. You head inside and find your table, where you drop the bag of your purchased items. Yunho grabs it, immediately fishing out the box.

“Very boy of you,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Let me guess, the hot librarian offers to help you find your dick? Is that part of the dewey decimal system?”

Yunho smiles. “Can we get back to you whining for me to fuck you? I liked that.”

“I was not—”

Your freakishly tall study partner grabs your wrist, tugging you against him. You swallow and look up, lips parted at the sudden contact.

“Not what?” he asks. You blink, but something is suddenly pushing at your lips. You open dumbly, feeling too obedient as you take whatever he’s putting in your mouth apparently. The taste of artificial cherry makes you grimace.

Yunho backs you up to the table, crowding you against it. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheek, thumbs brushing below your ears. You realize you’ve been staring at him wordlessly, sucker in your mouth.

“How’s it taste?” he asks.

“Good,” you mumble. It doesn’t taste good, you hate cherry, but if Jeong Yunho puts something in your mouth, you love it, you decide. Cherry is your new favorite flavor.

“I doubted if they sold gags, so,” he chuckles. “This’ll do.”

You frown, but he takes the stick of the sucker before you can respond.

“Open,” he says. You open.

You see his eyes twinkle, almost like he can’t believe how well you’re listening to him. If only he knew you’d do anything he asked.

Rather than pull it out, Yunho rubs the sucker around your mouth. He coats your tongue with the sticky flavor, then the inside of your cheek. By the time he pulls it out, you don’t realize you’re drooling, mouth open for him.

He pops the sucker in his own mouth, just like his fingers, and you shudder. Then he’s slipping his hands beneath your skirt, pushing your panties down your thighs.

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, more curious than concerned. Yunho takes the sucker out and kisses your cheek, then your lips. You can taste it on his tongue, just like yours.

Something sticky and wet prods at your clit and you gasp, but Yunho wraps an arm around your waist and keeps you from pulling away. You squeak helplessly in shock, caught between mind numbing bliss and disbelief. He’s rubbing the bulbous head of the sucker against your clit.

“Shh…figure it’s too risky to eat you out properly,” he hums in your ear, crushing you to his chest. You squirm, though not out of discomfort.

You have no idea how to react, hands gripping his sweater as he holds you in place. The candy feels warm and sticky, sliding through your cunt juices as he teases you with it.

“I wasn’t going to,” he says, voice strained as though he’s doing all he can to hold back. “But I saw it and…well fuck, baby, if I’m honest, I just wanted to see if you were desperate enough to try and fuck yourself on a piece of candy.”

You whine and bury your head against his shoulder, because you fucking are. You are desperate enough to try, because he slides the candy between your lips and you jolt when it brushes your hole.

“F-Fuck, Yunho,” you gasp, nails digging into fabric. You hear him laugh, and it sounds so fucking cocky, like he knew you’d end up like this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you work yourself to ruin on a piece of candy.

He slides it beneath the hood of your clit, twisting the stick in his fingers. Your knees buckle, but he’s gripping you tight. He works it like a toy, rubbing up and down, focusing on your clit until you’re nearly there before he moves it again. It didn’t feel this big when it was in your mouth, but you’ve never wanted something inside you so bad.

“Oh my god,” you moan, thighs clamping together. It doesn’t stop his hand, or the candy, the rounded tip pushing against your hole. He starts rolling it again, and you gasp as you feel yourself snapping inside, the hot neediness spilling over the edges. You try to warn him, but only manage to squeak.

“Are you…are you cumming on a fucking lollipop?” Yunho asks, voice filled with awe. You nod.

Your ears ring, your vision blurs, and you feel something pushing against your mouth. It’s Yunho’s hand you realize, but you can’t stop, can’t stop shaking and screaming and there’s something wet on your cheeks.

You haven’t had a proper orgasm in months, maybe even a year, and were it not for Yunho holding you up, you’re pretty damn sure you would’ve fainted.

When you open your eyes, Yunho is laughing quietly and hugging you tight, rubbing your back.

“Fuck, are you okay?” he asks, sounding concerned and impressed. You sniff and nod, using the back of your hand to wipe your cheeks. Yunho cups your face and uses his thumbs to clean you up. You were crying.

“I’m sorry, jesus, I didn’t think it was that bad,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You realize then that the damn sucker is in his mouth.

You whine, yanking him forward until you’re kissing him. It’s clumsy, but he takes the sucker out and tosses it on the table behind you. You begin working desperately at his jeans, and hear him release a cherry flavored groan.

“Still gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, keeping his lips against yours.

“God yes,” you say in a shaky voice. “P-Please.”

“I can do that,” Yunho breathes. He places a large hand on the softness of your belly, gently pushing you back.

Yunho towers over you, one hand moving to cup your thigh and open you up so he can stand between them. The other goes to his jeans, and you find yourself biting your lip and digging your nails into your palms.

XXL?

“Since you look like you’re about to fucking eat me,” Yunho says with a laugh, “why don’t you do it? Hm? When’s the last time you put a condom on?”

You feel yourself blush at having been caught, but sit up to snatch the box near you.

“Asshole,” you mutter, refusing to give him a proper answer.

Your hands are too shaky to open the box, so you end up ripping it down the side, condoms spilling out. You sigh anyway and grab one, slipping the foil packet between your teeth. You move your hands to his jeans, and realize that for the first time…you’re nervous.

Until now your brain had been sex focused; it still was, but your post orgasm clarity made you realize how fucking desperate you looked. You roughly popped open the button of his jeans.

Yunho was so damn tall that his hips were practically level with your face whilst you were on the short table. This meant that, as soon as you’d tugged his boxers down, you suddenly found yourself face to face with the biggest cock you’ve ever seen.

XXL.

For a moment you were too dumbstruck—why did they bother sculpting the soft dicks when the hard ones could look like…this? All veins and smooth skin and a pink mushroom head that looked perfectly designed for…use. You wanted it in your mouth. But he hadn’t technically put his mouth on you, and you were both in a library, and right now you were starting to get a little shaky at the idea of this thing going anywhere near your neglected pussy, so you swallowed your resolve and took the condom from between your teeth.

Yunho watched as you struggled to tear open the packet, biting your lower lip in frustration. You finally got it open, sighing as you placed the rubber at the tip. He grabbed your hands then, and you paused. Shit. Were you doing this wrong?

“We don’t have to do anything,” he mumbles softly, cupping your chin. “You wanna stop right now? We stop. Not trying to ruin the mood, just want you to know it’s okay.”

You shake your head.

“I’m okay, thanks,” you say quietly. “It’s just…fuck, Yunho.”

He laughs, his little ego having returned just a bit, you wanted to roll your eyes and kiss him at the same time. He bites his lower lip and strokes his thumb over yours.

“I’ll be gentle,” he hums. “You can take it for me.”

Fuck. Yes, you absolutely can.

Yunho guides you onto your back, though you settle on your elbows, propped up for him. You watch as he squeezes the rest of the lube from the packet onto his cock, giving a few tugs before nodding at you. You weren’t sure if you were excited or scared, but there were two heartbeats and one was between your legs.

He pushes your legs apart and guides his cock forward. You lick your lips and let your knees fall open, bunching your skirt around your waist, offering yourself to him. Yunho sucks in air through his teeth and curses.

“So fucking pretty,” he hums, supporting his weight on one palm as he brushes his cock against you. You shiver as the cold lube is smeared around your sensitive cunt. “Knew it from the day I saw you freshman year in a skirt just like this one. Thought I was gonna die when you smiled at me.”

“I didn’t know you remembered,” you mumbled. You were so nervous your first day, which wasn’t helped by the hot guy who approached you and asked if you were lost. Apparently you could stop feeling ashamed for having mind fucked him back then.

“Of course I do,” Yunho chuckles, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit. “So cute, how you blushed when I talked to you. You still do that, you know.”

“Shut up,” you mutter. Yunho laughs, then licks his lips.

“Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it’s too much,” he says. You nod.

The swollen head of his cock catches on your hole, and Yunho uses his weight to lean forward and urge himself inside. It aches a bit, not just from the size but fuck it’s been so long since you’ve had something more than your own fingers in you. Your thoughts go from not so bad to okay damn to holy fuck there’s more? Because he keeps pushing and you keep taking, and you feel every inch of him filling your insides while his body offers more.

“Fuck, baby. Fuck,” Yunho whines, still gripping the base of his cock as he guides it into you. Your head falls back and you curse at nothing; his cock is somehow too big but perfectly sized at the same time and you’ve never felt so god damn full. “Look at you, that needy little cunt is swallowing me babygirl. Keep fucking taking it.”

His words make you dizzy, and you whine when he’s finally fully seated. You feel heavy, pinned to the table, as though you can’t move. You reach down and feel the rigid sides of his cock, shocked to feel just how much is inside you.

“How’s that, beautiful?” Yunho asks. He places both palms on the table, either side of your body, and you tense. If he started thrusting, it would fuck you up.

“Good,” you say, nodding. “Big, but good.”

“Knew you could take it. 'm gonna fuck you now. Stop me if you need to," he murmurs. You can take it.

"I can take it," you nod. He smiles, kissing you once, then twice.

You squeak as Yunho begins fucking you properly, ploughing into you hard and fast, moving with need and instinct rather than reason.

The table shakes with his heavy thrusts, pistoning into you so hard it makes you dizzy. You’re surprised you can take him like this, able to feel every inch of him when he’s seated inside, pressing deliciously on your walls.

Yunho ruts into you like an animal, unfortunately one with a very big cock as he struggles to keep every inch buried inside you. He wasn’t lying about not pulling out, as he refused to do so even when thrusting. You had no room to breathe, no chance for air, as he fucked into you repeatedly while trying to go deeper.

You’re at a loss for words, lips parted, eyes following his expression and movements. He’s desperate in his own way, obviously holding back, though you don’t know from what. You consider encouraging him to let go—until he groans loudly and snaps his hips, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. So fucking…need you to hold still for me and take it,” he breathes. "Hold still. A-Almost done, fuck, keep taking it so good for me."

You do as he asks without question, clinging to his shoulders, nose to nose with Jeong Yunho as he forces his cock as far as it can go in your body and begins to pump a thin condom full of cum that should be you.

Yunho takes a few moments to breathe, arms shaking where he holds himself up on the table. You run a hand through his damp hair, watching as he moans softly and leans into your touch.

“You okay?” you giggle. He nods, tilting his head to kiss your palm.

“Just…You’re so fucking perfect. Want more of you if you’ll let me, wanna make you feel good every day," he says.

You blink at the surprising tenderness of his words, feeling they were more than sex related. You wanted to ask questions, but right now, you were both sticky with sweat and fucked out on a library table that would need to be wiped down with holy water.

You separated, which left you shuddering from the sudden cold emptiness inside of you. Yunho exhaled sharply, waiting a few moments before removing the condom and tying it off.

You both cleaned up and fixed your clothes as best you could—though you stuffed your panties in your bag because the sticky wetness was a little much.

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, making sure your skirt is covering your ass. “You know. To clean up.”

Yunho smiles, which makes you smile, and then you’re blushing and cursing at yourself. He nods and brushes your cheek with his knuckle.

“Sounds good,” he hums. You beam and gesture for him to follow you. Yunho watches as you collect your things with shaky legs, smiling to himself.

You were so damn pretty. Intelligent. He’d noticed right away that you were someone he was going to want.

He grabbed his own bag and walked past the table, pausing as he stepped on something.

The sucker.

You crinkle your nose when you notice it, too.

“Guess we need to throw that away,” you mumble. He nods, bending down and picking it up. He holds it in his hand for a few seconds.

What a good idea it had been.

He slips it into his pocket, for the memories.

Memories like, your name. Your favorite color. That skirt you wore on your first day. Apartment 2B, where you lived. You like the right side of the bed, don’t you? Yunho likes the left side.

The last man you slept with—11 months, 1 week, and 4 days ago.

Yunho hated that one.

You had waffles for breakfast this morning. You usually have oatmeal. You sleep with a nightlight on.

You’re afraid of the dark.

“You coming?” you ask with a shy smile, pausing at the door. Yunho looks up. You didn’t see him slip the sucker in his pocket. You never notice things like that.

“Yeah,” he says. He follows you out the door and waits for you to lock up. Then, without thinking too much of it, he takes your hand. You don’t pull away. Your hand is small compared to his, and he squeezes it. You squeeze back.

You like hot showers.

You sound so pretty when you moan, especially when you think you’re alone.

Your bathroom window is never locked.

You're never alone.

Yunho has a good memory when it comes to you.

1K notes · View notes

solxamber · 3 months ago

Note

How about a request where Octa trio and idia (seperate) end up drunkenly confessing they have a crush on the reader during a moment where readers helping em + the aftermath of them realizing when sober and hung over and reacting to the situation? Feel free to delete or ignore! just had thought it could be fun

Drunken Confessions with: Octatrio + Idia

a/n: sorry for the long wait, i hope you like it <3

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul rarely let himself slip, and by slip, you meant this. He staggered, his weight shifting heavily against your side as you supported him on the walk back to Mostro Lounge. His normally polished demeanor was gone, replaced by flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, and a faint, almost imperceptible slur in his words.

“Y-You’re…hic…so nice,” he mumbled, leaning more into you than he probably intended. “Why’re you so nice to me?”

You adjusted your hold, an amused grin tugging at your lips. “Maybe because someone has to make sure you don’t faceplant on the cobblestones, Azul.”

He blinked up at you, a soft, dopey smile crossing his face. “You’re funny. And good looking… so pretty.”

You stopped walking for a moment, looking down at him in surprise. “Are you sure you’re not hallucinating?”

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, waving his hand in what he probably thought was a convincing argument. “I’m serious! I… I think about you all the time. You’re… you’re perfect.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Azul Ashengrotto, perfectionist extraordinaire and self-proclaimed businessman, was rambling about how great you were while leaning heavily on your shoulder. You felt your cheeks heat up, but you brushed it off as the effects of the alcohol loosening his tongue.

“You can thank me when you’re sober, Mr. Compliment Machine,” you teased, continuing your trek toward his dorm.

But Azul wasn’t done. “I mean it!” he insisted, nearly tripping over his own feet. You quickly steadied him, and he looked up at you, his eyes uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I… I like you. Like… like you like you.”

Your steps faltered, and you stared at him for a moment. His expression was so sincere, even through the haze of intoxication, that it made your chest ache.

“…Azul,” you said softly, “let’s get you home first, okay?”

He blinked at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he nodded obediently. “Okay… but you have to promise… hic… you won’t disappear. I'll give you free coffee for life.”

“I promise,” you said with a laugh.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, and Azul groaned as the dull, pounding headache reminded him of last night’s poor decisions. He buried his face in his pillow, groaning again at the flashbacks of you holding him upright, your warm laughter echoing in his ears.

What did I do? he thought, mortified.

And then it hit him—he’d confessed. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. He sat up too quickly, clutching his head as the dizziness hit him. You must’ve been horrified. Surely, you’d bolted the moment he fell asleep, wanting to avoid the awkwardness.

But then he heard a sound from the kitchen.

Azul froze, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. He slid out of bed, carefully padding toward the source of the noise. There you were, standing in the kitchenette, humming softly to yourself as you poured coffee into two mugs.

You turned when you heard him, flashing him a warm smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead. I made coffee—thought you’d need it.”

Azul stared, his jaw slightly slack. “You’re… still here?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Where else would I go? You promised me free coffee for life, remember?”

Azul groaned, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean it.”

You laughed, stepping closer and handing him a mug. “I know. But you did mean the other thing, didn’t you?”

He stiffened, clutching the coffee mug like it might save him. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, his face flushing.

You tilted your head, giving him a knowing smile. “The part where you said you liked me.”

Azul’s grip on the mug tightened, and he swallowed hard. “…Yes,” he admitted softly, not meeting your gaze. “I meant it. But I understand if you—”

Before he could finish, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His words died in his throat as he stared at you, wide-eyed.

“I like you too, Azul,” you said with a grin. “I have for a while.”

Azul blinked, his brain struggling to process your words. “…You do?”

“Obviously,” you teased. “Why else would I stick around to help you last night? You’re a handful, you know that?”

Azul’s lips twitched into a small, shy smile, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “…Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For the coffee? Or for liking you back?” you teased, taking a sip of your drink.

“Both,” he replied, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

And black coffee had never tasted so sweet to him.

Jade Leech

Jade Leech prided himself on his composure, his refinement, and his ability to remain unflappable under any circumstances. That all went out the window after a few too many drinks.

You hadn’t even expected to see him like this—flushed cheeks, a lazy, amused smile, and a rare looseness to his usual precision. He wasn’t stumbling per se, but his steps lacked their usual grace, and every so often, he swayed just enough to make you reach out and steady him.

“I must commend you,” Jade slurred, his voice as smooth as ever despite the alcohol. “You’re quite… considerate. Most wouldn’t bother with something so trivial as escorting me home.”

“Trivial? You can barely walk straight,” you said with a huff, adjusting your hold on his arm to keep him upright. “I’m not leaving you to faceplant in the dirt, Jade.”

His laugh was softer than usual, warmer somehow. “Hmm… you truly are unique.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Save the compliments for when you’re sober.”

But Jade had other plans. “You’re always like this,” he murmured, his gaze drifting toward you. “Kind. Thoughtful. Beautiful…”

You froze for a moment, glancing at him. “You’re drunk, Jade. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I do,” he replied, the faintest pout gracing his lips. “I’ve wanted to say it for so long… but I couldn’t. You’re so… precious to me, I couldn’t bear to—hic—risk it.”

“Risk what?” you asked softly, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his voice.

“Losing you,” he whispered. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty that left you speechless.

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Come on, let’s get you home,” you said gently, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

The next morning, Jade woke up with a pounding headache and the faint memory of warm hands rubbing his back as you murmured reassurances. His eyes snapped open as the events of the night before came rushing back.

“…Oh no,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

He couldn’t believe he’d actually said it. Confessed his feelings so blatantly, without any of the careful planning or subtlety he prided himself on. And to you, of all people—the one person he couldn’t bear to push away.

Jade steeled himself. He’d handle this like any other delicate situation—with poise and precision. If he acted normal, he could convince you that his confession had been nothing more than the ramblings of a drunk man.

And so, when he saw you later that day, he greeted you with his usual calm smile. “Good morning. I trust you slept well?”

You blinked at him, a bit surprised by his nonchalance. “Uh… yeah. How about you?”

“Quite well, thank you,” he said smoothly, showing no hint of the internal panic roiling beneath the surface.

You studied him for a moment, your brow furrowing slightly. “Do you… remember anything from last night?”

“Only bits and pieces,” he replied with a polite chuckle. “If I said or did anything out of the ordinary, I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

Out of the ordinary? You were starting to wonder if you’d hallucinated his heartfelt confession. Jade was acting so normal, so perfectly composed, that it was almost infuriating.

It wasn’t until later, when you were both in the lounge, that he slipped.

“Of course, I treasure you more than anyone else,” he said offhandedly, then immediately froze as he realized what he’d just admitted.

You stared at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Wait. What did you just say?”

Jade cleared his throat, his face betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment. “Ah… I misspoke.”

“No, you didn’t,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “You meant it, didn’t you? Just like you meant it last night.”

He hesitated, his composure faltering for the first time since that morning. “…Yes,” he admitted softly, avoiding your gaze. “I meant every word.”

A smile broke across your face, and before he could say anything else, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Good. Because I like you too, Jade.”

His eyes widened, and for once, he was completely at a loss for words. “You… you do?”

You nodded, your grin widening. “Of course. Why do you think I stayed to take care of you last night?”

Jade’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, his cheeks faintly tinged with pink. “I see… I suppose I should count myself lucky, then.”

“You definitely should,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Now, are you going to keep pretending nothing happened, or are you going to take me out on a proper date?”

Jade chuckled softly, the tension melting away as he looked at you with newfound warmth. “I believe I owe you the latter, don’t I?”

And with that, the polished, unflappable Jade Leech was yours to keep.

Floyd Leech was unpredictable on a good day. Drunk Floyd? That was another beast entirely.

He’d somehow managed to drink more than anyone else at the party, slinging his arm over your shoulder with a lopsided grin as he loudly declared you his “favorite Shrimpy.” If it weren’t for your quick reflexes, he probably would’ve knocked over at least three tables by now.

“Floyd, slow down!” you scolded, grabbing his wrist as he lunged toward a decorative vase like it was a basketball hoop. “We’re not here to redecorate.”

“But it’d look so much better broken!” he whined, leaning heavily against you. His sharp teeth flashed in a grin that was somehow equal parts adorable and terrifying. “Don’t ya think, Shrimpy?”

“No, Floyd,” you said firmly, guiding him away from the vase. “Let’s just focus on getting you home in one piece, okay?”

Floyd pouted but allowed you to steer him toward the exit, his lanky frame draped over yours like a human anchor. As you walked, he alternated between humming tunelessly, giggling at nothing, and telling you random, cryptic statements like, “The moon’s gonna eat you if you don’t smile back at it.”

“Sure, Floyd. I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, trying not to laugh.

It wasn’t until you were nearly to Octavinelle that his unhinged ramblings took a sudden, softer turn.

“You know somethin’, Shrimpy?” he said, his voice quieter now, almost wistful.

“What’s that?” you asked, adjusting your grip on him as he started to slump forward.

“I really, really like you,” he slurred, his mismatched eyes blinking up at you with a rare sincerity. “Like… not just as a buddy or whatever. I mean, like… like-like.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. “Floyd, you’re drunk.”

“So what?” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping. “Still true.”

Before you could respond, he let out a content sigh and promptly passed out, his head lolling against your shoulder.

“Of course,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. “You couldn’t confess while sober, could you?”

The next morning, Floyd was back to his usual self—or so it seemed. He greeted you with his usual wide grin and a sing-songy, “Mornin’, Shrimpy!”

You half-expected him to pretend last night didn’t happen, but instead, he seemed… more affectionate than usual. He leaned closer when he talked to you, casually draped his arm over your shoulder, and even offered you one of his prized snacks without a second thought.

It wasn’t until later, while you were both lounging in the lounge, that he dropped the bombshell.

“So, what do ya wanna do for our first date?” he asked, twirling a toothpick between his fingers.

You blinked at him. “Our what?”

“Our date,” he said, tilting his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, ‘cause we’re dating now.”

“…Floyd, you never asked me to be your partner.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, I did. Last night. Don’t you remember?”

“You were drunk, Floyd,” you pointed out.

“Still counts,” he said with a shrug, then grinned. “Unless… you don’t wanna date me?”

You stared at him for a moment, then let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Is that a yes?” he asked, leaning in with a teasing smirk.

“It’s a yes,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile.

Floyd’s grin widened, and before you knew it, he was scooping you up into a crushing hug, spinning you around as he laughed. “Knew ya couldn’t resist me, Shrimpy!”

As chaotic as he was, you couldn’t help but think you were in for one wild, wonderful ride.

Idia Shroud didn’t go to parties. Not unless someone twisted his arm—or in this case, dragged him out. His idea of fun was gaming in his room, not standing around awkwardly while extroverts did extrovert things.

And yet, here he was. Drinking something questionable because a certain someone (you) had sweet-talked him into joining.

He didn’t expect to end up three drinks deep, his face red, and leaning on your shoulder as you tried to guide him back to Ignihyde.

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” he muttered, stumbling slightly. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Just… a little dizzy.”

“Uh-huh,” you said dryly, tightening your grip on his arm. “You’re lucky I’m here, or you’d probably have wandered into the forest by now."

Idia chuckled, the sound softer and less nervous than usual. “Maybe. But you’d come get me, right? You always do…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, brushing off the adoration in his voice to focus on keeping him upright. “Come on, almost there.”

He was quiet for a moment, save for the occasional muttered complaint about his legs feeling like jelly. Then, he said, almost too softly to hear:

“Do you know why I always listen to you?”

You glanced at him, surprised. “Why’s that?”

“‘Cause I… I really like you,” he mumbled, his face somehow growing redder. “Like… more than I like my SSR pulls. And you know that’s saying something.”

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him. “Idia, are you—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he tripped over absolutely nothing, faceplanted into the ground, and immediately started snoring.

“…Of course,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

The next morning, Idia woke up with a pounding headache and the horrifying realization that he’d said everything out loud.

“No. No, no, no, no,” he groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. “I’ll just… never leave my room again. Yeah. Problem solved.”

His brilliant plan lasted all of five minutes before he heard you outside his door.

“Idia, open up,” you called, your voice firm.

“N-nope! Not happening!”

You sighed loudly. “Okay. Ortho?”

“Yes?” came Ortho’s cheerful reply.

“Break the door down.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Idia scrambled to unlock the door, cracking it open just enough to peek out. “No need to bring in the big guns! I-I’m opening it, see?”

He stepped back, allowing you inside, and immediately tried to hide behind his hair. “If you’re here to say you hate me now, just—just get it over with,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

“Why would I hate you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“B-because of what I said!” he wailed, his voice cracking. “I—I confessed, and then I passed out like an idiot, and—ugh! It’s like something out of a cringe anime!”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, cutting him off mid-rant. “Idia, shut up for a second.”

“What—”

You leaned in and kissed him softly, feeling him freeze in place. When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but grin at his wide-eyed, stunned expression.

“I like you too, dummy,” you said. “Who else would I like? If not you, then who?”

Idia’s face turned scarlet, his hair flaring pink at the edges. “Y-you… you really mean that?”

“Obviously,” you teased, ruffling his hair. “Now stop hiding in your room and let’s go get some breakfast. You owe me for last night.”

Idia nodded, still too stunned to form words, but the small, shy smile on his face said everything you needed to know.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #floyd leech #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud

1K notes · View notes

cashmoneyyysstuff · 6 months ago

Text

okay so,,i got an ask but instead of saving it i posted it unfinished like a dumbass so i had to delete AUGHHH anon man i hope you’re still sticking around n tysm for the ask :((( if you saw this earlier you’re a hacker bc I deleted that AT LIGHTNING SPEED anyways hope yall enjoy <3

Fem reader (boobs), fluff, katsu n reader in their 20s, katsuki is nyasty and a big baby, nakedness and such, katsuki talks about boobies soo suggestive i think?? just to be safe :3

request : i saw this video on tiktok before and thought it was so cute! it was a girl pranking her boyfriend by telling him to leave the room so she could change and he was just so confused, was wondering if u could do that with bkg 🥹 <33

right now, katsuki bakugo is about 99% convinced that there's a stranger in his house.

that, or you're mad at him.

"what ?" he asks again for what he knows is once too many, because you giggle. he feels your hand press against his chest, keeping him from following you into your bedroom. you're all smiles.

"i said, i'm changing."

“..so ?”

"so," you copy, making your voice gruff and nasally in a way that's making his nose scrunch. "you. wait outside." you dig your finger into his firm chest to accentuate your point, talking slowly like he's a dog. katsuki's eyebrows furrow harder.

clearly, you take him for a joke.

"you know i've already seen you naked before, right?"

you splutter at his bluntness and usually it'd make him smirk to see the effect he has on you. You cross your arms over your chest that you're trying to keep him from seeing for some reason. "yes, i know that, thanks for reminding me."

without missing a beat, he grabs both of your arms and pulls them apart, pulling a gasp from you. he's always had this weird trigger with crossed arms. he pulls you closer to him until you're firm to his chest and leans forward.

"so, there's nothin' you gotta hide from me." his voice his gravelly the lower he speaks, half lidded eyes looking you up and down, you do your best not to look too bothered.

" 'm not hiding anything, promise." you wiggle your hands out of his grip to lift them up in surrender. katsuki grumbles, you smirk "i just don't want you following me everywhere."

he leans back like you'd hit him, like you'd popped him straight on his mouth, eyes wide and mouth agape "what the-so what i can't walk around in my own damn house?!"

"and you always happen to be walking where i'm going ? conveniently ?" you cross your arms again, hobbling a bit away from your boyfriend so he couldn't pull the stunt from a few seconds ago.

katsuki, now that you’re out of reach, copies you and throws his beefy arms over each other. “i dunno if you noticed, but this place isn’t that fuckin’ huge. everywhere leads to the same place.” he squints when you giggle with a roll of your eyes.

“uhuh, that’s why you somehow end up in the bathroom just watching me. it’s all connected.” you sass, and you managed to dodge katsuki’s fingers attempting to wedge themselves into your sides with a squeal. you grip at the door in warning.

“i’m slamming this in your face !” you warn, pulling the door open and back to taunt him. he stares at you for a few more seconds before he scoffs, rolls his eyes, and groans dramatically . his arms flop to accentuate how much your denial irritates him.

“fine. since you fuckin’ hate being with me so bad, don’t even know why yer ass even moved in then..” you giggle at his not so quiet mutterings, grabbing his arm you pull him toward you

“i was joking, big baby, you can come in.”

katsuki blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. then his head drops and he shakes it, hair tussling around as he sighs loudly. you laugh and when he’s finally past the door, he pinches you.

“fuckin’ dumbass, thought you grew a third tit an’ didn’t want me to see or something.”

you spin around, smacking his arms causing him to cackle meanly at you.

“you’re such a child.” you huff, “i shouldn’t have let you in here.” you mutter, kicking off your pants. katsuki snickers behind you, you can practically sense he’s about to say something stupid.

“aw, ‘m flattered baby. ya want me to see your third tittie ?” katsuki swiftly dodges the sweatpants you’d launched at him, continuing to laugh. goddamn pro hero reflexes.

#tysm anon !!#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo fluff

2K notes · View notes

comically-callous · 6 months ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade reacting to his gender neutral crush kissing him because they're so in love with him before apologising when they realised what they just did please?

Ofc!!

X-Men with a gn!crush!Reader who suddenly kisses them 🤯🤯🤯

Includes: Remy LeBeau, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, and Kurt Wagner

A/n: I love them a normal amount. This took me a long time to write because tumblr kept deleting all of my work 😋😋😋 But, it’s here now. Hope you freaks annoy it. Requests are OPEN 💜

Remy:

It happens one day when you guys are in the kitchen cooking together

Remy (ever the opportunist) is helping you out by occasionally guiding your hands or gently grabbing your waist/hips whenever he moves past you. And you're definitely not complaining

Overall, the vibes are very flirtatious and cutesy, and you sort of get caught up in it.

After the food is in the oven and Remy is washing dishes, you walk over and kiss him.

Remy damn near drops the bowl he was rinsing, but he manages to keep his cool and almost immediately starts kissing you back

You're the first to pull away because it suddenly clicks for you that you're kissing your friend, so you break the kiss to start apologizing

"What you apologizing for, mon Ami?"

"I kissed you."

"And? I certainly didn't mind."

Remy has liked you for a while. That was pretty obvious to everyone. Everyone except you, since you thought he was just being flirty with you like he was with nearly everyone.

But, that's obviously not the case. He makes sure to make that very clear.

Once all of your feelings are cleared up, Remy pulls you closer to him by your hips and smirks softly. "You wanna try and kiss me again? For real this time?"

His ass did NOT finish those dishes 💀

Logan:

He comes back from a long mission, exhausted and not really in the mood for dealing with anyone

Well, that is until he sees you walking down the hallway. Then he decides he can maybe deal with one more person.

You're happy to see him back, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace that he didn't know he needed

"Ugh, I missed you!"

“You say that every time I come back from a mission."

"Yeah, because it's true."

He missed you too, but you don't need to know that.

You pull back from him just to lean in and kiss him.

That's probably the last thing he expected you to do. I mean, yeah he really like you, but he'd always been certain that you'd never want a guy like him.

After a moment of shock, he starts kissing you back, arms tightening around you

You pull away to ask "is this okay?" And he doesn’t even let you finish, just pulls you in for another kiss.

Sorry. He’s just wanted this for such a long time.

Wade:

He's liked you for a pretty long time. But, he knows you probably won’t like him back with how he looks. And he tells himself he’s fine with that.

But, since you two have been friends for a while, you get curious. So, you ask if you can see his face.

He agrees eventually and pulls his mask off to show you.

Normally he doesn't get so nervous to show people his real face. But, it's different with you. He doesn't think he can just laugh off your disgust.

When he pulls his mask off and your eyes widen, he immediately assumes the worst

"Yeah. Hideous, I know. Not the chiseled supermodel that I sound like under the-"

"Wade, you're like, hot."

"Excuse me?"

He can't believe it. Actually, he doesn't believe it. After you repeat yourself, he starts telling you that he doesn't need you to lie to him and that's when you cut him off with a kiss.

He pulls away immediately just because of utter shock "Woah! Cool down, hot stuff. What are you doing?"

You tell him you've always liked him, and that you still like him (maybe even like him more) now that he's shown you his face.

He's over the moon.

"Well, why didn't you tell me sooner? We could've been doing this all along!"

"Doing what?"

And then he kisses you again. Heheheheehehehe 👅👅👅

Kurt:

Kurt loves helping you with anything and everything whenever he can. It’s one of the ways he shows his appreciation for you.

So, when you receive a (very minor) injury during training, he’s at your side almost immediately

He drags you away and makes you sit down, treating your small cut as if it were a leg that had fallen off

“Don’t move, Schatz. I will be back with a first aid kit.”

“Kurt, you don’t need to-“

“Stay, please.”

So, you let him patch you up, and he does far too much for a wound that you could probably just slap a bandaid over

But, you don’t mind. You admire him as he’s crouched down to the floor, delicately treating the small cut on your knee

And then he looks up at you with those bright, yellow eyes and he smiles. And you can’t help yourself. You lean down to him and kiss him.

This poor boy is so surprised he can’t do anything. He just freezes up. So, you assume you’ve done something wrong and you pull away.

“I’m so sorry. I thought- I was just-“

“Please do that again.”

“What?”

“Please.”

And you do 🧚‍♀️

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pathologicalreid · 5 months ago

Text

what goes bump in the night | s.r.

in which Spencer's struggling with violent nightmares after prison, and you find yourself on the receiving end of his tossing and turning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: reader gets whapped in the face. don't like don't read, please. blood, prison arc, black eye, a lot of guilt. therapy. word count: 1.89k a/n: (this wasn't a request but shout out to the anon who told me i had to repost this after i deleted it) this is some dark shit but i have to admit i do think about the possibility a lot. take care while reading my loves.

Several years in the BAU had inadvertently trained you to wake up at any slight movement or noise. While some might call it paranoia, you considered it to be a finely tuned skill.

Spencer didn’t sleep talk before prison, and even now, he only mumbled in his sleep when he was having a nightmare. Normally, he didn’t move, he just tossed his head around and begged for whoever he was seeing in his nightmare to just hold on. Tonight was different, he sounded like he was pleading for someone to leave him alone, and he was thrashing more than usual.

You knew there was a risk of waking him, but you reached out and gently shook his shoulder anyway. “Spence,” you whispered, not wanting to hurtle him out of his darkened dreamscape.

There was no response. No sign of him coming even close to waking up.

His thrashing became worse, and his mumbling became even less intelligible like something was covering his mouth in his dream. Reaching out from your side of the bed, you tried to grab his hand, hoping it would be something that he could use to ground himself. Gripping his hand, you said his name again, more forcefully this time.

The pain didn’t even register at first. The first thing you recognized was the sensation of having something stuck in your eye, a small twinge in the outer corner that sent your hands flying to the side of your face.

Oh.

With your uninjured eye, you looked up to see Spencer, awake. Breathing heavy, sure, but awake. Very slowly, his breathing slowed, but he had seemingly forgotten that he was sharing a bed with you until you felt liquid trickling from your nose and scrambled to the bathroom before you got blood all over the sheets.

His wide eyes followed your shadow through the bedroom, putting the convoluted puzzle pieces together as he came out from under his nightmare-induced fugue state only to find a different type of panic. You faintly heard him curse and rustle the sheets as you shut the bathroom door harder than you intended.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your right eye was tearing up as a result of the impact, and your nose was trickling blood down your face. Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the counter, you pressed them to your nose, blinking the tears from your eyes to the sound of your heart beating through your chest.

Spencer knocked on the bathroom door, followed by a larger thud that you assumed was him leaning his head against the door. “Can I come in?”

You tried not to sniff, hating the sensation of your nose being covered, you responded, “It’s your bathroom.” Your tone was far too blasé, and Spencer was going to see through it immediately.

“That’s not what I asked,” he told you, a slight tone of desperation ringing through. You knew what he wanted to know; he was asking if you were comfortable with him being in the same room as you – if you’d feel safe with him in the same room as you.

Leaning your head back, you took as deep of a breath as your body would physically allow you before you answered, “Yeah, you can come in.”

Before you had even finished speaking, Spencer had opened the door to the bathroom, letting the light stream into the bedroom, “Fuck,” he murmured when he saw you, “Hey, don’t lean your head back. You don’t want the blood to run down your throat.”

“Okay,” your voice quavered, watching him lift his hands like he wanted to guide your head down until he realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands – he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. Leaning over the sink, you let coagulated blood fall from your mouth, watching it go down the drain before you looked up at Spencer, who watched on in horror at the mess he had created. “Can you grab more tissues?” You asked him, giving him a job to busy his idle hands.

Instantly, Spencer grabbed a handful of tissues and held them out for you, within your range of motion. Still leaning over the sink, you took the new tissues and held them to your nose, haphazardly dropping the soiled tissue in the basin beneath you. “I don’t… What-“

Cutting him off, you spoke, “Do you still have those ice packs? The first aid ones from last year,” you made a new request, giving him a job to perform so that he wouldn’t apologize to you. He’d apologize until he was blue in the face, but you still wouldn’t know how to respond.

He nodded, crouching in front of one of the cabinets and filtering through a first aid kit, hoping to produce a disposable ice pack for you to place near your eye. With the timidness of a newborn foal, Spencer set the plastic on the counter next to you.

Your boyfriend watched as you carefully peeled the tissues from your face, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped, only to quickly replace the tissue when you noticed a trickle of fresh blood making its way down your philtrum. “Aren’t you supposed to pinch it or something?”

“Yes, you can pinch the bridge of your nose to staunch the bleeding,” Spencer said, grabbing your discarded Kleenex and putting them in the garbage bin. He watched intently as you reached up your free hand to pinch your nose, “Does… does it hurt?”

Giving him a quick shake of the head, you met his eyes through the mirror, “I don’t think it’s broken,” you told him, avoiding answering most of his question.

He loosed a sigh of relief, “Thank god,” he murmured, keeping an eye on you as you wondered how terrified he must have been to invoke the name of a deity he didn’t believe in.

Once you were finally able to drop the last of the tissues in the sink, you were faced with an even worse reality. There was no way of escaping the black eye that you already had forming, the tender skin would be further marred with time. “I think it looks worse than it actually is,” you offered meekly, reaching to your side and grabbing the ice pack off of the counter. You popped the center of it before wrapping it in a towel that Spencer had set out for you.

Holding in a hiss as the towel touched your face, you allowed your eyes to wander across the rest of your body. Your shirt had drips of blood on it, but the larger issue was red encrusted all over your face. With the urgency of a sloth, Spencer took a different towel from the drawer and ran it under the tap, wringing it out before holding it up, “May I?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, thankful for your newly cleared airway as you extended your neck, giving him the access he needed to wipe the blood from your chin and neck. “Spence-“

“I’m so sorry,” he interjected, his movements faltering as he let his hand drop to your shoulder.

You shook your head, crinkling the icepack in your hand, you blinked rapidly, hoping to clear your vision. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” you told him, it was the truth. He had obviously been having a violent nightmare, and you grabbing him had likely triggered a fight or flight response.

Spencer sighed dejectedly, “I burst a blood vessel in your eye. I’m so…” his voice trailed off in the middle of his sentence, leaving you unsure whether he was going to apologize again or go off on a self-deprecating tirade. “I hit you,” he breathed, abruptly yanking his hands away from you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.” Setting the washcloth on the counter, he put his hands up in surrender and stepped away from you.

Leaning against the bathroom counter, you wished for an inkling – anything you could say to him that would prevent his auto-villainization. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. Saying you hit me sounds so…”

“Wrong? That’s because it is,” he said harshly, and you could almost see the storm of self-loathing that was brewing in his mind.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on the icepack before looking up at him, “but it makes it sound like it was intentional. You didn’t hit me, you… thwapped me.”

Spencer loosed a shaky sigh, “I’m not so sure that’s better.”

“Would you prefer bonked?” You proposed, looking at him and hoping for a small smile, but being disappointed when you were met with the same haunted expression. “It was an accident,” you insisted, reaching out your unoccupied hand and taking his hand in yours, “I am fine.”

He scoffed dismissively, “I should have had a better handle on myself.”

You frowned, “You were asleep, Spence. You couldn’t have had a better handle on yourself. It wasn’t on purpose, and you’re taking care of me now,” you told him softly.

“But you’re scared of it happening again,” he challenged you.

When he had come home, you knew he had been changed. Not necessarily for the better or for worse, but he was most certainly changed. You had heard everything in bits and pieces, what had happened in Millburn, what had happened with Cat, but nothing had prepared you for the harshness of your new reality. He was capable of harming others, but that didn’t mean you thought he’d hurt you again. “You’re disappointed in yourself, but you don’t believe you get to feel that way. You’re projecting onto me,” you told him, taking your hand back.

Spencer flinched back, “Don’t profile me.”

“You, Spencer Reid, would never knowingly lay a hand on me,” you insisted, you believed it. You believed it even if he didn’t believe it himself.

The two of you sat in an angst-filled silence before he stood up straight, gently starting to usher you into the bedroom. Handing you a t-shirt from your drawer to change into, you could see his internal struggle as he grabbed a pillow from the bed and made his way toward the door.

Despondently, your shoulders slumped forward, “Where are you going?” You asked softly, hating to watch him leave your shared bedroom over this.

“I’m sleeping on the couch. I’m gonna… I’ll try to set up a meeting with my therapist in the morning. I just…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you with wide, sad eyes, “You’re okay?”

Your heart ached at his voice as you nodded, opening your arms for him and letting out a sigh of relief when he returned to you for a hug. Reaching your free hand behind him, you rubbed his back comfortingly, “We’re going to make it through this, mark my words.”

He nodded in affirmation as he pulled away, “For my own peace of mind, I’ll sleep on the couch for a while.”

You accepted it, knowing that he needed to deal with this in his own way, he closed the door behind him, effectively leaving you alone. Laying back on the pillows with your icepack still clutched to your face, you sighed, wondering how long it had been since your boyfriend felt any semblance of peace of mind.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot

1K notes · View notes

pomegranatesarchive · 7 months ago

Text

queen shit | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x pageant queen! reader

summary: max verstappen mets you, his long term celebrity crush at a charity event.

notes; someone request this but i accidentally posted it before i finished and had to delete it…i hope this finds you anon

liked by rupaulofficial, maxverstappen, mclaren, and 913,047 others!

yoursername: very successful event tonight, many thank you's to all those who attended and donated, much love 💜

view comments below!

user1: by very successful she means that she just raised over 20 million dollars for family's in need. 20 million dollars. TWENTY MILLION DOLLARS.

user2: QUEEN. SHIT.

user3: i love rich people actually putting their money and status to work

user4: my goat 💪💪

user5: there were SO MANY different celebrities there

user6: and she definitely did NOT know all of them!

user7: probably just invited them so more money could be donated 😭

user8: was the most random people too, like kim kardiashian?? mitski??? f1 drivers??? hockey players??

user9: no seriously. because why was i watching the livestream only to see george russell dancing in the background. very horribly may i add

georegrussel|63: thank you for the invite! i had the time of my life!

yoursername: of course george! thank you for the donating :) <3

user10: they’re friends???

user11: some of yall are FAKE FANS. yn and george have been friends for YEARS. he even posted her when she won miss universe and many times after

user12: i wasn't even alive when she won miss universe...

user13: PAUSE.

user14: WHAT ARE YOU ON SOCIAL MEDIA? THIS IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR YOU

user15: YOURE SIX?? AND CAN SPELL??

user16: are we all going to pretend like max didn't just meet his celebrity crush?

user17: most people here don't know who he is 😭

user18: "meet" is a STRETCH, he stood behind her all night just staring...

user19: yeah it was actually kinda sad

user20: f1twt is CLOWNING HIM SO HARD RN

user23: 3x world champion and he's too scared to go up to his celebrity crush

user24: OKAY GUYYYSSS BUTTT this is his first time seeing her in person! ofc he was shocked, maybe next time he'll actually go up to her?

landonorris: thanks for the invite!

georgerussell63: you were my plus one?

landonorris: SHHHH

georgerussell63: in fact, everyone on the grid got personally invited, except you?

landonorris: STOP AIRING OUT MY BUSINESS

user27: yn definitely didn't invite him directly just so lando could be embarrassed like this

alex_albon: best thai food ever (other then my moms) thank you for the invite!

user25: yeah we saw they way your scarfed that shit down

user26: acting like it was the last fucking supper

yourusername: thank you for coming alex! (and for taking home the leftovers)

user28: HE TOOK HOME THE LEFT OVERS?

maxverstappen1: hi

georgerussell63: oh no

landonorris: no way he does it

charles_leclerc: i believe in you max

carlossainz55: don't hype him up! max don't do it. don't embarrass yourself like this

oscarpiastri: i say go for it max

yourusername: hi max :)

georgerussell63: omg omg OMG

maxverstappen1: would you like to go on a date with me?

landonorris: oh he did it...

carlossainz55: NOOO

charles_leclerc: yay max!

user29: it's been 10 hours and still no response...

liked by georgerussell63, and 762,091 others!

yourusername: pretty sunset 🌅

view comments below!

user30: is that…a man?

user31: this makes max being rejected so much more humiliating

user32: SHE HAS A WHOLE BOYFRIEND?? 😓

user33: max found sobbing into his pillow

user34: *not clickbait*

georgerussell63: i laughed

user35: GEORGE???

user36: he’s funny for this

user37: max most definitely doesn’t think it’s funny

user38: yns first time soft launching and it’s right after max publicly asks her out…hm!

user39: she was waiting for the funniest moment to do this

user40: QUEEN SHIT

user41: ok but who is this man 🤨

user42: don’t call me delusional…but that hand kinda looks like max

user43: okay granny let’s get you back to the nursing home…

user44: thankful i’m not this delusional

user45: free yn from the max fans…

user46: @/user42 DONT LET THEM SILENCE YOU

landonorris: he cried

yourusername: i cried

landonorris; we crode

user47: okay it’s definitely max

user48: lando knows something

user49: MAX ISNT IN THE LIKES??

user50: it really isn’t him…hes been flirting with her through the likes for years

user51: rip max being the first to like yns post..gone but never forgotten 🕊️

charles_leclerc: hehehe…hehehe…hehe

user52: WHAT DO TOU KNOW CHARLES

user53: don’t fuck with me charles. i am not in the mood.

user54: you can’t convince me that man is not max when all his friends are in the comments section like this

user55: charles istg

alex_albon: i know something 😏

user56: ok. it’s definitely max.

user57: i still don’t think it is…we can’t see his face

user58: but what are the chances she soft launches after max asks her out

user59: she probably did it to be funny?

user60: and it worked! she’s too funny

liked by alex_albon, carlossainz, and 914,058 others!

maxverstappen1: matching sunglasses 🕶️

view comments below!

user61: QUICK, WHOS FEET DO THOSE LOOK LIKE

user62: oh max…

user63: okay so! it’s either max and yn DID go on that date, or yn has a bf and max posted this to save himself

user64: i realllyyy hope max and yn did go on that date because if max posted this just to save himself the embarrassment….

user65: what if this isn’t even a girl, and it’s one of max’s friend pretending to be a girl 😭

user66: i can see charles pretending to be the girl

user67: HE SO WOULD

charles_leclerc: those are NOT my toes 🤕

user68: okay but no one on the grid has skinny little girl hands like this

user68: logan does

logansargent: ?

user68: well this is awkward

georgerussell63: well well well

user69: THIS CAN MEAN MANY THINGS GEORGE!! IS THIS YN OR NOT

user70: i don’t think it’s yn. she’s too pretty for max.

comment liked by georgerussell63

user70: GEORGE LIKED??

user71: so it’s NOT yn?

user72: but he could mean it in a “they are dating but she’s too pretty for him” way

user73: GRRRR

carlossainz55: i can’t believe it

user74: WHAT. WHAT CANT YOU BELIVE CARLOS

user75: you can’t believe that yn and max actually went out?? or you can’t believe max got a another girl after being publicly rejected??

user76: they’re like giving us hints but at the same time they’re not??

user77: THEYRE PLAYING WITH US

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 802,520 others!

maxverstappen1: i’m dating a pageant queen and you’re not!

view comments below!

user78: FINALLY!

user79: could’ve just said this earlier..

user80: could’ve saved us the trouble 😒

carlossainz55: i still can’t believe it

user81: SO HE DID MEAN IT IN A “can’t believe you actually got her” WAY

maxverstappen1: you have no faith in me :(

carlossainz55: correct!

charles_leclerc: i believed in you max!

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 😄

carlossainz55: he’s lying, he bet €50 you wouldn’t get a text back

maxverstappen1: THAT BASTARD

charles_leclerc: IT DIDNT SEEM LIKE YOU WERE GOING TO GET A REPLY! I THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD TIME TO WIN €50 AND I WOULD’VE GIVEN YOU HALF?

user83: i could be dating a pageant queen, you don’t know me

user84: are you?

user83: am i what?

user84: dating a pageant queen?

user83: no

user84: what is wrong with you

user85: i love how nobody was hating, we all just wanted to know if max x yn was happening

user86: max has gotten his dream girl…WE CHEERED

user87: years later and lot of instagram likes, we DID IT 👏

user88: we?

user89: i was there almost 8 years ago when max put his first like on yns post, so yes! WE

user90: thank god for that charity event

liked by maxverstappen1

yourusername: former pageant queen

maxverstappen1: you’ll always be a pageant queen in my eyes 🥰

landonorris; simp

maxverstappen1: mad you don’t have a girlfriend?

user91: WOAH GIRLFRIEND?

user92: girl what did you think was going on here

user91: I DIDDNT KNOW THEY MADE IT OFFICIAL

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 715,047 others!

yourusername: i’m dating a 3x wdc and you’re not!

view comments below!

user92: please don’t rub it in

user93: i’m soooo happy for you guys (sarcasm)

user93: yes i’m jealous

danielricciardo: actually i am dating a 3x wdc and his name is max verstappen

yourusername; really? because max verstappen is is laying on me right now

danielricciardo: that’s a clone. the REAL max verstappen is laying to my right.

yourusername: this is what we call schizophrenia 🥰

user94: you guys are so cute! (i’m jealous, i’m so fucking jealous)

user95: max started dating his celebrity crush of 8 years in 8 days! we did it joe! we did it

user96: they won’t last. they’re moving to fast.

user97: they’re both grown adults who know what they want 🤷‍♀️

maxverstappen1: that’s me!

yourusername; that’s you!

georgerussell63: yeah max we have EYES.

maxverstappen1: don’t be pissy because yn likes me more now

georgerussell63: she does NOT

maxverstappen1: you keep thinking that 😇

charles_leclerc: i always knew he could do it!

maxverstappen1: no you didn’t. stop lying to me.

charles_leclerc: IM SORRY. I WAS GOING TO SHARE THE €50 WITH YOUUU.

maxverstappen1: I DONT CARE @/oscarpiastri is the ONLY know who truly believed in me

oscarpiastri: i bet €100 against you

maxverstappen1: I CANT TRUST ANYONE

alex_albon: does this mean we’ll be invited to more charity events?

user98: you’re just thinking of the food 😐

alex_albon: …yeah

maxverstappen1: 😁🥰👊😏🔥💕🤗

user99: bro starts dating his celebrity crush and forgets how to act

user100: me if i was dating oscar

. . .

notes: thank you for the request! (even though i accidentally deleted it)

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deonsx · 2 months ago

Note

Hii, this is my first time requesting but I love your writing 🔥🔥 Can I request bllk boys (specifically Bachira and Rin 💥) with their s/o being recorded/violated in public? This happened to me sometime this year and I wanted some comfort. It's okay if you don't feel comfortable writing this, so no pressure. Thank you!!

First of all, I am very sorry about the situation you are experiencing, I hope this post makes you happy +Nagi is here

Rin Itoshi

The two are walking through a bustling city square, hand in hand, when Rin notices something unsettling a man with a phone pointed suspiciously in their direction. His sharp gaze locks onto the individual

“Stay close to me” he mutters, his grip tightening around her hand. The man’s behavior becomes increasingly obvious, his phone aimed squarely at her. Rin’s blood boils. Before his girlfriend can say anything, Rin strides toward the man, his towering frame radiating menace

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rin’s voice is low but filled with an edge that cuts through the noise. The man stammers, attempting to excuse himself, but Rin is having none of it. In one swift motion, he snatches the phone, his speed honed from years on the field. A quick check reveals the worst photos and videos clearly taken without consent

Rin’s jaw tightens as his anger surges “Delete it. Now” The man hesitates, but Rin’s piercing glare and firm stance make it clear there’s no room for negotiation. With a trembling hand, the man complies, erasing every file under Rin’s watchful eye satisfied but still seething

Rin hurls the phone back at the man, his expression ice-cold “If I see you again, you’ll regret it” He turns to his girlfriend, his anger melting into concern. “Are you okay? Did he touch you?” His hands cup her face, scanning for any signs of distress

“I’m fine Rin Thank you…” she whispers, her voice shaky. Rin pulls her into a protective hug, his tone softening “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever”

From that moment on, Rin becomes even more protective, ensuring she’s always safe when they’re out together. Though shaken, his unwavering support reassures her, proving just how deeply he cares

Bachira Meguru

Today, he had whisked his girlfriend to a lively park filled with street performers and food stalls. His playful energy was infectious, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as they explored

However, Bachira’s keen eyes noticed something unsettling a man nearby with his phone out, clearly focused on his girlfriend. The easygoing smile on Bachira’s face faded slightly as he tilted his head, his sharp instincts kicking in “Hey, babe” he said softly, his usual sing-song tone subdued. “Stay here for a sec, ‘kay?”

Before she could ask why, Bachira was already moving toward the man, his steps light but purposeful. The guy didn’t even notice until Bachira was right in front of him, his golden eyes gleaming with a dangerous edge “Yo~!” Bachira chirped, a mischievous grin on his face. “Whatcha filming?”

The man stammered, caught off guard by Bachira’s sudden approach. He tried to deny it, but Bachira leaned in, his smile widening in a way that wasn’t entirely friendly “Lemme see” he said, plucking the phone from the man’s hands with startling speed. His eyes scanned the screen, confirming his suspicions—photos and videos of his girlfriend

Bachira’s grin didn’t waver, but his tone darkened. “You know, it’s kinda creepy to record people without asking. Don’t you think?” He quickly deleted everything, his fingers moving deftly over the screen. Once done, he handed the phone back with a casual shrug, as if it were no big deal

“But hey, if you’re bored, you should try filming squirrels or something. Way more fun.” His voice was light, but his eyes held a warning that made the man quickly retreat. Returning to his girlfriend, Bachira’s usual playfulness was back, though a protective arm found its way around her waist

“Problem solved!” he said cheerfully, nuzzling her shoulder “You okay? That guy was super weird, huh?” She nodded, still a bit shaken, and Bachira pulled her closer, his warmth reassuring

“Don’t worry~” he said with a wink “Nobody’s gonna mess with my favorite person. I’ll scare ‘em all away if I have to!”

Nagi Seishiro

They were browsing through a small outdoor market when Nagi noticed something strange a guy lingering nearby, his phone tilted suspiciously in their direction. Nagi’s sharp instincts caught on immediately

“Hey” he said softly, nudging his girlfriend closer to him. His usually laid-back tone was heavier, more serious “Stay near me for a second” Before she could ask why, Nagi’s eyes locked onto the man. The stranger’s phone was unmistakably aimed at her. A rare spark of irritation flared in Nagi’s normally placid demeanor

In a few long strides, Nagi was in front of the guy, his tall frame towering effortlessly. He tilted his head slightly, his pale eyes half-lidded but sharp “What’re you doing with that?” he asked, his voice calm yet laced with an unmistakable edge. The man fumbled for an excuse but Nagi didn’t wait. With surprising swiftness, he snatched the phone. A quick swipe revealed photos and videos of his girlfriend

“That’s annoying” Nagi muttered, his brows furrowing. Without hesitation, he deleted every file, his movements deliberate. Once done, he handed the phone back, his expression unreadable “Don’t do it again,” he said simply, his voice low but firm “Next time, I won’t be this nice”

The man quickly disappeared, and Nagi returned to his girlfriend, his face softening “Sorry about that” he said, his hand slipping into hers. “Didn’t mean to make a scene. You okay?”

She nodded, though her hands trembled slightly. Nagi noticed and pulled her into a gentle embrace, resting his chin on her head “It’s fine” he murmured, his voice soothing “No one’s gonna mess with you when I’m around”

Enjoy!

557 notes · View notes

hellfire--cult · 30 days ago

Text

Actor!Steve Harrington x BFF!Fem!Reader

wc: 15k

Summary: Your best friend asks for a huge favor when an extra calls out a day before filming a scene. A kiss scene. You have never been in front of a camera, unlike him, so you ask if you could practice... and also test the waters because you never kissed your best friend. The man you've been in love with for the past years.

+18, friends to lovers, idiots in love, steve is not that famous yet, lots of friendly banter, reader is a bit self conscious, kissing, smut, p in v (protected), 69, handjob, fingering, a little bit of dirty talking

a/n: this wip has been in my docs for months. I recently got back to it and finished it in just days. It was supposed to just be the smut, but as always, your girl can't help herself. Thank you @andvys and @ghost-proofbaby for proofreading, god knows that if i do that myself i would just delete it all.

Please reblog. Be kind.

NOT JUST AN EXTRA

“Absolutely fucking NOT!”

Steve knew you would react like that, it wasn’t a small favor, he also knew that. Your eyes were wide, bewildered, looking at him as if he had grown a second head or a palm tree at the top of it with a monkey dangling from a leaf. He could only sigh as he shook his head at you.

“Come on, you’re gonna get paid, and we’re tight on time to do an audition for this. It’s just a few seconds, ten tops!” You gritted your teeth together as you crossed your arms over your chest. He winced, knowing you were about to increase the tone of your voice. He knows you too well, you aren’t his best friend for nothing.

“Ten seconds! Ten seconds of me being on the big screen for the first time!” You yelled and he closed his eyes and nodded.

“I know, I know–” He opened his eyes to look into yours, pleading, begging. “I– It’s just that small scene. Small, tiny, and we can do it fast.”

He could see how your eyes showed how you wanted to blow him off, but also the tenderness of caring for your best friend. Eyes he always appreciated. Eyes he adored. Eyes he loved with all of his heart. You rubbed your forehead in thought as you looked down at the floor.

“I– Are you sure you can’t get someone else?” You asked and he sighed, shaking his head. Steve’s hope started rising as you deliberated until you finally looked up at him and nodded. “Okay… Okay… Fine.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around your frame, squishing you and lifting you up to twirl you around. You squealed, a giggle escaping your lips, a shenanigan he never stopped doing everytime you did something he was happy about. Since middle school, he twirls you around whenever he is proud, delighted, or you help him with stuff.

You’re put back on your feet, shaking your head as you take a step away from him, a smile on your face, but you notice a nervous chuckle come out of his lips. You frowned because wasn’t he happy? He cleared his throat and nodded once more, looking down at you.

“Alright– I will talk to James to tell him you’ll do it–” And something was not right. He was nervous, you noticed it, so you squinted at him.

“Steve… What’s the scene about?”

He let a choked laughter out, a fake one, rubbing the back of his head. You felt a certain anger growing inside of you as you looked at how he was reacting. You tilted your head, waiting for him to stop being stupid for a second.

“Um… Well, you see… It’s just– It’s just this small scene–” You glared at your best friend as he kept rambling. You know that when Steve is nervous he rambles… or when he is about to ask for a big, big, HUGE, favor… One you might not like.

“And what is my part in this scene?” You pressed on as he cleared his throat and looked down as he mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t hear, making you frown. “What did you say?”

“It’s… and well…” You still couldn’t hear him, your irritation only growing each second as you started tapping your foot on the floor.

“Speak clearly Steve, stop mumbling, or I swear to god–”

“We have to kiss while you pretend to ride me.”

And your mouth dropped at that as Steve saw how your confused frown turned into one of shock and your whole body froze on the spot. He gulped as he waited for your response, but you were still looking at him as if he had just told you the most shocking news there is to exist.

He took a deep breath as he looked away for a second, still waiting. He knows he is asking too much. He knows it, he is not stupid, and he knows this was selfish. He is very much aware of how selfish he is, asking you to play this part but–

Steve just wants to kiss you at least once in his life.

While you’re still in front of him, mouth agape, you fail to notice just like you did all these years, how much the man you call your best friend loves you. You have failed to notice. How he looks at you, how he worships you, how he is willing to kill and die for you. How jealous he is of anyone that looks your way, how jealous he was of all the lovers you took, your ex.

And he knows you have failed to see his feelings, and he assumes that you have been unable to see them because you have never seen him in the same light he sees you. So, for once in his life he will take something he always wanted from you. A kiss. A simple kiss. Of course he wanted to do so many other things with you, but a kiss already means the world for Steve.

“I have to do what?” You asked as you stared at him and he took a sharp intake of breath and nodded, wincing as he talked.

“Yeah… That’s why I’m asking you because– It’s kind of an intimate scene, and I don’t really want to kiss a stranger they had to hire at the last minute…” He lied. He did many times before, but he needed the excuse, he just hopes you don’t see through the lie.

You could only stare at him for a few times as you felt your heart wanting to burst out of your chest. You would kiss your best friend. Intimately. Even if fake, you would still kiss him. After all these years of friendship, of shared moments… and after all these years of harboring this burning love and desire you feel for him.

Feelings you had buried, feelings you were managing to leave behind the closer he got to stardom. Knowing you would see him less, that he would start dating another celebrity sooner or later, that he would forget about you and that would give you the freedom to move on, despite feeling completely destroyed.

But you would have been free.

And now, he is giving you this chance. An opportunity you don’t want to miss, but it might just break you. Ruin you for anything and anyone that might come after him. A ten-second kiss, maybe twenty seconds if a second take is required. Perhaps you could fail the scene many times… get him for a whole full minute…

It’s risky. Your heart is at stake, your feelings are going to be crushed after it, knowing you will never taste his lips again, or have him as close as you did. You shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t but you won’t ever have this chance again.

“Fine.” Your voice was small yet his eyes lit up the moment you agreed. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, almost choking him up but he kept a poker face as best as he could. He forced a smile on his lips as he appeared relieved at your response, but that’s why Steve became an actor.

It’s a smile of happiness yet filled with sadness because Steve Harrington promised himself something if you agreed on this little favor of his—something that would rip a part of him, who he is and has been his whole life.

He would let go of you.

It was time to let this love for you die.

—-----------------------------------------------

You could feel yourself sweating as you scanned the document in your hand. The script. It was just one stupid action line, no words in between, just the description of what was happening in the scene.

Kristoff passionately kisses a random girl at a motel, and she is rubbing herself on him while they sit on the bed. He gets a call and the kiss gets interrupted. He excuses himself and leaves promptly.

“Seriously… random girl. That’s my name.” You scoffed as you threw the script on the bed while Steve sat cross-legged, at the feet of the bed. He looked at you over his glasses and he put down his own papers as he sighed.

“Well, it is just a random scene to reveal my character’s personality at the beginning of the movie.” He softly replies to you and you sigh, leaning against the headboard behind your head. You were at his loft in New York City—one that gladly remains hidden from the fans, and paparazzi.

“So your character is a playboy.” You smile at him and he huffs, shaking his head at you with a smile on his face.

“Yes, but then it is revealed–”

“Yeah, the trauma, the unloved boy, blah blah blah–” Your voice became muffled with an ‘oof’ as your face was squashed by a pillow being thrown at your face. You groaned as you pulled it off only to see Steve chuckling at you, biting his bottom lip that only made you gulp the nerves you didn’t know you were holding in your throat.

“Shut up. I mean… Mouse, this could be it. The one movie that will… skyrocket me to higher opportunities.” His smile faded slightly as your face softened… and your heart slowly broke. You knew this movie was going to be good, and you knew this was going to be the chance for his career to take off.

Your time with him now is limited. Once this movie is out, you know the internet will go crazy over him. Fans will increase, paparazzis will be more insufferable, more interviews, more articles, more shows– And where do you fit in all that?

“I know… And it will be a hit, I just know it.” Your eyes went back to the script and you got hold of it again, pretending to scan over the words just so you wouldn’t look at him, just so you wouldn’t feel like you’re already losing him. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he licked his lips and tilted his head.

“How do you know?” He asked and you didn’t look up at him as you shrugged, letting your heart speak your truth. He was still your best friend, and the love you feel for him is still unconditional, and the words you say are honest.

“Because it’s you Steve. You are really good at what you do, and I know you will nail this role and all the ones that will be presented to you.” If only you would have raised your head, you would have noticed how his eyes were looking at you.

Devoted. Whipped. Destroyed.

He gulped once more as he scanned you, and then he looked at the clock. It was getting late, but the scene was the next day and he doesn’t know if he should ask but–

“Hey, mouse–” But you interrupted him as realization struck you. Nerves ran all over your body, creating goosebumps, and then– fear.

“Steve… How do you kiss in movies?” He blinked a few times, and he shook his head a bit to center again as he grew confused at your question.

“Huh?” You felt your whole body beating, not only your heart. You never did this, not even on a stage. You never faked kissing before, you never acted it out.

“You heard me! I mean, is it just lips? Pecks? Tongue? Do you fake the tongue? Do you not? Do you move a lot, or just a little? How do you know if you are overdoing it? Or what if you are not doing it naturally?” His eyes were wide as he listened to your outburst. You looked nervous, flushed, jittery… cute.

“Mouse, you need to calm down–”

“Calm–? Calm down!? You have kissed thousands of times on screen, this is my first time Steve!” His heart softened as he heard you, noticing your distress and how you scanned the line on the script over and over. His heart started picking up a pace as he felt the anticipation for what he was going to propose.

“Well… the basic theory is to know what the scene is about… This one in particular, since it’s just the foreplay for sex, it can be just– lips moving rapidly, and maybe some tongue… It just comes naturally.” Your mouth fell agape as you stared at your best friend. He was being too casual about it, but of course he would be, this is his job and for you, it’s a world-shattering event.

“You say it as if it were the simplest of things Steve. I– Fuck, I shouldn’t have agreed, I’m gonna be so fucking awkward–” You put the script down, running your hands through your hair and Steve bit his bottom lip, not knowing if what he will say next would give him away, or if you are going to run off.

“We… I mean…” He stuttered, once again. Mumbling because of nervousness. You sighed and looked at him as he looked at his hands, playing with the ring that he still holds onto on his left index finger. One you bought for him when he graduated high school, while he gifted the matching one that resides on your right index finger.

“What?” You asked and he cleared his throat, looking up at you over his glasses, a nervous cough coming out of his lips as he tried to sound professional and not desperate.

“We can always practice.” Your eyes were looking at him as if he was the craziest man alive, but it was just because you were in shock. This means you would have two opportunities to kiss him. Today, and tomorrow when in front of the cameras. But– You can’t accept too quickly, even if you are excited, and giddy, and want to answer yes immediately–

“Practice? Like– Kissing?” He took a deep breath and nodded, hoping you would accept, hoping you would let him kiss you twice in his life, and he knew that he might be a little pathetic in his way of getting a kiss from you, but he didn’t want to lose you completely by confessing to you. He wanted to keep you in his life, even if you were his demise.

“Yeah. I can tell you when it is overdoing it and when it’s not.” He felt his mouth go dry as you looked away towards the sunset that was shining through his window. He inspected your profile, your beautiful profile. Your lips puckering out in thought, the expanse of your neck, your collarbone that peeked out of the V-collar of your T-Shirt.

His heart was punching his chest open as his eyes kept moving, not being able to contain himself. Not being able to contain his thoughts from running wild at the thought of touching your lips for the first time. What it could be, what it could lead to… and it was probably just you scrunching your nose at the thought of kissing him.

“You… Don’t mind kissing me?” You still weren’t looking at him, not daring to look at his eyes, getting ready for when he tells you that it’s just work and that it means nothing. Not the way it does to you.

“Mouse, you are fucking beautiful. Of course I don’t mind.” And you didn’t expect that from him at all, and in all honesty, he didn’t even process the words coming out of his mouth just now, but they weren’t any less true. Your eyes slowly found his as your head turned to face him. The orange hues of the sunset hit his irises just right, making his brown eyes turn hazel, clear, and honey-like.

His freckles are basically sparkling at you right now, contrasting with the light, and his short stubble shining as well. He looks so beautiful. Just like that summer all those years ago, the summer you realized you were in love with him. He had only offered you some ice cream, and the sun was just like the one shining through the window right now. He was smiling, younger, and boyish.

And now, he is a man. Your best friend is a man.

“I’m happy to know you won’t vomit on my face the moment you kiss me then.” You giggled, trying to loosen the tension, to loosen your nerves a little bit as you tried to act as his best friend, the way you’ve always been. Maybe you should become an actress as well. He scoffed at you with a shake of his head and then he looked down at his hands, those big hands that grew from one day to another in your freshman year.

“And what about you? You gonna vomit on my face?” His voice was lower than before, and you licked your lips as you felt your body flushing. You suddenly felt smaller, and girlier, and you didn’t know why.

“N-No. I’ll try to not repeat what happened when we were twelve.” He laughed at your words and you couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even if it was disgusting. He was spinning you around after you beat him in a hot dog-eating competition. He was happy you won, but he didn’t believe you when you told him you were feeling sick.

“That was on me. I deserved that.” His eyes found yours again and his smile faded slightly as he scanned your face. “So? Should we–”

“A peck.” You quickly responded and you wanted to curse at yourself. He tilted his head, confused and you cleared your throat, lifting yourself from the headboard to sit straighter, copying him as you crossed your legs underneath your body. “We um… should start with a peck. I mean… it’s like… uncharted territory. Kissing your best friend and all…”

He felt his body sweat as he thought of just grazing your lips and he knew you were being cautious. If it’s too weird for you, you’re going to back out, that’s why you are asking for this. Trial and error. He always wanted to kiss you, even imagined you in the most obscene of positions, but– you haven’t with him. You were still looking at your best friend, the twelve-year-old boy who threw a slug over your head.

“Yeah. Let’s try that.” He moved the script away as he scooted closer to you. You straightened up the moment his knees hit yours, both of you still cross legged, just like you two always sat when telling eachother stuff, or gossip. Your heart felt like it was about to burst, but you had to act as if this meant nothing. As if this didn’t phase every single cell of your body.

You licked your lips in anticipation as you rested your palms on top of your knees. His hands slowly pressed on top of yours as he looked at you over his glasses. Your eyes gazed at his lips momentarily and his eyes did the same with yours. Years of oblivious pining over one another, and you two didn’t know it, didn’t notice it, because you’re two idiots.

Belittling yourselves, thinking you two aren’t right for eachother, not good enough, or not even eachother’s types. You didn’t see what everyone else saw. How everyone bet behind your backs to see when you two would get together. When Steve would succumb and drop to one knee, or when you would simply profess your love for him.

Yes, two oblivious idiots.

He leaned in, squeezing your hands for you to do the exact same, as if reassuring you it was alright. You followed his pace, leaning forward to meet him in the middle. You closed your eyes but he didn’t, wanting to burn the image to memory. He wanted to remember your eyelashes, the moment they fluttered shut, your breath hitting his lips, and then finally, his lips clashing with yours.

He closed his eyes then, so he could focus on the kiss. You knew your heart stopped in this second, in this small yet eternal second. Or two. Maybe three. You felt as if you were being lifted off the ground, clouds gathering around you, and you felt lightweight. A cold sweat invaded his body, or was it warm? He didn’t know, he just felt as if water washed all over him.

He tried to calm down, knowing his blush would show if he didn’t. He pulled away from the kiss and opened his eyes again. You blinked a few times, zoned out, and you straightened up as you realized you were acting nervous, or, rather the opposite. You were happy, or floaty. You gulped as you cleared your throat, trying to sound normal, or as normal as one could.

“That… wasn’t as weird as I thought it might be.” And he was relieved to hear that, yet also disappointed by the fact you thought it would be weird at all. He didn’t know it was just you playing the part. You wanted to lick your lips to see if you could taste him even further, but you knew that was to come now.

“Yeah, it wasn’t.” His voice was lower than before, and there was a certain shift you felt in the air. Something that unconsciously was making your pulse go faster. He said it with… a certain tone that you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. He cleared his throat and tilted his head at you. “Ready to experience my amazing, expert, professional lips?”

You giggled, yes, out of nervousness, and trying to mask the fear, or the excitement. You shook your head as you looked at him.

“Oh please, we both know I kiss better.” You smirk proudly at him and he rolled his eyes at you.

“Eddie’s not the best to judge it.” You scoffed at that, squinting your eyes at him. You remember that night, Steve, you, Eddie, Robin, and Argyle drank in Robin’s room, and Eddie wanted to know who was the best kisser out of all of you. Robin didn’t indulge, but out of the three Eddie got to kiss, he said you were the best kisser. He said you were ‘tender’.

“You can’t keep saying that it’s because he likes women better than men, he is going out with Billy now, so my point still stands.” You sat there proudly, not noticing his fingers were slowly intertwining with yours over your knees. He huffed and then laughed, his head tilting to the side as his voice became low in a whisper, and he slowly leaned in.

“I’ll be the judge of that now Mouse.” It didn’t sound like your best friend talking just now. It sounded like a man talking to a girl he really wanted to kiss. Maybe your imagination is running a little too wild. You need to tell your hope to squash down just a tiny bit, or you will get hurt.

And now came the nerves. What if you overdid it now? What if you did it too roughly or too desperate? You have to calm down and let him lead. You will just follow, that’s all you have to do. You swallowed harshly, your eyes closing as his breath hit your lips, your hands tightening around his.

He could smell your perfume, and he was so nervous. He is nervous about being obvious, because, how does he stop the kiss from becoming real? How does he do it? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t. But he won’t stop even if a gun is pointed at his head right now.

His lips came in contact with yours once again, softly. You held in your breath as he exhaled when you kissed him back, your head pressing forward as well. His lips then smacked against yours as they moved once. You followed his movements, slow, and enticing, and you felt your body heat up instantly as your heart threatened to kill you at any second.

You were touching the stars and Steve was on the moon. He couldn’t believe he was kissing you, even if it was ‘fake’, he couldn’t believe it. You weren’t pulling away in disgust, and that for him is already a win. His lips started moving with more determination, kissing your bottom lip as you kissed his top lip.

The smacking of lips bounced on every wall in the room, and Steve felt the temperature rise inside of him. He could feel your fingers intertwining with his over your knees and all he wanted to do was to slide his hands upwards, slide them beneath the hem of your shorts, touch your skin, grip you, and mark you with his fingernails.

With every tilt of head you both did in between the kiss, your mind kept sending images of what you wanted to do to him. How you wanted to push him onto the bed and kiss his neck, his freckles, his biceps, the scar on his belly from the time he protected you against a cat that for some reason wanted to kill you. Then you wanted to take him into your mouth, show him how much you grew up. How much of a woman you are. How a woman like yourself could please a man like him.

But your imagination is cut off when you feel him pull away and you open your eyes to see him looking at you already. His pupils were dilated, and he hoped you wouldn’t see them because of his glasses, which were a bit foggy because your nose bumped into them everytime you turned your head to kiss him.

The tension was palpable around you two, and you wanted more, you needed more. Your breath was a bit quick, and you had to calm down before you gave yourself away. You straightened up once again, clearing your throat. His lips were plumped because of the kiss, and you wanted to kiss them again, but you just raised your eyebrows in question.

“Well?” You asked and Steve was kicked out of his daydreaming as your voice rushed through his ears. He chuckled nervously and nodded, biting his bottom lip in order to keep tasting you.

“Can’t believe Munson was right. You do kiss well.” You were about to give a triumphant ‘Ha’ but he stopped you by raising a hand towards you to shut you up with a smirk to his lips. “But I never kissed myself, so I don’t know if you are a better kisser than me.”

Your mouth fell open at that, but he was right. You huffed afterwards, and you looked down, seeing your fingers intertwined with his over your knees. You felt your blood rushing through your ears and wanted to keep going. Would you sound desperate if you proposed to keep practicing? Would it give you away?

You pulled your hands away from him and he felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Maybe he overdid it himself? Maybe you did get weirded out? Maybe it wasn’t something you enjoyed at all? Your hands grabbed the script again and he tilted his head, opening his mouth to ask what you were doing but you interrupted him first.

“Um… can we practice with the actual scene?” Oh, your words just sent him to heaven. You would sit on top of his lap. You would be kissing him and rubbing yourself against him– Oh fuck, you would rub yourself against him… or maybe you didn’t? But shit, he was already half hard from the stupid pecks on the lips and the innocent kissing, how is he going to be able to handle this?

And you didn’t have a hard-on to show it off, but you weren’t any less horny than he was. You knew that if you put the least bit of friction on the seam of your shorts and onto your clit, your wetness would sip through. He might notice, but maybe you just pretend to rub yourself? Maybe you just don’t press down?

He felt his veins pulsing, specifically the ones that coursed through his wrists. His fingertips were burning with the idea of being able to hold you the way he’d always wanted to do. His eyes traveled over your body until you looked up at him when you received no answer to your question. He gathered himself and nodded with a shrug.

“Sure…” He gulped as he threw the script to the floor and moved on the bed, his shirt riding up as he crawled and sat next to you. He pressed his back against the headboard and straightened his legs to lay flat on the bed. He patted his lap with an innocent smile on his lips which only made your heart stop. “Hop on.”

You pretended to be annoyed by him, rolling your eyes, pretending you weren’t about to pass out right then and there. You uncrossed your legs and moved to throw one knee over his lap, landing next to his hip. Your eyes connected with his as you hovered over him, not wanting to press down.

“Um… should I…–” Your words were small, not really knowing what to do with your posture. His hands hesitantly grabbed your hips and guided you to sit on his thighs, avoiding his crotch. He hissed inwardly when you brushed over it for a split second, cursing at himself for how sensitive he was right now.

“There. Tomorrow they will ask us to do crotch to crotch though. The camera angle will move from the hips, towards our profiles.” You could feel your face catch on fire at the mere thought of rubbing yourself against Steve. He smiled reassuringly at you, his hands moving to your waist. “It’ll be fine. I’m a professional, you know that.”

“That does nothing to calm my nerves.” You rolled your eyes and he squeezed you slightly as you adjusted yourself on his thighs. You cursed inwardly when the seam of your shorts rubbed on you by accident, right on your clit. “What if you pop a boner for me, huh?”

“And what if you get dripping wet for me Mouse? I can’t see it but it can happen.” His words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he felt himself combust. He felt as if he were on literal fire. Your eyes locked with his over his glasses and you didn’t know how to react to it. He was right, but– is this something normal best friends say to eachother? You broke the tension by clearing your throat.

“You are too sure of yourself.” You saw how his tongue darted out to lick his lips for a second and you took a deep breath in as he pointed to the floor next to the bed.

“It will move from here–” and he moved his hand, passing over the end of the bed, over your thighs, both of your hips and then up towards your profiles, his fingers wiggling on the side of your face, “– to here.”

“Got it… So…”

“Follow my lead, mouse.” You gulped the lump you were holding back as the butterflies in your stomach exploded, burst into flames, or they set an atomic bomb in there as he leaned close. His hands squeezed your hips as yours grabbed his shoulders. His nerves were a definite match with yours, completely out of control, berserk, but he was the professional here, he could pretend, even if it would leave a bad aftertaste.

His lips found yours again, making your breath hitch slightly, but you kissed back just like you have before. The seam on your shorts was pressing against you and now you really wondered if your wetness would sip through. What if it did and he felt it? You were far from his pelvic area, and you didn’t want to be obvious in looking down at it to check if he was as afflicted as you were.

Your lips moved together, your heart jumping in your chest while he was already bungee jumping off the empire state building. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, making him hum in the kiss and slowly pull away, making you open your eyes to look at what you had done wrong. He was smiling softly at you, his eyes darting to his right shoulder for a second.

“If you grab at me like that, your nervousness will show. Let your hands roam. Wrap your arms, or your hands can go through my hair.” He was being straightforward, but he was desperate for you to relax. He was desperate to feel as if this were real, to feel you close once and for all, to feel you against him and for your nails to rake into his hair.

You slowly nodded, trying not to feel your entire body burning at the prospect of messing your best friend’s hair with your fingers. You took a deep breath in as you stretched your fingers over his shoulders and gave him a nod. His eyes darted to your lips again before leaning back in, kissing you once more.

You let your hands rub his shoulders, and you thought that, if this had to be as natural as possible, then you should just kiss him the way you always wanted to. If it is too much, you can just play it out that this is how you normally kiss. Giving yourself one last push of encouragement, you moved your lips against him, your hands moving to the back of his neck and then up into his hair. You have played with Steve’s hair many times before, but never in this manner. You want to pull on it, you want to rub yourself on him, but you have to keep yourself in check before you give your true intentions away too easily.

Steve on the other hand, he was being way too cautious and you were driving him fucking insane. He doesn’t know how he is capable of holding himself back but he is trying, and finding himself slowly failing at each scratch you do on his head. It was more than he bargained for, and now he is paying the consequences of it. He could smell your perfume, taste the cherry flavored chapstick you were wearing, the feel of your bare thighs under his hands as he rubbed on them, slowly, pretending this is how he is going to move for the shot of the next day.

Was it okay for him to have some hope by the way you were kissing him? Was it okay for him to just fuck this game and kiss you for real? Was it okay for him to think you felt affected as he was? For a while? All this time?

So maybe he just needs to take this chance. If you pull away, he can pretend he is used to doing his kisses a bit harsher, or something, he can do it, but he needs you. He fucking needs to feel your tongue on his. He turned his head and poked your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Your body flinched but he felt your body roll slightly against him, sending him into a mess of nerves and excitement when you opened your mouth for him.

And when you felt his tongue going into your mouth to dance with yours, you knew you were gone. You are going to do what you always wanted to do, and for some reason, and it might be the temperature of the room or maybe his own body heat, but you think Steve might be feeling the same way you are doing right now. You could feel it in the way you have his hand running up towards your hips, the tips of his fingers going under the hem of your shirt, just a little bit.

So, you take the leap as well.

You wiggled a little closer to his crotch, pretending to move to sit more comfortably, and that’s when you felt him. He groaned into the kiss the moment you rubbed yourself, slightly, over him. You weren’t fully seated on him, but you knew he was hard and was that a sign that this was okay? That this was something you both wanted?

His tongue moved against yours, both of your heads turning as you kept kissing, rubbing, touching, not even noticing that minutes had passed, when the scene was only going to be ten seconds. Then, he suddenly pulled away, breathless, and you feared for the most until he spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Closer.” And you only nodded, his hands helping you move to fully sit on him, your chest against his, and you couldn’t even gasp that his lips were on yours again the moment his bulge came in full contact between your legs.

He was letting himself be guided by his lust and his love for you. He couldn’t let you go, not when you are giving him all the green lights there are. You could have questioned him just now, told him no, that it was too much, but you just nodded and followed with nothing to say. He hoped he wasn’t misunderstanding anything, but fuck, you were rubbing against him. You could fully feel his hard on and instead of shying away, or jumping up in disgust, you were rubbing yourself even more against him.

His hands travelled upwards, going underneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers touching your bare waist, sending shivers down your spine, the butterflies multiplying in your belly as the heat he radiates from his fingertips travels into your body. You could smell his cologne, the distinctive scent he’s been carrying for years now, one you detect the minute he crosses a door and into a room.

Your breaths are heavy against eachother as you keep kissing, desperately, eating one another like you’ve always wanted to do to one another. His glasses hit you every once in a while at each turn of head, and the more you sway your hips against him, the more you forget the fact that this was supposed to be practice. He wasn’t supposed to be into it the way he is, and maybe…

You slowly pull away from him, noses still touching, lips still brushing, breaths mingling with one another’s and you manage a small whisper towards him.

“Are we still practicing, Steve?” And that made him open his eyes to find yours. Their eyes, clouded with lust, desire, love, tenderness, and pent-up feelings, met. Feelings that can be talked and discussed later on. He pulled his head back and with a swift movement, you were now facing the ceiling as he got on top of you, settling between your legs. He ripped the glasses off his face and threw them god knows where as he planted his hands on each side of your body and leaned down, his eyes dark and determined, something you never thought would be directed your way.

“Like hell we are.” And you burst in happiness as his lips crashed with yours again. He could be just thinking of where to stick his dick in right now, but you’ll take it. This is being done rationally, sober, with complete consciousness. Your tongues met again, your hips clashed, and he began rutting into you, his bulge hitting your clit perfectly now at every thrust.

You let yourself moan into his mouth as your hands ran through his hair, your legs spreading even more for him to rut harder and he touched heaven the moment he heard your sweet voice react to him like that. You were accepting him, encouraging him and he couldn’t be more grateful to whatever god has heard him. He groaned into your mouth as a particular thrust sent a wave of heat all over his body, feeling himself twitch in his pants, and he knew his boxers were already stained with precum.

He wasn’t going to last, and if he keeps rutting himself into you, he is going to blow his load in three minutes or less. He has been waiting for this moment for far too long, just as much as you have. Your belly was already burning with his dry humping, and it was becoming harder to hold your noises back.

He moved to rest on his elbows so he could move his right hand downwards, underneath the hem of your shirt. You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt his fingertips grace your belly, and then went upwards, touching the soft cotton of your plain bra. You weren’t expecting anything today, and now you were wondering if he would think you are too common for him. Not extravagant enough. Yet all doubts were thrown out the window when he pulled away, his lips pressing to the side of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw, and his voice mumbled into the skin of your neck before he started kissing it.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck– Tell me you want this Mouse, that you wanted this as much as I have…” Your breathing was jagged as he started sucking, licking, kissing your neck. You gasped when he hit your pulse point and pressed his tongue on it, making you press your hips upwards and into him. He just confessed to you he wanted you. He has wanted you for a while from what you could decipher, but questions could come later.

“Yes– God, Stevie, yes–” No turning back now. The friendship was ruined, passed onto a better life. He hummed in delight into your skin, finally daring to move his hand to cup your breast. He couldn’t believe how dumb and blind he was. You wanted him. How did he not see it? Maybe he wasn’t the only actor between the two of you.

Your back arched against him as you felt him grope your breast, rub on it with his big hands. Hands you couldn’t stop staring at everytime he took notes down on his scripts or on his agenda. You had mentioned to him before his hands were ridiculously large, which only made him joke to you about how he never got any complaints about them. You have touched yourself to thoughts of those hands on you and now you get to live it.

He sucked onto your skin, ready to mark you up finally, make you his. You were not pushing him away from it, or denying him from doing so, so that was a great sign for him. Your mouth was open as one hand was still tangled in his hair, the other dragging your nails on his back. You were letting out small sounds, little huffs, but then you felt his fingers go underneath the elastic of your bra, finally cupping your breast completely bare. He moaned into your skin when he felt your nipple perk up against his palm, and he immediately got it in between his fingers and pinched.

You let out your first loud moan of the night and that made him thrust into you quite desperately. He was going to cum in his pants. He can’t have that. He pulled away from your neck, sitting up and ripping his hand away from you, making you pout slightly. He smirked at how fucked you looked already, and all thanks to him. He crossed his arms in front of him and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one movement, his hair now more disheveled than what your fingers had done to it.

You were flushed all over as you looked at him, his arms, his chest, his abdomen… his fucking chest hair. That chest hair that sprouted out of nowhere from one summer to the other and it completely made your hormones go a little crazy.

“Am I going to be the only one getting undressed here?” He asked as a joke, yet not entirely. It was one last chance for you to step out. For you to go back to what you two were minutes before. You licked your lips as you sat up, taking your shirt off in front of him and throwing it away just like he did. He was still kneeling up in between your legs, staring down at you as if you had hung the stars for him. And that you did.

“Don’t be a crybaby.” Your voice was teasing and small, showing how nervous you were. You couldn’t help it. Steve had other experiences now, and you wondered if you could really compare at all. He gulped as his eyes ran over your chest, and he has seen you in your bra before. But those times cannot compare to what this means right now, because that bra will be taken off in, what he hopes, a few seconds.

He ran a hand through his hair as your hands ran over his chest, inspecting him, experiencing him. He moved his free hand to hold your cheek and make you look up at him. Your eyes were glossed over and he couldn’t stop himself that he was already leaning to take your lips with his as his other hand went to your back and touched the clasp of your bra, which made you jump slightly. He immediately pulled away, looking at you, his nose still bumping into yours.

“You okay?” How do you explain that you jumped because of your excitement and happiness? Of how sensitive you were because all your senses were heightened up because of him. How do you not sound in love?

“Yeah, just got surprised, that’s all…” You gave him a peck of reassurance and he hummed into your lips, his hand moving to the clasp of your bra once again and in one swift movement of fingers, it snapped open. A pang of jealousy and anger hit you for just a few seconds until he pulled away from you, his hands grabbing both straps of your bra, his eyes glued to your breasts as he sat back, taking your bra with him.

And, well, Steve is staring. His breathing ragged as you saw how he dropped the bra on the bed, his eyes going left and right, not knowing in which one to focus on. He never saw your bare breasts before and now that he does–

“They’re so fucking perfect Mouse… You’re so perfect for me, jesus christ–” You couldn’t even process his words that he was making you lay back on the bed again, his body over yours and his mouth came in contact with your collarbone as his left hand held the back of your neck and the other your waist.

You sighed in pleasure when his kisses started moving downwards towards your chest, then moving to the right. The left hand moved from the back of your neck to rest on your right breast, nipple immediately fitting between his fingers. You were about to arch your back at the feeling, only for another sensation to override it. His lips on your left nipple.

“Steve–” You gasped as your back arched towards him, your hands flying to his head, running your fingers through his hair to pull him even more into you. He loved his name on your mouth like this… And he wanted to hear you scream it. Cry it. Breaking through your vocal cords as he made you come undone.

His lips moved on your right nipple, sucking on it as he pinched the left one. He looked upwards to see you, his hair blocking his view a bit, but he saw how your head was thrown back on the pillow, mouth open as little breaths left it. He hummed into your breast and then he got the nipple between his teeth, and softly pulled on it, inflicting a bit on pain on you to taste the waters and–

This moan was your loudest yet.

“Oh, you didn’t lie when you said you might be a masochist.” And he remembers that conversation. A drunken night where he almost kissed you. You two talked about your sex lives but never in detail, that is, until you asked him if you were a masochist because you liked being spanked and choked, to which his response was, ‘yes’. Since that night, he had very graphic dreams that had you as their protagonist. The dreams were sweet and domestic before, and then, after that… they were pure filth.

“You remember that?” You ask breathlessly, smiling a bit as you feel him nod as he sucks on your right nipple. “I was embarrassed after saying that… my drunk brain thought it would catch your attention and blurted it out…”

“It did more than catch my fucking attention.” And with that confession, he rubbed his hips against you once more, proving his point as you felt his hard bulge still intact, if not, harder than before. You moaned as he tugged on your nipple one last time before changing places, giving the same attention to the left one as his hand kept grabbing your breast there.

“Oh, does it mean you’ve been having some dirty thoughts about me, Stevie?”

“Thoughts?” He chuckled against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he pulled away to look at you after giving a bite to the round of your breast. “Try dreams. Lots of them.”

The confessions kept pouring out, realizing this was more than just attraction. Both of you now know this goes beyond physical. Beyond wanting to try it out with your best friend. Beyond trying a new experience.

“What did I do in those dreams?” And you saw his face flush, leaving him speechless finally as you looked up at him. You bit your bottom lip as you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him to the side, rolling on top of him as soon as his back hit the bed. Your legs now straddled him, hips pressing against him, provoking a groan out of his lips.

“You were like this in one of those, certainly.” Your ears couldn’t be happier to hear that. You couldn’t contain the smile that spread on your lips as you imagined Steve waking up sweaty to a fantasy he dreamt where you were the main lead.

“Hmm…” And your eyes went down, looking at his belt. You gave yourself a mental pat on the shoulder for encouragement as you decided you wanted to engrave yourself into his memory. “What about this?”

His eyebrows met in the middle as you moved from his pelvic area to rest on his thighs. Only then his eyes widened, when your fingers unbuckled his belt, then undid the button of his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He twitched only by the grace of your fingers over the expanse of his bulge. Oh, fuck.

You were biting your bottom lip with need as your fingers hooked in the hem of his pants and boxers. You were going to do it. You were going to cross the line. A line you were terrified of since the moment you discovered you felt physically attracted to him. One thing is to be only feeling something emotional over someone, but once you start having physical attraction to them, you know a line is suddenly drawn between the two of you.

His breathing hitched in his throat as you started pulling his clothes down. He raises his hips up in order to help you, the nerves flying all over his body, a bit of self consciousness running through his veins as he looks at the ceiling, wondering if you would think it’s weird, or too much, or too little. He never received any complaints but, who knows? This was you. He had to be perfect for you.

But he couldn’t be more wrong. The moment he came out from his boxers, his shaft slapping on his belly as it bounced out, and your mouth fell open. You– You knew Steve could be big. You’ve ogled him, multiple times. In his gym shorts, in his swimming trunks, in his underwear whenever he was getting ready in front of you, and you caught sight of it having a little hard on just very few times. Your imagination gave it no justice.

“What the hell Steve…”

“What– What’s wrong?” His eyes found your face which was locked on his cock, and worry filled his brain as he thought you were looking at him in disgust or something. But, actually, your mouth was salivating. You were put in automatic pilot as you shuffled downwards, your thighs now straddling his shins.

Your hands rubbed on his inner thighs, making him choke on his breath, and you saw how his shaft twitched at your touch. You clenched around nothing as you anticipated how he would sound with your lips wrapped around him. Fantasies of him moaning your name as you showed him just how much you wanted him, now, about to become a reality.

Your upper body bent down, his eyes widening when he saw you let a blob of spit fall from your lips and onto the tip of his cock. He saw how it dribbled down his shaft and before he could stop you, your hand wrapped around him. He sighed instantly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he gripped the sheets beneath him. Fuck– Fuck, how can he stop you now?

“You’re so big…” Your voice was sultry, low, filled with pure lust and he noticed it. You were talking to his dick, not him. All his worry about how it looked was thrown out the window, but when you started moving your hand up and down on him, slowly, another worry filled him, and that was that he was going to cum in just a few strokes if he didn't concentrate.

“Baby–” He called out your name, but then he felt your thumb press onto the tip and then pass it on his frenulum which sent a jolt of electricity all over his body. “– Oh god.”

You were relishing in his sounds. You looked up to see his head thrown back, the veins and freckles on his neck being the stars of the show for you. He looked so good right now and you were flushing all over just by giving him pleasure. You looked back down, and your body went downwards just a little bit more, and you lolled your tongue out. A growl was torn out of him as you licked his tip, slotting it right into his slit before kissing it.

You were sucking him off. You were going to suck him off and oh my god, he is going to die. Or he is already dead and gone to heaven. He sighed in delight as he felt your mouth engulf the head of his cock. Your pretty cherry-flavored lips that will now have his taste, smearing your spit all over him. You hummed in delight as you went further and he had to grip onto the sheets as he closed his eyes, taking his mind far away so he wouldn’t blow his load right now.

You could hear his grunts, how he was holding himself back as your left hand was on his hip for leverage while the right one helped you engulf the places your mouth couldn’t reach. You let your mouth salivate around him as you started bobbing your head up and down, slowly, slightly twirling your head from side to side, while your right hand jerked him up everytime your mouth went up.

“Oh– Fuck–” He drapped an arm over his eyes as his back arched a little bit off the bed at a specific tongue press along the shaft. You want more of that, you want more of Steve breaking underneath you, so you quicken your movements, just a little bit. His breathing turned heavy and you looked up to see his chest heaving, and you knew he was holding himself back from making noises.

You pulled away with a soft pop, making him take his arm away from his eyes and raise his head to be able to look at you as you kept slowly jerking him off. His cock was right next to your lips as you stared at him.

“Don’t hold your voice back Stevie…” His eyes rolled to the back of his head when you used his nickname in a situation like this. Goddamn, you had him wrapped around your finger. He shook his head as he sighed, his belly flipping at how your thumb slotted itself in the slit of the head of his shaft.

“It’s not that– It’s– I’m not going to last if you keep sucking me off, and to be honest? I want to fuck you stupid, Mouse.” Your mouth fell open at that, suddenly flushed all over at his dirty words, at the dirty talk you never thought would be directed your way. It made him smirk, and an idea popped up in his head. “– But… I do want to taste you as well.”

You tilted your head as he slowly moved his hands to grab your hand and one touched your cheek. He nodded upwards for you to pull away from him.

“What–”

“Turn around. Shorts and panties off.” You felt your heart in your throat as you gulped, his eyes dark, never leaving your figure as you climbed off the bed in order for you to do as he commanded. As you did that, he took the opportunity to take the rest of his pants and boxers off, throwing them to the side. You bit your lip as you pulled the button in your shorts open and then pulled the zipper down.

You would be completely naked to him right now. You two would finally cross the line, completely. He would see you in all your glory just as how you just sucked his. You had to stop overthinking this. You had to. He wants you. You want him. And you could see how he was biting his bottom lip, how he was expecting this, how desperate he was to see you naked for the very first time.

So, defeating your nerves, you slowly pushed your shorts and panties down, not wanting to show the bland cotton panties to him, but you made a show of sticking your ass out a bit as you swayed your hips to take off your clothes. His head rolled back as he let out a groan, and you saw how his dick twitched at the sight of you and you wanted to smile at the small win.

You were naked. He was naked. You were both naked. You couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment with both your hands. It was still Steve. Steve who came to your house to play in the tree house in your garden. Steve who climbed into your room whenever his mom and dad fought and he wanted to get away. Steve who helped you get your first part time job with him at Scoops where you two met Robin.

And it was the man you have loved for the past years.

“Hey– We don’t have to–” He was looking at you worriedly, feeling as if you had realized what was about to happen but you cut him off by jumping towards him, getting on top of him and kissing him on the lips to steal his breath away.

“I’m just nervous…” You confessed and he smiled at you, caressing your cheek as he nodded, completely agreeing with you.

“Me too… and if it’s too much–” And you shook your head at him, biting your bottom lip as you kneeled up, towering all over him. His heart picked up a pace once again as he saw how you turned around, your ass in full view for him and he couldn’t help but sigh dreamily. “God… I want a picture…”

“Steve!” You giggled as you looked down at his length, still hard and waiting, despite the sudden interruption the two of you just had. You took a sharp breath in so you could gather up the courage and you started moving backwards, Steve’s abdomen starting to show the more you moved.

“Can you blame me?” He was already becoming pussy drunk the more your center came closer to him. His hands rubbed the back of your thighs, and then he smacked your right cheek with his hand, making you jolt and gasp, your pussy clenching around nothing. He smirked at the reaction, his hands grabbing onto your hips as you looked down at his red tip, begging for attention, twitching for it.

“S-Stevie…” He groaned, looking up at your glistening folds. Something he has dreamed of doing so many times. He couldn’t wait for you, to taste you, to finally make you scream. He needed to hear you. He needed to let you know just how good he can worship you, and how good he can make you feel.

“Lower on me, baby, I can take it. I can take whatever you give me.” His words came from his heart because he didn’t even process them. Not that they weren’t any less true. You felt his hands gripping your hips, pressing on you so you would finally move down towards him. You took a deep breath in, and you moved your hips downwards, your hands gripping his thighs in anticipation.

Steve could smell you and it was delightful. He is going to become addicted to you. He already was, but this would seal the entire deal. He couldn’t wait anymore, and his head left the pillow, raising up so he could dart his tongue out and finally lick in between your folds, taking a gush of your slick with him. You shivered on top of him, letting out a sigh out of your pretty lips and his eyes closed as he tasted you.

You were sweet, everything he needed and desired in one simple lick. You were the most delicious and addicting thing he has ever tasted. More than nicotine, alcohol, candy itself. You were perfect. You gasped, your nails digging into the skin of his thighs as you felt him lick at you, slurping your slickness away.

“So delicious… please…” He was begging for you to lower down, and after having a bit of what he could offer, your body lowered, his head laying back down on the pillow as your cunt slotted over his mouth. He smirked right before he darted his tongue out to rub it against your clit and then your folds. Your back was arched as you leaned down, moaning as you felt him all over, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body.

He groaned into your folds as your hand wrapped around him again, pumping him for a few seconds before he felt your hot mouth all over the head. You could feel the vibrations of his noises when you started taking him in your mouth, and then moving up and back down. It was making you feel so good. He was making you feel so fucking good. Your Stevie.

You moaned into his cock when he slapped your thigh, the sound echoing throughout the room and he sighed as he felt your moan vibrate all over. He kept licking you away, slurping on your clit thanks to how you were arching your back against him. You were giving him great access to that sensitive button of yours and he was having the time of his life tugging at it, making you cry out a few times as he felt your body tremble on top of him.

He jerked his hips upwards when you went a little further with your mouth, taking him even more. He was surprised and he stopped lapping at your center for just a second, trying to gather up his thoughts once again. You gagged, pulling up from him slightly, but continuing to suck him off. He had to distract you. He had to make you stop because if you didn’t he was going to finish. It’s been an ongoing battle with himself all night, and he was not going to give up now.

He decided to hold your ass cheeks, spreading them and then he entered his tongue inside of you. You pulled away from him with a gasp, the side of your face falling to a rest on his left thigh as you kept pumping him right in front of you, your chest against his abdomen.

“S–Steve–!” You couldn’t believe how thick his tongue was. Everything was overwhelming you, and you couldn’t keep your mouth on him because you just needed to moan. Your hand was still jerking him off and even if he was delighting himself with his tongue inside of you, he had to keep distracting you.

He moved one of his hands, elbow bent between your legs and bicep against his chest in order to aim properly into your core. He pulled his mouth away from you, letting you catch your breath, only for then to be completely washed over by a gasp when you felt two of his fingers sliding over your folds, gathering up your slick in order to lube them up. Those fingers you always fantasized with. Fingers you pretended you were fucking instead of your own.

“Pretty. My pretty girl.” His praises were coming out of his mouth nonstop. Your mouth fell open and your hand stopped moving on his cock as you felt him invade your cunt with two of his fingers. His index and middle finger, in the position of a finger gun. This will give him better access to that special spot of yours, considering the position you two were in, but fuck, his dick twitched in your frozen hand when he felt just how warm you were inside. He felt it with his tongue, but with his fingers, it felt like something else entirely.

He wanted to give you the utmost pleasure, and he knew he was succeeding by how still you stayed on top of him, cunt a few inches away from his face, seeing his fingers start to slowly pump in and out of you. He could hear the squelching, oh fuck. Maybe he is just going to cum like this. He might cum just by fingering you and listening to your sweet little moans and sighs.

You were drooling on his thigh, and you didn’t have the power to care. You were feeling good as he changed the pace and started literally fucking his fingers into you, making you choke on your own moans. You couldn’t even move your hand on him, too distracted as he kept moving his fingers in and out of you, and when you tried to move your hand, you felt him press his ring finger against your clit, rubbing it back and forth as he finger fucked you.

“Oh Stevie–” You couldn’t help the moans you were letting out, pornographic, and it was everything Steve ever wanted. For you to moan his name this way. For you to come undone under his touch.

“You feel good, baby?” You nod against his thigh, as your eyes remain closed, your hips starting to slowly sway against his thrusts. “Oh fuck, yeah, move against me, that’s it–”

He couldn’t help talking to you. He wasn’t very talkative when having sex, but you? You were bringing a new whole side of him. He wanted to know if you were feeling good, wanted to make you do things to feel even better, and most of all, praise you. Worship you.

You raised yourself from his thigh, holding yourself up against it with your left hand, shaking on top of him as you felt him move his wrist slightly, hitting your G-spot even if slightly, but enough to make you cry loudly. Your right hand tightened around him, making him groan but he didn’t feel the intense burning in his belly any longer. It was there, but not as threatening.

He smirked as he flutter around his fingers, knowing you were coming close as you kept fucking yourself on his fingers. Your belly was burning, tightening, your walls starting to clench as you decided to finally let go of his dick, slamming your hand on his right thigh, and now you were just riding his fingers.

You looked so fucking perfect right now, and he couldn’t wait as he felt you clench even tighter around his fingers, feeling your clit throb underneath the length of his ring finger.

“I’m– Shit, Steve, please, I’m gonna cum– You’re gonna make me cum–” Your head dropped as you felt your belly starting to turn into itself and he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine, only for them to start rubbing against your clit, making you clench around nothing at all.

“Cum on my tongue. Come on. I want it–” And you felt his tongue immediately dive into your folds, swirling inside of you as his fingers kept working magic against your sensitive clit. Your breaths were coming out in short little gasps as you felt tears building up your water lines in anticipation and lust. You felt yourself wanting to separate from him but he held you close with his other hand, not letting you move an inch away from him.

“Fuckfuckfuck– Steve!” Your nails dug into his thighs as you finally felt yourself tighten all around his tongue, your hips swaying desperately against him, not even considering you might suffocate him, but he wasn’t. He was actually in heaven as he kept drinking you, rubbing your clit in order to help you ride your orgasm out. Your cries were of his name, moans he never thought would be as high pitched as that, and you just felt hot all over.

He has to make sure he didn’t cum just now.

You twitched on top of him as you felt yourself start to untense, unclench, and your nails let go of his thighs. You felt him still swirling his tongue and sucking on your folds, eliciting a small wince as you pulled your hips up. You gulped as you breathed heavily, scooching away from his face, his hands leaving you completely. Your knees were wobbly against the mattress as you pulled your leg over his legs in order to turn around and face him.

He was breathing heavily, your slick all over his mouth and jaw, even down his neck, mixed with his saliva. You covered your mouth as you looked at the view before you. He looked utterly fucked just by eating you out. A sense of pride surged inside of you but you still bit your lip as you crawled close to him, looking down at his face.

“Steve…?”

“Holy shit…” He was all dopey smiling up at you. “I’ve wanted to do that since… forever.”

“Oh?” You smiled as your arms felt like complete gelatin as you kept your body up. You looked down to look at his cock, seeing how hard it still was, biting your bottom lip to look at him. “Um… you… want me to help you?”

He raised his eyebrows at you and lifted his head to look down and thankfully, gladly, he didn’t cum. He smirked, wiping his mouth away with a bit of the bedsheet as he turned to look at you once again.

“No.” Your eyes shot up in surprise and you were about to talk as he rolled on top of you, his hands on either side of your face, his pupils completely dilated as he stared down at you. “I want to fuck you, if that’s fine by you.”

You couldn’t nod quicker even if you wished. Your heart was gone already, you didn’t even know if you still had a beat or if it exploded and somehow blood was still pumping, but, sex. You were going to finally have sex with Steve. He licked his lips as he reached over for his night stand and opened his drawer to take out a condom foil. He inspected it, his eyes squinting slightly, making you frown.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking the expiration date.” Your eyes shot up in surprise at his words. Why would he need to check that?

“I… Huh?” He chuckles as he rips the foil open with his teeth, making you stupidly clench like a bitch in heat.

“I don’t exactly bring many women. This is my house and… it’s where most of you are… I didn’t want to taint it. I didn’t want anyone else but you in here for this… kind of thing.” He chuckled nervously as he rolled the condom on himself, and you were just staring at him. He has been waiting for you, all this time. He wanted you all this time. He saved this place for you, even if you two were never doing this. Even if you two were just friends like an hour ago.

“Steve…” He looked at you and connected his eyes with yours, a feeling of warmth invading the both of you, and you two knew this was right. This was meant to happen at one point or the other, you just were too blind or stupid to realize this. Your arms wrapped around his arms as he leaned down to take your lips in his. You could taste yourself in his mouth, and you couldn’t believe that it actually was turning you on.

Your legs spread even more for him to slot easily between them, his hard cock rubbing against you, making the both of you groan into the kiss. Your tongue danced with his as you two danced around that line that is now a spider’s thread of silk. He moaned into the kiss as he kept kissing you, but he needed to be honest with you, in order to not disappoint, so he pulled away, his breaths heavy against your lips.

“I gotta tell you, I’m not gonna last… I waited too long for this and I’ve been holding back from cumming the past thirty minutes and–” You giggled and pecked his lips with reassurance as you nodded at him.

“Don’t worry… We can go again later…” That gave him all the encouragement he needed, which he really didn’t anymore than what he already had, to grab his shaft in order to guide it to your entrance. He gave you one last look and you could feel the joy. The same joy that resides in your chest, a joy that makes you want to almost cry, but it got interrupted as his hips started pushing in. Your mouth fell open into an ‘o’ shape as you felt him stretch you out, inch by inch, and– fuck, his fingers did their best but there’s no comparison at all.

He groaned loudly as you engulfed him in your heat, slowly, and all he wanted was to slam into you, go crazy with it, but he had to be patient. He wanted it perfect. Everything has been going perfect till now, and it shouldn’t stop. It should never stop for you. Nor with you.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good, you feel so fucking good for me, Mousy.” His head fell to the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent, your perfume, and he placed a kiss onto your skin. And his hips were not stopping, already going halfway in but you already felt full. You couldn’t believe you could keep taking him but maybe you were just made for him.

“B-Big– It’s so fucking big, Steve, what the fuck…” You couldn’t help the curse that came out of your mouth, a breathy chuckle vibrating in your neck thanks to him.

“I’m sorry– Do I–”

“No, don’t stop, I’ll kill you…” And you would, and he nodded. He took a sharp intake of breath as he tensed for a second before he dove his hips all the way in, making you gasp as his pelvis finally slammed against yours. He bottomed out and you felt him in your throat. Your nails were digging into his shoulders as you tried to adjust to him. It wasn’t painful at all, it just felt like too much, and you felt yourself pulsing around him, trying to get used to it. He pulled away from your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up on your jaw, to then move to your left cheek.

“Are you okay?” His voice was a whisper, concerned and you wanted to cry by how attentive he was over his own pleasure. You smiled even if he wasn’t seeing it and you nodded. “Tell me when I can start moving, alright?”

And you wanted to be brave and say right now, but you actually waited for a minute, and in that minute you knew this wasn’t a one time thing. A ‘satisfy your curiosity’ kind of thing. Because Steve was peppering your whole face and neck in kisses, soft little pet names leaving his mouth for you.

‘My baby. My sweetheart. Darling. My sweet. Honey. My love.’

And the last one was the one that caught you by surprise. It seems he noticed what he had done because the moment you opened your mouth, he started to move. A moan left your lips as he started thrusting slowly in and out of you, halfway out, and then in. It was slow tempo, yet deep, but not rough.

“Stevie–” You were letting out pretty sighs as you closed your eyes in pleasure, feeling him rub against your walls with each thrust. He cradled your head in his arms, looking down at your face, his hair falling over his eyes as the sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Perfect. Can I go faster?” It was a plea, a beg, the lust for you inside of him igniting once again, and with your nod, his hips started rolling quicker, a little further than before, making you moan louder, your head tilting back on the pillow, your neck being exposed to him, to which he immediately attacked with his lips.

He started listening to the slamming of his hips against yours as he sucked on the skin of your pulse point, listening to your moans and his dick was twitching nonstop. He couldn’t believe he was having you like this, that you were letting him have you like this at all. His sweet mouse. His sweet, perfect girl.

It was paradise. He was in paradise. You were in heaven. You two felt like everything made sense for the first time in your lives. Why didn’t you do this before? Why were the two of you so scared? Those are questions you two can ask eachother later because right now all you want is to finally let Steve rail into you the way he’s always wanted to.

And to do that, he had to pull away and kneel up, his arms leaving your head so his hands could grab the back of your knees. He looked down at you for just one second as his chest heaved up and down. Your eyes were filled with tears, your gaze finding his and as you opened your mouth to call for him, his hips started snapping into yours, the bedframe hitting the wall at each thrust of his.

You moaned loudly as your right hand shot upwards, holding onto the headboard, while your left one was in a tight fist in the pillow below your head. He was moaning your name as he saw your entire body bounce against his thrusts, and he could hear how wet you were as well. He growled as he felt his belly burn instantly at it, and he wanted to last longer, to have you in more positions, to make this night unforgettable, but he had a feeling that you would not care. It would be memorable no matter what he did or happened.

“Steve, you feel so good–” Your words were like sirens singing in his ear. You were making this very difficult on him as he started rolling his hips in long and deep thrusts, making you gasp and breathe out everytime the tip of his cock hit the deepest part of you, brushing against your g-spot perfectly. Your eyes were wide, looking at the ceiling thanks to how intense he was being and how much you were loving it.

“Yeah? Tell me how much you love it, baby, I want to hear it–” He didn’t know where all this dirty talking really came from. He was still surprised by this.

“I love it– I love it so much– I love you– I love you!” His eyebrows met in the middle as his mouth fell open, and he was done for. He fell forward as his heart exploded inside of his chest, and he knew you were cockdrunk and it came out of your mouth unwillingly, but the feeling was there and he knew it.

You couldn’t believe you said it. You couldn’t believe what you just did but you just let yourself go and this happened. He fell forward, his hands caging your head between them as his hair tickled your forehead, his lips brushing over yours as he kept panting into your mouth, his hips unrelenting in their pace.

“I love you… Fuck, I love you too Mouse, so fucking much, you have no idea–” He kissed you, and you felt your stomach flip, your heart set aflame. “For so long, even before the auditions–” Another kiss and his hips became desperate, not letting you reply to him at all as your breaths were being knocked out of you, thrust after thrust. “-- You’re mine, you’ve always been mine.”

Your arms wrapped around him again, your walls clenching around his length making him moan your name as he got his hand in between the two of you. His lips smashed against yours as his fingers came in contact with your puffed up clit. Your eyes widened when you felt overwhelmed with sensations, your belly coiling at feeling him brush your g-spot at the same time he rubbed your clit.

“Please, please– Stevie, you are so good–” Your praises fell on his lips and he had to hold on for a bit longer, just a bit longer. He could feel you fluttering all around him so he needed to make you cum around him. He needed to feel you. He was begrudgingly going to admit defeat on not making you cum again, but now, now it was a need. Now it’s a must. After your confession, it’s the least he can give you for having the courage he didn’t have.

“C’mon, one more… One more and I’ll cum…” You knew the climax was going to hit you sooner or later, but the fact Steve was feeling as good as you were feeling was just, making you go a little feral.

“Okay– Okay, pleasepleaseplease–” He didn’t know you were this vocal in bed, but he hoped it was because of him, and he was. You two were vocal and just with eachother. A detail you will learn later on. You felt him rub your clit a little faster than before and you threw your head back on the pillow as you dug your nails into his hair. He moaned as he looked between your bodies, seeing himself disappear inside of you as his fingers played with your soaked button.

He felt you flutter around him and fuck, he was going to cum. He can’t hold it in anymore but he can’t change the pace of anything. He can’t. He needs to feel you around him before he gets to cum. He wants to do it at the same time you do. He wants this with you. This memory. Your eyes widen when you feel your belly burning and your back arched towards him, your walls clenching around his cock.

“I feel you. I can feel you baby, come on… Come on–” And without further encouragement, you clenched tightly around him like a vice, which knocked the breath out of him, his hips stuttering as you came all around him, his name coming out of your lips in a cry of pleasure. He looked at your contorted face for a few seconds before his hips finally stopped and twitched when he came into the condom. You were still gripping him tightly, milking every single spurt of cum he had to give. He gave a few thrusts for good measure to help you ride your orgasm out, until his fingers stopped rubbing your clit.

His head fell, forehead hitting your chest as he breathed heavily, wincing as you slowly started to unclench around him, coming down from your high. He took his hand away from your sensitive nub, and he felt your heartbeat against his head. It was so quick. He is scared your heart will burst at any second.

You on the other hand, you were so exhilarated. You could die right now and you would go happily. Death could take you and you would tell it sure why not. A smile displayed on your face as your tight grip on his head softened, slowly starting to rub circles on his scalp with your fingers, which he responded with a satisfied hum. You were breathing heavily, and he was holding most of his weight up with his hands and knees, but you still felt him all over you.

He gulped as he raised his head from your chest, smiling at you as you connected your eyes with his. He kissed your chest once, then moved up and kissed your collarbone, then your neck, which was all marked up by him, then your jaw, and finally he pecked your lips.

“Hi Mouse.” You give him a content huff, panting into each other's lips.

“Hi, Stevie…” He smiled at you, clearing his throat as he felt his cock soften slowly, moving his hips to pull out from you, eliciting a groan out of the two of you. “Fuck…”

“You can say that again…” Your hands were still in his hair and he chuckled, pecking your lips softly. His heart couldn’t pump more blood than it was right now even if it could, but he had to ask. “Did you mean that?” “What?” He gulped and continued with his question.

“That you love me…” You blinked a few times and you bit your bottom lip as the nerves returned like a bulldozer.

“I… Yeah… for a long time… Did you mean it?” Steve smiled widely, his lips coming in contact to every inch of your face, making you giggle because it tickled in some places, and your heart never felt more warm than it was now.

“Absolutely… fuck, baby, I– How could I not want you? You’ve… been with me even when I was a loser.” You rolled your eyes at him and giggled, shaking your head.

“You were prom king!”

“And a loser! I was an ass! And had no dreams! Well, except one.” Your eyebrow raised in question, wondering what he meant.

“What was that?”

“You. You were.” You felt your eyes fill with tears as the emotions overwhelmed you, realizing the two of you could have had this for so long, and neither of you acted on it. Made something happen, and it only prompted the both of you to waste time.

“You were mine… You are mine, Stevie.” A fond smile spreads on his lips as he leans down and kisses you softly, warmly, with the intent of a forever. And he keeps kissing you. He keeps giving you sweet words, until it's time for the two of you to clean up. The moment he gets up from the bed and you wobble to take a look at him, you gasp, your hands covering your mouth.

“What!? What is it!?” His eyes were worried as he looked at you, and you pointed at his body.

“I– Oh, did I fuck it up!?”

“Huh?” He tilted his head at your question, only for him to look down at himself and for his eyes to widen. “Oh… fuck.”

Your fingernails had scratched him all over. His shoulders, his neck, his back, his arms, his fucking thighs. He’ll get killed, or his scene will be postponed till these go away, though, he doesn’t know if he just wouldn’t forbid you from making more.

But the next day, when the director saw the scratches on his body and the hickies on your neck, he thought it was natural looking. That the makeup artist did an amazing job on the two of you, and the director didn’t even know you two didn’t even go to the person in charge of that. You rolled out of bed because you were running late and you rushed to the studio.

You were happy to be here with him. That it took a practice kissing lesson to be able to be with him. You were nervous, but at least not in the way you were yesterday afternoon. Not in the way of kissing him and him thinking you were disgusting, or deciding it was a bad idea to ask you for this. You were nervous because of his career, because of how this could be seen by his fans, but– You cannot give him up now. Not after all these years of missing out.

He wasn’t going to give up on this either. The moment the movie comes out, the moment this debuts, he will go on the carpet of his premiere with you by his side. He will tell everyone that the woman he kisses for ten seconds at the beginning of the movie is his best friend and the love of his life. He will show you off. He wants everyone to know who was there with him from the very beginning and through every instance of his life, even since he was a kid.

“ACTION!”

And the scene was done in one take, the director praising you both with a–

‘Good job you two! It felt natural!’

end

a/n: i want to be fingerbanged by steve harrington

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mylovesstuffs · 28 days ago

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OT13 reacting to their s/o giving birth

Request: Hello!! Can I request a Seventeen OT13 fluff/crack/comfort reaction to reader giving birth? Like for each member the member and reader react differently? Like reader having a hard time with wonwoo’s child because of his wide shoulders, Vernon being unfazed as usual as his wife screams at him, reader having no tolerance for pain and is panicking so Mingyu panics too, etc

A/N: I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting, anon. This took much longer than I expected. I actually finished writing it yesterday, but my draft got deleted, and I was so frustrated that I nearly cried. I had been working on this for a week while juggling other writing projects and a busy, stressful schedule. Instead of breaking down and giving up, I sat down and rewrote everything from memory. Since it was my second time writing it, I at least had a clearer idea of what I wanted to do. I knew that if I didn’t finish it now, it would end up delayed for another week or more, and I didn’t want that. Also, I pushed other queued requests back to finally get this one out since it should've been out earlier but I wasn't done with it. I really hope I did justice to your request! Thank you for your patience 💓

Seungcheol: To me it feels like his leader instincts kicking in like it’s a group comeback 😭 You’re physically drained and can barely push anymore, so Seungcheol will be holding your hand tightly, his voice steadying you: “Just one more, baby, you’ve got this. We’ll meet our little one soon.” On the inside, he’s panicking but doesn’t let it show because he knows you need his strength, "Breathe, babe, breathe!” Wait, should I breathe too?! Once the baby is born, he’s in tears, holding your hand like, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” and kissing your forehead. Then proceeds to take the title of Best Dad very seriously.

Jeonghan: “This is YOUR fault!” you scream at him as another wave of pain hits, and Jeonghan, instead of being offended, just grins cheekily, “I know, I know. But look at me—I’m right here. You’re doing amazing.” He is unfazed and mischievous, even while you're snapping at him but don't get me wrong. He's like, "It’s okay, just a little more!” while secretly panicking and muttering, How does one raise a tiny human? He just doesn't want to look panicked in front of you and scare you. When the baby arrives, he jokes, “Wow, this kid’s already prettier than me. Must’ve gotten it from me.” Yes, he's like that—but in a moment of seriousness, he looks at you with so much love, “You were incredible.”

Joshua: You’re crying softly, scared and overwhelmed, and Joshua immediately cups your face gently, “I know it’s hard, but you’re so strong. You can do this. I’ll be here the whole time.” He's very soft and attentive, the perfect mix of calm and emotional. He never leaves your side, murmuring prayers under his breath. Holds your hand and whispers comforting words the whole time, “You’re amazing, you’ve got this.” When the baby cries for the first time, he literally cries too, “This is the best day of my life.” He lets out a laugh of pure relief and joy as his face says, This is our miracle. He insists on singing the baby a lullaby immediately. Sunday morning rain is falling in form of lullaby

Jun: Wait, I think I need to sit down—oh no, wait, you’re the one doing all the work! Chaotic but sweet, Jun is trying his best to be strong for you, but his emotions are all over the place. You’re gripping his hand tightly, shaking your head, “I can’t do it, Jun. I really can’t!” his heart clenches at your words but he then immediately leans in, his eyes wide but sincere, “You’re already doing it. Look at me. One more push, and we’ll meet our baby.” The sheer trust and love in his gaze give you the last bit of strength you need. After the birth, he’s SO emotional, holding them like the most delicate thing in the world in complete awe with wide eyes, “Wow… they’re so small. Are you sure they’re ours?” He traces a careful finger along the baby’s tiny hand, his eyes softening even more. “They’re perfect… just like you.” His lips press a lingering, grateful kiss to your forehead before pulling back, his eyes shimmering. “I love you. Both of you.”

Hoshi: He's excited and maybe a little too energetic. Freaks out every time you make a noise, “IS IT TIME?!” even if you’re just asking for water. During birth, I feel like, his s/o will be yelling from the pain and accidentally yell at him too lol. “STOP TALKING, SOONYOUNG!” you shout during a particularly painful contraction, and he freezes, wide-eyed. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll be quiet—but I’m still here!” When the baby is born, he’s crying harder than you are, clutching your hand, “WE DID IT! I mean, you did it! I’M A PAPA TIGER! Look at our little cub!” while also jumping up and down yelling.

Wonwoo: Wonwoo is the reliable rock you need. You’re biting your lip, trying not to scream, and he notices your trembling. He leans closer, his voice soft, “It’s okay to let it out. I’m here for you, always.” He stays by your side, holding your hand, his thumb gently rubbing the back of it to soothe you. Every now and then, he murmurs, “You’re doing so well,” his voice laced with admiration and respect for his beloved. When the baby is finally born, he doesn’t say much at first—just stares in awe, holding them close with a small, amazed smile. After a long pause, he finally whispers, “So this is what pure happiness feels like.” Theb he looks at you, eyes full of love, and promises, “I’ll be the best dad. For both of you.”

Woozi: Stressed but trying not to show it. Internally writing 15 songs about his emotions while saying, “Do you need anything? Water? Ice? A new husband?” all while trying his best to keep his emotions in check for your sake but low-key failing. “It hurts so much!” you cry, and Jihoon, though visibly worried and internally panicking, keeps rubbing your back, “I know, love, I know. Just a little more, and it’ll be over. You’re stronger than you think.” Once it’s over, he’s stunned silent, staring at the tiny life in his hands in awe, whispering, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write anything more beautiful than this.” Then he looks at you, his voice soft: “You’re incredible.”

Dokyeom: Your overly enthusiastic cheerleader is trying his best. But when you let out a scream, “AUGH!” Seokmin yelps even louder, “ARE YOU OKAY?!” despite knowing full well that you’re not. He’s gripping your hand so tightly—probably too tightly and almost crying with you. “YOU’RE DOING GREAT. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Then, mid-contraction, he suddenly panics, “Wait, do you hate me right now? I think you do.” You glare at him between deep breaths, and he flinches, “Okay! No talking! Got it!” When the baby is finally here, Seokmin completely loses it, his happy sobs are the loudest in the room. “We did it! Well, mostly you, but we did it!” He’s melting, practically sliding to the floor as he holds the baby, overwhelmed by joy. Someone has to hold him up before he turns into a puddle of emotions.

Mingyu: He’s the definition of chaos with a side of tears. “Why is it taking so long?!” you cry out, exhausted and frustrated, and Mingyu, who has been pacing non-stop—pauses for a second before nervously responding, “I don’t know, but I’m here! We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He’s trying so hard to be helpful, but his clumsy ass is in full force. “Do you need water, baby? A towel? Oh no, I dropped the towel! Wait, where’s the doctor—should I call someone?!” The moment the baby arrives, Mingyu’s emotions explode, he’s full-on sobbing, barely able to form words. “You’re amazing! Our baby is amazing!” He cradles the tiny newborn like the most precious thing in the world, holding on so tight that the nurses have to coax him into letting them check the baby. “No! They’re so tiny! So perfect! I’m NOT letting them go.” spoiler: he doesn't. they have the check the baby from his hold.

Minghao: Zen but emotional deep down. He’s by your side, reminding you to breathe like a yoga instructor, “Inhale, exhale, you’ve got this.” But you are still exhausted and losing focus during labor, “I can’t do it,” you mumble weakly, and Minghao immediately takes your hand, his calm voice grounding you: “Yes, you can. Focus on me. Deep breaths. You’re stronger than you know.” After the baby’s born, he holds them with the gentlest hands, his eyes full of tears. “You did so well,” he whispers, brushing hair out of your sweaty face. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.” His face is all smiley with streaks of dry tears down his cheeks as he kisses your nose, “This is the start of a masterpiece. You’re amazing, my love. I love you”

Seungkwan: The most emotional and slightly dramatic of them all. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Am I okay?!” He’s running on pure nerves. The situation escalates quickly when you reach the peak of labor, and it’s similar to Hoshi’s. “STOP TALKING, KWAN!” you snap, breathless from the pain. He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest, “I’m just worried! But okay, okay, I’ll shut up!” He’s jittery, constantly checking on you, the doctors, and the monitors, whispering prayers under his breath. The moment the baby is born, all his anxiety vanishes, replaced by unfiltered joy. He holds the baby, bawling his eyes out, voice shaking as he says, “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Then, looking at you with pure adoration, he sniffles, “I’m going to spoil them so much.”

Vernon: Surprisingly calm but mostly because he’s in shock. You’re gripping the bed rails so hard your knuckles turn white, trying not to scream, and Vernon, who notices how much you’re struggling, leans down, holding your hand. “You’re doing so great,” he says. “We’re so close, babe. Just a little more.” He doesn’t say much else, just keeps his grip firm, standing by your side like an unshakable pillar until you give birth while internally thinking, This is wild. When the baby is born, he stares at them for a long moment before finally saying, “Wow… we made this. That’s crazy.” But then, as he holds the baby, his normally neutral expression softens into something breathtaking. His heart eyes are fully showing— completely smitten, both with the baby and with you.

Dino: Our Dino is flustered but super supportive. “Do you need me to do anything? Tell me what to do—I’ll do it!” He’s hovering, heart racing, watching you struggle through the pain, and it’s breaking him. When you sob, “I can’t do it, Chan!” he nearly panics himself, but he quickly shakes his head and crouches beside you, rubbing your back. “Yes, you can,” he says firmly, “You’re the strongest person I know. Just a little more, I’m right here!” The second the baby arrives, his stress vanishes, replaced by pure joy. His grin is so wide it almost hurts. “I’m officially a dad! We’re parents now, love! Can you believe it?” He holds the baby with so much pride and tenderness, already making promises. “I’m going to be the fun parent. You’re going to have the coolest childhood ever, little one.” and holds their pinky.

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wordsmeetwbb · 1 month ago

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Whatever Azzi Wants, Azzi Gets

Word count: 3.3k

Content: smut (P receiving, tiniest hint of degradation)

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: This is my second attempt at writing this. The first was so terrible I deleted the entire 2.5k words instead of editing. I'm a lot happier with this so I hope y'all like it! Full disclosure, this was not edited well, so let me know if there's mistakes or anything. Enjoy the smut!

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Azzi wasn’t used to Paige letting her be in charge in the bedroom. Not that she was necessarily being cooperative in their current position, but she had agreed to let Azzi top tonight. Not only that, but Azzi had managed to convince Paige to let her use the strap. Paige’s strap, that she had never in a million years thought Azzi would ever wear. For now, it sat untouched on Paige’s dresser.

There had been a couple of times in Paige and Azzi’s relationship in which Azzi had brought up switching their roles around a little bit. She was perfectly satisfied with their sex life, but Paige was so bossy in everyday life, and then she got to be bossy in the bedroom too. It was giving her a bigger ego than was good for Azzi’s health. Luckily for Azzi, the solution to Paige’s overconfidence in her strap game lay in Azzi being a better three-point shooter than Paige.

The two girls had made a bet about who could make more threes in two and a half minutes. The winner got whatever they wanted. Paige made an impressive 49 shots in the allotted time. Much to Azzi’s amusement, her girlfriend had started bragging about her win before Azzi even had her turn. Then, Paige had to stand and watch in shame as Azzi made 50 shots. The disappointment on her face was almost reward enough for Azzi, but she was determined to tear Paige’s ego down even more.

That’s how they had ended up in their current situation: Paige completely naked, pressed into her mattress, with Azzi trailing kisses down her stomach. This wasn’t an unfamiliar position for either of them. As much as Paige enjoyed eating her girlfriend out, Azzi equally enjoyed returning the favor. It was the knowledge of what was coming next that made the whole thing so exhilarating. Azzi’s goal for the moment was to make Paige forget about all of it.

Azzi kept leaving kisses across Paige’s skin, avoiding the wetness in between her thighs. She’d get there later. For now, she was having too much fun teasing. Paige never let her take this much time before just pulling her up to where she really needed her.

Azzi slid further down the bed, trailing more kisses up Paige’s leg from her ankle. She kissed her calves, the scar on her knee, the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. Paige was breathing hard, wiggling on the bed in an attempt to get Azzi’s mouth on her cunt.

”Az, no more teasing. You had fun, now just touch me, come on-“ Paige insisted. Azzi rubbed one hand up and down Paige’s leg soothingly. The other she brushed over Paige’s stomach and up to her tits, taking one in her palm and squeezing. Paige’s head flew back into the pillow and Azzi had to stifle a laugh. Instead, she brushed her thumb over the nipple.

”Okay, okay, enough. If you’re gonna eat me out, just fucking do it. You’ve made whatever point you’re trying to make, baby.” Azzi frowned.

”We talked about this. You’re not in charge today, I am,” she told her girlfriend. Paige groaned and sat up.

”I thought you just wanted to fuck me with the strap. I didn’t think you were serious about wanting to be dominant or whatever.” Azzi slapped the inside of Paige’s thigh lightly in warning.

”Hey, I won the bet. I made more shots than you, so we’re doing this my way tonight. You get to be in charge all the time. Just relax for once. Your turn to be the pillow princess,” Azzi joked. Paige sighed.

”Fine, but can you just hurry up and touch me?” Azzi pushed Paige back down onto the bed and settled her face in between Paige’s legs.

”I should just keep teasing you. That’s what you do to me when I’m bratty,” Azzi mused.

”Don’t you fucking dare-“ Azzi cut her off by licking stripe up through her folds. Paige didn’t even have time to bite back her moan. Azzi repeated the motion, dragging her tongue through Paige’s wetness.

”Better, baby?” She asked sweetly. Paige didn’t bother to reply. Instead, one of her hands came down to bury itself in Azzi’s curls, pushing her deeper between her legs. Azzi was too preoccupied to reprimand her. Her mouth was already busy, alternating between kitten licks against Paige’s clit, long strokes through her folds, and dipping her tongue inside.

Paige was quickly becoming a mess under her. Every time Azzi flicked her tongue against her clit, more of Paige’s wetness dripped down onto the bed. She was bucking her hips against Azzi’s face, forcing Azzi to grip her girlfriend’s hips to keep her still. And the sounds she was making—moans and groans, deep and throaty whenever Azzi’s tongue touched her clit.

”Just like that- yeahhh, right there, ma,” Paige groaned. Azzi sucked Paige’s clit into her mouth, letting her teeth graze just slightly, knowing it drove Paige crazy. As expected, Paige’s hand fisted in Azzi’s hair. She moaned her name and Azzi knew she was getting close. She kept her mouth focused on Paige’s clit and slid her fingers down to play with Paige’s wetness. Her hips stuttered and Azzi took that as her sign to slide two fingers into Paige’s soaked pussy.

“Fuck, yes Az, almost there,” Paige panted. Azzi kept sucking Paige’s clit while she thrust her fingers slowly in and out. Paige cried out on one particularly deep thrust so Azzi did it again, and again, and again, until Paige was clenching around her fingers and moaning loudly.

“Coming, I’m coming, fuck Azzi,” she moaned. Azzi fucked her through it. Paige was so tight around her fingers that it was a struggle to keep moving them in and out. Then Paige was pushing Azzi away, legs starting to shake from the overstimulation. Azzi knew how sensitive Paige got after she came, and she fully planned to use that to her advantage.

She pulled away from Paige for the moment, but only to get up and walk to the dresser where the purple strap sat. She could feel Paige’s eyes tracing her body. She still had leggings and a bra on, but Paige stared at her regardless of what she wore.

She slipped out of the clothes and grabbed the strap, stepping into the harness and adjusting the straps. She had never worn it before, but she had watched Paige put it on enough times that she knew how it worked. To her surprise, Paige didn’t even try to talk her out of it as Azzi crawled back on top of the blonde, pressing gentle kisses to her lips.

“You’re really okay with this?” Azzi asked. Paige nodded. “Words, baby. I know I won the bet, but I’m not gonna make you do this if you honestly don’t want to try it.”

“I know. I’m good. Maybe it’ll make you appreciate my skills more when you realize what it’s like,” Paige smirked. Azzi rolled her eyes.

“Do you ever stop being so cocky?”

“You love it,” Paige said and pulled Azzi back to her mouth, leaving sloppy kisses on her lips and across her face. Azzi let herself enjoy it for a few beats before she pulled away.

“You still wet enough?” She asked. Paige nodded, hands drifting to Azzi’s hips to help guide her between her legs.

“I’ll help you, baby, don’t worry,” Paige said. Azzi scoffed.

“You can help me by shutting up and actually accepting that you’re not in charge tonight.” Paige frowned. Azzi ignored her. She shifted into a better position, moving Paige’s legs out of the way. She inched forward until just the tip of the purple dildo was nestled between Paige’s folds. Paige let out a long breath.

“Hurry up,” she demanded, gripping Azzi’s hips and attempting to drag her closer. Instead, Azzi just dragged the tip up and down, spreading Paige’s wetness around teasingly. Paige released Azzi’s hips and let her arms flop back down onto the mattress in frustration.

“Ask me for what you want,” Azzi ordered. Paige’s eyes shot to Azzi’s.

“What?”

“Ask for what you want,” Azzi repeated, holding herself so still. She knew it was driving Paige crazy. For someone who had previously insisted she had no interest in getting fucked with a strap, she was trying awfully hard to get Azzi to slip inside of her. Azzi pulled away completely, leaving Paige empty. Paige whined.

“Seriously?” Azzi just stared at her girlfriend. Paige squeezed her eyes shut, face such a pretty shade of pink from her embarrassment. “Azzi, will you put it in?” She asked awkwardly. Azzi smiled.

“Say please.”

“Bro, I’m not saying please-” Azzi started to get up from the bed. She wasn’t actually going to leave, but she needed Paige to believe she would. It worked.

“Wait, baby, no. Please fuck me, okay? Is that what you wanted?” Azzi sighed. She’d just have to fuck the demands and controlling nature out of Paige. She settled herself back between Paige’s legs, one hand spreading her folds open. She was still soaked and her clit was now pink and puffy from the previous stimulation. Paige spread her legs a little wider in an attempt to coax Azzi into her.

“Tell me if I do something that hurts,” she said. As confident as Azzi was in her abilities to fuck Paige, this was new for both of them and she didn’t want to ruin any chance of Paige letting this happen again in the future. Paige nodded eagerly, hands returning to their places on Azzi’s hips. With that, Azzi nudged her way forward.

It was odd to see the strap sliding slowly into Paige, to see it splitting her open, to be the one causing that to happen, and to not physically feel anything from it. Azzi quickly gained an appreciation for how well Paige could fuck her without feeling her. She was too accustomed to being able to feel everything with her fingers or tongue.

“Fuck, Azzi, oh shit,” Paige mumbled. Azzi looked down at her girlfriend, whose eyes were squeezed shut. She was as deep as she could go without feeling like she would hurt Paige, so she just stayed there for a minute to let the blonde adjust. The stillness didn’t last long.

Paige’s eyes flew open the second she realized Azzi wasn’t moving and Azzi immediately knew demands were coming.

“Fucking move. I thought you wanted to fuck me, not just sit there,” she said, voice full of sass.

“Drop the attitude,” Azzi replied. She stayed still inside Paige.

“I don’t have an attitude. I’m telling you that I’m ready for you to give me more,” Paige argued. In response, Azzi pulled her hips back, dragging the strap out of Paige slowly. Then, she thrust back in, a little faster than she thought she should, but it forced a gasp out of Paige so it must have been alright.

“You’re being a brat,” she told Paige. Paige shook her head in disagreement, all while Azzi continued to thrust in and out of Paige, trying to find a rhythm.

“I’m just- fuck- helping you.”

“You’re not helping. I know what I’m doing. This feels good, right?” Azzi argued. She wanted Paige to either shut up or use her words for more productive things, like moaning and begging. She had never seen Paige anything less than dominant during sex, but she wanted to see if she could pull out a little bit (or a lot) of submission.

“Feels good, but Az, I can take more-” Azzi thrust harder than she had before. It punched a moan out of Paige.

“Like that?” Azzi asked sweetly. Her voice wasn’t as composed as she would have liked. The base of the dildo had settled in just the right place on her clit. It rubbed against her with every thrust and was making it harder to focus on what she and Paige were saying.

“Fuck, yes baby, just like that.” Azzi really wanted Paige to shut up, but she didn’t know how to make it happen. She kept thrusting, keeping her rhythm steady, and shifting the angle every once in a while in an attempt to find that spot inside Paige.

“Oh my god,” Azzi mumbled. The friction against her clit was starting to drive her crazy. Paige perked up, seeming to know exactly what had Azzi so wound up.

“You can feel it, can’t you? Against your clit?” Azzi thrust harder, speeding up. She brought one of her hands down to Paige’s clit as well, drawing little circles that did more teasing than anything. She just wanted to get Paige worked up enough that it was harder for her to speak. It took less time than she thought it would.

“Right there, so close. Don’t stop,” Paige groaned. It wasn’t begging, but it was a start. Azzi shifted slightly and Paige moaned immediately. She writhed on the bed, hips moving to meet Azzi’s thrusts. It didn’t take much longer, only a few more thrusts and circles of her fingers around Paige’s clit, and then Paige was moaning, her legs were shaking, and her cunt was visibly squeezing around the dildo. Azzi kept thrusting through Paige’s orgasm, helping her ride it out. Then, for the second time that night, Paige was pushing Azzi away, too sensitive to keep going. Azzi didn’t let Paige push her very far.

“We’re not done,” she told Paige. Paige’s eyes, which had drifted closed to bask in her climax, flicked open.

“I’ve already come twice tonight, Az.”

“I know. And I haven’t even come once,” Azzi replied. She saw a hint of guilt flicker across Paige’s face. She softened, bringing a hand up to cup Paige’s jaw. “I know I could come just from fucking you,” she said.

“You already fucked me. You just did that,” she said, tone full of confusion. In answer, Azzi slid back into Paige, not bothering to go slow. Paige cried out, legs trembling once again, too overstimulated to handle more.

“I’m going to fuck you again,” Azzi explained. Paige’s head pressed into a pillow, hair fanning out behind her. Her hands fisted in the sheets and her face screwed up in a confusing combination of discomfort and pleasure. Azzi had to hold back a grin. Paige always did enjoy just a little bit of pain in the bedroom.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay,” Paige agreed breathlessly. Azzi knew that if she brought a hand down to Paige’s clit, it probably would be too much for her right now. Instead, she threaded a hand through Paige’s hair, deceptively gentle for now. As soon as she saw Paige settle further into the bed, discomforting making way for more pleasure, Azzi gripped a section of Paige’s hair close to her scalp and tugged. She expected a groan or an exhalation of her name, but Paige let out a high-pitched whine that Azzi had never heard from her before. Just the sound sent a rush of warmth through her stomach and between her legs. She could feel herself dripping down her thighs at this point.

“You liked that, baby?” Azzi asked, punctuating the question with a harder thrust. Paige moaned, still in that high-pitched tone that was so unfamiliar. She nodded quickly, hair moving around the pillow. Azzi used her grip on Paige’s hair to tilt her girlfriend’s head up to look at her. “Words, Paige,” she ordered.

“Yes, yes, I liked it. Fuck me harder, please, Azzi, need it so bad,” Paige whined. She was panting, hips bucking up to meet every one of Azzi’s thrusts. It was mindless at this point. Both of their brains were on autopilot, just trying to get the maximum amount of pleasure out of every movement.

“Good girl. Because you asked so nicely, I’ll give you what you want,” Azzi praised. She slowed her thrusts slightly but each one was more forceful. Paige went crazy for it, moaning and trying to physically pull Azzi further into her.

Azzi wanted to hear more of those sounds, even though they were practically constant at this point, so she replaced her hand in Paige’s hair, closer to the top of her neck this time, and pulled. Paige let out something that could only be called a whimper. She had her eyes closed, her back arched, and her heels dug into Azzi’s back. Neither of them was quite sure when Paige moved her legs, they just knew it felt even better.

“So tight for me, so wet. Just sucking me up, aren’t you baby?” Azzi cooed. Paige couldn’t even reply. The only thing in her head was “please” and Azzi’s name, so that’s what she said. She moaned her girlfriend’s name over and over, followed by desperate pleas.

“You want it faster, baby, or do you want to come just like this? I bet you could, just from me fucking you slow like this. Look at you, so pathetic. Begging for me like a slut,” Azzi mused. Degradation wasn’t something they played with very often, but Paige seemed to like it. She bit her lip hard enough that the skin turned white. Azzi brought her hand down to the area and pulled Paige’s lip free from her teeth.

“Please, faster, wanna come. So close, I need it bad. God, Azzi, fuck. Please, please, please,” Paige cut herself off with another whine. Tears were starting to fall from her eyes, tracing shiny wet paths down her cheeks. Just that sight almost made Azzi come on the spot.

The reminder of just how close she was made Azzi focus a little bit more on her thrusts and less on every other part of the intoxicating situation. Paige’s noises were constant now, and no part of her body could lay still. Azzi, on the other hand, was now fully focused on getting herself off. Paige was already so fucked out she had no doubt she would come too.

“So close, Paige, doing so good for me baby.” The praise lit up on Paige’s face and seemed to inspire her because she started meeting Azzi’s thrusts with renewed vigor. The added force made Azzi moan, loud and drawn out. It only took a couple more thrusts, Azzi’s hips meeting Paige’s on every one, until Paige was letting out a high moan, clawing at Azzi’s torso and arms, and her pussy was clenching around the dildo.

“Coming, Azzi, coming, please please,” she begged. Azzi didn’t slow down in the slightest. The sight of Paige coming apart around the strap and the wrecked expression on her face combined with the now overwhelming friction on her clit was too much.

“Good girl, Paige, yes, oh fuck, I’m there too,” Azzi panted. More tears were streaking down Paige’s face, this time more from discomfort.

“Too much, Az, can’t take it, please, enough, too much!” She pleaded. Azzi could feel herself clenching around nothing as she came. She thrust into Paige a few more times, riding out her high. As soon as she was aware enough to notice the uncomfortable look on the blonde’s face, she slid the strap out of Paige quickly.

“Sorry, sorry, too much. I know, I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. As soon as she had gotten herself out of the harness and deposited it somewhere on the floor next to the bed, she crawled back to Paige. Azzi pressed soft kisses to Paige’s cheeks, brushing away the tears. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re too sensitive for that,” she apologized again. She felt Paige relax against her.

“S’okay. I’m good. Great. Fuck, that was crazy,” Paige mumbled into Azzi’s shoulder. Azzi giggled, rolling herself off of Paige and onto the bed next to her. “We gotta clean up, baby,” she reminded Paige. Paige groaned, cuddling herself into Azzi’s back.

“Later. I’m busy being the big spoon,” she bargained. Azzi smiled softly.

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

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