#so i deeply regret touching that nerve for you. you touched a nerve for me in the post screenshotted here

[notasapleasure]

Here's a bit of history! The British PM told a female opposition MP to 'calm down, dear'. That's a fact, and so is the divided response to his words. Some felt it meant nothing; others thought it was an indication of what a patronising wankstain David Cameron was.

We all have our narratives of this little moment, but I must say I fall into the camp who thought it was indicative of a club of insecure posh boys telling jokes about the yucky girls. Aka 'bitches', as this lovely historian who I have now blocked puts it :)

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

“I love you.” — Arcane

how the main cast say “I love you” ft, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Jayce, Viktor, Ekko and Sevika.

Jinx

♡ Jinx would confess her love impulsively, likely in the middle of one of her chaotic activities. She’d blurt it out without much thought, then immediately try to brush it off as if it wasn’t a big deal.

♡ It would happen in a moment of manic excitement—maybe while building a new weapon or causing destruction together.

♡ “You know I… uh… I love you or whatever, okay?! Don’t make it weird!”

♡ After saying it, she’d pretend it didn’t happen, avoiding eye contact. Deep down, though, she’d be terrified of your reaction but desperately want you to feel the same.

Vi

♡ Vi would say “I love you” after a significant or intense moment, like after a fight or while patching you up. She’d want it to feel real and grounded, not just something she throws around casually.

♡ She’d keep it straightforward but genuine, her voice softening in a way that shows her tough exterior is cracking.

♡ “Look, I’m not great at this, but I love you. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

♡ She’d look a little nervous but would quickly recover, smirking or teasing to lighten the mood if things felt too vulnerable.

Caitlyn

♡ Caitlyn’s confession would be deliberate and heartfelt, happening in a quiet, intimate moment. She’d want you to know she means it fully.

♡ It would likely happen during a calm evening, after she’s had time to gather her thoughts and find the right moment to say it.

♡ “I’ve been meaning to tell you… I love you. Truly. You’ve brought so much light into my life, and I can’t imagine it without you.”

♡ She’d watch you closely, her composure hiding subtle nerves. When you say it back, she’d smile warmly, radiating quiet confidence as she holds your hand.

Jayce

♡ Jayce’s confession would be grand and emotional, delivered with the same passion he pours into everything he does.

♡ He’d say it in a moment of triumph or vulnerability, possibly after a victory or while doubting himself and finding comfort in you.

♡ “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. I love you, and I don’t want to go another day without you knowing that.”

♡ He’d look at you with loving eyes, his heart on his sleeve. Once you reciprocate, he’d pull you into a tight embrace, relieved and overjoyed.

Viktor

♡ Viktor’s confession would be quiet, understated, and deeply sincere. He wouldn’t make a grand gesture but would choose a private moment where his words would carry weight.

♡ It would likely happen late at night while he’s working, and you’re nearby keeping him company. He’d pause for a moment, realizing how much you mean to him.

♡ “I never expected to find someone who sees me… and accepts me as you do. I love you. I hope you know that.”

♡ He’d glance at you, his expression guarded but hopeful. If you say it back, he’d let out a soft, relieved sigh, his lips curling into a rare smile as he continues his work with renewed focus.

Ekko

♡ Ekko’s confession would be sweet and playful, with a touch of hesitation as he tries to gauge your reaction.

♡ It would likely happen during a casual moment, like while exploring the Lanes together or sharing a quiet conversation about your lives.

♡ “You know… you’re kinda my favorite person. Okay, scratch that—you are my favorite person. I love you. There, I said it.”

♡ He’d grin nervously, rubbing the back of his neck or looking away until you respond. Once you say it back, he’d laugh, relieved, and tease you lightly to mask how much it meant to him.

Sevika

♡ Sevika’s confession would be gruff, direct, and tinged with vulnerability she’d rather not show.

♡ It would happen in an emotionally charged moment, like after you’ve been in danger or during a rare quiet evening when the mood feels right.

♡ “I don’t say stuff like this. But… I love you. So don’t make me regret telling you, alright?”

♡ She’d watch you carefully, her eyes sharp but betraying a hint of nervousness. When you say it back, she’d exhale slightly, offer a small smirk, and likely distract herself with a drink to mask how much she cares.

[dilfismz]

Coming Home

Pairing: Gi-Hun X reader

Warnings: Smut, needy Gi-Hun, pathetic Gi-Hun, he 💦 too fast, sub!Gi-Hun, praise, some degradation…I think that’s all. Mentions of canon typical violence ofc.

Description: Following the events of S1 Gi-Hun is anxious to come see his girlfriend. He’ll explain everything later right now he just needs her.

Gi-hun’s heart raced as he stepped off the train, the cool night air biting at his cheeks. The familiar streets stretched before him, but everything felt alien. It wasn’t just the city that had changed—it was him. His hands trembled as he clutched the suitcase holding the few things he’d been allowed to keep. His thoughts swirled, heavy with the memories of the games. The screams, the betrayal, the desperation—they all lingered in his mind like the bitter aftertaste of regret.

Yet, above all, one thought pierced through the fog: I have to see her. I need her.

Your face was the only constant in his mind during the chaos. You were his anchor, the only thing that kept him tethered to the hope of a future. Now that he was free, nothing could stop him from returning to you.

————————————————————————

Gi-hun hesitated at the door to your shared apartment, his hand hovering over the handle. He’d stood here countless times before, but now it felt monumental, like crossing the final threshold after a long and arduous journey. What could he even say? How could he explain where he’d been?

Before he could lose his nerve, he turned the knob and stepped inside. The familiar scent of home washed over him, and his chest tightened.

“Gi-hun?” Your voice, soft and hesitant, came from the living room.

He froze. You hadn’t seen him yet, but your tone was enough to bring him to his knees. It was filled with a mix of worry and relief, as if you’d been waiting for him, praying he’d come back.

When you finally saw him, your eyes widened. You rushed to him, your hands flying to his face. “Oh my god, where have you been? You just disappeared!”

Your touch was gentle but firm, grounding him in a way nothing else could. He closed his eyes, leaning into your palms as if they were the only thing keeping him upright.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled him into a tight embrace. “You’re back,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “That’s all that matters.”

Gi-hun clung to you like a lifeline, burying his face in your shoulder. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he needed it more than anything. He inhaled deeply, committing your scent to memory, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood and fear that had haunted him.

The two of you sank onto the couch, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled ever so slightly.

“Where were you, Gi-hun?” you asked softly, your fingers threading through his hair.

He hesitated, his grip on you tightening. “It’s… complicated,” he began. “I… I’ll tell you everything, but not tonight. Please, just… let me hold you.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of whatever he’d been through.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Every second, I thought of you. You’re the reason I came back”.

Gi-hun’s voice wavered as he clung to you, his fingers gripping your sweater with such desperation it was as though he feared you might vanish if he let go. His breaths were uneven, shaky, and warm against your neck as he pressed his face into the crook of your shoulder.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking. “You don’t… you don’t know how much. I thought about you every second.”

Your arms tightened around him, cradling him closer. “I missed you too,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “Every day, Gi-hun. I didn’t know where you were, if you were okay—”

“I wasn’t,” he interrupted, his voice almost a whimper. “I wasn’t okay. Not for a second. I—I thought I’d die without seeing you again.” His fingers tightened their grip on your sides. “And I couldn’t die. I couldn’t, not when I still needed to tell you…”

“Tell me what?” you asked softly, your hands brushing over his back in soothing circles.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaunt face illuminated by the dim light filtering through the room. His eyes were wide and glassy, shimmering with unshed tears. “I love you,” he said, his voice trembling. “I love you so much. You’re the only reason I made it through. The only reason I’m here.”

Tears welled in your own eyes as you cupped his face in your hands. “Gi-hun—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice cracking. “Please, can I kiss you? I need to. I need to feel you. I need to know you’re real.”

Your heart twisted at the raw desperation in his voice. “Of course,” you whispered.

The moment your lips met his, he let out a quiet, broken sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands slid up to cup your face, his touch trembling and unsteady as though he couldn’t believe you were really there. He kissed you with a frantic need, as if he was trying to pour all the pain, fear, and longing he’d carried into that one moment.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed against yours as he whispered, “More. Please, I need more.”

You didn’t hesitate, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hold back. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you tightly as though you were the only thing anchoring him to reality. The kiss deepened, his breath hitching against your lips.

“I thought I’d never feel this again,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. “You don’t know what it was like, being there, not knowing if I’d ever come back to you…” His lips trailed to your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You let out a breathy moan, suddenly feeling a fire in the pit of your stomach that you didn’t know had started. Moving to straddle Gi-hun you reconnect your lips, pulling on the ends of his hair.

Gi-hun whimpers at the feeling, his hips jutting upwards, length begging for friction. You stifle a laugh and bite his bottom lip, pulling away to connect your foreheads. “Honey, you need a haircut”, you mumble before pulling harder at the roots, now grinding down on his hard member.

“Oh please, please don’t stop”, Gi-hun whispers out, trailing kisses down your neck, stopping every once in a while to leave a pretty mark.

You start palming him though his slacks, tracing his hard cock and muttering praises against his lips. “You look so pretty like this Gi-hun, so needy”, you whisper into the shell of his ear, a condescending lilt to your tone.

Gi-hun’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his legs shaking as he pleads, “Please I need you…need to feel you, can’t do this much longer”.

You scoff at this, grabbing his chin, “Oh sweetheart you leave without a trace for a week and think you get to call the shots…you’ll earn my cunt once I know what you were up to”.

You punctuate your sentence with a light squeeze to his shaft, sending him reeling. His hips stutter and shake as you feel his slacks dampen and you smirk, “Besides you wouldn’t have lasted long inside of me anyway”.

A/N: I’ve never written a dom! reader before (hence why it’s so short) so I appreciate your patience 😛

[https-lvesick]

RUNAWAY BRIDE ★ huang renjun (TEASER)

summary . . ♡ Just weeks before your wedding, doubts begin to creep in, and on the big day, you panic and make a break for it. Desperate and still in your bridal gown, you flag down a passing car driven by a friendly stranger. He offers to take you to safety, but what starts as a temporary stop turns into something much more. As you hide from the life you left behind, feelings grow, and the lovely stranger finds he doesn’t want you to leave.

pairing . . ♡ renjun x rich girl!reader

genre . . ♡ fluff, angst, smut, strangers to friends to lovers, love at first sight

content . . ♡ no content warning for the teaser!

word count . . ♡ 0.7k for the teaser (23k for the full fic)

skye's notes . . ♡ superrr excited for this one!! especially because it's my love :( the masterlist will come out in a while 😖 literally shaking in my boots to hit the post button

release date . . ♡ january 31

taglist . . ♡ OPEN!

You stared at yourself in the mirror for the thousandth time. Your eyes traced every detail—the flawless hairstyle, the delicate diamond tiara, the long white dress with intricate lace sleeves, and the impeccable makeup. Pride swelled within you for reaching this milestone, for taking the first step in building your future family. But why? Why did you feel so heavy with dread? Why did every thought of a future with your fiancé fill you with unease instead of joy?

The door creaked open, and one of your bridesmaids—your best friend—entered the room. Her radiant smile was contagious, filled with pride and warmth. It almost made you believe in the illusion of a blissful future. Because this was the right thing to do.

Wasn’t it?

"Here’s your bouquet..." she said, placing the bundle of crimson roses in your hands. Red roses, the ultimate symbol of love, carefully adorned with tiny diamonds nestled between the blooms. Joy beamed with excitement, far more emotional than you felt. Her eyes drifted to your trembling hands, interpreting it as a case of perfectly reasonable wedding jitters.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, taking your hands in hers. You inhaled deeply, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Nervous," you admitted with a weak, insincere smile. Everything about this moment felt like a facade. "My heart’s racing faster than one of Sung’s monologues."

She chuckled, and for a fleeting second, the tension eased. Was the rapid beat of your heart merely pre-wedding anxiety? Or was it doubt?

"That’s perfectly normal," Joy reassured, her tone as light as if describing a fairytale. "I felt exactly the same on my wedding day. Trust me, the nerves disappear the moment you say ‘I do’ and seal it with a kiss."

Your eyes flutter open. Joy, still twirling around the room with a smile on her face, sings in that melodic voice that always brings you peace. You stare at your reflection again, knowing there’s still a chance—one fleeting chance—to make the right choice.

"Joy?" you call softly. "Could you get me some water? I think these nerves are really getting to me..." Your voice trembles just enough, sounding perfectly fragile—exactly like the version of yourself everyone expects. Joy giggles at your tone, unaware of anything unusual.

"Of course," she says cheerfully, excusing herself before slipping out the door.

Better to regret doing too much than to regret doing nothing at all.

The words echo in your mind as you pull off your heels and set them aside. Then, with your pulse racing, you open the door that leads to the garden where the celebration waits.

The moment your bare feet touch the grass, you run.

You run as fast as you can, ignoring the weight of the dress pulling you down, ignoring the stinging thoughts of what people will think, ignoring the consequences that tomorrow will bring. All that matters is getting out—escaping the cage before it locks you in forever.

When Joy returns to find the door ajar, the tiara and heels abandoned, the crystal glass slips from her fingers, shattering on the floor. Fear flashes across her face, but she doesn’t chase after you. She lets you go.

"I hope you know what you’re doing..." Joy whispers to herself. She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head. She waits a moment, giving herself just enough time before putting on the perfect mask of panic for when the news breaks—the bride is gone.

It takes longer than you'd like to escape the mansion grounds, and even longer before anyone realizes the bride is missing. Minhyuk, your fiancé, stands in stunned silence at first, refusing to believe it’s true. Then anger overtakes him, his fury mirrored by your father, whose mind is already racing with ways to punish you for disgracing the family.

When you finally reach the street, your legs burn and your lungs ache. You stop to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest, knowing that by now, everyone is searching for you. The security team must already be mobilized. Finding you will be easy—too easy. After all, a bride running through the streets of Los Angeles isn’t exactly inconspicuous.

You take off again, pushing your legs to move faster, weaving through traffic, not waiting for the light to turn. The inevitable happens—a car screeches to a halt, clipping your side just enough to send you stumbling. The driver’s face is as terrified as yours.

“Help me,” you murmur, voice trembling as your eyes lock with his.

did you enjoy your reading? why don’t reblog, like or leave a comment? this way i know you liked what i wrote and surely will keep up with the good content! 𖹭 masterlist 𖹭 series masterlist

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs @polarisjisung @chenlezip

[hazymoonlinh]

Lost n Found

Lighter x reader

Part2

This is fking long

(Inspiration went crazy lmao)

The first thing you felt when you drifted back to consciousness was pain—sharp and relentless, like fire licking through every nerve in your body. It weighed you down, made your limbs feel like lead, and each shallow breath brought another wave of agony. For a moment, you wondered if this was hell, and if so, it was far more mundane than you imagined.

You cracked your eyes open, vision blurring, and darted them around the room. A hospital. The faint beeping of machines echoed softly, the sterile scent of antiseptic stinging your nose. You shifted slightly, only to regret it immediately when pain jolted through you.

I’m still alive.

A bitter thought, but you barely had the strength to hold onto it before something else caught your attention—someone else.

Slumped beside your bed, head resting heavily on his crossed arms, was Lighter Lorenz. The sight startled you—messy dark green hair falling carelessly over his face, his red scarf crumpled on the floor as if he’d thrown it off without care. He was completely still, his breathing deep but strained, like he hadn’t been fully at peace even in his sleep.

The faintest of groans slipped from your throat as you tried to move again, and that was all it took.

“—Hey.”

The chair scraped loudly as Lighter jolted upright, his eyes wide, raw with disbelief as he stared at you. For a moment, he froze, like he thought you were a figment of his imagination. Then his breath hitched, and you swore you saw his whole body sag in relief.

“You’re—” He choked on his words, a shaky, disbelieving laugh escaping him. “You’re awake.”

You barely managed a sound, a quiet hum that could’ve been confirmation or just pain. Even that effort had you wincing, but it didn’t matter. Lighter had already pushed himself closer, nearly trembling as he looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, his hands hovering near yours as if he didn’t know whether he could touch you. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”

You blinked slowly, your gaze drifting toward him, and with what little strength you had, you moved your hand—barely lifting it from the bed—just enough to brush weakly against his. A feeble attempt, but you could feel his hand instantly catch yours, holding it carefully like it might shatter.

His grip trembled.

“Hey, don’t…” he whispered, his voice rough, pleading. “Don’t do that—don’t move, don’t—” His words cut off as if his throat closed around them.

You felt his hands shift, hesitating for only a second before he brought your limp fingers up, gently pressing them to his face. His skin was warm, rough with faint stubble, but you felt how his breath hitched against your palm, like the reality of your touch had broken something in him.

“You’re here,” he whispered, more to himself than you, eyes squeezing shut.

You stared weakly at him, trying to focus on his expression through the haze of exhaustion. His brows were furrowed, his mouth pulled into a tremble of a smile that couldn’t quite form, and his hands still shook as he held yours against his face. You couldn’t remember ever seeing him so undone.

His voice cracked again as he breathed out, “I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you.”

With what little strength you had, you shifted your fingers against his cheek, the movement so faint it was barely more than a twitch, but it was enough. Lighter stilled. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he gave you—relief and anguish and something deeply tender—almost made your chest ache more than the wounds.

“Don’t look so miserable,” you croaked weakly, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not a good look.”

Lighter let out a broken laugh, half-choked, as he shook his head and pressed your hand a little closer to his face, like he couldn’t bear to let go. “You’re….unbelievable, you know that?”

Your eyelids felt heavy again, the exhaustion pulling you back under, but before you drifted off, you gathered just enough strength to move your fingers—barely brushing against his hair. It wasn’t much, but you could feel him freeze for just a second before his head dipped, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

“…Don’t cry, Lighter,” you murmured faintly, your voice almost lost to the sound of the machines.

He said nothing, but his hand tightened around yours just slightly, steady and reassuring as your vision dimmed again. The last thing you felt before sleep claimed you was the warmth of him, anchoring you there, refusing to let you slip away again.

____

The days that followed were a blur of discomfort, frustration, and exhaustion. Recovery wasn’t the smooth, quiet process you imagined—every moment was heavy with dull aches and sharp stabs of pain that seemed determined to remind you of the fragile state you were in. The smallest movements felt monumental. Sitting up? Agony. Walking? A torment. And the worst part? You had to do it.

Lighter made sure of that.

“I’m not moving,” you grumbled, staring at the ceiling with all the stubbornness of someone who’d resigned themselves to becoming one with the hospital bed.

“You are.” Lighter’s voice was steady—calm, but firm. He stood by the side of the bed, arms crossed, his red pupils narrowing ever so slightly behind his sunglasses. “I’ve seen statues with more energy than you.”

You shot him a glare, one that would’ve been far more effective if you weren’t half-buried under blankets like a miserable, oversized cocoon. “I can’t feel my everything. Walking isn’t happening today.”

He huffed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he shook his head. “Come on now, don’t be impossible.”

“And you’re annoying.”

“Good,” he shot back without missing a beat. “At least you’re talking. It’s an improvement over yesterday.”

He was right, and that only made you grumble more.

Before you could retreat further into your blanket fortress, you felt Lighter’s warm hand on your shoulder—gentle, but unyielding. When you looked up, his expression had softened, those green eyes of his visible over the rim of his sunglasses, their red pupils burning with something that looked far too much like care.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “One step. That’s all I’m asking for today.”

You sighed deeply, the ache in your body somehow amplifying your exhaustion. “Why do you care so much?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a moment, Lighter didn’t respond. He just looked at you—really looked at you—and there was no smirk, no teasing edge to his voice when he finally spoke.

“Because I’m not giving up on you,” he said softly, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

The weight of his words hit you harder than you wanted to admit, and it was enough to shut you up—at least for the moment. You seem to have zero resistance when it’s coming to him, and you’re not so happy about it.

With great reluctance, you let him ease the blankets off of you, though you shot him the occasional withering look as he gently slipped an arm under your back to help you sit upright.

“Careful—”

“I know,” you snapped, hating how pathetic your voice sounded. The motion sent fresh ripples of pain through you, and your face scrunched instinctively as you bit back a groan.

Lighter didn’t flinch. He didn’t complain. He just stayed beside you, his hold steady and careful. “Deep breaths. You’ve got this.”

You exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut. “I hate this.”

“Good. Hate’s motivating,” he replied smoothly, earning a scowl from you.

Slowly, he shifted his grip, easing your legs over the edge of the bed. You grimaced at the movement, feeling every ounce of weight in your body as if you’d suddenly been dropped into it for the first time.

“I’m dying,” you muttered dramatically.

“You’re not dying.”

“I might as well be.”

“You’re not. I promise.” Lighter’s voice was firm, but his touch remained impossibly gentle as he helped you to your feet. The moment your weight shifted, your knees wobbled dangerously, and you swore you would’ve crumpled straight to the floor if not for the steady hands gripping your waist.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the steadiness of his presence holding you upright when you couldn’t.

You frowned at the floor, breathing through the dull ache spreading through your limbs. “For god’s sake. I’m a disaster.”

“You’re alive,” he corrected gently. “Which means you’ve already won the hardest fight.”

You wanted to snap back, to say something sharp and sarcastic, but the words lodged in your throat as you looked up at him. He was staring at you with that same, infuriating patience—the kind that made you feel seen, whether you wanted to be or not.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m someone worth saving.”

Lighter’s grip on you didn’t waver. “That’s because you are.”

You looked away, cheeks warming faintly, too tired to argue anymore. Instead, you focused on taking a single, shaky step forward, feeling like a newborn deer. It was slow and awful, and you hissed through your teeth at the pain—but you did it.

“There you go,” Lighter murmured, his voice softer now, like he was proud of you without needing to say it outright.

“Ugh, you’re annoying,” you grumbled again, your hands weakly gripping his arms for balance.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back easily. “But I can work with that.”

You let out a heavy sigh, too worn out to keep up the banter, but when you risked a glance at him, you saw something rare—Lighter’s smile. Not his usual teasing grin or smirk, but something softer, more genuine. It almost made the pain worth it.

Almost.

“Fine,” you muttered. “One step. But don’t expect me to run a marathon anytime soon.”

Lighter chuckled, his hands still steady on you as he helped you back to the bed. “One step at a time, sweetheart. That’s all I need from you.”

_____

“Don’t you have mission to do? The red scarf of the Sons of Calydon, abandoning his work and his boss didn’t say a thing?”

You tries to push him away with the lamest thing you could think of.

Lighter let out a quiet, amused huff at your attempt, though there was no humor in his eyes. He leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, the signature red scarf draped over the chair like a constant reminder of the duty outside. But now, it can wait.

“You really think Big Daddy wouldn’t know exactly where I am?” he replied, voice low and steady, as if he were humoring you. “The old man sent me himself.”

Your frown deepened as you looked away, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Still… you have better things to do than babysit someone who can barely walk.”

“Wrong,” he said softly, cutting through your defenses. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You shot him a glare, but it wasn’t sharp enough to cut. It lacked the fire you’d once had. “Stop that. Stop acting like you’re—”

“Like I care?” Lighter finished for you, his red pupils flickering in the low light as he studied you. He tilted his head slightly, almost as though challenging you to fight him on it. “I thought we were done pretending.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. You stared down at your bandaged hands, hands that still felt too weak to do anything, and tried to swallow the lump rising in your throat.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered, quieter now. “Staying here. Taking care of me. I don’t have anything to repay you. ”

Lighter shifted, pushing himself off the edge of the bed. He crouched down beside you, close enough that you couldn’t avoid looking at him. When he spoke, his voice was softer, gentler, but the weight of it was impossible to ignore.

“Stop saying that.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. He wasn’t teasing you now, or brushing you off like he sometimes did to lighten the mood. His gaze held yours, steady and unwavering.

“If you’re pitying me, just say-”

“You think I’m here because I feel sorry for you?” Lighter shook his head slightly, a faint, almost bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because you matter. Whether you like it or not.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. The sincerity in his voice left you speechless, pinned under the weight of his gaze.

After a moment, Lighter exhaled softly and sat back down in the chair beside you, resting his arms on his knees. “You can push me away all you want,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, “but I’m not leaving. So go ahead, throw the worst you’ve got at me. You won’t shake me off that easily.”

You watched him for a long moment, trying to find cracks in his resolve—something to prove he was just saying what you wanted to hear. But there was nothing. Only patience. Only Lighter, sitting there like he’d already decided he was staying, no matter how hard you tried to shove him out.

“That stubbornness of yours is going to get you into trouble,” you murmured finally, trying to sound annoyed, though it came out weaker than you wanted.

Lighter smirked faintly, leaning back in the chair with a casual shrug. “I’ve been through worse.”

You let out a slow breath, your body too tired to keep fighting him off—at least for now. As much as you hated to admit it, his presence was steady, grounding. Something about having him there—unshakable and stubborn as ever—made the exhaustion in your chest feel just a little lighter.

“Fine,” you muttered, shifting deeper into the blankets. “Stay. But don’t expect me to be nice about it.”

Lighter’s grin softened into something warmer, quieter, as he settled into his seat again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_____

“Eat,” Lighter said, sliding the bowl of soup onto the small tray table in front of you. His tone was firm, but the way he angled the spoon toward your hand betrayed his gentler intentions.

You scowled, glaring at the soup as though it had personally wronged you. “I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten anything all day,” he shot back, nudging the tray closer. “I don’t care if you’re hungry. Your body needs it, and you’re not skipping this.”

You crossed your arms, slumping further into the hospital bed. “I’ll eat later.”

“You said that three meals ago.” Lighter leaned against the chair beside you, his green-black hair falling across his face, though the sharpness of his red pupils still burned through. “At this rate, you’re going to waste away before I can even teach you how to walk again.”

You rolled your eyes, the ache in your body making you even more irritable than usual. “I don’t need a lecture, Lighter.”

“And I don’t need to babysit a grown adult,” he countered, though his smirk didn’t quite hide the worry etched into his features. He straightened, his red scarf shifting as he crossed his arms. “But here we are. So, what’s it going to take? You want me to spoon-feed you?”

“Try it, and I���ll throw it at you,” you snapped, shooting him a withering glare.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “There’s the fire. Glad to know you’re not entirely gone.”

The back-and-forth continued for what felt like hours—over food, over water, over walking down the hallway. He tried everything to cajole, tease, or outright push you into doing the smallest things to take care of yourself. But you resisted at every turn, too worn out to summon the strength or will to comply.

Eventually, Lighter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood from the chair beside you. “Fine. Be stubborn. But I’m not giving up, so don’t think you’ve won.”

He turned his back to you, walking over to the small couch in the corner of the room and collapsing onto it with a groan. He pulled his scarf loose, tossing it onto the armrest before leaning back and resting his head against the cushion.

For the first time, you noticed how tired he looked—how the shadows under his eyes seemed deeper, the usual energy in his movements subdued. You frowned, guilt prickling at the edges of your stubbornness.

The minutes passed in silence, the faint rhythm of his breathing filling the room as he seemed to drift off. Your chest tightened as you watched him, his face soft and unguarded in the dim light.

Slowly, carefully, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Every movement felt like an uphill battle, but you bit back the groan of pain as you made your way toward him. You stopped just shy of the couch, your hands clutching the edge for balance as you gazed down at him.

“Idiot,” you muttered softly, though your tone lacked any real bite. “You’re working harder than I am. What are you trying to prove?”

He didn’t stir, his chest rising and falling steadily. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should even be doing this. But the guilt wouldn’t let you leave it alone.

With a shaking hand, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his forehead. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “For being so difficult. For… for making you worry so much.”

Your hand lingered for a moment before you leaned down, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to his forehead. The warmth of his skin against your lips made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You straightened, gripping the couch again as you prepared to shuffle back to bed. But the sound of his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Lighter murmured, his tone teasing despite the hoarseness of his voice.

Your eyes widened as you turned back to him, catching the faint smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes were half-open now, those green eyes glinting faintly in the low light.

“Y-You were awake?” you hissed, heat flooding your cheeks.

“Barely,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something quieter as he sat up slowly. “But I’m glad I didn’t miss that.”

You glared at him, though the embarrassment in your expression dulled its edge. “Tch. Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said, his voice laced with warmth as he leaned back against the couch. “But it’s nice to know you care, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, already shuffling back toward the bed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his smirk growing. “Guess that makes us even.”

As much as you hated to admit it, there was something comforting about the teasing lilt in his voice—something steady, unshakable. And despite the exhaustion weighing on you, you felt the faintest spark of warmth in your chest as you settled back into bed, his words still lingering in the quiet of the room.

[babyangelsky]

Peat's acting is stupendous and it's hurting my feelings

I need to talk about the bedroom scene and the fight that preceded it because it felt like I was having a mirror held up to me and looking at my younger self and in doing, so I've come to love Tongrak as a character even more than I did before.

I talked about the expressions already but I just cannot get past this one. Rak's eyes are so dead and he looks so tired in a way that I understand so deeply. He knows what's about to happen. He screened Prin's call earlier precisely in hopes of avoiding it but she showed up anyway.

I do have to acknowledge that a lot of my interpretation and feelings about him and these scenes are very much a product of my own experiences, but believe me when I tell you that having a family as fucked as his and having to deal with relatives like this drains you. You fight back because you have to, not because you want to. You don't go seeking the bullshit but somehow it always seems to arrive at your door.

I know exactly how he must be feeling because I've felt it. Because I've fought back and made sure my mask was firmly in place for as long as I needed it to only to break the second I could turn my face away.

I'm impressed that Rak didn't run from Mut and that he didn't start crying on the way to his bedroom. That powerwalk he did instead though? I know it all too well.

To Rak's mind, Mut has already witnessed far more than Rak ever intended for him to. That fight was nasty. It poked at so many wounds, touched on so many painful, intimate things about Rak's family and about him. Prin wanted to hurt and humiliate him and she succeeded.

I can confidently say that if someone I cared about witnessed that happening to me, the last thing I would want is to break down in front of them on top of it, so I completely understand why Rak's first instinct was to put distance between him and Mut. You know the breakdown is coming and the only thing you want is to have it in private.

I know people feel some kind of way about Rak's refusal to let Mut into his bedroom and essentially shutting him out but Mook tells us in episode 4 that no one is allowed in Rak's bedroom. This isn't just about Mut. Everything we have learned and seen of Rak so far tells us that he's a person who needs a safe place to hide. A place where he can close the door and know he won't be intruded upon.

Sure, it's his house and ideally he would have the freedom to break down wherever he wants to inside of it but given that Mook comes and goes pretty freely, he doesn't really have that luxury by his standards. There's always a chance she'll walk in. And he certainly doesn't have it now that he's no longer living alone.

So he goes to hide in his bedroom so he can process and feel what he needs to.

And when Mut comes after him, this happens. Mut pushed at that boundary out of genuine care and concern and he's not wrong for that. I've been on his side of this equation too and the impulse to help in whatever way you can is impossible to resist, even if all you can offer is a meal.

But I also understand Rak. God do I understand him. That need to be alone, demanding to be left in peace, lashing out when someone won't despite it being with good intentions. When you've been pushed to your limit and you know a breakdown is coming and that there will be shrapnel when it does, the very last thing you want is for the people you care about to get hit with it.

Like @bird-inacage said in their post, Tongrak is a caged animal at this point. He's feeling vulnerable and defensive and he lashes out. He doesn't want to, he tries to stop it, but it ends up happening anyway.

And he regrets it. He does. The way I see it, he couldn't bring himself to knock on Mut's door both because he'd exhausted all his nerve in the fight with Prin and because a part of him was probably worried that he'd be rejected if he did. When you lash out, especially when you don't mean to, there's always a worry that you've done irreparable damage to your relationship with whoever was on the receiving end and that you won't ever be forgiven.

Sometimes it really is something as simple as a sticky note that brings you to tears and has you sobbing into your dinner in the middle of the night.

The note and the meal are proof that Tongrak hasn't been rejected, that he's still cared for despite the way he reacted after the fight and the things that he said. We know that Mut wasn't going to reject him but Rak needed to know that as well.

And now that they had their moment in the dressing room and the issue of the money has been talked about, we're paving a way forward for Rak to be able to express what he feels without using it as a defense mechanism. He still will, and he will hurt me many more times before we're done, but we're making progress.

[acapelladitty]

Line Them Up

Pairing: Cooper Howard/GN!Reader

Summary - A teasing comment results in Cooper pushing his gun into your mouth and telling you exactly what to do with it. (a/n: It's a gunplay fic so if that ain't your thing then sorry 😈)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

It was your own goddamn fault.

Teasing Cooper always contained an element of risk but that same risk is what made the reward all the sweeter. More times than not, a little ribbing went a long way and ended with you spread across his cock, his vicious mouth splitting its attention between your lips and your neck as he marked you up with a possessive frenzy.

So, maybe, in the grand scheme of things, telling him that you'd rather blow his gun than his cock was not the right choice to make given his already sour attitude due to a failed attempt at scoring some new meds for his stash.

Despite his size, he moves with a fluidity that never fails to catch you off-guard and his body is hard against your own as he knocks you to the floor - rolling you like an alligator with a fresh meal clamped between its teeth until your back is pressing to the filthy floor and his knees are splayed on either side of your hips.

"Gonna regret that comment, sweetheart."

Arousal flooding your gut, the surge of lust tightens your muscles as you make a show of struggling beneath him, fighting back a smirk as he leans down slightly atop your writhing frame.

His cock pressing hard and heavy against your stomach as he pins you in place, Cooper's lips are twisted into a sadistic grin and his bright eyes flash with arousal as he rolls the tip of his filthy pistol across your lips. Flecks of rust and blood break off across your chin as you stick it out with defiance.

"Now, I'm a fair man. So let's put your money where your mouth is. If you can take this little 'ol gun all the way in your mouth then we'll see about replacing it with something a bit easier to swallow." Cooper growls, accent growing thicker with each word as he settles into a familiar disciplinary role. "So, open up, darlin'."

Shuddering, your lips part and the cool taste of metal floods your senses as the barrel of the pistol quickly presses your tongue to the floor of your mouth. You feel trapped and helpless, the pressure of his body and the intoxicating danger of his pistol making your head swim and your toes curl against your shoes.

Sliding the barrel along your tongue, Cooper massages the tip of his gun against your buds - metallic and harsh, and so unlike anything else that you've experienced before. But you take it in stride, flicking the end of your tongue up to taste along the bottom of the barrel, mapping out every groove and indent as he watches you with darkened eyes.

"Good little whore." Humming his approval, Cooper flashed his teeth at you, the colour of them stark against his leathered lips. "You've done this before, I think. A seasoned pro almost. Maybe you do deserve my cock, what do you think?"

Unable to speak, you wrap your tongue around the tip of the gun and pull it deeper within your mouth - a move which scores a rumble of lustful approval from him as he leans in even closer. His face almost touching your own, you can feel the heat rolling off his body and see the slight flare of the ragged skin around where his nose should be as he inhales your scent deeply.

"Yeah. Suck it. Show me how good you can be."

Steeling your nerves against the slight urge to retch as he pushes the gun even deeper towards your throat, you tuck your thumbs within your palms and never shift your eyes from his gaze as you swallow down as much of his pistol as you can, arousal and anxiety making your body shudder and your brain feel fuzzy.

Show me how good you can be.

Teasing Cooper always contained an element of risk, but as you lay together less than an hour later, your throat feeling raw and used from the vicious and merciless battering of his cock against the sensitive skin, the deep look of satisfaction on his features as his head slips down towards your own groin was as sweet a victory as ever.

[measuredingold]

heaven sent

authors note: after a month off, i've finally finished my noah piece :) this is my first on tumblr, second one all together (there's one on my ao3). this was a request a friend of mine made a month or so ago, and i'm happy to finally get it out for them. briefly proofread, sorry for any mistakes. as always, enjoy and feedback is appreciated :) my requests are open btw! i'm also working on tag-list, so if you'd like to be added please send me a message :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 6.8k

cw/tags: slight friends to lovers, readers first time, realization of ~feelings~, fingering, cunnilingus (noah is a munch), p in v, protected sex (be safe!!!!! wrap it up folks!!!), fluff, maybe slight angst if you really squint, loads of tension, noah being a sweetheart, open ending, 18+ minors do not interact

You stare at Noah’s door, nerves bubbling inside of you. It was silly to be nervous - Noah was your best friend. You’ve lived with him for the last three years, known him even longer, and you’ve asked him plenty of favors in the time you’ve spent with him. However, this time was a lot different. 

Navigating your 20’s was something you were still figuring out. Establishing your career, finding a friend group that you trusted, and even dating was all so confusing. You’ve gotten the career down, and you think you got a pretty solid group of friends, but romantic relationships are still something that you can’t seem to get. 

You’ve been on dates, that wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was when things got… intimate. You’re embarrassed to say it, but you were still a virgin. It wasn’t like you were waiting for that special someone, it just never happened. You’d either get to that point and chicken out, or never even make it out of the kissing stage. At this point you just wanted it done and over with, but you couldn’t just do it with anyone. 

That’s where Noah came in.

You trusted him more than you trusted yourself, you think, and your other friends told you that if you just wanted to get it done and over with, do it with someone you won’t regret. 

You don’t think you’d regret Noah. 

With a shaky hand you reach up and knock on his door, the music from inside pausing. You hear shuffling and the twist of the doorknob, and there stood Noah. He smiles. 

“Didn’t know you were home,” He swings the door open and goes back over to his desk, falling into his chair. “What’s up?”

You don’t move, just stand in the doorway, your nerves intensifying. Shit.

He looks over at you after a moment of silence, and his brows furrow, lips pursing slightly. 

“Hello? Everything alright?”

You shake yourself out of your trance and shift on your feet, arms crossing over your chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” You bite down on your lip. “Like… a favor?”

Noah’s head tilts. “…What kind of favor?”

“A pretty big one.” You can’t help but smile sheepishly at the way Noah’s eyes narrow at you before his gaze softens, realizing your nerves, and he nods towards his bed. You walk over and sit down without a word.

He rolls his chair over to you as you pull your legs up under yourself, hands laid in your lap, and he reaches for them. You jump at the touch, and he frowns, but he doesn’t let go.

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” His eyes narrow again. “…Do you need me to fight someone? I’m not really good at that, but I’ll try.” 

You can’t help but laugh before dropping your gaze from his, looking down at your hands intertwined together.

"No, no fighting is involved."

"Oh, thank fuck. You know I'm not much of a fighter." You laugh again but it falls short, the nerves resurfacing again. Noah's lips dip into a frown. "Seriously, what's up?"

You pull your hands from his to wipe them against your pants, sighing deeply. How do you even bring this up? You practiced a script in your head for hours before even standing in front of his door, but now that you're in his room, and he's sitting right in front of you, it's like you've forgotten everything you wanted to say.

"You can't laugh." You finally say. "And you can say no. It's... a stupid favor, anyways, but you're one of the few people I wholeheartedly trust, so..." Your words trail off with a shrug and you look up at Noah again, seeing confusion written all over his face.

"You're acting weird again." His head tilts again and you keep in your laughter this time. He looks like a confused puppy. "Did you do something illegal?" His eyes widen a bit as he leans in. "...Are you in trouble? Am I going to be an accomplice? You know I wouldn't do good in jail, dude."

"Oh my god, Noah." Your hands come up to rub at your face, laughter spilling out of you. "I'm not in trouble and no one's going to jail."

"Then what is it? You're acting like it's something crazy."

"Because it is!" You whine, falling back onto his bed. Your eyes stare up at the ceiling, arms resting on either side of your body. "And it's fucking embarrassing."

"I've known you for like 6 years, I think I've seen every embarrassing thing you've done."

You hear his chair squeak and feel the bed dip beside you, but you don't bother looking over. You feel his body, heat radiating off of him, and you suck in a breath at the close proximity. You truly were never bothered by being close to Noah, but ever since you've thought of your silly request, just the thought of touching him has your head reeling. He lays beside you, propping himself up on his elbow. You manage to sneak a glance at him and he's already staring down at you, lips pursed.

"Talk to me."

You pout. "I'm nervous."

"Oh, please." He reaches down to flick at your forehead, and you yelp, eyes slitting into a glare at your friend. "It's just me."

You sigh, gazing back up at the ceiling. "Alright. Just... Please promise not to laugh. And remember you can say no."

"Got it. Now, what is it?"

"So..." You hum, eyes falling shut. "You know how I'm still like... I've never had sex with anyone?"

"Yes." Noah says. "Still shocked, by the way, but I support you. It's not for everyone and we all go at our own pace."

You flush at his words, eyes opening to stare at him again. "Why're you shocked?"

He shrugs. "Just am, but it’s not a bad thing. Like I said everyone goes at their own pace.”

"Right." You clear your throat. "It's not like I don't want to do it, it's just... it's never happened. I think..." Your eyes fall shut again, not being able to look at him anymore. "Anna said I might be one of those people that just need to do it with someone I already know. Someone I trust, so it's not as scary."

"Hm..." Noah shifts next to you. "You could be. That's not really unheard of, a lot of people are more comfortable having sex with someone they're already comfortable with."

"Yeah, right." You suck in a breath. "Well... I've been thinking about it recently. And um..." You reach up and cover your face with your hands, trying to hide the deepening flush to your cheeks. "I was thinking about who I trust enough to do that with and... I trust you more than anyone else. Probably even more than myself."

The silence that follows is almost deafening. You're sure it took him a moment to register his words and you know the second he does, the bed shifting beside you. Noah sits up and you can feel his eyes boring into you, and it makes your skin crawl. You can't pull your hands away from your face, too scared to even look at him. 

It was such a crazy thing to throw out there, you knew that. What's the worst he could say? No? Your mind kept replaying that over and over again and yeah, the worst he could say was no. However, you feared that maybe you asking him of this would make things awkward. You knew it wasn't a friendship ending type risky, but it was enough to maybe make the next few weeks stiff and weird. 

"Are you..." Noah pauses and you hear him suck in a breath. "Are you asking to have sex with me?"

"God, when you say it like that it sounds so fucking weird." 

By better judgement you pull your hands away from your face to look up at Noah, expecting the worse. Though, it's not bad at all actually. He looks confused, definitely, but he doesn't look too uncomfortable. His gaze is still soft as his eyes meet yours. 

"Why me?" He sounds shocked, as if there should be a hundred other options before him. 

"Well. I live with you, and you're my best friend." You say simply and shrug. "You're also the only person in this world I trust enough to be... vulnerable like that with. For my first time, at least."

He nods, tongue darting out to swipe as his bottom lip and your eyes can't help but follow the movement. Something low in your stomach stirs, heat rushing through you, and you tear your eyes away to gaze into his again. 

"You can say no," You remind him quickly, moving to sit up across from him. "It's a crazy favor. I won't take it to heart."

"I..." His words trail off and his lips press together, looking off to the side. "I don't know if we should." 

For some reason your heart sinks to your stomach. A part of you knew he would say no and knew that was the worst thing he could say, but there was some other part of you that clung on to the possibility. You just wanted to get it over with and you were hoping that maybe he would help you out... but you still understand his hesitancy.

"Of course, yeah." You nod your head quickly, face heating up again. "I shouldn't have even asked; I don't know what I was thinking."

"No-"

You get up from his bed and rush towards his door. "Forget it, okay? I'm sorry for making it weird."

You don't bother looking back at Noah, slipping out his door and practically running to your room across the hall, shutting your door behind you.

…

Later that night while you were getting ready for bed, Noah slips into your room. You freeze, turning to look at him as he stands in your door frame, wringing his hands in front of him nervously. 

“Okay. I thought about it some more.” 

You pause. “About what?”

“About… what you asked me.” Your skin heats up at his words and you start to shake your head, but he holds a hand up to stop you. “I’m really fucking flattered that you trust me that much to even consider me a possibility and… and if you still want to, I’ll do it. If it’ll make you happy.” 

The silence that follows was brutal. You weren’t sure how to take it, especially with the way Noah was looking at you. He seemed nervous, almost like you had been earlier, and it has something inside of your fluttering. Like a bunch of butterflies had been set free inside your tummy all at once. 

You swallow. “What?”

"I don't know, I just." He leans against the doorframe now, arms crossing over his chest. "The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Being vulnerable can be hard, especially during sex, and... part of me wishes my first time was with someone I trusted."

You stay silent, eyeing Noah from across the room and he finally looks up, eyes meeting yours. He gives you a gentle smile and goosebumps rise across your skin.

"Really?" You say dumbly and he laughs.

"Yeah." He shrugs. "I mean, do I regret it? Not really, but I think it would've made the experience better if it had been with someone I trusted and maybe had known longer than a few weeks." He slowly makes his way towards your bed and sits down on it, patting the spot next to him. Your feet move before you can even think, settling down next to him. "I also want your first time to be good. I know too many people whose first times were shitty, and I don't want that for you. If... if it's with me, I'll be able to make sure you're enjoying it, and not just doing it to say you did."

You notice the subtle flush on his cheeks, and you can't help but smile.

"I just need to know that this is really what you want because there's no going back after this." 

He reaches out to place a hand against your thigh, and you know it was supposed to be soothing, but the burning feeling it left against you was almost too much to handle. You nod quickly, eyes never leaving his.

"If I didn't want this I wouldn’t have asked, Noah." You say softly. "I've thought about it a lot and... and if I were to choose anyone in the entire world to do this with, it would be you."

Something in the air shifts after the words leave your mouth and you swear you see something cross in Noah's eyes, but it's gone before you could even think about it. You feel his fingers dip into your thigh for a split second before loosening, rubbing the spot he had dug into. 

"You're one hundred percent sure about this?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

You stare at him for a moment before your eyes linger down to his lips, before flicking back up to him. He noticed but didn't say a word, hand still rubbing your thigh. You nod. 

"Yes."

"Okay." He sucks in a deep breath after a moment and pulls away from you, the moment you two shared slipping away. Your stomach turns, almost missing the contact, but you scoot a bit from him anyways. "Okay, cool. Do you work this weekend?"

You raise a brow at him, head shaking. "No. Why?"

"I'm free most of Saturday and Sunday, so we could... uh, do it then."

"Oh." Your eyes widen. "You want to wait?"

"I mean, yeah. Us doing it now would be weird, right?" You think about it briefly before nodding. It would be odd to just dive into it now, you don't think you'd enjoy it that much. "This gives us time to... prepare? I don't know. Be less nervous? And it gives you a few days to really think about it."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swells in size at how concerned Noah was, making sure you were completely okay with your decision. 

"I've thought about it for almost a week now. I think I'm sure."

“Alright, no need to get fucking sassy with me.” He leans over to flick at your forehead, like he had done earlier, and you swat at his hand.

“I’m not even being sassy!”

“Whatever, dude.” Noah finally gets up from your bed and looks down at you, brows raising. “So, next weekend?”

“Um. Yeah. Next weekend.” You clear your throat, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible, and Noah nods.

“Alright. Cool.” He looks like he wants to say something else, lips pressing together before he shrugs it off, making his way towards the door. “Does pizza sound good for tonight?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Pizza.” He looks over his shoulder. “For dinner?”

“Oh.” You blink again, the sudden change in conversation taking you for a loop and you push yourself up off the bed. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Awesome. I’ll go ahead and order it and let you know when it’s here.”

You watch him slip out of your room, listening to his footsteps down the hall, and something in your tummy stirs as the realization of what’s happening finally settles in. What the hell did you just get yourself into?

…

You sat in the middle of your bed late Saturday evening, staring up at Noah as he stood at the end of your bed. You were still nervous, but not as nervous as you had been almost a week ago. Noah had been right - the more you thought about it and prepared yourself, the less scared you seemed to be. You can't lie and say all the nerves have gone away, because they sure as hell haven't, but looking at Noah right now, all you feel is comfort. 

"Feeling alright?" Noah's voice breaks you from your thoughts and you give him a small nod.

"Yeah." You hum, your hands spreading against your thighs. They were bare, the only thing you had on were some sleep shorts and an oversized shirt you typically slept in - probably Noah's. "Just nervous."

Noah gives you a smile as he crawls onto the bed towards you, your heart picking up under your chest. 

"It's okay to be nervous." He mumbles, sitting on his knees in front of you. You still have to tilt your head up just to look at him. "But it's just me, okay? I'll take care of you. I promise."

His words have your stomach turning, like a bunch of butterflies have just been released. Your skin heats up and you're sure your cheeks are flushed some sort of light pink, and Noah leans forward, his lips ghosting against your forehead. You take a deep breath and let your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, trying to ease your nerves.

"At any time you want to stop, you tell me, okay?" He says once he pulls back, hand coming up to rest beneath your chin, tilting your head back up. Your eyes open. "If it becomes too much, I need you to tell me. This is about you - not me. No egos will be shattered or anything."

"Okay."

"If it's alright with you, we can do the stop light method." He hums, hand never leaving your face. "Red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for keep going."

You stare at him, eyes already glossed over in a haze, and you nod in his hold. "I trust you."

He pauses, eyes scanning over your face one more time before he leans in again, lips pressing against your forehead more firmly. Your eyes slip shut once again and you lean into it, savoring it. You miss the feeling of his lips against your skin when he pulls away, letting his hand drop.

"Lean back for me."

You scoot up the bed and lean back, the back of your head pressing against your pillow. Noah stares down at you before nudging your legs open gently, leaning forward to hover over you. Your heart is thudding so loudly against your chest it's the only thing you can hear, and you swear Noah can too. And you suspect that he does, especially with the way his lips quirk up at the ends before his eyes catch yours.

"Just relax, okay?" His voice is much lower now and it has something in the pit of your stomach heating up, skin tingling. "You're in good hands."

"Promise?"

Usually you would tease him, since that was the nature of your relationship, but right now you feel too vulnerable. You need to know that you'll be okay with him, which you're sure you will, but hearing him say it out loud just makes you feel a little bit better.

His gaze softens. "I promise."

The look you two share has alarms going off in your mind, and your stomach turns in a way you've never felt before, yet you don't think you've ever felt safer in your life. You relax yourself against your bed, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

"Okay." You breathe out. "I trust you."

"Thank you." He actually sounds happy by your words, almost like he's proud, and he leans down, lips ghosting against the skin of your neck as he mumbles out, "I trust you, too."

You can't help the gasp that escapes you when he presses a handful of soft, barely there kisses along your neck. He has an arm propped up beside you to hold himself up, while the other is rested against your hip. He nudges your shirt up ever so slightly, the pads of his tattooed fingers brushing against your bare skin. By instinct your hands raise to reach for him, fingers tangling in his hair. You feel him press against you, a shaky breath leaving him and when the air hits your skin, you shiver.

Noah presses another kiss to your skin before he pulls back, sitting up on his knees. You stare up at him, lips parted as a gasp escapes you. The look in his eyes was almost too much, the usual softness in his brown eyes darkening. The hand that was on your hip pushed your shirt up more, letting it wrinkle up against your stomach.

"Can I take these off?" He questions, fingers now tugging at the waistband of your shorts.

You can only nod, words not being an option right now and your hips lift up on their own as he tugs your shorts down your legs. Your body shakes the second you're exposed, the only thing covering you now is your underwear. The cold air hits against your core and its damp, and you flush out of embarrassment. He's done nothing but kiss you and you're already wet. You try to shut your legs out of habit, but Noah was still seated between them.

"Hey," His voice is rough, but he leans down, meeting your eyes again. A hand rests against the top of your thigh, his fingers dipping dangerously close to the one spot you're aching for him to be. "You okay? You don't need to hide."

You nod again because nothing seems to come out and Noah shakes his head, hair moving around.

"Talk to me." 

Something in his tone has you shivering again, and you swallow. "I'm okay... just not used to this." 

"I understand." His eyes drop from yours down to his hand against your thigh, watching as he gently caresses the skin. You can't help but squirm when his fingers get a bit too close to where you want him, and he glances up at you, lips quirked up into a grin. "I promised to take care of you, and I'm going to."

"I know."

He doesn't respond, just gives you another grin before he slides his body down yours, nestling himself in between your legs. You've never had someone that close to that part of you before, the closest being a finger or two, and when Noah's tugging at the band of your underwear you have to look anywhere but him. Your hips rise off the bed, and you let him drag them down your legs, almost achingly slow, and your eyes lock onto the ceiling.

You're bare in front of him and just knowing that has your chest tightening, your throat closing up. Your fingers move back to the sheets beneath you, and you grip them tightly, squirming when you feel Noah's fingers drag up your thigh. You feel him shift, finger dragging closer and closer to your center, and then the brush of his lips against your inner thigh. You squeak.

“It’s okay.” He murmurs, so low you barely catch it. “Have you ever been fingered before?”

You nod, stiff and quick. “Mhm. Felt weird.”

“Probably because you were so tense.” Another quick kiss was pressed to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that.”

He starts off slow, a long, slender, tattooed finger sliding up and down your slit before he gently prods at your entrance. You suck in a breath when you feel him push in, body stiffening again. You've been fingered before, you're not that inexperienced, but it's always been uncomfortable. Not enjoyable. Noah senses your unease and presses a kiss to your hip, his free hand rubbing your thigh.

"Need you to relax, baby." His voice is muffled by your hip and the word baby has your entire body flushing. "It'll feel good when you do."

"How do I do that?" You whine out, fingers gripping the sheets. He pushes forward again, his finger now fully inside you. It feels... foreign. 

"Stop thinking so much." He lifts his head up and you sneak a glance down at him, his eyes blown wide, and lips pursed in a slight pout. "Think of something that relaxes you, because you're way too stiff right now."

You toss your head back against the pillow, huffing out, and Noah laughs softly to himself and scatters a few more kisses against your skin. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, body almost instantly melting into the mattress. 

"Keep doing that."

"Kissing you?" He mumbles, lips brushing over your hips again. You nod.

"Yes. Please."

"Atta girl," He mumbles, almost to himself when he pumps his finger inside of you, finally relaxing around him to make the action much easier than before. "I got you."

This goes on for a few minutes - soft, delicate kisses being placed along your skin as he worked a finger inside of you. As time went on, the odd and almost painful stretch from before became... pleasurable. You don't even notice the tiny noises slipping from your lips and your hips slowly rocking down to meet his finger.

"You think you can take another?"

You nod. A second finger slips in, and the stretch has you keening, back arching slightly off the bed. It wasn’t terrible, though. No, it felt good. So much better than your previous experiences. You clench around his fingers, and you hear Noah groan quietly, face pressing against the inside of your thigh to muffle the noise.

“Fuck.” You curse out when he picks his movements up, fingers now scissoring in and out of you.

“Feel good?” Noah sounds strained, like he’s trying to hold himself together even though you’re the one experiencing all the pleasure. You nod.

“Really fucking good.” You choke out, hips bucking down to meet his fingers. “Green. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, baby.” Noah mutters, not once letting up. “Doing so well for me.”

You practically purr at his words, your body warming up and feeling the fly all over. You’ve always been one to love a good bit of praise, and hearing it come from Noah was something you’d never imagined enjoying so much. A surprised gasp leaves you when you feel his thumb press against your clit, applying pressure while his fingers continued.

"You've ever been ate out before?"

Noah's words pull you away from the cloud you were just on, the pleasure coursing through your body. You whine, shifting your hips down to meet his fingers again but he stills his movements.

"No." You whimper. 

You wiggle your hips down to get some kind of friction, the heat that was beginning to pool in your tummy slowly slipping away. You hear Noah groan below you and he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, gently biting down on the soft plush of skin there.

"Can I be the first?" He breathes out, lips dancing across your skin. "Please. I'll make you feel so fucking good, I promise."

“Yeah,” You nod quickly, hips rolling down to gain some kind of friction again. “Please, just do something.”

That’s enough for him, diving headfirst between your thighs.

Noah leaves no mercy, his lips wrapping around your now swollen clit as his fingers begin moving inside you again. The feeling of his tongue wet and heavy against you and his long fingers pumping in and out of you has your eyes crossing, stars dancing around the edges of your gaze. You can't help but let another moan slip, hips bucking wildly. You feel Noah moan against you, angling his fingers up to press against something inside of you that's pulling an unexpected noise out of you, something mixed with a cry and a moan. You’ve never experienced pleasure like this before with another person.

The heat pooling in your returns much quicker than you thought and you feel yourself clench around his fingers, hips moving on their own accord. Noah moans again, tongue moving against you, and you swear you feel shifting at the end of the bed. You take a chance to glance down at Noah, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. You have to bite down on your bottom lip to hold in any noises and watch as Noah ruts his hips against the bed.

You’d never seen anything so insanely attractive before – Noah’s mouth working against you like a starved man and getting off on it to the point that he has to grind against the bed to get some kind of release. It’s enough to push you over the ledge, the heat in your stomach snapping and your cunt clenching around his fingers. You cry out, falling back onto the bed as your eyes squeeze shut. You’d experience orgasms before, but this was your first with another person, and it was probably the best damn orgasm you’ve ever had.

Noah doesn’t let up until you’re practically shaking, reaching down to curl your fingers into his hair and physically push him away. He laughs, light and airy, and turns his head to press a quick kiss to the side of your thigh before finally sitting up. You stare up at him with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath he took. You feel your heart pounding against your chest, ringing loudly in your ears as the realization of what just happened settles into your bones.

Noah just gave you one of the best orgasms of your life.

Your cheeks flush with color and before you could reach up and hide your face from him, he’s leaning down, hovering over you. You suck in a deep breath.

“Was that okay?” He questions softly, but you can hear the slight shake in his voice, and the look in his eyes was anything but soft.

You nod. “Better than okay.”

“Yeah?”

You watch a smile spread across his lips and find it hard to look anywhere but there, so you don’t, and you give him another nod.

“Do you wanna keep going?” He leans further down until your noses are barely touching and you’re doing everything in your power to pull him down and kiss the absolute fuck out of him.

You nod again, swallowing harshly. “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hums out a quiet noise of approval while brushing his nose against yours. You can’t stop yourself from smiling at the soft gesture while he sits up from the bed. You watch with hooded eyes as he pulls his shirt over his eyes and you let your gaze trail over him, not trying to hide the fact that you were indeed checking him out. You lived with him so of course you’ve seen him shirtless countless of times before, but now it was different. Much more intimate.

You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth as he’s pushing both his sweatpants and boxers down, crawling back towards you. You sit up and finally pull your shirt off as well, tossing it to the ground before lying back down, watching Noah reach over for the condom he had brought in with him, and you swallow down the nerves that were beginning to rise.

It’s now or never.

You meet his gaze again and the look he’s giving you, like he wants to devour you has a fire setting off inside of you. Your eyes drop to his achingly hard cock, watching as he rolls the condom on, and you squirm underneath him, fingers gripping the sheets below you. He grips his cock, long fingers wrapping around his length and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

You realize in that moment you’ve never wanted someone more than you do now, and that is definitely something you’ll have to unpack later. Right now, though, all you can think about is the way his slides the tip along your slit, teasing your entrance before pressing into your now sensitive clit. You whimper, hips wiggling down and Noah chuckles above you.

“Remember, red is for stop, yellow is for slow down, and green is for keep going. Okay?”

It takes you a minute to register his words, too focused on the way he looks above you, and you give a shallow nod. “Okay.”

“Good.”

Noah hikes your legs up around his waist and you circle them around him, unintentionally pulling him closer to you. The tip of his cock nudges against your entrance at that and you suck in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. He takes his time slipping in, going as slowly as he could, and you whine quietly, face scrunching up at the feeling. It was different than his fingers, much bigger, the stretch almost uncomfortable and not the same pleasurable feeling you had just moments before. You feel his body lean over yours when he finally presses in all the way, nose brushing against yours again.

“Look at me.”

You do, eyes opening to stare up at him. His voice sounded strained again, like he was holding himself back for you, and the look in his eyes has you melting into the bed. You stare up at him with wide eyes, not sure what to say, and he gives an experimental roll of his hips. You whine again, the stretch as his slide in and out of you has your back arching off the bed.

“Is this okay? Talk to me, baby.”

You give a small nod, another noise falling from your lips. “It’s okay, just… I’m yellow right now. Go slow, please.”

Noah let’s out a breath like he had been holding it and gave you a nod, giving another small roll of his hips before stilling inside of you. You have to shut your eyes because the way Noah was staring at you was almost too much, your chest feeling like a brick had been sat on it. You can’t believe that you were doing this, finally, and with your best friend no less.

He rests his arms on either side of you, leaning down to nose as your cheek before dipping his head down to press a few kisses against your neck. He nuzzled himself against you, letting one of his hands come down to rest against your hip, gently rubbing soothing circles against your skin.

“You’re already doing so good for me,” You hear him whisper, pressing another kiss to your neck. “Color?”

You flush, keening at his words and your back arches off the bed on its own, causing your hips to shift down and you fee his cock slide further inside of you. The head presses against that spot inside of you again and you let out an unexpected moan, pleasure finally sleeping through your veins. You clench around him, hips shifting down again, and he presses his face against your neck as a groan leaves him.

“Shit.” You breath out, hands coming up to card through his hair. “Green. I’m so fucking green.”

With another groan, Noah rolls his hips against yours and you moan again, eyes rolling back. The stretch of his cock no longer felt uncomfortable, pleasure coursing through you with each slow thrust Noah gives you. His lips never leave your skin, licking and biting at your neck with each roll of his hips.

He pulls back to press his forehead against yours, eyes boring into your own and you squeeze yours shut. Another moan leaves you as he gives a rather hard thrust, your fingers gripping the ends of his hair and tugging. He whimpers at the feeling and you tug again, wanting to hear those sounds fall from his lips more, and his movements speed up.

The heat you had felt in the pit of your tummy earlier was beginning to form again, warmth spreading through your chest. You open your eyes again just at the moment when Noah’s hand left your hip to slide in between both your bodies, rough fingers pressing against your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, a loud moan escaping you. The feeling of his fingers rubbing against your clit as his cock slides in and out of you was enough to make your head spin.

“You like that, baby?” He breathes out, lips dangerously close to your own. You nod quickly, whining out instead of answering properly. “Come on, you know I need words.”

“Fuck.” You choke out, a mix of a cry and a moan leaving you. “Feels so good. Please, don’t stop.”

This spurs him on, another whimper slipping from his lips as his hips snap into your own, pace picking up. You clench around his cock, the tip hitting the spot inside of you over and over again. His fingers never let up against your clit either, matching the pace his thrusts and you swear you feel dizzy, eyes rolling back. You’ve never felt like this before, and you think you prefer his cock inside of you over his fingers, the feeling unbeatable.

Your mind races just at the thought of Noah doing this for you, making you feel like this, wanting to take care of you, and your throat tightens for some reason. Something from deep inside your chest twists and you get the overwhelmingly need to be as close as possible to Noah, your fingers gripping the ends of his hair again.

“Noah.” You whimper out, eyes burning with unexpected tears.

“What is it, baby?” He grits out, eyes never leaving yours. His gaze softens when he notices your eyes watering, hips stuttering for a moment. “Are you okay? Tell me a color.”

You nod quickly, head knocking against his gently, and your hands drop from his hair to wrap around your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer to you.

“Yes, fuck. Green.” You moan, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat. “Just feels so fucking good. You make me feel so good, Noah.”

Your words just start pouring out, slurring together almost like you’re drunk, and your cunt clenches around him again. You’re close, so fucking close, you can feel it, and so can Noah.

“Yeah?” He whispers, lips brushing against your own. Your back arches as you give him another nod. “God, you feel so fucking good on my cock, baby. Everything I ever dreamed of.”

His fingers against your clit speed up, and you let out a choked moan at the feeling of the heat in your stomach snapping. The combination of his words and his thrusts, plus the pressure against your clit, has your orgasm hitting you at full force. You’re not sure what kind of noise leaves you, something primal pulling itself from your chest as your vision blurred again. You feel like your body was sent to heaven and back, the most euphoric feeling coursing itself through your veins as your orgasm washed over you.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

You hear Noah groan from above you as he fucked you through your orgasm. You don’t know what comes over you in that moment, but staring up at Noah as he chases his son release, you don’t think you’ve ever seen something so beautiful. Without thinking, you pull him down to you, lips sliding over his sloppily as he continued to fuck into you. A surprised noise leaves him, muffled by your lips, and with one last thrust you feel him still inside of you, spilling his release into the condom.

Silence follows after that, nothing but the sound of the two of you trying to catch your breath filling the room. Noah’s face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms are still tightly wrapped around him, holding his body against yours. That overwhelming feeling in your chest seems to return, but you can’t even fully think about it, your mind too hazy. You feel exhausted, limbs feeling like mush after two mind blowing orgasms, that you barley even register Noah pulling himself up and out of you slowly.

You watch with hooded eyes that are becoming too hard to even keep open as Noah crawls off the bed, sliding the condom off and throwing it away, searching your room for his boxers before slipping them on. It’s a blur after that, Noah looking for the cloth he had brought in, probably to clean you off, and you barely remember him getting back on the bed, slowly pulling you up to slip clean clothes on your body.

Your back meets the bed again as you flop back down, curling yourself into your bed. It’s never felt comfier, you think, as you feel Noah curl up behind you, pulling your blankets over both of your bodies. His arm feels heavy over your waist, and his lips leave a burning feeling against the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss there.

The last thing you remember is your fingers curling around your hand that rests against your stomach, whispering out, “Thank you,” as sleep finally overtakes you.

[daddyhausen]

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 KINKTOBER DAY TWELVE : CAUGHT MASTURBATING 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 KINKTOBER 2023 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — you never expected your roommate to finally catch you in the act

「 WARNINGS 」 — smut, 18+ [ minors do not interact ] voyeurism, exhibitionism, use of sex toys, female masturbation, squirting, fingering, friends to lovers/ friends with benefits, vaginal sex, penetrative sex rough/soft sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 1.5k

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x la knight

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @adamjf @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @violetmacher @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @ripleyswife @selena-tyler-564 @auburnwrites

「 BETA READERS 」 — @allelitesmut + @legit9thlunaticwarrior

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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you could not contain yourself.

it was unbearable, thoughts of him flooding your memory as your hand became present between your thighs, gently coaxing and teasing yourself through your panties.

it had plagued you for weeks now.

you could not stand to be around him for fear you'd act on your impulses, something which you'd dearly regret

you let your hand slip beneath the fabric, your clit sensitive to the touch of your cool fingertips

your body jolted at the sensation slowly tracing circles into the bundle of nerves

"fuck..." you mutter softly, fingertips dipping between your folds, spreading your glossy wetness across your skin

the door to your room left slightly ajar purposefully.

i mean it would not be a bad thing if he were to catch you

after all you've caught him masturbating plenty of times, so seeing each other in such a state of nakedness had become normal at this point

in a way, you kinda hoped he would catch you, finally allow this torment of you to be put to rest.

your whimpers rumbling low in your throat, bleeding out through the crack in the door in the hopes he'd hear you

as your fingers dipped deeper into your sex, you could not help but let your mind wander

imagining his cock stuffed deep inside of you, your cunt gripping his length tightly

you let your free hand fall to your breast groping the pillowy flesh

feeling your nipple peak and harden against your palm through the fabric of your... well his oversized t-shirt

the fabric still held his scent, like cedarwood with slight traces of mint hidden underneath

inhaling deeply as you took in the scent of him, overcome by arousal

your skin flushed with heat, body warmed by pleasure, with a need to be completely bare in order to enjoy the full experience

as much as you did not want to part with his shirt, his scent still faintly lingering in your nostrils, you pried the fabric from your flesh

you skin slightly sticky with perspiration

your body now exposed, nipples peaking as soft breaths of air fanned across them from your lips as you gazed down at you fingers slowly starting to pump your tight pussy

knowing that your fingers won’t be enough to satisfy your needs tonight, you reached into your bedside draw, fingers still filling your cunt

prying your favourite dildo from its confines

it was a peachy flesh tone, about six or so inches in length, roughly four in girth

come to think of it, it was very reminiscent of his cock

you pried your fingers from your warmth, sticky ropes of sweetness clung to your fingers, making the digits shimmered under moonlight so beautifully

bringing your fingers to your mouth, tasting yourself, wondering if he would like the way you tasted

slowly, you replaced your fingers with the toy, allowing your tiny cunt to stretch around its length as you pushed it further into you

“oh please... please fuck me” you moaned loud enough for him to hear

you let the visions take over, him hovering over you, his fat cock absolutely destroying your insides, his hot cum leaking out of you once he's finished

your eyes squeezed shut, trying to recreate that thought, slamming the dildo in and out of your void

"oh fuck yes!" you cried out through a breathless moan, completely unaware of exactly how loud you had become

you were on the edge, on the cusp of release when his voice fluttered through your ears

"so this is what you do when i'm not home?” he questions with a sly smirk, standing in your doorway

his body leaned against the door frame, a visible erection in his imprinted in the towel loosely wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp from the shower, beads of water trickling

down his perfectly sculpted figure, shimmering like pearls in the sunlight

you had not even noticed his return

let alone heard the shower running in the bathroom next door with haste, you tried to cover yourself to save the embarrassment

“oh come on toots, its nothing, i haven't seen before”

he made his way to the foot of your bed, palms placed firmly into the mattress, leaning over slightly

“and put that thing away” he mentioned to the dildo still nestled between your tight, dripping folds

“you and i both know my cock can fuck you better”

he reaches between your thighs, prying the toy from your void

the silicone drenched in your wetness, he had to resist from letting a droplet of your sweetness to fall onto his tongue

he shuddered in delight, letting the droplet roll down his throat as he swallowed

you whimpered feeling empty as your cunt pulsed and throbbed around nothingness

the discomforting emptiness was soon replaced by two of his large fingers slowly curling and gathering your juices

“don't fight it, sugar” he noticed the way your cunt tightly gripped his fingers, in awe of how wet you were

“thats it, good girl...” he hummed through soft praises, beginning to pump and curl his fingers with a more succinct rhythm

“this is a dream come true for you, huh? being slutted out by your own damn roommate?” he began, pausing mid-sentence to gage your reaction

“wonder how many times you've fucked that pretty cunt to me?” it was a question and not a hypothetical one answer me, sugar

you tried to regain your composure, an absence of words, breath getting caught in your throat as you tried to answer

your orgasm spilling over without warning

he marvelled at the way you drenched your bedsheets, along with his fingers

“i'll take that as a lot” he smirked, licking his lips before bringing his soaked fingers up to them

hesitating for a moment after giving the tips of the digits a small kitten lick

he eyed you quickly then back to his fingers, bringing them from his lips to your own

allowing you to sample your own sweetness like you had done many times before

yet it felt different with him, far more erotic than you initially anticipated

you couldn't help but squirm at the arousal bubbling in your belly once more

his tip drew shapes against your pulsing clit, your folds silky and glistening with wetness

“just so you know, i'm not gonna go easy on you” he remarked, the faintest whisper of a smirk crossing your lips

“i wouldn't have it any other way” you beamed with a soft breathless response, feeling the tip of his cock tease you entrance

he slipped in with relative ease, only minor resistance on your part on account of his size

completely adoring the way you had to squirm and writhe to fit all of him in

he gave a quick thrust for good measure, bottoming out as the axis of your hips collided together

“oh fuck-” you groaned with a gasp, cunt tightening around his cock from the sudden force

he couldn't help but let pride spread through him at your reaction

“shit doll, my dick that good huh?” he leaned over you groping your breasts

haven't even started and your already acting cock drunk he began kneading the cloud-like flesh, your nipples stiffened and peaked against his large palms

“please…” you gasped “please just fuck me”

he smiled down softly at you, leaving down to plant wet kiss to the supple mound of each of your breasts, and one between the valley

“anything for you, sugar”

he snapped his hips again, this time more vicious than the last

his hands retreated from your breasts, down to your hips, legs instantly wrapping around his waist

your hips angled up slightly, that combined with the short, rapid movements of his own, created the most breathtaking pressure

“yes! oh my god!, harder fuck me harder, please”

your pleasured screams filled the room and sounded like the sweetest of melodies to him

he remained silent, obliging with your request as he fucked you, deeper, harder, faster

“oh fuck yes!” your back arched, cunt stretching around his size with a familiar pulse

“god baby, keep squeezing me like that- fuck- i wont last”

his breathless pants heavy in his chest, a thin layer of sweat leaving his skin glistening

“oh god, fuckfuckfuck- im gonna cum!” your screams were heaven to him, watching your hand fall to your clit

rubbing the swollen nub vigerously to send yourself over the edge, squirting around his cock

with each thrust be gave, your wetness would expel from your void in waves, ruining your sheets

“oh shit” he groaned his cock twitching with release, his orgasm exploding in your warmth, seed pumped deep inside your womb

he pulled out, rolling over, staring absentmindedly up at the ceiling for a few seconds

you felt his cum leaking from between your thighs, quickly pushing the warm viscous liquid back into your cunt, not wanting to waste a single drop

“holy shit..." he exhaled followed by a small chuckle in disbelief

“what's the matter?” you questioned, rolling over onto your side beginning to stroke his softening cock

he groaned, cock still sensitive at the unexpected contact

“i think, i’m in love with you”

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[sillygoose067]

A Masked Promise

Ch.15

Dick Grayson(Nightwing) x Reader

It was the kind of night that made you want to hide under the covers and never come out.

Dick’s text had caught you off guard, though it had no right to. He’d asked you to come with him to Gotham for a fundraising gala hosted by Bruce Wayne, and the more you thought about it, the more anxious you became. The whole thing felt out of your league—beyond your world entirely. The glittering lights, the fancy clothes, the wealthy people. It wasn’t just about meeting Bruce Wayne, someone you’d only ever heard about in passing. It was about being thrust into a world you didn’t belong to, surrounded by people you didn’t know, in an environment you couldn’t even imagine yourself fitting in.

You spent the better part of the evening pacing around your apartment, your mind a swirl of questions and uncertainties. How could you possibly fit in at a place like that? What would you wear? Your closet was filled with casual clothes—nothing even close to what you’d need for something like this. You didn’t even have the budget for anything remotely fancy.

After a while, you ended up texting him back, though your hands trembled as you did. “I don’t know, Gray… I’m not sure I’m the kind of person who belongs at an event like that.”

You almost expected him to text back with an insistence, a plea, or even a little joke to make you feel better. But when his reply came, it was simple, reassuring.

“Hey, I wouldn’t ask you to come if I didn’t want you there. Besides, I’d feel better having you with me. So, what do you say?”

His words, just like him, were steady and warm, like a quiet anchor. They had a way of easing your worries, even if only for a moment. Still, there was a sinking feeling in your stomach. There were so many unknowns. So many things that seemed far beyond your reach.

With a sigh, you typed out your response. “Okay, I’ll go. But what do I even wear? I don’t have anything fancy, and I’m not exactly rolling in money to buy something.”

You almost expected him to respond with an insistence, a plea, or even a little joke to make you feel better. But when his reply came, it was simple, reassuring.

“I’ll take care of everything, so you don’t have to worry about the details. You just need to show up.”

The certainty in his message should’ve made you feel better. Instead, you only grew more anxious. You could practically hear the doubts swirling in your mind—was he just being polite? Would he regret bringing you along when you felt so out of place?

You debated the idea for hours, wringing your hands, pacing from room to room. Finally, after a moment of silence, you sighed deeply, knowing there was no way you could back out now. You’d agreed, even if it meant stepping into something that felt too big for you.

…

When you met Dick the next day, he seemed completely at ease, and that made you feel even more out of place. You’d barely said hello before he was pulling you toward the jet, insisting you get on board. And just as you were getting ready to step into the sleek aircraft, the weight of everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

As the jet took off toward Gotham, you couldn’t shake the nerves gnawing at you. Once you landed, you were whisked away by Dick to the most luxurious private boutiques, the kind that didn’t just carry expensive clothes but felt like an exclusive club of unattainable luxury.

The idea of trying on anything in those shops felt like a joke. You could barely breathe as the prices on the labels stared back at you, as if daring you to touch them, let alone wear them. Each dress you picked out felt more like an insult to your budget, yet Dick was so insistent.

You finally emerged from the fitting room, dressed in a deep red gown that made your heart race when you looked at yourself in the mirror. The moment you stepped out, Dick’s eyes softened. He stared at you, mouth slightly open in appreciation.

“You look amazing,” he said. And he meant it, there was no hesitation, no reservation. But when you looked at the price tag, your stomach flipped over.

“I can’t,” you said, voice faltering. “This is ridiculous. I can’t let you spend this kind of money on me.”

Dick just shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “You don’t have to worry about it. I told you, I’m taking care of everything. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is!” you protested, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s too much. I don’t care if you have the money. I can’t just take something this expensive from you. It’s not right.”

You could feel your chest tightening with anxiety as Dick stepped closer, placing a hand gently on your shoulder. “Y/n, please,” he said softly, his voice low and calming. “I want to do this for you. Let me spoil you a little. You deserve it.”

You shook your head, stubbornness setting in. “I can’t let you buy me a dress that costs more than my rent, Gray. I won’t do it.”

He gave you that look again, the one that was both teasing and unwavering. “I’m not asking for permission, Y/n. This is happening. And whether you like it or not, I’m buying this dress for you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat as he turned to the assistant and handed over his credit card, the swiping of it sounding final and unwavering. You stood there, feeling caught between gratitude and frustration, your fingers clenching into fists at your sides.

“Gray, stop,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. “I can’t take this.”

“I’m not asking you to take anything,” he said as he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m giving it to you, because you deserve it. And I’m doing this because I want to.”

As the assistant rang up the dress, you finally gave in, the knot in your chest loosening just slightly. It was like being caught between a rock and a hard place. You didn’t want to accept something so lavish, but Dick wasn’t letting you argue anymore.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, knowing it wasn’t enough to truly express how much you appreciated his gesture.

Dick just smiled and winked at you. “No need to thank me.”

“Okay,” you said reluctantly, though you still felt an unease settle in your chest. “But I’m still paying you back for whatever this costs, you know.”

He chuckled softly. “You can try, but you’ll lose.”

As the day went on, you allowed yourself to relax, letting the bubble of luxury wrap itself around you. But deep inside, a small part of you still couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of being in a world far beyond your own.

…

When you arrived at Wayne Manor, the towering estate seemed to rise before you like a fairytale castle—too grand, too perfect, too… intimidating. Dick grinned as he glanced over at you, clearly used to this world, while you could feel your nerves tightening at every step toward the front door. The deep hum of the massive estate and its grandiose architecture was almost surreal, like stepping into a dream you weren’t sure you should be a part of.

Alfred was waiting at the entrance as you walked through the heavy oak doors, his impeccable manners offering a sense of warmth that helped calm your racing heart.

“Miss Y/n, welcome to Wayne Manor,” Alfred greeted with a smile, his voice as kind as it was refined. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

“Thank you,” you said, forcing a smile as your eyes glance around the entrance hall. It was bigger than anything you could have imagined—grand marble floors, intricate tapestries, and walls that seemed to hum with history. You felt incredibly out of place, like a speck in this vast, polished world.

Dick, noticing your discomfort, gently nudged you as you followed Alfred further into the manor. “Relax. You’ll be fine,” he whispered, his presence grounding you even in the overwhelming splendor around you.

…

The grandeur of Wayne Manor wrapped around you like an overwhelming presence—beautiful and imposing, but entirely alien. You felt like a small piece of driftwood in a vast ocean, untethered and unsure. Every polished banister, every glittering chandelier seemed to echo the sentiment that this wasn’t your world.

Alfred’s warm demeanor, however, was a balm to your unease. He guided you through the endless halls with an ease that came from decades of familiarity, narrating pieces of history and quirks about the manor that made you feel, if only a little, more welcome. You listened intently, but your nerves kept you glued to Dick’s side, his occasional hand brushing against yours grounding you like an anchor.

When Alfred brought you to Dick’s childhood room, you stopped in the doorway, startled by how ordinary it was compared to the opulence of the rest of the manor. It wasn’t enormous or extravagant—it was cozy, filled with pieces of his past. A well-worn bookshelf stood by the window, a few framed photos sat atop a modest desk, and the faint scent of cedar lingered in the air.

“This was your room?” you asked softly, stepping in as Dick leaned casually against the doorframe.

“Yup. This is where the magic happened,” he quipped with a small grin, his eyes lighting up as he took in the familiar space.

Alfred cleared his throat, his expression neutral but his tone tinged with subtle amusement. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing this room for both of you during your stay.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes widening. “Both of us?”

Your cheeks flushed as Alfred exited with a nod. Dick’s calm demeanor only made you more flustered, but he placed a hand gently on your back, guiding you further inside.

“See? Cozy, right?” he asked, plopping down onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh, arms stretched wide as if to claim it. “Welcome to my humble beginnings.”

You snorted, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed. “Humble? Pretty sure this room is still bigger than my entire apartment.”

He grinned up at you, propping himself up on his elbows. “Oh, come on. You’re not giving it the full experience. This place has stories.”

“Yeah? Like what?” you asked, turning slightly to face him.

He pushed himself up fully, settling beside you and gesturing dramatically to the window. “That window right there? That’s where I made my grand escape after Bruce grounded me for trying to do a triple backflip off the second-floor balcony.”

You gasped, half in disbelief, half laughing. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” he said, his grin widening. “And let’s just say that Alfred wasn’t thrilled when he found me tangled in the ivy. Bruce was less than amused too.”

You shook your head, laughing as you relaxed a little more. “You were a menace, weren’t you?”

“A lovable menace,” he corrected, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“Debatable,” you teased, nudging him back.

The two of you fell into a rhythm, trading stories—his of daring escapades around the manor, yours of your quieter childhood memories. He listened to you with an attentiveness that made your chest ache, like he was savoring every word.

At one point, he shifted, his arm draping casually around your shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You stiffened at first, not used to the closeness, but his touch was warm and familiar, melting away the tension in your muscles.

“Comfortable?” he asked softly, glancing down at you.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding, resting your head against his chest. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, his hand brushing gently along your arm in slow, soothing motions. “You know, I never thought I’d bring someone here,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a vulnerability that made your heart tighten. “But it feels… right, having you here. Like this place isn’t so heavy when you’re around.”

The sincerity in his words sent warmth flooding through you. You tilted your head to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “I’m glad you wanted me to be here,” you said softly, your fingers grazing his where they rested against your arm.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You make everything feel lighter, even here, where it’s always felt… complicated.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the rest of the world fading into nothing. “I’m just happy you feel that way,” you replied, your voice trembling with the softness of the moment.

He smiled gently, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple. “I don’t just feel it—I know it,” he said.

You stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s presence, his arm holding you close as you let the stillness settle between you.

“I like it here,” you murmured eventually, your voice sleepy but content.

Dick’s smile widened as he tightened his arm around you. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I like having you here. A lot.”———————————————————————————-

TAGLIST:

@mybones537 @thereeallink @ziziriaa-blog

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

Moar Buddy Dawn Shit in relation to this post

Buddy was dead for about 10 to 15-maybe-20 minutes. Kristen and Gorgug at the top of Freshman Year were only dead about 3 to 5 minutes and they still got some form of time in the afterlife, (side note: Gorgug not knowing what Orc Heaven looks like and being Deeply Fucking Terrified and shellshocked by the entire experience is So Juicy To Me, like. Something that should by all rights be familiar to him being foreign. Of deep spiritual significance, but not in the way it was 'supposed to be'; he didn't even know how it was 'supposed to be' at the time or after he learned it, he's still not really sure if it was ever a 'supposed to'.) so I'm quite sure Buddy experienced Something beyond the grave and chose to leave it for this nameless aspect of Ankarna. The version of her which exists as a result of her complete death and incomplete resurrection/preservation.

In that 10 to 15 minutes, Buddy passed into the place he was going. Perhaps some cornfield out on the edge of Helio's domain where Helio figured 'I'll get to him or he'll find me sometime, there's literally infinite time here'. Perhaps as a petitioner on the Astral Sea- wait, no, I'm thinking about Rolling With Difficulty cosmology, the Astral Realm is not a sea in Fantasy High. (also go listen to Rolling With Difficulty) Regardless of if he went to the afterlife the adults all told him he'd go to if he'd been a good boy or to some more limbo-like place, he had just enough minutes for the reality to sink in that he's Dead. He's dead and the feeling of a hand gripping his shoulder as if to hoist his assailant high enough to slit his throat presses like a cold weight on his skin. As if this body has skin, no, he's just a solid soul given form in this place.

So jarring. Resting dead in some corner of the cosmos like finding the one empty room at a big loud party where you've mostly been taking things in, sticking close to people you know, not doing anything you're not supposed to. Sitting down on the unfamiliar furniture or swaying idly in place as you listen to the murmur of this foreign world around you. Only it's not like that, not truly at all. You're not at the party anymore, the echoes of your life aren't some thing you're taking a break from to rejoin or building up the nerve to excuse yourself from to get a proper change of scene. There is no going back or moving forward.

He's dead. Buddy Dawn is dead.

How many minutes did it take him to lose composure? Did he even? When the ultimatum was posed to him, did he harden his heart to any regrets about abandoning his original faith, or did he relax into knowing he could live again, in service of something that reached for him and he reached back towards?

Why was he so chipper saying 'Dang, y'all, I worship a nameless god of rage.'? He didn't sound horrified by his decision in much the same way he didn't sound in touch with reality when he said 'Sometimes I raise my hand and magic that burns folks to a crisp comes out, but that's just the lord Helio working through me.' His death didn't change him so much as it fixed his gaze onto something new.

He is still a Cleric. Through and through. His soul needs a divinity to latch onto. And this is the first time he has latched onto a divinity wholly and completely for himself. He was not taught how to live for himself. He was taught how to live and die for a cause. For Helio. He earns a nice afterlife via sacrificing his autonomy to whatever the church tells him is good and right.

But he doesn't want a nice afterlife.

He wants another life.

And he no longer has faith that Helio will deliver him from any hardship, because even after he's just barely grasped how dead he is and has been for the past 11 minutes, his soul is wrent into an ultimatum by a different power. Go back to his body and continue living under a new banner, or be trapped in a dark, solitary purgatory which his soul may never be free from.

It's an easy decision, really. Barely requires any thought, only following a feeling. He no longer wants to stand by the god who allowed him to die so unceremoniously and so unfairly. He honestly feels more betrayed by Helio than he does by Kipperlily. Kipperlily hardly made any promises to him, just asked for him to be the party's cleric. He never expected her to do that, sure, but... His whole life he was promised that every bad emotion he ever felt in response to every wrongness in his life would (should, must, has to) simply evaporate away in the golden light of the corn god. And it's been an eternal 12 minutes, but he only feels worse and worse.

And if all Helio could promise him was a flat expanse of farmland overseen by someone who didn't even properly greet him when he walked in (if the celestial bureaucracy were even doing their jobs and funneled the soul of Helio's cleric to Helio instead of some cosmic waiting room or other), but this nameless deity can promise him a life for himself? Then by god he's taking that ultimatum, come back to life, sit up with a slightly surprised little smile and announce to the world (as he has been taught is right to do when you are devoted to a god) 'I worship a nameless god of rage!'

And he'll be happy with this choice-that-is-not-a-choice which he was betrayed and coerced into. Because it truly feels self indulgent to choose anything. To choose ragefully living for himself instead of obediently dying for an unfulfilling promise. He'll choose the intensity and the darkness because the gentle constant pressure cooker of walking in the light gave him nothing but sunburns and a slit throat.

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello! Can we get some headcanons of the jofoes when it's their partners first time? I'm not asking for anything too descriptive if you're uncomfortable with that.

Yepp no problem! Also sorry for taking a minute on these, but here are the HCs! thank you for requesting

Jojo villains x virgin reader- nsfw ish but not explicit

Dio

Dio is naturally confident and seductive, but when he realizes it’s your first time, he becomes more patient.

He enjoys being in control and takes pride in guiding you through everything, ensuring you’re comfortable while teasing you. He’ll start slow just to see you squirm around a bit, dragging out your anticipation.

"How fortunate for you that I’ll be the one to show you pleasure," he purrs, his voice low and sultry.  

His possessiveness flares up as he relishes being your first and only.

He’s amazing at reading your body, gauging every twitch and sigh as confirmation to continue.  

- By the end, you're left trembling, and Dio smirks, knowing noone else will ever make you feel this way. Not that he’d let anyone get close enough to try.

Kars

Kars is both calculating and attentive, wanting to ensure your first time is as flawless as everything else he does. He approaches the situation with a calculated but undeniably primal energy. 

He studies your reactions meticulously, adjusting his approach to what makes you feel the most aroused.

Kars doesn’t waste time with romantic platitudes, instead, his focus is entirely on guiding you into pleasure with relentless precision. 

His voice is smooth and reassuring, reminding you that there’s no rush. "You will remember this as nothing less than perfect," he promises.

His hands are firm, confident, and he takes pride in the way your body responds to him.  

“Your trust is a gift I do not take lightly.”

By the end, he’s quite satisfied that he’s made your experience perfect, though he won’t say it outright.

Wamuu

Wamuu approaches the situation with honor and respect, sensing the gravity of the moment for you.

“I will be gentle,” he promises sincerely, his voice steady but soft.

He almost the experience like an oath he must uphold with honor.  

He’s incredibly attentive, constantly checking in to ensure you’re comfortable.

"I will not let you regret this decision," he vows, his voice low but resolute.  

His touch is careful and reverent, as though you’re something sacred to him (you are).

His touch is careful at first, large hands cradling your body as though afraid of hurting you.  

But once he senses your trust, Wamuu lets go of his restraint, moving with raw strength and passion. His focus never wavers as every movement is deliberate, aimed at ensuring you feel both safe and completely overwhelmed by him.  

Afterward, he holds you close, silently vowing to protect you always, proud of the bond you now share.  

Esidisi

Esidisi’s usual intensity is tempered by surprising tenderness.

“You are sure this is what you want?” he asks earnestly.

He’s deeply attentive, making sure you’re comfortable and relaxed.

His touch is gentle at first, fingers tracing your skin as he watches your reactions intently.  

However, once he senses your growing need, his restraint crumbles, and his movements become more passionate and demanding.  

"You have nothing to fear from me," he promises, his voice low and soothing.  

He guides you confidently, whispering encouragements in a husky tone, his breath hot against your skin.  

Esidisi thrives on your reactions, pushing you further until you're completely undone beneath him.  

Afterward, he holds you close, his emotions simmering just beneath the surface as he marvels at the trust you’ve placed in him.

Kira

Kira is meticulous and controlled, wanting your first experience to be as flawless as possible.

Unlike many of the others, he doesn’t have a whole lot of experience himself (only having really “dated” hands), so he’s patient with every touch, both ensuring you feel safe and to ease his own slight nerves..

“There’s no need to rush. We’ll go at your pace.”

Despite his usually cold demeanor, he’s surprisingly gentle, his precision working in your favor.

"We'll take this slowly," he says calmly.

Afterward, he quietly takes care of you, smoothing down your hair and ensuring you’re comfortable.

His hands are steady, exploring your body with an obsessive focus on detail, learning exactly what you like

He’s deliberate in everything he does, from the way he moves against you to the way his breath brushes your ear.  

Since this is your first time, he tries to calm it down with the hand fetish, but he would really love it you touch him, put a couple fingers in his mouth, or just let him hold them

Afterward, he quietly takes care of you, smoothing down your hair and adjusting the sheets, ensuring you’re comfortable.

Diavolo

Diavolo is intense but surprisingly patient when he realizes it’s your first time.

“You will trust me completely by the end of this,” he promises.

His possessive nature becomes even more clear as he claims you, relishing being your first.

His approach is intense and unapologetically dominant. He doesn't hesitate, reading your body expertly and pushing you just far enough to have you wanting- needing more.  

His touch is firm, almost rough, but he never crosses the line into discomfort. He wants you to remember this as both overwhelming and exhilarating.  

Despite his usual ruthlessness, he’s careful not to overwhelm you, though his eyes never lose their intensity.

Doppio

Doppio is a bit nervous when he learns it’s your first time, not wanting to ruin it for you, but very sweet, constantly checking in with you and loving when you tell him how he’s making you feel.

“Does that feel good, tesoro?”

He blushes slightly at your expressions but remains attentive, wanting the experience to be perfect for you.

"Tell me if I’m doing this right," he whispers, his voice breathless.  

His sweetness quickly gives way to determination as he becomes more confident, guided by your reactions.  

His earnestness and gentle demeanor make the experience both reassuring and overwhelming- in a good way.

Enrico Pucci

Pucci approaches the situation with a deep sense of reverence.

“This is a moment of trust and connection,” he says softly, both to himself and to you, as though it’s sacred.

He’s gentle, guiding you with patience and care, his voice soothing as he reassures you throughout.

He speaks softly throughout, offering both reassurance and subtle encouragements.  

Despite his stoic nature, he treats you with tenderness, cherishing the vulnerability you share with him.

"Trust in me," he murmurs, his voice steady and reassuring.  

Despite his composed exterior, there’s a heat beneath the surface that emerges as the night progresses, his movements becoming quicker and less restrained.

Afterward, he holds your hand in bed, quietly reflecting on the bond you’ve just formed. Pucci ensures you feel completely taken care of, as though this moment was always fated to happen.  

Funny Valentine

Valentine is pretty traditional and respectful.

“You honor me with your trust,” he says, taking the moment seriously.

He moves at your pace, his usual commanding demeanor softened by the genuine care he feels towards you.

He maintains control throughout, but there���s a quiet passion in the way he moves, his usually stoic demeanor giving way to something more raw.  

His touch is steady and deliberate, making you feel safe and cherished. His movements precise as he guides you through every step.  

He stares at you as he moves, both physically in the moment and mentally calculating, as his goals never fully leave his mind, even in these moments.

Valentine doesn't waste time with unnecessary words- he will ensure your pleasure with efficiency.  

Afterward, he wraps you in his arms, vowing to protect and cherish you always.

Diego Brando

Diego is cocky at first, teasing you lightly about being inexperienced.

“You’ve got good taste, choosing me for your first.”

However, when he realizes how important this is to you, he becomes more serious and attentive, his competitive nature driving him to make your first time unforgettable.  

"You sure you can handle me?" he asks, his sharp canines catching the light.

He’ll start gentle, guiding you with a confidence that never feels overbearing.

He loves drawing out your reactions, using every touch and movement to push you further.  

His lips, teeth, and hands are relentless, fueled by the desire to hear you fall apart beneath him.  

By the end, he’s smug but makes an effort to be more affectionate, brushing your hair back and letting you cling to him if you need. "Told you I’d ruin you for anyone else."  

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Chapter sixteen | my mercy prevails over my wrath

masterlist

pairing : battinson x fem!oc (can be read as x reader)

words : +4k

A/N : time to meet the Incel :)

previous chapter

MY MERCY PREVAILS OVER MY WRATH.

My mercy prevails over my wrath. My mercy prevails over my wrath.

Like a gentle river flowing over jagged stones, softening the edges of anger with its quiet touch, Maryam's mercy mirrors the myth of Persephone's return from the underworld—a bittersweet act that tamed Hades' darkness and brought renewal to a barren earth. It is the calm before the storm, a silent strength rising from deep within, soothing the fury that seeks to consume, much like how Psyche's love melted Eros' hidden sorrow. In its embrace, Maryam finds not weakness, but the power to choose forgiveness over vengeance, understanding over judgment, as Prometheus chose the fire of hope over the vengeance of the gods. 

It is, after all, the whisper of compassion that drowns out the roar of resentment, a light that flickers brightly, even in the darkest of storms. 

And in that light, Maryam is reminded that mercy, like love, holds the strength to heal what wrath can only break—an enduring myth of its own.

And so the words echo softly in her mind, rising like an incantation against the darkness. The same words her father once whispered to her in hushed tones, so long ago that she can barely recall the timbre of his voice, though the warmth of those moments lingers still.

My mercy prevails over my wrath.

The mantra repeats.

My mercy prevails over my wrath.

A sacred Hadith, her father had called it—a divine reminder that compassion, forgiveness, and hope are not signs of weakness, but profound sources of strength.

The words echoed through Maryam's mind, a steady rhythm that refused to fade. Had she been too blunt? Too harsh? Too unpredictable with Bruce?

She replayed their conversation in her thoughts, dissecting every word, every glance, every pause. Doubt began to creep in, coiling around her resolve. Mercy. Wrath. Wraith. Where did she stand? What did he see in her ?

Her guilt gnawed at her. Bruce had a way of looking at her—calm, unyielding, as though he could see the fractures she tried so hard to hide. She hated that look. It was too understanding, too patient, as if he saw past her barbs and coldness, straight to the girl she used to be before Gotham had hardened her edges.

But tonight, she had gone too far—or perhaps just far enough to undo everything. The flicker of hurt in his eyes haunted her, like a candle flame struggling against the wind, snuffed out too quickly by the familiar mask of stoic indifference he wore so well. 

Especially when she mentioned his parents. 

"Going out at night, beating up petty criminals. For what? Vengeance? For who? Your parents?"

"Would they have wanted this? To go down that twisted path? I didn't know them—but you did. So, you tell me."

The words tasted bitter as she recalled them, sharp and cruel in hindsight. It wasn't her place to say this. She knew it, and he knew it too. The way he had said her name after she blurted it out—"Maryam"—was all the proof she needed. 

Not the usual soft Maryam, not even Milou. It was clipped, cold, severing. A verbal knife that cut through the space between them.

Gone were those names, those anchors to their fragile intimacy. She had struck a nerve—deeply, unflinchingly—and Bruce, for all his walls and armor, could not hide it.

Not for the first time, no. She had tested his patience before, pried open wounds he had thought long buried. But this time felt different. Final. As if the thread tethering them together had frayed beyond repair, leaving only the jagged ends to mock what once was.

Her hand brushed absentmindedly over the spot where his lips had grazed her skin—an afterthought of a kiss, empty and mechanical. The gesture lingered like a phantom touch, mocking her as she climbed the creaking stairwell to her apartment. Each step echoed her regret, a hollow rhythm she couldn't escape.

He had said it himself, his voice as cold and unyielding as the Gotham rain that had drenched them both that night:

"I need you to be alright," he had murmured, the words breaking like fragile glass between them. His tone, low and almost broken, was a voice he reserved only for her—soft, careful, intimate. But this time, it felt different. Worn. Fractured. "And for that... I need to let you go. It's better this way."

It's better this way. It's better this way. It's better this way.

The phrase looped through her mind, relentless as a ticking clock, each repetition driving deeper into her chest. Was it better, though?

Her heart screamed the question, but no answer came, only the echo of his words blending with the sound of her boots against the damp stairwell steps. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. Crying would mean admitting he had broken something in her, something she wasn't sure could be fixed.

Don't, her thoughts snapped, commanding her like a voice separate from her own. He doesn't deserve your tears.

But then came the traitorous whisper, soft as a dying ember: Does he?

Because hadn't he always been the one to hold her steady when the ground beneath her crumbled? The one to catch her when she stumbled, even when she never asked him to? 

Hadn't he done everything right? He had been patient where others had fled, steady where she had wavered. He'd saved her—more than once—and stayed when there was no obligation, no reason beyond his own impossible sense of duty. He had insisted on protecting her, even as she threw up walls, spitting venom to keep him at bay.

And yet, he had walked away tonight. For her. For her.

The thought stung, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. He had given her what she never asked for but secretly craved—a chance at something deeper, something real—and now he was tearing it away. All because he thought it would save her.

She didn't know what hurt more: the ache of losing him, or the realization that he believed she couldn't be saved with him by her side.

And now, as she stood at the edge of her own undoing, she could see it so clearly—her mistakes, her cruelty, the ways she had twisted her fear into weapons to push him further away. Bruce had already been a fortress of stoicism, and yet she had built more walls between them, brick by brick.

Maryam was never liked that but only with the people she despite, yes, she was usually kind and understanding, but with him, she was stressed out at how he was acting with her, like no one ever had before, that she decided to be that bratty and mean person to ho.

And now, as she stood at the edge of her own undoing, everything came into sharp focus—the mistakes she could no longer take back, the sharp edges of her words, the armor of cruelty she had worn to keep him at bay. She had used her fear like a weapon, twisting it into barbs and walls that pushed him further away. Bruce, who was already a fortress of stoicism, had faced her endless defenses with quiet patience, never flinching. Yet she had added to the distance, brick by brick, until there was nothing left between them but shadows.

Maryam wasn't like that. Not with most people. She prided herself on being kind, on understanding others, on offering the compassion she rarely received. But with him, she had been different. Stressed by how he treated her—with care, with persistence, with a gentleness no one else dared to show—she had lashed out. As if trying to prove she didn't need it, didn't need him. She had chosen to become someone bratty, mean, and unyielding, simply because he saw her in ways no one else did.

And now, she regretted it all. Every sharp remark, every cold silence, every moment she had stolen from herself by refusing to let him in. She had spent so long keeping her gates locked that when she finally opened them, it was too late. Bruce had already turned away, retreating into his own shadows, leaving her to stand in the ruins of what could have been.

And she missed him. God, she already missed him.

Her vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as they welled up in her eyes. Red and raw, they clung to the edges of her resolve, daring her to give in. But she wouldn't cry. Not here. Not yet.

Her trembling fingers fumbled with the keys, the cold metal biting into her skin as the hallway's oppressive silence wrapped around her like a second skin. Each breath felt too loud, her pulse thudding in her ears. Just as she thought she might drown in the quiet—

"Hey!"

The soft voice startled her. She turned to see Vera standing at the edge of her slightly ajar door, her pajamas rumpled, dark curls loose around her face. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, listening for Maryam's footsteps on the stairs. Vera—her neighbor, the woman who had dragged her to the Iceberg Lounge not long ago, begging for company on a whim that Maryam reluctantly indulged. That night had been a calculated move for her—a chance to dig up dirt on Vittorio Falcone, but it had yielded nothing. Nothing but the taste of failure and the growing chaos that followed.

The city had only gotten worse since then: the Riddler's cryptic terror, a serial killer preying on women, shadows that felt heavier than usual. She hadn't even spoken to Alma since the mayor's funeral, too caught up in everything that followed.

Maryam forced a shallow breath, steeling herself to look presentable. She could only hope her eyes weren't betraying her. If they did, she would lie.

"Hi, Vera." She forced a smile, her voice raspier than intended. Clearing her throat, she tried again, adding a faint laugh. "How are you? Haven't seen you since that... night."

Vera studied her carefully, eyes scanning her up and down, the concern evident in her knitted brow. "Are you okay?"

Maryam's breath caught, her hands instinctively tightening on her keys. "What?" she asked, too quickly.

Vera gestured vaguely, her gaze lingering on her face. "Your eyes. They're red."

"Oh—yeah. Don't worry!" Maryam let out a forced chuckle, waving her hand dismissively. "It's just the cold. You know how it gets."

For a moment, Vera hesitated, but then she smiled, her expression softening in understanding. "Tell me about it. It's freezing out there lately."

"Yeah," Maryam murmured, hoping the conversation would wrap up quickly.

But Vera lingered, shifting awkwardly in the doorway. "I, uh... I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I shouldn't have let you go back alone. I just... got caught up in the moment." Her voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing faintly.

Maryam immediately caught the discomfort and, hating to see others embarrassed, rushed to reassure her. "It's fine, really. If anything, I should apologize for leaving so early."

Vera shook her head, her smile a little shy but sincere. "You had your reasons, I'm sure. And I told you—it was okay if you wanted to leave."

Maryam nodded, offering a small, grateful smile. She turned the key in the lock, the door creaking open behind her. "Well... thanks."

"Of course." Vera's smile widened. 

The doctor offered Vera a faint, reassuring smile before turning to enter her apartment, the weight of the evening pressing on her shoulders. But just as she was about to close the door, Vera called out to her, her voice cutting through the quiet.

"Have you seen the new video about Bruce Wayne, by the way?"

"Who?" Maryam asked, her mind struggling to process the words. Surely, her ears were deceiving her.

"Bruce Wayne. It's been all over the internet! Over 13 million views right now. The Riddler just uploaded it an hour ago."

Bruce Wayne? The Riddler? What the actual hell was going on? It felt like the world was spinning in circles, and Maryam couldn't seem to catch a break.

"No, I haven't seen it," she said, a frown creasing her brow. "Oh my god, is it bad?"

"I don't know if 'bad' is the right word." Vera crossed her arms, a chuckle escaping her lips. "But it's definitely... something."

"Thank you for telling me. See you soon!" Maryam didn't wait for Vera to respond. She quickly clicked the door shut, the soft click of the lock sounding like a release of tension. She leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her eyes fluttered shut, the stillness of her apartment engulfing her as the silence felt like a balm to her troubled mind.

But then the news Vera had just delivered hit her. Without warning, she straightened up, her heart hammering in her chest. She tossed her bag onto the kitchen countertop and hurried over to the TV. The news was on, but they were only talking about the video—there were no visuals, just an anchor's voice repeating, "A new explosive video from the Riddler has just been published and already has millions of views..."

Maryam's stomach churned. This was bigger than she realized.

Her sisters had been texting her, and she'd left her phone silenced during her shift, missing every notification. And as the silence in the apartment deepened, she ignored the messages that flashed across her phone screen and instead opened her laptop.

Immediately, the headlines screamed at her: "New explosive video by the Riddler just published. Already over 13 million views..."

She didn't waste another second. 

With a click of the mouse, the laptop screen flickered to life, and she navigated straight to that video, her stomach was twisting with a mix of dread and curiosity when she found it.

She had to see it.

So, she clicked the link.

The video was there, in front of her—almost too easy to access. And as the screen loaded, she could already feel the tension creeping up her spine. 

This wasn't something small. This was something monumental.

The play button lingered on the screen, mocking her with its quiet presence. She hesitated, her teeth biting into her bottom lip, another finger poised above it, trembling slightly. The room closed in around her, the air heavy and suffocating. With one last breath, she pushed it.

The voice of Thomas Wayne echoed in her apartment, a ghostly whisper from a past that no longer felt so distant. "I'm Thomas Wayne, and I approve this message." The image of him flashed on the screen—his mayoral campaign from twenty years ago, the words "Thomas Wayne for Mayor" splashed beneath his confident smile.

The video shifted to an old clip of him with Martha and a young Bruce at the orphanage, all smiling. Thomas spoke warmly, his voice full of hope and pride: "From a very young age, my family, Martha's family, the Arkhams—instilled in both of us that giving back is not just an obligation... it's a passion. That is our family's legacy."

But then the image froze—stopping mid-sentence—and the cheerful music twisted, turning into something darker, unsettling. The tone shifted, sharp and threatening, as if the entire ad had been hijacked by something sinister. Vintage black and white photos of the Waynes and the Arkhams bled into view, their smiles warped and chilling as they slowly turned a sickening red.

The voice of the Riddler slithered into the room, twisted and altered by the voice changer, making every word feel like a shadow creeping over her skin. "The Waynes and the Arkhams—Gotham's founding families... but what is their real legacy?"

The photos deepened in color, until they seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. A newspaper headline suddenly flashed up: Reporter Uncovers Dark Secrets of Gotham's Elite.

"Twenty years ago, one reporter set out to uncover the truth..." The Riddler's voice slithered into the words. "...He found shocking family secrets."

Flashes of police and autopsy photos assaulted the screen. Each image colder, more grotesque than the last—sickening in its truth.

The Riddler's voice darkened. "How when Martha was just a child, her mother brutally murdered her father, then committed suicide... and how the Arkhams used their power to bury it all. What did they not want you to know?"

A death certificate appeared, its words Cause of Death: ACCIDENTAL standing stark against the screen. The words didn't sit right in her stomach.

The Riddler's voice turned ice-cold, a predator's whisper. "How Martha herself was in and out of institutions for years... and they made sure no one knew."

The camera shifted to a darkened institution, Arkham Asylum, the image grainy and distorted, its darkness almost suffocating. Through a rusted chain-link fence, a young woman struggled violently against nurses who tried to subdue her. Her face was obscured, but Maryam's pulse quickened, a sickening knot forming in her stomach. Was that her—Martha? Mrs. Wayne? The same woman she'd seen every Thursday on the subway, holding her son's hand, a book in the other, laughing softly as they joked together? The same elegant, poised woman, whose smile had always seemed so warm, so kind? The same woman who'd radiated charity and grace?

It couldn't be. But the image haunted her all the same.

The Riddler's voice continued to creep through her mind. "Thomas Wayne tried to force this crusading reporter into silence with hush money..."

The scene shifted to Thomas Wayne shaking hands on the campaign trail, a legal document spinning into view. The word HUSH! stamped across it in thick, red letters that seemed to bleed into the screen.

"But when the reporter refused..." The voice turned into a sneer. "...Wayne turned to his secret associate, Carmine Falcone—and had him murdered."

The screen exploded with the sharp, echoing sound of a gunshot, followed by footage of the reporter's lifeless body. The headline flashed across the screen: GANG-LAND STYLE EXECUTION. A photo lingered, a haunting image of Thomas Wayne and Carmine Falcone, standing together in a conspiratorial whisper.

She shook her head, her breath hitching as her cold hand instinctively crept to her throat, her skin prickling with unease. Anxiety gripped her, suffocating her. The world around her seemed to tilt, the weight of the question pressing down like a vice. God, was Bruce okay?

The thought gnawed at her insides, relentless and sharp. What kind of truth had she just uncovered? Was the man she come to know still the same, or had the darkness of his family's legacy already consumed him?

"The Waynes and the Arkhams..." The Riddler's voice was full of mockery now. "Gotham's legacy of lies... and murder..."

The screen cut to a campaign poster. 

The word MAYOR was slashed out with a heavy red mark. Instead, it read THOMAS WAYNE FOR MURDERER. 

"God..." The word escaped her lips in a whisper, her fingers tightening around the edges of the laptop like it could somehow anchor her in this sea of chaos. She clung to it, hoping the simple utterance would offer some shred of solace, but the weight of the moment only pressed harder against her chest. This was a catastrophe, a truth unraveling so violently, she could barely breathe. The world felt like it was splintering, and every piece of it pointed back to him.

Then, with a final, taunting laugh, the Riddler's face appeared, his eyes gleaming with malice. "One by one, Gotham's pillars fall... on Judgment Day, the wreckage will consume us all... GOOD byyyyyyyye..."

The video cut to black, the silence ringing in her ears. 

The apartment was suffocating, the air thick with what she had just seen. Maryam sat motionless, her hand clamped over her mouth as if she could keep the horror from escaping. The only sound now was the soft hum of the TV, its pale light flickering against her wide, staring eyes. The room felt colder, the darkness pressing in tighter, like the walls themselves were closing around her.

She hadn't even realized she was holding her breath until it caught in her chest, sharp and ragged. She couldn't move—couldn't look away. The  video, the dark secrets it had uncovered, gnawed at her insides, leaving a cold, hollow pit in her stomach. 

Gotham's past was no longer a mere collection of whispered rumors. It had clawed its way back into the light, bursting through every shadow that had once hidden its secrets.

All the research she had painstakingly gathered about Bruce and his family—the fragments, the missing pieces—were here, laid bare before her. But she wasn't surprised. Not really. 

Who would be?

He was a billionaire, after all. The Waynes didn't build an empire on charity and goodwill alone. No, their wealth was forged in darker places—through the sweat and blood of others. 

There was no way a family as rich as theirs had gained their fortune through clean hands.

But what the Riddler had revealed about Thomas Wayne—it was... unsettling. So out of place. Thomas Wayne, the same man she'd seen in the subway, so loving toward his wife and son, so devoted to them. She had envied that love, the way Martha smiled at him, the way Bruce looked up at his father with the kind of reverence only a child could have for the person who shaped their world. 

It was the kind of love Maryam had longed for, the kind of love she had hoped she'd one day receive. The same love Bruce had given her, just hours ago. Soft words, a gentle kiss on the hand, whispered promises in the dark.

Maybe it was all a lie. 

A carefully constructed facade. But something still didn't sit right. She couldn't shake the feeling that there were pieces missing. And she knew better than to take anything at face value—not when the Riddler was involved, not when so many questions remained unanswered.

She needed to talk to Bruce. Desperately. The knot in her stomach twisted tighter at the thought of him watching that video, seeing the past unfold in such a brutal, public way. 

What would he do with that kind of truth? Would he break? Would he spiral?

She just needed to hear his voice. She had to know he was okay.

Maryam couldn't even bring herself to judge him. Why would she? To do so would be hypocritical. Her own maternal family wasn't exactly a shining example of perfection. Far from it, actually. She had seen enough dysfunction in her own bloodline to understand that everyone had their skeletons in the closet, their own secrets. What her family did didn't define her. She had learned long ago that she was her own person. 

And she was ready to tell Bruce the same.

If it had been anyone else, maybe she would have hated them, maybe she would have believed the Riddler's accusations without question. But this was Bruce. Her Bruce. The man who, despite the weight of his family's darkness, had shown her kindness, compassion, and a sense of duty she couldn't ignore. He wasn't responsible for his parents' mistakes—no, those were theirs alone. 

And yes, he was an idiot sometimes, and she told him that, just hours ago. His efforts to save Gotham weren't just about the suit; they were about Bruce Wayne, the billionaire heir, and the choices he made beyond the mask.

She needed to talk to him. Right now. She needed to hear his voice, to make sure he was okay. To make sure he wasn't going to spiral after watching that video.

Maryam rose from the couch, her resolve firm, but before she could take a step, a low, sinister voice slithered through the air, followed by the sharp click of a safety being disengaged, the sound echoing ominously off the walls.

It was cold, dripping with menace, like a predator toying with its prey.

"Did you like my video?"

The words hung in the air, as if they were being inhaled by the walls themselves. Her body went rigid, the blood in her veins freezing for a moment. Her hand instinctively shot to her throat, as if to protect herself from some invisible pressure closing in on her.

She stood perfectly still, every muscle in her body locked in place. The voice...so familiar yet it wasn't just a voice. It was like something dark and terrible had seeped into the very atmosphere around her. It crawled up her spine, sending chills through her limbs, but she couldn't bring herself to look behind her. 

She didn't want to. She didn't dare.

The silence in her apartment had thickened, almost suffocating. The only sounds were the soft hum of her laptop and TV and the erratic rhythm of her own breathing. Her mind raced, every instinct screaming at her to move, to escape, but she couldn't. 

"Great editing. What app did you use?" she said, her voice taut but unwavering, a strained attempt at sarcasm. 

It was her reflex—sarcasm or anger, sometimes both—whenever danger loomed too close. Her eyes locked onto the figure standing just beyond the glow of the TV.

Him.

The dim, stuttering light played cruel tricks, casting him as something more monstrous than human. The khaki mask clung to his face, faceless and suffocating, with only the glint of thick-framed glasses cutting through the obscurity. 

There was something about those glasses—something that nagged at her, unsettling in its familiarity, as though she had seen them before in another, safer context.

The mask distorted his breathing, a soft, labored sound that crawled across the room to her ears. His posture was relaxed with his gun, almost casual, as if he had been waiting for her, relishing the tension he'd so effortlessly woven into the air.

Her own sarcastic quip hung there, suspended like a broken thread in the thick, oppressive atmosphere. 

Stupid. 

So stupid.

The words hadn't bought her anything—not safety, not time, not even the illusion of control. He wasn't laughing or sneering or reacting at all.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, the erratic rhythm making her feel dizzy. 

She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples, her palms slick with sweat. Her nerves screamed at her to move, to do something, but her body was locked in place, paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of it all.

Because why the fuck was the Riddler standing in her apartment?

previous | next chapter

taglist : @gaypoetsblog @faeryki @rattyfishrock

A/N : We finally meet the Riddler! But don't worry, we'll be seeing more of him in the next chapter !!! 😏

Also, for those of you who didn't notice, I've updated the quote in the previous chapter to "My mercy prevails over my wrath." Some of you might recognize this quote from The Walking Dead, but it actually comes from a Hadith in Islam, more specifically Hadith Qudsi.

A Hadith is a collection of sayings, actions, and approvals of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). They form a key part of Islamic teachings and are considered second only to the Quran in guiding the faith. Hadith Qudsi refers to those sayings that are attributed directly to God but spoken through the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH).

I wanted to change the quote because it felt incredibly meaningful, and it aligns perfectly with the themes in Batman and Bruce Wayne's character, as well as Maryam's. I felt like It embodied the internal struggle between mercy and wrath, something that I think resonates deeply with Bruce's moral code, especially considering his commitment to not killing and upholding justice despite his anger. And it also ties into Maryam's own internal conflict, like balancing her past and the choices she makes moving forward.

I felt like this quote really strengthens the narrative and connects with both characters on a deeper level... Idk but I'd love to know what you all think of the change !!!!!

[mqverick]

diet mountain dew || ꕤ

“Baby, stoppin' at 7-Eleven

There in his white Pontiac heaven.”

───────── ˚｡⋆ ( ၴႅၴ ⟡ ─────────

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Daniel was looking at you with the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen on a man’s face before. His eyes were burning into yours, glistening under the light as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. You tried not to gulp as the question echoed in your ears, face hot and flustered.

You never thought you’d find yourself outside of Daniel Kaffee’s door, contemplating whether to knock on his door or not. You’d always had the first word with him, ever since the moment he burst in your office with that stupid apple of his.

He’s looked like an idiot then and he looked like an idiot now, all proud of himself, looking at you — forcing you to use the actual words you’d been practicing and itching to say to him for God knows how long. It was deeply humiliating.

“No,” you simply and coldly replied, but your voice weakened by the end of the two-lettered word.

“It sounded like you were asking me out on a date,” he argued, crossing his arms as he took a few steps closer to you, ignoring the baseball game on the television that played uninterrupted in the background. He slyly raised his eyebrows as if he was questioning your previous ‘no’.

You stood there robotically, fumbling with the end of your thin jacket as you avoided eye contact with Daniel, knowing very well that your knees would buckle under just one look from him.

“I wasn’t,” you continued firmly.

“Mm,” Daniel hummed, his face so close to yours that you swore he was asking to get roughly hit in the balls. You were a woman with dignity and respect, though, you had to be stronger than that. God, you were aware of the fact that he had one of the most self-absorbed, cocky personalities, but when had he gotten like that? “I’ve been asked out on dates before, and that’s what it sounded like.”

Regretting your life’s choices should’ve been a paid occupation for you at that point. You wondered what came over you, thought hard about the nerve in your burnt brain that screamed and cried for you to get up from the bed, have a good day and then ruin it all by finally gathering the courage to go alone to Daniel’s place and talk to him about something that wasn’t related to the case. Ask him out on a fucking date like the desperate, little, touch starved loser you were.

Men had been going after you, begging for a chance since forever… yet, there was Daniel.

Daniel Kaffee, who had graduated from law school a year ago, had gotten in the Navy freshly — around nine months ago — who was so admirably impressive and intelligent and a whole person of his own. Daniel, who couldn’t come to a realisation without his thinking bat.

How had you fallen so hard in love with him?

“Do you like seafood? I know a good seafood place,” you blurted out, mentally kicking and cursing yourself for how stupid you’d sounded.

“I’ll tell you if you admit you’re asking me out.”

You weren’t going to, not even if he held a gun to your forehead and threatened your life. He did not need that kind of boost for his ego, nor did you care for getting embarrassingly paralysed in front of him after the smile he’d give you in case you actually did convince yourself to admit that this was your horrible aspect of asking him on a date.

“N-Not a date,” you stuttered, hating yourself.

“The sweat forming on your forehead says otherwise.” He snickered when you hurriedly snatched your hand from your jean’s pocket to wipe the non existent sweat off your face. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. You know, I really wouldn’t say no to going out with you.”

“Well, you’re not. I just want to grab some dinner with my colleague is all. Will you come or should I get going? It’s late, they’ll close soon.”

You eventually gathered the courage to breathe, backing away from him as you headed towards the door, placing your hand on the handle. Daniel snatched you back by the arm, catching you off guard as you silently cried, mind short-circuiting after noticing how much closer he’d pulled you to him. His grip was strong on your elbow, fingers tightly pressing into your warm, reddening skin.

“Are you dismissing me?”

You cocked your head to the side.

“What?”

“I want to go on a date with you. Do you want to go on a date with me?” Fuck, he was killing you. You were an exceptional lawyer, distinguished, had even won service medals. And all of that just vanished, the words dying in your throat, just because Kaffee was holding you so painfully close to him that part of your mind subconsciously dared you to move your head just an inch further into him, invade completely his personal space.

“I…” you began, but trailed off, seeing as you were truly incapable of understanding what was going through your blinded head in that moment. Had his eyes always been so dazzlingly green and big? Had Daniel always looked so unbelievably pretty?

“I didn’t even know you liked me. I mean, if you like me. I won’t make you say it — I just want to know if you’re asking me out on a date. Which is sort of like asking you if you like me, so that automatically cancels out what I just said.”

Daniel was getting nervous as well. Both of you were so utterly fucked with each other, but none ever spoke about it out loud without jokingly throwing flirtatious innuendos. He was done with just guessing how you felt about him, though, decided to take the matter into his own hands if you didn’t have the guts to make a move first.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you to another man just because his stupidity was too much of an obstacle to overcome. Died in silence every time he had to say goodbye or goodnight to you wherever you had to leave his apartment after judging that you’d all conversated enough about the case. Daniel knew that you had to be feeling something for him — even if that was a tiny spark.

All the secret glances, the way you commanded and spoke to him, the contained smiles; they had to mean something right? But why weren’t you trying anything with him? He thought he made it pretty obvious that he felt the same way about you, had been feeling like that for a long time.

He knew you knew.

“Danny, can you let — fuck, I can’t breathe when you hold me so close to you,” you accidentally confessed, eyes bulging the moment your words played loudly rent free in your brain right after they so easily and boldly left out of your mouth.

“You can’t?” he repeated softly, in awe as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said. “You can’t — you can’t say stuff like that to me and then tell me that you don’t want to ask me on a date. You can’t do that — you can’t fuck like that with my mind.”

You jerked away from him, brows furrowing.

“Me? I can’t say stuff like that to you? You’d known me only 12 hours when you told me you were sexually aroused. You’ve been looking at me as if I’m some sort of grand lawyer, like I amaze you or something — you know how hard it is for me to keep a fucking professional stance around you?” you were shouting for no reason now, practically admitting your feelings for him due to the anger that had fogged your brain.

Daniel closed his eyes in wonder, then looked at you dumbfounded. “What?” Fuck. “What did you just say?” he repeated hesitantly.

“Nothing.”

“No, don’t give me that bullshit. I thought you hated me. I always try so hard to impress you and I’m so afraid that I’ll do something wrong or offend you in some way I won’t even realize and you… You feel the same way about me?”

The question fell off his lips like he was terrified of the answer you’d give him. And it was true; he was, beat himself up for how little confidence he had around you even though his actions showed the opposite. He’d been melting for you.

Was captivated by your determination, the way you could make him feel so worthless just by giving him a weird look. Scary?

To Daniel, you were divine.

“I—I don’t feel a certain way about you, Danny.”

“You kill me,” he rushed to comment, cutting you off the second his nickname was mentioned. “Every single time you call me that, a small part of me dies. That sounds horrible, I didn’t mean it that way. You know how it feels to walk in a courtroom for the first time?”

You nodded with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I do. I could never forget. Do you?”

“Because of you, I do. If you weren’t so damn stubborn and annoying, I couldn’t even dream of it. When I walked inside, my legs were trembling. It was a confusing, but beautiful feeling.”

Your knees were bucking — what was he doing?

“Fuck you, Kaffee,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. Fuck me. Fuck me, Commander, I’m already yours. I have been ever since you listed my entire life in front of my very own eyes, then proceeded to threaten my position in the case. How can you not know that? How can you act so surprised when the only reason why I keep calling both you and Sam at my place repeatedly every day is because I believe that there couldn’t possibly be any way I’d ever see you in my little, humble apartment under any other circumstances? Don’t you think we could’ve perfectly arranged another meeting spot?”

You’d lost touch with the environment. Daniel’s eyes looked as though he was about to burst into tears; all glassy and red, holding back a million words and emotions that he’d so successfully held back for such a long time, that they almost didn’t even feel real. He had to be kidding you.

“Is it too late to ask you on a date, then?”

Daniel let out a sigh of relief, a gorgeous smile cracking on his lips as he finally shut the game on the television off, moving dangerously toward you. He cupped his hands over your cheeks and pulled you tightly into him, capturing your lips with his own after what felt like ages. His eyes were forcefully closed, afraid of opening them and waking up to what could be just another dream. But no, this was reality, he decided after he discreetly opened them just an inch to make sure that the person he was smushing was real.

You weren’t kissing him back, though, and it made him pull away, feeling like a complete fool. Had he misread anything again, had he done something wrong? Had his hurried intrusive thought to kiss you been too much?

“I’m really sorry, I—”

Embarrassment welled up inside of him as he stared down at your feet, his mind still unable to process the taste of your lips as it barely even functioned for any other reason; talking like a normal person, for example. Harvard lawyer, they said. Lawyer his ass. What kind of lawyer was ever known to get so tongue tied in a situation?

“Your lack of response to my question makes me believe that you haven’t truly been asked out on any dates before,” you eventually spoke, opting to break the silence with sarcasm, just like it had always been between the two of you.

You pressed your mouth against his this time, smirking nobly as you heard him take a sharp inhale. You walked backwards, forcing him to do the same, then pushed him against the outside arm of his pathetic couch, causing him to fall.

You wasted no time with getting on top of him, straddling his lap firmly as your back arched on top of him, making the kiss get profoundly deeper and wetter as tongues got involved. You’d never been French-kissed like that (or in general, ) — your head felt like it would explode.

Daniel wasn’t skilled just as a lawyer. He was awfully good at kissing, sending you over the edge just by adding a little extra saliva in the kiss and letting his hands roam freely in your back, pulling you closer and closer to his scorching body. His soft brunet hair softly brushed against your forehead as he titled his head for a better angle and you could almost feel yourself die.

He winced when his bat dug into his back and the miserable sound he made caused you to moan.

“Are — Are you going to ask me out?”

You ignored him, grasping on his shoulders as you accidentally ground against his crotch, losing your mind and grip over yourself when you felt his semi-erection rub just the right away over your jeans and panties, your wet core clenching around absolutely nothing disappointedly.

“Let’s go to the seafood place, yeah?” you exclaimed against his mouth.

“As a date?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You untangled yourself from him, still neatly seated on his legs as if you couldn’t feel him flush and hard, aching to be freed from his trousers.

“You know I’m very intimidated by you, right?”

Daniel gave you a peck on the before getting up to sit normally on the couch. “I do not, Ma’am.”

“Shut up.”

“Pretty impressive, huh?” he mocked, just like he’d said to you the first time you met. God, you really, deeply hated his self-absorbed guts. But you loved him. Loved him like crazy.

“I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“I don’t want to go out to eat.”

Daniel’s face dropped when you got up from the couch and began putting your jacket back on. He’d messed up, he’d messed up, he’d messed up… Fuck him and how he never thought before doing. You were going to leave him, of course you were. You were scared of how fast he’d moved.

Except you really weren’t, you just really found joy into toying with his lowered remaining patience.

“What?” he asked, nearly like a whisper.

“I’ll see you at court tomorrow at 10. Don’t be fucking late, Lieutenant, or I’ll just might have to cancel the dinner reservations I’m planning. Up until then, you’ll do well with your very manly and grown up Yoo-Hoos,” you walked up to his door, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest as the corner of your eye caught him almost stumbling into the coffee table in his hurry to get to you.

“Is it going to be a—”

“And before you ask, yes, it’s a date.”

FIN.

@honeymvnt 𝜗𝜚

[babyhedonistt]

Too Close To Touch // TWO

Warnings : Smut, Mental despair,

"Good going." Jolly scoffs, nearly hitting his nose on the door when you slammed it shut. Jolly has always been protective of you, so the fact Noah just made you storm out and quit the tour really boiled his blood to say the least.

Ruffilo pinched the bridge of his nose sighing deeply, and Noah seemed almost unphased. His mouth was pushed into a straight line and his jaw clenched with regret when the reality of not having a drummer set in his stomach.

"We need a fucking drummer, Noah." Ruffilo whispers. Noah doesn't say anything and pulls his phone from his back pocket. "No." Jolly plucks Noah's phone from his hand. "Hey-"

"You aren't texting your way out of this one. You haven't respected Y/N since she temporarily joined this band, and it blows my mind considering how close you two used to be." Jolly scolds him and struck a nerve.

Noah's adam's apple bobbed before he took a deep breath. "Just drop it and I'll go talk to her."

"She's probably outside smoking. An uber can't come this fast and the tour bus won't take just her without the rest of us." Ruffilo chimed in.

Jolly handed Noah back his phone and made a mental note as Noah left the dressing room, of the news article he had accidentally opened from your text conversation with Noah when he snatched the phone of his hand.

"You know I'll beat some sense into him if he's still bothering you Y/N." Folio voice states, coming out of your phone.

"Respectfully, I think the only thing stopping you from doing that is your height dude." You chuckle, flicking some of the ash off the butt of your cigarette.

"Ha ha. You're hilarious. I'm trying to get better as fast as I can. You did great up there tonight though." He compliments. Your lip quivered as tears began to well in your eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah. Don't give me a run for my money though." He chuckles. "I'll talk to you soon, okay? I love you" Folio assures you. You nod into the receiver before putting out your cigarette with your boot. "Love you too."

The line goes dead before you wipe your eyes and sniffle back the sadness you had pent up all day before the closing of the outside door causes you to jump and grab your chest.

"No, I'm not hearing him out Jol--"

He stood there. His tall frame towering over you as he stood in gym shorts, slides and his infamous black hoodie. This version of him looked a little more normal. More like the Noah you remember. This version of him almost had a calming effect on you.

It always does until he opens his damn mouth.

"Looks like you couldn't stay away." He sighs, cracking his neck.

"You have literally three seconds before I punch you square in your jaw."

He holds his large hands up, shaking his hands before taking a few steps towards me. You take an equivalent number of steps back before his eyebrows crease. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" You ask, keeping your eyes trained on him, only being able to see his features by the dimness of the alley light above the both of you. "Acting like you're nervous around me." He says

"Oh. I wish it was acting." You reply, pulling your phone out of your pocket, prepping it to call Jolly on speed dial.

"You can't still be mad about--"

"Don't even bring that up right now Noah. Hearing those words come out of your mouth right now is the last thing I want to relive right now. " You felt your eyes well with water again as you smother the confidence to stand in his presence alone and on this topic.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He speaks. He feels confident enough to take another step towards you, and this time you let him approach you. Usually, when it came to Noah Sebastian, you could tell when he was lying. His hands would be locked together, the top of his foot would be tucked behind his ankle, and he would avoid eye contact at all costs.

This time, his eyes were drilling holes into your skull, and just like the last time he made this type of eye contact with you, you were beneath him, naked.

You felt your breath catch in your chest as he continued to apologize. "We need you on this tour, without Folio, it's been really hard and I'm just not used to having someone in his place. Let alone his sister."

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts as he attempted to read you for any sort of reaction. You wanted to yell at him. His lame attempt of trying to pass you off as ' Folio's Sister ' was absolutely pathetic. But what can you expect coming from him?

"Why don't we make a deal?" You spit and you could visibly see his ears perk up and his eyebrows reach his hairline. He slightly nods in acknowledgement. You take a step closer to him, with your arms folded across your chest, looking up at him, the back of your head almost touching the base of your neck.

"I'm listening." He mumbles, his eyes slowly moving from your eyes,

to your neck.

to your chest..

your stomach....

all the way down your body.

"You give me no more grief on this tour, and I'll promise that you won't have to see me ever again after it's over."

Your eyes squinted up at him. This man was so good at hiding his facial expressions, he would pass any lie detector test.

You hold out your hand for him to shake. He doesn't move his head, but his gaze looks down at your hand. "And if I disagree?" He inquires, a tilt of a smirk tugging at his lips as you felt the familiar nausea settle at the base of your stomach.

"You don't get to, just like I didn't get to." You force his hand into yours to shake, and he takes your hand, spinning you around so your back was against his front, and he wraps his arms around you, locking you in, his face falling next to yours, his lips grazing your ear.

"You're much more than his sister. You and I both know that, and I'm sorry it has to be this way." He whispers, before placing an airy kiss on the cartilage of your ear, and letting you go before going back inside out of the cold night.

You hurl your phone at the door before squatting down and hugging your legs, shaking from a combination of the cold and the images deciphering in your memory.

You hate him

You hated him so much.

To be continued............ hehe

[just-a-carrot]

Before I send in the angsty fic as promised, I just want to lay out a couple trigger warnings for both you and anyone reading this ask when you answer it: detailed slow description of death, deeply emotionally upsetting, graphic descriptions of pain and bodily harm

Dying Thoughts

an interpretation of Genzou’s POV at the end of Arc 1

I wince as his hand unsticks from mine, and I don’t know what hurts more. The physical sensation sending shivers of pain up my arm, or the knowledge that I may never feel his touch ever again. Just barely holding myself together, I listen to his footsteps grow quieter and quieter against the wet grass, wishing that the last thing I saw wasn’t his face, painted with guilt, panic and terror as I was boiled alive.

The memory makes me internally wince, because every movement hurts. Everything clings to me, fusing with my skin.

I don’t.

I don’t think there’s any hope for me.

I listen. The silence would be deafening if it wasn’t for the trickling of the running stream.

And like the stream, the dam breaks.

But it’s not water. It’s lava. It scorches my bloated swelling skin as it cascades down my face, and yet I can’t stop. I can’t stop bawling. The sensation reminds me of flames licking at my skin. Not the pleasant sensation of sitting near a warm fire in a wooden cabin after a long adventure, no.

It is the searing flames of hell, ready to claim me for my sins.

Look at me being a poetic bastard. Turns out all it took to make something of myself was dying, huh.

…

It’s pathetic. I’m so fucking pathetic. A wet, sopping and yet burning mess. But what can a man do in the face of such viceral pain, if not whimper like a baby, longing to be held by their mother.

Mom. Mom I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I never did end up making anything of myself. All i did was burden you and everyone around me. You didn’t raise me to become such a dick. And yet I was. I am. I’m about to only burden Iggs more with being too fucking selfish to hold on just a little longer to atleast give him closure. I’ll never get to apologise. I’ll never get to-

I bite my lip in a feeble attempt to silence my mind’s mouth, only to regret it as pain strikes up multiple nerves, spreading from my lip to my head, like a lightning strike across the night sky. I wonder what it would feel like, to get struck by lightning. It would definitely be a way less painful and more quick way to go than this, hah.

Here I go again, wishing for a less painful end, acting as if I deserve anything but this. It’s probably best I never got to tell him how I felt, he’d only become another person I weighed down and hurt in the long run.

And yet, even now, knowing this full well, I wish it was instead him here to embrace me rather than the cold dark earth. Deep down, I always knew I was going to die alone, being the man I was. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I sob, each volatile constriction of my insides sending shot after shot of pain across my nervous system. And with each shot, I grow weaker. Colder. Number. Until I don’t have the strength to cry anymore. It’s so cold. I’m so alone. I’m so fucking alone.

I can feel it. The tendrils of darkness reaching for me. Ready to pull me under. It’s probably my brain shutting down but. I can’t help but feel like I’ve suddenly just lost something.

Something very dear to me.

Someone?

I’m not sure. But I know that in it’s abscence, all that’s left is a hollowed hole in my heart. It’s cold. In this vast emptiness, I try to cling to it so desperately. But it slips, as if I was never clinging to anything at all. It’s cold. And there’s nothing to warm me, nobody to think about at most lonesome. There’s no longer anything to qualm the cold, harrowing pain.

A most primal urge overtakes me, with my final breath. With a muster of all the strength I have left, just barely I mouth out:

“I’m sorry”

oh...........

oh gosh...........

this was so heart wrenching..... yet also so beautifully written

everything was so visceral, from the descriptions of the physical sensations to the self-deprecating whirlwind of thoughts.... my heart hurt so much....

and then the coldness at the end when Iggy disappears from reality.... ahhhh....... it was so poignant how it was described....... 😢

this was so beautiful and so sad. I'd say I enjoyed reading it if you can describe enjoy as something that filled your eyes with tears. Perhaps better for me to say that it touched me deeply and was very well done

thank you for sending this in, my heart is in shambles 💔