#and he knew that his victims! would come back!

[thecapricunt1616]

Very First Time (c.b. one-shot)

♡ Chapter Inspo: So High School - Taylor Swift ; "You know what you wanted & boy you got her" ♡ Summary: Based on ✩This✩ big brained ask from @carmenberzattosgf ♡ W/C: 9.4K ♡ Posted Date: 06/11/2024 ♡ A/N: Omg I had so much fucking fun writing this you have no idea!!! I hope this satisfies your virgin carmy tooth my dirty olive martini! Also, New look for this one shot how are we feeling yall? ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUT SMUT SMUT, Characters are 18+, High school relationship, childhood best friend trope, virgin!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N (r goes by childhood nickname 'squish'

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

2010

You had thought about this year at least monthly since … well - kindergarten. This was your year. 

Graduation year. 

4 decent years of high school were coming to a close. You were freshly 18 as of last week, and felt exactly the same. You actually felt worse now that your birthday had passed you by. Why? Oh. Virginity. Still having one, that thing. 

As far as you knew, all of your friends had lost theirs by now, well - you weren’t so sure. You’d think asking your longest time friend if they were also holding onto their precious dire to get rid of virginity cards as well would be easy, right? 

Wrong. Very wrong. 

This was because your bestest longest term friend? You’d been concealing a massive crush on him since sophomore year. Well, actually - technically 7th grade, when he saved your volcano from prematurely erupting by pouring borax in the hole from his project about borax crystallization after the nastiest girl in the grade dumped the cup of vinegar in it while you weren’t looking so it would explode prematurely while the teacher wasn’t watching and you’d get zero credit. 

But, you told yourself that he was just a really nice person like his sister who had babysat you a few times, so he’d probably heard about you from her and was simply being friendly. Nevertheless, the interaction made you fast friends. 

What sealed the deal to you being so close, though, was when a few days later one of the mean boys in the grade tried to make Carmy his newest victim by continually throwing pencils at the back of his head. He did this every class to someone new, and always while the teacher wasn’t looking. 

You had waited just until half a second before the pencil flew and  “Mrs.Harrison!” urgently left your lips, she quickly looked up, just in time to see the moron let the pencil go, it hit the back of Carmys head, and for Carmy send him a silent glare. 

“Jared! That’s a week of detention. It has been you with those pencils. I’m calling home too- this disruptive behavior is unacceptable!” She was so focused on writing out detention slips that she didn’t even remember you had grabbed her attention. Carmy gave you one of his shy close-mouthed smiles that made his adorable dimples show before going back to drawing some pair of cargo jean looking things on the inside of his notebook cover. 

This sealed your friendship because you had shown him your loyalty. You have my back, I have yours was always the mentality between you two. By the time you got to high school, you and Carmy were attached at the hip. In middle school, specifically in eighth grade, people would tease you two that you were dating. 

The both of you were late bloomers and hadn’t even thought about Carmy or anyone in that way yet, but by sophomore year of high school the teasing really hit home because you did have a crush on him but thought you were absolutely sure he could never like you back, that he saw you as a sister. 

Until one fateful June afternoon. 

You were laid on your full sized bed together in your childhood bedroom, flicking through a J-14 magazine to get all the latest gossip on the celebrities you follow when you settle on the Ask Sabrina page, a forum where a girl answers dating and love questions. 

Dear Sabrina, 

I was wondering - what age should you have your first kiss, French kiss, lose your virginity etc? I’m already 16 and I haven’t had sex yet, I had my first kiss at 14 and my first French kiss this year. But I feel like such a loser cause all my friends are having sex, and say it’s so much fun!! Is it really worth the hype? 

Jane from California

You roll your eyes. 16 and already had her first French kiss. She was 2 years ahead of you in that sense. You hadn’t had sex yet, either. You hadn’t really kissed a boy for real either. The only kiss you’d had to date was -

Ew! 

You had to rectify this situation immediately. The only kiss you’d had to date was Billy Guerrero? In fifth grade?! You couldn’t believe yourself. You’d let time slip away, you’d let your real first kiss prime time slip away. What guy is gonna want a girl at college who was gonna want to date a girl who can’t even kiss properly! You’d bet Carmy had kissed girls, hell he’d probably had sex already. With who you weren’t sure because the only person Carmy opened his mouth to give more then a muttered yes or no were you, and his direct family. 

Maybe it was with Claire down the street, she always seemed to you to be sweet on him. He would probably be better for him, anyway. If Mikey wasn’t teasing him about her being his girlfriend, he was teasing about you being his girlfriend. Each time he brought it up Carmy would go red as a tomato and tell him to shut up, and if Richie was around it would get even worse. 

You wondered if he liked it, why he didn’t tell you about it - wait - why hadn’t the two of you talked about sex? It wasn’t until this moment you’d realized you’d never breached the topic. You laid your magazine on your chest, flicking the cover of Carmys Spider-Man comic with your nail to get his attention from your position sprawled out over his thighs as your pillow. 

“Mm” he hums in response, blue eyes continuing to move across the page. That was something you always loved about Carmy, those large round blue eyes. You loved to tease him that he looked like Flik from bugs life. You’d done very intense studying of those eyes from your many intense staring contests over the summer breaks you two spent together, he would cheat to win, of course - but you liked having an excuse to look at his eyes, so you didn’t mind. 

“What was your first kiss like?” You test the waters. Without even realizing what you had done, he mirrored you and laid his open comic on his chest to hold his page so he could give you his full attention. 

“First kiss?” He repeats. You couldn’t believe how much better his stutter had gotten over last summer. He had told you he wanted it gone or at least as gone as he could get it by the time you went off to college, so the two of you checked out all the speech pathology books the library had to offer and got to work every day. It was hard work, but after about a month he got the hang of it. 

“Very first kiss, well - real kiss” you clarify and by nature he brushed away your bangs that had fallen in front of your eyes from the woosh of air that came from putting his comic down. 

“Uh- w-wh-“ he stops himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, focusing really hard on what he was trying to say and a few seconds later he tries again “what’s a real kiss? Like a kiss that’s not just the back of my hand?” He joked and you snorted a chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Yes dummy like- like a real kiss on a date or something or like…I dunno have you ever had a girlfriend? Well, before you met me? Would a 6th grade girlfriend count?” You thought out loud. You hadn’t ever had a boyfriend before, and Carmy hadn’t said he was dating anyone and spent all of his time with you that wasn’t spent at home or at school, so you could safely assume he hadn’t, but just wanted to be sure. 

“n-no- no girlfriend uh- why do you ask?” He cleared his throat that way Richie did after he asked a question he knew was stupid and you shrugged a bit 

“So who have you kissed? Claire?” You ask and those big blue eyes go wide as saucers as he shakes his head no like a bobble head 

“What - what?! W-why why would you think I kissed Claire? Claire- Claire Dunlap? from down the street?” He clarified, his cheeks heating up

“Woah! Do you have a crush on her?” You sat up and he groaned, rubbing over his face dramatically. 

“Squiiish. Not you too” he groaned dramatically. “No! I don’t like Claire! Actually to be f-fucking honest everyone always trying to cram her down my throat makes me hate her!” He huffed 

“Well then who have you kissed! A real kiss!?” You question with a laugh, unsure why he was being so secretive over something so small. The two of you could vote in the next election for Christ sake, a kiss shouldn’t be this big of a deal. 

“No one!” He blurts, the heat from his cheeks bleeding up to the tips of his ears and down his neck and collarbones. “There. Ok! No one and I sure as fuck didn’t kiss Claire Dunlap.” He crossed his arms, averting your gaze. You were sat there, just staring. You were frankly trying to absorb that, it was surprising to you with such a stud of an older brother - he hadn’t gotten around. 

“Me either” you said after a few beats of silence and his eyes quickly found yours again, mouth dropping slightly and he blinked a few times, the way that told you he was trying to digest what you were saying. 

“Y-you haven’t kissed Claire-“

“Anyone” you interrupted. His jaw dropped like a trout as he stared at you in shock and you grabbed your magazine, rolling it up and bonking him on the head with it.  “Don’t look at me like that! You haven’t kissed anyone either! I technically have you beat because I kissed Billy G. at recess in fifth grade once even though it was just like… a mom kiss you know like a- like” you demonstrate a little puckery peck of your lips. 

His eyes narrowed with jealousy and you smiled proudly “Squish, one - Bear? Zero” that was one thing about you two, you were always in a competition of some kind. Who could run farther, who could read a book faster, who could get their homework done first, you never realized it translated into other things too, and that neither of you were in the lead. 

“I bet I’m better then you at kissing even though I haven’t done it I’ve practiced more so I’m good when it’s time for me to show my skill” he smirked, picking up his comic again. You scoffed 

“Practice? On what, your bathroom mirror? It doesn’t count if it’s not a person, dummy.” You said and he shrugged 

“Find out” he said casually, eyes not tearing up from the page. Now it was your cheeks that felt like they were on fire. Find out?! Find out what, does he even realize what he’s offering you right now?! 

“Find out? What- you want to kiss me?” You said and he smirked a bit, dimples showing and his eyes flick back to yours. 

“It’s you who wants to kiss me. I told you I’m a better kisser then you, so, if you don’t believe me why don’t you come find out.” He mused and went right back to reading. You sat there for a few moments, dumbfounded. You had a crush on Carmy, but it was only founded when you weren’t together - well, that was a lie, you still thought about kissing him while you were with him but would scold yourself for it that it was weird because he’s your best friend and it’s wrong to think of him that way. 

But now he was just offering like it was his apple he didn’t want at lunch.  

“French or regular?” You ask, trying to play it cool and the astonished look on his face led you to cackle, shoving his shoulder “what?! Stop looking at me like that weirdo!” You said and he smiled, shaking his head and doing one of those slow Carmy blinks as he sighs, a little smirk on his lips. He always reminded you of Natalie when he did that, he must have gotten it from her. 

“You want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?” He mused and you nod

“I actually think it goes both ways- and with 0 practice I’d win. Sure of it.” You said cockily and shrugged a bit. He snorts a chuckle

“And how do we determine a winner?” He asked, shutting his comic and resting it on the nightstand next to your bed like he was genuinely weighing the offer in his mind. 

You were quiet for a few moments, looking at him carefully - and it seemed like he was serious as you were, so you said “It’s supposed to feel good, right? So…whoever like..moans first?” 

“Uh o-okay- okay sure um.” He swallowed thickly, wiping his hands on his jeans that you assumed were clammy now how they got when he was nervous. “So- how- how do you wanna like- sit,” he asked. Fuck. You were just now realizing you weren’t actually sure. Your heart was thumping so hard in your chest, blood was roaring in your ears. This was all going so fast - you were going to do it. You were going to kiss your crush. 

“Uh-“ you said stupidly, tucking your hair behind your ears and digging your chapstick out of your pocket, cause guys like soft cherry flavored lips, right? If he was kissing you for a stupid competition you may as well make it good. “Yeah um. I think, maybe criss cross? Right? Like how we would play sailer by the sea” you crossed your legs and sat in front of him 

“We should play later I’ve been practicing with nat - I’m totally gonna beat you” he crossed his legs, and you moved in closer so your knees were touching but your faces were still about 2 feet apart, too big a distance for a kiss. “Also- we’re gonna need to be closer” he said plainly. You snorted a laugh,

“Yes - we can play. How am I supposed to get closer?” You asked, and in one fluid motion he stuck his hands under your calves, and uncrossed your legs before dragging you forward quickly and wrapping your legs around his waist. You could feel his breath. 

“There” he looks at you, eyes fanning from your eyes to your lips and back again. “That’s ok, right?” The low softness of his voice, mixed with the action of him just taking control how he did - it sent this feeling down to your core that felt so good. Like a pleasureful pulsing heartbeat, the only time you got that feeling was when you were alone in bed at night squeezing your thighs together thinking about Carmy. 

“Mmhmm” you hummed, unsure what to do with your hands so you settled for placing them on your thighs. “So- uh- ok. I guess um..let’s get started?” Your voice was small, nervous. A definite switch of roles for the two of you. You weren’t sure if this was normal, but you assumed it was for Carmy. 

He was being so normal about it, the same normal he was when you got your period at his house - he just went to Natalie’s bathroom, and came back to the guest bathroom with a few pads and tampons for you, as well as feminine wipes - normal. Not weird, like this happens every day for him. Like - periods (or in this case) sex isn’t the most embarrassing thing to teen life. His chill demeanor told you that he strictly saw it as a platonic friendly competition, so why do your panties feel sticky all the sudden?

“It’s ok- we don’t have to-“ he’s interrupted by your lips on his, 

Now or never, right? 

It was warm, a little messy at first, you found out quickly you should close your eyes since he closed his and once you did it was much easier to just focus on the sensation. His lips were soft, he tasted like the bowl of trix cereal he must have had before he came over. The way his lips moved with yours was… gentle, sweet, unhurried- you found yourself chasing them when he pulled away slightly and that caused you to open your eyes 

“You-“ he huffs a small chuckle “you have t’kiss back, Squish. S’like i’m kissing a wall here” he said. You took a shaky breath, not even realizing you were just sat there like a dead fish, unmoving, in awe that his lips were really on yours. If you hadn’t just finished your period a week ago you’d be scrambling to the bathroom to see what was going on because you were gushing. 

“Uh- sorry- sorry. I was just warming up” you clear your throat awkwardly, fingers tapping on your thighs nervously “lets try again” you said, leaning in and additionally mashing your nose with his “ow- oh- gosh, sorry” you giggle and he followed suit 

“S’not your fault my beak is getting in the way” he joked, gently tilting your face and bringing his lips back to yours. You got the message this time, moving your lips with his and wow. It felt…good. That heartbeat right above your cunt had never pulsed so hard before, it nearly hurt and you weren’t sure what to do about it with him right there. 

You’d usually use the firm corner of one of your throw pillows you kept on your bed when this uncomfortable sensation happened, thinking of exactly this - kissing Carmy - and hump it, and hump it, and hump it, until you were frustrated to tears because you still felt like you weren’t finished. That the feeling would never go away unless you stopped thinking about Carmy like that - but it was addictive, and you couldn’t help but think you were chasing something. 

It all elevated when you felt his tongue on your bottom lip, it was almost like the sensation in your core was beginning to travel throughout your entire body and that had never happened before. It went from just that strong pulsing in your cunt, travelling to a tightness that was winding up in your stomach, your breasts felt good - as strange as that thought was, the only time you remembered they were there was when they were sore because your period was coming, so the warm gushy feeling in your chest and the pangs of pleasure that were coursing through you from the simple swipe of his tongue was something to be revered.

From there, it was like you were following a script you hadn’t even known you’d memorized. Your hands found his shoulders, before travelling to the back of his neck and rubbing over the little curls at the base. You swipe your tongue over his, fingers sprawling over the back of his head to pull him in closer. You didn’t know what came over you, but you deepened the kiss, and he accepted. His hands found the back of your waist, squeezing gently and trailing up your sides, stopping hard below your breasts.

You pulled away, looking at him. If it was any other day, he’d have thought you were initiating a staring contest, but the blown-out look in your eyes and small pants leaving your lips reminded him of when their family cat had a little too much catnip and started climbing the screen doors, wild. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when the next question left your lips 

“Have you had sex before?” your voice was breathy, if you had known better you’d have called it for what it was - horny. The only thing on your mind was Carmy, not how your mom would be home any minute and you forgot to take out the chicken for dinner, not how it probably isn’t a normal thing for best friends or any friends really, to kiss. But you and Carmy hadn’t really ever been ‘normal’ friends. 

“Uhhh” he tried to find his words. He looked so pretty. His cheeks were the pretty flush pink you loved on him so much, it suited him. His lips were swollen and kiss bitten and red. You realized that the glossiness on them was a mixture of your salivas and that brought a burst of that delicious warmth to your chest. “N-no, haven’t have you- I mean- can you have sex without kissing?” he wondered out loud.

“I don’t want to leave high school a virgin” you blurt out. It was half true, you did feel a bit like a loser, even though you could always lie and tell people you had done it even if you hadn’t. It also felt like the one opportunity was presenting itself for you to have sex with your childhood crush and if he agreed, then a win is a win in your book.

“Alright and- and uh” he sits back on the headboard, huffing a chuckle and rubbing over his mouth as he thought, staring up at the ceiling to try and get a gauge on what he was about to say. It was one of the habits he’d picked up during all of your speech practice together, it was cute, almost like he was stopping the words from falling out of his mouth before he was ready to say them so it didn’t come out all jumbly and stuttered. “And you wan’t help with this- i’m assuming you see it as a problem? Thats why you brought it up, right? You want help with that…issue” he mused. 

Suddenly, you felt really, really shy. Shy, stupid, flustered, any synonym for embarrassed and feeling like a complete and utter moron. “I shouldn’t have said anything - i’m sorry, uh- you win” You got up, going over to your dresser and digging out your after-school clothes to change since you were in jeans still. Why the hell would you say that? What, was he gonna just offer to have sex with y-

“I-I mean- I don’t want to, either. I just uh- haven’t… y’know - met anyone who I trusted enough to do it with. But- it- it felt good… the kiss? So, if you wanted we could um..cause- cause I trust you, I trust you more then like…anyone- so, yeah- I-I mean it’s like- like a favor right? You uh…scratch my back- er whatever the saying is- if- if you want to” you looked back at him to see him rambling with his gaze locked on the floor, clearly feeling as stupid and embarrassed as you feel. 

Holy shit, this may actually happen. 

“Yeah- yeah” you agree, mulling it over in your mind. He’s right, this shouldn’t change your friendship, because from what you’d heard - losing said virginity wasnt fun, it was weird, uncomfortable, and a little gross sometimes, so it was almost like you two could get the awkward first time part out of the way together so you could both hit the ground running in terms of dating and hooking up when it came to college, cause that's what college was supposed to be all about, right? Finding the love of your life?

“Sure- Uh-” you swallow thickly and toss him one of the many pairs of sweatpants he kept in your dresser for when he slept over as well as a fresh t-shirt and grab yourself a clean pair of panties from your top drawer since although the awkwardness had taken away that dull needy ache, you were still uncomfortably wet and had to get yourself cleaned up and changed. “How about Friday? My parents have their date night so- you could come over after school and we can um…do it?” you ask and he nodded quickly, grabbing the sweatpants and sweatshirt.

“Yeah- perfect, that’s - mmhmm” he swallowed hard, cheeks bright red. You would totally be making fun of him right now if you weren’t absolutely sure you looked just as flustered, the two of you sharing at eachother in silence like a pair of deer in headlights. 

“I’m gonna go change” you said and left the room, closing the bathroom door behind you and sighing deeply to yourself, leaning against the door. 

And so it was set. 

Carmy had exactly 3 days to study up on this topic other than sophomore health class he knew absolutely nothing about. Well- he had found one of Michaels Playboy magazines before when he was 14, it was the first time he popped a boner and it freaked him out so bad since his father wasn’t very present and Mike hadn’t given him the talk yet. It was a solid 2 months of worrying that he had some weird dick cancer because he got hard every time he peeked through said porn-mag before he asked Mike about it, and he still hasn’t lived down the teasing. Thank god Mike kept his word on not telling Richie.

The moment he left your house that day it was straight to the Chicago public library. 3 books, 3 days. He was going to do his homework on this, because he was going to win the game he knew was inevitably pun intended coming his way. It was going to become a competition, and he knew the name of the game in sex was an orgasm, he knew that much at least, thank god. 

The 3 titles he’d settled on, 

Sex For Dummies ; He’d figured that should speak for itself, it sounded to him like the beginners guide to fucking. He wondered why every teen didn’t get a copy of this book, he’d heard guys talking about how sometimes girls are really bad in bed - so if everyone got one, like the dictionaries they all got in elementary school - he thought their lives would probably be made easier in that department.

She Comes First; and boy, was that a read. He stayed up so late Wednesday night reading it that you had to wake him in homeroom when the bell rang to go to first period. He didn’t know there were so many things to know about a vagina, but he was confident now he probably knew more then any guy in the school about pussys and what gets them going at least on paper once he read all 350 pages in one day.

He comes next; It made alot of sense. This was the breaziest read for him, he sat on the L after school reading it on the ride home. Of course, the front was covered in a brown paper bag he’d taped to it so no one could tell what he was reading, he wasn't a pervert! He was glad he read she comes first, first, because he’d learned that girls can cum more then once, and that when they do - it gets better each time. He also learned that the clit is the best part to touch, and that it actually has like- a tail? Or something? Inside that you can mess with too, and it feels super good for the girl. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to find something like that with his dick, but he guessed he’d figure it out.

The day was finally here. You had been thinking about it all week long. The prep you were doing was very different then the prep he was. You were making sure your entire body was smooth, plucking your eyebrows, waxing your upper lip, whitening your teeth, shaving your big toe. Literally, anything and everything grooming. You had put on a lacy pink thong that you’d gotten at the mall a year or so ago in preparation for the night you finally did this, but after observing yourself in the mirror you felt insecure about it. It was just Carmy, he wasn’t into you, it would be weird if you tried to be sexy, right? Like you were trying to seduce him or something? So you settled on some plain grey panties, instead, and a black bra. 

You heard a knock at the door right at 7. Exactly on time, per usual. Your parents had left for their date 20 minutes ago, so it was perfect timing. When you opened the door, you heart may as well have melted and poured out of your ass to see Carmy standing there with a bundle of red roses. “Hey- uh- so - got you these” he thrust them in your direction. They were already cut, and thornless, ready to be plopped in a vase. You could see a little bandage on the pinky finger of his non-dominant hand that wasn’t there at school today, he must have pricked himself while he was trimming them up. 

“Y’get a girl flowers, you trim em’ up, n’for the roses gotta take the thorns off, eh’? Don’t wan’t t’hurt ylady do you? And you trim ‘em cause girls like it, makes em’ all even n’shit. N’it Makes em’ live longer too. Y’givin a gift not a chore heard? Flowers need to be able to be dropped in a vase and that's it, otherwise y’re a prick f’givin’ y’r lady a job t’do” Mikey explained as he snipped the thorns off of the roses he’d gotten for his date. The conversation stuck with Carmy all these years, he promised himself one day he’d put the advice to use.

“Oh- wow - Bear, these are like -” you leaned in, smelling them deeply, the sweet floral sense filling your nose “Wow- this is so sweet of you, you didn’t have to” you stepped back and opened the door wider. He followed you in, shutting the door behind him like usual.

“Mikey says it’s what y’do I guess, so - expect flowers from guys you do this with” he nudged you with his shoulder playfully. The action made your heart flutter but also stomach sink , heavy with nerves. Right. He’s here to just get something over with, like he was probably expecting you to be and the flowers were just a result of him wanting to do things right and not because he had any real, tangible feelings for you other than platonic.

“Mmm, will do. Thanks- I’m gonna go get these in some water, you can get settled” you told him and headed into the kitchen to find a vase. When you came back to the room his hoodie was neatly folded and sitting on your desk, his shoes tucked away beneath it and there was a… towel? On your bed? 

“Uh-” you set the vase of flowers on your dresser 

“Right- uh- so the towel, they say in the books for your first time, sometimes girls will bleed a little? Or- or if I do it right things can get really wet, so…just trying to be proactive I didn’t wanna make a huge mess y’know?” he explained while staring at the towel and rubbing the back of his neck nervously how he did, heat creeping across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks.

“You…studied?” you smile a bit at the idea. You wondered how he did so, did he just watch porn?! You had heard from girls with boyfriends that watch porn - the sex was usually bad, and that they went way to hard and fast. You hoped it wasn’t that.

“Yeah I read some stuff.. How else will I know what the fuck m’doin?” he watched you as you sat down on top of the towel, assuming that was the spot he meant for you. 

“Uh- yea…yeah. Ok, well thanks- I guess I should have studied, too. Didn’t even think about it- my legs are soft, though. And I shaved my - um- yeah.” you said, voice getting meeker and smaller by the end. The two of you were never like this, it was usually constant banter and comfortable silence. Awkwardness wasnt something the two of you experienced together up until now.

“Thank you- you didn’t have to it’s…it’s just hair. But um…go pee, before we get started- you should pee.” he sat down on the bed in front of you. You looked at him confused, brows furrowing together but before you could ask he added “In the books, they said for girls - it can feel like…like you need to pee, right before the good part if I do it right. So, if I do do it right- I want you to be able to finish instead of worrying if you’ll pee on me, so I figured if you go pee now then-” you held your hand up, shaking your head as you stood.

“No further info needed” you said as you padded off to the bathroom. Even though the shower you had taken not even an hour prior to him coming over was so thorough made you fresh as the day you were born you still wiped up with babywipes before coming back to see 2 granola bars and 2 bottles of water on the nightstand. “Are you planning on making me pass out or something?” you joked, sitting back on the towel like before. 

He chuckled a bit “Well if i’m that good my first time it’ll be a record or something I bet” he rubbed his forearm nervously “So um..should we kiss? Like last time?” he asked, averting your gaze. You didn’t know this, but he thought he was genuinely about to have a heart attack, and the only reason he was continuing instead of asking you to call an ambulance was because if he was to die in your bed while making out because of the sheer excitement that came with the potential of you touching his dick, he would have died happy. 

The question being asked in that soft, sweet tone of his- syrupy and honest, made your stomach flip- and there was a pang of warmth to your heat that made your heart jump to your throat with anticipation. You couldn’t answer, instead, you just nodded, not breaking his gaze. Jesus fucking Christ those eyes. You had only seen the ocean once, in Hawaii on a vacation. His eyes made you think of the waters in Maui, that was how blue. You could get lost in them like they were the ocean, they often rendered you speechless, like he could peer into your soul. “Okay” he said gently.

This time, the kisses started small. He gently pecked the corner of your lips, before you remembered that yes you had a job to do here as well, and you put your hand gently on the side of his cheek, barely touching him. He could feel you shaking, so he put his hand over yours, gently squeezing your four fingers as his lips captured yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. The feeling was so…different then last time. This time felt much more purposeful, and not in the get it over with way, in the i’ve been meaning to do this, way.

Honestly, the feeling made you dizzy. Not dizzy in the kind of way that immediately made you want to throw up, -

 (Carmy learned you got very motion sick very quick at your 15th birthday party when he, Mike, Natalie, and Richie were teaching you how to play dead-man on the trampoline and within 10 seconds of being bounced with your eyes closed by the 4 of them you were scrambling to throw up a mix of cake and pasta) 

- but dizzy in the way that you weren't forming any kind of memory of the encounter, and you also weren’t sure what you were doing - but you came to with your shirt off, dry humping your best friend as he laid sprawled over your floral duvet panting into each others mouths as your childhood teddybear watched the two of you manhandle eachother, he honestly looked like he was judging, but you mentally told him to fuck off.

“Yeah-” he breathed, his cheeks were a pretty pink, his pupils “I-I think that was um…better then last time. Do you feel hot? I feel hot” he admitted, swallowing hard as you both caught your breath. You looked down and oh, yeah - he's still fully dressed. You were still mostly dressed, too. Well, your shirt - you hadn’t a clue where it went, but your fluffy pajama pants were still suffocating your thighs and holy shit..

He is hard as a rock against your clothed pussy right now. 

You look back up at him, and nod in agreement. “Feels like - wow- yeah. Uh- m’hot” you got up and saw the evidence of his arousal straining against his jeans. “Uh- so…” you trail off 

“I think i’m supposed to do that part” he sat up, taking his shirt off in that silly boyish way with one fluid motion pulling it up over the back of his head, his sandy blonde hair becoming ruffled by the action. You look over his chest, not even bothering to not stare. That was the point of this whole thing right, to experience? In turn, he crossed his arms shyly, to be expected. Carmy had been open about his upset that he got more of his moms genes then his dads. He was short, softer-jawed, smaller-lipped, and bigger-eyed, the only thing he got was the big Italian Berzatto nose. 

His brother was tall, much broader, was able to grow a full face of stubble by 17. Carmy was still patchy, but he was proud of his little patch of curly brown hair in the middle of his chest. Mike kept telling him he would ‘grow like a weed’ as soon as he turned 20, he didn’t believe it, though. 

“Oh- yea? Thats what they said in your sex books” you teased and stepped forward, between his spread thighs, likely to give his dick breathing room. His hands found your hips as he snorted a chuckle 

“Shut up” he smiled and carefully pulled down the waistband of your pajama bottoms. “I did read…” he helped you step out of them, hands trailing up the backs of your now bare thighs. The action made goosebumps appear on your flesh, nearly made you shiver. “That you are supposed to cum first, it’s like…a warm up.” he explained, looking up at you as he made his way to hold your hips again. You realized quickly, that his hands were also trembling, and he kept stroking and petting you hoping you wouldn’t notice as much. 

Your panties had a dark spot on them that he became fixated on momentarily, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You felt that twitching at his words, your hole clenching around absolutely nothing. You weren’t sure you could remember what color the sky was if someone asked at that moment, you were so focused on Carmy, it was like you two and this bedroom were the only things in the universe. “I haven’t been able to do it, I don’t think you’ll be able to - but you can try. How do you want to do this should I just lay down and I dunno… you stick it in? I got 3 boxes of condoms, different kinds just in case” you went to open your nightstand and he stopped you, grabbing your hand. 

He chuckled a bit, you took it as a you don’t know what you’re doing, let me explain kind of laugh, but really he was just wondering how the following words came out of his mouth “I’m supposed to eat your pussy, could I try?” 

You swore your knees went weak. Carmen, Carmen Berzatto wanted to go down on you. Thank god you made sure that department was taken care of so well in preparation. “Uhhh- alright” you sat down on the towel, twiddling your fingers nervously “So- wow uh” you giggle nervously, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“Your um..you look pretty, by the way” he said while looking at the duvet. He sounded as nervous as he was when he said that. He had thought you looked pretty from the moment he walked through the door, but was too nervous until you were both literally almost naked to say it. You could hardly believe it, because you did your best to not put in a ton of effort. Sure, you were very well groomed, but you didnt like - dress up or put makeup on or do your hair how you would have wanted, you were in regular bra and panties, and pajamas when he walked in. You were also pretty sure that you had a zit growing on your chin and really hoped he hadn’t noticed.

But, that was exactly why he thought you looked so pretty. He loved that you let him have you like this, well - in both senses. He felt so lucky to be able to see you comfortable, in your element. “Thanks, dork, so do you get the honors of taking my panties too?” you teased. That was the difference between you, when you got nervous you cracked jokes and made fun of him to ease the tension in your own mind  - when he got nervous he often got lost in the tension of his own mind causing him to go quiet. 

“I do actually, says the book- so lay down” he shoots back in the same teasing tone, a small smile gracing his lips once again. You, and his brother were the only 2 that could pull him out of his head so fast, and so easily. You shook your head, laying back on the pillows he’d set up and spreading your legs, laying your feet flat on the bed. He sat in front of you, running a hand up your leg and feeling over the soft, smooth skin. “You are really soft” he muttered, almost to himself, feeling up your thigh “Do you mind if I kiss you, here?” he asked gently, running a palm over the inner of your thigh. No one had ever touched you there, so the action made you shiver since the area was surprisingly sensitive.

“Sure” you said quietly, watching his every move with wide, curious eyes. You were sure the wet spot on your panties had grown tremendously due to the way you felt dripping down the curve of your ass, thank god for that towel when they come off or my sheets would probably soak through by the end of this. He started at your ankle, leaving gentle pecks and putting your manicured foot on his shoulder as he continued his journey of kissing up your shin, over your knee, not leaving a single part unkissed. If this is what sex was about, you totally got why all your friends were raving about it, because you were being driven absolutely wild and it hadn’t even really started yet. 

He kissed up to your thigh, laying down in between your legs. His forearms were wrapped around the plush of your thighs, hugging them as he left kisses over the waistband of your panties. The action made your stomach muscles clench at how good he was making you feel. You needed something to touch you, though. That was the only thing on your mind, but before you could ask - he beat you to it. “Would you be ok with me kissing your middle here?” his voice was husky, breathy. He was gripping your thighs so his hands wouldn't shake, he was fucking panting like he just ran the mile in P.E. and he wasn’t sure why. 

His mouth was watering at the smell of you, he had to fucking swallow a mouthful of spit before he could say something. He felt like a fucking starved animal, but he was gathering every polite, gentlemanly fiber of his being to remain kind, gentle. “Please do” you said and without hesitation, he was essentially making out with your cunt through your panties. The sight was filthy, but so sexy it was making your head spin. 

Whines and moans were leaving your throat you weren’t even aware of as you watch him, slack jawed and sucking at the fabric of your panties, grunting and moaning at the flavor. “T-take em off…please-” you weren’t sure where the bedroom voice that came out of you came from, but he seemed to like it at the way his eyes rolled and fluttered shut at the way you were begging for him to eat you out. 

He sat up just enough to get your panties pulled off, shoving them in the back pocket of his jeans before laying back down and resuming his position. “Taste so, so good, squish, better than I imagined” he said before kissing your mound. The wet clicking sound of your pussy clenching at his words made heat rush your cheeks in embarrassment, but it made his dick twitch against his jeans. “Can I kiss your clit?” he asked, the casualness of his tone made your head fall back on the pillow, covering your face with embarrassed hands at the vulgarity of it all.

“Go ahead, Bear” you said, smile lacing your voice. 

“I liked it when you were lookin’ at me, just so you know” he said, spreading you out with his fingers and looking for just a moment, he found it easily as it had grown nearly twice it’s size, peeking out of its hood. He attached his lips to it, just like the book he’d read said to do, and lightly sucked, before flicking his tongue lightly over it. Your hand clamps over your mouth to stifle the cry that left your throat, hips jerking and you grab his hair with your other hand, not even meaning to but tugging. 

This caused a moan to leave his throat, which in turn caused his lips to vibrate, and you looked down at him, vision hazy like a dream at the sensation. “God- oh god- feels so good Bear - wow- you’re so good at this” you said, breath heavy and jaw slack “uh-huh” you whine when he pads his tongue over your clit in wide, wet drags. The sounds his mouth was making as he sucked and kissed and lapped at your juices were absolute sin, the hottest shit you’d ever heard. 

“D’you like it more when I kiss your clit like I was doin’ or when I run my tongue on it like that?” he asked, sucking at your folds and nose nudging your clit as he waited for an answer. 

“Both - Both- everything feels good - you feel so good” you praised, pushing his bangs from his face. He smiled into you proudly, continuing to lick, and suck, and swirl his tongue. It had been a knot building for a while, and it had been about 30 minutes of him doing this, when you felt it. But, all the activities you’d been engaged in the conversation you had before you started slipped your mind. “Fuck- fuck - sorry- I gotta pee” you told him and tried to tug him off

“Y’dont, trust me, just trust me” he said determined, he had told himself before going into this that if he could make you cum, that it would be his prize because per the books he’d read one of the main complaints with women was that their male partners didn’t bother to be sure they finished, so if you never wanted to do this again - he’d pride himself internally forever on be the very first man to ever make you cum. 

You whined, back arching to the ceiling and hips dipping back into the bed. You didn’t want him to stop, so you weren’t sure why you were subconsciously trying to wiggle away. Your eyes had been closed for a few moments, and you felt a hand on your stomach, dancing fingers following it. You opened them to see him looking up at you, and his eyes flicker to his hand that was laying palm up on your belly before meeting your gaze again, in a silent ask for you to hold his hand. 

Without thinking, you did so, needing to be grounded in that moment. His thumb rubbed soothing strokes on the back of your hand as he built up the speed of his tongue, running it back and forth and up and down, flicking it, sucking on the sensitive nub until your brain turned to mush, and stars filled your vision. 

“Carmy Carmy- Oh shit- Yes” 

The grand finale only lasted about a minute or two, but by the end your thighs were shaking and you were gasping for breath. “Y’need to breathe, did you forget humans need oxygen to live?” he teased. You’d usually give him a light punch on the shoulder for that, but your whole body felt like warm jelly. 

“Shut up” you pant, looking down when you feel your clit twitching every few moments “I think you broke it its like.. Having a seizure or something” you said and you both burst into giggles. After a few moments of comfortable quiet you nudge him with your foot “Hey” he looks up at you “Its your turn now” you said and his brows raised

“Y-you don’t have t’do that, that was sex, so - congratulations we are both not virgins” he wiped his chin on the inside of his arm and sat up. You furrowed your brow

“No- I want to, I can make you cum, too ” you said, in your mind, it was a challenge - and when it came out of your mouth you realized how it sounded.

“Are you… asking me for permission to suck my dick?” he looked at you carefully. Shyly, you just nod. For whatever reason the nature of the room and this particular situation had the two of you acting out of traditional character roles, and he was the one being bold. “I want you to say it, then you can suck my dick” he said and stood up, unbuttoning his jeans and looking at you, brows raised expectantly as he waited for you to do as he asked.

Your throat suddenly felt dry, and you were starting to drip on that damn towel again. “Bear, I wanna suck your cock, Can I please?” you asked, tone innocent yet laced with a confident determination. His breath got caught in his throat, you swore his eyes could have fallen out. He didn’t know the word cock was apart of your very colorful vocabulary, he could have creamed his boxers with the way that the word rolled off of your tongue. 

“Sure” he said all too casual and tugged off his jeans, kicking them to the side. He laid down with you, like how he was while you were making out and you got on your knees tugging the waistband of his boxers until his cock came out and kissed his navel, the tip glistening with pre. 

“So-” you look at it, mouth watering at the sight. You had never done this, but you were sure that you knew one thing for sure, Carmy had a really pretty cock. You didn’t even realize you were staring until he said 

“S’not gonna suck itself, squish.” 

Oh, right, that was what you were doing. You grab it and he hissed “Fuckin’ hell- y’tryna rip it off? A little nicer, please” he chuckled a bit and you felt your cheeks heat, loosening your grip. 

“Sorry…” you said sheepishly, bending over and licking the tip of it, one slow drag from the back of your tongue to the tip of it, flicking your tongue over the slit your nose scrunching slightly at the new flavor. The action though, had Carm seeing stars and his toes curling.

“Hhhhnnn- oh my fucking god” he rasped. You figured that was a good thing, so you did it again “Squish I-” and again, “yes- fuck” and again, “Squish i-i’m gonna mmmmmffff” he whined, his cock twitching in your hand and leaking pre in a near continuous drip. You had no expirience, so you had no idea what this meant, or that he was trying to warn you. With 3 more slow sensual ball to tip licks, he was shooting cum all over your nose, upper lip, tongue, and chin. You squeak in surprise, sitting up and licking your lips. “Oh- hmmmmfuck- gimme a sec” he groaned, taking over for you and stroking himself, the remainder of his load shooting over his stomach. 

You watched in awe as he got himself off, back lightly arched and head fallen back, eyes closed as sexy pants and moans left his lips, along with soft “fuck - thank you, thank you” It was literally the hottest thing you had ever seen. He stopped after a moment, finding his breath and looking up at you, when he saw your milky white chin it both made his softening dick twitch and drew a chuckle from him. “When I keep saying im gonna do something and my dick is leaking like a broken sink it means open up er get out of the splash zone” he joked and grabbed his shirt, wiping your chin and neck. 

You laughed, laying back down and sighing contently. “Noted for next time” you said and he fixed his boxers, sitting up and stroking your calf. 

“There can be a next time? I mean…. I was hoping so that was really fun, felt really good” he said and you nod, smiling a bit 

“Sure, I mean, yeah… but it doesn’t mean we stop like- doing friend stuff, right?” you questioned. As much fun as you had, you could never give up something as treasured as your friendship for something as trivial as sex. 

“Oh, absolutely, who else is gonna wait w’me to get the new spiderman comics? And whos gonna feed you when your parents are out of town?” he teased and you rolled you eyes playfully, smiling and shaking your head. 

“Love you, dork” you bit your lip as he brought your other ankle to his lips. 

“Love y’too, Squish. Can I?” he looked down at your glistening core, before back at you. You bit your lip lightly, you weren’t sure if all men were this enthusiastic about eating pussy - but you were thankful that he was because your mind was still swimming from the last time and you had to experience it again. 

“Mmhmm” you spread your legs wider for him and he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he got to work. You had found quickly that when you tell him something feels good or he’s doing a good job that it really got him going. It was cute, truly, how he loved being praised, so you made sure to do it whenever you could get something out that wasn't a babbled, coherent mess since the pleasure he was providing was causing your brain to short circuit.

An hour and a half and 3 orgasms later, after about 10 minutes of trying to catch your breath and cool down since you were boiling from the blood coursing your system like an F1 racetrack, you sit up. “M’gonna go get cleaned up” you said, going to get up on wobbly legs.

“No! No, I got it lay down don’worry” he said and made his way to the bathroom. He came back with babywipes and a wet wash cloth, as well as a dry clean towel to wipe off with after. He helped you wipe up and knowing your bedroom by heart, he went over to your dresser and got you a fresh set of panties and a tshirt, as well as a pair of his sweatpants so you could both be comfortable. After you had both gotten dressed, he laid in your bed after bringing the towel downstairs to the wash for you both as well as your dirty clothes, and you cuddled into his chest as you turned on your little tv, playing the next episode of Glee and he hands you a granola bar after being sure you had a few sips of water to replenish.

“To no longer being virgins, hm?” he smiled a bit, holding his bar up in a silly idea of a toast. You tap yours to his with a grin

“To no longer being virgins”

[robbinghisdick]

Slade descending off his dragon to present Dick with an engagement present a dragon egg(Nightwing)

(I got carried away)

The dragon can be spotted in the distance long before it arrives. Even without the distinctive black and gold scales, there was only one uninvited dragon rider bold enough to even try.

"We can react defensively," Bruce offers, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "We are well within our rights to shoot down a potential threat."

Dick was half tempted to agree but sighs and shakes his head. "Let him come."

For nearly a year now, Slade Wilson had made his interest in the crown Prince of Gotham well known. On paper alone it was a scandalous proposal. Slade was a disgraced noble from another kingdom, old enough to haved fathered Dick himself. Already married once with children and divorced after the reveal of a bastard child. His status was only upheld by his many connections and vicious warrior spirit.

It wasn't very long ago when Dick was a victim of Slade's ferocity. Dick wasn't an idle prince and was often out and about in his own country. There were a few run ins with Slade that had been particularly nasty. Swords clashed, and after a few times, Slade had almost seemed to enjoy himself.

Since then a truce had been made and they hadn't seen each other until a ball held by a mutual ally.

Dick had been certain Slade asked him to dance just to make him squirm, and he had only accepted out of courtesy. It was a whispered, catty exchange, leaning in perhaps a bit too close to avoid the ears of nosey gossips.

When they parted, Slade had kissed Dick's hand and met his eyes with the slightest smile and a purred, "I'll be seeing you soon."

Dick took it as a threat.

When an offer for marriage arrived just days later, the whole family seemed to share a similar disbelief.

"He's absolutely still trying to kill you," Damian said. "Or trying to humiliate you."

"Definitely a powerplay," Jason agreed.

The offer was neither rejected nor accepted.

It wasn't expected to answer a marriage offer immediately in any case. There was supposed to be time to allow for consideration and negotiation. Time to court.

The last thing Dick had been expecting for Slade to actually court him. He'd intended to ignore the marriage offer altogether. An offer made in contempt did not deserve the respect of an official rejection.

Then the gifts came. They started out small and reasonable like rings and fancy pen sets, but escalated into carefully crafted daggers and a frustratingly beautiful sword. Dick never carried any of them on his person, knowing that doing so would be an unofficial acceptance.

The one that felt the most like an engagement ring was the dragon scale necklace, a gorgeous piece Dick had been tempted to wear on more than one occasion, proposal be damned.

Between these gifts, they saw each other a handful of times. Slade left very little unclear about his intentions during those brief meetings. He had Dick dance with him if appropriate at social gatherings and challenged him to a sparring session if away from whispering courts. Either way, he could feel the stares from others. Dick was already a hot topic, and not rejecting Slade's public advances certainly wasn't helping.

Slade had only come to the kingdom once before and that had been to speak with the King. That time he had sent a note in advance and arrived by horse. As the marriage offer hadn't been answered, it was due for an in-person meeting.

It wasn't "proper" for Dick to be involved in his own marriage negotiation, sent off by his father as he spoke with Slade.

In the ene, Bruce hadn't accepted or denied anything on Dick's behalf. There was quiet judgement and an unasked question of why Dick hadn't told Bruce to reject the offer.

As Slade flew in closer to the castle, Dick knew that Slade wanted an answer. He was done waiting.

When he landed, Dick firmly told the guards to stand back and approached Slade alone. He knew somewhere his siblings and father were doubtlessly watching him through a window. There was no privacy with Slade making such a grand entrance.

There was a heavy thud! of Slade's boots hitting the ground as he dismounted the dragon. It took a good bit of self-control to not marvel at the beast and keep his gaze steady on the man in front of him.

"Hello, little bird," Slade greets, the nickname sounding more endearing than mocking as of late.

"If you wanted attention, you've certainly gotten it," Dick says instead of greeting Slade properly. "This is bold, even for you."

Slade let out a snort, eyebrow raising at the informal behavior. "Maybe I'm tired of waiting."

"Maybe you should've given up."

The man took a few steps closer, towering over Dick, "I'm a very persistent man," he says, voice low and a grin on his face. "And you haven't told me no."

Dick's gaze didn't waver as his head titled up to hold his stare.

Slade looks away only to reach for something at his waist, a satchel that hadn't gone unnoticed by Dick when the man first approached. It likely held another courting gift, Dick assumed.

Out of all the things Dick had been anticipating, a dragon egg was not one of them. The surprise could not be kept from his expression as he stared at the dark egg, the crystalline black shell glittering spectacularly in the late afternoon light.

"Dragons lay an egg once a decade," Dick says faintly, stopping his hands from instinctively reaching for it as Slade holds it towards him. They were valuable beyond belief.

"It is custom for a spouse to ride beside me rather than with me."

Dick glances up to meet Slade's eye, part of him still not really believing that the man was truly serious in all of this. There wasn't a teasing smile on his face anymore, fully serious and awaiting Dick's next move.

Dick reached out and accepted the egg.

[camelspit]

no bc nevermore is so funny how is prospero the only normal one in the posh kids group even after eating people alive with a horde of rats

[lord-squiggletits]

pharma really is such an interesting case. one thing i’ve always felt with pharma is that he absolutely doesn’t want consequences. and facing up to it requires a lot of looking at and showing people what he’s done and you know. the consequences. i mean hell he’d rather start a plague than say “hey i got coerced into doing a very bad thing by the djd”

I do understand what you mean about Pharma not wanting to face consequences, but on the other hand, I kind of understand why Pharma made a plague rather than admit to medical malpractice/murder? Because like, the thing that I don't see brought up often enough with regards to Pharma is that blackmail... is blackmail. Like, as someone who's unfortunately been on the receiving end of blackmail, the entire point of blackmailing someone is that you corner them into doing bad things by convincing them that they CAN'T turn to an authority figure to ask for help. Like, the person doing the blackmailing generally convinces the person who's getting blackmailed that if they try to reach out for help, the law/authorities/etc either won't care about their predicament or will punish them for the bad thing they did that they're getting blackmailed about.

I kind of feel like (and this isn't an attack on you, just a commentary about the nature of blackmail) when someone like Ratchet looks at Pharma and says "but you could've called for help or shut down the clinic or anything!", it kind of ignores the fact that...... when you're being blackmailed you're fucking terrified, and people who are terrified generally don't jump to the most rational, safe solutions possible? When you add in the fact that Pharma was blackmailed by Tarn of the DJD, notorious hater of Autobots and fanatic leader of a torture club, it's not hard to imagine that Pharma was both afraid and in pain (or threat of pain) while at Delphi and thus wouldn't be thinking straight about it.

I don't know, like. Yeah, on one hand Pharma made a plague and killed a bunch of people to try and cover up his crimes and maintain his career. But he didn't just do it for ego related reasons, he was also almost certainly facing threats of torture and death.

[britneyshakespeare]

re: my last post rambling about my siblings: i also realize of course that not everyone who has siblings has as good a relationship to them as i do, and that can be for any number of reasons, can have any number of resolutions, including just begrudgingly accepting that your sibling(s) are never gonna be the closest people in your life. i talked about how the bond i have with mine is akin to a commitment, because all of us prioritize each other, but i don't mean to make it sound idyllic or like it should be the universal standard. i am lucky but i am not naive. not everyone gets the siblings they would most wish to have, or some people just aren't that close to them and i don't particularly have a blanket judgment to make of that in all cases. however...

that guy i made a bunch of personal posts over the summer about because he was an emotionally abusive friend that i had to cut off, who asserted way too much control over my life, who was guilt-tripping and manipulative and sought to silence me etc etc etc he really was just never very accepting of me for who i was, never expressed interest in anything about me that didn't have to do with him, etc etc etc just that JERK guy who i still have nightmares about a few times a month. it took me a long time to accept that he wasn't just "depressed" and "anxious" but that he was actively using people; he wasn't accepting of harmony but always wanted control over others and their narratives, etc etc etc. there were certain sides of him i didn't see much because i got to know him in a rather isolated way. we had mutual contacts but i never worked with him or had a class with him or really even met him a few times before he started spilling his heart and soul to me privately and said i'm his best friend and i'm the only one who understands and supports him and basically pressured me to make him my project 24/7 and was incredibly disrespectful towards me whenever i asserted my own independence from him or just. wanted to see someone other than him or even just wanted to be by MYSELF. jesus. what a nightmare that guy was. IS, because i know he can't have changed and he probably never will.

THAT guy has a sibling. he has a little brother four years younger than him, and that guy was about two years younger than me. so his brother turned 18 this year. he graduated from high school. his brother is YOUNG, all things considered. and as much as he would constantly pour his heart out and gripe about every person he ever came into contact with (and as much as i now distrust a lot of the information he told me because i know he'll only ever say flattering things about himself and never speak forgivingly or with any nuance towards someone he labels now as "bad", including me)... the only time that i didn't really know how to listen with as open a heart was when he would start talking about how awful his little brother is. i'd be like, ok, so you had terrible friends in high school. all the people in your classes are shitty to you. this person has done you wrong and this person is awful and your parents and your family suck and this and that and this. no one has ever been good to you in your entire life except me? ok.

the ONLY time i was like "i don't know if i can take this at face value, i think you're being too harsh..." is when he would talk about his little brother. because i was like, well, from everything you're telling me, his problems sound like something he can very well grow out of. he'd be like oh he's PRETENTIOUS. lol ok. he's a senior in high school, of course he sometimes acts like he knows everything. why do you act like he's a lost cause? i could also tell that there must've been some personal jealousy in there bc his brother was kind of the "more accomplished" sibling, did better in school, that sort of thing. i don't know what it's like to be an older sibling or to feel like you're living in the shadow of a sibling, especially a younger one, because i've always kind of been on a different path than any of my siblings/there hasn't really been a sense of competition between us. i would try to give him the benefit of the doubt and be like "well i guess i really don't know what that's like" because you CAN'T assume. i give EVERYONE the benefit of the doubt and i try to take people, especially when they're being vulnerable with me, at their word, which is exactly how i got so involved with this guy and ended up being so used by him and under his thumb. horrible. he's a monster. anyway.

and whenever i'd be like "well he's just a kid" to every negative thing he'd say about his little brother, that's when he'd dismiss the subject and stop talking about it. and this isn't something that came up a couple of times but came up a LOT. he'd shit talk his brother to me at least several times a week, always unprompted, because why would i wanna hear someone badmouth a teenager? and it'd always be the pettiest shit. one time he even told me that he noticed his brother didn't come home last night and he didn't know where he was and i was like "oh my god is he ok? that's terrifying" and it's like he did that just so he could tell me "no i don't really care honestly. the two of us aren't close." it's like he wasn't just not-close with this kid but he was obsessed with hating him.

not only did his reasons never seem to satisfy me, but he never seemed to acknowledge that his little brother shared all of the traumas and adverse experiences he grew up with, the discrimination he faced and the familial trauma and the structures of abuse he would tell me about from his parents. he would mention how these are all the problems and the reasons he can't trust people and why he's so fucked up but he didn't seem to have any patience or empathy for someone younger than him brought up in the same exact environment. it's like he wanted his brother to always just fuck off and die.

none of this made any sense to me, it was if anything the BIGGEST sense of confusion i had with him for a long time because i dismissed all the ways he was cruel to *just me* until i started picking up all his patterns and realizing this all WASN'T just how he treats me. HE is the problem; HE is this entitled and controlling and nasty and manipulative towards everyone; HE has no self-awareness or regard for other people. it's not just ME not having the guts to stand up for myself when he made me feel uncomfortable or when i'd feel disrespected by something he said to/about me. he would know when he was saying something unacceptable or losing his temper; he did it with other people all the time. but he isolated and then lovebombed me so hard that i didn't see that this WAS how he treated everyone, but he made me in particular his prey because i was a trusting and trustworthy stranger, rather than someone who had seen him behave in such a way towards other people and could make the informed choice to stay away from him. it was never JUST ME but how could i have known that?? how?? i didnt know anything about his life except what he'd tell me, and he was actively sucking me away from all parts of my life he wasn't involved in, and/or forcing his way into them. there was no space between him and me; my life became his because he hijacked it and then forced me to do all his emotional labor and solve all his problems so i'd hardly have any energy to face my own.

anyway. yeah. it all made MUCH more sense when i realized HE is the problem between him and his brother. that didn't stick out as a red flag because again i'm trusting and i accept all these hypothetically broken or damaged familial relationships people have. HE really wanted me to hate this teenager for no good reason, like he wanted me to hate everyone else in his life that he'd ever decide to cast as a villain. i never understood why the teenage boy. never understood it. i'm like he's just a boy. OH but you're an awful horrible jerk who can't get along with anyone for longer than 2 minutes before you try and take control of everything about them and then lash out if they try to assert their independence. OOOHHH ok i get it now that makes sense. because that's what you've been doing to me all this time ohhh i get it.

[shotmrmiller]

tw: mentions of roofies, murder, then smut:)

cbf!simon would absolutely kill for you.

cbf!simon has always been your partner in crime.

even in your youth, back when he was built like a daffodil, he was always by your side. kept you safe from the mean girls at school, always got in trouble for throwing hands at boys who made crass comments at you and the like. then he'd left his butcher job to join the military. "I gotta learn how to keep you safe, love. i'll always come back to ya."

and he had. he returned to you almost four times his size; he left a boy and came back a man. down to your very bones, you knew that he would always keep you safe.

which is why he was the first person you called when the guy next to you at the bar roofied your drink. the beer fizzed irregularly and had an almost milky colour even though it was an ipa.

the idiot had dared to smile at you, an oily, crooked grin with yellow teeth, and lifted his own glass to toast with you.

you bolted out of your seat in seconds, heading straight to the ladies' room, and dialed.

he answered on the second ring.

"please come get me." you hadn't meant to sound as terrified as you felt.

"be there in 5," then hung up.

he lived 15 minutes away from the dingy bar.

true to his word, he was there in 5, texting where you were at.

inside the ladies bathroom.

he let himself in, put his jacket around your quivering shoulders, and with a strong, comforting arm, guided you toward the exit and into his truck. simon remained silent as he sat you in the passenger seat, gently pulling the seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place.

he stood next to you, his hands resting on your jean-clad thighs, waiting patiently for you to explain.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you sort out your thoughts. you no longer felt afraid, that much was certain. simon has always been your pillar of strength. there was nothing to fear with him at your side.

so why do your hands continue to tremble? digging deeper, you realize that you're angry. no.

furious.

some imbecile thought he'd take advantage of you. if you'd been any more drunk, you would have been a victim— wound up lifeless in a dirty ditch.

you burned with fury, your blood boiling under your skin. how dare he? how dare he?

simon softly touches your tightly clenched hands, coaxing your fingers to unfurl.

everything pulls hard to port when your eyes land on his disfigured knuckles— scarred by battle. you've never liked what simon did for a living. he just fought and killed people that some higher-up told him were the bad guys.

in war, there is no good or bad side. the field is too soaked in blood for anyone to recognize where the line is if there even was one to begin with.

until now. just this once, you couldn't be more grateful that simon possesses the skills he does.

you make your decision. "there was a guy in there. green hat, ugly brown jacket with yellow, crooked teeth. he drugged my beer, then toasted me so i would drink it."

his hands tighten around yours marginally. "and now i'm here, safe, with you. but he's still in there, with potentially a pocket full of pills, on the lookout for his next victim. how am i supposed to sleep tonight, knowing that if someone goes missing tonight, the blood will be on my hands?"

you cut your eyes to his dark, hardened ones, and the words tumble out of your mouth with surprising ease.

"there's trash in there that needs throwing out, simon."

nothing but a wretched mongrel that needs to be put down.

simon's nod is subtle, but it's there. you exhale a shuddering breath, heart slamming against your ribcage.

he's a gun in your hand, and you've just pulled the trigger.

simon hands you the keys to the truck. "are you sober enough to drive home?" he quietly asks.

hard to keep a buzz when you almost became a victim of—

"yes."

he's opening the glove compartment, taking out his skeleton gloves, and a tac knife that he tucks inside the waistband of his jeans.

"go home. i'll see ya in a bit." his voice is flat, lifeless.

simon closes the door and raps his knuckles on the hood of the truck before heading inside.

and so the elephant marches to war.

-

it's well past midnight when he crawls in through your window. one moment his boots are on the windowsill, the next he's pinning you onto your mattress, hips flush against yours.

his chilly, clean hands lift the hem of your loose shirt, dimpling the soft skin that his fingers dig into— his bare lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"he is no longer a problem."

he grinds his clothed erection against the flimsy fabric of your sleeping shorts.

"you did the right thing by telling me what he did."

simon trails a path of open-mouthed kisses from your ear down to your mouth, licking your bottom lip.

"nothing gets me harder than when my girl looks at me to keep her safe."

your breath hitches when a hand begins to move south, lifting the waistband of your bottoms and sliding his fingers over your slick pussy. "it seems you like it too. does it turn you on, ordering me around like a dog? i bark at your command, pet."

one finger sinks into your wet heat, his groan drowning out your own.

"you like having this much power over me? how easily i bend to your will?" he croons.

there are two fingers in you now, so much thicker than your own, and the way they curl and drag along your nerves has your toes tingling. he takes you to the precipice at frightening speed— the expert hands that kill without remorse are the same ones that are bringing you your pleasure.

he thrusts his fingers into you with an obscene squelch and a thumb circles your slippery clit.

"i'd burn the world to ashes if you asked it of me."

the coil in your stomach is tight, your body tense in anticipation.

"so... would you? would you ask me to bring the world to its very knees?"

the answer sits on the tip of your tongue when you climax around his fingers, walls pulsing rhythmically, arousal dripping from his knuckles.

later will be a good time to reflect on how you don't feel even remotely guilty for what's been done.

for now, you focus on how good simon feels as he slowly sinks into you, splitting you wide open with his heavy cock.

-

simon finds no pills in the guy's pockets. no baggie, no bottle.

nothing.

shame that his little love has declared the guy's life forfeit.

your wish is his command.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

A Week (He Will Take You)

~

Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.

This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.

Anyway

This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,

They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.

They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.

Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.

Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.

In other words they were stuck in Gotham

Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.

Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,

Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.

You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.

Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.

But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.

"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"

This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.

"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"

That was it.

The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.

But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,

Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.

The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty

Like no one had been living in it.

People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.

Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.

~

Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"

Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "

~

Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"

~

Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."

Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."

Bruce: "Hn."

Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"

~

Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"

Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"

~

Just an Idea

[sistertotheknowitall]

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction To You Panty-Flashing Them

Warnings: Implied Smut, Mean! MW2, Dominant! MW2, Victim/Reader Blaming, Slut-Shaming, Reader Getting Pimped Out, Mention of a Leash, Allusions to Injury, Mentions of Blood, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

Ghost is a territorial man. So seeing you flash not only him but Johnny as well made something in him simmer.

It wasn’t rage, for this little accident, regardless of how intentional it was, was not your fault. If he had to place it, he’d attribute it to…

Lust.

As was evident in how he excused himself from the gathering of the 141 and Los Vaqueros in your living room, grabbing you by your arm.

He stowed you away. Dragged you to a desolate laundry room and gripped you by your thighs. You gasped, gripped onto him. Felt something hard rub against you.

Ghost threw you atop the washing machine and gave you a harsh stare as he watched you try to fight the feeling building within from the machine’s buzzing and shuffling.

“Go on then, Doll,” he rasps, eyes hard and the throbbing monster between his legs harder. He palmed himself. Remorse was not in his nature. And neither was mercy.

“Seein’ as you were practically beggin’ the others to fuck you, go and put on a show.”

His voice lowered. He stood between your legs, frame blocking you from any form of help or salvation.

“Just for me.”

König

König had been sat on your sofa, an action figure in a house for a doll half his size, and you’d bent over to retrieve something from beneath the TV cabinet.

The fact that you were wearing a pair of König’s shorts was already clouding his moral compass. Seeing your underwear peeking out beneath them was what sent him over the edge.

As you remained bent, cheek pressed to the floor as you reached for what you’d lost, you didn’t hear König approach. Didn’t know he’d even moved from the sofa until something thick and hard was pressed to the back of you, followed by two heavy hands holding you at the waist, and a slow, shuttering breath.

“Don’t move,” König told you. “Stay like this.”

Slowly, he pressed deeper into you. You could feel his restraint unwinding second by second.

It was when he bent over you, had his broad chest pressed to your back, that you knew you weren’t escaping. And you weren’t backing down.

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you cum, bleed or pass out.” König’s voice held no humour, but you could feel the franticity building in it.

He reached round, gripped your chin. Made you look at him. His smile was sharp, his features dark.

“Whichever comes first.”

Soap

Johnny pulled the leash tighter around your throat when you tried to protest your innocence. Tried to make him see reason.

“Doesn’t matter that it was ‘just an accident’.” He mimicked you, made you sound weak, whiny. His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. His knuckles turned white around the leash.

His shadow loomed over you from your position on the bed, on your hands and knees while Johnny presided over you with an iron fist.

Tears obscured his silhouette. Made your eyes glassy.

“Aww, Did I upset you, Bonnie?” Johnny’s tone held a gruffness that didn’t even try to hide the anger running beneath.

He huffed, a mocking laugh.

“How’d’ya think I felt when you were practically spreading your legs for Simon?”

Again, you tried to tell him what really happened. Tried to incur any fragment of mercy Soap would spare you.

He pulled on the leash again. Tighter. You gasped, hands flying up to the leather around your neck, trying to loosen it – to plead for Johnny’s favour – as the air was knocked out of you.

“Oh no, you don’t get to talk.” He said. He stepped to you. The bulge in his jeans became ever more noticeable. Impending.

“M’gonna use you like the whore you are ‘til my cum’s leaking out of every hole in your body.”

Valeria

“Do I look like I fucking care, Darling?” Valeria circled you, her belt wrapped around her hand, a glint of darkness in her eye.

Wrists and ankles duct-taped to the chair, you could do little to follow her. To understand her intentions.

“Do you really think whatever little lie you pass off as an excuse can quell the fire you’ve set?”

Before you could attest your innocence, beg for forgiveness, Valeria’s belt came down across your thighs. Crying out, you flinched, tried to withdraw, pushing your chair back in the process.

Valeria lunged forward and gripped the chair by the arms, pressing your skin into the wood, and dragged you back.

Her face twisted into a visceral snarl, the portrait of evil.

“Please, Valeria, I’m begging you–”

“Oh, you’ll beg for me, alright.” Valeria looked down at you, her face to yours. Just shy of your noses touching. With bared teeth, she smiled.

“I won’t stop until you do.”

Price

“If you wanted attention that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

Price had your arms and legs bound to a hard, wooden chair while a thick ream of cloth had your mouth gagged. He stood over you, arms crossed over his front, a glint in his eye. He sighed, brought his hands to grip your tied forearms. Pressed them into the armrests.

You winced.

“What…possessed you to go and show your arse to Alejandro and the rest of the team?” His voice reflected a tone of ponderment found only in Sarcasm’s extended family tree. And it showed with the faux confusion written in his brow.

“Do I just not cut it for you?” He leaned in. The chair creaked. Your arms hurt. He didn’t let up.

“Am I not enough to keep you from throwing yourself at the nearest soldier?”

He watched you, his stare narrow. You shook your head, eyes wide. You tried speaking through the gag, tried to tell him that he was the only man you loved, but you both knew your efforts were futile.

He withdrew, gripped his belt, adopted his default stance. He heaved a deep breath.

“Come in, lads,” he called behind him, not taking his gaze off you. Your stomach tightened.

A thin smile stretched across Price's lips as he watched your eyes widen, your gaze following Simon, Soap, Gaz, Rudy and Alejandro as they filtered into the room.

Price bowed at the waist, lowered his voice so only you could hear.

“Seeing as you’re so keen to show ‘em what’s under your clothes, I’m gonna let them use you ‘til you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Horangi

Hong-Jin popped the top button of his jeans, keeping his gaze trained on you, spearing you with a dark stare.

“Did you enjoy giving König and I a little show, Dear?”

Sarcasm nestled in his tone, a viper in a den. But the excitement running parallel beneath it, just shy of its transparent underbelly, was evident.

Hong-Jin slid the zip of his jeans down. Pulled the denim over his hips.

“It’s only fair that I…” He took your hand, placed it at the hem of his underwear. Dipped beneath the band.

His skin was scorching. Something pulsated beneath your fingers.

The implication sat heavy in his tone. In his eyes.

“Return the favour.”

Alejandro

“I didn’t know I was dating such an attention-seeking whore.”

Alejandro’s voice was the roll of thunder across a darkened valley, the weight of a downpour of knives settled into his tone.

Hands behind his back, he stood over you, having resigned you to sitting on your knees, the hardwood floor pushing against your joints.

“Luckily for you, I’m not the type to hold grudges.” A smile played at his lips. One you knew not to trust.

“But he is.”

Alejandro looked to the door, where, from beyond its frame, emerged Rudy. His face held a similar, serpentine pallor, his lips drawn up into a thin smile. Venom in his veins.

“Wasn’t expecting to get blue-balled by (Y/N) earlier, Ale,” came Rudy, his usually sugared demeanour having dropped, the veil between what he was and what he showed to the world slipping away. Retreating.

Alejandro gave him a knowing look. He turned back to you.

“Why don’t you be a good little doll and put your face to the floor. Just like we practised.”

The memory of leashes, lashings and tears flooded your memory. You held back a  wanton whimper.

Alejandro’s voice dropped. “And let Rudy see the rest of what you promised him.”

Rodolfo

“I don’t want to have to do this, Cariño. Rudy stood over you, his hands on your shoulders and his face dark. Grim.

His hold on your shoulders tightened.

“But I can’t let your behaviour go…”

He searched your eyes for the right word. His brow furrowed when he found it.

“Unchecked.”

He sighed. Pushed down on your shoulders.

“Come on, Angel. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He told you, pushing harder until you bent to his will.

Now, on your knees, you could see how desperately he needed you.

One hand came to your jaw, thumb trailing to your lip, pulling your mouth open. The other slid down to his belt, sliding it from the buckle. It hissed, pulled tight against the metal. You swallowed.

Rudy’s breath shuttered, and you could tell from the way his hand clenched, the way he slipped the belt from his jeans like a snake, that he was enjoying this. Much more than he wanted to let on.

“Now remember, mi Amor, no teeth, no biting.” His head tilted. Condescending. “Or I’ll bite you back.”

Graves

He can barely contain himself.

It was only the briefest of flashes. It wasn’t even intentional. But something about your shy smile after the fact once you realised what you’d done sent a vicious little idea to Graves’s head.

He starts stealing all your underwear. Gradually, yet in large enough volumes that he doesn’t have to wait longer than he can handle without his reward.

One day, you come into his office, face warm and tugging an oversized shirt over the top of your thighs.

“Missing something, Darlin’?” Graves drawls. Your eyes narrow at him. You know he’s had something to do with your underwear’s disappearing act.

He puts his papers down, sighs, and rests the back of his head in his hands against the backrest of his chair.

“How about you flash me again. Slowly, now.” His eyes glint with a dark mischief and want.

“Y’don’t wanna know what happens if you don't do it the way I like it.”

Gaz

“Oh, Darling, look what you’ve done,” Gaz’s voice carried despite the thickening tension in the room. Neither of you needed to look down to see what he was referring to.

Despite the chastising tone in his voice, his eyes were warm. Kind, almost.

“If you wanted my attention so badly, you only had to ask.”

He stepped towards you, placing a hand under your jaw. He smiled.

“It’s only fair that I reward you for being so creative, isn’t it ?”

His other hand came to your shoulder, pushing the strap of your tank top until it fell, leaving the sweeping juncture between your neck and shoulder exposed.

Has bit back a shuttering breath.

Despite his gentile voice, an angeline choir, the soundtrack of mercy, there lay a hunger in his eyes, in his barely-restrained grip, that suggested a beast lurked beneath his pretty boy exterior.

And you knew from the way he told you to “Get on the bed – be good for me,” that you’d be seeing it tonight.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[hopeless--light]

Dp x Dc Why do I hear boss music?

Drabble or ficlet? Who knows I thought of this and would like to write a short dp x dc

The Joker was walking around gleefully he had escaped Arkham yet again but he hadn't done anything yet. Tim was on strict watching duty to see if he can catch Joker in a scheme before he did anything. Everyone else was either off-world, Jason and Dick, or in the middle of busting a trafficking ring, Bruce and Damian. So the Joker was still a high enough priority to keep an eye on but they didn't have the men to spare to take him back.

Tim knew he was being extra stealthy he did not want to become the next Robin victim he had enough clown trauma thank you very much. But he still swore the maniac had turned towards him with a creepy ass smile he always wears. But after an hour of just mindless wandering in the dark, the Joker had yet to do anything. That was until he turned down an alley toward a kid wearing headphones.

Now who wore soundproof headphones while wandering a back alley in the Gotham? Tim could only assume a tourist on top of the kid was prime adoption bait with black hair and pretty glowing blue eyes. Wait glowing? Tim couldn't tell properly from his vantage point on the roof across the street but it really did look like his eyes were glowing blue. And the Joker had noticed too, Shit the Joker was after a defenseless pretty meta. It's just a plus he had black hair and blue eyes, Joker knew Batman had an adoption type.

Time watched in slow motion as the Joker smiled at him and then reached for the teen. The Joker ripped the soundproof headphones off and Tim was hauling ass only stumbling when he heard boss music?

Danny was the final boss.

It started off as a joke between Sam, Tucker, and him, he was the ghost king after all so that means he was technically the final boss. If this were a game he would be the final showdown for heroes to protect the world. Pariah Dark was literally his final boss and he took that mantle up.

So what did the trio do they made a playlist of all their final boss music whether it was video games or movies and played it anytime Danny was visiting them, as he was now in Gotham working on his college degree. But what Danny never would admit is he genuinely enjoyed that playlist and listened to it when he was trying to amp himself up for what future project he needed to work on. Like now he was wandering the streets trying to get inspiration on his final project for class while listening to some boss music to stir up adrenaline.

Sometimes he forgot he was in the most crime-ridden town and that technically he was a meta so color him surprised when he was amping himself up this Freakshow wannabe ripped his headphones off. Not cool. But the worst part was the cord coming off his phone blasting the music. Now he can get away with listening to boss music but he will forever cringe at what started playing when those headphones were yanked away.

Meglovania

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

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[deadsetobsessions]

Gotham rained a lot more than Amity ever did.

Danny could not help but appreciate the differences. From the way the city itself curled around her inhabitants to the weather, Gotham was far darker than Amity ever managed to be.

Still, there were similarities. The screams, for one. In Amity, it was ghosts, their victims, and whichever ghostbuster of the day rocking up to rock each other’s shit. Another similarity? Danny’s inability to not get himself into troublesome shit, because he could never ignore a cry for help.

That scream was a cry for help if he’s ever heard one.

Danny cursed himself as he slipped through the alleyways, strides becoming smoother and agile than he normally walked like. He stuck to the shadows, the prickling of ghostly senses and honed vigilante instincts guiding him towards the scream. It was a man, getting stabbed by a guy in a red helmet.

Danny maintained that he was new here.

Which is why his foot connected solidly with Red Helmet's... red helmet.

"Motherfuc-" Red Helmet shouted as he was punted several feet away.

"Holy shit dude, are you good?"

Danny helped the guy up.

"Thank fuck! Back up! What took you so long?! Boss is gunna be so pissed if we're late!"

Hold up. Boss?

"Boss?"

“Black Mask, asshole! We gotta go before he decides to cut off our limbs!”

Danny yanked the guy to the side just as a bullet ricocheted off the rusted fire escape.

“Ope!”

“You’re not going anywhere.” A mechanical voice growled behind them.

“Oh fuck, Red Helmet guy.” Danny muttered.

“Shit, ya gotta run, tell boss I got caught.” The injured goon- because it was now apparent to Danny that the guy was working for someone dangerous- said. Danny appreciated the thought, but he only intervened because the guy was getting stabbed.

“Uh,” Danny hesitated. Clearly the guy had the wrong idea.

“Don’t make a move, unless you want your fucking heads blown off,” Red Helmet guy- wait, why does he feel liminal?- raised his guns. “Why don-”

Red Helmet guy was cut off by the thud of the now unconscious goon.

His helmet tilted down and then back up at Danny.

“Guess it’s just you and me,” Helmet guy sneered out. “Better tell me everything you know about Black Mask, or else you’ll get a taste of what he had.”

Danny held up his hands even though he knew he could just let the bullets phase through him. The smart thing would be to absolve himself and not get in the middle of two criminal’s beef as a civilian.

Danny’s full name, however, could have been Danny ‘Dumb Decisions’ Fenton. So, Danny practically interjected himself like an overexcited puppy at a doggy daycare.

“Okay, no need to get bloody. But uh, I have a question.”

Red Helmet cocked his head and mockingly gestured with his gun. “Sure, why not.”

Danny let as much of his midwestern accent into his voice as possible. “Who’s, uh, Black Mask?”

Red Helmet paused. Then he sighed. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“No…? I’m, uh, new in town.”

Red Helmet lowered his guns, and for some reason, Danny could tell that he was exasperated.

“Why would you even get in between a fight, dumbass? I have a gun! I coulda killed ya! He’s a criminal’”

Danny protested. Rude! “In my defense, you were stabbing him! You’re a criminal too, you know!”

“That makes it worse! You-!” Red Helmet paused. “Wait, do you even know who I am?”

Danny let his gaze wander down to the red bat-shaped logo on the guy’s chest. “Uh… Red Helmet… bat-guy?” He hazarded a guess.

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

Danny gaped. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” Red Helmet put his gun back and planted his fists on his hips. “You’re an idiot. Who gets in between a vigilante and the goon of a crime lord.”

Danny crossed his arms, leveling an unimpressed look at Red Helmet. “I’ve never heard of a vigilante killing someone, Red Helmet Bat-Guy.”

“It’s Red Hood.” Red Helmet sighed, walking closer. “And I wasn’t going to kill him.” Danny scoffed.

Danny relaxed, sensing the truth coming from Red Helmet guy’s liminal aspects.

“He’ll die looking at your ugly mug,” Danny sassed. “You’re gonna get him to a hospital, right? I’ll go with you.”

“Are you midwesterners all this trusting? What if I was the goon and this guy was the vigilante?”

Red Hood hiked the goon over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Danny followed after him.

“He’s the one that told me to go running back to his boss, Red Helmet.”

“It’s Red Hood.”

“That doesn’t look like a hood.”

Danny grinned as Red Helmet grumbled. How interesting! Maybe he won’t miss Amity as much as he thought he would!

“Ugh, fine, I guess someone’s gotta watch your dumb ass so you don’t get mugged.”

“I can take care of myself!”

Hood grunted. “I guess that kick wasn’t half bad.”

Danny beamed at him. “Thanks!”

——

Danny chucked a chimichanga at Red Hood.

“Wait a minute, you’re a crime lord! Being a goon was way less illegal than being a vigilante crime lord!”

Red Hood cackled at him.

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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[bywons]

𖧷 HEARTSHAKER — LHS

⌕ lee heeseung doesn't know what he wants from his rival, better marks or a kiss

pairing. student!lee heeseung x student!fem! reader wc. 1.4k tw/cw. jealousy, kissing genre. academic rivals to lovers, fluff, highschool au sru's note. requested for my nini love ♡ shitty title ik but i hope ya'll like cuz i dont T0T ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated! PLS REBLOG ♡

96 out of 100.

thanks to the almighty above that lee heeseung is tired, the basketball jersey stuck to his back, sweat covering his face and colouring the red fabric darker as he pants for his breath, or else the test paper in his hands would have been crumpled and ripped to shreds.

not because of his number obviously.

“99, i knew i rocked this paper!”, a dulcet, familiar voice floats up to heeseung's ear from behind him, followed by a mean eye roll from him and his stance still. heeseung doesn't bother to turn around, not when he recognizes the infuriating feminine voice and already visualises the usual dark brown braids hanging by the either sides of her face, school tie too tight and almost reaching the last button of the shirt.

“why the long face?”, jake's interruption breaks heeseung out of his trance, as he takes the much unwanted seat beside him, “96 not enough for ‘ya?”

“oh shut up”, heeseung returns jake’s scoff slamming down his physics answer sheet against the wooden table. both heeseung and jake know it's not enough, whether it's a 96 or a 99 ’cause,

“it's never enough unless i cross y/n’s marks”, heeseung sighs, the answer sheet dampening under the pressure of his sweaty hands, as his forehead became the victim of the other.

everyone in the class is aware of the cutthroat competition and abhorrence between the two brunettes, already expecting the usual bickering episode between the two whenever it was time for exam results, and even if by chance someone got the same results as any one of them, they'd do their best and not bother the two.

but today is different, today heeseung doesn't find his usual energy to bicker with the braided girl sitting at the back of the class, not when she managed to beat him thrice in a row at his own game!

“last time it was a marks’ difference and now three? how is this even possible?”, heeseung groans while flipping the sheets over and over as if something magical would happen and increase his numbers.

“i heard park sunghoon's been studying chemistry with her,” jake sighs, pushing his fingers through his dark hair as he turns his head to the side, but his eyes steal a glance at heeseung, and he smirks, “‘ya know, the chemistry toppe—”

“yeah yeah i got you jake, i know who he is”, heeseung presses the bridge of his nose a bit too hard, the familiar face of the boy floating up to his vision, though he can't remember where his loved moles are on him. oh how all the girls are head over heels for park sunghoon.

is y/n one of them too? he could swear they're hanging out too much.

stupid thought, stupid stupid thought. heeseung winces at his sudden curiosity, why is giving this matter so much thought? he doesn't like y/n anyway, he doesn't like her bickering, he doesn't like her annoying attitude, he doesn't like her hair, he doesn't like her scent and he definitely doesn't like her smile. so lee heeseung shouldn't really get his head messed up in this.

the school bell rings, bringing out new tedious groans and sighs from the students as they dawdle to their next classes.

“i think she's coming here—”

“don't you have a physics class to be at, jake?”

“yeah yeah shoo me away all you want to”, jake scoffs, a smirk playing at his lips when he slings a bag on his shoulder before leaving the class, “bet you can't shoo away her.”

and before heeseung even knew it the class was empty, except him and as empty, dispersed out in the crowded hallways to their next classes. that is unless the previous dulcet but annoying voice came closer to heeseung.

“heeseung!”, you chirp, approaching him from behind, “how was your paper?”

“ugh what do you—”, heeseung's anger dies down when he turns around to face you, your hair's not done into braids today, instead it's let open with your tie loose this time, a few drops of sweat sticking to your forehead, dance practice maybe? “—w-want?”

“your marks of course,” you giggle at his stutter, taking a seat beside him, “wanna make sure if i beat you or nah.”

“yeah you did, but not on your own huh?”, heeseung scoffs, looking down at you. he realises his heart skips a beat when you tilt your head to the side, holding eye contact.

not good.

“huh? what do you mean heeseung?”, you pout, acting ever so confused by his accusation, “not on my own?”

“oh come on, the whole class knows it now”, heeseung rolls his eyes, “park sunghoon, rings any bell?”

“oh hoon?”, you grin, covering your mouth and suppressing a small giggle, “he did help me a lot with chemistry, he's so sweet!”

heeseung doesn't realise his face is getting hotter and redder by the minute, both by your presence and the pronunciation of somebody else's name. he has a nickname already? hoon? no way, you have only ever interacted with him, whether it was bickering or asking for notes or silently sitting beside each other. so how did this other guy pop up?

“hoon,” heeseung mumbles his nickname, his eyes searching for something in yours and he doesn't even notice he's sounding jealous, “how are you guys so close already…”

“well he's been tutoring me chemistry for a month now—”

“a month?!”, heeseung's brows lift up and his jaw hangs open.

heeseung doesn't know if he likes your new look, the way the curls of your hair rests on your shoulders, the way your tie is loose from your neck and the way your head tilts to look at his, heeseung's heart skips a beat and it knows something is wrong.

“why? is something—” your lips fall apart, a soft blush takes place on your cheeks and you giggle again, in a teasing tone you nudge heeseung's arm, “aww are you jealous?”

“what? don't be ridiculous now.”

“heeseung is jealous, you are jealous, you are jealous j-e-a-l-o-u-s”, you continue this song, nudging heeseung and teasing him more and more, causing his cheeks to heat up, eyes turning back to the open window and then back to yours.

“shut up y/n, you're not funny”, he scowls, the soft breeze enters the empty classrooms and hits the both of you like a refreshing wave.

and in that moment, through your teasing manner, the empty classroom, the echoes of your laughter and the soft breeze caressing your hair, your long dark hair that matched his and the way his heart skipped a beat, the way his heart always skipped a beat while you were around, he realises it's something good.

“if you shut up now i swear y/n”, heeseung tried and kept his best ‘angry at you’ acting.

“oh really? then why don't you make me?”, a soft chuckle leaves your lips and you squint your eyes.

it happens all so fast, heeseungs soft lips on yours, falling right into place. it tickles you a bit like feathers and pulls you in, until you realise that's his hand snaking around your waist. the kiss was delicate, caring and brought so much warmth from a person you only argued with.

you gasp for air, first one to pull back.

you meet his eyes, scurrying through yours and cheeks all red, probably embarrassed of what he did. the kiss quickly coloured your cheeks, a shy smile playing around your lips and a small glint in your eyes.

“i-i don't know what i did—”

“its okay heeseung”, you shush a nervous heeseung, the proximity increasing the pace of your hearts, “do you like me?”

“i love you”, heeseung answers almost instantly, “i love everything about you.”

“me too”, heeseung is the most relieved as he hears this, that hoon guy got nothing on him now. he's the winner.

“so, are we gonna date then?”, he chuckles.

you nod, “let's surprise the class together!”

lee heeseung doesn't know what he wanted when he got his answer sheets. better marks than y/n, a bickering episode with her, or maybe her to fall in love with her? he doesn't know.

a smirk falls upon his lips and he pulls you closer by your waist. he looked ever so magical and beautiful up close, that you wish the bickering had died down earlier.

“whatever you say, pretty girl”, he leans in for a second kiss, indulging himself more into you, he swears his heart will beat out of the chest as soon as his free hand makes contact with your dark strands of hair.

outside the class stands a grinning jake with a bored sunghoon, and a quite high five is shared between the two, carefully peeking inside.

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

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[natlovesls2]

Hand Warmers

Lando x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: swearing, mentions of boobs and touching them, super short, no use of y/n, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), images used are not mine as are from pinterest, possible grammatical errors (its late and I have brain rot from little sleep)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 0.6k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: its cold and Landos hands need to be warmed

.ೃ࿐request: Can you do a lando x reader

where reader doesn’t want to let go of his hand but she need to open something with both (or whatever you can think of) and she put his hand on top of her boob and something like that ??

Please if you have the time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: Feel free to let me know if something is wrong or weird. Also feel free to request something

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Lando had been holding your hand hostage the whole day, refusing to let go despite the inconvenience. As the day progressed, his hold on your hand tightened. It was impossible to escape his hold, even as you ate your lunch, having to beg to be let go to use the bathroom. His only excuse was the freezing temperature, claiming that your hands were warmer than his and you had to help him warm up.

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The cold winter weather had taken over your apartment despite having closed the door immediately after waking in. It was more frigid than the average year, and the abundance of layers did nothing to keep you warm as you lay on the couch cuddled with your boyfriend. “I think we should turn the heater on.”

“I don’t want to get up; this is comfortable, plus your hands are warm,” Lando grumbled into the side of your neck, pulling you closer to himself to prevent you from leaving. 

“Don’t."

“What? I’m not doing anything. We can warm each other up. I don’t want to let you go,” his hold on your hands tightened, placing a few kisses on your neck, snuggling closer to you.

While Lando had always been clingy, more so during the cold winter days, this was a new extreme. His cold hands firmly gripped your own, a continued desperate attempt to keep you from leaving his side. "I promise to come back once the heater is turned on."

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise," you reassure him, feeling his grip loosen, and finally, you break free. You could feel his eyes on you, closely watching as you walked to the heater and turned it on. He was skeptical about the promise you had made. The way his eyes followed your every move proved that. 

"You're taking too long," he complained, voice whiny as he sat up in his spot, grabby hands reaching out in your direction. The slower you walked back to him, the more childlike he became. His pout only increased as he realized you were purposefully taking your time.

"You're being mean," he continued to whine, only stopping when you finally sat next to him again, hands immediately grabbing your own. He briefly let go of your hand to turn on the television, quickly grabbing and kissing them. 

"Don't you think you've held my hand enough?"

"No, I think I've held your hand for too little," he says, slightly pouting again, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your lips. This was always his tactic for getting what he wanted. The constant pouting and occasional kisses were well-known to you. It was almost expected from him, especially when things weren't going exactly the way he wanted them to. 

"Let go, Lando," you said, refusing to fall victim to his ploy– knowing that if you allowed him to get away with this, he would only use it against you. 

"Noooo," he said, voice high and whiny, squeezing your hand tighter, peppering your face with kisses, gently stroking your hands. 

"It's getting warmer in here," you struggle against him, letting out a sigh of relief as he finally lets go of your hands. This was a victory in your eyes, though you knew it would be a short-lived victory– Lando being a very persistent person. 

"I'm still cold," he says after a few minutes, resting his hand on your waist. 

“You’re annoying,” you say, moving his hands under your shirt and placing them on your breasts, shivering at the freezing touch, “You're fucking freezing.”

“Yeah, but I'm definitely getting warmer,” he gently squeezes your boobs, stealing their warmth for himself. 

"At my expense," you say, your body beginning to relax as Lando's hands warmed themselves between your breasts and bra. 

"You're the one who offered," he continues to softly but firmly massage and squeeze them, "I think these might be the best hand warmers."

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