#there's not actually a wrong way to write

[yuramour]

I THINK HE KNOWS — F1 GRID

synopsis. trying to keep your crush on a certain driver a secret isn't exactly easy. but do they know about it, or not? pairing. f1 grid x reader (ft. mv1, yt22, ln4, op81, gr63, cl16, lh44, dr3, aa23, cs55, ih6, jd7, eo31, ka12, ob87) genre. fluff, headcanons warnings. mild secondhand embarrassment, maybe some suggestive themes, mostly coworker!reader, some of these are noticeably longer than others. my bad word count. 3k-ish (200-ish each)

note. this slowly devolves into silliness. alsoooooo, im tryna have a more consistent upload schedule, but i did just get a job and im taking online classes over the summer, so like, its hard to find the time to actually sit down and write. i'm trying, tho!! hope you guys enjoy this one :p

MAX VERSTAPPEN

۶ৎ completely oblivious

of course, it was glaringly obvious to everyone but max. everyone else saw the way you immediately stopped whatever you were working on to stare at him whenever he wandered into the red bull garage. ever since you started working for red bull as an analyst, you had the biggest crush on max. at first, it was just a harmless thing, blushing whenever he was in your general vicinity, your coworkers giggling and elbowing you whenever he walked into the room. the teasing from your coworkers was really the most annoying part at first. but now? the most annoying part by far was how max was just apparently totally oblivious to the fact that you liked him. you weren't even keeping it a secret anymore like you were at the beginning. you'd all but asked him out at this point. but he had absolutely no idea. it wasn't until charles teased him about how you stared at him during the driver's parade that max realized. it took him aback at first, but trust he'd never felt more dumb than when he realized you were in fact hitting on him all that time. asks you out the next time he sees you.

YUKI TSUNODA

۶ৎ has a suspicion

he could be wrong- maybe. but for the past several months, yuki's had a feeling that all those times you've brushed against him in the hallway, stared just a little too long during team debriefs, and laughed a little too hard at his jokes meant you saw him as a little more than just a coworker. it's hard for him to keep to himself- you haven't actually said anything that would indicate that you like him, so he doesn't want to bring it up. which sucks for him, because he really likes you, too. the way your hand feels on him when you pat him on the back after a race, the way your voice sounds when wishing him luck, the way your eyes soften when they meet his- it gives him butterflies. but he doesn't want to tell you. maybe he's just scared of rejection- because what if he's wrong? what if you don't actually like him? you have to be the one to tell him first. his imposter syndrome refuses to let him make the first move. he's elated when you do- a grin breaking over his face, a soft "i knew it" slipping from his lips.

LANDO NORRIS

۶ৎ thinks you hate him

maybe it's just the way you show affection- but lando thinks you can be a little...mean. not just a little mean- really mean. lando genuinely thinks you hate his guts. the way you refuse to make eye contact with him, the way you practically flee the room whenever he enters- he's convinced you have something against him. lando's a sensitive soul, he can take things a little personally. and you're perfectly content letting lando think you hate him if it means he never finds out ab out your stupid little crush. on another note, lando's absolutely flabbergasted when oscar makes a passing comment about your little crush on him- leaving both of them confused; lando because he was convinced you hated him, and oscar because he thought your crush was so blatant. oscar was right, of course. you just have a rather elementary way of navigating your crushes on people. lando practically corners you about it the next day, your violent blush and stuttering at the sudden confrontation telling him all he needed to know. he asks you out properly and nicely after that.

OSCAR PIASTRI

۶ৎ he knows but you have no idea he knows

oscar clocked your crush immediately. he's an observant guy. but he's so incredibly normal about it. you have absolutely no idea that he knows. the thing is, he thinks he's being obvious about liking you back. he'll open doors for you, give you his coat when you're cold, open energy drink cans for you, and he thinks it's incredibly obvious. the problem? you just think he's the kind of guy that'd do all that stuff anyway. because he's just so relaxed with it. it goes on for MONTHS. you both thinking you're being plainly obvious about your feelings for each other, and oscar just simply not wanting to be the one to make the first move. lando eventually knocks some sense into him- telling him to just ask you out because you're obviously not going to be the one to initiate it. as soon as he does, you're taken aback- not having expected oscar to be into you, too. but of course he was. how could he not be?

CHARLES LECLERC

۶ৎ thinks its all platonic

charles thinks that you're just a good friend- his best friend. doing things that all best friends do. of course a best friend would drop everything because he asked you to go out and do something. of course a best friend would go out of their way to come to all his races. of course best friends hug each other for extended periods of time after a bad race. he thinks you're just his best friend. because none of his other friends really do things like that- you must just be that good of a friend! right? no. of course not. you are head over heels in love with charles and you always have been. and he's never noticed. to be fair, you didn't exactly want him to. you were scared of the rejection you'd face if he ever found out. he's the charles leclerc. why would he go for you? even if you were his best friend. funny enough, it's his mother that ends up spilling your secret. charles thinks she's just joking at first, but once he realizes she's not, he's absolutely mortified. not only because he never realized it, but because he's felt the same about you for years, thinking you only saw his as a friend. calls you over immediately and confesses everything.

LEWIS HAMILTON

۶ৎ he knows, but doesn't say a word

lewis, ever the gentleman, notices your crush immediately, but chooses to keep it a secret. because you obviously don't want him to know about it, otherwise, you wouldn't be keeping it a secret. he thinks its charming more than anything. completely endeared by the way you immediately blush and look away whenever he makes eye contact, scurrying away like a little mouse whenever he ever so politely asks you to do even the most miniscule task. he didn't have any feelings for you at first- but the more time he spends observing you, the way you interact with others, your kindness, your individuality, he falls for you slowly but surely. you know lewis is a good man, so when he asks you to go to dinner with him, you think it's just to show his thanks to you for being such a hard worker. when he tells you how he feels about you, you feel like you're about to melt out of sheer embarrassment. lewis watches the blush take over your face with a soft laugh, your reaction reminding lewis exactly why he liked you in the first place.

GEORGE RUSSELL

۶ৎ thinks it's just a joke

even if you are so completely blatantly obvious about having a crush on george, he just thinks you're kidding. any time you openly flirt with him, he just laughs along and takes it as a joke. it gets to a point where you're all but telling him to his face that you're in love with him, and he's just like "haha, good one!" straight up, for a man that's so in love with himself, you think he'd be able to take a hint. but no. he's blind to the truth. and he's like this for MONTHS. you are LAYING IT ON, and he just does not understand that you are being 100% for real. only gets it when you literally corner him and tell him blatantly to his face that you are genuinely actually into him. he's both flabbergasted and overjoyed bc this rich boy gets zero play.

KIMI ANTONELLI

۶ৎ he has NO idea

silly silly boy. despite the fact that you've followed him around the world since you were kids, been by his side the entire time, through his best and worst days. he just doesn't see it. and you'd never tell him, of course. you value your friendship too much to ruin it over a stupid little (not little at all) crush. but still. who tf basically puts their entire life on hold to follow their best friend around the world? either someone who's in love, or someone who's just that good of a friend. in your case, it's the former. but unfortunately, kimi thinks you're the latter. he doesn't even realize he's in love with you until he's talking about you to ollie one day, just absolutely gushing about you and ollie's just listening like "...😐 you're stupid." after kimi realizes how he feels, he tries to keep it to himself, but accidentally lets it slip out one day while talking to you. to his ABSOLUTE SHOCK (idk how it was a shock he's lowkey blind), you feel the same about him.

ALEX ALBON

۶ৎ he knows & is very obvious about it

he KNOWSSSS. AND YOU KNOW HE KNOWSSSSS. unfortunately, as an employee for Williams, you know that dating a driver is looked down upon at the VERY LEAST. so despite the fact that you keep it as professional as possible, any and every time you so much as make eye contact with alex, this mf giggles. like, actually giggles. like a middle schooler. you don't even really know how he knows. but you suspect that carlos told him after you let it slip to him one day that you thought alex was cute. but nevertheless, you never let your interactions go beyond relaying basic information and wishing him luck before a race. but one weekend, you and alex end up with you hotel rooms booked right next to each other, somehow leading to alex basically living in your room all weekend. after that, it's all longing stares across the garage and holding hands in secret.

CARLOS SAINZ

۶ৎ totally blind to it

i think he just likes to think that you're a very kind and respectful person. like, he says jump and you ask how high, type shit. despite the fact that you try to keep it a secret at first, you realize that he is truly never going to get it unless you start like, actually putting the moves on this man. he thinks you're just a really nice person until one day it just slaps him in the face that you're literally obsessed with him, and he just feels SO stupid bc of it. like, you are all but offering to literally become his personal maid and he hasn't realized until now??? not very smooth operator of him. when he suddenly starts flirting back to you, you realize the vibe switchup IMMEDIATELY and you know he's clocked you</3 he asks you out on a casual coffee date at a cute quiet little cafe and it's very sweet and fluffy and eughhhh i hate (love) him so much.

ISACK HADJAR

۶ৎ again, thinks you hate him

poor baby thinks you getting red in the face and cutting the conversation off early whenever he tries to talk to you is indicative of you hating him and not of you getting flustered by his mere presence. he's pacing back and forth wondering what he could have possibly done to make you hate him, meanwhile you're in the other room pacing back and forth wondering how the hell you're ever going to be able to tell him you're basically in love with him. isack eventually decides to just be as nice as possible; getting you coffee, doing his best to make your job easier for you, complimenting you whenever he notices you've done your hair differently or whatever. unfortunately, this may or may not make things worse bc you have no idea how to take a compliment and just mumble a "thanks" and immediately leave the room whenever he does so. eventually, one of your coworkers talks some sense into you and convinces you to tell isack how you feel. shocked and elated don't even come close to describing how isack feels when you finally confess to him. relationship immediately starts from there, and he's basically obsessed with you and giving you allllll the words of affirmation.

JACK DOOHAN

۶ৎ thinks its just "bestie vibes"

again. stupid boy. stupid dumb boy. let me set the scene; you and jack have in fact been best friends for as long as you can remember. you weren't even into him at first, but after not seeing him for a while, and all of a sudden, he comes back as an accomplished formula driver, not to mention he's like, half a foot taller and significantly more ripped than he was the last time you saw him, something definitely changed in the way you looked at him. but of course sweet oblivious jack is just happy to hang out with his best friend again after so long. the two of you take a trip to the beach not too long after he gets back, and you have to physically stop yourself from staring at his abs for too long. ofc he just thinks you're looking at him so longingly bc you missed your best friend (him) so bad. that same night, the two of you get a little drunk and you accidentally call him hot to his face. oops! he thought about it for a solid ten seconds before he realized that he, in the back of his mind, thought the same about you. i just love this himbo so bad okay :(

OLLIE BEARMAN

۶ৎ he WANTS you to, but has no idea

to ollie, you were just so fucking cool. always so poised, level-headed, always cool under pressure. and he was absolutely head-over-heels for you. he practically followed you around like a lost puppy everywhere you went. not just because he's always getting lost at social events, but because he wanted to be near you as much as he physically could. to ollie, you were totally and completely out of his league. he wanted so badly for you to notice him as more than the guy that you were getting paid to basically babysit and make sure he doesn't say anything stupid to the media. little did he know, you'd been charmed by his cute smile, sweet demeanor, and puppy-like tendencies since the day you met him. he thinks he's seeing things when he starts noticing the blush that creeps up on your cheeks whenever he says something sweet. "wishful thinking" he tells himself. he swears he's dreaming when you knock on his hotel room one night and say that you have a secret to tell him. and he practically dies from happiness when he wakes up the next morning with a text from you confirming that you meant it when you told him you liked him.

ESTEBAN OCON

۶ৎ he's SUSPICIOUS of you

what do you want from him?? why are you so nice to him? what are you planning?? are you, the sweet alpine employee that says hi to him every morning in the paddock with that cute little smile spying on haas for your team??? he notices the way you come to the haas mobile home to "visit your friend" that works for the team. every time you wish him luck on the race in passing, he narrows his eyes and nods curtly, suspicious of the way you always happen to bump into him. little does he know, he keeps seeing you around because you have the biggest crush on him. you're close with a couple of the guys on the haas pit crew, and they've been trying for months to get esteban to notice you. which he has. just not in the way that you hoped. it all comes to a head when esteban relays his suspicion to your friends on the haas team, all of whom are absolutely flabbergasted that that's the conclusion he came to. they couldn't possibly let him go on thinking that. esteban is completely floored when they tell him you're always hanging around not because you're spying for alpine, but because you have a crush on him. immediately pulls you aside the next time he sees you and apologizes for being so unwelcoming towards you. he takes you out for an apologetic dinner, and realizes you're actually really great :p

DANIEL RICCIARDO

۶ৎ he knows and you know he knows

not only does he very obviously know, he teases you about it. you're too stubborn to give him the satisfaction of telling him flat-out how you feel. that's exactly what he wants. so you let him tease you, taking the shit-eating grins, flirtatious jokes, and the way he gets just a little too close for comfort in stride. you absolutely refuse to give him any kind of confirmation when he leans in, going "come on, i know you like me a little bit." it gets to a point where he's gotten on your nerves so much, you're not even sure if you even like him anymore or if you're just so stubborn, you can't even admit it to yourself anymore. it goes on for literal years. you think it's finally over when daniel leaves red bull. finally, you can let go of your stupid crush and live the rest of your life in peace knowing you won't have to deal with the australian ever again. but no. of course not. despite the fact that he was now in renault, he would come sidling up to the red bull mobile home just to flash you that shit-eating grin with a painfully flirty "how you doing?" all that time while he was in red bull, the possibility that he liked you back hadn't even crossed your mind. you thought he was just kind of a dick, teasing you for being into him. turns out, he was just waiting for the moment you weren't working for the same team so he could ask you out properly. "surprised" doesn't even begin to cover how you were feeling after he told you after the 2019 season was over.

taglist: @bear-yawns @revelauver

[em1i2a3]

My Favourite Game

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader!

Summary: You haven’t had much luck when it comes to dating and sex which has inadvertently placed you in a position of being wholly inexperienced with the whole scene in general. But when your long time friend Rhett Abbott offers you a way to experiment safely to figure out what to do, you immediately jump at the opportunity–desperate to learn and get more experience.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers? Hell yeah! Reader is inexperienced and actually has a safe space to actually experiment. The dynamics between Rhett and Reader are extremely comfortable (they talk about a lot of personal things), They’ve been friends for a while (high school acquaintances turned adult friends), Mentions of Violence (kind of vague as well), Rhett is Mentioned to be Protective

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all…), Oral Sex (fem! And male! Receiving), Fingering, Biting (leaving marks), Dirty Talk, Hickeys and Love Bites, Cum Play, Swallowing, Hair Pulling, Choking, Overstimulation, Semi–Public Sex (Truck Sex y’all wahoooo lol), Handjobs, Riding, Making Out, Thigh Riding, Praising/WorshippingTeasing (physically), Begging, Reader is described as being inexperienced they have had sex though, just really bad sex, Very Soft Dom and Sub dynamics that switches, Finger Sucking, Gagging (very brief moment, nothing extreme), Good Girl is used.

Author’s Note: Jesus Christ, that’s a lot of smut warnings lol. I loved writing this, I buy into the friends to lovers trope so much, but I also enjoy the ‘I’m teaching you new things about yourself and we’re slowly falling for each other’ trope lol. Did I go off on this and have to change my keyboard midway through because the A, D, F and G keys break? Yep. But holy hell did I enjoy writing this new segment of RAF and I’m so excited to keep writing for this man!

Word Count: 13,962

It was painfully evident that you didn’t have much luck with men. You used to think maybe the first one was just a fluke–that one high school boyfriend who didn’t know the first thing about tenderness and treated you like a friend more than a lover. But as the years went on and the faces changed–first dates, flings, those awkward two-month situationships that ended with unread messages or cold shoulders–it became harder and harder to ignore a simple, infuriating truth:

You attracted a certain type of guy, and unfortunately, that type of guy brought on heaps of trouble to you.

Rhett had told you as much–in different ways, tones, and situations.

”I can tell just by lookin’ at ‘em,” He’d mutter over his beer, eyes narrowed at whoever was looking at you, or whoever had come to pick you up from his ranch when you would hang out, “Ain’t no way that one’s gonna treat you right.” But you never listened to him. You had told him–and yourself–multiple times that he was just being overprotective, and looking too deeply into things.

But the truth was, he was right, you weren’t being treated right. Not even close.

In bed, it was glaringly worse. You didn’t come first–literally or metaphorically. The guys you saw acted like just showing up was enough, like their presence alone should’ve sent you spiraling into pure ecstasy–like you were supposed to be grateful that they were blessing you with the experience of having them between your legs.

You definitely weren’t. Not even once.

You could actually count on one hand how many times you’d almost felt an orgasm building. And the only time someone even offered to go down on you–and even then, he was half-assing the job, and made it feel like a formality rather than something he actually wanted to do. You barely felt his mouth. But you pretended it was good, just so it wouldn’t be another disappointment.

For a long time, you thought maybe something was wrong with you, that maybe your body was broken or maybe you were just one of those people who didn’t get much pleasure from these types of things and needed simpler acts to truly experience something even close to sexual pleasure. So. You stopped trying, stopped dating, and stopped chasing what felt more like punishment than passion.

And within the quiet that followed your dating celibacy, you had found yourself spending more time with Rhett.

Neither of you were truly close with each other before that.

Sure, you’d gone to the same high school, crossed paths in hallways, shared the occasional class where you’d borrow a pencil or flash him a smirk when he got caught nodding off mid-lecture. But he ran with the rodeo kids, and you–well, you drifted between circles, kept mostly to yourself, caught up in extracurriculars and jobs and the kind of boys Rhett always ended up warning you about years later.

It wasn’t until a spur-of-the-moment decision–one boring Friday and a reckless text to your old classmate–that you ended up at one of his circuits. You hadn’t seen him ride since high school, and you figured, why not?

You didn’t expect much.

But then you saw him in the dirt and the dust, bronzed under the stadium lights, laughing with his hat tipped back and his knuckles split open. And something shifted.

You stayed longer than you meant to that night. Helped him limp back to his truck. Got late-night fries together. Talked about everything and nothing, just like people who didn’t know yet that they were about to become each other’s person.

After that, it became a routine. A quiet, natural rhythm. The two of you set aside one day a week for bar hopping–usually Tuesdays, when the crowds were thin and the drinks were cheap. But when you gave up on dating for a while, something in that rhythm expanded.

You weren’t just hanging out once a week anymore. You were showing up at circuits again, slapping the rusted fence rails as he rode past, grinning like you were seventeen again and seeing him for the first time. You started meeting his friends. Familiarized yourself with his family again–Amy’s quiet greetings, Perry’s tired but kind nods, Cecilia’s slightly surprised but not unwelcome smiles when you appeared in their kitchen one Sunday morning, still rubbing sleep from your eyes in Rhett’s oversized hoodie, and Royal’s glares that he shot at Rhett.

You became a fixture in his life. A known presence.

Especially after long nights of drinking, where you’d inevitably end up back at his place, curled up on his bed groaning because a headache was already brewing.

And with that bond that grew came something that bloomed slowly but powerfully: his protectiveness.

It had always been there–coiled beneath the surface, stitched into the way he watched you, waited for you, walked you to your door even when he was half-asleep himself. But when he started to piece together the kind of experiences you’d had–the disappointments, the lack of care, the way men made you feel like an afterthought–it shifted.

It changed the way he looked at you. Like you were fragile, but not weak. Like he wanted to wrap his hands around every bad memory and crush it.

He never said much when you opened up about it. Didn’t need to. The silence was heavy enough.

”You don’t deserve that,” He said once, soft as gravel, not looking at you. It had hit you harder than you expected. Not because of the words–but because of how he said them.

When you broke it to him that you were taking a break from dating, he didn’t even hesitate before saying “Me too.” You hadn’t expected that. You had laughed, asked him why– saying you’re Rhett Abbott, don’t you have girls throwing themselves at you every other week?–but he just shrugged, scratched the back of his neck, and muttered something about solidarity.

What you didn’t know though was that Rhett Abbott was relieved by this news.

It meant peace. No more stepping in between you and men who didn’t deserve to speak your name. No more black eyes or busted knuckles or security dragging him out of bars with the same tired “Abbott, we warned you.” No more cold rage coiled in his chest when you came to him with a new dating story.

But more than all of that–it meant he had more of your time again, and that you were his once more.

Not in the traditional sense. But in the quiet, easy way where he got to have you beside him. In his truck. At his kitchen table. Laughing on his porch. Falling asleep in his living room. Talking to him about things you didn’t tell anyone else.

He got to watch you laugh with his family. Got to listen to you hum in the passenger seat. Got to see you when you weren’t trying anymore–when you were just being you.

And lately, Rhett had been thinking about things. Dangerous things.

About what it would feel like to be the one to show you what good could be. About how his hands would never treat you like an obligation. About how he’d never rush you, never expect anything, never make you fake a damn thing.

He’d been thinking about you in ways he shouldn’t. Imagining things he wasn’t proud of. But he never said it. Never crossed that line.

Not until you did.

——————————

The bar was louder than usual, the kind of noise that sank into your bones, all thudding boots and clinking glasses and low country twang pouring from speakers that surrounded the walls of the drinking areas. You and Rhett were squished together in a booth that barely had enough space for one of his thighs, let alone two. He was pressed against your side, the warmth of his arm brushing yours every time either of you reached for the second pitcher of beer you’d ordered.

You’d been sipping slowly at first–well, pretending to–but somewhere between your third and fourth shared laugh, the drinks started going down faster. Something about being shoulder-to-shoulder with Rhett always loosened you up. Maybe it was the way he leaned in when he talked. Or the way his voice dropped just slightly in the middle of a crowd, like everything else was just noise unless you were listening.

By the time the second pitcher was empty, your head was spinning, your cheeks hot, and Rhett was nudging you with his knee.

“Guessin’ it’s time we call Perry?”He suggested, raising an eyebrow and pushing his light brown hair out of his face. You groaned.

”Can’t we just sleep in your truck?” And he let out a small laugh, shaking his head slowly.

”You’re too pretty to get eaten by coyotes, sweetheart. C’mon, I’m sure my place is more comfy than the leather seats of the truck.” He teased, as he pulled out his phone.

You both slurred your way through the call–Rhett taking the lead while you giggled beside him, repeating his name like a chant until Perry muttered, “Jesus Christ, I’m on my way.”

The drive back to the ranch was a blur. You’d nodded off on Rhett’s shoulder. He smelled like leather and dust and whatever cologne he always swiped across his throat before circuits. He didn’t say much on the way home, but his hand never left your thigh–more because in his drunken stupor, all he wanted to do was feel your skin against his, even if it was seen as an accident.

When Perry’s truck pulled up to the house, it was as if your bodies had already memorized the path inside.

You and Rhett stumbled up the steps, bumping into one another in the narrow hallway, muffling your laughter behind lazy hands and hushed voices. His hand settled low on your back, fingertips resting just under the hem of your top, warm and heavy with quiet intention–though he played it off like it was nothing. Like he always did.

His legs bumped into the frame of the hallway table and he cursed softly, grabbing onto your arm to steady himself.

“Shh,” You whispered, glancing behind you, “You’re gonna wake your parents.” He waved his hand.

”It’s okay,” He murmured, his breath brushing your hair slightly, “I’m sure they’re used to it by now.” You reached his room like it was second nature–your bodies moving together in a practiced rhythm, like you’d done this dance before. And you had, in bits and pieces. Just not like this. Not with this kind of tension buzzing just beneath your skin.

You practically fell through the doorway first, catching yourself on the edge of his bed with a half-giggled groan. Rhett followed close behind, his shoulder knocking lightly into the doorframe before he caught himself and dragged it shut behind him with a soft click.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the pale moonlight bleeding in through the slatted blinds. Familiar shadows painted across the floorboards and the messy sprawl of his clothes on the chair. The scent of him clung to the room–warm skin, worn flannel, the faint tang of sawdust and leather.

You kicked off your boots, one thudding softly against the wall, the other tumbling onto its side. He mirrored your movements, stepping out of his own boots with less precision, letting out a groan of relief as he did so. You tossed your clutch onto the side table–just beside the lamp he never used–and sank onto the edge of his bed with a quiet sigh.

“Here,” Rhett said, reaching for the top drawer of his dresser, “Take these.” He tossed a soft, well-worn T-shirt your way–gray with faded black lettering you didn’t bother reading–and a pair of boxer shorts that still held the shape of his body in their fabric. You caught them against your chest, fingers curling over the cotton, the residual warmth of his drawer somehow sinking into your skin.

”I’m gonna go grab some water,” He added, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice low, but clearer now–more focused, or sobered up, “You get changed.”

Then he disappeared down the hall, the sound of his footsteps padding softly away as the door swung gently shut behind him.

You sat in the quiet for a moment, the distant hum of the house settling around you. Your pulse felt louder than it should’ve. Your fingers trembled slightly as you peeled off your tank top, the material catching on your shoulder before slipping free. You dropped it beside your clutch, then shimmied out of your jean shorts–tight and damp from the heat of the night, catching slightly on your thighs before falling to the floor.

The air kissed your bare skin, cool in contrast to the heat that had begun to build in your chest.

You tugged Rhett’s shirt over your head. It was too big, the hem falling just below your hips, the neckline gaping enough that the slope of your collarbone peeked out. You ran your fingers down the faded cotton, breathing in the faint scent of him lingering in the fabric–clean, woodsy, unmistakably him.

The boxers came next, soft and worn from a thousand washes. You slid them up your legs, the waistband resting low on your hips, baggy and comfortable in a way that made you feel small and safe all at once. You folded your other clothes neatly into a pile beside the bed, then sat back on the mattress just as the door creaked open again.

Rhett stepped in with two glasses of water, his knuckles curled tightly around the rims to keep them steady.

He paused when he saw you.

There was nothing particularly sexy about it, nothing overt or posed. Just you sitting on the edge of his bed in his boxers and his old shirt, legs bare, hair a little messy, your lips parted slightly as you took in a few deep breaths from the buzzing that tingled over your skin, and the shift in energy that floated through the room.

But something in his expression changed. His jaw flexed, and his eyes softened–the tension in his brow melting away the more he looked at you.

”Got you some water,” His voice was quieter now, more rough. You reached for one of the glasses, your fingers brushing his as you took it, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

”Thanks.” You took a sip of the water, the coolness of it sliding down your throat and settling somewhere just above your ribs. You sighed through the swallow, then leaned back slightly on one hand, blinking slowly at the ceiling as your head gave the first warning pulses of what would no doubt be a brutal morning.

“Jesus,” You muttered, placing the glass on the floor beside the bed, “I can tell I’m gonna have such a bad hangover in the morning…My head is already pounding.” Rhett hummed in agreement, moving toward his dresser again.

”Wouldn’t doubt it,” He mumbled, “I feel it too.” You watched him open the top drawer, his back partially turned to you. He didn’t say anything else–just reached in for another t-shirt. Then, without warning or hesitation, he grabbed the collar of the one he was wearing and tugged it off in one smooth motion.

And just like that, your breath caught.

You’d seen Rhett shirtless before. Once, maybe twice–at the lake, when his whole family had piled into trucks and driven down with coolers and towels and floating chairs. But those times had been quick, and you’d always looked away out of caution. Too many watchful eyes, too much risk of your gaze being caught. Too much danger in what you might feel if you stared too long.

But now?

Now there was no one watching.

No one except him.

And he wasn’t looking at you.

He stood a few feet from the bed, half in shadow, and your eyes swept over the length of his bare back, over the slow rise and fall of his shoulders, the slight arch of his spine as he leaned forward into the drawer. You barely breathed.

His skin was pale where the sun hadn’t kissed it, but scattered across his chest and along his ribs were bruises–real ones. Deep and blooming like brushstrokes of ink and wine. Purple that melted into faded yellow. Green along the edges. Some were new, still fresh and angry. Others had already begun to fade, ghosting into the gentle gold of healing. They streaked across his ribs in uneven patterns, coiling beneath the planes of lean muscle, dipping into the shadows of his collarbones and clinging to his hips like the remnants of a war.

It was violent. And somehow, beautiful.

Because it was him.

It was the proof of everything he did, everything he gave. The risk. The pain. The stubborn pride that kept him getting back on the bull even after it had thrown him into the dirt. You’d heard the groans he swallowed, watched him limp back to the chute with blood on his jeans and dirt on his teeth, but you hadn’t seen this. Not up close.

Not in the quiet.

Your eyes traced the line of one particularly stark bruise that stretched from the edge of his left pectoral down to his ribs. The skin there was darker, tight. Raw. And still, your gaze followed it like your fingers wanted to.

And God the urge to touch him was burning through you.

You wanted to trace every edge, every mark, every scrape and wound. You wanted to know if his skin was as warm as it looked. If his chest would rise faster beneath your palm. If he’d shiver when you pressed your lips to that bruise just below his ribs.

Your thighs pressed together slightly, feeling your stomach tighten as you began to flush under the confines of your own thoughts.

Rhett tugged the fresh shirt over his head and ran a hand through his light brown hair, slicking it back out of his face before finally turning back to you. His eyes flicked up–just for a second–and he caught your transfixed gaze.

“You okay?” He asked softly, voice thick. You cleared your throat, heat climbing up your neck as you dropped your gaze for a moment, pretending you hadn’t just been caught practically devouring him with your eyes.

“Yeah…Totally fine,” You muttered, fingers fumbling for the glass on the floor, bringing it back up to your lips. You took a long sip–longer than necessary–as if the coolness of it might extinguish the warmth that was flooding your chest. Or the way your thighs were still shifting together beneath his boxer shorts like they had a mind of their own.

Rhett didn’t move, and didn’t say anything for a second, his blue irises scanning over you for a moment, seeing the little movement that your thighs were making, a little tell that he had seen before from other women. He licked his lips slowly, like he could still taste your gaze on him. His voice dropped just a little as he said it–casual on the surface, but thick beneath. Heavy with the kind of tension that had been building between the two of you for months.

“You were starin’.” Your breath caught in your throat, and you looked down instinctively, the corner of your lip twitching with something between embarrassment and defense. Still, you shrugged like you could play it off.

“Well…It’s kind of hard not to when you’re all bruised up from the bull,” You murmured, trying to keep your tone light. “Didn’t know they were that bad.” He hummed at that–low and dry, like he didn’t quite believe your answer.

“You’ve seen ’em before,” He said, voice gravel-thick, head tipping slightly. “Shouldn’t be a surprise to you at this point.” You lifted your glass again to stall, sipped slower this time, letting the water cool the heat that was quickly rushing to your cheeks. Then you glanced at him again and gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“I think you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is, Rhett. I think the beer is getting to you.” That made something shift behind his eyes. He tilted his head a fraction, just enough to cast a slanted shadow along his cheekbone.

“Really now?” He murmured as he stepped closer, the floor creaking faintly beneath his weight. “You’re gonna tell me that I’m not seein’ straight?” He asked, pointing at himself. You nodded, your laugh shaky but still defiant.

”That’s exactly what I’m saying, Rhett.” He didn’t reply right away. He just stared down at you, long and quiet. Then, wordlessly, he stepped the rest of the way to the bed and placed his fist down–slowly, deliberately–on the mattress beside your thigh.

He didn’t touch you.

But the air between you shifted.

His knuckles were close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes followed the shape of his forearm, the way the muscles tensed beneath the skin, until they traced up to meet his face again.

You tilted your head up to look at him, and he was already there–already watching you.

His gaze locked with yours, blue eyes shadowed and steady, but flickering with something sharp, something knowing. Your stare skimmed over the details of his face–so close now, you could count the flecks of gold in his irises. The stubble along his jaw. The faint creases near the corners of his eyes that deepened when he laughed. The way his bottom lip jutted out just a little more than the top one, wet from where he’d just licked it.

“You’re a little liar,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a slow, crooked smirk. “I can see it in your eyes.”

The words hit low in your stomach.

You wanted to deny it–wanted to scoff, roll your eyes, tell him he was being ridiculous–but all you could do was hold his gaze and feel the heat crawling higher in your cheeks.

Still, you stayed composed. Barely.

“I think you need to sleep off your drunken stupor, Rhett,” You commented, chin tilting upward in subtle challenge. “You’ve got beer goggles on, and you really are seeing things now.”

He didn’t back off.

Instead, he leaned in closer. Slowly. Deliberately.

His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm and smelling faintly of beer and mint as it fanned over your lips. Your lashes fluttered, but you didn’t look away. You didn’t move. Not even when your breath caught slightly in your throat.

You just kept your eyes on him.

“…Guess I really do need some sleep,” He murmured after a beat, his voice quieter now. Rougher. But when he pulled back, he was grinning.

Cocky.

Like he knew you weren’t as unaffected as you were pretending to be.

Then he straightened, turned slightly toward the dresser again, and asked casually, “You stayin’ in the bed with me? Or you movin’ to the spare room?”

Your lashes fluttered quickly, and you swallowed hard before clearing your throat.

“I’ll stay here,” You said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though your entire body was still tense from how close he’d just been. “Probably won’t make it to the spare if I get up.” He nodded once, like that was the answer he expected, then reached for his belt buckle

“Alright,” He replied. You quickly looked away as his fingers moved to undo his belt, the subtle clink of the buckle sending another unwanted jolt of heat through your chest. Before your mind could wander any further–before you could accidentally lock eyes with the line of his hips or the way his thumb hooked into the waistband of his jeans–you padded toward the head of the bed.

You placed your water glass beside your clutch on the nightstand with a soft clink, keeping your movements slow, and controlled. Like that would help rein in the sudden buzz running beneath your skin.

The sheets were cool as you slipped under them, the scent of his laundry soap mingling with the lingering smell of him on the pillow. You shimmied slightly to get comfortable, dragging the duvet up to your waist and tucking one arm beneath your head, the other laid loosely across your stomach. You stared up at the ceiling.

Behind you, the sounds of him undressing were harder to ignore than you’d hoped.

A soft rustle of denim. The unmistakable swish of fabric sliding down over skin. A low breath–just a little ragged, like maybe even he was feeling the same pressure you were. You swallowed.

Then the mattress shifted.

He moved carefully, like he didn’t want to jostle you, but you felt him all the same. The bed dipped slightly with his weight, and the warmth of his body immediately spread beneath the covers, replacing the cold air you’d just tucked yourself into.

He settled on his side–close, but not touching. Or at least, not exactly. His arm stayed to himself, his shoulders turned slightly away, but your legs…Your legs brushed.

Bare skin to bare skin. Just barely.

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. Not anymore. It was full of tension, sure–but there was something else in it too. Something gentle. Something known.

“G’night,” He murmured, voice low and sleepy, already starting to sink into the mattress.

You turned your head a little, just enough to look at the back of his shoulder, then whispered, “Night.”

Your eyes lingered there for a moment. On the curve of his neck, and the slow rise and fall of his breath.

And maybe you were imagining it–but his leg seemed to press a little firmer into yours.

A quiet, tentative contact.

And neither of you pulled away.

——————————

You woke up to your alarm going off like a goddamn air raid siren, the high-pitched chime echoing through the quiet room like it had been waiting to give you a heart attack.

Your eyes shot open.

A groan ripped from your throat as you reached blindly for your clutch, limbs still tangled in the sheets and your brain pulsing with a headache that had already staked its claim behind your eyes. The light from the phone screen stung, but you silenced the alarm with a few taps, your movements sluggish and mechanical.

From behind you, Rhett let out a muffled groan of his own.

“Who the hell sets an alarm on a Saturday?” He mumbled, voice gravelled and sleep-heavy.

You ignored the ache in your skull long enough to fish out the familiar blister pack from the depths of your clutch, thumb already popping the next pill loose. You brought it to your lips and dropped it onto your tongue, reaching lazily for the lukewarm water glass on the nightstand.

“It wasn’t to wake us up,” You muttered, taking a small sip and swallowing. “It’s my birth control reminder.” The bed shifted behind you. A soft rustle. A new weight.

“Birth control?” Rhett’s voice had sobered slightly, still low, but laced with something else now. Confusion, maybe.

You placed the glass back on the table and rolled onto your side, glancing over your shoulder–and promptly noted two things: one, he’d taken his shirt off during the night, and two, he was looking right at you.

His eyes were a little narrowed. Brow furrowed. His hair was a mess, and his voice hoarse.

“Yeah…Birth control,” You replied slowly, letting the words hang in the air as you watched his expression closely. “You know…The thing that women take to help their periods and prevent pregnancy?” He rolled his eyes, though the motion lacked bite.

You raised a brow. “So what’s with the third-degree, Abbott?”

He shrugged lazily and turned onto his back, his arm behind his head, jaw tight. “Didn’t think you were on it, that’s all. Never seen you take it before.”

You smirked. “Well, I’m usually out of your house by this time. Or I’m in the bathroom and take it there.”

And that was all it took.

That one sentence cracked something open in his chest and sent his thoughts freefalling.

You were on birth control.

The implications settled into him like wildfire. No condom. No consequences. Just skin to skin, you wrapped around him, begging, whispering–he could come inside you and not think twice, could bury himself so deep you’d feel it for hours. He could grab your hips and pull you down hard against him, his hands splayed over your stomach as he fucked you slow and steady until you were begging him to finish. No pulling out. No holding back. No guilt.

He wanted to kiss your thighs open, drag his tongue along your folds, taste every part of you while you whimpered into his pillow. He wanted to hear your breath hitch when he whispered let me do it right this time, to watch your expression when he sank in–slow and thick and deep–and told you how tight you were, how good you felt, how he’d dreamt of this.

He wanted to mark you up. Leave bruises on your neck, your hips, your thighs. Paint you with proof that someone finally gave a damn.

He’d be quiet about it, though. You’d both have to be quiet.

His parents were probably still in their room. Hell, Perry might be awake. So you’d press your mouth to his shoulder, muffle your moans against his skin, and Rhett would whisper filth in your ear with every lazy roll of his hips, voice ragged and barely restrained, telling you not to stop squeezing him like that. Not unless you wanted him to come right then and there.

His cock twitched against his thigh–sudden and sharp under the weight of his boxers.

Shit.

He shifted slightly under the blanket, adjusting himself, trying not to groan at how sensitive he suddenly felt. But the mattress wasn’t forgiving, and the movement wasn’t subtle.

“You alright?” Your voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. Curious. Careful. “You’re all red.”

He cleared his throat. A little too quickly.

“Mhm. I’m okay.”

You turned toward him more fully, propping yourself up slightly on one elbow, your hair flattened on one side from where you had slept on it. Your eyes narrowed, playful. Familiar.

And then–your voice softened to a whisper, full of teasing promise. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were staring at me.”

He blinked.

You were close. Too close. Your face inches from his, lips parted slightly, breath warm against his cheek. It mirrored what he’d done to you last night, except now the tables were turned–and he didn’t know what the hell to do with himself.

“I’m not,” He said quickly, voice cracking.

But you didn’t back off.

You just tilted your head slightly, and then–without meaning to–your thigh brushed his, and you felt something.

You stilled.

Your breath caught.

And your eyes went wide.

“…Oh,” You breathed, heat crawling up your neck.

“Sorry,” You whispered a second later, but your voice was breathy and full of implication.

Rhett swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at the ceiling. “It’s alright,” He said, quietly. Voice a little higher now. Tight.

The tension between you thickened like syrup, slow and sticky and impossible to ignore.

Neither of you looked at each other at first. It was safer that way. Eyes stayed on the ceiling, the far wall, anywhere but the quiet place in the middle of the bed where everything had shifted. Where your thighs had brushed, where your breath had caught, where Rhett was still hard and trying to will himself down with a silent prayer and clenched jaw.

But then you shifted again.

Not a lot. Just enough that the blankets rustled and your voice came out–low, almost shy.

“Do…Do you want some help with that?”

His eyes snapped to you like a whip. His entire body went rigid.

“W-What?” The word cracked in the middle, like it hit the back of his throat too fast to smooth out. His brows pinched together, mouth parted, lips dry as hell.

You sighed–soft and nervous–and pushed yourself up a little more, bracing your weight on your elbow so you could look him in the eye.

“I said,” You repeated, quieter now, more deliberate, “Do you want some help with that?” Rhett sat up a little too–mirroring you without realizing it, like his body needed to be closer. His face hovered just inches from yours now, the tension rolling off him like heat off pavement.

“Are you bein’ serious?” He asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded slowly, searching his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His gaze darted away for the briefest second, scanning the room like it might offer him a better answer than the one sitting right in front of him. But when he looked back, his expression was tight. Unreadable. Barely holding something back.

“Well, I mean…We’re friends…”

You raised your brows, your face still close, voice low but firm. “And we haven’t really been going out with other people. And sexual frustration is a thing, Rhett.”

He squinted slightly, more in thought than judgment. “You’re the one that said you wanted to take a hiatus from dating and stuff. I thought that meant physical things too.”

You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That was more meant for me because I really don’t feel much when…Y’know…Things are happening.”

Rhett stilled.

His lips parted just slightly, his breath hitching. Then his jaw flexed and he leaned in even closer, until the space between your mouths was damn near nonexistent.

“You what?” He asked, barely above a whisper. His voice sounded gutted–like it hurt him to even imagine it.

You swallowed thickly, heart rattling inside your chest. “I…I don’t feel much when I’m being intimate with someone.” There. It was out. A truth you rarely admitted out loud, even more rarely to a man.

Rhett’s jaw tensed. His throat bobbed. Something wild flickered in his eyes–something that looked a lot like heartbreak, but deeper. Protective. Personal.

“…How about I make you a deal,” He said suddenly, his voice husky and serious.

You tilted your head slightly, cautious. “What kind of deal?”

“Let me try somethin’,” He murmured, watching your expression with unshakable intensity. “And then you can do whatever you want to me after. Or nothin’ at all. You don’t owe me a thing.”

Your lips parted. “W-What do you want to do?” He reached up slowly–like he was afraid to spook you–and let his fingertips brush beneath your chin, giving you the softest touch he could with the calloused pads of his fingers.

”Lay back,” He whispered, “And I’ll show you.” You stared at him for one long, charged heartbeat–your skin prickling, your thighs already pressing closer, the ache in your core blooming slow and warm at the tone in his voice.

Your face burned as soon as the word left your lips.

“Okay.”

It was soft, nearly swallowed by the quiet tension in the room–but Rhett heard it. His eyes didn’t leave yours. Not for a second. His hand drifted from your chin to your shoulder, then eased you gently back onto the pillow. The mattress dipped beneath the shift of your weight, the sheets cool against your skin–but Rhett’s hand never stopped touching you. He moved with patience. With care.

And then he did something unexpected.

He slipped his arm under your neck–not in a way that caged you in, but cradled you. Like he wanted to hold your head up, protect it. His fingers curled gently into your hair, and his thumb brushed over your cheek. Slowly.

His voice came next, low and laced with something close to a smile.

“Remember that time…In high school, when we ended up kissing in Marley’s closet during seven minutes in heaven?”

Your stomach flipped violently, a swarm of butterflies bursting awake.

You narrowed your eyes. “You said you’d never bring that up.”

He chuckled, soft and rough. “It’s been long enough that I think I’m allowed to bring it up.” His thumb grazed your cheek again, and you swore it soothed something in you you hadn’t known was wound tight. “But anyways…Remember when you said you were nervous? Because you didn’t know what to do?”

You nodded slowly, your voice nearly a whisper. “Yeah…”

“And I told you to just breathe. Don’t even think about what was happenin’. Just breathe.” Your lips parted a little, your heart thudding louder.

“Yeah,” You whispered again.

His gaze held yours, warm and steady. “Well… Just do that again, alright? Just breathe. Think about something else. Got it?”

You hesitated. Swallowed.

“Rhett…Are you sure you want to do this? It’s going to be a waste of your time.” Your voice cracked near the end, thick with embarrassment and doubt you’d carried for too long.

His expression shifted. Not angry. Just…Struck.

He leaned down slowly, and before you could say anything else–before you could panic or second-guess–he kissed you.

It was soft. Just lips brushing lips. But it stunned you all the same.

You gasped faintly into the contact, breath hitching, body going still under the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours. He lingered for only a second before pulling back, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours again.

“I’m positive,” He murmured, voice low and resolute. “Now just relax, okay?” You nodded, even though your heart was pounding. You let your hands rest by your sides, fists curled lightly in the sheets as Rhett shifted closer, keeping his arm under your neck, still holding you, still touching your cheek.

His other hand drifted down. Slow.

He didn’t go for the obvious. Didn’t grab. Didn’t grope. Instead, his fingertips brushed along the hem of the shirt you wore–his shirt–lifting it just a few inches before slipping beneath. You shivered instantly, the cool air meeting your heated skin, and then–

His fingertips touched your stomach.

Barely there. Like the ghost of a thought.

They dragged gently across your skin, dipping just beneath your ribs, pausing, then continuing downward. Featherlight. Reverent. You sucked in a breath as goosebumps erupted along your arms and legs, your thighs pressing closer together as he traced the soft curve of your waist with maddening patience.

“Still alright?” He asked, his voice low, lips brushing your temple now. You nodded quickly, breath stuttering. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

His hand moved again–back up first, over the flat of your stomach, the pads of his fingers gliding like silk. He circled your navel once, slow and hypnotic, then dropped lower again.

And lower.

Until he reached the waistband of the boxer shorts.

His fingertips paused there, resting lightly on the elastic band.

He kissed your temple. Then murmured against your skin: “Can you lift your hips for me?”

You did–slowly, your legs tensing slightly as you pushed up just enough. Your breath hitched as the cool air rushed between the fabric and your skin when Rhett tugged them down, slow and smooth, watching your face the entire time. Your body sank back down onto the mattress as he pulled the boxers down your thighs, past your knees, until they slipped off entirely.

Rhett paused for just a second, the boxer shorts now discarded somewhere at the foot of the bed, the room still and warm as his gaze settled on you—completely bare in the soft hush of the early morning light.

His eyes traveled up your legs, over the subtle dip of your hips, and down again to the place between your thighs–and the air left his lungs like he’d taken a punch to the gut.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of it. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes still locked with his, every inch of you humming beneath the heat of his gaze. The sincerity in his tone–thick, reverent, gutted–made your breath catch.

Then, slowly, Rhett reached out. One of his hands cradled your knee, coaxing your leg outward, and he shifted down the bed as he gently murmured, “Spread your legs for me, Y/N.”

Your heart thudded. You hesitated—but only for a beat. Then, you nodded, slowly letting your legs fall open, nerves twisting in your stomach like warm thread as cool air hit you, followed almost immediately by the heat of his body slotting between your thighs.

His skin was warm against the inside of your legs—his shoulders wide and strong, his bare chest brushing the backs of your thighs as he settled in. You saw his eyes trail up your body again—slow, careful, like he was trying to memorize you. Then he looked up.

You’d closed your eyes.

Breathing slowly. Deeply.

Trying not to shake.

“Hey,” Rhett said softly, and you felt the mattress shift as he reached for you. His hand found yours where it lay clenched beside your hip. He interlaced his fingers with yours carefully and held on tight.

Your eyes fluttered open just as he leaned forward–and kissed the inside of your thigh.

A soft press. Then another. And another. Working slowly upward, like every inch of your skin deserved a proper hello. His breath was warm, his mouth even warmer, and every brush of his lips sent a new wave of heat coiling through your stomach.

By the time his mouth reached the top of your thigh, you were barely breathing.

Then–he tilted his head.

And he kissed you right against your core, and your whole body jerked.

Your hips twitched against the bed, your hand tightening in his, a quiet gasp slipping out of your mouth. His tongue traced a slow, deliberate line through your folds–like he was savoring you already. Like he was trying to learn what made you shake.

He kissed you again. Then again. Languid, like he wasn’t in any hurry. Like this wasn’t something to get over with–it was something to cherish.

His tongue moved with devastating patience, lapping and sucking gently, drawing shapes that made your thighs clench around his head. His hand gripped yours tighter.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, the words barely audible. Your back arched slightly, and you felt Rhett moan into you—actually moan—like your pleasure was feeding his. The vibration of it sent another jolt of electricity straight through your spine.

Then—his mouth didn’t leave—but you felt his fingers press gently against your entrance. He didn’t push in right away. Just teased. Traced. His tongue circled your clit once more—slow and wet—and then his finger slipped inside.

Your breath hitched, a sharp little gasp escaping you as your hips rocked upward without thinking.

Rhett stopped instantly, lifting his head slightly. His mouth was shining.

“You alright?” he asked gently, his voice low and rough and just a little breathless.

You looked down at him with wide, wild eyes and nodded quickly. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice cracking with need. “Oh my god, Rhett…yes.”

His mouth pulled into a crooked smile, his eyes still locked on yours. “Feel somethin’ now?” he murmured, teasing, affectionate.

You reached out and threaded your free hand through his hair–fisting it lightly at the crown, your hips rising up just slightly. “It’s witchcraft,” You whispered shakily, overwhelmed and already trembling.

Rhett laughed quietly, the sound sending shivers across your skin. “Nah,” He said, leaning in again, voice warm and sinful against your core. “It’s actually just me wantin’ to feel you come on my tongue, sweetheart.”

And then he dove back in.

This time, with more pressure. More hunger.

His tongue flattened against your clit, slow and firm. His finger curled inside you—and then he added another, stretching you just enough to make your breath come in shallow, frantic bursts. His pace increased, mouth and fingers working in tandem—sensual, focused, a little rough now.

Your thighs began to shake.

Your hips lifted and he pressed his arm across your waist to pin you gently down, grounding you while he devoured you like a man starved.

The noises he made—low, greedy groans—only made the tension build faster. Like your pleasure was his. Like getting you to break apart in his mouth was the only thing he cared about.

“Rhett,” You whimpered, barely able to breathe.

And then–he curled his fingers just right.

Your whole body seized. You let out a strangled moan, your mouth falling open against the pillow, your hand clutching his hair, the other tightening in his grip so hard you felt the tremor run down his arm.

Your orgasm hit like a freight train. Sudden, shaking, relentless. Your thighs clamped around his head and your hips bucked up into his mouth–and he didn’t stop. Not for a second.

He kept licking, groaning against you, working you through every last second until your legs twitched and your body slumped, utterly spent.

When he finally lifted his head, his lips were swollen, his chin slick. He looked completely wrecked–and proud of it.

His hand slipped out from between your legs, fingers soaked with your arousal as he licked them clean, before brushing his wet fingers against your trembling thigh. You were still panting, still half-blind with aftershocks. And he leaned over you again, eyes wild but soft.

”You alright, darlin’?” He asked, bringing his mouth to your cheek. You laughed–half a breath, half a sob–and nodded.

”Fuck, Rhett…Let me try and return the favour please…That was so fucking good.” He blinked down at you like he hadn’t expected it, like your voice alone could unravel him all over again. Then he let out a slow, ragged breath and leaned down, kissing you–soft, slow, indulgent. A thank you, a yes, a prayer.

“Okay,” He murmured against your lips, voice husky, “Yeah…okay.”

He eased onto his back beside you. The sheets shifted around you both as you rolled onto your side and slid your hand across his stomach, your fingertips brushing the light trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He watched you carefully, gaze gentle but burning. “You don’t have to, you know,” he said softly. “You already gave me enough just by lettin’ me–”

“I want to,” You cut in, voice quiet but certain. That stopped him. His jaw flexed slightly, his breath caught, and his hand reached up to cup the side of your face for just a second–his thumb brushing your cheek in a quiet, gentle pass. You kissed him again before shifting down the bed, your heart pounding as your thighs pressed together beneath the oversized shirt. You settled between his legs, your hands sliding up the tops of his thighs as he let out a low, shaky exhale. His skin was warm and soft beneath your palms, his muscles tense beneath the surface.

You hesitated just a little, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.

Rhett’s hand came down gently, resting over yours. His voice was low, coaxing.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. You’re doin’ fine.”

You pulled the fabric down slowly, watching as his cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already hard from the weight of everything he’d just felt and everything you were about to do. You swallowed nervously, staring for a second too long.

Rhett noticed.

“Here,” he said softly, sitting up just slightly. He wrapped his hand around himself first, guiding yours over his. “Just like this. Nice and slow.” His fingers slid away, letting yours take over, his breath catching the second you squeezed him.

You started slow, pumping gently from the base to the tip. The skin was hot under your palm, smooth and taut, and you watched in fascination as he twitched beneath your touch. His head dropped back onto the pillow with a thud, a low groan tumbling from his throat.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “That’s it. Just like that.”

You tightened your grip a little, experimenting, and Rhett’s hips lifted off the bed slightly. He let out a quiet, broken moan. “Fuck, darlin’–you’re already drivin’ me crazy.”

Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned forward, licking a slow, uncertain stripe up the underside of his shaft. He hissed between his teeth, his hand flying to your hair, not pushing–just holding. Anchoring.

“You sure?” He asked, voice tight.

You nodded, lips brushing the tip. “I’m sure.”

Then you took him into your mouth.

Just the head at first–soft and careful. The taste was salty and clean, a little musky, faintly bitter, but not bad. Just…Him.

You swirled your tongue around the tip, feeling his thighs tense under your hands, and then took him a little deeper, bobbing your head slowly, finding a rhythm.

Rhett cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in your hair.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He rasped. “You feel so good…So fuckin’ good.”

You kept going, learning by the way he moaned, by how his legs twitched, by the way he tugged at the sheets. You tried to take him deeper–and gagged, just slightly, your throat tightening around him. You pulled off, coughing softly, lips slick and eyes watering.

Rhett sat up a little too fast.

“Hey, hey–Y/N, you don’t have to do that,” He murmured, pushing your hair back, “Take it easy on yourself, alright? You ain’t gotta prove anythin’.”

You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m okay,” You whispered, voice breathy but determined.

And then you went back down.

This time slower. More confident. You pumped with one hand and sucked gently, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. Rhett’s breath went ragged again, his voice wrecked.

“Fuck, you’re–goddamn, you’re so good at this,” He groaned, hips twitching against your hand.

It didn’t take long after that.

You felt his thighs start to tremble, the hand in your hair tightening as he gasped, “Shit–I’m gonna come–“ It was more of a warning than anything, but you didn’t pull away. You just kept going.

His climax hit with a low, drawn-out moan. His hips stuttered and you felt his warmth spill over your tongue–salty, thick, slightly bitter with a sharp edge that made your throat clench. You swallowed instinctively, slow, letting it slide down, feeling him shudder beneath you.

When you pulled off, your lips were slick, your eyes glassy.

You licked your lips once and blinked up at him.

“…Did I do good?” You asked softly.

Rhett stared at you like he was about to lose his goddamn mind.

Then he sat up, grabbed your face with both hands–his touch tender but firm–and kissed you, slow and deep, his tongue massaging yours, tasting himself on you and you on him. He pulled back breathless.

”You were fucking perfect…So fucking perfect.” You collapsed back onto the mattress with a soft, stunned laugh, breath still coming in shaky waves as you wiped at your lips with the back of your hand. Rhett was beside you in a heartbeat, his strong arms already tugging you toward him like he couldn’t stand to have even an inch of space between you anymore.

You let him pull you into his chest–his skin still warm, heartbeat steady but strong beneath your cheek. His arm draped low over your waist, the other curling behind your shoulders like he was trying to wrap around as much of you as he could.

There was no tension now. No nerves. Just the quiet intimacy of skin on skin and breath against breath.

Rhett sighed softly into your hair, his mouth grazing your forehead before murmuring, lazy and fond, “We should do this more often…”

You let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle against his collarbone, your voice soft. “Yeah… I completely agree.”

There was a pause. The kind that felt full–not empty. Like something was waiting behind it.

You lifted your hand slowly, tracing a fingertip along his chest without looking at him. Then, voice smaller, more vulnerable:”You’re so…Safe.” Rhett went still beneath you.

Not tense. Just…Quiet. Like your words had caught him off guard and gone somewhere deep.

Then he smirked–soft and slow, the kind of smile you’d only seen a handful of times before. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, barely more than a brush of lips against skin, but it made you shiver.

“We can do whatever you want together,” He murmured, his voice like warm honey. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

That–his reassurance, his promise–settled something in your chest. Something that had been unsettled for a long, long time.

You turned your head just enough to look at him. Your nose nudged his jaw, and your lips were still curved when you whispered “You really mean it?”

“Of course I do.” He said simply. You couldn’t help the smile that rose up then, soft and wide and honest. It spread slowly, uncontainable, tugging at your cheeks as your hand splayed over his chest and you cuddled in closer.

Rhett exhaled against your hair, one hand trailing up and down your back in soothing strokes.

“You know what?” You whispered, voice thick with something more than just affection now–something raw and real and aching to be spoken aloud. “I think this is the first time I’ve felt like…Maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe I’m not the broken one.”

His fingers stilled. Then tightened gently at your waist.

“It was never you,” He said, quiet but firm. “They just didn’t know how to do things.” Your eyes welled unexpectedly. But you didn’t look away.

And Rhett didn’t look away from you either–not even when you whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asked.

“For…For showing me what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Rhett’s brow creased slightly, and he leaned forward, brushing his lips against your forehead again, like he was sealing the moment there.

Then, against your skin, he murmured, “Ain’t even gotten started yet, darlin’.”

————————

You and Rhett made an effort to see each other every other day after that morning.

It wasn’t always planned. Sometimes it was just a lazy drive that ended in a shared milkshake and quiet conversation. Other times it was louder–pool hall banter, bar games, him showing up at your place just to fix the damn sink he swore wasn’t level. But no matter what it started as, it always ended the same:

With your bodies pressed together. With your hands on his chest. With his lips parting against yours like he’d been starving all day.

The first time it happened again was at the drive-in.

You wore cutoff shorts and one of his flannels tied loose at your waist, and you didn’t even make it halfway through the previews before your legs found his lap. The movie faded behind you like static. His palm settled low on your back, and your mouth found his in the kind of kiss that made your teeth knock and your fingers curl in his shirt.

You didn’t even remember what was playing. All you remembered was the sound of your breathing turning into gasps when his hand slid between your thighs, his voice rough against your ear.

“You gonna let me feel how worked up you are already?”

You reached down, grabbed his wrist, and guided him to the apex of your thighs–slow, sure. His fingertips pressed against the damp heat soaking through your thin cotton panties, and Rhett exhaled like he’d been punched.

“Jesus,” He murmured, his forehead tipping against yours as his fingers flexed, just barely moving. “You’re soaked.”

You nodded, breath already hitching as you shifted slightly in his lap, grinding your hips forward just a touch. The thick muscle of his denim-clad thigh was already pressing against your core in the most devastating way.

“I wanna try something,” You whispered.

His eyes flicked up. Searching. Heated. Still trying to catch up with this version of you—bold, direct, knowing what you wanted and how you wanted it.

“I’ve always wanted to do it,” You admitted, your voice breathy but firm. “Especially with you.”

His lips parted. His chest rose.

And then he smirked.

“Okay,” He said simply. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

That’s all it took.

You adjusted your knees on either side of his lap, straddling him completely, your hands pressed to his shoulders for balance as you positioned yourself just right. His thigh was firm beneath you–years of riding and wrangling muscle. And you sank down onto it slowly, the seam of his jeans dragging perfectly against your soaked panties.

A quiet gasp escaped your throat.

Rhett groaned, hands rising to grip your hips–gentle, grounding, but not controlling. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles over your waist as he watched your eyes flutter, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“You good, sweetheart?” He murmured.

You nodded, barely able to breathe. “So good.”

You started slow. Grinding gently against him in small, slow circles–testing pressure, building friction. The thick denim created just enough resistance to drive you mad, the fabric catching on your clit with every pass.

You rolled your hips again. And again. Shakier each time.

Rhett’s grip tightened, guiding you just slightly–his hands molding to your curves like he was born to hold them. “That’s it,” He breathed, voice almost reverent. “Just like that… Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

You whimpered, burying your face in his neck for a moment as the sensations built, wave after wave, hot and pulsing and slow. Your hands curled into the flannel on his chest, and you swore you could feel his heart hammering.

Then you pulled back just enough to kiss him.

Hard.

He groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, encouraging your movements, letting you use him–letting you take your pleasure from him like he wanted nothing more. Your hips began to rock faster, your thighs trembling, the damp patch growing darker on his jeans with every pass of your soaked panties.

“Fuck, darlin’,” He gasped, his forehead pressed to yours. “You’re gonna come just like this?”

You nodded, dizzy, breathless. “I can’t stop…Rhett–I’m gonna–”

He kissed you again–slow this time, anchoring you as your hips faltered and your whole body seized up.

You came on his thigh with a broken sob of his name, shaking hard against him, every nerve burning, clenching around nothing as your hips twitched one last time and stilled.

Rhett held you through it, murmuring sweet things against your temple as you slumped forward, boneless and buzzing.

“That was…” You panted, barely able to form a sentence.

“Yeah,” Rhett said, his own breath shaky as he kissed the side of your head. “It was fuckin’ perfect.”

From that moment on, it was like you couldn’t stop.

The next week, he was driving you home, windows cracked, your hand resting on his thigh like it was second nature now. And somewhere between a curve in the road and a long silence, you leaned over, unzipped his jeans, and slipped your hand inside.

He choked on a breath. “Jesus, Y/N–what are you doin’?”

“Helping,” You said, voice teasing and low as your fingers wrapped around him.

You stroked him slow, lazy, while he tried to keep his eyes on the road, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. When he came–hot and fast–you licked it off your hand and the skin of his stomach without hesitation.

Rhett nearly crashed the damn truck.

Another time, you just climbed into his lap without warning. No teasing. No warm-up. You just needed him–needed the weight of him, the heat of his mouth, the security of his hands cupping the back of your neck like if he let go, you’d vanish.

You kissed him like you were going to disappear if he didn’t hold you tighter.

And he did.

Every time, he did.

He was addicted to you.

And you were addicted to him.

Yet somehow, you still hadn’t had sex.

Not because you didn’t want to. But because you kept finishing each other off before either of you could think straight.

It was chaotic. It was messy. It was you and Rhett–tangled in passion, steeped in something deeper neither of you had put into words yet.

Until one quiet evening when the summer air hung low and warm, and you turned to him and said:

“Wanna look at the stars with me?”

He blinked. Smirked. “Like, right now?”

“Right now,” You said, already sliding your shoes on. “Bring pillows and a blanket for the truck bed.” Rhett raised a brow, slow and deliberate, the corner of his mouth curving into something crooked and full of knowing.

“Oh,” He drawled, slinging an arm around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “You’re plannin’ somethin’.”

You only grinned as you wiggled out of his arms, walking out ahead of him before calling over your shoulder:

“Damn right I am.”

———————————

You and Rhett had a specific place you would go to when you wanted to look at the stars.

It was a lookout you had both found randomly one night, years ago, when you’d gotten lost coming back from a circuit. The GPS cut out somewhere along a winding dirt road, and the two of you had been bickering about turns when the trees finally gave way to a clearing so wide and open it looked like the sky had cracked open just for you. The ridge overlooked a valley, endless and quiet, the stars so close it felt like you could pluck them from the sky if you reached high enough.

That was the place he drove to tonight.

His hand was on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, fingers skimming just beneath the hem of your shorts. The low hum of the truck’s engine mingled with an old country song playing through the speakers–something slow and warm, full of steel guitar and dusty longing. The cool summer air flowed through the open windows, tousling your hair, raising goosebumps on your arms. But Rhett’s palm was warm and steady against your skin, his thumb tracing little circles lazily.

You shifted slightly in your seat, thighs parting just a little more, and he immediately took notice.

His fingers drifted inward–just a little. Just enough to make your stomach clench.

Then he started tracing letters.

Soft. Slow. One at a time, with the very tip of his finger, like he was spelling a secret across your skin.

“What’s that one?” He murmured, not taking his eyes off the road.

You blinked. Swallowed. “Uh… An S?”

“Wrong,” He smirked, squeezing your thigh.

“An E?”

“Nope.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “Then what was it?”

“Not tellin’,” He said, dragging another letter right after it, slower this time. “Guess again.”

You stared down at his hand, heat blooming low in your belly. “D?”

“That one was,” He said, a low chuckle caught in his throat. “But not the one before it.”

Your cheeks burned. You knew what he was spelling now.

He leaned closer, his voice thick. “Want me to keep goin’?”

You nodded, breath hitching. “Yeah…Keep going.”

He traced another letter.

And another.

You were just about to reach for him–just about to say screw the stargazing and climb into his lap right there in the cab–when the headlights hit the edge of the clearing, and the trees broke apart.

You both went still.

The lookout was exactly how you remembered it: tall grass, wildflowers curling in the moonlight, and the stars above glowing like soft embers in an old fireplace. The valley stretched below, dark and quiet, and the only sound was the breeze rustling through the open windows and the soft creak of the truck tires crunching over gravel.

Rhett cut the engine.

The music died.

Silence swelled between you, not heavy–just full. Like both of you were thinking the same thing and neither of you wanted to ruin it by saying it out loud.

Then Rhett opened his door and climbed out. You followed, your legs shaky as you stepped onto the grass, the air cool against your thighs. The tension was still simmering in your veins, but now it had space to breathe.

You grabbed the first blanket from the backseat while Rhett grabbed the pillows and the top blanket.

The two of you worked in an unspoken rhythm.

You laid the first blanket down flat across the truck bed, smoothing the edges with your palms. The metal beneath was still faintly warm from the earlier sun. Rhett climbed in beside you, placing the pillows near the cab, his knee brushing yours as he tossed the second blanket over your shoulders.

You didn’t speak as you climbed under it together.

You didn’t have to.

His body curved naturally around yours as you settled onto your sides, facing each other, the warmth of the blanket sealed around your bodies like a cocoon. Your foreheads almost touched. Your breath did.

Rhett’s hand found your waist under the blanket. His palm spread slow and deliberate, thumb grazing your hip, before lazily dragging across your stomach, the pads of his fingers skimming your skin like he was reading a prayer written in braille. You reached up and brushed his hair back gently, smoothing the strands that always stuck up in crooked directions. He sighed—low, content, eyes fluttering shut like your touch alone could unravel him.

His fingers slipped higher beneath the hem of your shirt, slowly, carefully. He tugged it up until you sat up and peeled it over your head. The night air kissed your bare chest, nipples tightening instantly under the sudden exposure—but you weren’t cold. Not with the way Rhett looked at you.

He stared like he was witnessing something sacred.

Then he leaned forward, lips parting just enough to drag across your collarbone before his teeth sank in—not too hard, just enough to make you gasp.

“Painful?” he murmured against your skin.

You shook your head, your breath shaky. “Stings a bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”

He smirked—something soft and sinful—and lowered his mouth again, kissing just beneath the mark he’d left behind. His tongue laved the spot slowly, like an apology and a promise all at once.

Then, his voice was velvet-wrapped gravel against your skin.

“Is there anything else you want to do with me? Any ideas you’ve got in mind?”

You shook your head slowly, eyes locking with his in the low, starlit dark. “I just want you to fuck me.”

He stilled. Just for a beat. Then smiled against your chest—slow and deep and pleased.

“Yeah?” he rasped, lifting his head to look you in the eye. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nodded, your heart pounding.

He leaned toward your jaw, kissing a soft trail until his lips brushed your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “Beg for it.”

You bit your bottom lip, breath catching, heart stuttering at the sheer weight of the way he said it. There was no mocking in it. No arrogance. Just pure, overwhelming need–controlled only by the thin thread of his patience.

His eyes shimmered in the moonlight, pale blue burning like lightning behind clouds. You leaned in and kissed him–soft, needy–and whispered against his lips, “Please…Fuck me…”

He shook his head, grinning with that maddening, slow confidence. “Gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.” You kissed him again–more desperate now–and as you pulled back, his hand came up to your face. He cradled your cheek like you were breakable, his thumb tracing the soft curve of your bottom lip.

“Open up,” He murmured.

You obeyed.

Your lips parted, and he slid his thumb into your mouth, pressing the pad against the back of your tongue. Instantly, your mouth watered, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him gently. His eyes darkened, watching you like he could come undone just from this.

He pulled his thumb out slowly, a glistening trail connecting your lips to the pad of his finger, then dragged it down–past your chin, your chest–until it disappeared beneath the waistband of your shorts.

His soaked thumb found your clit in one perfect stroke.

You gasped. Bucked.

“C’mon, Y/N…” He coaxed, voice a rasp as he rubbed slow, tight circles. “You want it, right?”

“Yes,” You whimpered, your hips grinding helplessly into his hand. “God, Rhett–yes–please–I need you–”

He groaned at the sound of your voice, fucked-out and pleading, and pressed his thumb harder.

“Keep talkin’,” He muttered, eyes flicking down to where his hand moved beneath your waistband. “Want to hear you beg while I’ve got you all worked up like this.”

“I want you to fuck me,” You gasped, your palm reaching for his lap now, squeezing his cock through his jeans. He was already hard–thick and burning hot under your touch. “I want you inside me–I want to feel it, Rhett. All of you. I want you to ruin me slow.”

He swore under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”

You kept rubbing, palming him harder now, feeling him twitch and grow impossibly harder.

“I want you to come inside me,” You whispered, eyes glassy. “I want to feel you finish deep. I want you to fill me up until I’m sore. Until I’m dripping with it.”

Rhett’s jaw clenched, his breath shuddered–and his thumb didn’t stop moving. Every nerve in your body was locked on the delicious, unrelenting drag of his thumb over your clit–your underwear now utterly ruined, soaked straight through, clinging to your folds in the most humiliating, erotic way.

Rhett kissed you again–hotter this time. Sloppier. The kind of kiss that made your teeth knock and your breath catch. His tongue slid past your lips, curling against yours with growing desperation, and when he finally pulled back, he did so only far enough to breathe against your mouth:

“Take off your shorts,” He rasped, voice wrecked. “And get on top.”

You nodded so fast it almost hurt, fumbling to shimmy them down. Your panties peeled off with them, sticky and wet between your thighs. You didn’t even try to hide the way they dropped to the side of the bed. Not with the way Rhett was watching you. Not with how he was already ripping open his jeans and pushing them down with his boxers in one rough, desperate tug.

His cock sprang free, flushed and hard and leaking at the tip, the moonlight catching on the slick sheen of it.

Your whole body ached as you climbed into his lap and straddled his waist, your knees bracing against the warm metal bed of the truck, the soft blanket bunched beneath them. You sank down slightly–not to take him in just yet, but to rub your soaked core along the full length of him.

The heat of him–thick and pulsing against you–dragged across your folds, every ridge and vein grinding right where you needed it. You tilted your head back with a breathless moan, your hips moving in slow, teasing circles, coating him in your arousal.

“Fuck,” Rhett groaned, his hands flying to your hips, holding you there, letting you grind against him like he was made for it. His eyes trailed up your body, pupils blown wide, chest heaving. Then he reached up and cupped your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples.

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful up there,” He rasped, voice trembling with restraint. “You like that? Like rubbin’ yourself on me like a good girl?”

You nodded frantically, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. “Fuck, Rhett…You already feel so good. I can’t wait any longer.”

He gave your nipples a teasing pinch, and you nearly came undone right there.

“You don’t have to wait anymore,” He murmured, voice thick with care and gentleness. “Take what you need from me, Y/N.” You reached between your bodies, wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, and guided him through your folds once more–wet and slow–coating him thoroughly before lifting your hips.

Then you aligned him with your entrance, and with one long, shaky breath…You sank down.

The head of his cock stretched you open, dragging against your walls in a way that made your whole body lock up. Your gasp cracked through the night air as you grabbed onto his wrist with both hands, using it as leverage while your head tilted back and your mouth dropped open.

“Shit,” You whimpered, your voice trembling. “So big…”

“Fuck,” Rhett gritted out beneath you, his jaw tight, his knuckles white where he gripped your hips. “You’re tight, sweetheart…Jesus Christ, I can feel every part of you.” You kept lowering yourself slowly, inch by inch, your inner walls gripping him like a vice as you took him in deeper, stretching around his girth with a burn that made your eyes flutter.

“Rhett–” Your voice cracked, pleasure blooming slow and low in your belly, “–Feels so full… So deep…”

He looked absolutely wrecked beneath you. His head tipped back for a second, the cords of his neck flexing, jaw clenched as he tried not to buck up into you too soon. His hands left your hips only to return to your chest, massaging your breasts again with wide, reverent palms, his thumbs brushing your nipples in slow circles.

“God, you’re perfect,” He rasped, his voice shaking now. You whimpered again as you bottomed out, the base of him pressed flush against you, the stretch relentless. Your thighs were trembling already.

Then his hand came up–slow, gentle–and wrapped lightly around your neck.

Not choking. Not restraining.

Just holding you there, grounding you, letting his thumb graze your jawline.

“You okay?” He whispered.

You nodded, lips parted, barely able to get the words out. “So okay,” You breathed. “You feel so fucking good inside me, Rhett.”

He groaned again, like your words alone could push him over the edge. His fingers curled slightly around your neck, just enough pressure to make your walls flutter around him.

“That’s it,” He whispered, eyes burning into yours. “Take me. Use me. Fuckin’ ride me Y/N. I’m yours.” He watched you with something close to awe–his pupils wide, breath ragged as your hips rolled in that uneven, desperate rhythm, your thighs quivering from how much you were feeling, from the stretch and heat and weight of him pulsing deep inside you.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Rhett groaned, his voice strained and reverent, one of his hands gripping your hip as you moved. “You’re so fuckin’ tight like this…Every time you come back down, I feel your pussy clutch me like it doesn’t wanna let go.”

Your breath hitched.

You whimpered again, high and shaky, your hands splayed on his chest for balance as you tried to keep going, but your rhythm faltered, hips stuttering with every twitch of your muscles. Every drag of his cock against your inner walls made you cry out a little louder.

That’s when his hands slid lower.

“Let me show you somethin’,” Rhett murmured, voice gravel-smooth as he sat up slightly and wrapped both hands around your waist. His grip was firm but gentle, like he was grounding you–like he was giving you something to fall apart against.

He pulled your hips forward, grinding you down slow, dragging your clit along the thick patch of hair above his cock.

You gasped, your eyes flying wide, hands bracing hard against his shoulders.

“Jesus fucking Christ–Rhett,” You gasped, your head falling back as your thighs quaked around him. “Oh my fucking god–”

“That’s it,” he breathed, dragging you again, slower now, more deliberate. “Feel that? Right there? That’s where I want you. Grind on me, sweetheart. Just like that.”

Your whimpers melted into full-bodied moans as he kept your hips moving in that rhythm–circling and dragging until you were damn near sobbing against his mouth, your clit raw and throbbing with every glide across the coarse hair and the thick base of his cock.

He didn’t stop until he felt your hips start moving in sync on their own. He let his hands slip back up to your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your nipples again as you rocked into him like you were losing your mind.

“Good girl,” He groaned, voice deeper now. “Look at you. Fuckin’ perfect. Soaked for me…Riding me just the way I like.”

Your breath hitched, your hands tangling in his hair as he leaned in, kissing up your throat–sloppy, hungry, and hot.

Then–suddenly–he sat up fully, his hands grabbing your ass and pulling you closer, forcing you to stay pressed tight against him as his mouth found your neck.

He gripped your hair and yanked it gently, exposing the smooth column of your throat.

And he started kissing. Licking. Biting.

Not enough to hurt–just enough to make you whine.

“Bet none of those assholes ever touched you like this,” He growled into your neck, rutting up into you now–slow at first, but deep. “Bet none of ‘em knew how to fuck you right.”

You gasped as he hit that spot again, your nails digging into his shoulders. “They didn’t,” You whimpered. “Fuck, Rhett–they didn’t. You’re the only one who’s ever–”

“Damn right I am,” He snapped, his teeth grazing your throat. “You hear that? That’s what you sound like when someone actually gives a shit about makin’ you feel good.”

He slammed into you again, this time rougher–deep and hard and relentless–and your whole body jolted forward, your nails dragging down his back through the thin fabric of his shirt.

He groaned at the sting. “Mark me up, Y/N. Let me feel it.” You were crying out now, your rhythm breaking down into messy, frantic movements, grinding and bouncing as best you could with how hard he was gripping your waist, how deep he was rutting up into you.

“Gonna come, Rhett–fuck–I’m gonna–”

“Come for me,” He rasped, slamming into you harder. “Soak me. Make a goddamn mess, sweetheart.”

Your vision blurred.

Your body locked up.

And then everything broke open.

You screamed his name as your orgasm ripped through you–wet and loud and overwhelming. You trembled violently, your whole body twitching as you felt yourself gush around him, soaking his lap and thighs, your slick coating every inch of him.

“Goddamn,” Rhett growled, his breath breaking into ragged pants. “Fuck–Y/N, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight–shit, I’m gonna–”

Then his hands flew to your hips.

He slammed you down against him one final time, holding you there with a bruising grip, his voice guttural and feral as he cried out:

“Fuck, I’m gonna come inside you–fill you up–gonna stuff you full of it, darlin’, so you’ll still feel me dripping out of you tomorrow–Jesus Christ–”

You gasped as you felt it.

The twitch. The pulse. Every thick, hot rope of cum flooding you so deep it made you clench again. He buried himself as far as he could go, his hips bucking wildly against you as he spilled every last drop.

You scratched your nails down his back again–hard.

He didn’t stop you. If anything, he moaned louder.

“Fuck yes, baby. Just like that.”

You collapsed forward, breath shaking, your chest pressed to his, your bodies fused together–hot and slick and shaking.

And he held you.

Tight.

Like you were the only thing tethering him to this goddamn earth.

Neither of you spoke at first.

Just heavy breathing. Soft trembling. The sound of your heart pounding where it pressed against his.

Then–barely audible–Rhett whispered against your ear:

“Guess what I’m writing?” Your breath was still ragged. Shallow. The tremors hadn’t stopped yet, and your chest was still rising and falling in uneven waves as you lay sprawled over him, your body warm and slick against his, your heart pounding so hard you swore it was echoing in his chest too.

“…Okay,” You whispered hoarsely, your voice barely carrying above the rasp in your throat.

Rhett didn’t say anything at first. He just smiled. One of those slow, crooked, half-cocky ones he couldn’t control when he was too soft to be smug and too smitten to pretend he wasn’t.

Then you felt it.

The gentle press of his fingertip against your outer thigh–bare, slick with sweat and still trembling slightly from aftershocks.

He dragged a slow line into your skin.

“I,” You breathed, voice soft and cautious.

He nodded, the tip of his nose brushing your jaw as he traced another.

“L,” You murmured, and he smirked faintly.

“Yeah,” He whispered against your cheek, his lips grazing your skin.

You didn’t breathe as he drew the next one–round and smooth.

“O.”

Another nod. His smile grew, quiet and reverent, the kind he only ever gave you when you were laughing in his passenger seat or half-asleep in his flannel.

And then he traced the last letter. Angled. Sharp. Deliberate.

“V,” you whispered. And this time, you stilled.

You pulled back just enough to look down at him, your hands sliding up to cradle his face. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t hide. Just met your gaze with those wide, ocean-blue eyes–like he was terrified and relieved and stunned that he’d said it at all.

Your thumbs brushed the corners of his mouth, your fingers curling gently along his jaw.

And your smile–God, your smile–was soft and sure and finally at peace as you leaned in just close enough for him to hear you when you said:

“I love you too, Rhett.”

The air shifted.

He exhaled like he’d been holding it forever, his brows twitching with something emotional and overwhelmed, and then he leaned up, kissing you–soft and slow and messy with gratitude.

When he pulled back, his voice cracked.

“You’re so good, Y/N…”

You smiled again, barely able to speak as your hands continued to caress his cheeks, your fingertips memorizing every inch of him like a prayer.

“You’re perfect, Rhett,” You whispered. “I couldn’t have asked for a better person to be in my life.”

And this time–neither of you said anything after.

Because everything that needed to be said had already been written across your skin.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Marry Me

➾In Which: Meeting your boyfriend for one last date to break the news — well, let's just say you should have sent a text instead and ran for the hills.

RATED X. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

"Your efforts have been cute but I'm tired of it. Time to face reality."

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, dead dove 🪦

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: DARK FICTION. DARK DARK. DEAD DOVE FFR. 403 possessive yandere, 414 punishment, home invasion, kissing and non-con kissing, toxic relationship, extreme controlling behavior, reader described as shorter than yunho, alcohol but not enough to even be tipsy, if i can't have you no one can ahhh yunho, forced legal marriage, insults towards reader: unsubstantiated slut shaming + cheating accusations, violence towards reader: manhandling + slapping + yelling + threatening with a knife + implied baby trapping and nc (i am so very sorry but yunho is the worst yandere in ateez, i fully believe it). pet names: love, doll, sweetheart. semi-abrupt ending cause i couldn't make myself go that far

"You think I'm finished? Oh, that's cute... Your punishment hasn't even started yet."

➯a/n: anon who requested this woke something dormant up in my brain about yandere yunho 😵‍💫 i think he's the yandere i MIGHT start writing noncon with IF i ever decide to because i legit can't see it going any other way until reader has INSANE stockholm worse than hwa's baby... mans is fucking CRAZY and SCARY and i luv him

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+. MINORS HIT THE ROAD.

─..★.─────

"Hey, doll," Yunho smiles as he walks up to the table.

Out on the restaurant patio, it's nice and breezy and it cools your nerves as you return his smile.

"Hey, Yunie," you crane your neck to look up at him as he bends down; cupping the side of your neck while giving you a gentle kiss.

"For me?" He points to the beer on the table as he pulls back.

"Mhm, it just got here, still cold," you nod, leaning back in your seat and taking a deep breath.

"You're so sweet, thank you," he takes the seat across from you, looking you up and down. "Is something wrong?"

"Hm? No," you shake your head quickly and wave him off, "I, uhm, I actually got some good news..."

"Really? What is it?" He asks before taking a sip; and you wait until he sets the glass down to speak. You think he might have choked if you didn't.

"You remember the position my boss recommended me for?"

His face drops slowly. Pressing his lips together, he nods slowly.

"They want me to take it-"

"No."

"Yunho, it's not up to you." You try to stand your ground, but your voice waivers.

"You'd have to move to the other side of the world!" His outburst gets the attention of a few fellow customers, and he slumps back in his chair; pulling his hat further down his face. "Have you even thought about this- the logistics? We'd be in two opposite time zones, when would we even be able to talk?"

You're quiet. Too quiet. Looking down at the table with something stuck on the tip of your tongue but you're afraid to say it.

"Sweetheart." He whispers as he leans forward, resting his arms on the table as he looks at you intently. "Don't fucking say what I think you're about to."

"I think we should break up."

You jump as he slams his hand on the table before quickly putting his face in his hands with a groan. "Fuck..."

"Yunho, I'm sorry..." You look down at your lap, "but it's- really, it's for the best. We can both spend more time furthering our careers and maybe in the future-"

"Are you kidding me?" He mumbles, hand over his mouth and looking at you with a barely contained storm of emotions in his eyes.

You avoid his gaze like it's the plague, bouncing your leg and holding your hands together tightly. "No. I'm serious. This is the last time we're going to see each other. I went to your apartment while you were at practice and got my things, and I left yours o-"

"Nope." He laughs, unhumorous. Like he's in shock. "No, sorry. Not happening."

"You can't just say 'no', this is the decision I'm making." You look at him for a moment with a glare before quickly look back down when you see his eyes locked on you like some sort of predator.

"Like fuck I can't, you said you were going to marry me one day. You said you wanted to have kids together." His voice is even, but it's laced with anger. He leans over the table and pinches your chin, making you look at him. "What happened to that, love?"

"I'm sorry, Y-"

He grabs your hands as you stand up, looking up at you intensely. "You can't just leave."

"Miss?" Both of your eyes snap to the elderly couple who's approached your table after hearing the ruckus. "Do you need some help?" The woman reaches towards you when Yunho stands quickly and pulls you to the other side of the table.

"She's fine. We're just having an argument, every couple does. Right, doll?"

You gulp as he rests his hands on your shoulders. Normally, in any other argument you had, you'd say yes. But this isn't something small like whose apartment to go back to or whether or not you should take birth control when he uses condoms anyway.

Thinking about that second one gives you pause.

It's like every little strange or controlling thing Yunho has ever said slams on top of you all at once; making your knees weak.

"...Yes." You squeak out, feeling his grip on your shoulders tighten.

"Let go of her, son," the older man steps forward, and Yunho only backs up.

"Sweetheart, seriously think about what you're doing. I love you like nobody else ever could, I want to share my life with you, please-"

You writhe out of his grasp, all but running to the woman; grabbing your purse from the table on the way. "Come on, dear, I'll take you to your car," she takes your hand quickly, rubbing your arm in a comforting manner as she guides you back into the restaurant to head for the front door.

Yunho can only watch, practically steaming with anger, as the man sizes him up. He's shorter, smaller. He could easily over power the old-timer. But people are starting to stare.

"Fuck," he groans, kicking a chair before taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair roughly. Already thinking of ways to make you stay when you've clearly made up your mind — for real this time.

You've never said those words. Break up. Not even when he made you just as angry as he is now when he snuck into your apartment and —

He takes a deep breath when the idea comes to him.

He knows how to make sure you realize that you don't get to leave him.

─..★.─────

Your tired and puffy eyes crack open as the bed shifts.

Then, they widen quickly as you catch the outline of Yunho's figure climbing on top of you. When you try to scream, he slams a hand over your mouth. "Shut up." He says shortly, silencing you as you feel something cold and sharp against your neck.

"This is all your fault. You're the one who broke our promises. I should kill you."

You feel the blade tilt against your delicate flesh, your eyes wide and begging; filling with tears quickly.

He's straddled over your hips, caging you against the mattress. He stripped the blanket away while you were asleep, leaving you in your large sleep shirt and panties. Suddenly feeling way too exposed even though he's not looking at you with anything besides anger.

He leans forward, nose to nose, "I'm going to move my hand. If you scream, I'm going to. Nod if you understand."

You nod. Quick and careful.

Taking a deep breath when he removes his hand, you tilt your head to the side to face away from him. "Y-"

"Me first." When you bite your trembling lip, he continues, "is there someone else?"

"What? No, no," you shake your head quickly, arms wrapping around your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself as his gaze burns through you.

"Are you lying?" He sneers as he grips the base of your scalp, making you yelp before you remember his threat and slam your lips together.

"Have you been slutting around behind my back? Is that why you were so damn insistent about your birth control? Hm? Answer me!" He drives the blade into the bed next to your head, making you jump to the side and grab at his other arm clumsily.

"No! No, Yunho! Wh- There's never been anyone else, I swear, I swear," you sniffle, looking up at him as your tears start sliding down your temples. "I swear, Yunie."

"You swear? Oh, you swear, do you? That's what you said about marrying me, too."

"I m-meant it," you sob as he yanks the blade from your bed; thinking you're its next target.

"Did you?" He yanks you up by the grip he has on the base of your skull, ignoring your cries as he drags you to your desk — where the only light in the room radiates from. "Sign it." He says simply as he shoves you into your chair.

You look away from him slowly, rubbing your sore scalp as you look at the paper.

CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE.

"Yunho..."

He raises his eyebrows, looking you up and down as he leans against the wall. "Sign it, doll."

"I br- but- I broke up wi-"

He pushes off the wall quickly and slaps you.

He slaps you so hard your ears ring. Your head snaps to the side. Your jaw drops. His hand is the size of your entire face.

"You say those words one more damn time..." He pants, throwing the knife onto the desk before slapping your other cheek; throwing your head in the opposite direction with a cry of pain. "I seriously fucking dare you. See what happens. I'm already mad, love. Your efforts have been cute, but I'm tired of it. Time to face reality. You belong to me. Sign the paper."

With a shaking hand, you pick up the pen quickly —

And you sign your name right next to his.

You drop the pen like it's burned you, staring at the paper for a moment before you look at him. He looks down at the paper and smiles, barely noticeable. "Good." He says before leaning and pressing his lips to yours roughly.

You stay there, stunned, until he pulls back — and slaps you. "Ow!" You scream. It hurts so much more the second time when your cheek is already sore and undoubtedly bruising.

"Say you're my wife."

"Wha-"

Slap! "Say it."

"I'm your wife..." You stare up at him, shivering, "Yunho, please, calm d-"

Slap! "Say you love me."

"I love you!" You yell as you push yourself back on the chair, getting caught almost effective immediately. "Please, stop-"

He wraps his hands up in your shirt and pulls you up, dragging you the few steps back to the bed and throwing you on it.

You fall onto your back and sniffle quietly, "t-thank you."

He laughs as he crawls back over you. "You think I'm finished? Oh, that's cute... Your punishment hasn't even started yet. You really think I'm going to go easy on you when you just broke my heart like that?"

Your heart falls into the depths of your uneasy stomach as he trails his hands up your waist. "You're my wife?" He arches an eyebrow, urging you.

"Yes," you nod, breath caught in your throat.

"And..." He leans over, mumbling against your lips, "you love me?"

"Yes."

"That's beautiful, sweetheart," he smiles a bit more before he bites at your lips. "I think I know what will make happy... What will make you stay."

Before you can tell him you've changed your mind, you'll stay as long as he never slaps you again because your entire face is sore now —

"A baby."

He slips his hands under your shirt, running them along your stomach. "Being a Mommy finally going to make you settle down? The Mommy to my babies?"

"Wai-"

"Yeah, it will~" He grins widely as he turns you to lay on your belly, shoving your face into the sheets as he speaks right into your ear, "and every time you look at them, you'll remember how much this fucking hurt."

─MARRY ME★.─────

[sevarchive]

જ⁀➴ blue lock ; kahoot edition

synopsis: in which nine blue lock players are forced into a “team bonding” on kahoot! starring: isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, barou shouei, gagamaru gin, and kunigami rensuke

a/n: this took me an entire day to write, edit, and recover from emotionally TT i really hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed losing my mind making it. have fun, i hope your brain short-circuits at least once. enjoy the ride 💀🧹

[ isagi started a call. ]

isagi: okay—okay, everyone’s here, let’s just—

barou: if one of you makes a fart noise into the mic i’m blocking you

isagi: i didn’t even say anything yet 💀

shidou: YOOOOO START IT I’M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. MY MOUSE IS READY TO VIOLENCE.

bachira: wait i can’t hear anything is that my mic or shidou screaming again?

reo: your mic’s fine. shidou can we please act like people for two seconds—

shidou: NAHHHHH I’M LOCKED IN CHAT

nagi: …i still haven’t opened it btw

barou: STOP BEING LAZY. OPEN IT. YOU TAP TWO BUTTONS AND YOUR WHOLE LIFE’S NOT THAT HARD.

gagamaru: gu—ys—wai—i—he—lp—

isagi: gagamaru are you STILL lagging???

gagamaru: i’m in a forest

rin: bro what

reo: are you in the middle of a national park right now—

gagamaru: it’s fine, i climbed higher. might have signal now… i think

shidou (laughing way too hard): MY GUY IS PLAYING KAHOOT FROM A BRANCH. A BRANCH.

barou (losing it): IF I LOSE TO SOMEONE USING TWIG SIGNAL I’M FLIPPING MY WHOLE SETUP.

rin: i hope this kahoot crashes

bachira: same but in a fun way

shidou: IM READY LET’S GOOOOO

isagi: okay okay i’m sending the game pin—we're not starting until everyone’s in, alright??

reo: someone tell nagi it’s not a visual novel he actually has to do something.

nagi (deadpan): idc. i’m just here to breathe and get questions wrong.

isagi: code’s 666420. join the kahoot. don’t pick dumb names this time.

chigiri: …that feels illegal.

bachira: OMG that’s my angel number!!!

Nagi: too lazy to type it. someone click for me.

gagamaru (faint, laggy): wai—don’t—start—i can’t—my screen’s—fro—

[ gagamaru left the call. ]

bachira: GAGAMARU NOOOO

reo: bro he’s gonna rejoin and say “wait what question are we on” when we’re on like #19

kunigami: wait what’s the code again i just got here—

shidou: THE CODE IS 666420—YOU’RE WELCOME! LOCK THAT IN YOUR MUSCLE BRAIN

chigiri: someone mute him PLS

[ gagamaru joined the call. ]

bachira: OMG TREE WIFI IS BACK

gagamaru: uhhh so signal’s kinda better now. a crow moved off the branch so that helped ig

reo: bro kicked karasu off the tree just to join kahoot

shidou: LMAO karasu somewhere in the woods like “damn my bad bro, didn’t know you were lagging”

isagi: ok who the hell just joined as @ben.d.over

everyone (talking at once): NAHHHH

kunigami: wait why’s everyone laughing what’s wrong with ben

rin: read it again slowly

kunigami: …oh my god

isagi: i’m ending this game already and we haven’t even started—

rin: i should’ve muted you all when i had the chance

reo: too late we’re in the trenches now

[messi_is_me has joined the game.]

[rin has joined the game.]

[HUGH MUNGUS has joined the game.]

[ben.d.over has joined the game.]

[richdaddyreal has joined the game.]

[leftthumbonly has joined the game.]

[imagine losing has joined the game.]

[EMPEROR_OF_GOALS has joined the game.]

[muscle_reaper7 has joined the game.]

[forestwifi_survivor has joined the game.]

isagi: bro who the hell is HUGH MUNGUS 😭

shidou (already dying): NAHHHHHHHHH whoever typed that needs jail and a hug

bachira: sobbing at ben.d.over omg pls whoever you are never change 💖💖💖

kunigami: this is actually a crime against maturity

reo: bro we’re in 8th grade again and it’s kinda fun ngl

gagamaru (still lagging): wait who’s hugh? did another person join??

barou: TCH. EMPEROR_OF_GOALS has ARRIVED.

everyone: bro. we KNOW it’s you 😭😭😭

isagi: ok BUT why is someone just rin 💀 that’s worse than being cringe

shidou: LMFAOOOO bro typed his name like it’s a school test

chigiri: nah bro said “i’m not like the other girls” and then picked nothing

rin: i am literally just rin. i have dignity. unlike the rest of you parasites.

bachira: ok “rin” 🙄✨

[ host clicks “start game” ]

[ kahoot music starts blaring ]

barou (mic BUSTED): LETS GO EMPEROR OF GOALS! I WILL ASCEND.

shidou (yelling over him): AYYYYYYY GET READY TO LOOOOOOOSEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥

bachira (cackling): MY EARS JUST LEFT THE CHAT 💀💀💀

chigiri: somebody MUTE THEM.

shidou (immediately): EZ. it’s RED. next question.

isagi: BRO DON’T SAY THE ANSWER DIMWIT 😭😭😭

reo: YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY IT OUT LOUD YOU WALKING CONCUSSION

bachira: LMFAOOO not shidou speedrunning self-sabotage

kunigami: this is why we can’t have nice things

nagi: does that mean it’s not red? 🤨

gagamaru (from the trees): wait hold up i just got signal what did he say

barou: TCH. if you don’t know the answer, don’t play the game.

chigiri: bro has the audacity to scream the answer like it’s a flex

rin: first question and the stupidity’s already astronomical

shidou: ok but like. i was RIGHT tho. you’re welcome.

isagi: this isn’t a group project bro SHUT UP 💀

[ leaderboard after Q1: ]

🥇 ben.d.over 🥈 EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 🥉 messi_is_me 4th — leftthumbonly 5th — HUGH MUNGUS

barou: SECOND?! I AM THE EMPEROR. I DO NOT ACCEPT THIS.

isagi: how the hell am i losing to a guy named ben.d.over

shidou: i’m FIFTH??? i SAID the answer out loud 😭

reo: you helped everyone and still fumbled.

nagi: me being 4th is actually a miracle. i clicked by accident

gagamaru (finally loading): wait the leaderboard’s up?? guys. what place am i

chigiri: bro you’re not even on it 😭

rin: one question in and i already want to mute this entire call

bachira: #1 babyyyyy catch me if you cannnn

gagamaru (already overwhelmed): ok wait wait. it SAYS “red” but the box is BLUE! do i click the blue box that says red?? or the RED box??

reo: just click the one that says red 😭 it’s not a trick question

barou (yelling): NO—JUST PICK THE COLOR

gagamaru: WHAT—WHICH COLOR?? THE COLOR OF THE BOX OR THE COLOR OF THE WORD??

bachira: i’m wheezing he’s getting gaslit in 4K

shidou: bro’s fighting kahoot, barou, and his internet all at once 💀

kunigami: nah that was dirty i won’t lie lol i had an existential crisis

nagi: i think he just blacked out and clicked uno

isagi: whoever designed kahoot is actually evil for that one

barou: IF YOU FELL FOR THAT YOU’RE A MORON. WORDS OVER COLORS. THINK WITH YOUR HEAD.

rin (finally losing it): you are all COLORBLIND. you are COLOR. BLIND.

[ leaderboard after Q2: ]

🥇 leftthumbonly 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 4th — messi_is_me 5th — rin

gagamaru (finally catching up): NOOOO i should’ve clicked the blue one that SAID red

reo: bro that was 2 minutes ago 😭 you still processing??

nagi (deadpan): ayo??? how am i first

bachira: YOU??? i was #1 you fraud

barou: THIS IS AN OUTRAGE. EMPEROR OF GOALS WILL NOT STAND FOR THIRD.

isagi: i’m 4th. this is bullying.

bachira: wait bro where’s imagine losing 😭😭😭

reo: nah don’t tell me chigiri’s not even on the board 💀

shidou: bro’s the fastest in real life but couldn’t even click a button in time 😭

isagi: he’s got 40-yard dash speed but lagging in kahoot reflexes 💀

chigiri (furious): I MISCLICKED ONCE

barou: sounds like skill issue to me

chigiri: ok but when i beat all of you in sprints i don’t wanna hear a thing

shidou: not if kahoot beats you first 🫵

isagi: there is ONE correct answer here. and if y’all pick anything else i’m calling the cops

reo: WHAT IS THIS QUESTION??? 😭

bachira: i voted for my imaginary friend. he told me to

shidou: gagamaru’s wifi is NOT the goat that’s the villain 😭

gagamaru (suddenly cutting out): i clicked m– krrch —own wifi an— skshh—wait why— disconnects

[ gagamaru left the call. ]

chigiri: NAHHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭 HIS WIFI TOOK IT PERSONALLY

reo: he clicked “gagamaru’s wifi” and it jumped him on sight 😭💀

shidou: HIS WIFI SAID “WHO’S THE GOAT NOW?” AND YEETED HIM OFF THE CALL 😭😭😭

bachira: self-inflicted lag. beautiful

barou (suddenly SCREAMING): WHY. IS. MY. REFLECTION. ON THIS DAMN LIST. WHO. PUT. THAT.

isagi: you sound mad for someone who looks in the mirror every 4 minutes

barou: I’M MAD IT’S EVEN AN OPTION. THIS BETTER BE THE CORRECT ANSWER OR I’M ENDING THIS GAME.

isagi: calm down emperor palpatine it’s not that deep

barou: SOMEONE CHANGE THE QUIZ NAME TO “WHO WANTS TO DIE TODAY”

shidou: NO LMAO SOMEONE GIVE HIM A POINT JUST FOR SELF-LOVE

[ leaderboard after Q3: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 leftthumbonly 🥉 ben.d.over 4th — richdaddyreal 5th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS

isagi: HUGH MUNGUS???? bro HOW are you first 😭😭😭

shidou (screaming): LET’S GOOOOOOO I AM HIM 😤💥💪

bachira: how did he climb all that from the pits of dumbassery

barou (still fuming): you’re telling me my reflection wasn’t correct?? YOU’RE SAYING RONALDO OVER MY MIRRORED GLORY???

reo: it’s literally a real person vs. your gym selfie 😭

[ gagamaru joined the call. ]

gagamaru (reconnected, confused): wait i got booted mid-question did the wifi option win or what

isagi: nah bro your wifi sabotaged you 😭

gagamaru: my router’s holding a grudge i swear

rin: i hate that HUGH MUNGUS is at the top of the leaderboard. i actually hate this.

bachira: don’t worry rin, you’re top 1...IN SULKING SPEEDRUNS

rin: i hate all of you

reo: WAIT. IS THAT RIN IN A BALLGOWN 😭😭😭

isagi: YO WHO MADE THIS QUIZ. WHO DID THAT TO HIM 💀💀💀

nagi: nah he lowkey serving… but also threatening

shidou: bro looks like he’s about to hit a pirouette and a homicide 💃🔪

rin (furious): WHAT. THE HELL. IS THAT PICTURE.

bachira: you in your disney princess era bestie 😚

barou: ENOUGH. I BETTER NOT BE THE RIGHT ANSWER. I AM FASHION.

kunigami: you wore zebra pants with gold chains last week–

chigiri: don’t forget the crown and the “born to score” crop top

barou: SAY THAT AGAIN AND I’LL SCORE YOUR FUNERAL

gagamaru (still buffering): wait why is rin dressed like elsa

reo: can we circle back to the fact that I’m an option too??

bachira: yeah that’s for all your rich boy yacht outfits 😭

rin: WHO MADE THIS. WHO ACTUALLY MADE THIS.

shidou: these questions got more violent than blue lock itself 💀

isagi: nah fr. this isn’t trivia, this is targeted bullying

bachira: AND I’M ENJOYING EVERY SECOND 😍

[ leaderboard after Q4: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly 4th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 5th — messi_is_me

shidou (wheezing): BAROU WAS THE CORRECT ONE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

bachira: LMAOOOOOOO I’M ACTUALLY CRYINGGGG

barou (screaming from his soul): EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?!?!

reo: oh my god he’s gonna suplex the kahoot server

isagi: no bc the zebra pants were a crime and the quiz just confirmed it 💀

kunigami: justice has been served. with glitter and shame.

barou: WHO DECIDED THIS?? WHO HAS THE AUDACITY TO PUT EMPEROR OF GOALS AS A FASHION FAILURE

nagi: you wear gold chains to practice bro

chigiri: and you showed up in crocs once. crocs. with spikes.

rin: Y’ALL ARE LAUGHING AND I’M STILL IN A DAMN GOWN

gagamaru (delayed): rin look like he’s about to sing “let it go”

bachira: BC HE’S LETTING GO OF HIS DIGNITY

barou: THIS. QUIZ. IS. RIGGED.

reo: NAHHHH THIS QUIZ JUST WENT PERSONAL 💀💀💀

bachira: “rin (but he’ll never admit it)” is insane levels of violence 😭

nagi: picked blue. left foot supremacy

shidou: i picked yellow. i want drama 😈

isagi: bro this is less trivia and more emotional exposure therapy

rin (furious): WHY AM I EVEN AN OPTION. WHO ADDED THAT.

bachira: sorry rin ur tsundere lore is out 😚

shidou: “he’ll never admit it” is SO real tho

barou: I THOUGHT THIS WAS A GAME ABOUT SOCCER. WHY ARE WE IN A TELL-ALL CONFESSIONAL

kunigami: lowkey “the idea of being better than everyone else” might actually be the most accurate

gagamaru (late as always): wait did sae join the kahoot??

bachira: no but i wish he did just to see him pick “himself” and log out

rin: this quiz is sick. i’m reporting it.

shidou: what’s wrong rin. you don’t love yourself the way sae maybe does??? 😭😭😭

[ leaderboard after Q5: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly 4th — richdaddyreal 5th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS

bachira: nooooo not “himself” 😭😭😭 SAE YOU SELF-LOVING BASTARD

isagi: bro really looked at love and said “me, myself, and i”

shidou: LMFAOOO RIN GOT LEFT ON READ BY HIS OWN BLOOD 💔💀

reo: can someone hug rin before he explodes

nagi: rin’s emotionally speedrunning all five stages of grief

barou: i don’t care if sae loves a brick, can we move on

gagamaru: wait so sae doesn’t love rin?? 😔

rin (low, dead inside): i’m. not. crying.

bachira: you’re just allergic to emotional damage??

shidou: guys don’t make fun of him. he’s top 1 in having a fictional situationship with his brother

isagi: can someone play sad violin noises over vc

reo: we need to end this before rin disconnects permanently 😭

nagi: yo is this next one the last question??

isagi: yeah yeah ONE MORE. FINAL ROUND. everyone breathe and brace!

isagi: WHAT AM I LOOKING AT

reo: WHY IS HIS APRON SO TIGHT WHO DID THIS

bachira: NOOOO HE LOOKS SO ANGRY YET SO SERVING 😭😭

nagi: this is the scariest and sexiest thing i’ve ever seen

shidou: TRUE. TRUE. TRUE. I CLICKED TRUE BEFORE IT EVEN LOADED

kunigami: what the actual hell is this quiz

barou (deranged screaming): WHO MADE THIS. WHO FOUND THAT PICTURE. I WILL END YOU.

isagi: bro why does he still look like he could bench press all of us in that outfit

gagamaru (in awe): wait fr… why is he kinda…

chigiri: no say it. we’re all thinking it.

gagamaru: …kinda bad

bachira: BADDER THAN YOUR WIFI 😭😭😭

rin: i think i'm gonna be sick..

shidou: maid barou supremacy forever. that apron’s doing heavy lifting

reo: he looks like he’s about to hand me a cupcake and then body slam me

barou (still unhinged): I’M ENDING THIS QUIZ. I’M DELETING KAHOOT. I’M BLOCKING ALL OF YOU

bachira: too late babe you're trending on maidtok 💅🧹

[ FINAL KAHOOT LEADERBOARD ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly

shidou (screaming): I WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNN LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOO 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

bachira: NOOOOOOO WHY DID I GET SECOND 😭😭😭 i wanted the power

nagi: i was just pressing colors. what happened

isagi: i dropped from 3rd to off the podium like my stocks crashed bro

reo: wait. where the hell did I go. am i in NINTH??

kunigami: i’m BELOW gagamaru. and he picked options with lag.

gagamaru (re-entering from the woods): i think i clicked red but it was actually green and the crow started screeching again

chigiri: y'all just imagine me being the fastest in blue lock and the slowest in kahoot like shut the hell up

bachira: chigiri fumbled the click bag 💀

rin: i hate that HUGH MUNGUS is the winner. i genuinely hate it.

isagi: ok rules are rules… winner gets to choose anything, right?

shidou (with the most evil smirk): YES. and i’ve decided 😇

barou (already panicking): no. NO. WHATEVER IT IS, NO.

shidou: you… barou-sama…are going to wear. the maid outfit. AGAIN. 😈 but this time... we’re POSTING IT ON TWITTER 🧍‍♀️✨

barou (screeching): WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

bachira: LIVE YOUR TRUTH MAID KING 😭😭😭😭

reo: we are boosting the tweet. everyone turn on RTs

nagi: wait let me edit the photo. adding sparkles and cat ears rn

gagamaru: can we tag ego

kunigami: you are all going to hell gagamaru. DON'T

barou (frothing): I WILL UNPLUG EVERY ROUTER IN JAPAN. I SWEAR.

shidou (typing on phone already): caption: "maid barou ready to serve AND score 🧹💘"

rin: i’m leaving. i’m logging off. this is brain rot.

bachira: SEE Y’ALL AT THE NEXT KAHOOT 😍🎉

[ vc disconnected ]

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

[luckyladylily]

This is a very weird post to me because it's the most technically correct thing I've ever read in my life, but in a way that makes me think OP has not only lost the thread on kink vs vanilla but has gotten so lost in the sauce they are missing the point of fan fic in general.

To address kink vs vanilla, I have extensive real world experience and I can tell you right now that you cannot predict or otherwise draw hard conclusions about kink based on a person's personality or lived experiences. There can be some patterns, but they are not hard patterns you can count on. This is the way in which this post is very technically correct. It is absolutely true that character's favorite position could be no frills missionary, even if they seem like the kinkiest mother fucker who ever walked the earth. Some people do in fact have vanilla sex.

But that's a very weird thing to point out because most people already know this, and even in explicit fandom fics with bdsm dynamics are out numbered by fics focusing on more vanilla sex, especially in fics that are actually about character work where bdsm dynamics are so rare fics like this often don't even exist at all for many ships.

I know this because, for personal reasons I won't get into, "vanilla sex" (and how people write it) is deeply uncomfortable to me. I like character focused explicit fic, but trying to find something that doesn't make me want to claw my skin off means sifting through dozens of vanilla fics to find one fic that strays from vanilla dynamics enough to be palatable. And that's when I'm lucky and such a fic exists at all. This has held true in every single pairing and fandom I've ever spent time in.

The only 2 areas where dom/sub dynamics or other heavy kinks outweigh vanilla dynamics in fandom is discussion of sex among kinky fans and one shots specifically dedicated to low or zero context sex. In other words, where interesting sexual dynamics are more important than the actual characters involved. The parts of fandom where characters are just pretty dolls we use to populate our sexual fantasies.

The second post has it completely wrong. In these spaces, It's not that kink is a substitute for personality, it's that kink trumps personality. Fandom is playing with dolls, and maybe for you character work is what it's all about, but that's not true for everyone. We all play with the dolls differently, and it's not like people who are in it for the low context sexual fantasy are suddenly going to be into character work now you've pointed this out, so what's the point? If these people won't play correctly (according to you), then they shouldn't play at all?

Fandom is not a zero sum game. Out of character bdsm one shots are not actually taking away from your character focused works.

This is complaining about people playing with their dolls in a way you don't like. If you prefer one way of playing with the dolls the answer is to find like minded people, not getting pissy about others playing with their toys wrong.

nothing but respect for our troops (smut writers) but listen. i dont want to be the person to tell you this, but not every character is going to be a dom or a sub. some people. and i know this is hard to hear. but some people do have vanilla sex. and some of those people might even be The Character.

[himasgod]

Hello! I just found you off of that request you did with Malleus dissing the reader's taste in men and it has me cackling! Since you wanted more, could I ask for the Leech twins, Jamil, Idia, and maybe Rollo with the same prompt? There's... a lot to complain about with them lol

Thank you for considering my request and sharing your writing with us in general! Be well, be merry, and eat something tasty today!

Malleus and Reader

Where he complains about the boys you like

APPROVED ONES EDITION AND FIRST PART already on my profile<3

How would Malleus complain when you told him about the boy you like?

With Floyd, Jade, Jamil, Rollo and Idia

“So… Floyd. Kinda into him.”

Malleus, blinking once—very slowly: “...The eel.”

“Yeah! He’s unpredictable, exciting, super intense—”

“He once threatened to throw you in a locker for saying his socks didn’t match.”

“But he didn’t, right? That’s growth!”

“He tried to bite Rosehearts last week.”

“That was honestly valid.”

“He refers to people as ‘fishes.’ You want to date a man who’d refer to you as his ‘favorite squeaky plaything.’”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“He carried you over his shoulder for fun and then forgot why he picked you up in the first place.”

“It was spontaneous!”

“It was concerning.”

“He would love you like a storm trapped in a bottle. Always one wrong shake away from chaos.”

"...Wow, Mal. That’s actually kinda poetic—”

“You would never know peace. You would get a ‘good morning’ text and then a ‘rawr I’m bored >:3’ five minutes later.”

"....huh"

"No. You're not dating Floyd. Not at all."

Malleus Draconia does not approve!

“Okay, what about Jade?”

“The other eel.”

“He’s polite! Cultured! Knows about mushrooms!”

“He tried to feed you a mushroom from the mountains. It was glowing.”

“...It was pretty.”

“It tried to move. It was probably some kinda of drug.”

“He’s mysterious! Sophisticated! I love a man with secrets!”

“He speaks in riddles. Smiles like he knows how you die. Enjoys danger recreationally.”

“He’s elegant!”

“He once said he finds pufferfish adorable because they inflate in fear.”

“You’re just threatened because he’s more graceful than you.”

"He tried to make tea out of Grim."

“That was a joke!”

"He was boiling water."

Malleus slowly, very slowly, walks toward you.

“If you date Jade Leech, I will prepare a coffin in advance. No guarantee of survival”

Malleus Draconia does not approve!

“I’m kind of into Idia.”

“I’m sorry—into what?”

“Idia Shroud. He’s cute! You know, in the nerd friki kind of way.”

“The one who clutches his tablet like a lifeline and refuses to make eye contact?”

“He’s shy!”

“He hissed at you.”

“He was nervous!”

“He hid behind a vending machine. For two hours.”

“But he’s clever! Passionate! He gets excited about things in this super intense way!”

“He spoke at length about his last game while your nose was bleeding from a cursed book and didn’t notice.”

“See?? He’s focused!”

“He would love you in all caps. Digitally. From a great distance. Through a monitor.”

“I mean yeah that’s kind of my thing.”

“You would receive three paragraphs of love poetry in code format and then not hear from him for a week.”

“That’s fine.”

“You would be second to his game launch schedule.”

“Honestly understandable.”

"I refuse. he'd put cameras in your room to watch you at night."

“Okay but Rollo is kind of… 👀”

Malleus turns his head so slowly it creaks. You have his full attention. And disappointment.

“Rollo Flamme. You have to be kidding me."

"OKAY BUT LISTEN-"

"The man who tried to purge all magic. Who referred to you—his guest—as ‘a necessary pawn in the cleansing.’ That one.”

“He was just going through it.”

“He unleashed cursed flowers. Nearly killed several of your friends. And, of course, he nearly killed me. And attempted to erase my very existence. Yours, too.”

“Okay but he’s hot.”

Malleus just closes his eyes. Visibly distressed.

“You… are in love with a magic-hating fanatical bishop with fire trauma and a weird haircut.”

“Yes.”

“A man who tried to outlaw joy.”

“Yes.”

“A man who speaks like a 19th-century villain in a gothic novella.”

“YES MALLEUS I LIKE THE DRAMA.”

“You would not be dating him. You would be his redemption arc. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?”

"And I’d look stunning doing it.”

“He would gift you a bouquet and then scold you for smiling too brightly or wearing something too revealing.”

“Hot.”

“Yuu. He would confess his love like he’s confessing a sin.”

“Yes.”

You're obviously out of your mind. Don't seek his love. Seek a psychologist. And another one for him. And if you continue like this, another one for me.

Malleus Draconia DEFINITELY does not approve!

“So… Jamil. I think he’s kind of hot.”

“You mean the one who tried to hypnotize Kalim and hundreds of people?”

"But Malleus you're not one to talk about-"

"He's literally a psychopath. Every time he smiles, poison oozes from his gums."

"Okay but like. Incredible cheekbones.”

“He was literally plotting regicide.”

“He was under a lot of pressure.”

“He said ‘I deserve a palace’ and then tried to build it with hostages.”

“...Honestly? Based.”

“He is cunning. Ruthless. The most two-faced person I've ever seen. And you find this appealing.”

“Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent.”

“He is full of resentment. Rage. Bottled hatred ready to explode.”

“That’s just spice”

Malleus gives you a side eye and pinches de bridge of his nose.

“He walks like he’s calculating how many exits are in the room.”

“And yet he cooks sooo well. Husband material.”

“You want to fall in love with a man who would flip the table at your anniversary dinner because someone mentioned Kalim too many times.”

“I want to love the man who flipped the table.”

“He would kiss you with resentment. And probably knives.”

“And I’d thank him.”

“Very well. You wish to love a man who is one insult away from becoming a genocidal I will not stop you.”

He looks up at the sky like he’s asking the stars what they think of this.

“But if you disappear one day and he becomes even more emotionally unbalanced than usual, I will know it was your fault.”

Malleus Draconia does not approve!

[peasack]

Hiya! Just want to say thank you for being such a talented writer! I love all your works so far, and look forward to seeing what kind of brilliance you create in the future. If you're still up for requests, could you do some hcs about how the group acts with a teen!reader who has a quieter, more shy, and sensitive personality?

AAA TYSSMMMM, and yes totally I loved writing thissss.

Hope you guys enjoy!!!

✦ Thunderbolts x Shy & sensitive Teen!Reader Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Alexei immediately assumes he needs to "fix" your shyness. He’s like “Ah! You are quiet because you are nervous! I will show you there is nothing to fear!” and proceeds to loudly, obnoxiously drag you into activities.

He genuinely means well, but his big, boisterous personality can overwhelm you at times. When you quietly step back or shrink away, he panics and tries to tone it down, but... he's not great at subtle.

Over time, he learns you actually like sitting quietly with people and that you open up best when it’s just the two of you, doing something like a puzzle or eating snacks. He starts seeking out those calmer moments with you.

Alexei loves to brag about you to the others like “My little one does not need to speak loudly to be strong! They are mighty in their own way!”

He becomes super protective. If anyone teases you about being quiet, he’s the first to defend you with a terrifying dad-glare like “Say it again. I dare you.”

✦ Bucky Barnes

Bucky gets you instantly. He’s also a quiet, sensitive person at heart, so your calm energy makes him feel safe. He’s actually super comfortable around you because there’s no pressure to constantly talk.

He’s the king of soft, silent gestures. handing you a snack, holding out a book he thinks you’ll like, sitting with you in comfortable silence. You don’t need words with him.

When you do speak, even if it’s just a few words, Bucky always listens like it’s the most important thing in the world. He never talks over you.

He’s very patient when you struggle to open up, and he never rushes you. “Take your time, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

If someone makes you uncomfortable, Bucky is silently at your side, his presence alone enough to make people back off. He’s your quiet guardian.

✦ Bob Reynolds

Bob is very soft with you. He knows what it’s like to feel like you take up too much space, so he makes space for you in the kindest ways.

He talks to you in a gentle voice, always making sure you’re okay with the conversation or the environment. “You wanna step outside for some air? It’s a little loud in here.”

He’s ridiculously proud when you trust him enough to open up. The first time you make a joke or initiate a conversation with him, he literally beams for the rest of the day.

Bob likes doing quiet hobbies with you, drawing, reading, watching clouds because it gives you both a chance to bond without the pressure of talking constantly.

He’ll fiercely defend your softness. “There’s nothing wrong with being sensitive. It means you feel things deeply. That’s not weakness.”

✦ John Walker

At first, John is unsure how to interact with you. He’s more used to loud, headstrong people, and your quiet nature throws him off.

He accidentally overwhelms you sometimes (he talks with his hands a lot, kinda barks orders) but the moment he sees you shrink back, he instantly softens. “Hey, hey, sorry, kid, didn’t mean to snap. You good?”

Over time, he starts actively seeking your input. “What d’you think? I wanna hear your opinion.” Even when you give a short answer, he takes it seriously.

He’s super protective of you at school or out in public. If anyone teases you for being quiet, John is immediately in their face like “Problem?”

John’s love language with you is doing acts of service, fixing your stuff, carrying your bag, making sure you’re fed, because he knows words aren’t always your thing.

✦ Yelena Belova

Yelena is so gentle with you. She’s playful and teases you sometimes, but never in a way that pushes your boundaries. She loves your softness, it reminds her of the part of herself she didn’t get to grow up with.

She’s really good at pulling you out of your shell, but she never rushes it. She’ll offer you snacks, invite you on small adventures, and let you say no without making a big deal out of it.

She starts purposefully sitting next to you during movie nights, quietly offering you bits of popcorn and checking in with a soft glance.

When you finally feel comfortable enough to call her your friend or share something personal, Yelena acts like it’s the biggest honor in the world. “You trust me? Good. I will kill for you now.”

She lowkey starts teaching you self-defense, not to make you aggressive, but to help you feel more confident. “Soft is good. Soft and safe is better.”

✦ Ava Starr

Ava is very attuned to people’s emotions, so she immediately senses your discomfort in loud or overwhelming spaces. She naturally shields you from attention without making it obvious.

She’s not super talkative either, so your quiet energy actually makes her feel more at ease. She’ll quietly sit with you, offering a calm presence and a cup of tea.

Ava can sometimes come off as a little intense, but around you, she softens significantly. She slows her breathing, lowers her voice, and always gives you space to speak.

She becomes really protective over you. If someone dismisses you for being quiet, Ava cuts them down with a sharp glare and an even sharper comment. “Just because they’re quiet doesn’t mean they don’t have something to say.”

She loves doing peaceful, grounding activities with you. Gardening, listening to music, long walks in silence, because she knows you feel safe when things aren’t loud.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

AAAAAA I love you guys so much for leaving requests I swear<333

Hope this was alright for what you asked!!

[winter-soldier-buck]

heart by heart ♡ b.b

pt. 2

pairing: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x singlemom!fem!reader

warning: uhhhh no new ones i can think of tbh

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: ahhh this took longer to write than i intended, my writer's block was BAD... also... shark week. iykyk. anyways, please let me know what you think of pt. 2 🥹 any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 🫶🏻

series masterlist

New York City, USA - August 2024

Tears streamed down your face as you lay in a fetal position on the cold tile floor of your kitchen, wondering where the hell you went wrong in life that would’ve meant leading to that exact predicament. On the bright side, though, you weren’t hyperventilating anymore and were pretty sure the panic attack had passed.

Slowly, you took another deep, calming breath and pushed yourself up from the ground so you could sit with your back against a cupboard door, resting your left hand gently on top of your 25-week-along baby bump.

Dealing with an unexpected pregnancy alone because your partner of over eight years left, well, less if counting the blip, went zero-contact as a way to keep you ‘safe’ before you even knew you were expecting was one thing. Being told that bed rest was required for the remainder of said pregnancy because of severe pre-eclampsia difficulties, while having no family in the city anymore to help keep your mind at ease during an already strenuous time, was another.

You’d never felt more alone in your life.

The evening had started fine. You got home from your doctor’s appointment half an hour prior, still processing the news that you’d have to spend the last almost three months of your pregnancy on strict bed rest. You were lucky when it came to work because switching to working from home wasn’t a problem. No more site visits were required for your most recent architectural projects, and you were in the early design stages of others. The timing couldn’t have been more right in that sense, and you tried convincing yourself that you could make do with your bed rest prescription.

What you didn’t take into account was how heavy life had already been feeling. That, since Bucky left and you discovered you were pregnant, you’d done an excellent job at pretending everything was fine when, in actuality, it felt like your life was tearing apart at the seams.

Bed rest was the unrealized icing on your already crumbling cake, which you didn’t realize until you got home from the doctor’s and accidentally dropped one of the strawberries you’d just washed to have for a snack onto the floor. Once you heard the berry hit the tile, you crouched down to pick it up. However, given how such a simple task became more difficult over time with your growing baby bump, you lost your balance and toppled over onto the ground, too.

You weren’t hurt, which you were thankful for, but you felt embarrassed and frustrated, which ultimately was the tipping point of the pent-up emotions you already had. The panic attack started shortly after.

It wasn’t until then that you finally accepted that you were not doing well. You still felt claustrophobic even as you worked to calm your pounding heart with more calming breaths and wiped away your tears with the back of your hand.

You felt trapped. It wasn’t just your apartment making you feel so confined anymore; it was New York City as a whole. You moved to the city with Bucky and created a life together. Now you had nowhere to go with so much going wrong, despite everything, including your pregnancy, reminding you of him. How the hell were you going to improve your state while being on bed rest alone for another three months?

To you, everything that could go wrong was doing just that. However, you needed to calm down. Hyperventilating on the kitchen floor wasn’t going to make the overall situation better for you or your baby.

“What am I going to do?” You whispered to yourself, voice cracking with another sob.

That’s when it hit you. You weren’t so alone after all, and you did indeed have somewhere you could go. It was somewhere that had been a place of solace for you years ago, and had people who welcomed you with open arms. It was a location that would forever be a safe haven where you were always welcome.

Quickly, you scrambled to get up off the floor and grab your phone from where it sat on the counter. Once it was unlocked, you scrolled through your contacts but paused when you clicked the name of the person you knew you could reach out to. Part of you didn’t want to bother them, but another part knew it wouldn’t be a bad thing to reach out. So, with another shaky breath, you hit the call button.

They picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, my friend,” the familiar female voice greeted, making you let out a cry of relief. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see.

“It will be,” you said, mainly to convince yourself as you sniffled. “But, right now, I need help.”

The Princess of Wakanda fell silent for a moment, worrying you when all you could hear from the other end was shuffling around, along with a series of beeps and clicks.

“Shuri?”

“Sorry, I needed to get comfortable and was pulling up your location. Tell me everything.”

~*~

New York City, USA - Late 2027

“Piggies or bunnies?” You asked from where you stood behind your daughter as you finished brushing her deep brown hair, then looked at her reflection in the large vanity mirror, since she hadn’t answered your question. However, she was too distracted by looking at your various skincare products that lay on the counter nearby to pay any attention to what you were saying. “Penny.”

She blinked, then immediately moved her blue-eyed gaze to meet yours in the mirror. The same eyes she inherited from her father that hit you like a truck each time you took a good look at them.

“Yeah, mommy?” She questioned innocently.

God, she was cute and she knew it too.

“How do you want me to do your hair today, babe? I can do piggies or bunnies. Oh! Or, if you’d like, we can keep your hair down and pull the front back in braids so it stays out of your face. What do you think?”

Penny looked at herself in the mirror, then pursed her lips in deep contemplation, acting as though it were the most important decision she’d ever have to make. It blew your mind that she was just weeks away from being a threenager, even though the attitude was already there.

“Braids!”

“You got it, darlin’,” you replied, then leaned forward to place a quick peck on her cheek before getting to work.

Once Penny’s hair was done, you helped her down off the bathroom counter, and the two of you headed to her bedroom together.

Laid out on the papasan chair that resided in her room was the collection of clothes she wanted to wear that day, but couldn’t decide which ones. Her indecisiveness was a trait you knew she inherited from you. Still, it made you chuckle as you ultimately combined a New York Rangers t-shirt with the pair of black denim jeans she selected since they were the only options that were remotely suitable for a casual day out in the city. After some convincing, she finally agreed to wear a cream-coloured cardigan as well since you reminded her of the crisp Autumn air that’d taken over NYC in typical late-November fashion.

When it was time to head out, you looked over Penny’s bedroom once more to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, and then your gaze landed on the top of her dresser. Amongst the collection of hair accessories and play jewelry, tucked back against the wall, were two items that never moved from their safe spots on the tall surface, mainly because Penny couldn’t reach them yet.

The first item was a beautiful, small, hand-carved and painted wooden flag of Wakanda with the words “Little Wolf” etched onto its back. That, along with the white wolf plushie Penny slept with every night, was gifted to you for her from Shuri, Okoye and Ayo when she was born.

The second item was a framed picture of Bucky, which you took years ago of him smiling and unsuspecting that his photo was being snapped. It was one of your favourite photos of him, which was why you chose it to reside in Penny’s room when you first brought her home.

Since then, from time to time, you would show her the picture and tell her who it was. She knew the man in that image was her dad, but she didn’t know him or what Bucky being her dad meant. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t around and never asked either. Given that Penny wasn’t quite three years old yet, she was accustomed to life being her and her mom against the world.

Which was why you grew more anxious about going out with each passing second. However, you forced a brave face.

“Pen,” you started, moving your stare back to the toddler. “Do you remember what we’re doing today?”

“Ice cream!” She exclaimed and looked up at you with a big smile as you moved toward her, then crouched so you’d be closer to eye level.

“Yes, we are going to get ice cream. But, do you remember what else we’re gonna do?”

Her eyes widened.

“The park!”

You giggled at how excited she was getting.

“Heck yeah, we are,” you told her, unable to stop smiling as you observed her. “While we’re at the park, though, someone is going to meet us there. He’s an old friend of Mommy’s. Is that ok with you if he joins?”

“Sure, Mama,” Penny nodded, still grinning at you before she crashed into you for a hug.

Your heart swelled so much it felt like it could burst. You wasted no time returning her hug, holding her tight against your chest while you kissed the top of her head.

“Perfect. I love you, Bubba.”

“Love you too, Mommy.”

~*~

Being a true New Yorker, you knew all the hidden gems the city had to offer. However, you couldn’t deny that tourists were onto something when it came to certain spots.

Central Park, despite being a major tourist attraction, was one of your favourite spots in NYC, and Penny inherited that love for the park too. It was a special spot for both of you, a love you shared.

This was why you felt indifferent about it being where Penny would meet Bucky, even though she didn’t understand the significance of him being the ‘old friend’ of yours she was meeting. However, Central Park was one of her safe spaces, which was why you agreed for their inevitable meeting to be there.

It’d been over two weeks since you reconnected with Bucky in that coffee shop. Since then, he’d given you plenty of space. He kept in contact with you, which took some getting used to, but you liked it. You missed him, which was a flurry of emotions you weren’t ready to address just yet.

One thing that really got you during those two weeks was how Bucky didn’t press you about meeting Penny once. You had set a boundary, promising him that meeting Penny would happen when you were ready, which Bucky respected. When he reached out to you, he’d ask little things like how your day was going, which, in the long run, meant a lot and complicated that array of emotions you were already feeling when it came to him.

But, at the same time, you expected nothing less from him. It was Bucky who set the standard you had for men to be set so high. It was part of the reason you hadn’t moved on with anyone romantically after he left. Not because you were holding out, hoping he’d come back, but because he made you realize how very few men there truly were in this world of boys.

Because of how deferential Bucky was about meeting Penny, you started feeling guilty for dragging it out. After some consideration, the night prior, you reached out to him asking if he was free to meet you and Penny the following day. Bucky jumped at the opportunity.

You both agreed on convening at Central Park in the afternoon, which was why you planned a little Mommy/Penny date day out of it.

Penny held your hand as the two of you strolled around Bethesda Terrace, one of her favourite spots in the entire park. She thought the terrace was beautiful, and the architect in you couldn’t agree more. It was a place you’d both people watch, while just enjoying each other’s company.

However, you already knew this day in your spot with Penny wasn’t going to be as peaceful, but it still would’ve been impossible to predict what was to come as the two of you sat down by the fountain together.

“So,” you started, smiling while tucking a stray piece of hair behind Penny’s ear. “Do you know what kind of ice cream you’re going to get, little miss?”

She glanced up at you with an unimpressed expression, as if asking you why you were asking stupid questions.

“Mommy,” Penny replied and raised an eyebrow at you. She knew that you knew what her favourite was.

You chuckled.

“Ah. Chocolate, right?”

Penny scowled.

“Nilla.”

“Of course,” you responded, still laughing at the pout she continued staring at you with. “You know I’m just messing. I’ll get your Vanilla ice cream, don’t you worry.”

Penny nodded in approval, then went back to people-watching.

After a moment of observing her, you shook your head at the little diva you were raising, then pulled your phone from your coat pocket, knowing it had to be nearing the time Bucky said he’d meet you both. Sure enough, there was a missed text from him. However, there was another missed text and seeing their name had you feeling hit by a wave of guilt.

It was Caleb, the guy you’d been talking to for just over two months.

Caleb was great. He was kind, charismatic and genuinely seemed so into you. You liked him a lot, too. He was the only guy that you’ve really felt anything for since Bucky left. Any others just consisted of miserable first dates that didn’t evolve into anything else.

But Caleb was different. However, you’d unintentionally put him on a bit of a back burner once Bucky showed back up in your life again, which had you feeling terrible.

You stared at his text thread in your phone for a moment but ultimately decided not to open it. He deserved a proper response from you, and your mind was too scattered because of what was about to happen, to give that to him.

Exhaling, you put your phone back in your pocket, not responding to either man as you joined Penny in observing the people nearby.

Immediately, your gaze fell on a man standing about 20 feet away who was dressed head to toe in black. Normally, seeing someone wearing such an outfit in a place like New York wouldn’t faze you, but for some reason, this man was staring right at you. Unmoving amongst the swarm of people that buzzed past him.

Nothing about the man seemed familiar to you, so you glanced over your shoulder to see if he was looking at someone else behind you. There was no one there, which made you feel on edge.

You whipped your head forward again to look at the man, but suddenly, he was gone, as if you’d imagined him being there in the first place.

“You ok, Mama?” Penny asked, snapping you out of your daze as she looked up at you with a concerned expression.

“Yes, baby, I’m fine-,” you started, but cut yourself when a familiar voice sounded nearby, immediately pulling your attention to them.

“I really don’t know why you’re still following me,” Bucky grumbled as he weaved through the bystanders on the other side of the fountain, looking handsome as hell in his dark grey button-down jacket. “I said I was fine and wanted to be alone.”

“You were weird today,” a woman with short blonde hair and a thick accent replied, keeping up with him effortlessly. “I want to know what’s wrong with you. Would you rather me follow you in secret?”

“I’d rather you didn’t follow me at all. I have a life outside of you guys, you know?”

“No, you don’t, Bucky. You love us. We’re a team, we should-.”

“Bucky, hi,” you greeted, standing up as the two approached. You felt awkward interrupting them, but if you didn’t say anything, they would’ve walked right past.

“Y/N,” Bucky said, coming to a stop. His hard expression softened once he laid eyes on you. Then, his gaze moved to Penny, and you could see the flurry of emotions flashing in those beautiful blues. However, before he could say anything more, the woman he was with cleared her throat, making him jump. “Right, uh, Y/N, this is Yelena. We’re coworkers. She wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Teammates,” Yelena corrected, rolling her eyes at Bucky before she surveyed you. “Y/N, that name sounds familiar.”

“Oh, well, I knew Nat quite well,” you told her, smiling softly. “That could be why. She told me a lot about you.”

Yelena nodded, smiling back.

“You knew my sister. How you knew her, I’m assuming, has to do with how you know Bucky.”

“Yeah, something like that. Bucky and I have known each other for a long time.”

“We used to date,” Bucky stated firmly.

“Used to?” Yelena asked. “She must’ve come to her senses.”

You chuckled, shrugging as you looked back down at Penny, who was observing the other two unsurely as she partially hid behind your leg from where she stood next to you.

“And this is my daughter, Penelope,” you continued, reaching down to grab Penny’s hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Penny, this is Bucky and Yelena. Bucky is the friend I was telling you about. Can you say hi?”

Penny was silent for a moment, her eyes locked on Bucky. She blinked a few times, not looking away from him as she studied his features. You wondered if she recognized him from the picture in her bedroom, but was unable to connect that it was the same person.

“Hi,” Penny replied meekly, then inched closer to you. She was so incredibly shy.

Squeezing her hand again, you looked back at Bucky and Yelena.

Your knees almost gave out at the way Bucky looked at Penny. He studied her as though he thought she might disappear on him at any second, but looked completely mesmerized by her as he did so. Acting like he needed to memorize every perfect little thing about her as though his life depended on it. He was in complete awe of her, and it showed.

“Cute kid,” Yelena said, kind of ruining the moment.

“Hi, Penny,” Bucky spoke in a soft, gentle voice. The slightest bit of tears welled in his eyes as he smiled widely. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

You remained silent as you observed Bucky, but became distracted when Yelena noticeably kept looking between him and Penny.

“She kind of looks like you,” Yelena started, then gasped, eyes widening as realization washed over her. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait a minute.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed at her.

“Yelena,” he warned.

“You two used to… is she? You have a kid!?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Yelena asked incredulously. “No way. This is GREAT news. I can’t wait to tell the others. But, why are you acting like you just met her for the first time?”

“That’s because he just met her for the first time,” you chimed in, not missing the way Bucky nodded at you in thanks. “It’s a really long story.”

Yelena looked flabbergasted.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he refused to make eye contact with Yelena. However, his stare fell back onto Penny, making him noticeably relaxed. “Not exactly how I imagined this going.”

“It’s ok, we just-,” you started but cut yourself again when footsteps stopped behind you and someone spoke.

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” a man said, making you freeze.

Slowly, you turned around, once again wondering where the hell you went wrong in life and how it could’ve led you to this exact moment. Because, on top of everything else going on, there stood Caleb.

taglist 🫶🏻: @avengersfan25 @wonwoosthetic @xprloki @ordelixx @cherrypieyourface @xhazzz @avafaustus @lazyneonrabbitt @lovely-seb @a-book-lover-things @herejustforbuckybarnes @capswife @avivarougestan @vicmc624 @sebastians-love @chiyayaa @mcueveryday @buckysdoll1940 @mattyblover07 @alicetesser

[cologona]

What’s funny about the assertion that Jason is a Punisher figure whose fans are just too fanfic-brained to accept him for what he is, is that he’s never actually Red Hood in the comics which characterize him like that.

Not a crimson cranium in sight…

I think it’s because the classic Red Hood look is such a complete and instant reminder of the pragmatism (and cynicism…) that defines Jason’s post-res character, that you can’t have him wear it and simultaneously portray him as a typical lethal vigilante without it becoming immediately clear that you’re phoning it in.

Just look at the contrast between these two. Batman is all about the image while even the most “costume” part of Jason’s fit (the helmet) has practical use. No cape, no spandex, no symbol. A self-styled villain and transparent criminal.

It isn’t until all the way toward the end of the post-crisis continuity during Morrison’s run that Jason faces Dick as Red Hood (it’s always the stories where Jason is playing antagonist for Dick lol) but even then, the Red Hood mantle and costume must be completely inverted in concept. Huge high neck cape! Spandex bodysuit with thigh-high boots to match! A big fuck-off skull symbol!

We’ll give him a dildo head and a sidekick too, sure why not.

Like I’m left wondering how this guy is at all connected to the character we were initially presented with. The Jason who, feeling betrayed by Bruce and identifying Batman’s unyielding idealism as the problem, went into the exact opposite direction.

I understand writing Jason as a hypocrite who’s ultimately just traumatized and lashing out about it. The UTRH movie executed that idea very well! But even in the movie Jason’s approach is a very grounded one.

I understand making the point that for all his critiques of Batman, Jason himself is still bad and in the wrong. Please believe me that this is not a complaint about my blorbo not being Correct. But even in the infamous Robin #177, though it’s terrible and wrong for other reasons, the concept of Jason using kids as bullet-fodder is at least still recognizable as an idea drawn from his ruthless utilitarian bent.

Psychologically, how do we go from character that rejects heroism so thoroughly, to embodying a warped version of the silver age?? How does Jason go from “eliminating crime is a bullshit goal for insane babies” to “Let’s Kill All Da Baddies! That’ll solve everything! :D”

…The answer is he never did. Jason in these stories is just a cog to move the plot forward. He is Jason Todd in name only and literally has plot-psychosis in most of these panels. These comics are not relevant to conversations about Jason’s character, and especially not relevant to conversations about Red Hood. Let’s face it, they’re fanfiction on the level of Lobdell.

[olgasaysso]

The apothecary diaries made me realize something very interesting about how women perceive power...

I can't be the only one who noticed that in stories written by women power is often compared to a prison or a cage meanwhile in the ones written by men it's mostly fun and freedom.

It is that women tend to see power as more of an responsibility and men think of it as the ability to do whatever they want?

The apothecary diaries made me think of it first. I discovered with surprise that I actually like the emperor, which I almost never do. Any guy that has relationship with more than one woman at once tends to disgust me, especially if he's in a position of power but for some reason not him.

Because the emperor is as much a prisoner as the 2000 women in the rear palace. Maybe even more because as long as he doesn't touch them, they're allowed to leave.

Like on one hand, he's the most powerful man in the empire. He calls the shots, right?

But on the other hand, he can't even properly protect Lishu from being sold to some pedofile by her father. The only way he could protect her was to make her his concubine and how f*cked up is that? She's like a daughter to him and the only way he could protect her was by marrying her? And then he couldn't even spend time with her anymore because that would be read wrong.

It's the fact that 3 of his children died because there was no proper medic to save them due to the fact that they don't allow non eunuchs to treat them and forbid women practicing medicine... when he doesn't even care about that. He hasn't blinked once at Maomao running around the inner palace and being a doctor.

At first when I was watching the story I thought of how horrible it was that he didn't even visit Lady Lihua after their son died. But then it made me think of how he's literally not allowed to get attached because of his position and how hard it is for him? The fact that he couldn't even provide enough support for Lady Ah-Duo so she doesn't lose her uterus? The fact that she switched their baby with his brother and he had to watch his son grow up "away" from him?

There's so much more to this, especially with Jinshis approach to power and I could go on an on but I think I made my point.

And when I started comparing the stories written by women to those by men... Women tend to write power as more of a burden than a gift.

After watching TAD I watched solo leveling.

And for those of you who don't know, it's basically a story about a guy who suddenly "discovers" that he's like a character in a game (not exactly but it's be too long to explain) and basically finds out that he has endless potential and over the course of the story he becomes the most powerful being in the entire universe.

And there's a moment where he's talking to his little sisters friend that gets very misread as something inappropriate by another character.

This other character points out, kindly, to Sung Jinwoo that the girl is a minor.

Sun Jinwoo doesn't understand so he just looks at him and asks "so?".

And so the guy immediately gets scared and never mentions it again despite the two of them being friends.

This moment is kind of played for laughs. Nothing actually happened, Sung Jinwoo is a good guy so he wouldn't.

But he could. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

And when I watched that I laughed too. But then I thought of how terrifying that is. To have someone be so above the law, this untouchable. Who can do anything he pleases because no one will ever stop him.

But that's never actually adressed in the show other than to show us how cool this is.

It this was written by Natsu Hyūga there'd probably be a million different situations to show us how fucked up this is and how it weighs on the main character.

In the apothecary diaries Jinshi doesn't even want to ask anything directly of Maomao because he doesn't want her to interpret it as an order.

[halogenwarrior]

Agreed with nuance. I love these types of arcs sometimes but I think whether the redemption or self-sacrificial hero dying is bad writing or not really depends a lot on the context of the particular character. While most people seem to hate "redemption deaths" no matter the context, I hate them when the clear narrative motivation behind them is that the character doesn't deserve to live or it would be more complicated if they lived and they don't want to deal with that narrative, especially of the character themselves thinks they don't deserve to live and the narrative agrees with them by presenting their death as heartwarming and a fitting end/the best end a character could have after what they did (and unfortunately this is most of them in fiction). And especially if the thing they are atoning for really has nothing to do with any kind of selfishness or cowardice and in fact they were the "loyal to a cause above their own lives" type even pre-redemption. However I think it can work when their arc is about being selfish or cowardly, not being willing to give up even a little happiness or power or money for other people (and importantly in no way thinks they deserve death even when they atone), in which case giving up their very life can be the most impactful thing they could narratively do to show how they've changed. Or when they very much want to live but it's not the redemption that kills them but a "tragic hero" arc where the consequences of their flaws and mistakes do them in in a way that's presented as cathartic but not fundamentally deserved and they are able to have some realization of their wrongdoing/attempt to do good on the inevitable way out. Or if they are suicidal and think they deserve death but the narrative doesn't agree with them and their death when it happens is framed as tragically unnecessary rather than agreeing that it's a fitting ending. But I feel like this nuance gets lost with the "redemption deaths are bad no matter what" takes you usually see on this website.

And likewise with the self-sacrificial hero version, I sometimes love the trope of them living I'm a sucker for a good story about a suicidal character finding through hard struggle a reason to live, but if it's done wrong it can come across as protagonist-centric morality; if the character doesn't come off as suicidal but just doing the rational utilitarian thing in valuing a few or many others over their own life, but the narrative keeps criticizing them for that because don't they know they are the main character, so their life is more important than all of those NPCs? Especially if lots of other characters die including self-sacrifices in the story without being saved and it's only the main character who gets spared like this. While finding some contrived way to let said "NPCs" live anyway so they don't have to actually deal with the moral implications in implying the protagonist's life is more important than everyone else's.

Edit: so I think the best ways to pull off the "self-sacrificial hero learns to be less like that and lives" version is either to show the character's suicidal motivation distorts their judgments making them jump to martyrdom when they would objectively be able to do more good alive even if it's not as flashy and romantic (as opposed to self-sacrificing being the entirely rational choice every time), or show that the same attitude that leads to wanting to sacrifice themselves leaves to distortion of judgment in other ways (other kinds of self-effacing, or alternatively distancing themselves from others and having a sense of superiority as the self-sacrificing hero and devaluing others' lives for their goal as well, for example), or even both.

i love when characters don't get to die

[bamtor1sss]

———————Rent—Free Feelings

pairing: 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 // 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗎 ౨ৎ—WC 7.5k

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 ????, 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌, 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍

⪩ ⪨ - 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗇. 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇—𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍— 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇… 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍

warning: no protection (wrap ur willy!), aphrodisiacs, multiple orgasms, taehyun cries a little, handjob, little bit of dirty talk, sub!taehyun, overstimulation, nipple sucking f!rec, stuttering(?), neck kisses

A/N : THIS is an actual train wreck of a fic... im not sure how i feel about it- like after 5k words i got lost- my writing had less energy ngl 😭 but i hope everyone enjoys nonetheless!! (im never doing this many words again...)

thoughts about kang taehyun? well there was a lot…

kang taehyun was the ideal guy, the whole package; he was academically smart not only that but he was intelligent, people smart—the type to win you over with his wits and mannerisms that made him seem like he cared. he was good looking—well built physique which had girls all over him, great at sports to the point he didn’t even have to try to be good at them and generally was very likable. winning him the high popularity throughout high school and university

is what most people would say but you? you’d say quite the opposite, sure he was smart but he’s cocky. a know it all—the type to push his opinion in your face and make it seem like you were small. he was good looking sure. but he was a totally jerk about it man-whoring with every girl he got the chance. and him being great a sports?—you say he just bribed every teacher and coach like he does to get ahead of everything. that stupid smug grin and wink he’d flash just for good measures. to say the least you despised kang taehyun with your whole heart.  

but it wasn’t always this way, in fact you knew him in high school and you both weren’t exactly friends but you weren’t exactly acquaintances. you two were both in the same friend circle and you had started liking him… sure you were still getting to know him but he seemed really smart, he was kinda shy which seemed to add to his charm, and honestly he was pretty fun to hangout with.

 him just being himself made your usual loud and outgoing-self pretty timid around him, wanting to make a good impression. 

that was until you were hanging out with some friends—and taehyun made a harsh comment maybe jokingly that cut deep. to you, in front of all those people made your whole world stop spinning—the kind of feeling where the words sting, lingering in your mind long after the laughter fades, like you’re caught between wanting to laugh it off and wanting to shrink into the background. and to make things worse he noticed and he still laughed. 

and you never forgot it. 

you laughed it off in front of others but it hurt, and it stuck. it’s honestly been so long you started to forget what he even said, you were a pretty outgoing person, sometimes speaking too quickly and dressing maybe a little too bold for high school. maybe it was about your voice, something else you were insecure about. but whatever he said stuck. 

you started to keep a healthy distance between yourself and him instead of just upright confronting him, and when you grew defensive making sharp comments towards him, he started to assume you now hated him, so he doubled down-better to act like it was all a game than admit he was wrong, that he cared. 

besides absolutely getting embarrassed by your former crush 

the two of you both started to feel this awkward tension that neither of you chose to address and decided to replace with sharp bitter remarks and the urge to do everything to one up him, make him feel like how he made you that day, which totally didn’t work. despite taehyun being an absolute jerk to you, he really was a good person, like genuinely he was kind and cared for people.

 but when it came to you? 

it was just awkward tension that filled the room and his only way of dealing with it was making your life absolute hell. that time you wanted to run for lass president? he made sure he ran as well and somehow got more votes than you, purposely scoring higher grades than you on exams just to get under your skin. it was always a competition, one you couldn’t win. thankfully that all ended once you graduated high school and parted ways with taehyun—life suddenly wasn’t so bad. you were even able to get into a great university and everything was great—

until you realized you couldn’t actually afford to live on your own… great. just great. i mean SURE, maybe… you had A FEW terrible spending habits—like ordering food when your fridge had things in it, your totally justifiable need for cute stationery—but you didn’t realize it had gotten this bad?? like it wasn’t your fault rent and textbooks were criminally overpriced… you thought maybe you could power through with some part time job, maybe selling a few clothes you hadn’t worn anymore. but the math wasn’tmathing.. and you weren’t trying to end up homeless for the sake of pride… so you did what any desperate student would do—post an open call for a roommate…

you made the post in all the local student housing groups: 

“hi!! looking for a chill roommate to split rent with :) i’m clean, responsible, can cook sometimes, message me if interested!”

and then you waited.

and waited.

and waited…

OH my god how long is this going to take???-

why didn’t anyone tell you it was actually THIS hard to find someone who wasn’t  creepy, ghosting you after the first message, or looking to “share a bed for bonding purposes *smirk emojis*”—???— it was actual hell. this one guy named yeonjun said they needed the place only on weekends so they could “crash with their situationship on weekdays,” another literally tried to turn the roommate application into a job interview: what are your top five strengths and weaknesses? who even asks that dude??? just when you were about to give up all hope and turn on your personal playlist dedicated to crying

and regretting all your life choices!

ding

a message.

“HOLY SHI-“ you screamed and jumped up re-reading the notification. after THREE (yes only 72 hours…) long, soul-crushing days, you got a NORMAL offer to split an apartment. finally—someone normal, someone decent, someone who responded in full sentences. maybe—just maybe—things were looking up.

…until you saw the name on the message request.

kang. taehyun.

you stared at your screen, blinking. “WHAT THE HELL?” you screamed again in the span of one minute…

no-

no. no no no no n o.

there’s literally no way. did the universe just… hand-select your worst nightmare and present him to you on a silver platter with a “roommate” label on top??? you must’ve committed serious sins in a past life. something had to explain this level of karmic retribution. and the worst part? his message was SO normal..?

“hey, saw your post in the housing group. looking for a roommate too. can split rent 50/50. i cook, clean, and don’t mind noise.” 

like he TOTALLY didn’t dedicate all of high school to ruining your life one petty move at a time. same person that made that joke that you can’t even remember but only could remember how painful it was to hear..

this couldn’t be real.

so you simply closed the app.

reopened it.

the message was still there.

you closed it again.

restarted your phone.

reopened the app again.

kang taehyun. your only offer. so yeah. you were either about to make the worst decision of your  life or become one of those delusional people who think they can ‘emotionally detach from reality and live in denial’ … i mean taehyun, sure was a jerk to you—but that was a while ago. and he was pretty nice to his family?- so maybe it wouldn’t be that bad- maybe he’d somehow forget about you and you wouldn’t have to relive that awkward tension again..

either way, rent was due, you had to make a choice. so you did, you accept kang taehyun offer

“hey! sounds great, you can come over this friday around 11am if that’s good? just to checkout the apartment and whatnot :)!” 

you hit send, you stared at your phone after hitting send. and almost instantly he thumbs up the message—

yea, you were really doing this…

———

i mean yes, you DID tell him to come by exactly at “11am on friday”and yes. it is exactly 10:55am ON friday—i mean you knew this day would come sooner or later just not exactly THIS soon…

after nervously walking in circles around the apartment—going through ever possible cringy scenarios, you decide to sit at one of the bar stools at the counter. anxiously tapping your nails against marble slab… it’s not like you weren’t  totally about to make the WORSE decision of your life sharing an apartment with the same person that literally made your life miserable?

“ughhhhhhh” you groaned into your hands

i mean you MAY or MAY NOT have stalked his instagram after agreeing to let him check out the place—it’s the only responsible thing to do right? gotta see what type of person he was…right? totally wasn’t absolutely drooling over him?? OKAY maybe he had gotten a little more attractive than you remembered and sure you hated him with all your guts but you did have a little crush buried under all that hate… 

i mean god—the way he’d really grown out of that boyish look…  every picture looked handcrafted by god. 

he posted a mirror selfie in a hoodie and you literally had to sit down after whispering “sir” out loud. to your phone. 

oh my god. 

his skin looks like it’s made of soft light. he could step on m-

ding

you looked down at your phone to see his messages:

“hey are you home? i’ve been knocking for a bit”

HE WAS HERE??(yes. in fact he was. it was currently 11:03am.) you jumped up out of the stool, nearly tripping over your own foot—your hands frantically smoothed down your shirt, running through a thousand phrases to greet him with. you unlocked the door. and there he was. kang taehyun, in the flesh. and somehow even more annoyingly good-looking in person?? like actually unfairly attractive. and tall. why was he taller??? when did that happen??

“hey, thanks for letting me see the place.” he said casually, as if the universe wasn’t actively mocking you by being in this situation even. you forced a smile, one that carried years of unresolved trauma.

“long time no see, taehyun.”

he blinked.

you waited.

still blinking.

“y-y/n???” he finally blurted, eyes wide like he just got hit in the face with a textbook. “it’s actually you??”

you raised an eyebrow. “who else would it be?” you shot back, arms crossed.

he ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “jesus—i didn’t think it’d actually be you. i thought maybe someone else just had the same name or something.” you scoffed. “so… you didn’t recognize me from the post?”

“no! like, not at all. you didn’t have a profile picture—just a dog icon and a very vague ‘about me’ which could honestly describe like, half the student body.??” 

you crossed your arms. “yeah, well, desperate times.” you tried to sound unbothered, edgy and totally not like you were on the verge of loosing your place if he didn’t agree“damn….” he mumbled quietly. stepping inside anyway. 

“you must really need help with your rent, huh?”he snorted “you’re literally the one who responded to my post.” it was already starting again the bickering. he shrugged like it didn’t matter. like everything was a game and he was already winning.

you followed behind him, watching him scan the place, of course he didn’t say it, but you could tell—he liked it. he liked this 

“place is nice,” he finally said, hands in his pockets. he looked around, then turned to face you. “this still sucks though”

you blinked. “what?”

“you and me. same roof. not exactly a dream team, right?” you stared. “wow, look at you—still insufferable.”“and yet,” he said, smirking, “you still agreed  to share with me”

“again. desperate times.” you cut him

off, glaring at him from the counter. he walked up to you slowly yet so deliberately, arms crossed. backing you into the counter “right. so we’re clear then? we’re not gonna do the whole ‘we’re best friends now we’ll forget about old stuff’ thing?“

you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. 

“oh, thank god. i was actually worried you might’ve grown up.”he smiled like ACTUALLY smiled... and then he spoke now he was towering over you 

(i mean you both were basically almost the same height be goodness he felt taller by a lot…)  

“yeah, just not in places where you’re concerned.” you blinked, WHAT? he’s grown up-  IN PLACES?? WHAT PLACES? WHERE? was he talking about his body-?!  you literally were internally screaming but on the outside you kept the calm façade—

“no promises though” he continued

you clenched your jaw. taking a deep breath (which was more for your mental sanity than anything)

he smiled wider.

“so… we doing this?” he asked, way too casually. “roommates?”you stared at him.

every bone in your body said don’t do it.

“…yeah. sure, we can do this.” “cool,” he said, pushing off his feet and tossing you a lazy thumbs up. “don’t worry. i’ll try not to ruin your life this time.”

you gave him a look.

he winked.

you shut the door in his face—not completely, but just enough to get the last word. and just like that, it’s begun all over again.

———

somehow you’ve successfully managed to avoid all interactions with taehyun, 

I mean sure you’ve had an unhealthy amount of bickering with him. 

petty argues and some very—VERY embarrassing moments during class, which may or may not have been from you raising your voice louder than necessary to get your point across to your seat mate 

(aka taehyun) 

due to him testing your patience. 

but aside from that you’ve successfully ignored him despite having to also live with him! 

somehow working together to pay rent on time and keep the place pretty clean

and thankfully you’ve outgrown your childish crush over him (or convinced yourself that you have)

i mean sure taehyun was really smart, witty, always was ready with quick, sharp—calculated replies which should’ve frustrated you more than anything but something about the way the corner of his lips would curl into a smirk, his teeth slightly showing and his eyes having that knowing look.

that look of ‘yeah, i know you enjoy this stuff’ 

that made your heart flutter wayyy more than it should have

and when you’d think of a quick reply—one that would actually catch him off guard. he would run a hand in his hair, that was one of your personal favorites.

WAIT wait

no 

no… 

you definitely did NOT like him.

 he was a jerk to you only. 

he treated everyone else normally, not to mention that joke he made about you. the one you couldn’t remember but you know the damage it did and you swore you’d do everything to make Kang Taehyuns life horrible. 

is what you kept telling yourself but goodness it was hard—anytime you would feel yourself starting to swoon for him you’d recite that to yourself like a ritual, as if that’d change your fast developing feelings for him. 

but as of lately, it hasn’t been working.

 so you decided to completely distract yourself from him and get an entirely new love interest!

yes! this is a very horrible thing to do.

poor eunwoo was a victim to one of your insane plans… 

he was really smart, not top of the class smart like taehyun but he was up there—he was funny too, his dimples would show before he even started smiling. he was too cute really.

you had the courage to talk to him and exchange numbers, and well things were going pretty smooth. 

it wasn’t like “oh yeah we’re officially dating” smooth—but it was a good start to take your mind off of your developing feelings for taehyun. 

in fact it didn’t take your mind off of him, it made it VERY worse…

which taehyun started noticing. 

despite you feeling like he cheated his way through class through the favor of his teachers—taehyun was actually very observant and very much so noticed your obvious stares at his lips during the two of yours bickering. 

the way you’d swallow lightly, part your lips, and look down at his lips like you were making it your personal goal to seduce him (maybe a little bit)

of course taehyun never panicked, not outwardly at least but the steady unease he felt.

 that tension that coiled in his stomach… when you both shared in your daily routine bickering—he felt his self control slip.

those cute pink shorts you’d wear. the way you’d fiddle with the ends of the shorts when you got annoyed—like you were begging for him to slip it off and just take care of you right there

fuck.. he could feel himself getting worked up thinking about it. and to make things a lotworse.

you lived in the same apartment

the same space

you were always a hallway apart and that made it more torturous. and now it was february 13th, the day before valentine’s day. 

well technically it was already february 14th since it was past midnight but who cares about technicalities…

you were making a gift for eunwoo in the kitchen. trying your best not to make too much of a mess because—if he (taehyun your insufferable roommate) found out. 

he would never let this go… 

today you had spent all day earlier picking out cute chocolates from very odd looking shops.. "fancy imported chocolate" labeled from a very quirky looking boutique... 

you didn't bother to read the label too carefully (it was cute, and you were flustered). 

the ladies there eying you up and down telling you that you needed to buy “other exotic toys” that made you pay and rush out the shop as fast as possible feeling flustered to what they were possibly alluding too.. and then the cute little plushies you’d found for him!

and well, you thought this would be the perfect time to prepare the cute little gift for him since taehyun was out cold asleep 

you were assembling the gift and remembered the card you had wrote for eunwoo was left in your bedroom—the card you wrote was simple at best, you didn’t know if he had felt the same way or already had someone in mind so you decided to keep the card neutral  mostly 

“happy valentine’s day eunwoo~ i hope you like these chocolates and the small plushies… maybe we can hangout sometime? xx”

you were absolutely sure your plan was smooth and bulletproof, there’s no way this could fail… 

until 

you heard noise coming from the kitchen.

you were sure you were the only awake

you saw taehyun leave the house, come back talking about how tired he was and waltz into his room… 

you hadn’t heard one of the hallway doors open

you felt chills run down your spine and your heart started to race, you grabbed the nearest object in your room. 

a hello kitty vase—a new piece you got to fill your very empty desk.

you slowly walked out your room,

step-by-step you walked down the hallway, lifting the vase—and—and?!

“taehyun?!” you screamed, causing his eyes to shoot up. you caught him mid way eating the chocolates you had put together for eunwoo “what the hell are you doing?!” you yelled, rushing over—sitting the vase down on the counter 

you looked down on the counter, different packages were scattered but one particular chocolate tin you had spent the most on, was opened—the heart shaped chocolates eaten and the wrappers scattered all around the counter, he had ate basically all the chocolates in the tin.

you felt like out of all the things he’d done this was the lowest so far..

 “what? this wasn’t for everyone?” he cocked his head to the side, smirking slightly.

you felt tears rush to your eyes and you tried your absolute hardest to blink away the tears. 

and it happened again—the bickering

the yelling, the finger pointing. you walked up closer to taehyun looking into his eye “you knew i was giving that to eunwoo! you’re such a jerk! you-you’ve been ruining my life since i could remember and once i finally—start moving on you ruin it again!” you

 felt your heart starting to beat faster “weren’t you supposed to be asleep?! are you just messing with me—are you trying to ruin my life?!” 

you were going on and on. and admittedly you were waiting for him to reply—to give a sharp witted response but you slowly stopped speaking.. taehyuns eye contact became so—intense. 

lingering. then he finally spoke

"ooooh~desperate times, huh? going full rom-com with cheap chocolate?" 

he said breathlessly, shifting the weight on his feet. something was off

but contrast to his words, more noticeable his gaze traveled over you in a way that seemed unintentional like he acted on impulse with no control—but definitely wasn’t very subtle. he tugged at the collar of his shirt, panting now

“what’s wrong with you?” you snapped “you look insane right now…” you mumbled

taehyun closed his eyes and ran a hand in his hair and something in the air changed, thicker and warmer

"what the hell did you feed me?" he snapped. you frowned because you didn’t feed him anything 

HE went through your stuff 

“actually i didn’t feed you anything, you went through my stuff” you glared, and he cut his eyes towards you.

 “but fine i’ll check since you look like you’re about to have a full on allergic reaction” you huffed. 

mumbling something about you ‘wouldn’t mind if he choked to death’ 

you grabbed the chocolate tin to read the ingredients. squinting your eyes to make out the small cursive writing and oh my god..  your eyes widened. gulping slightly 

"Sensual Delight~Arousal~enhancing truffles. infused with natural aphrodisiac herbs.”

your stomach dropped.

and your head snapped up to where taehyun was leaning on the kitchen counter, now more flushed and to what looks like he was slightly trembling.

you looked back down to read it again to make sure you read that right, and oh no.. the chocolate was definitely real. he was definitely starting to feel it now.

"t-taehyun" your mumbled, panic creeping in slowly but surely steadily 

“don't freak out, kay?” 

he was already sweating, eyes looking hazy—his pupils were blown wide, and his skin looked too warm, like his body was trying to keep up with something it didn’t understand. something it shouldn’t be feeling 

“i don’t know what aphrodisiac are but- it says something about arousal enhancing—erotic chocolates for the night-“ you mumbled and you swore you saw taehyuns eyes turn red 

you would feel threatened but then you  noticed the boner that was painfully obvious right now… you knew he wanted to be mad but—the effects of the chocolate were running overdrive due to how many he actually ate (aka almost the entire tin)

“what the hell y/n?! you’re telling me you don’t know what the fuck aphrodisiacs are? you just drugged me and—and now your telling me not to freak out?-!" he rose his voice as he spoke, leaning his head back. 

panting like a dog at this point

"it was—! i didn't know, okay? I thought it was just chocolate. It was supposed to be for eunwoo … you weren’t even supposed to eat those and i swear i didn’t know what it was?!—" 

you said it with such genuine remorse it kinda made him more pissed off, the fact you really were planning to give these chocolates away. 

eunwoo would’ve been the one worked up, and he started thinking about the things he would’ve done to you while the two of you were alone… 

he took a step forward and you took a step back instinctively, which only made him tense further

“it was for eunwoo is what you mean right..” the name leaves his mouth like it's toxic

 then softer, and somehow worse

"why the fuck is it always eunwoo—huh? you think pretty boy eunwoo is gonna really like these chocolates? did you really not know what these were? you think i believe you’re that naive?” 

he backed you up to the fridge

“taehyun no—i really didn’t-“ he scoffed walking closer to you “was it your goal to get him hard and horny huh?” he clicked his tongue “little slut wanting to drug him up? wanted him to fuck you senseless?” taehyun bit his bottom lip, chewing it between his teeth. laughing softly “cause i’m really horny right now and god it hurts so bad and i wouldn’t mind doing that” he groaned letting a sigh slip from his lips.

your back hit the fridge door. 

your eyes looked glossy.. mind hazy at the thought and you’d hate to admit but—the thought of it was turning you on more than you’d like to admit, thighs squeezing together 

"don't-don't look at me like i'm some freak. i didn't ask for this." he gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

the tent in his pants incredibly obvious right now. 

“god y/n i just wanna kiss you senseless” he leaned his head down to your neck, and you felt your pulse rise… the way he was sniffing you like an animal—the way you could tell he wasn’t using a single thought right now

“admit that you were a jerk for eating the chocolates” you mumbled looking at him.

 he groaned “y-y/n…you don't understand what it's doing to me, come on—you can’t get me horny like this" he whined “i can’t even think straight—everything is so hot and hazy and the only thing i can think about is you touching me” he swallowed

he whined his last few words, he was pressing onto you. and more than you’d like to admit… eunwoo was out the picture, you almost felt bad for taehyun—and thoughts of helping him seeped into your brain 

he took a deep breath, inhaling your scent "you smell like something i want to bite into, and god .. i can't stop thinking about your mouth on mine” 

you couldn’t breathe. 

you started feeling this rush in your blood, this urge to give into him… the more you tried to convince yourself that you really had no feelings for him the more you wanted to give in—your voice lowered into a whisper

"then why don't you?"

a pause. 

beat. 

stillness.

WHAT? you wondered why you even said such a thing—then he tore himself away from you like it physically hurt 

"because you didn't mean to give me those fucking chocolates," he said bitterly. biting his lip so hard you swore it was bleeding.

he stepped away. and for some reason you stood there, pressed against the fridge wishing he would’ve just taken you there. 

despite you repeating to yourself “he was a jerk—i could never blah blah blah-“ you were honestly starting to 

want to give into the urge of letting your impulses win… to forget about what happened.

you wouldn’t right? 

he hurt you but to be fair, although he did go through your stuff for eunwoo (and you honestly weren’t even that mad about) 

it’s not like you hadn’t purposely got into eunwoo to keep your mind off taehyun and get under his skin…

so somehow you convinced yourself to go to his room and apologize…at least try too—this wasn’t totally impulsive? 

won’t be wrong to go into his room right??

the walk down too his room felt excruciatingly dreadful the tension was so strong and admittedly you started feeling that tension pool in your stomach, you knew you should’ve left him alone but—you were greedy and somewhere deep in your heart you’d always wanted this 

taehyun was in his room, back leaned against his door—low sound leaves his throat, frustrated and helpless. 

he shouldn’t have did this, he’d never had aphrodisiacs before but he knew what it did. 

it physically built off of tension, it thrived off of friction

 he knew touching himself would make it worse but god…it hurt so badly and he thought maybe palming himself over his pants would stop the tension 

he gasped and whispered into the empty room…to the ache in his chest and lower

"fucking hell, m’gonna cum …."

he bit his lip to to hold in his moans. he cursed. again. his eyes fluttered shut

"what's h—hhhah—ppening to me” he groaned as he pressed down, this was a record… he was already about to cum after exactly thirty seconds of languidly, messily palming himself.  

god he was feeling so sensitive… and he did actually cum—mewling out on accident, the moans ripping through his throat—“hhahhh- s-shit shit m’cumming-“ he mumbled to himself barely holding himself up. 

he felt weak, shaky and to make things worse. it didn’t help at all, it only enhanced his urges more

taehyun never regularly jerked off—but he was feeling so needy and desperate he didn’t care anymore. fumbling to unbutton his pants—his movements pausing when he heard the knock on his door…

"taehyun?" your voice was quiet, guilty. "can i come in?"

he stiffens at the thought of you walking into a room so small with him 

"no"

"i—just-listen, i really didn't mean for that to happen, i came to say-"

"i said no"

it was silent…

you looked down at his door knob, he did tell no.. but it wouldn’t hurt to see if the door was locked—right

 you twisted the door open and to your surprise it wasn’t locked 

"taehyun? i know you're mad—and rightfully so—" you said quietly as you walked into the room, eyes widening at the sight of him leaning against his desk 

“y/n?!” he shouted “w-what are you doing i’m-“ he was still huffing heavy breaths out, his entire body flushed and damp from sweat.

“i-im trying to talk to you but you keep running off—! and you keep saying confusing things and—i just want to help..” you mumbled looking at the sight of him

you did really start to feel bad for him…he did looked really—really bad—but did you really want to help him or were you just being greedy again? (surprise you didn’t really wanna help him!!)

he spoke again-voice cracked broken

“y-y/n... stop” he whined “you don't get it” 

you stared at him, shaking your head ‘no’

he took slow steps towards you "i don't curse. i don't need to curse, because I'm supposed to be the smart one—the guy who keeps it together. but i'm losing it—every time i try to stop thinking about you, it just gets worse."

you gulped, the room feeling smaller and hotter. you should’ve nodded, walked out the room. 

you shouldn’t have even let yourself catch feelings for him. 

you shouldn’t have even agreed to let him share the apartment with you but you didn’t know when to stop hm? 

he stopped right in front of you, his gaze snaps to “It's like it's rewiring me, making me see you all—weird. i can’t tell if i’m horny because of the chocolate or just you…i hate you for what you do to me and all you ev-“ 

everything in your mind was telling you don’t do it but you couldn’t take it anymore, impulsively you pulled the collar of his shirt and smashed his lips onto yours—he gasped stumbling forward. it wasn’t long until his fingers latched onto your waist, his hands traveled swiftly—mapping out the expanse of your body. 

the kiss was messy to say the least, his tongue pushing past your lips. 

his brain completely shut off, finally letting the aphrodisiacs take control. his hands squeezed all over you, grabbed and pulling you to sit down on the bed.

the ache in his legs feeling more pronounced—something he couldn’t ignore now. 

hurting to be point he couldn’t help but press his hand against the bulge, gasping into your mouth once he felt the friction. hips pathetically rubbing against himself—bucking into his hand.

he broke away from the kiss with a high whiny moan, so spent from just touching himself over his pants, panting against your lips. eyes blown wide and glossy staring deep into you “hhahh—y/n can you pleeaase touch me? please-please-please?” he kissed down your neck with such urgency 

you were hesitant until you felt his hand guide yours onto his bulge. his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as his lips worked on your neck. 

his now free hands grabbing at every part of you while he humped into you like a feral dog in heat

he was kissing—biting—licking down your throat until he felt you squeeze him over his pants. and he’s pretty sure he had came just from the friction of that “hhhahh—d-don’t squeeze sssso hard” he whined.

 eyes shut tightly, head buried in your neck as his body slumped against yours. despite his whimpers he shamelessly started grinding against your hand, panting against your neck. 

with your hand rested right on top of his bulge you started to feel and notice (the very obvious!!) sticky wet patch forming on his pants from the amount of times he’s came—once you realized that… something in your brain flipped—sure you felt bad (to some degree) that he was so hard and horny but think of the possibilities!!

you could finally get back at him for all those times he’d made your life hell! 

and your brain started running with possibilities—but your hands moved faster—palming him again 

and the whimpers he let out were… 

sinful to say the least …

and you started to rub your thighs together faster. maybe getting too carried away at the thought ..

 “w-wait slow-slow! to hard—hahhh—i think i’m gonna c-cum-“ he stuttered, tears forming in the corner of his eye “its s’good—m’cumming!! c-cumming-!” he’d whine out for the fifth time, gasping air while bucking into your hand trying to get any more possible friction that he could use to ride out his high. 

“ahh- y/n ttthank you- thank you“ he said between puffs of air—leaning his forehead against yours—“i-iit hurt s’much” his eyes glossy with tears from how good it felt

and you almost started feeling bad…well clearly you didn’t feel that bad because shortly afterwards you made him beg to just get touched by you.

and he did it oh so willingly you would’ve forgot this was the same boy who acted like he was better than you daily

you started to push him back against the headboard of his bed “mm-what are you doing?” he spoke breathlessly—his back slumped and hair messily stuck to his forehead. his boba eyes staring up at you through his hair 

ignoring his question—you swung your legs over his hips—rocking your hips side to side as you straddled him. the quiet curses and whines didn’t go unnoticed 

you pulled down his sweatpants and his boxers in one go, his cock springing free. your mouth went dry at the sight…he was really really big—his member flushed and sticky from the amount of precum (and cum) he’d already let out… 

little spurts just spewing just from the cold air hitting the sensitive tip

and not to mention the faces he made…

pure ecstasy as his dick got impossibly more erect. his whimpers and moans muffled as he tried to swallow them in

the sight of him made you lick your lips because, as much as you hated to admit it… you’d been waiting for this day (well maybe not exactly this scenario) but! an opportunity to be control over him like this felt so powerful!!

you drug your finger up his base, one by one wrapping your fingers around him. 

you could feel his body trembling at the contact and the lewd sound he made when you started stroking was so erotic it could only make you rub your thighs together tighter

you slapped his member—emitting a loud moan from him “dd-don’t do this to me y/n” his words slurred. 

the sight of him, head thrown back, slumped on the bed was so pleasing. 

with that warm feeling pooling up in your stomach you couldn’t help but grind onto him as your hands stroked him. his eyes shot open and his hands flew you your waist, gripping onto you 

“ahhh! s-sshit! s-stop stop!” he begged  “it’s too s-ssensitive” he whined, but his body said another word. as it matched the pace you were grinding into him, mindlessly bucking up into you  

drool forming on the corner of his lips from how dumbed out he was

“so dirty” you huffed trying to control your breathy gasps “i bet you wanted to get horny like this mmhm? little whore knew what these were and you ate them so you could hard yeah? get touched? wanted to cum by me yeah?” 

he shook his head weakly barely forming a sentence “nnno—i sswear!—i-i didn’t know you- you’re the one who bought them—hahh—you wanted e-eunwoo horny” his moans getting more breathy as his body couldn’t help but cum again, his back arching. the tears from the corner of his eye started to fall down his face “ahh y/n” tears falling from his eye “ss-sso sensitive” his voice cracked—hands weakly gripping onto you to stop your movements.

you kept stroking him even after his orgasm, rubbing his mushroom tip—pushing your thumb into it…

squeezing his dick was enough to have his head thrown back, eyes rolling  as he spurt out ropes again crying about how great it felt 

you lifted up your now sticky hand up to his jaw, forcing him to look at you smashing your lips onto his. the kiss was a fight for dominance and control—you forced your tongue into his mouth, teeth clashing against yours

meanwhile taehyuns hands found its way under your shirt, groping at your breast from over your bra causing you to break away from the kiss for a moment 

“don’t fucking touch me” you breathed out earning a whine from taehyun “bbut i need something to hold” he swallowed. 

you didn’t bother replying, rolling your eyes at his response. “take this off” you mumbled fingers pulling at his shirt before connecting your lips back to his” hands planted on either side of his face 

taehyun would like to think he was about to gain a sliver of control for a moment but he felt himself getting hard again and he hated to admit the fact he was willingly letting himself think through his dick, so willingly to tear off his shirt for you 

once he took off his shirt, you rested your bare hands on his chest. bitting your bottom lip slightly at the feel of his  skin under your hands. feeling the goosebumps that flooded through his skin.

suddenly it started feeling a bit too good…it wouldn’t be that bad to indulge right? 

your lips planted onto his neck—then his collarbone, leaving bite marks on his skin. precum dribbling down his cock, he his hands shamelessly caressing your body. feeling you up squeezing your soft skin “hahh—yy/nnn c-can i suck your tits-?” he licked his lips, looking at your eyes like a begging child

you scoffed against his skin but then you thought about it… maybe you could indulge a little? he seemed eager anyways (honestly you were just as turned on as he was) 

so you nodded, you leaned back. he rushed to take off your shirt, then latching his lips onto your exposed skin. hands fumbling to unsnap your bra before he finally unhooked it,  eyes falling to your tits that fell out your bra “f-fuck you’re so pretty, the way they just fell out…” he bit his lip “can i touch them? like-like grab them?” 

he started grinding his hips against yours needing friction, his dick rubbing against your clothed core

“you don’t have explain it” you swallowed closing your eyes trying to gain and form of sanity back. “just do it..” you nodded giving him the permission. he wasted no time before he started squeezing at them “god- it’s so soft” he mumbled, 

his cock spurting little bits of creamy liquid out..

he was practically drooling when his mouth latched onto your nipple, the whine he let out as he sucked… his free hand squeezing and rolling your nipple in his fingers

as much as you tried to fight the small breathy whines and quiet moans fighting to leave your mouth—

you couldn’t help but let some escape as your back arched into his touch

your hands finding his hair, pulling at it lightly. “agh—taehyun-“ you moaned as his lips left one side to move to your other breast, kneading the one he finished working on with his hand. 

his drool falling all down your chest. 

you cupped his face before separating him from you chest, he whined at the loss of contact yet his hands still cupped your breast 

he was about to complain before you you pushed his swole lips onto yours, he completely melting into the kiss

you pushed him back against the headboard, hastily peeling your shorts and underwear off. underwear sticky from your arousal 

taehyun groaned, feeling dribbled of pre leak out of him. watching as your thumb swirled on his tip “a-are you gonna put it in?” he huffed out

“if you stop talking—then yeah maybe i will” you nodded as stroked him languidly 

he hummed which sounded more like a needy moan, you took a shaky breath before rubbing his tip against your folds, biting your lips to hold in your moans (which didn’t work as well as you thought)  

his head lolling back, as you rubbed against him. “—y/n m’gonna c-cum” he moaned 

“if you cum m’not letting you in” you said breathlessly—and he nearly cried because he had so many aphrodisiacs he couldn’t even stop it… his face flushing bright red as bits of cum spewed out “f-fuck that isn’t fair y/n i-i can’t” he whined…biting down on his lip “m’trying so hard” he mumbled 

god it was so cute watching him like this… you didn’t even bother preparing yourself for his length—you were just as hungry, no greedy as he was for you—you guided his tip to your entrance sinking down into him completely taking him all in, you and taehyun moaning in sync. the sudden sensation for taehyun and the burning stretch—filling your body with a burning fire that turned into delicious pleasure 

your hips grinding into him to settle in just before you lifted up—then slamming down onto him, causing his hands to hold you in place 

“w-wait m’still sensitive don’t move” he choked out—his body however moving on it’s own, bucking up into you… the quick friction making taehyun see stars  the new sensation of your gummy walls fluttering around him made his vision blurry

he moaned out as his creamy liquids filling you causing your walls to flutter around him “f-fuck!” he whined realizing what happened. he just came inside… tears started welling in his eyes as he started rambling “i-i can’t believe that happened—i-i’m so sorry s-shit” he spoke as his hips steadily rocked into yours his body craving that friction 

after recovering from the stretch and taehyuns premature cum you grabbed his jaw forcing him up “shut the fuck up” you snapped before lifting up and sinking down. enjoying a sweet moan from him

curse the aphrodisiacs making him so sensitive because the sudden stimulation on his cock causing him to drool “hahhh—i-it hurts-it hurts-it hhurts” he moaned as he lifted his hips up to match your thrusts 

“o-one minute it feels good and the next your ww-whining it hurts which one fucking is it?” you groaned feeling his tip push against you causing you to moan “s-shit y/n this is so crazy-“

he panted as his hips thrusted up into yours like a dog in heat “y/n it feels so good— f-fuck when i saw your name on the housing… i was hoping it was you” he moaned “wanted it to be you so bad”  he gasped feeling his orgasm nearing “wanted you to ride me like this” he whined 

your throat went dry at the thought—was this the chocolates speaking? 

was this because of the high he was nearing? 

you felt your stomach turn at the thought but you pushed it aside kissing his lips

his hands moving to roll your nipples between his fingers, feeling your high nearing—you rubbed your fingers over you sensitive bud—feeling the tight tension snap. your movements slowly as your cum spilled over his cock

taehyun already sensitive from his previous orgasms and the aphrodisiacs chased his orgasm, holding you hips and thrusting into you. following you shortly afterwards 

and he swore he saw stars 

his head falling back against the headboard as he came down from his high, his body buzzing from sensation—his eyes hazy

coming down from your high you, slid out of him—falling aside him, breath heavy as you looked up at the ceiling. 

taehyun completely spent, heavy breathes filling the room 

everything in your life was starting to change at that very moment 

because in your mind you were replaying everything that happened and now you were longing to hear him say those words again that he wanted to be roommates with you 

that he was hoping you were the same person he thought you were on the housing

-

taglist - @mercylvrrr @lovesickchoi @gildedsilk @boba-beom @lwhyuka @parkweylyn @bingsoob ty for wanting read!❤️

-

a/n : please please please reblog or comment if you liked~ also if you have any fic requests please send them my way!

[claramelooo]

CHECKMATE (15/20)

Hey, my boos!

We are getting at the final chapter....I know I know! Actually, I'm trying to write the perfect ending but my routine is so crazy! I'm thinking to stop for few days to organize it, and then, back.

Anyway! I'll let you know, okay?

Enjoy it!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warnings: angst.

Pairing: Governor! Agatha Harkness x Fem Reader

Summary: Agatha finds your behavior strange.

Skewer

noun

a tactic where a more valuable piece (like a king, queen, or rook) is attacked, and when it moves to defend itself, a less valuable piece behind it is exposed and can be captured. It's essentially the opposite of a pin, where the less valuable piece is in front.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee was the same. Strong, bitter, and persistent. Thanos loved making coffee. It was one of his small daily gestures, a ritual that seemed like affection.

“Do you have a meeting today?” He’d ask, still in expensive cotton pajamas, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

“I do, at the Chamber.”

Silence would follow, broken only by the soft clinking of a spoon against a mug.

“Don’t you think you’re getting too involved in all this? Politics is… dirty.”

She pretended not to hear, took a sip. “That’s exactly why.”

Thanos gave her a small, measured smile. The kind that always came before a perfectly crafted phrase.

“I just think it’s too much exposure. It changes people, Agatha.”

She smiled back. Because smiling was easier than arguing. Because he never yelled, never laid a hand on her. And yet, every word felt like an invisible clamp pinning down her wings.

Their house in the Hamptons was beautiful. Classic, quiet, and immaculate. She used to run her fingers along the golden frames in the hallway, where his diplomas were displayed.

Economics at Oxford. MBA at Yale—where he’d been her mentor during undergrad, and how they met—and a smaller frame with her name on it, from a speech she gave at Harvard.

A speech Thanos had read and rewritten three times before letting her take the stage.

“It’s not about censorship, love. It’s just a matter of tone. You tend to sound… aggressive when you talk about the system, and no one likes aggressive women.”

That night, Agatha didn’t sleep.

She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember when exactly she started being tamed. When she had been boxed up and commanded.

On their wedding anniversary, Thanos took her to a French restaurant, all candlelight and background piano.

A toast to love!

He gave her a gift: a pearl necklace. 

And she gave a speech. Polished and empty.

On the way home, in the car, Thanos placed his hand on her leg.

“See? When you want to, you know how to behave. Everyone loved you tonight.”

She never wore the necklace.

Years later, she could still remember the taste of that wine. The scent of his skin. The impenetrable silence that filled the house.

And how, on the outside, everything looked perfect. 

The businessman and his wife. The philanthropy. The meetings. The smiling photos at gala dinners with his investors.

And a woman slowly disappearing inside herself.

[...]

The bathroom mirror was fogged up, steam curling up the tiled walls. Agatha braced her hands on the cold marble sink. Her reflection looked younger today or maybe just more real.

Her body still pulsed with what had happened a few hours earlier.

The tight stall.The bass thumping through the walls. The taste of your kiss. The muffled moans against your neck.

She closed her eyes.

God, that had been wrong.

So wrong.

Inappropriate, reckless, impossible.

And yet...

She thought of you.

So young.

But it wasn’t just your age. You were movement, impulse. Raw, generous desire.

You gave yourself like someone who had never learned to hold back, like someone who hadn’t been broken into small enough pieces to fear pleasure yet.

And that… that destroyed her, because she wanted to break you.

Wasn’t it wrong?

Yes.

Of course it was.

But... maybe not that wrong.

What happened in that bed, in that stall, it wasn’t casual. You touched her with hunger, with reverence, with a kind of freedom Agatha thought she had buried under layers of power, fear, and duty.

Freedom.

The word echoed with a summer taste.

Being with you was like an unexpected breeze on a stifling afternoon. A light, cool, rebellious wind. The kind that enters without asking, slams windows, sends papers flying, and makes curtains flutter like freed ghosts.

You were that.

An impossible wind.

And Agatha…

She’d spent her whole life closing windows.

She sighed, bracing herself on the sink, and remembered the word:

Mommy.

You always called her that, like it meant nothing. Or maybe it did?

It didn’t matter.

Because the effect was immediate and consuming.

It wasn’t just erotic, no—although it was, searing and incandescent to her. It was what it said about how you saw her.

With surrender, with trust, and need.

Agatha shuddered.

She felt exposed, yes. But also… adored. As if, for one night, she’d stepped out of her armor, as if someone had seen something in her beyond strategy and control.

You saw her. Whole. And still… you wanted her.

You were so sweet you might have been naive. There was a wild insolence in you, a thirst that never apologized.

You wanted the world and you wanted her. Even with her contradictions, her sharpness, her fears and mistakes.

And for some reason... that didn’t scare her.

Not like it should.

You were intense, generous, unfiltered, and maybe— just maybe—The best thing that had happened to her in seventeen years.

She straightened slowly, running her fingers through the wet dark strands falling over her shoulders. The robe touched her skin with silent tenderness.

She took a deep breath.

Maybe she wasn’t the kind of woman who deserved love, maybe she wasn’t the kind who knew how to love, but for now… maybe she could allow herself.

After all, even the most powerful king was once just a pawn trying to cross the board.

When Agatha stepped out of the shower with her hair still damp, skin warm under the cotton robe, she didn’t expect to find the bed so quiet.

You were there, lying on your side, one knee bent, sleeping deeply on the messy sheets.

She stopped, just watched you.

You breathed slowly, long strands falling across your cheek. Moonlight slipped through the cracks in the curtain, sketching soft shapes across your face.

So young.

So confident. 

and yet… so, so reckless.

She sat down beside you but didn’t dare touch. She just stayed there, watching over you like someone guarding something precious and fleeting.

That night, she slept beside you without armor. 

And dreamed of freedom.

In the morning, the shift was obvious.

You woke up first. Spoke little, almost distant. Irritation shimmered in your eyes, even though you tried to hide it.

Agatha furrowed her brow, confused. But she slipped the armor back on and didn’t ask.

Like every dream, your days of peace had ended.

The car drove in silence back toward Seattle.

She gripped the wheel with one hand, the other resting on her thigh in anxious stillness.

You stared out the window. Silent, closed off and inaccessible.

“Is everything okay?” She asked in the gentlest tone she knew, though it still came out stiff, almost automatic.

You just nodded.

“You can drop me three blocks before campus.”

Just like this. Dry and unaffectionate.

“Alright.”

And when the car stopped, you murmured a thank-you far too soft to reach her fully.

She didn’t reply with words. Just nodded, feeling her heart crack with a silence so heavy it ached in her bones.

She shouldn’t be this shaken. It was just sex. Just youth —in the purest sense of the word. Just a detour in the middle of a war.

But why…

Why did it feel so wrong to leave you there?

Hours later, back at her house, the longing ached in the most unexpected corners of her body.

Where was her good girl? That one who smiled with her eyes and obeyed with her body?

Where had she gone?

“Mom?”

Nicky’s voice snapped her out of it.

She smiled, drained.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He walked in slowly, his eyes too perceptive for someone so young. He noticed the small suitcase and the fatigue on her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied too quickly. “I went to Oregon. Some company matters to sort out...”

Even to her own ears, the excuse sounded hollow.

She loved her son, with every cell in her body. But holding a real conversation with him—one that didn’t involve numbers, deadlines, or expectations—felt like trying to grasp something that always slipped through her fingers.

Still, she tried. As she always did, even if it was already too late.

She stepped closer and took his hands gently, as if trying to touch something that no longer belonged to her.

“Tell me, sweetheart… how are things? The SATs are coming up and—”

“Mom, please.”

He sighed, eyes shifting away—impatient, yes, but there was something else.

A deeper fatigue. 

An old disappointment.

“Can we, just this once, not talk about that?”

Agatha froze.

“About what…?”

“This. School. College. Career. How I always have to be perfect. How you only—”

He stopped himself, swallowing hard, like choosing between speaking and not hurting her.

“What is it, Nicky?” Her voice came out smaller, frightened. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just… sometimes it feels like you know me as a resume, not as a son.”

The words landed like a punch to the stomach.

He went on, calmer now, but cruel in his honesty.

“When I was little, we used to go to the park. You made picnics, you’d run with me. You laughed, mom!”

His eyes were shimmering with tears.

“Now I don’t even know what you like to do in your free time. I don’t even know if you have free time.”

Agatha felt her chest collapse inward.

“Sweetheart, I…”

What could she say?

That she was trying? That she’d spent years walking invisible tightropes just to keep everything running? That loving the right way always seemed to slip from her grasp?

He shook his head, disappointed.

“You keep asking what I want to be, but have you ever stopped to ask what you’ve become?”

Silence.

A brutal pause in time.

He let go of her hands with care. It wasn’t violent or cruel. It was just… final and that hurt more.

Agatha stood there, fingers still curled in empty air, as if she were still holding the five-year-old who used to run through fields with scraped knees and an easy smile.

But he was gone.

“I’m sorry…” she said, but he was already walking out the door.

And just like that, everything was loneliness again.

[...]

Dinner had been set for 7 PM sharp, but Agatha arrived at 7:10. Evanora had taught her well: Men should wait.

Tony Stark was already at the table of an upscale restaurant in downtown Seattle, a nearly untouched glass of white wine in front of him.

When he saw her, he smiled like an ad campaign — standing with the practiced charm of a seasoned flirt.

“Agatha Harkness,” he said, taking her hand as if she were rare porcelain. “You look stunning.”

She looked him dead in the eye, then withdrew her hand and casually wiped it on her dress.

“Spare me the bullshit, Tony. Let’s get to the point. Tell me what you want.”

She sat down without ceremony, crossing her legs with surgical precision.

He gave a low chuckle, settling into his seat with the smugness of a man who thought he was in control.

“What I want?” He twisted the ring on his finger, pretending to think. “I want you… submissive.”

Agatha laughed. It was loud, unexpected and a little terrifying.

“Submissive?” She repeated, leaning over the table, eyes gleaming. “Oh, Stark… how many years have you been dreaming about that?”

“Since you wore that blue pantsuit in the Senate. Almost gave me a heart attack.”

She smiled, but now it was pure ice.

“Shame it didn’t finish the job.”

Tony laughed, but there was a sharpness under the surface.

“No need to pretend you’re still some saint in heels. We’ve all sold something to get where we are. I’m just offering a better price.”

She leaned back in her chair, studying him like one would examine a dissected animal.

“You’re pathetic.”

He opened the black folder beside his plate with a theatrical snap.

“And you’re predictable.”

She saw them.

Photos.

Full color.

Too sharp. Too clear.

Her, at your dorm room door—that night when she couldn’t think of anything but you. You, stepping into her car wearing that purple sweater, still smelling like Cuir de Beluga—Agatha could still smell it. Your faces much too close to be professional.

She froze.

Tony turned the first image toward her and smiled like a snake.

“Didn’t know our golden woman had a thing for little girls.”

Agatha’s face remained impassive, but her hand gripped the glass so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“You’re bluffing.” She said quietly.

“Am I?”

He pushed more photos her way.

“You think the public will understand? A powerful fifty-year-old woman with a college girl in her lap? It all sounds very… nineties. And look…” he pointed at one photo. “this one’s right in front of her dorm. Underage or not, the headlines write themselves.”

Agatha didn’t respond immediately.

She took a deep breath and picked up one of the photos, examining it closely.

Tony seemed to savor the silence.

“You could end all this with a nod, Agatha. Be reasonable. Back my campaign. Step down with dignity, and maybe… I’ll offer you a role. Something symbolic. Decorative. Pretty. Like you.”

God, he was so repulsive.

Her stomach turned. The wine threatened to rise.

Agatha looked at him.

For a second, something in her face faltered. A muscle in her jaw, a tremble in her lower lip.

But she didn’t break.

Not there.

Agatha would never break in front of a man.

She gathered the photos one by one, each motion calculated and precise.

“Are you finished?” She asked, emotionless.

“For now.” He replied, smug.

She stood.

Her dress skirt was immaculate. Her posture, flawless. But there was a shadow in her eyes, a crack only the very observant would see.

Tony thought he’d won.

And maybe… for the first time in a long while, Agatha wasn’t sure he was wrong.

~*~

Can I kill Tony?

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqlz @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @milfovers4 @jaylie-bee @holystrangersalad @chlondykebar @natashashill @harknessshi @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @ahintofchaos @lowlyjelly @xblinkx2 @rmaximoff @loveshineslikethesky

[elodieunderglass]

I’ve been saying for years that TERFs are showing their utter lack of parenting with the bathrooms thing. (Nothing wrong with not having parenting experience. But I don’t care to take advice on “protecting children” from people who don’t actually manage any risks on children’s behalf.) each time they bang on about public bathrooms, it’s like: ah. You have genuinely never cared for children or thought about children’s needs in any way.

Public bathroom design, in the gender segregated sense, is actively hostile to children.

Quite apart from gender considerations, parents are often forced to use unisex wheelchair accessible stalls, which is fine, but makes them less accessible for wheelchair users, and contributes to the demand for unisex stalls. Why? Because children are small people who are usually accompanied by carers, often with a mobility aid, often needing assistance or wearing a nappy, and often have a sibling. Below the age of 3-ish, children are often in pushchairs/strollers. You cannot remove a baby from a pushchair and place it loosely on the floor of a public toilet while you are assisting your toddler. Instead, you and the pushchair/baby and the toddler are all accommodated in the wheelchair stall. That’s also where the changing table usually is.

In bathrooms where the changing table is thoughtlessly gender-locked to the womens’ room only, fuck yes you are going to see daddies changing nappies in the women’s room, and if that bothers anyone reading this, then shame on you. and to redeem yourself I hope that you write a stern letter to the mall, saying that you demand a changing table in all the bathrooms.

(The most obvious way in which public bathrooms are hostile to children are the electric hand dryers, which blast painful and distressing noise directly into the eardrums of short people whose hearing range is more sensitive than adults. But, you know, why design public spaces to protect children, or make them actually safe or comfortable…)

Sharing space is nothing new. Sharing bathrooms is nothing new. The reactionary outrage is so manufactured.

[calypsocolada]

LOSER HAS TO FALL | hero x

(this is part two! click here for part one!) synopsis: maybe the top hero isn't as bad at flirting as you previously thought... authors note: helllooooo! second and final part to this lil series. i think i'm gonna write some more sometime soon about other characters. mainly lin ling <3, old e-soul, queen???? we'll see. hope you guys enjoy this! it turned out a bit longer than I previously thought and i'm sure there could be another part but... idk. we'll see how this one does! enjoy!!! wc: 4.6k cw: spoilers!, fem reader, use of y/n, angst, slightly suggestive, super duper brief mention of sewerslide, not proofread forgive me

click here for my masterlist!

It’d been just over a week since you heard from your father. He’d meant what he said. He was a lot of things but he wasn’t a liar. And you didn’t bother trying to reason with him. He was done with you. 

He had said many times before he only had a place beside him if you were a winner. And you weren’t one anymore. You lost. Pretty damn hard and pretty damn publicly. So you were dropped from your father’s hero association and quickly, a little too quickly to not be calculated, replaced by the next up and comer. 

You on the other hand had actually managed to get signed rather quickly. All thanks to Queen, who had taken pity on you after seeing you sat in the parking lot of the stadium way past when the tournament ended. You’d never really been left on your own. Every single step of your life was puppeteered by your father. You didn’t exactly know how to stand on your own just yet. 

But nevertheless Queen brought you to DOS and after less than a three minute talk you were asked to join the agency. It startled you a bit. Seeing as you were conditioned to think people who lost gained nothing in return. But you were still the top third hero and apparently MIckey, the head of DOS, saw that as a great achievement. 

“Oh, and before you go, Winner?” Mickey called, your hand paused as you turned. Mickey was sitting back at his desk, his hand reaching for his coffee cup. “Our surveillance system wasn’t able to pick up you and Hero X’s conversation.” He starts, you furrow your brow, turning fully to face him. 

“Our conversation?”

“During the tournament.” He supplies. You slowly nod your head. “That man he’s… a mysterious one. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him even for a moment.” Mickey tries to laugh off his words but it’s too hollow, too stressed sounding. “I even visited his floor but… it’s vacant. I’m just curious… since he didn’t speak a single word to anyone else the entire tournament, before and after. But he spoke to you… seemed like he said a lot.” 

“Well he…” You cleared your throat, trying to recall the short conversation. “He mocked me mostly. Then he…” You stopped yourself. He had asked you to dinner and for some reason that embarrassed you. “Yeah… he just mocked me. My hero name.” You averted your eyes. You felt Mickey’s eyes burn into you, you forced yourself to meet his eyes. It was clear he only half believed you, which was fine because you were telling a half truth.

“That’s all?” He asked. You nodded your head. Mickey swallows, nodding head head. 

“Well alright then, welcome to DOS, Winner.”

And welcomed you were. And marketed to. Though this time around you had a lot more say in the kinds of sponsorships and brand deals you took. You had asked a few times to change your hero name but it was always met with a resounding ‘no’. 

“If you change it now, it’s like starting all over!” Mickey had said to you over the phone as you were chauffeured back to the hero tower. 

“What’s so wrong with starting over?” You asked and felt disheartened when you heard Mickey’s laugh over the line. 

“Winner is a beloved hero and a household name. Everyone knows Winner. Millions of people have put their trust in Winner. Winners in the top three leaderboard of heroes. You can’t start over now.” Mickey listened as your car pulled up and your door was opened. 

“It doesn’t feel like me.”

“What does? Winner is a persona… she isn’t supposed to be you.” Mickey says and you can hear the exasperation in his voice and that part of you that never really got out of the habits your father instilled in you rolled over. 

“Alright,” You conceded. “I won’t ask again.” You said, stepping out of the car into the blinding sun, you shielded your eyes as Mickey over the phone all but cheered.

“Good girl.” He hangs up the phone, that familiar click turning your blood hot. You shoved your phone in your pocket and strutted towards the elevator. It dinged, the white doors pulling apart as you stepped inside and let it carry you up to your floor. It slowed to a stop and pulled apart again as you stepped out, something shining and catching your attention. The familiar sound of a coin slicing through the air as it flips onto a hand. The doors to the elevator pulled shut behind you as your eyes met X’s. He leaned against your kitchen island looking exactly as he had the day he beat you. The same tailored suit, slicked back hair and shit eating grin, although he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“Busy day?” He asked nonchalantly, pocketing the coin he was fiddling with. You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He raised his brows slightly, tilting his head. “Well?” He encouraged. You cleared your throat, there was something about him. Something like a demand for your attention. 

“Yes. It was busy.” You said. X snapped, two glasses materializing in his hands. 

“Share a drink?” He asks. 

“I… don’t have any wine-” He snaps again and a bottle clatters on the top of your counter. He turns, reaching for the bottle, popping the cork and pouring you both a glass. You hesitantly make your way towards him. He slid your glass to your side of the kitchen island and raised his glass towards you. Your fingers slid around the cold glass, slowly raising it to meet his. His eyes caress your face as your glasses clink. 

“To signing to a new association.” He says, tilting the glass towards you before pulling it towards his lips. 

“How did you-”

“I know alot about you.” he interrupts. “Also it’s all over the news.” He adds as you pull your own glass to your lips. You two meet eyes, taking sips. The third floor of the hero tower had never felt smaller than in this moment.

“What’s… your deal?” You asked as X leaned back, gulping down his glass, snapping as it refills itself. 

“My deal?” He echoes your words, smirking at you. 

“Yes,” You affirmed, setting your glass down. “Your deal.”

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” He asks and you're glad you set your glass down because you probably would’ve sent it careening towards his head. 

“That implies that I even think about you.” You countered. X perked up at your words, he almost looked… thrilled at your sharp tone. 

“You don’t?” He asks, his voice… soft, almost lilting. You shook your head. 

“My boss does. He’s curious about the top hero.” You said, reaching for your glass again, taking a sip. X purses his lips slightly. 

“And you?” He asks, your eyes cut to his.

“And me?”

“Mhm.” He hums. “You're not the least bit curious about me?” If you could choose a hero name for this man, you would’ve gladly and quickly chosen shameless. 

“Who’re you? What’s your name?”

“X.” He answers simply. 

“You’ll call me by my real name but you won’t tell me your real name?” You asked. X took another long sip. 

“It’s better this way.” He shrugs. “Any other questions for me?”

“Why’re you here? In my home?”

“Well you know… you never answered me.” He runs his finger over the rim of his glass. 

“Hm?” You hummed before taking another sip of the wine. It was good wine, a familiar taste. 

“Dinner?” He grins over his glass. Your eyes cut to his again. Right… guess you never answered him. 

“No.” You said and X’s grin faltered for a moment before he smoothly recovered. 

“No? Just like that?” He dips his head, a strand of his hair falling in his face.

“Just like that.” You affirmed. X rose to his feet, he reached up, smoothing his hair back, he raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“I know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.” He smiles, the first genuine thing you’d seen from him. It was… actually a good look on him. He looked sly when he smirked. He looked down right handsome when he smiled. You walked him to the door, his hand reached out, clicking the elevator button as the cables came to life, pulling it up to your floor. The doors slide open and X steps in. 

“You know, I pegged you as someone who would barter just a bit for dinner.” You said, smirking yourself. X’s eyes snapped to yours. “I must not know you very well.” You waved, he parted his lips to speak just as the doors slid to a close. You stepped back, alone and overwhelmed. You… you had never flirted before. It wasn’t something you thought would come easy but… it came easy just now. It felt good to smile, to tease and argue with someone who didn’t anger easily. It was like he drew out a different side to you. A side of you that wasn’t marred down by lessons learned the hard way.

X sent over a thousand roses a week later. You came home from a mission, exhausted and staggering in pain and tripped up on them, almost sent sprawling on your tile flooring. You straightened, powers extending to hit the light switch. Every color rose imaginable littered the entirety of your apartment, every single surface had a vase with tens of roses inside. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as you winded your way through the apartment. Your landline rings, echoing through your apartment. You trip your way to the phone, yanking it up. 

“Am I pushing my luck?” X asks, you could hear the smirk in his voice. You swallowed hard, thinking about the clean up, about what the hell you were going to do with all these roses. 

“Twenty would have been too many.” You remarked. X laughed, his laugh was warm and amused. You heard his fingers snap and suddenly all but one rose was gone, right on the table next to the phone.

“Better?” He asked, as you reached for it, thinking the moment you got close enough it would disappear but you picked it up, turning it over in your hands. 

“I don’t understand your powers.” You said, tucking the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you walk the rose towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, no one does.” He says, his voice almost warm against your ear. You reach into the cupboard, grabbing a glass, half filling it with water.

“Tell me about them.” You say, placing the rose in the water. 

“You wanna know more about me? Let me take you out to dinner.”

“We’re back on that, huh?” You ask, feeling something warm spread through your body.

“Well, here I am… bartering for dinner.” He says and that warmth goes a bit hot. You swallow. 

“I don't get it. You’re an enigma. Everyones talking about you, about X. No one knows a damn thing, you don’t talk to anyone else in the association. What’s your fascination with me?” You ask, sliding onto the counter. It’s quiet for a moment. 

“You’re fascinating.” He answers simply, voice serious. 

“You never answer any of my questions.” You sigh, leaning back on your hand, looking back towards the skyline outside your apartment window. 

“I think… it’s pretty clear.”

“What?”

“My intentions, Y/n.” X says and your heart actually flips in your chest. You clear your throat. 

“Make them clear for me.” You say, voice soft. It’s quiet for another moment. What’re you getting yourself into?

“I want to take you on a date. I find you… alluring. Always have. I told you at the end of our fight I was a big fan.”

“Of Winner.” He was a fan of Winner, that wasn’t you. 

“No. Not the hero you pretend to be on commercials and tv shows. The one I see on the news smiling as she saves the day. The one that still introduces herself as if she’s not a top hero.” You swallow dryly at his words. Did he understand you? Was he seeing past the manufactured ‘you’?

“It’s… only polite to introduce yourself.” You covered, trying not to sound as affected as you felt. Even you didn’t entirely know who you were yet. There definitely still was a part of you, probably a part you could never entirely rid yourself of, that was still competitive. You wanted to be the top hero and you wanted that title to be something only you accomplished. To show your father you weren’t useless and still had worth.

“I have a feeling you're going to turn me down again.” X’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, you think it’s pretty obvious. 

“I want to be the top hero. I could’ve been the top hero.” You start, glancing over at the rose on your countertop. “I’m going to spend a lot of my time this year training up so I can wipe the floor with you at the next competition.”

“Ah. So it’s like that, huh?” He asks, that smirk coming back, you could practically see it. 

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“Y/n, are you thinking this declaration of war will deter me in any way? Because… Quite frankly, now I want that date with you more than anything. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Your brows shoot up in surprise. You were sure your words would put an end to the chase X was running.

“You’re insatiable.” You half laugh, half scoff in surprise. 

“Satiate me then. It’s one date.” He bartered quite well. When did just dinner turn into a date? And it was just one date. Something you’d never been on. Plus this could be your one and only chance to get actual answers about him. Everyone has a weakness, and you needed to find out what that was if you wanted a fair fight.

“Alright. One date.”

“Be ready in an hour.” X answered smoothly, you shot up. 

“Now?”

“Mhm. I’ll be there in an hour.” He hummed and the line went dead. You hopped off the counter and for an hour you rushed around. You took a shower and blow dried and styled your hair. You pulled on a dress that Queen let you borrow for a gala a few weeks ago and stopped in the kitchen, taking two shots to calm your nerves. Just as you set the shot glass down the elevator doors dinged and X stepped inside your apartment. 

“You didn’t give me much time, asshole.” You called out to him as he rounded the corner, he stopped in his tracks and so did you. He wasn’t wearing a white suit, nor did he have white hair. You didn’t know who this man was. “Who the hell-“

“It’s me.” He says, reaching up to push his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. He had clean black hair, pushed sideways out of his face, black rimmed glasses and a fitted black salaryman suit. He looked like an office job worker, someone that would bump into on the street in a hurry to get back to the office. You furrowed your brows. He snaps his fingers and in a blink of an eye the white suit materializes, his black hair smoothing into white. He snaps again and he’s back to normal. “Most hero’s need a disguise to hide behind.” He reaches up, running a hand through his black hair. You realized you hadn’t said a word and cleared your throat. “Oh no… did I lose my appeal?”

“So this is who you are?” You ask and his face softens slightly, he nods his head. “You’ll show me this but won’t tell me your real name.”

“I’ll save that for the second date.” He smirks and that smirk was enough to make you realize it really was him, the two could coexist in your mind purely by the way he smiled. You relax slightly, your creased brow calming. 

“I really don’t get you.” You said but your voice wasn’t sharp or annoyed.

“Figured maybe you had a thing for brunettes.” His words draw a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes. 

“I don’t know what my thing is.” 

“Well I hope you like sushi.” He raises his arm. You hadn’t even noticed he was holding a take out bag. 

“I thought you knew a place?”

“Mhm. Your place.” He smirks, crossing the floor to the kitchen island, ripping open the bag to start pulling out the food. “I wouldn't get a moment of peace with you out in the public.”

“Why's that?” You asked, crossing the floor to lean on the kitchen island, his hands, once smoothly removing the food, shakes a bit at your closeness. He clears his throat. 

“You’re a top hero… everyone will know you. Not to mention you’d be on a date… looking like that.” His eyes drag down your body then back up to your face. You glare at him. “Pushing my luck again?” You nod your head and he laughs, snapping as two glasses and a bottle of wine appear on the table. 

“If I had known we’d be staying in I wouldn’t have bothered with this dress.”

“I’m glad you bothered. And I’m glad I’m the only one to see you in it.”

“I wore it to a gala. A lot of people saw me in it.” You remarked, reaching for the wine but he’s quicker than you. He grabs it, pouring you a glass. 

“You hate being flirted with, don’t you?” He asks, pouring his own drink. You thought about that for a moment. It’s not that you didn’t like to be flirted with, it was more so there was still a part of you that hated that he beat you. And sometimes being antagonistic to his flirting seemed to be a small payback. You shrugged, taking a drink. 

“I wouldn’t say I hate it. Maybe you’re not as slick as you think.” You say and find yourself smirking into your glass. X cocks his head slightly, eyes devouring your expression. You flush under the scrutiny of his gaze and wonder if your words pushed him to try harder.

“See this is why I bartered for dinner. What other woman would tear me down at every given opportunity?” He asks, his face all amusement and light. You bite your lip, hiding a smile.

“I guess… maybe I am a bit mad at you.” You say as he starts dividing out the food.

“Why’s that?”

“You beat me.” You say and feel a bit out in the open at your response. You couldn’t hide the vulnerability and you’d never been good at keeping secrets and for some reason you felt disarmed by him. He showed a side of himself to you that no one else knew about. 

“I did.” He smirks and you glare at him. He laughs it off and reaches for his glass. “But that’s because you didn’t want to win for yourself, right? You wanted to win for your father.” Your mouth goes dry. “Look, it's not hard to see how hard he pushed you. When you first became a hero you were everywhere. In every tournament and talk show. You were in movies and on cereal boxes. Everyone knew who you were purely because of how much you worked. There’s not a single other hero, aside from Nice, that worked as hard as you. And we all know what happened to him.” That’s right. You remember seeing that on the news. The hero Nice killed himself because of the pressures placed on his shoulders. You remember your father laughing at the tv. Claiming not every hero can take the pressure. It made you angry. You pop some sushi into your mouth. 

“It… it wasn’t all bad.” You say, avoid eye contact. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if my father hadn’t pushed me.”

“Your father shoved you. Not pushed. And no one thinks about your father when they think about Winner. They just see you.”

“They see the persona he created.”

“Sure. He may have created Winner but what’s an empty persona without someone to fill it?” He asks. You swallow, slowly meeting his eyes. “Your success is yours alone. Your father never fought against villains or in tournaments. You did.” 

“You really do sound like a fan.” You try to lighten the moment, the tension between you two has gotten a bit thicker. 

“I’m a big fan. I already told you that.” He smiles. You blow out a laugh. “And if your heart is really in it, I think maybe you could beat me.” 

“I don’t know about that.” You laugh, gulping down the rest of your glass. “You snap your fingers and stuff appears like magic. You beat most everyone in the tournament in mere seconds. I could put up a fight but I don’t think I’ll win.” You say as X snaps his fingers and his other persona walks around the kitchen island to stand in your space. You turn, looking up at him.

“You wanna know my weakness?” He asks, somehow he was even closer. You swallowed dryly, tried to push down the heat rising within you, failing miserably as your cheeks warm up. You nod your head and watch a ghost of a smirk on his face form. He reaches for your hand, warmer than your own as he guides your hand to his chest, holding it right over his heart. “I’m still human. You pierce right here and that crown is yours.” Your heart skipped a beat, his hand enveloped yours, he towered over you. You couldn’t find words, your eyes were locked with his. There was so much confusion. Your head and heart were at war. Nothing winning over lust. Because you’d never met someone so invested in you. Not Winner. You. “Did I push my luck again?” He asked for final time. 

Your hand shot to his tie and yanked him down forcibly against your lips. He made a surprised grunt of a noise, probably due to your strength. Sometimes you forget the extent of your powers. X didn’t waste much time in reveling in surprise though, he recovered swiftly. His hands are on you in seconds, sliding down to your hips, pulling you closer.

This was a horrible idea. You’d be facing this man in a tournament for top hero. 

Your hand ran through, messing up his hair, the other sliding against his cheek as his hand reached out, knocking things off the counter out of the way as his arm wrapped around your hip. He easily pulled you up onto the counter, parting your knees with his hand as he stood between them, body pressed against yours. Your dress rode up dangerously high on your thighs, his hand sliding up your thigh.

You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to-

He trailed his lips away from your own, kissing down your jaw to your neck. You sucked in a breath. You felt as though someone set you on fire. You supposed it was X.

He wouldn’t even tell you his real name. He was trying to get into your head. This is how he’d win again. 

“God… you wreck me..” He murmured against your neck. Who knew four words could make any shred of doubt about this moment completely evaporate. That little voice in your head had shut right up. You melted against him, hands yanking his lips back onto your own. You kissed him hard enough to bruise because your frustrations had passed into lust and you had to one up him in some way. Your hand slid beneath the shoulders of his suit jacket and pushed it off. He didn’t protest and even smiled against your lips. You fumbled with his tie, huffing as you pulled away from his lips to get a better look at the damn thing as it gave you trouble. He raised a brow watching you struggle. 

“What the hell?” You mumbled, he didn’t take his hands off you to help. “What kind of knot is this?”

“The regular one.” He answered with an amused expression. You shot him a glare, letting go. 

“Take off your tie.” You demanded and at your tone his hands flew to his tie, unknotting it with sly ease. You took over, whipping it off him. You blew out a sharp breath. 

“This is a new side of you.” X said, voice breathy and you met his eyes. 

Sometimes you got frustrated and angry. When you worked for your father your frustrations were seen as a weakness and what anger you had, your father had a whole reserve of. So usually you were able to take it out on the training dummies or run around the gym until you collapsed. You weren’t entirely sure what was making you angry here. Maybe the lack of control, your feelings of inferiority against X. 

You close your eyes, shaking your head. He’d done nothing wrong that you could see and you were misplacing your frustration. This just wasn’t something you were ready for. 

“This isn’t going to work.” You said after a moment. X’s thumb gently moved against your thigh. You couldn’t get out of your own head about all of this. About whether he was using you. “What… do you have to gain from this?” You ask and X’s hands pause on your skin. 

“I have nothing to gain but your time.”

“Bullshit.” You scoff. 

“Not everyone’s out for blood.” He says, reaching up and tucking your hair gently behind your ear. You met his eyes. “I think we both want similar things, judging by the way you kissed me.” You flushed at the memory. “I’m at your mercy, Y/n. What you say goes.” 

“If you're using me to— to get something I’ll kill you.” X smiles at your words, he drags his thumb gently across your cheek and leans in. “I mean it-,” He cuts you off, pressing a kiss to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, trying to make you forget those pesky worries. 

“I’ve been warned.” He whispers against your mouth. You breathed out shakily, flexing your hands tightly to keep from yanking him on top of you. He slowly pulled back, eyes looking over your flushed face. His hands slid onto your hips, easing you off the counter. “Walk me to the door?” He asks.

“You… you can stay. We can eat.”

“I don’t think we’ll do much eating if I stay.” He answers, his eyes eating up your face. You slowly nod your head, quickly fixing your dress, leading him to the door. You ruined the night, you felt it deep in your bones. You weren’t ready so you ruined things. He reaches for the elevator button. 

“Sorry.” You intone, a few steps behind him. His hand pauses, he doesn’t press the button. You look guiltily at the ground. “I ruined the date.”

“You didn’t.” He laughs and your eyes shoot up to him. “On the contrary, I had fun. Can we do this again?”

“You’re joking.” You respond tonelessly, bordering on surprise. 

“Nope. I’ve fallen quite hard. I think I need another night like this with you.” You can’t help but blush. “I’ll call you.” He presses the button and it dings, the doors sliding open. He turns and meets your eyes. You walk a few steps to the door, hand shooting out to grab his tie once more. You pull him to your lips again, a silent confirmation that you wanted to do this again too. You pulled away and let go of his tie just as the doors slid closed. You wouldn’t say you fell because only losers fall, but… it was sure something close to it. 

[chleem]

You’re incredible at writing angst. Can i request something with drew being on the other side of unrequited love

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: OH? u mean, im the one madly in love with HIM? uh, yuh!

⋆.˚ Warnings: mentions of alcohol and smoking

pairings; actor/best friend drew x reader

word count: 2.4k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

He’s standing across the room. 

He hasn’t noticed you yet; too busy chatting off with his friends. 

And you- well, you notice everything. The way he tilts his head back when he laughs. The nervous way he runs his fingers through his hair when someone gives him a compliment. The damn jacket he always wears, the one that used to hang off your shared dorm chair. 

You’d memorize all of it as if it didn’t already live in your bones.

You’re one of his friends too- or at least, you used to be. Back when things were simpler. Before the world knew his name, before the interviews and spotlights that came with his rising career. 

You’ve fallen behind. Not out of anger or some dramatic fallout, but just... time, distance.

Now, standing in the corner of a mutual friend’s apartment, you’ve only just realized how full the room is, and yet, Drew is the only one you’ve truly noticed.

And suddenly, you're second-guessing everything.

The outfit you spent too long choosing now feels all wrong- too much or too little, you can’t decide. Your hair feels flat in places it shouldn’t be, your makeup too loud under the golden lights that strung along the ceiling. 

You feel overexposed in a room where no one is even looking.

You set your drink down on a side table and quietly slip away from the noise. The hallway is dim, quieter, and you step inside into the bathroom, once you reach it.

You close the door gently, twisting the lock until it clicks. 

Then, with a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you lower the toilet seat and sit down, your hands resting in your lap. Your purse sits on the counter, unopened, untouched.

The silence wraps around you like a second skin, and finally, your thoughts catch up to you.

Drew.

Well… at least, that’s how everyone knows him now. To the world, he’s Drew, the rising name in Hollywood. The charming lead in that new movie. The actor everyone’s talking about. The one with the ‘blue eyes’ that gets more press than most people’s careers.

But to you, he’s Joseph.

Joseph, your best friend since you were kids. Joseph, who shared his last granola bar with you in third grade. Who helped you sneak out of class in high school just to watch the sky change color from the football bleachers. Joseph, who sat next to you on the dorm floor your first week of college because you were crying and pretending you weren’t.

Your first crush.

Actually… still your crush, if you’re being honest with yourself. You’ve tried to call it a phase, tried to let it pass. You told yourself you were over it, over him.

But it seems like, you never were. 

If anything, the time spent apart just made you fall harder; occasionally scrolling onto his news. 

A knock breaks your thoughts. 

You blink, “Give me a sec!” you call out.

You stand, smoothing your dress with slightly trembling hands. You check your reflection quickly, fixing your hair.

Then, you unlock the door.

…And it’s him.

Joseph.

Has he grown taller? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the way he’s standing- so close to the doorway that he’s suddenly right in your space, towering over you. His frame fills the doorway, broad-shouldered and casual in that way only he could ever pull off. His jacket is half-zipped, his hair messier than usual, and those blue eyes shining down at you, mesmerizing and unfamiliar all at once.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

He laughs softly, head tilting. “Hey,” he says, “…did you wash your hands?”

You let out a nervous, breathy laugh, your heart bumping hard against your ribs. “Uh, yeah.”

“Yeah? Okay,” he laughs, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening with the smile.

You’re rooted in place, caught between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

Then, quietly, he confesses, “I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

“…yes.”

“Looking for me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I was just- ”

“I was looking for you,” he repeats, cutting you off.

He bites down on his lower lip, hesitation flickering across his face before his hand reaches out and rests gently on your elbow.

He signals for you to back up into the bathroom again. You obey, stepping inside until the door closes softly behind you.

He’s in this small space with you now, not even breaking eye contact as he locks the door.

“Needed a break anyway…” he murmurs under his breath, glancing around. You wrap your arms around yourself, a small, protective gesture. “Hey, you.”

It’s awkward in a way that feels familiar, almost comforting.

“Hi,” you say, offering a soft smile, hoping the blush warming your cheeks isn’t too obvious under the overhead light.

The whole bathroom smells like him now- like his cologne, subtle and expensive and painfully nostalgic. Along with the beers he might’ve been drinking. 

“You look great,” he says, eyes scanning your face with a kind of quiet sincerity that makes it hard to breathe.

“You don’t look so bad either,” you tease, trying for lightness, though you’re not sure if that’s still how he likes to play.

But he lets out a breathy laugh. The kind you remember, the kind you’ve missed.

“So, how’ve you been?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

You shrug slightly. “Just…still me.”

He nods slowly, “Great. Great to hear that.”

“What about you?”

“Same old.”

You giggle, “no.”

“No?”

“C’mon, I’ve seen your posters everywhere.”

He laughs, leaning back against the bathroom counter, “Yeah? Which ones?”

“Oh, the ones where you’re in bed with Daniel Craig, I guess.”

“Jealous?”

“Not at all,” you lie.

He laughs, deep-throated and low, the sound filling the tiny bathroom and cutting through the faint noise of music and conversation spilling in from the hallway.

“You got a cig?”

“…You smoke now?” you blink.

“Occasionally,”

“…No. I quit,” you murmur, stepping closer. You set your purse gently on the counter next to him. “But I’ve got one in here.”

He lets out a low chuckle, “that means you didn’t quit.”

“Shut up, Joseph,” you say with a smile, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from your purse, holding it out to him. He reaches for it. You pull it back, just out of his grasp. “Or should I call you Drew now?”

His blue eyes fix on yours, intense and unreadable.

“Everyone does,” then, without breaking eye contact, he takes the pack from your hand. “But you shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I like the way you say it.”

You let out a soft, surprised giggle, “what?”

He gently taps your arm, and you reach for the lighter inside your bag, fingers brushing against it, eyes never leaving his.

“Just don’t call me Drew,” he murmurs, pulling a cigarette from the pack and slipping it between his lips.

He cups one hand around the tip, nodding once. You flick the lighter on, and as the flame dances between you, your hand steadies just under his.

The cigarette lights, and he tilts his head back as he inhales. Great. Now it smells like cigarettes and Drew in here. You draw your hand away, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, starting up another conversation.

"So... you still with her?”

“'Her?'"

"Last time we talked- you were seeing someone.”

"Oh," he exhaled already; taking another puff. "No. We split.”

He says it so simply, like it wasn’t a slow-burning thing. like you hadn’t seen the way she used to look at him, like he hung constellations in her ceiling. Like he hadn’t once told you she made him want to be softer.

You nod, mostly to yourself.

“Sorry,” you say, even though you’re not sure you mean it.

He shrugs. “it was coming.”

Silence folds in between the two of you. The smoke coils lazily upward, staining the yellowed light. You don’t remember when it got so dim in here.

He glances over at you. “What- what about you?” 

You wonder if his blue eyes can see right through you- if he knows. You’ve had a crush on him for so long, it’s practically carved into you.

“Huh?”

“C’mon,” he says, almost teasing, “you have a boyfriend.”

You shake your head, “No. No one.”

“...still?”

You roll your eyes, but a smile betrays you. It tugs at the corner of your mouth, uninvited and unstoppable, especially when Drew laughs. That sound, familiar and careless- fills the room in a way that makes your chest tighten and your heart race. 

It hits somewhere deep, nostalgic and warm, like hearing a song you didn’t realize you missed. His laughter hasn’t changed; it still makes you feel seventeen again, and completely out of your depth.

When the moment fades, he turns toward you slightly and holds out the cigarette. 

Smoke curls upward between you as he says, “do it with me.”

You hesitate, “I quit, Joseph-”

“Have a breath,” he urges, a crooked smile playing at his lips. “I missed this.”

“We’ve never even smoked together-”

“I don’t mean the cigarette. I mean... this, talking to you, seeing you. Just... being in a space with you.”

He shifts, leaning in just enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

He’s close now, closer than he’s been in years, maybe. Close enough that it’s suddenly hard to focus on anything but the way he says your name, or the quiet guilt in his eyes when he adds, “I’m sorry I got busy.”

He holds out the cigarette again, “so here. Smoke, and do this stupid thing with me.”

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head as you reach for it.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” you murmur, bringing the cigarette to your lips.

You try not to concentrate on the fact that his mouth was just on it. But of course you do. Which means, in some ridiculous, secondhand kind of way… you’ve technically kissed. That thought alone sends a warm pulse down your spine. 

You're such a loser for still liking him.

You inhale, the smoke burning lightly in your throat, and exhale with practiced ease.

“You always do,” you add, the words trailing out with the smoke as you speak.

“Me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Remember in- ”

“I got you in trouble?”

“Freshman year. In the library?”

He pauses. “…that was your idea.”

You laugh softly, “Only because you told me to do it.”

“Oh, right. And our punishment was not seeing each other for a week? Including-”

“Including school,” you finish quietly, your voice a soft echo of the memory.

Younger you would be shocked that you managed to stay out-of-contact with Drew for several months; let alone one month. 

You bring the cigarette back to your lips, breathing in without really thinking, letting the smoke linger as you glance at him. 

You catch the way his throat tightens when he watches you. Then he looks down at the floor, fidgeting with his fingers in that way he always did when he was nervous or holding something in.

“Well,” he says finally, “I missed you, y/n.”

It’s not playful now. Not casual or joking. It’s sincere- quietly, achingly sincere.

And because it doesn’t feel right to say it too loudly, you whisper it back; “I missed you too, Joseph.”

He nods, still staring at the floor.

“I love you, Joseph,” you add. 

You don’t know why, but the flood of emotions rushes in all at once- fear, hope, longing. You’re afraid you might never get the courage to say these words again. Or maybe never at all, if he becomes too famous, too distant for you to reach.

But it’s the truth. You love him- with all your heart. You hope these words will reach out and touch something deep inside him. 

You want to be more than the friend who’s seen him through his worst nights. You want to be the one who stays. The one who sees him now; not just the past, not the one left behind.

You want to be his lover.

“I love you too, y/n,” 

he says softly, his voice warm but carrying a different weight. 

Before you can react, he pulls you into a hug. You find yourself pressed close between his legs as he leans against the bathroom counter, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

Your eyes widen as you lift your arms cautiously, careful not to burn him with the cigarette still in your hand. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, and despite everything- the distance, the unspoken things- you can’t help but grow comfortable under him.

“I love you more, Joseph,”

you whisper, so quiet you’re not sure he even hears.

Just before he pulls away, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, leaving a faint, warm stain, like a secret blush meant only for you.

Without hesitation, he lifts the cigarette from your fingers and brings it to his lips once more. Another quiet, shared kiss- this one burning faintly between you.

“Alright- you’ll call me?”

“...will you pick up?”

He puts the cigarette out, flicking it on the floor and stepping on it. “Of course.” 

He bends to pick up the unlit cigarette, tossing it casually into the trashcan. He stands and steadies himself, briefly touching your elbow. “You… you still got my number saved?”

“...Of course,”

“Okay,” he smiles down at you. “I saw that, um, the kitchen has some snacks-”

“…okay.”

“…okay. uh… hey, here,” he murmurs, nodding toward the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just, put your hand here.”

You blink at him, confused.

“So I don’t lose you out there,” he says, and you can hear it in the smirk tugging at his words.

You shake your head, suppressing a smile, and reach for your purse instead, as he unlocks the door.

You leave the bathroom together. 

But just then, a friend spots him from across the room and weaves through the small group, eager to pull him into conversation. Another follows, then a few more, all wanting a moment with him- the Drew they know, the Drew everyone admires.

They crowd around him quickly, voices overlapping, laughter rising, and suddenly you’re on the outside again. Close enough to hear his voice, to see his smile, but too far to reach the part of him you need.

Your chest tightens with a love so fierce it almost hurts. You love him more than words could hold, more than you’ve ever dared admit.

You want to tell him, to make him see, but the words stay locked inside, swallowed by the noise and the distance growing between you. And as he gets pulled away, surrounded by friends, you’re left with nothing but the ache of loving someone who might never love you back the same way.

And just like that, he’s surrounded. 

You stand there, close, but still so far.

-------------------------------

stop i actually got sad writing this

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