#Another man who transitioned later in life

[coochiequeens]

For a group that shouts how much they hate cops, men in dresses have no hesitancy to call the cops on women who hurt their gender feelz

By Jennifer Sieland March 9, 2024

British broadcaster India Willoughby is claiming that Northumbria Police have logged a “Non Crime Hate Incident” against Harry Potter creator JK Rowling after he reported the beloved author for “misgendering” him.

While Willoughby has long expressed his contempt of Rowling, having made hundreds of tweets about her gender critical statements over the years, the tension came to a head this week after Rowling stated that Willoughby did not “become a woman.”

On March 3, Rowling made a post in support of women’s single-sex spaces, which trans activists quickly clamored under to interrogate.

“Why should trans women be forced to use male spaces? Don’t you understand just how humiliating for us that would be? Or don’t you care?” one user questioned, to which Rowling replied: “Somebody really should have explained to you that your hurt feelings don’t trump other people’s rights, nor are women and girls validation props or comfort blankets.”

Another user, by the name of Socialist Stanley, then confronted Rowling with a gif of British broadcaster and trans activist India Willoughby, writing: “Hi Joanne, so you are saying this lady should use the men’s locker room then?!”

Rowling responded: “India didn’t become a woman. India is cosplaying a misogynistic male fantasy of what a woman is.”

Willoughby, born Jonathan, began claiming to be a woman in 2015 at the age of 50, officially becoming the UK’s first transgender newsreader. He has previously incited criticism for boasting of getting a “designer vagina,” which he said he chose from a catalogue like “going for a haircut.”

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By Natasha Biase March 8, 2024

An off-duty bartender has been convicted of a “hate” motivated crime after shoving and misgendering a trans-identified male in the washroom of a bar. On March 6, Cassandra McIntyre was found guilty of second-degree bias crime and harassment charges stemming from a 2022 confrontation with a man who identifies as a “woman.”

According to journalist Andy Ngo, McIntyre had just finished her shift at Jake’s Place, a sports bar in Portland, when she encountered far-left activist Riis Larsen, formerly Ronald A. Larsen, in the women’s washroom. Clearly startled, McIntyre told Larsen to “get out” of the intimate space.

Surveillance footage shows McIntyre lightly pushing Larsen, who identifies as a “queer demi-binary trans woman,” after he shoved another person to cut in line for the washroom. 

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[gayershakespeare]

Some fun things from RSC's 2025 Hamlet

It's set on a boat, and the stage tilts to mimic a boat, including the ending when the ship sinks and the stage tilts way up so actors slide off stage 'into the sea'. We'll come back to this later

Everyone else in the play talks like they're in a play. Hamlet talks like a person. To be more exact, a person who has a lot of feelings and is tripping over his own words to get them out. When the actor playing Hamlet first started talking, I genuinely thought he was corpsing for a few seconds

When he and Horatio first hug, it first feels like a typical friend hug, but then it lasts just a little longer, and Horatio moves one hand from Hamlet's back to cradle his head

There are people dancing during the first couple of scene transitions (until the boat is in trouble and they run around with life jackets on), and in one instance, Horatio dances with another man

Now would be a good time to mention that this whole production takes place over ONE EVENING. It's set at Claudius' coronation/wedding to Gertrude, and the time of night flashes up before each scene. The play starts around 9PM and ends at 1AM.

Now, this, of course, begs several questions like: How were Rosencrantz and Guildenstern summoned so fast? How did Laertes get back so fast? And the answer seems to be: Don't worry about it :) We're working off OFMD boat logic here

Speaking of Rosie and Gil: They're American, and I kind of love that for them. I love it when productions 'other' them in some way, to make them feel out of place. TBH, there were times it felt like THIS was the 'Hamlet' that 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead' takes place in. Which leads me to

The players. The head player is the same actor who plays the ghost of Hamlet's father, and this is acknowledged in play! When Hamlet sees him for the first time, he screams! Then desperately tries to cover for himself

Hamlet barks at people. Literally barks and growls like a dog. Love that for him

He also walks around barefoot for most of the play

They moved 'To Be or Not To Be' to the end of Act One, which cuts off right before Hamlet goes to (not) murder Claudius.

There's a lot more to say, but this is already a really long post, so I'll end with: As the ship is sinking, and the stage is titled way upright, and everyone except Hamlet, Horatio, and the body of Claudius have fallen into the sea, Horatio clings to Hamlet with his arms around him, and Hamlet pries himself from Horatio's hold, stands up and walks down the ship towards the sea

[sl-ut]

darlin’

pairing: timothy ratliff x fem!younger!reader

description: a trip to thailand is supposed to be a chance for some bonding between his three mostly-grown children and his new wife. however, that seems to be a much bigger ask than he initially anticipated.

warnings: smut, unedited (i wrote this in one sitting lol), follows the plot of ep 1 (not to the t), swearing, age gap, mentioned infidelity (both timothy and his ex-wife), reader gets called a slut once, the kids don’t like her, creepy stepsons, drinking, a really really bad attempt at southern slang sorry sorry sorry

words: 5.5K

date posted: 25/02/25

@graciesbow enjoy girl <3

Timothy had anticipated the sort of reaction he would receive from the general public when he made the choice to propose to his girlfriend, and even more so when it came to his own children. She was, of course, nearly twenty years younger than him, only three years older than his eldest child, and to make matters worse, she was also his former assistant. 

It came as quite the shock to some, and not at all to some others. He and his wife had not gotten along in years, only truly getting along during their occasional period of nostalgia-induced affection that occurred after each of their children’s major accomplishments, though those became fewer and farther between as they each got older. He wasn’t sure who had strayed from their marriage first, but he’d found out about his wife’s affair a month into his own, though he said nothing out of a selfish desire to protect his younger lover from public scrutiny. A few months later, his wife had come to him in a blinded rage, throwing a tiny piece of lacy cloth at his chest, an item he hadn’t needed to look at to know what it was. He didn’t feel ashamed at that moment, nor did he feel any sort of alarm at the attack as she screamed and cried at him. 

How could you do this to me? I knew it–I knew you were fucking your slut of an assistant for months now, but to bring her fucking underwear home? Have you no respect for me as your wife?

The words rolled off of his back easily, and he felt calmer than ever before. While his wife paced the floor before him, wailing about his infidelity and the pain he was bringing upon their family, all he saw was opportunity; finally the right time to leave his wife, a fresh start with someone newer, younger, who looked at him like he hung the stars in the night sky and had genuine interest in him, not just the security that came with being his wife. Plus, any regret or guilt that he ever may have felt had been melted away the moment that he discovered that his wife had also been unfaithful, potentially before even he had. She seemed surprised when he brought it up, but at least it made her stop screaming. 

Her questions then turned to, how long have you known? Why haven’t you said anything? What are you going to do?

The conclusion was simple: he moved into a penthouse condo by the end of the week, found a lawyer willing enough to take a few extra stacks of cash under the table to speed up the process of his divorce, and signed the papers. He allowed her to stay in the house with Lochlan until he was graduated and moved away for college, then she would need to find a new place to stay that she could afford on her own, with the help of her spousal support, of course (though, he was certain that she would weasel her way into the life of another man just as wealthy but not quite as stern as he was). 

The world seemed to be a brighter place when he woke up that very first morning in his condo with his lover curled into his side, nowhere else to be and no other life to go rushing back to. The transition was sudden and certainly not entirely helpful for his relationship with his children, but he knew that they wouldn’t stay mad at him for too long considering that they all knew fully well that their mother had been equally as unfaithful, only she had broken things off with her own lover after the divorce while he had his own move in. 

She needed to quit her job, of course, which Timothy assured her that she would be completely taken care of until she found a new job (though, he was attempting to convince her to stop working altogether). He was sore about having to find a new assistant, but hired a young man who was eager to schmooze his way up the corporate ladder only two days after her resignation, but it was all worth it when he was able to slide a heavy diamond-clad band onto her finger only a year later. 

The wedding had been small, only a handful of people from both of their families and a few close friends followed by a three week long honeymoon at the White Lotus resort in Sicily. He’d been happy to see his daughter Piper accept a position in the bridal party, though she was still quite cold to her new stepmother-to-be behind closed doors. His new wife had been cautious about integrating herself into her step children's lives, and though they were all very standoffish, she was able to find a soft spot within each of them, 

Piper kept a tight upper lip, seemingly finding very few qualities in her stepmother that were worthy of her attention, but was easily tricked into conversation about her studies in university. Lochlan was easier to handle, her greatest hindrance in getting to know him being his more reserved nature, though, like his sister, he too felt an obligatory loyalty to his mother and often steered clear of his father’s new wife. The eldest of the three, Saxon, was the exact opposite of his younger siblings. In fact, she had a harder time steering clear of him than she did getting through to the others. He was close to her age, endlessly spoiled, and outrageously horny, finding little problem in his father’s affair and even less so once he and his siblings had begun spending more time with their father and his new wife.

Timothy Ratliff was the kind of man who would do just about anything for the ones he loved. For his wife, he would move mountains, buy her the finest jewellery, or live out the rest of his days in a shack in the woods. For his children, he would ensure that they always had the newest and finest of tech, no material desire left unmet, always finding a way to allow them to grow and succeed as much as they possibly could. It burned him to see his family so divided–he knew his children might never fully come to terms with the way that their parents had separated, but he hoped that, in time, they would come to accept his wife into their lives. 

So, when Piper told him about her thesis on Buddhism, he of course saw an immediate solution to his problem and booked the trip to Thailand with little other thought. The excitement that radiated through each of their faces when he announced the vacation over an intimate family dinner, giving each of them just enough time to make arrangements for their absence and pack their bags. 

The travel in itself had taken more than a full day, and though he had afforded each of them a seat in first class, it was beyond draining, but their arrival in Thailand seemed to make it all worth it. After hours on end on an airplane, the boat ride to their resort was little more than a dream, aside from the fact that Timothy had been silently cursing about the fucking asshole who had also been aboard, poisoning their precious air with his cigarettes and rotten breath, as he had put it while his wife only laughed and ran her hand over his bicep while she calmed him down.

“Maybe Thailand was the right choice,” she joked, freshly manicured fingers curling around the collar of his blue linen shirt. A smirk crossed her lips as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “It’s like, the relaxation capital of the world. Maybe we could book a couples massage, maybe see what other treatments they offer?”

He scoffed, “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here, darlin’. I’m just hoping that we can all find a little more peace here, now for you, that might be massages and facials and such, but me? I’m looking at a little slice of peace right now.”

She slapped her palm gently to his chest, watching in admiration as he lifted her hand, admiring the glint of sunlight radiating from the large diamond on her finger before pressing a kiss to the stone, “Timothy Ratliff, you big old softy.”

“Now don’t go spreading that around town, you hear?”

She laughed, pushing herself away from him and off of the bench they’d been sitting on, “I’m going to grab a water. Don’t miss me too much.”

She met the watchful gaze of her stepdaughter on her way to the large cooler of bottled water just inside the cabin, taking four bottles out and redirecting her path towards the three young people huddled together. 

“Hey guys,” she grinned at them, holding onto her attitude with an iron grip as she received little reaction from any of them, aside from the eldest of the three, who slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to give her a once over, “What do you guys think so far? It’s nice, huh?”

Lochlan glanced at his siblings for some kind of reassurance, though he found none, “Yeah, it’s… nice.”

“Oh yeah,” Saxon added, his eyes trailing every inch of bare skin on his stepmother’s body, following the low neckline of her sundress, “just can’t get over this view.”

It took every ounce of strength in her body to stop herself from cringing away from his intense stare. She was still uncertain as to how he had been raised by a man who never made her feel anything less than loved and appreciated, but always assumed that his attraction to her was either some sort of childish vendetta against his father or a sign of deep-rooted mommy issues. She’d never actually spoken to Victoria one-on-one, and certainly never long enough to grasp any sort of understanding of her relationship with her children. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s pretty great,” she brushed it off, raising the water bottles into the air, “I grabbed you guys some water though. I know it can get warm back home, but make sure you guys stay hydrated. The last thing I want is to see one of you guys with heat stroke or something.”

Both boys took a bottle, Lochlan offering her a weak thanks while Saxon simply popped the cap off and took a long sip. Piper, however, turned her head away without a word, as if the words that had been spoken were nothing more than a whistle in the wind. 

She took a step back, doing her best to not look so hurt by the blatant rejection. Offering the boys a soft smile, she turned and made her way back to her husband, who gladly took the water that his daughter had refused. 

“Now wasn’t that sweet?” He cooed, curling his arm around her shoulder and dropping a kiss to the side of her head, “I think you’re starting to wear them down. Pip

er will come around eventually, just an adjustment, s’all.” 

“You think?” She settled into his side, “I just…I don’t want them to think that I’m trying to replace their mother or anything, but I wish they would see that we can all just get along. I don’t need them to love me, but is it too much to ask for them to like me?”

Timothy was silent for a moment, “If it’s any consolation, Saxon likes you–a little too much, I’d say, but it’s better than nothing. Lochlan’s shy at heart, but he’s already coming around, and Piper, well, I think you two just need to spend a little girl time together. Say, why don’t you take her to do all that spa stuff? You’d probably have a better time with her anyway.”

She scoffed, “You can just say no if you don’t want to go. Besides, I don’t want to take up any of her time when she’s working on her thesis. I know how important it is for her.”

“Jesus, darlin’, I don’t know how you do it,” she stared up at him in confusion, “You just always know exactly what to say to make me fall even more in love with you. You and that big stinkin’ heart of yours.”

She glanced over her shoulder to hide the love-stricken expression that crossed her features, finding that the land had grown incredibly close, a long wooden dock supporting a string of overly enthused hotel employees, all waving at the oncoming flux of visitors as the boat finally docked. 

The five Ratliffs trailed behind their guide as she led them through a wooded path to their villa, a large structure that seemed to be primarily made of large glass panels, which she may have opposed if it had not been so hidden away in the tall palms. She was glad to find that she and her husband would be taking the master suite, which was a fair distance from both of the other bedrooms and allowed them some privacy–if she was going to be fighting for the respect of her stepchildren while on vacation, she was at least going to need some undisturbed alone time with her husband. 

Their guide finished giving them a quick rundown, crushing the dreams of the two younger males when they discovered that, not only was there no wifi, but their devices were not to be used outside of their private villa. She knew that Timothy would find this hard to deal with, considering his line of work, but she had no issues tucking her phone away in her suitcase for most of the trip, aside from taking the occasional sunset photo. 

“Oh come on, guys,” she groaned, shaking Lochlan’s shoulder teasingly, “live in the moment. I think it would be good for all of us to lay off the tech for a little while, don’t you?”

A pink tint bit at Lochlan’s cheeks at the unexpected affection, “Uh, yeah maybe.”

“If I put my phone in the bag, does that mean you’re gonna keep me entertained all week?” Saxon smirked at her, ignoring the groan of disgust from his sister; it just wasn’t enough for him to make a point about Piper and her genitals being fully grown, he seemed hellbent on hitting on their stepmother too. 

Their father ignored his son, as he so often forced himself to, “We’ll be keeping the phones, Pam.”

She rolled her eyes at her husband, moving instead to watch the rolling tide against the shore just below their private deck. When their guide, Pam, finally finished her speel and removed herself from the villa, removed herself from her stepchildren, moving upstairs to do some unpacking and rinse off the uncomfortable layer of sweat that twenty-seven hours of travel had brought on, sighing in relief as she felt herself relax under the warm spray for only a moment before she slipped out, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel and stepping out into the grand master bedroom. 

She smiled to herself at the sight of her husband lounging on the bed, staring down at his phone with a furrowed brow, “What are my chances of stealing you away from that phone for a little while?”

He spared her a sideways glance, “Sorry, sweetheart, just gotta finish something up this afternoon and then I’m all yours.”

“Alright,” she sighed dramatically, “but I’m holding you to that.”

“I know you will.”

She caught his eye as she dropped her towel to the floor, stepping out of it to reach for the bikini she had laid out for herself on the bed, slowly and teasingly sliding the garments onto her body before reaching for the bottle of lotion on her bedside. He watched her silently, blue eyes trailing over the length of her body as she massaged the lotion into her freshly-washed skin. He let out a small sigh of discontent as she wiggled a short blue floral dress over her body and turned back to him with a knowing smile before perching on the edge of the bed next to him.

“I’m gonna go take a nap by the pool. If you finish whatever this is soon enough, I would love for you to join me.”

He set his phone aside for a moment, his palm coming up to cup the underside of her jaw and draw her closer for a kiss, holding her face in place as he easily asserted his dominance over her. She pulled away before it could deepen any further, pressing one more short kiss to his cheek before forcing herself to stand up and put some distance between them. 

“Finish that work,” she pointed a stern finger at him, “like I said, I intend to have you all to myself tonight. No work, no kids, no distractions.”

He scoffed a laugh at her, waving his phone at her dramatically as she turned and fled the room, “Yes ma’am.”

A nap by the pool was so much easier said than done. Perhaps for others, the tranquility of the resort would sooth them straight to sleep, especially after so much travelling, but she had become hyper aware of the intense gazes burning into her exposed flesh as she stretched out on a lounger. Both of her stepsons were on the opposite side of the pool, both watching her with intrigue. She often feared the fact that Lochy was so impressionable, especially by his older siblings. Piper, at least, was more level headed than her elder brother, but regardless, she hoped he was able to form his own opinions without their intervention, and she especially hoped that he did not turn his sights on her as Saxon had, but the way that they both stared at her made her uncertain of that.

She was equally as disgruntled as she was glad when Saxon turned his attention to some of the other women lounging on the pool deck, but at least she was finally able to rest. She was unsure as to how long she’d actually slept for, only that when she woke up, her husband had taken a seat on the edge of her lounge chair, gently shaking her awake.

“Sleep any longer and you’ll miss dinner, sweetheart,” he chuckled as she stretched her arms above her head dramatically, “and what was that promise you made? Something about having me all to yourself?”

She smiled sleepily at him, sliding her sunglasses up to rest on her head, “Yeah, yeah, I know what I said.”

The couple stared at each other lovingly for a beat, fingers tangling together over her bare stomach as she spoke again, “Did you finish your work?”

He hummed in response, “Sure did, but I’ll admit I may have had an ulterior motive.”

“Oh yeah?” She smirked, “and what was that?”

“Strangest thing, actually,” he smoothed his hand over his mouth and chin as he fought off a sly grin, “there was this woman, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite so beautiful.” 

“So what are you doing here then?”

“Well that’s the thing, she told me she’d be here, and I swear you look so much like her it’s almost hard to believe,” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice, “only difference is, she was naked.”

She lifted her foot and nudged it against his side, laughing coyly at him, “Well, I would never.”

“Oh no? Cause I coulda swore–”

“Can you two be done being gross now?” Piper’s voice cut through their interaction like a warm knife through butter, “this is a public place, you know.”

Timothy sighed, “Yes, darlin’. Just came down to make sure everyone got ready for dinner in time.”

The younger woman scoffed, turning on her heel and marching back to the villa, not caring whether they were following her or not. 

Dinner went by with just as many turns and twists as usual, each of the children giving their father a reason to stress, while he reciprocated with semi-impossible standards and tough love. Timothy was genuinely glad to return to the villa that night, even after receiving some strange call from the Wall Street Journal. He’d returned in time to avoid his wife’s extensive bedtime routine in the bathroom, slipping in to take care of his own just as she exited and climbing into the plush king-sized bed in his pyjamas as quickly as he could, grabbing the book off of his nightstand. 

“Doesn’t this place just remind you of our honeymoon?” She called from within the walk-in closet, “I think we’ll just have to make an effort to visit all of the White Lotuses. I hear the one in Hawaii is nice.”

He chuckled, eyes fixed on his book, “Our first night in Thailand and you’re already planning a trip to Hawaii next.” 

“I can alway go with someone else if you don’t want to,” she mused, appearing in the doorway of the closet and leaning against the doorframe, “but it would feel like an endless honeymoon, don’t you think?”

“Why don’t we focus on getting through one vacation at a time, huh? Then we can talk about going to–” his breath caught in his throat as he finally tore his gaze from his book to where his wife was posed in the doorway, donning a loose-fitted lacy nightgown, the floral pattern revealing glimpses of her bare flesh underneath, “well, now what’s this?”

“Took you long enough,” she shrugged, “thought I’d have to claw that book out of your hands.”

He watched her closely as she crossed the room, crawling across the bed to straddle his lap and pluck the novel from his hand, tossing it on the nightstand haphazardly. Timothy sighed at her, hands coming to rest on her hips as her own hands smoothed over his shoulders and curled around the back of his neck, “You could’ve at least let me save my place, darling.”

She raised a brow at him, “Oh, my bad. Let me just grab it for you–”

His fingers tightened around her hips as she attempted to reach for the book, pulling her back into his lap firmly, the lacy fabric of her nightgown bunching at her hips, “Now don’t make me pin you down, darlin’.”

She shook her head, pressing kisses up the column of his throat, “Nuh-uh. I’m taking care of you tonight.”

He pulled back for a moment, “You sure, sweetheart? I know we’re both pretty tired, you don’t gotta–”

“Are you telling me that you don’t wanna?” She muttered as she dropped her hips down to press herself against the growing tent beneath the sheets.

He grunted, “Now you know I will always want to with you, but–”

“So then you just need to lay back, relax, and shut that big mouth of yours.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She smirked at him, lifting her hand to carefully pluck his reading glasses off of the bridge of his nose and setting them on the nightstand, then finally leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, breathless kiss. He groaned into her mouth as she easily slid her tongue along his own, creating a familiar rhythm that they’d gotten down within their first few nights together. They were so in sync with one another, easily melting into one another’s embrace, sliding her hands underneath the thin fabric of his white cotton t-shirt and over his soft, muscular torso. 

“You are wearing way too many clothes,” she spoke against his lips, breaking away to slip his shirt over his head. 

“I was just thinking the same thing,” he murmured, pushing the lacy material up her sides, watching as every inch of her bare skin revealed itself to him, breasts bouncing as they were released from the soft cups of the dress and leaving her in only a matching lacy thong. 

His mouth dropped to suck one of her pert nipples into his mouth, tongue rolling over the sensitive nub greedily. She sighed at his touch, head lolling back and spine arching closer to him as he swapped over to the opposite breast. 

“Tim,” she gasped, “hey, this is supposed to be me taking care of you. How is it you always do this to me?”

“Guess I’m just too charming for you to hold your own.”

“Yeah, okay,” she chuckled, “now shut up. I mean it this time.”

She pushed herself away from him, crawling back just enough to pull the sheets and his pyjama pants down his thighs, watching gleefully as his hardening member rose to slap against his belly. When she had finally cleared the way, she moved to lay on her belly between his thighs, fingers curling around his thick cock and giving it a gentle squeeze, grinning at the sound of his breath catching. Holding his gaze, she leaned in, tongue gingerly tracing the leaking slit and humming at the salty taste of his arousal. At the sound of his first true moan of pleasure, she finally took him into her mouth, guiding his member into her mouth until his tip prodded at the back of her throat.

“Just like that, baby,” he let his head fall back to rest against the headboard while his fingers curled into her hair, gently guiding her movements as she began to bob her head along enthusiastically, small grunts and choking noises escaping her each time that he bottomed out inside of her. “Always so good for me.”

He allowed her to take over, keeping his hands in her hair as a reminder of exactly who was in charge while giving her the freedom to move as she saw fit. Perhaps she was right, maybe he did need to relax, and if this was how he could do that then she would not hear any more arguments from him. 

Finally, he pulled her up and off of him, a deep chuckle rumbling through his chest as she whined defiantly, “As much as I’m enjoying this, there’s something else I’d rather enjoy so much more.”

She giggled as he manhandled her across the bed until she was pressed to the mattress on her back, her husband hovering over her as his fingers teased over her barely covered cunt. She gasped at his touch, wiggling her hips eagerly to help him slide the lacy material down her legs, leaving her completely bare to him. He kissed her quickly on the lips, moving down her body to return the favour when her grasp tightened around him. 

“Nuh-uh,” she whispered between the kisses she trailed across his neck, “I am so, so, so ready.”

He raised a brow at her, chuckling as he ran his fingers through her folds, finding her soaked, “My goodness, darlin’. Have I kept you waiting like this all day?”

“Mhm,” she laughed, pulling him up to almost entirely cover her body with his own, legs wrapping around his waist as she rocked against him, a melodic sigh falling from her parted lips as his thick tip caught against her clit, swollen with anticipation. “Fuck, Tim. Are you gonna put it in or not?”

His palm tapped against her cheek in a mock slap, never willing to truly hurt her but just hard enough to put her in her place, “Patience is a virtue, my love.”

Her ankles hooked together just beneath his bum, using the strength of her calves to pull him impossibly closer. The defiant glint in her eyes quickly melted away into one of desperation as the moments slipped by, gasps of anticipation and annoyance as he continued to move against her, carefully prodding against her entrance before sliding upwards to her clit before he could fully slide into her warmth. 

“Patience,” she scoffed, her indignation growing with every moment as she stared up at his proud face, “I think I’ve been patient enoug–oh!”

He finally pushed his hips forward, sinking into her warmth until their hips were flush together. His head dropped to her shoulder with a groan, stilling as his tip pressed so deeply inside of her, easily finding that spongy spot inside of her that made her head spin and her limbs feel like jelly, though the pause was more a chance for him to collect himself rather than to allow her to adjust, but neither of them really addressed it. Her long nails traced up and down the length of his back, calming his nerves as he began ministering slow rolls of his hips.

She whimpered, thighs clenching around his hips, “Fuck, you feel so good baby.”

“Yeah?” he panted, finally pulling back to meet her lips in a soft, breathy kiss as his movements quickened, “Just like that?”

Her nails sunk into the muscles of his back, “Oh yes, right there.”

Timothy bent his neck, a somewhat uncomfortable angle for him as he moved back and forth between her breasts, offering each just as much attention as the other while his movements turned into firm, quick thrusts. One of her hands tangled into his hair, pulling his mouth away from her chest and back to her lips while the other slid down the length of his spine and took hold of one of his round asscheeks, squeezing it appreciatively as he let out a loud groan-stifled laugh. He could never fully understand his wife’s fascination with his ass, nor would he ever bring it up to anybody, but he was not opposed to her wandering hands when they were behind closed doors.

She was quick to topple over the edge, her moans growing louder and less reserved as she climaxed, body trembling from the aftershocks, though he gave her little reprieve as he pulled out, forcing himself onto his knees while flipping her over to lay flat on her stomach. He slid a pillow beneath her hips, angling her core towards him as he slipped back inside and draped his body over her own, his weight supported by one hand pressing into the mattress next to her head while the other gripped her hip, pulling her back to meet his every thrust.

Timothy didn’t miss the fingers that she had slipped down to rub at her clit as his hips pistoned in and out of her dripping core, “You need’ta come again that bad, darlin’? You needed me that bad?” 

“Mhm,” she whined, “needed you all day, Tim.”

“Let me take care of you, baby,” the hand on her hip moved around to the front of her, pushing her fingers out of the way and replacing them with his own, “you just lay there and take it. That’s right, turn that pretty little brain of yours.”

She followed his every instruction, cheek pressed into the mattress, lips parted to allow every cry and whimper to escape her as her back arched even more into his hips. Her legs bent at the knees, calves wrapping up the side of his hip. 

“Gonna fill you up baby,” he rasped, cursing as her walls began to flutter around him as the knot in her stomach threatened to snap for the second time that night, “you like that idea, huh? You want me to make you a mama or somethin’?”

Though they had no intentions of having any children in the near future, they had been equally responsive to the idea of her falling pregnant during sex. Her walls clamped down on him hard, body tensing as her juices gushed out around him. Her clit throbbed beneath his fingertips for a moment before her body went lax against the mattress, somehow even more so at his mercy than before as his hips began to stutter in response to his own orgasm rushing through him, sending spurts of his seed into her core, collapsing over her back in relief. 

“Goddamn, baby,” his breath was heavy against her cheek as he spoke, “never ever gonna get my fill of this pussy.”

She huffed out a breathless laugh, glancing at him over her shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, I love you, too. Now take me to the shower and let’s go to bed, I’m feeling awfully tired all of a sudden.”

“Oh yeah?”  He asked while he carefully unravelled himself from around her, climbing off of the bed while he guided her into his arms, swaying them side to side as he walked them over to the bathroom, where he left her to do her business while he started the shower.

“Yep,” she mused, that familiar glint of desire in her sleepy eyes, “besides, you’re gonna need your beauty sleep before round two in the morning.”

[bunny-jpeg]

⋆⋅☆max v. with a trans masc partner☆⋅⋆

max verstappen knew what he liked. while he usually put the front as a heterosexual man, he had always been a little more fluid about his sexuality outside of the limelight. he had kissed many men in his life as with women, even those who were neither men nor women. kissing was fun, sex was fun. and he wasn't going to limit himself to one set of tools to get the job down. a cock down the throat could be as delightful as sinking into a sweet pussy.

so it was more of a surprise for you to receive max's advances than it was for him to give them.

you remembered when you grandmother told you that she was concerned about you transitioning because you may "never find love" and you told her that it didn't matter. cars were your love, you didn't need a person to fill that gap. so when you met the three time world champion as the new mechanic for the 2024 season, you honestly didn't think too much about wooing him romantically.

but, max was wooed by you. especially when he saw that your lockscreen of your phone was a picture of your two cats, and when he brought up his cats, you just lit up. max liked that you treated him like he was a person. and you simply said, "mate, i'm pretty certain they don't let robots drive these cars." then slapped him on the back, "but i will make you bleed red if you total my car." then flashed him a smile.

you remembered the first time max kissed you. the dutch grand prix had been a total success and within the quietness of the garage post-race with the trophy max had won near by. he took you by the waist and kissed you. he'd later admit that he wanted to do it right on the track.

"do you kiss all your mechanics like that, verstappen?"

"no, only the ones who allow me to win." you two had spent almost the entire season bitching about red bull. max wondered if or when he eventually jumped teams, if he could take you with him. as he held you in his arms. chest to chest.

you admitted close to his ear, a little insecure, "i hope you know. i've built myself... i was born a girl, but became something more. different." then tried to pull back, fearful of his response. you weren't trying to trick him, you'd rather have it on the table.

but he pulled you back in, his blue eyes on you, "you act like i don't know what transgender people are, mechanic." he said as he leaned you back a little, to get a fuller look at you, "you act like i've never been to bed with one."

"i don't want to be a one night stand." you said, your hands on the front of his polo shirt. his hat long hit the floor in the heat of the kiss. you swallowed, "i won't be a toy, verstappen. i have too much respect for myself."

he chuckled, "that's what i like to hear." he held you around the waist and you kissed once more. he could feel the rise in his blood pressure. while you could've easily done it in the garage, max gave you the address of where he was staying and the lie to tell security.

the mechanics team were in another hotel, but if you wore your red bull branded uniform and had your mechanic's pass then you'd get in easily. they'd never suspect that you'd be intimate with the star of the team. and you did just that. even flashing a smile at security before you headed up to the elevator. they didn't even ask questions, which made your life easier.

you found max's room and he happily brought you in. but once the door was closed behind you. his strong arms were around you. he smiled at you, happy to see you. you carefully touched his face, part of you believed this was a strange dream after too many rum and cokes. but as you felt his facial hair under your hand, this was all painfully real.

"do you want this?" he asked.

you nodded and responded with a question of your own, "do you?"

his smile grew a little more, he leaned in closer to you. you only now realized how blue his eyes were, "since the moment i saw you come to the garage. you were more impressed with the car than with me... i found it endearing." he chuckled.

you held his face with both hands and gazed at him, "yeah, because it's a piece of shit car for a champion. it's like giving the king aluminum instead of gold."

he laughed before he leaned in for a kiss. you held his face close to yourself and you felt something bloom in your gut. eventually you got your worn sneakers kicked off and the jacket of your uniform off. it left you in a white t-shirt and max started to strip as well. you eyed his form and he eyed yours.

you felt his heated gaze linger on your chest for a moment and without thinking you crossed your arms across where your top surgery scars were. it was habit at that point.

max was in just his jeans and socks. he reached for your arms. feeling your warm under his palm as he carefully moved your arms away. he wanted to admire you, all of you.

"must've felt very different after the surgery." he said as he held your wrists, his eyes gazed on the fading scars. he was in no way to judge about scarring. at least yours were for something worthwhile, to change yourself in such a fundamental way, "was it scary?"

you shook your head, "no... i wanted to do everything afterwards. my doctor basically put me on bed rest because i was trying to push myself too hard. what was a four week recovery turned in seven."

he placed his hands on your flat chest and could feel the slight raise of the scars under his palms, "you push yourself too hard."

you swallowed, feeling the heat in your cheeks, "if you want to be the best. you have to do more than your best." your gaze met his. it felt so painfully intimate. this wasn't just sex in a hotel room, this was intimacy. max wanted more than your body, he wanted to know all the nooks of your soul and what inhabited them.

he leaned in once more, "we have that in common." before he kissed you once more. his kiss was sweeter, an assurance that you and your body were nothing to be ashamed of. if anything he admired it, even though he couldn't relate to the feelings you carried. he could at least understand the guts it took to go through it.

to become more than you what was given to you. it endeared you to him as you broke the kiss and continued to get undressed. the more of your bodies exposed to one another, the hotter the room got. even with the air conditioning rattling in the room. you could feel the heat between you two.

max sighed, "i don't have condoms... i can pull out or we can do something else." he explained as he got into the bed with you. both naked. his broad hand grazed across your body.

you responded and placed his hand on your lower abdomen, right before your pussy, "hysterectomy. six months before i started. are you clean though?"

he replied, "yes. been a long time since i've been with someone anyway." he was telling the truth. since you started at the season, everything had become a blur with you and the championship being a central focus.

his pointer finger trailed across the scar for a moment before he took your face in his hands and kissed you once more. you could go on about the shape of your face, but in his hands it felt very small. you hadn't realized that max verstappen had paws instead of hands. the thought made you giggle a little into the kiss.

he pulled away and looked at you before he laid you out on your back. he asked with a small smile, "what are you laughing about?"

you looked up at him and said, "didn't realized that formula one drivers had such big hands. every seen them up close like this before." then yelped a little when max grabbed you by the hips and pushed himself up against you.

he curved his back over you and maintained eye contact, those blue eyes were swimming with lust, "well. it's good you haven't seen others this close up. i might get a little jealous."

you looked away for a moment with a stupid grin on your face, "okay, flirt. why don't we get to it before i melt into this bed." then a soft moan left your lips as he rubbed his cock up against your wet cunt.

he admired you for a moment, hoping the image of your naked body stayed with him for weeks to come. you looked masculine. he wasn't going to say "technically" it's not having sex with a man. you were a man just as much as he was if not more. you had to create your manhood and you made it to perfection.

"i want you." you said softly.

he leaned forward and kissed you gently on the lips before he eased his cock into you. he replied with an equal softness, "i want you too, mechanic." the nickname made your ears hot as he moved against you. he thrusts were gently but gained a steady momentum.

you held onto the covers under your back and let him move against you. once you got a hold of his rhythm, you were able to meet his movements as well. the kisses you two shared grew hot as max planted both hands on either side of you and moved.

you two were moving against one another, locked in a heated kiss. the bed shifted slightly under your movements. max was thankful that were was not a bed on the opposite side of the wall. and that this place had enough insulation to keep your noises muffled.

the last thing he wanted was your integrity to come into question. that you only got to where you were because of your seductive ways. the noises between you two were soft. there was no need to rush, the race was over and tomorrow you'd be on the flight to the next one.

he took your hands and held them by your head, which kept you two close but also allowed him to keep you pinned under him. when you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead against his. the noises were harder to keep under wraps the more you moved. the pleasure felt like fireworks in your brain.

you moaned a little bit before you said, "i was thinking something stupid."

max chuckled his sweaty forehead against yours, "tell me."

"i realized what your eyes remind me of." you admitted softly, "i couldn't quite pin it after we met." you were breathing heavily as you locked your fingers further with his.

"and what do they remind of you?" he asked, curiously. he had heard people refer to them like the ocean, the sky after a store, the definition of blue.

you replied, "home. the lake near where i lived. not scary like the ocean. familiar like the lakes i grew up near."

max had no words, he simply laid another kiss on you. his hands grasped your tightly as you two moved together more. the pace quickened and max knew that he wanted to be in your life for a long period of time. he wanted you to be his home.

you moaned against the kiss, feeling the heat leap in your belly as you felt closer to orgasm. you came first with your lips against his. your back arched but your hands were pinned to the bed. it felt good as pleasure rushed to your brain.

max broke the kiss and continued to move against you. he let go of your hands in favour of your hips where he bounced your further against his cock. it made crackles of pleasure appear in your brain. and he was no better, his heavy breathing and occasional moan fueled his need to finish. and when he did, he did so inside of you. max never thought too much about the surgery you had, but he was thankful for it tonight.

he stayed inside of you for a moment as he cooled down before he left a kiss on the corner of your mouth. full of such tenderness as he pulled out of you and ran his fingers through his short hair.

you laid out next to him and heavily panting, feeling so vulnerable. he stayed closer to you, eventually pulling you to him and resting his chin on top of your head. you got comfortable against him.

"if you have any questions, i can answer them... about the whole trans thing." you swallowed, even now you felt embarrassed bringing it up. you felt it was a mood killer.

he took you by the chin and made you face him. he smiled down at you. he asked one question, "are you happy? did you get the life you wanted?"

you nodded in response, "everything and more." and that was enough for max. anything else you felt the need to tell him would be told with time, after all, max expected to be in your life for many years to come. both as his mechanic and lover.

-

max would only come clean about the relationship two years later. the end of his contract with red bull and a final championship was enough for the driver to retire peacefully. and when he retired, you retired and you made a home in monaco.

the coming out post set the internet ablaze. especially given how long you two had been together. wasn't anything too special, just a small collection of photos that he had taken over your time together. like the time you wore his helmet in 2025 with a big thumbs up. and that time you thoroughly messed up a birthday cake for him, and with the camera in your face, he rubbed the icing off your cheek. the one that really captured eyes was the one that a friend took of you at a house party when max came to visit your home country, with his legs over your strong lap and his lips against your face. you were smiling like the sun. being the center of a media storm was only braved with max by your side. at one point turning your phone off and throwing it onto the couch. his kisses were still loving as always, his words soft, and his affirmations of your gender were often so sweet that you'd cover your face in embarrassment.

you were always comfortable with the idea of not meeting your 'other half', you had been given a second chance at life once you came out. and if no one could accept you then so be it. but as you laid out on the couch laid out against your boyfriend with sassy at your side and your cat between the crook of your knee, you felt loved. <3

a/n: i do write for masc readers as well, both cis and beyond. just not as often because many request femme readers. but if an idea is cooking in your head. hit me with it!

[blythesarchives]

Roasted Chestnuts. | B.B

summary: Bucky takes to sleeping in the living room, you comfort him with hot cocoa.

warnings: Angst & Fluff | PTSD symptoms | Nightmares | Post accidental injuries

a/n: I hope this technically qualifies, even though it's sort of angsty. But there is fluff! I decided to use a few themes from the list provided and melded them together. Unedited, mistakes to be fixed later lol. ;; wc: 3.3k

Cold sweat and cold weather don't exactly mix.

Neither did the cold, wooden floor of the living room but...he insisted on it ever since he woke up choking you to near unconsciousness, his hands trembling with horror when he realized what he had done. The hardwood became his self-imposed punishment, refusing the comfort of proper bedding.

He couldn't forgive himself for that, his instability taunted him for weeks after that, having to see the bruise around your throat cause by his hand. Every morning he would catch glimpses of the purple-blue marks adorning your precious neck, each glance a reminder of how close he had come to destroying everything he held dear. The guilt ate away at him, manifesting in sleepless nights and countless apologies that could never seem to erase that moment from his memory.

He deserved it; the chill in the air making every bead of perspiration feel like tiny needles against his skin.

Especially his scars.

His shoulder hurt bad during the winter, which wasn't a huge surprise, but he would've appreciated if his body formed a bit of resistance to the cold by now.

Between endless cryofreezing, Siberian training, the prolonged exposure to freezing should have given him some sort of enhanced ability to withstand the cold but...cruelly, almost laughably, he was more vulnerable to the bite of chill now.

It pissed him off, quite frankly.

But right now, he couldn't bring himself to dwell on his annoyance.

Instead, his thoughts drifted to you as he sat there on the cold floor, his body tucked carefully against the chair that stood positioned by the stark wall. He had turned the chair into an improvised shelter of sorts, his upper body deliberately laid close beside it in a way that almost seemed to mimic having another body near him for comfort. The transition had been gradual over the course of several months, he had slowly grown accustomed to sleeping in a proper bed, and more importantly, he had grown used to having you there beside him.

Your warm, protective arms would wrap around his frame each night, and he had found himself free of any hesitation or shame as he tucked himself against your chest, letting the steady rhythm of your heartbeat become his personal lullaby, lulling him into peaceful sleep. Better than any goddamn noise machine he could dream of.

But that peace had been shattered after one particularly visceral nightmare that had resulted in him nearly choking the life from you in his sleep-addled state. He found himself unable to bear the thought of sharing a bed with you again, too terrified of what his unconscious mind might make him do.

He thought he was getting better, he was supposed to be better. The words didn't work anymore...therapy was mediocre at best but it was supposed to help him. Yet, after all of that, he still hurt you.

He's still plagued.

Frustrated with himself and the situation, he kicks the chair slightly, causing it to skid a few inches across the worn wooden floor with a harsh scraping sound. Bucky takes a deep breath, his flesh hand instinctively gripping his dog tags - those small pieces of metal that remind him of who he once was - one his own, one Steve’s.

Damnit, Steve. Why didn’t he stay?

The one man who always had his loyalty, his best friend, he felt so abandoned.

Now he had to dump his shit on you. You didn’t deserve this.

Dealing with what remained of Bucky. Dealing with his problems.

Burdening you with his issues.

All alone.

His vibranium hand nervously bundled the thin, threadbare blanket he used to sleep under. The television continued to drone on in the background, playing yet another cheesy Christmas movie that felt hollow and distant. He didn’t like these ones.

He liked the older ones.

They were simpler, easier to grasp. The fantasy of talking snowmen and flying reindeer seemed far better to lose himself in than these modern romantic tales of a cheerful woman who sings perfect carols and inevitably falls for a handsome shop owner...predictable stories that seemed to play on an endless loop.

The warm glow from the Christmas tree cast a gentle, inviting light across the sparse living room, making the empty space feel more like home. The apartment was still largely unfurnished, your current financial situation wasn’t great to say the least. Bucky's couldn’t get a job with his ‘criminal’ background, nor would anyone hire the Winter Soldier, regardless of how good he worked and how well he was with his hands. That left you as the sole provider. The weight of being the only one working pressed heavily on your shoulders, though you never complained.

You were happy to do it, if it meant Bucky could spend time relaxing and not worrying about anything.

Still, he didn’t like it.

The thought of his girl working for the both of you gave him a sour taste in his mouth, his gut tightened as he saw it as just another burden for you. A gentleman deep down, you having to work to support the two of you didn’t do anything but give him even more mental crisis.

Even when you were on the run in Romania, he found odd jobs. He brought food home. He took care of the two of you. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t think you shouldn’t be working because you were a woman, it’s just…he felt horrible. You did so much for him, and all he could do was sit at home and wait for you to come off your shifts. He felt worthless.

And despite the tight budget, you'd worked extra hours so you could afford a Christmas tree for the apartment. While Bucky had initially been indifferent to the idea of holiday decorations, his memories of past Christmases long since faded into a blur. Watching your face light up as you carefully placed each ornament made every penny worth it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the subtle creak of floorboards, and he turned to find you peering around the corner of the short hallway that led to your bedroom. "Buck Buck...what're you doin' up?" you murmured, voice thick with sleep. Your hair was charmingly disheveled, and his old henley hung loosely on your frame, the hem nearly reaching your knees. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked slowly, "I heard somethin' out here, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, doll I'm...I'm fine." He exhaled slowly, not exactly confident in his words, shoulders slumping forward as the weight of sleepless nights pressed down on him. His hand still held the dog tags, fiddling with them restlessly as his thumb pad gently traced the engraved names and numbers, a nervous habit he'd developed.

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself that?" You asked softly, sitting down beside him on the cold floor, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to give him space. "Why don't you come back to bed with me? It's cold out here and that small blanket is not enough... I can see you shivering."

"No." He spat firmly, his jaw clenching with tension, "We've been over this. I'm not going to risk hurting you again. I can't...I won't let that happen."

"It was an accident-" you tried to reason, reaching out instinctively.

"NO!" Bucky snapped suddenly, his volume and tone loud enough to echo off the walls, making you flinch as it startled the sleep out of you. The fear in his own eyes matched yours for a split second.

It was silent for a few beats until finally he found the courage to break it with trembling words.

"I can't...I won't hurt you again. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face - the fear in your eyes when I came back to myself. You can downplay it all you want. The doctors told me how close I came to crushing your trachea. How am I supposed to carry on knowing what I almost did? You still have that dark bruise around your throat, oh...god..." His voice cracked and faded, heavy with anguish. The traumatic memory had carved itself deep into his psyche.

The faceless HYDRA torturers had been replaced in his nightmares, instead, visions of his own hands wrapped around your throat, watching helplessly as the life slowly drained from your eyes.

That was more horrifying than any of HYDRA's torture.

He would willingly submit himself to every cruel experiment, every brutal conditioning session, every moment of agony they had ever put him through - if it meant he could erase that one terrible moment when he had almost become your killer.

"Bucky," you interrupted his thoughts, your hand reaching out hesitantly in the dim light of the room, hovering just inches from his tensed shoulder but not yet making contact. You turned your palm slowly upward toward the ceiling, silently willing him to either take your hand or at least allow you the comfort of touching him. "I promise you, I am fine. Yes, it might've been a bit scary in the moment when it happened, and I understand why you're worried...but I know you'd never hurt me on purpose, not in a million years. It was an accident, nothing more than that."

He shifted uncomfortably under your unwavering gaze, his fingers clutching the deep green blanket even tighter to his chest, drawing it close like armor against both the cold and his own guilt. You could see the slight tremor in his frame, whether from the chilly air or his inner turmoil, you weren't sure. You knew he must be freezing out here in the living room, but if there was one thing you'd learned about Bucky, it was that he could be impossibly stubborn.

No matter how much you yearned to lead him back to the warmth of your shared bedroom, you knew he wouldn't budge an inch, wouldn't dare return to your bed, not while the belief that he might unconsciously harm you still gripped his conscience.

Instead of trying the back and forth of arguing, you decided to do something else. Rising from your spot, you made your way back to the bedroom, your bare feet making soft padding sounds against the aged wooden floorboards that creaked ever so slightly with each step. When Bucky heard you walk away, he assumed you had given up and gone back to bed for the night, so he slowly lowered himself down onto his makeshift sleeping spot, trying to find a comfortable position to attempt sleep.

But your absence was only temporary. Within moments, you had returned.

Your arms were laden with an assortment of blankets and a plush pillow, carried from your bedroom.

"No, doll..." he sat up immediately, preparing to launch into reasons why you shouldn't subject yourself to sleeping on the floor, even if it might be hypocritical. But you possessed every bit as much stubbornness as he did, and you had already made up your mind that he wouldn't have to face this night alone.

"Hush. I'm staying with you, and if that means camping out in the living room, then that's exactly what I'm going to do." You insisted firmly but gently, carefully arranging the blankets and pillow beside his spot. "And if sleep doesn't come easily tonight, then we can always put on a movie to pass the time. But I don't want you to be on your own, you've been torturing yourself for weeks now..."

Bucky looked down at his lap, a mix of exasperation and fondness crossing his features. "You are such a brat..." He finally replied, his lips pulling into a small, almost reluctant smile. The warmth in his chest grew steadily as he watched you, touched by how adamantly you insisted on sleeping beside him, even if it meant spending the night on the cold floor.

"That's me," you replied with a playful smirk, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now...how about some hot chocolate? If we aren’t gonna sleep, then we might as well have a little treat. Plus, it'll warm you up." You offered, already making your way to the kitchen with determined steps, your mind set on the comforting beverage. "Marshmallows or whipped cream?" You called over your shoulder, your voice carrying a hint of amusement as you deliberately didn't give him any opportunity to decline the offer.

He shook his head slowly, running his hand over his face as an affectionate smile spread across his features, unable to hide how endeared he was by your persistence. "Marshmallows...please," he responded softly.

"And that chestnut flavoring?" You added thoughtfully, observing him still comfortably tucked away on the floor, his form relaxed against the wall. Bucky gave a shy nod, a gentle expression crossing his features, and you couldn't help but smile warmly in return. "We should roast some, I hear people do that this time of year. But I'm not sure why exactly? I haven't had the chance to try them prepared that way before."

You carefully made your way back to where he sat, extending the steaming mug of hot chocolate towards him. The ceramic vessel was filled nearly to the brim, with a generous mountain of tiny marshmallows creating a fluffy white peak on top.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders slightly, reaching up to pluck a few of the dry marshmallows from the pile, popping them into his mouth one by one. "You can eat them plain as a snack," he offered simply, savoring the sweet dissolving treats.

"Yeah, but that seems a bit too plain for chestnuts. How about…a pie? God, I love pecan pie, why not chestnut pie? Or I hear they go good with apples."

"Pie would be really good...you know how much I love your baking," Bucky smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up as he fondly recalled all the delicious sweet treats you had lovingly prepared throughout the seasons. Apple pie was one of Bucky's all time favorite desserts, and he always lit up when you made it for him. You aren’t a professional baker by any means, but the homemade pastries and treats that came from your kitchen had become one of his most treasured simple pleasures in the world.

You sat nestled against him, your shoulders touching as you both sipped hot chocolate and talked about everything and nothing. The conversation drifted from the gentle snowfall outside to potential weekend activities, from dessert recipes you wanted to try together to movies you both wanted to watch.

Bucky had changed visibly since you crept out to see him, his tense shoulders had gradually loosened, the worried lines around his eyes had softened, and genuine smiles now came more frequently. You both occasionally made playful commentary about the predictable romantic comedy playing on screen, sharing knowing looks as the plot became increasingly formulaic and harder to tolerate.

"Can't we watch something else?" Bucky asked, turning to meet your gaze with a slight grimace, "I'm getting tired of these kinds of movies...at this point, I could practically recite exactly what's going to happen next, line by line."

“What do you mean?” You laughed a little, smiling at him as he rolled his eyes in return.

“Let’s see…it’s either Noel, Carol, or some other Christmas themed name for the main girl, and she always moves back to a hometown or is divorced or lonely or just…wandering through life feeling like something’s missing. Meets a handsome guy, a handy man, a baker, someone she knew from her childhood, and they eventually fall in love after this big Christmas event happens.” Bucky muttered, “And there's always singing! That’s been the plot for the last three movies, I swear.”

"Sure," you responded with another laugh, he hit the nail on the head. You reached forward for the remote and scrolled through channels until you stumbled on one specifically for classic holiday films. "Oh my god, this one! It's from, like...1960." You watched, somewhat amused, as the distinctively vintage stop-motion animation showed Rudolph trudging through the snow, the character's movements charmingly stilted by today's standards. Your finger hovered over the remote button, ready to continue searching.

"No, no...don't change it," he interjected softly, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice, "I'd like to watch this one..."

"Really? Alright," you set the remote down and got comfy. These classic films held a special place in your heart, each frame bringing back cherished memories of curling up on the couch as a child, lost in the magic of storytelling and still believing in Santa Claus. "This used to be one of my favorites," you murmured softly, snuggling closer against him. Bucky lifted his right arm, eager to feel your heat against his bare chest. He hadn't experienced watching these movies the same as you had, his past denying him even these small comforts.

It wasn't like HYDRA allowed him a tv.

Watching it now, even without the foundation of the right nostalgia, he was drawn into the film's spell. There was something touching about its simplicity, the way it managed to weave enchantment through every scene despite its less sophisticated approach. Even with its fantastical storyline, it carried an authentic magic that resonated deep within him, something pure and genuine he could instinctively recognize. Much better than the movies he had seen all day.

The first movie seemed to float by in a comfortable haze, and before you knew it, another began to play. These old ones didn’t have a very long runtime, but you forgot just how quick they fly by. The Charlie Brown Christmas movie filled the screen with its familiar charm. The gentle orchestration of the score and soothing tone of the character’s voices set a comfortable mood in the room.

While the movie played, you felt a slight shift in weight beside you. You glanced over and noticed Bucky's empty mug resting forgotten in his lap, old white foam from melted marshmallows sticking to the rim, his features softened as his eyelids had finally drooped closed. His weight leaning more against yours, and you carefully adjusted yourself.

"Oh, Bucky..." you whispered tenderly to yourself, watching as the exhausted man finally succumbed to sleep, the warm hot chocolate having done its job exactly as you'd hoped it would. Gently, you removed the empty mug from where it rested precariously on his lap and eased him down into a more comfortable position, making sure his head was properly supported by the plush pillow beneath it. You then took your time meticulously arranging the thick blankets over his body, paying particular attention to his metal arm, ensuring it was completely covered.

The winter months were especially difficult for him, the cold made the connection points of his prosthetic ache terribly, so you made sure that every inch of the metal limb was thoroughly insulated against the chill.

Damn, you should really invest in a heated blanket…they were just so expensive.

You were determined to get one for him though.

After adjusting the television volume just a little to create a soft, ambient background noise, you settled yourself beside his sleeping form. You snuggled in close, your hand moving in slow, soothing strokes up and down the broad expanse of his back.

Even in the depths of sleep, he instinctively sought out your warmth, shifting closer until his face was buried against your chest, his arm wrapping around you in a secure embrace. Though the weight and coolness of the metal arm pressed against you was initially a bit uncomfortable since the henley rode up a bit, but you quickly adjusted. Vibranium was nice, once it warmed it would stay that way for a long time.

But the same vise versa, meaning you really should get a heated blanket soon.

For now, this would do. You'd be the heat he needed, even if it meant staying with him on the floor.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

@buck-star 's Fluffy Winter Event.

[genderqueerdykes]

My MtF friend and I got on the topic of TME/TMA bullshit the other day and she pointed out something I wanted to share (with her permission) "The whole concept of TME/TMA can even result in trans women never wanting to come out to avoid being associated with such shitty believes. If my first interactions in the trans community was someone who believed in it I would probably never admit to myself that I was trans cuz I don't want to associate with a group whose entire personality seems to be victimizing the trauma olympics I-Am-The-Main-Character all in one. Hell they would've probably told me I wasn't actually a trans woman just because my egg cracked late and exclude me anyway."

thank you so much for taking the time to send this, i really appreciate it, because your friend said it better than i ever could've.

I don't want to associate with a group whose entire personality seems to be victimizing the trauma olympics I-Am-The-Main-Character all in one.

this is something i've been wanting to flat out say for a while, so thank you very much for this. it literally is very VERY petty behavior at this point and i'm not humoring it anymore. we have to call things for what they are and admit that a lot of transfems are using this as an opportunity to wallow in their misery so they can control others to make themselves feel better because they feel powerless in cisheteronormative patriarchy. it's not fun or quirky or progressive.

i am very much over making queerness about who is the most oppressed or who is the biggest victim. i feel like a lot of people forgot what a victim complex is for the sake of mining pats on the back from strangers. so many transfeminine people right now are replacing their personalities with being a victim and it needs to come to an end. womanhood is not about being a victim, no matter how hard that woman has it. a lot of transfems genuinely do have this "I Am The Main Character" behavior. a lot of transfems genuinely do believe they are the protagonists of the queer community due to how bad they have it. we have to call it for what it is at this point. it's not an attack to say it.

i've been trying to point this out for quite a while: the TME/TMA binary and man/masc hating in general hurts trans women who are questioning, just now learning about transness, stealth, need to stay in the closet, are never transition, who struggle to pass, who don't want to pass, who are butch, who are gender non conforming, and those who are also men. but this especially hurts questioning and newly introduced trans women because nobody wants to be told that they're shitty for being a man one day, and then babied and patted on the back for being a woman the next. the whiplash from that would be damaging alone

your friend brings up a good point too because what about the trans women whose eggs crack later in life? what about those who don't realize they're a woman until they're in their 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s...? what about trans women who only interact with or present their womanhood sometimes? what about trans women who are content being seen as a man in society, but still identify as a woman inside? what about the trans women who don't ever want to tell another soul but are still women despite that?

this behavior hurts genderfluid and butch transfems a lot. this behavior harms masculine trans women so badly. there are transfeminine butches that want to present butch and i don't care if you read them as a "Cishet man" that's a trans butch and they're not obligated to be less masculine for anyone to accept them. trans butches face so much bullshit for how they dress, appear and act. i'm sorry not everyone's womanhood is feminine, but transfeminine butches deserve to present however the hell they want to and not have anyone call their identity into question.

it really affects trans women who don't pass, don't try to or don't want to.

it really affects trans women of color.

this behavior hurts so many people and i really want everyone to understand a lot of those people... are trans women. please be more considerate of those around you. thanks for taking the time to send this anon, i really appreciate it. you can let your friend know that was deeply insightful & exactly a point i've been trying to make for months. thank you both. have a great week, stay safe

[fratttymatty]

The Algorithm's Curse

(All characters are 18+)

Eliot Farrow sat in the farthest corner of the school library, hunched over a battered copy of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. The world around him didn’t exist—just the words on the page, the scent of aging paper, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above. He adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses and pulled his oversized cardigan tighter around himself.

He had no patience for stupidity. And high school? High school was nothing but stupidity.

Loud voices shattered the peace.

"Bro, that new TikTok trend? Fire."

"Dude, that transition? Insane."

Eliot barely held back a groan. The table across the room was occupied by the worst kind of people—athletic, vain, TikTok-obsessed jocks. They spoke in half-sentences, grunted like cavemen, and used words like "rizz".

His best (and only) friend, Jasper, leaned in, whispering, “Imagine you on TikTok.”

Eliot snorted. “I’d rather be lobotomized.”

But later that night, lying in bed, he hesitated.

Just one peek. Just to confirm how dumb it was.

He downloaded TikTok.

And that was the last mistake Eliot Farrow ever made.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. His For You Page had political debates, book reviews, history facts—exactly what he expected. But then, an odd video appeared.

"Tired of being a nobody? Want to be HOT? Watch this every day."

The guy in the video was everything Eliot despised—tan, muscular, shirtless, flexing in a mirror while electronic bass thumped in the background.

Cringe.

He scrolled past.

But another appeared. Then another. And another.

"Stop scrolling, bro. This is the mindset shift you need."

"If you’re not at the gym, what are you even doing with your life?"

"Upgrade your look, upgrade your life. Trust the algorithm."

A strange sensation crept up his spine. His phone screen glowed, the TikTok symbol pulsing like a heartbeat. His vision blurred, the world warping around him.

His skin burned. His bones ached. His sweater suddenly felt suffocating.

Something was changing.

He looked down. His sleeves had vanished. In their place, a sleeveless compression shirt clung to his body, showing off—wait—his biceps? His fingers twitched. They were different. Tanned, veins visible, nails trimmed to perfection.

He stumbled to the mirror.

A stranger stared back.

Gone were the glasses, the soft curls, the pale complexion. In their place: tousled brown hair, styled in effortless, boyish waves—the kind that made girls comment "OMG ur literally perfect 😩." His once-slender frame was now toned, shoulders broader, jawline sharp enough to slice.

His lips moved on their own. "Bro, what the hell?"

Wait. His voice.

It was deeper. Smoother. Confident.

His phone vibrated.

"Yo, Axton. Where u at? Party’s lit, bro."

Axton?

His fingers moved before his brain could catch up. "Bet, bro. Omw."

The house party was packed. Music thumped, neon lights flickered, bodies swayed in sync.

Axton—because that’s who he was now—stepped inside. And people noticed.

Jocks threw up handshakes. Girls stared, whispering. His body knew what to do. His posture? Perfect. His smirk? Effortless. His TikTok-clout brain pre-loaded with the right phrases.

"Ayy, my guy!" Some dude clapped him on the back. "Bro, your last thirst trap? Wild engagement, man."

Axton laughed, though he barely remembered posting it. His memories were… fuzzy. Books? Gone. Political debates? Who cared? He didn't need intelligence. He had hype.

Then, he saw her.

The perfect girl.

Long blonde hair. Perfect tan. A crop top that read “Brat Energy”. Glossy lips, manicured nails, and a vacant but stunning expression.

She gasped, bouncing on her toes. "Axton, oh my God!"

His arms were around her before he could think.

She giggled, twirling her hair. "We are, like, literally couple goals."

Somewhere deep inside him, a voice whispered. This isn’t you. You’re Eliot. You love books. You—

The thought vanished as she pressed closer.

Because Axton was hot.

And when you're hot, nothing else matters.

In fact, if Axton ever got into controversy, people wouldn’t care.

"idc what he did he’s literally so fine 😍"

And honestly? Same.

[travelingthief]

Apollo as a Queer Deity

The Death of Hyacinthos (1801) by Jean Broc

Apollo has had many male lovers in Greek mythology. Most famously, he loved the young mortal Hyacinthus, the namesake for the hyacinth. But the list doesn’t stop there.

Admentus

 Admentus of Pherae was the mortal king Lord Apollo was sentenced to serve for a year as punishment for slaying the Python at Delphi. Writers such as Plutarch, Callimachus, Tibullus, and Ovid described Apollo’s affection for Adementus with homoerotic overtones. Callimachus wrote that Apollo was “fired with love” for Admentus. In addition to his servitude, Apollo helped Admentus prolong his life by getting the Fates drunk and persuading them to let Admentus live, so long as he could find someone else to die in his place. When his parents would not die for him, Alecstis, Admentus’s wife, died for him instead. After realizing he didn’t want to live without his wife, Heracles - who was impressed with Admentus’s kind treatment of guests - descended into the Underworld and fought Thanatos, ultimately winning and returning Alecstis to the Land of the Living. 

Adonis

Adonis was loved by many deities, Apollo included. Adonis was said to “act as a man with Aphrodite and act as a woman with Apollo.”

Branchus

Branchus was a seer of Apollo and in some traditions, is his lover. Sometimes Branchus was born with his seer abilities and other times his abilities are a gift from the god he received later in life. In his adulthood, Branchus worked in animal husbandry. Apollo, enamored with Branchus’s beauty, disguised himself as a goatherd. Apollo revealed his divinity by milking a male goat. After revealing his divinity, Branchus and Apollo became lovers and Branchus established a temple for Apollo at Didyma. 

Cyparissus

Cyparissus was a boy whom Apollo loved. He gifted the boy a stag, but Cyparissus accidentally killed his beloved stag in a hunting accident. He prayed to Apollo for his grief to be immortalized, so Apollo changed him into a Cypress tree, which became sacred to Apollo.

Hyacinthus

Hyacinthus was a mortal youth whom both Apollo and Zephyrus loved. One day, while Apollo and Hyacinthus played discus a jealous Zephyrus looked on. Zephyrus, god of the west wind, decided to punish the couple by manipulating the winds, causing the discus to strike Hyacinthus in the head and killing him. Apollo, overcome with grief, immortalized his beloved by turning him into a hyacinth. 

Some scholars interpret this myth as the hot sun killing crops in the summertime, as Hyacinthus was a minor Cthonic vegetation deity. 

Iapyx

Iapyx was a favorite of Apollo and they were potentially lovers. Apollo wanted to bestow a gift on Iapyx. Iapyx elected to receive a longer life and skilled healing abilities. 

My Personal Experience:

When I was 14, I cut all of my long, dark hair off which marked the beginning of my physical transition. I spent my teen years exploring my identity and coming into myself. The same time I overcame some prominent internalized transphobia was around the time I became a Hellenic polytheist. In an act of societal defiance, I decided to grow my hair back out.

I was 19 and completely on my own for the first time, and that year was one of the most transformational years of my life (so far). I learned about manhood, adulthood, and what masculinity means to me. Eventually though, it was time for me to cut all of my hair off. I had learned a lot about myself, one of them being I hate having long hair.

So again, I cut off my long, dark hair, this time with a better understanding of who I was and where I was going. In ancient times, boys would cut off their hair in the name of Apollo to signify their transition to manhood, and that is exactly what I did. Now, my last lock of long hair sits in an envelope, next to another labeled "First haircut, 2004" on my Apollo altar.

I don't know if many people turn to Apollo as a queer god, especially for transness. But with the journey I've been on, it only felt right.

Sources:

Homoerotic themes in Greek and Roman mythology - Wikipedia

Hyacinth (mythology) - Wikipedia

CYPARISSUS (Kyparissos) - Cean Prince of Greek Mythology

Branchus in Greek Mythology - Greek Legends and Myths

Admetus of Pherae - Wikipedia

Alcestis - Wikipedia

Iapyx - Wikipedia

Adonis - Wikipedia

Divider: @cafekitsune

[fernandopiastri28]

lick it up ~ lando norris x reader

warnings: drinking, smut, pwp, angst 😬 mdni!

Lando Norris- known manwhore. When he's not in his car going 350 km/h, he chases that thrill in other things in life. Designer items, drinks, parties- women. But there's only one thing that he really wants, he craves her love- his bestfriend.

She felt a pair of sturdy arms wrap around her waist, almost suffocatingly tight. It made it hard to breathe, the paining sensation only increased by the already constricted airflow inside the crowded club. “Lan?” She murmured, her head turning each way in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her best friend. She felt woozy due to the alcohol seeping through her system and she really didn’t need to deal with an over insistent man who believed he had the privilege to her body in her current state.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lando’s chin rested against her shoulder, his hot breath tickling her neck. Those were his arms around her, holding her body closer to him then anything surrounding the pair. “I’m here,” One of his hands travelled up to her hair, his fingers gliding through her frizzing hair. “Don’t worry,”

Sure, Lando was a naturally affectionate person, often insisting on hugging as a greeting and goodbye, or resting his head on the shoulder of absolutely anyone who was near him. He liked touch, saw it as the easiest way he could express his caring and love for others. But drunk him was another level- hands anywhere he could get them, face buried into their shoulder or neck. 

“Lan, you’re really drunk,” She giggled, pushing her slight anxiety down to her stomach as his lips started moving aimlessly against her neck. He wasn’t quite kissing there, but only because he was moving too quickly to be able to actually press his lips to a single spot. 

He grumbled, dissatisfied with her comment. “So? You are too,” Lando was sounding pissy already which only usually happened later into the night. By this point, he was usually going to go seek off some other girl to spend the night with who would fawn over his every move and beg for more.

Her head tilted back, resting against his chest slightly, “I am,” A grin played across her lips, forcing his grimace to transition into a smirk, his eyes full of pure adrenaline without a single thought behind them. “Not as much as you though,”

A nod of agreeance came from him, his hands idly moving up and down on her waist, settling on her hips for a few seconds as her body continued to aimlessly sway along with the music. “It’s difficult to be more drunk than I am- especially since you’re such a heavy weight,”

It was true, and something that Lando was incredibly envious of. He wanted her ability to pour endless drinks down her mouth, consuming absolutely anything she wanted at once and manage to feel perfectly fine the next morning, while he would find himself with a throbbing headache, next to a girl he couldn’t remember the name of. Maybe he’d never asked her though.

“Or maybe you’ve just drunk more,” She dragged a finger along his cheek. Even if she didn’t show it as much, she was certainly feeling very drunk. For once, she wanted to be like Lando, feel like him. She craved his complete confidence and how he would feel as if he was on top of the world each time a drop of alcohol entered his system.

Maybe tonight she’d finally score a man to bring home, be the one to tell Lando all about her most recent hookup instead of always being on the receiving end of hearing it from him.

But at least for right now, all of his attention was on her. He looked at her like she was one of the girls he’d want for even just a night, instead of the one he left behind each time they’d planned to go out together.

She knew full well that the way Lando treated his one night stands was far from something that she should be dreaming about almost nightly, to be the girl that woke up to the sight of Lando’s peaceful sleepy face, his dark lashes fluttering over his cheeks and his unruly curls- but she knew a different side of him. The one that was loving, that cared. The side of him that would talk in the highest of praise about the girls he did really like, and how he never once spoke ill of someone to her.  

He was different then how he came across, she knew that.

He held a bottle of some blue liquid, the spout of it resting against his bottom lip. She ogled up at him, her eyes wide and pupils huge. “Hello,” He grinned, laughing at her dopey upside down expression as she leaned against him. “You’re smiley tonight,” He teased, his hand wrapping tighter around her stomach to keep her up.

“I am smiley,” A deep sigh left her chest, her cheeks beginning to hurt from how wide her smile was stretching out. “I like your face,” She mumbled out, each syllable oozing into the next. “It’s a good face- a true one at that,” Her body wasn’t used to this much alcohol, and she was feeling any kind of shame melting away and just a desperate need to be completely honest. 

A rosy flush was almost definitely covering her face at this point, given how hot it felt to the touch. “I like your face too,” He smiled, his nose nudging against her forehead. It felt unexplainable, like a thousand bolts of lightning crashing into her all at once. “It’s pretty cute,” His thumb swiped along her chin, nudging it open so he could place the finish of his bottle inside her mouth, the glass heavy on her bottom teeth.

He tilted it up, letting it run over her tongue and pool up inside her mouth. It was near sickening sweet, likely what his mouth tasted like given how much he’d already drunk the majority of it. “Good,” Two of his fingers tapped her chin again, his other fingers clasping the neck of the bottle so it didn’t drop. She shut her mouth, swallowing awkwardly due to the angle her head was at. 

Once her mouth was empty again, her lips parted, her eyes moving up further to where the whites underneath her iris’ were even more visible. “More?’ She mumbled, her back shifting back unconsciously to steady herself against him. He granted her wish, keeping her mouth open as he hooked his two fingers over her bottom teeth as more alcohol spilt into her mouth.

“Fucking hell,” He hissed, his pink tongue darting out between his teeth in concentration. Their eyes refused to move and break contact, tension just building the longer the moment lasted. “You’re so fucking hot doing that,”

Her body got hotter at the praise, her mind short circuiting and essentially spilling out of her ears. “You’re sexy,” Her lips wrapped around the bottle, suckling on it gently as the final few drops spilt onto her tongue. 

He went silent, his eyes darting across her face as a way to memorise each curvature and feature complete. He wanted to engrave this moment into his mind for the rest of time. The bottle slid down her mouth further, her lips pursing and stretching thinner around the thickness. His mouth dropped open ever so slightly, his eyes near bulging out of his head at the erotic sight.

He was hard, undoubtedly. His arousal pressed against her ass where her dress clung tightly around. He grinded against her, desperate for some sense of contact and pressure against his ache. “ Baby ,” He whined into her neck, pulling the bottle away from her mouth to rest it against some table.  

Her heart pounded harder in her chest, feeling like it could explode at any given moment. The mix of the nickname, the desperation in his voice, the way his crotch was rubbing straight against her. “ Lan ,” She moaned, turning around so her chest was pressed against his, the silk fabric of his button up gliding against her exposed skin. “Please,” Her voice cracked with straight need.

“Please what ?” His hand settled into place against her jawline, his palm flush with the front of her neck, the slightest pressure against it. He knew what she wanted, both of their intentions so crystal clear, but he wanted to hear her say it- needed it.

“Kiss me,” Her voice was so fucking weak at that point, her expression completely wanton and eager for him. His eyes went straight to her lips where a glossy whine of the remaining alcohol coated them, making them even more red and wetter. The grip his hand had on her jaw tightened, putting her head into the perfect position for him.

His mouth moved against hers quickly, her bottom lip slotting in between hers in an almost practised manner. Her mouth parted, his tongue slipping inside the warm emptiness within seconds. Moans from her spilt into his mouth, the vibrating sensation going straight to his dick, somehow getting even harder with each movement she made against him.

One of her hands trailed up to his hair, tugging on his curls. They were so delicate in between her fingers, perfect coils wrapping around each digit. Her other hand snuck up under his shirt, the back of her hand brushing against the soft silk while her palm and finger tips explored his hardened abs. 

“More,” She begged, her nose nudging against his as their lips finally broke away. His breathing was heavy, laboured almost. Their bodies were still resting flush against each other as his left hand sat heavily on her ass, squeezing it, while his other remained cupping her face. 

“What do you want, gorgeous?” His voice was lower, breathless from making out for so long. He’d tipped his head down, his mouth close to her ear. There were so many things she wanted- she wanted to kiss more, she wanted to feel his tongue all around her mouth, she wanted to taste him, she really wanted to fix the ache in between her legs.

So with not even half her brain working to put together a proper cohesive sentence, she mumbled out the first thing that came to mind, “ Hotel ,”. Whether it was her hotel or his wasn’t important, all that mattered was for them to have a private room to stay up all night together in private. Because despite how at this point she could probably be convinced to drop down onto her knees and suck his cock right then and there without much effort from the brit- it wouldn’t look too good for an f1 driver to be receiving a blowjob in a random club in Singapore. 

Maybe his one would be nicer on the other hand, a Formula one driver would likely have been supplied a higher star hotel then some girl in law school using her own money to pay.

With one swift move, each of her legs were on either side of his waist, her thighs bracketing his hips to keep herself up. One of his arms snaked around her waist for stability as he navigated his way out of the club, avoiding anyone who was clearly trying to approach him for either a photo or an autograph. 

She buried her face in the collar of his shirt, one of her hands trying to cover her face in a last chance attempt to conceal her identity in case anyone had been filming. It was something she should’ve considered before they started making out, but she couldn’t change the past now.

The humid Singaporean air struck them the second they pushed past the entrance doors. A thin sheen of sweat collected on the back of Lando’s neck, but she was unaffected. Singapore was a consistent visit of hers so she’d become accustomed to the near unbearable heat. 

A taxi rolled up right to where they were standing and before she even had the chance to ask when he managed to book one, Lando’s mouth was on hers again. She didn’t even notice the taxi door being opened until he was arranging her on his lap in the backseat, his eyes going directly down to her breasts. He placed a soft kiss to one where some cleavage was exposed from the dress’s style, while his hand worked at kneading the flesh.

A whimper of satisfaction passed by her lips, earning a shit-eating grin from the man. He continued his ministrations, tugging down some of the fabric over her breast to kiss further down her chest. Her head tipped back, hitting against the headrest of the passenger seat. As she ground her hips harder into his, each bump of the road that the car hit just pushed his boner further against her drenched cunt through her panties, a wet patch forming on his trousers.

“Pretty thing,” He trailed his lips up her neck, her jaw, then suckling on just her bottom lip. “So fucking wet for me,” He growled, pulling her body impossibly closer to him. Part of her wished she’d been sober for this- to be able to enjoy this moment with complete clarity and be sure to remember each and every event the next morning.

The drive seemed excruciatingly long, but had only been a mere few minutes in reality. Her body had essentially moulded into his by the end of it, her legs unable to work to take her to the elevator up to his room. They didn’t need to work though, he was more than excited at the opportunity to carry her as long as he could.

And she sure as hell wouldn’t be able to walk by the end of the evening. 

The second the elevator doors drew to a close, Lando’s hand was tugging her panties to the side, allowing a finger to slide along her clit, “Good?” He nuzzled his head into her neck, kissing the smooth skin there over and over. The touch was met with a string of pleasured moans, all more beautiful than the last.

He got prepared before the doors reopened, grabbing his phone out with his keycard secured in the back of it, ready to open the door the second they arrived so he could be on top of her as quickly as possible. The grazing of his finger stopped long enough for him to unlock the door, and resumed as soon as it clicked shut.

“Lando, fuck, please,” She begged, overstimulated by all the drawn out teasing of the night. “Just finger me already,” She was at her wits end, completely ready to just touch herself if he wouldn’t take it a step further right then.

She didn’t have to do that though as he answered her prayers, sliding a thick finger into her aching cunt. A sigh of relief left her lips, her hole clenched around his finger in reflex. He carried her into the bedroom, settling her down on the bed as he hovered over her, his knees on either side of her hips as he covered her face in chaste open mouthed kisses.

The pleasure turned to a quick flash of dull pain when he removed his finger, pulling her underwear down and tossing them across the room in a drunken hurry. His green eyes widened as he stared directly at her pussy, his pupils shooting wide in lust. “Fuckk,” He sighed, “Can I.. taste?” He wasn’t sure exactly how to word the request but she granted him permission regardless. 

He shuffled down, his massive hands grasping her thighs to position them over his shoulders. She lifted her hips off the mattress so as to allow him to push the bottom of her dress higher up before his head dipped down, his nose nudging at her clit. The sensation sends a rush of slick straight to where his mouth was readily waiting.

Tentatively, the tip of his tongue licked alongside her hole to her clit, emitting a shudder and a groan from the girl. He squeezed down on her thighs, rubbing the right one with his thumb to help her calm down. “What colour?” He murmured, looking up at her from between her legs. 

“Green,” Her head tilted back, hitting against the pillow as she moaned into it. With the go ahead, his tongue repeated the motion, pulling more noises out of her throat. He began to eagerly lap at her wetness, the taste coating over his tongue as he grew more desperate to make her cum.

He had become increasingly more aware of the pain in his trousers, his neglected erection tenting uncomfortable in his too tight boxers. Squeezing one of her thighs tighter to make up for the loss of his hand, he reached his hand down to his crotch and began palming at the spot. He tilted his head down, his tongue fucking her while his nose buried into her bundle of nerves.

She was feeling so much. The way his tongue was buried deep inside her, how his nose was expertly rubbing her clit, his hands stroking the insides of her thighs where goosebumps prickled, and most of all- the way his deep emerald eyes remained staring into her soul. He lapped at her wetness like he’d been deprived of sex for years- in reality it couldn’t have been more than a month. 

He had a one track mind, always did. His only goal in life was win, win, win. And today’s prize was making the beautiful girl laying on his bed, his best friend, cum with his mouth. Determined to make that happen, and make it happen right then, his teeth grazed against her slit gently to overstimulate her. 

Sure enough, the action got her legs shaking and her back arching. “Fuck, Lando,” Her hand yanked on his hair, effectively pulling him away slightly. His eyes went wide in shock, it certainly hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected. 

“I’m sorry,” He kissed the inside of her left thigh, his hand idly tenderly rubbing her knee. “Did it hurt?” She shook her head, having to crane her neck to look down at him. His cheek rubbed against her leg, another kiss to the bend of her knee. That time he suckled the spot, hollowing his cheeks to leave a small red spot when he pulled away.

“No, no- just.. sensitive,” She had to take a few moments to breathe, her chest raising and dropping with forced effort. “You- you can go again,” It’s more of a request than a suggestion, and he took it seriously. 

His mouth returned to her heat, his tongue swiping up in a practised motion, each one met with more noises of delight and pleasure. A hand yanking his hair again signalled her orgasm, spilling into his mouth. He drew to a halt, going slower as she came down from her high so it wouldn’t ache from the abrupt ending.

He scooted up so his face was just mere inches above hers. He couldn’t even try to force back the smile that played on his face upon seeing how absolutely fucked out she was. Her half lidded eyes, bitten lips, sweaty skin- it was truly a sight. He kissed her, over and over, wanting nothing more than to experience the pressure of her mouth on his.

As he kept his lips on hers, he began tugging down the top of her dress to reveal her strapless bra, one of his hands moved underneath her back, his fingers toying with the clasp of her bra before snapping it open. His fingers inched the thick fabric away, the pads of his fingers grazing along her bare chest. “I’m surprised it took you so long to get that off,” She snickered, “Thought you’d wanna see my boobs first thing,” Lando felt a wave of shame rush over him, drowning in embarrassment of her comment. 

He puffed hot air up onto his top lip, a slight snarl twisting his lips. “Is that how I make you feel? Like all I want from you is your body?” His tone was harsh, piercing her skin and leaving a mark. Her expression shifted from her drunken daze to somewhat more alert. The sting behind his tone was solely just a cover for his genuine hurt, unbeknownst to her.

“No, no, Lans..” Her hand cupped his cheek, her voice softening as she said it. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it like that at all,” She angled for a kiss, receiving one almost immediately as he was an absolute sucker for an apology kiss. “If anything that’s more me, I was the one begging for you earlier,” That soothed his nerves, his mood switching back to aiming for pleasure.

He sat back on his heels as she shuffled her legs closer to her, her knees bending up towards the ceiling while still straightened enough to allow them to keep their eye contact. Lando bit his bottom lip, a cheeky grin sneaking out through it. “Sex?” He finally asked, watching her expression turn to match his. 

She leaned forward, hands tangling up in the fabric of his button up. Within seconds it had joined her panties somewhere flung mindlessly across the floor. Her fingers massaged into the groves of his back muscles, relishing in how each one ripples with each sudden movement he makes.

His fingers clasped around the zip of her dress, pulling it down tantalisingly slowly. With each bit of skin that was further revealed, his lips peppered kisses down her body. Her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the pleasure and an overwhelming feeling of ‘ oh god, finally’. As she felt the last of her dress removed and likely joined the other discarded clothes, Lando let out a short breath of exhilaration.

His nose nudged her neck, lips focused on her collarbones. “Open your eyes,” He grumbled, his thumbs kneading into her waist. “Want you to see this, pretty thing,” Her eyelids were heavier than ever so opening them felt like a chore. 

A flush of wetness streamed straight to her core as she felt him rocking his hips against her cunt. With a flurry of hands and mouths on eachother, she tucked her fingers into his boxer’s waistband and shoved them down, his hardened cock smacking up to hit his stomach.

Her eyes practically turned black as her pupils grew beyond a size Lando deemed possible. “Happy?” A finger slid back inside her like it had been before, moving in and out before realising she’s definitely ready enough for a second one. 

“Horny,” His free hand tightened in place over her hips, lifting up to help his digits reach further into her. He ignored her clit, wanting her to finish for a second time when he was actually inside her.

The head of his cock was reddened and had drops of pre-cum lining all over it. He removed his fingers from inside of her, met with a groan of discomfort, and moved that hand to wrap around his aching shaft. “I needa fuck you right now,” Lando grumbled, his hand stroking his throbbing cock a few times before meeting her eyes, seeing only pure lust and want.

His hands gripped her legs, pulling them apart and locking them to wrap around his waist. One hand returned back to his dick, guiding it into her dripping hole. A gasp was punched from her throat as he got close to bottoming out. She was full, insanely full, as if he was to leave right then she wouldn’t have been a complete woman without him inside her.

Admittedly, there was definitely a fair amount of pain that accompanies the intrusion, but it doesn’t come close to the overwhelming pleasure. “Colour?” His voice was thick as he moved in and out of her with renewed energy.

“Green,” 

Lando went faster and deeper. 

“Greener,” Her expression was dazed and dopey as she looked up at him, her lips lax as she tried to express that she wanted kisses while he ruined her.

He didn’t get the hint, just pushed her legs further up and went quicker.

He finished first and she followed quickly after. He collapsed on top of her in an exhausted pile of a mess, his breathing heavy and manual. “That was so fucking good,” Her eyes trailed up to the ceiling, a sort of emptiness filling the void. She wished he would shut up as he kept rambling on about how pretty she was and how perfect tonight had been. Post sex clarity set in, and hit hard.

Because not only did she just hook up with an f1 driver in a random country, that driver was the man that had been her best friend for years and was a known manwhore. “I love you,” He mumbled, his hand playing with her hair. “Always have, for fucking years I’ve loved you” She didn’t hear him though, his mouth muffled with a blanket in front of it and her ears covered by her pillow.

He fell asleep with his body half on top of her, his arm draped across her chest. Of course he wasn’t the type to practise aftercare. She wiggled out from underneath him, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion and the desperate need for sleep. As soon as her feet hit the plush cushioning of the carpet and the city lights of Singapore nightlife illuminated her face, she realised the grim mistake she’d made.

So with that, she picked her bra and underwear up off the floor, nicking a pair of his smallest shorts and an oversized McLaren hoodie, wrapped herself up in those clothes and headed downstairs to the lobby, calling a taxi to her own account despite how the receptionist said the charge could go to the room she’d stayed in- to Lando.

Even though he had plenty of money to his name and on his card, and how a fifteen dollar taxi would hardly be noticed- she didn’t want to feel an obligation to him to pay him back for this. She needed clarity and space, and feeling like she owed him wouldn’t allow that. 

With a quick text sent to him, ‘ thanks for tonight, don’t think we should do it again,’ she stepped into her taxi and headed to her own hotel, showering his touch off under scalding water.

The next morning when he woke up tangled in a heap of blankets and pillow, he noticed how cold and empty the bed was. “Love?” His voice thick with sleep, his arms aimlessly reaching for her. They hit nothing though, he was alone in his bed. 

He sat up in a panic, every single moment from the night before remembered exactly. Dancing at the club, his drink in her mouth, the look in her eyes. Back at the hotel, his hands undressing her, their mouths attached to each other’s with undoubtable passion. Him buried inside her, how she’d sounded, how gorgeous she’d looked underneath him.

He’d fucking told her he loved her. And now she was gone. 

The now cold bed sheets wound tighter around his body, the false feeling of an embrace not nearly enough to heal the hurt.

~ part 2 ~

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Prologue - Terms and Conditions

A/N: Here we go! I’m obsessed with these two already. Let me know if you are too 🤍

Pairing: Tony Stark x Female Reader

Warning: 18+ slow burn.

Terms and Conditions

The conference room was sharp and sterile, walls lined with glass and egos, and the temperature dialed to “passive aggressive.” The tension wasn’t hostile—it was rehearsed, corporate, polite. Like everyone had agreed to wear their best masks.

Tony Stark lounged like this was a poker night, not a merger signing. Armani suit, sunglasses pushed back into gravity-defying hair, one leg crossed lazily over the other. He twirled his pen as though he was about to sign away someone else’s soul.

You sat across from him, upright and composed, your Novastem folder neatly aligned with the packet of legal documents. The Stark Industries logo gleamed beside your own, as if the two had already shaken hands and agreed to tolerate each other.

A senior board member from Stark Industries cleared his throat and began, “Given the shifting focus toward sustainable innovation, this merger allows us to diversify our portfolio in a way that speaks to future markets. Novastem’s work with nanogrid energy systems has potential applications across Stark’s existing infrastructure…”

Tony’s eyebrows lifted slightly. He caught your eye across the table and mouthed: Nanogrid?

You gave a tight smile, then mouthed back: Look it up.

Another advisor chimed in, “And of course, with Miss Y/L/N’s engineering background and Stark’s R&D capacity—”

“—We’re practically a Hallmark success story,” Tony muttered under his breath. You shot him a look. He responded with an exaggerated shrug and the most unbothered wink known to man.

The rest of the meeting blurred into metrics, projections, and polite nods. You signed your part with efficient precision. Stark, predictably, added a dramatic flourish.

And just like that, you were legally bound to a man who probably hadn’t read a single bullet point on the proposal.

He leaned in, voice just above a whisper, “You realize this is the part where I say something charming and you pretend not to be impressed.”

“I’m not pretending,” you replied smoothly, rising to your feet.

.

Later that evening, the penthouse was exactly what you imagined a Stark-level habitat to be, impossibly sleek, a little cold, and humming with invisible tech you could feel in your bones. It was less home, more showroom, like even the walls were trying to impress someone.

Tony hadn’t bothered with the grand tour. He pointed vaguely toward the hall with a distracted, “Guest room’s the third on the left,” and vanished into the depths of wherever billionaires vanish after signing their souls away on legal paper.

You toed off your shoes by the door and wandered further in, suitcase trailing behind you with a whisper.

The place was… vast. And quiet.

Not eerily so—more like the quiet that wraps around you in the moments between chapters. The air felt charged in that too-clean, too-perfect way, like someone had pressed pause on life and forgot to hit play again.

You passed the living room—chrome and marble and enough screens to surveil a small country—and caught your reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows. You looked tired. Or maybe just… transitioning. From who you were this morning, to whoever this was supposed to be now.

You didn’t mean to explore, but your feet led you through the space anyway. Past the kitchen that looked like no one had ever dared to cook in it. Through the hall where the lighting followed your movement, casting soft gold onto minimalist walls. Past rooms with closed doors you didn’t open.

And then, halfway through turning a corner, you froze.

A small sound barely audible, rustling behind one of the plants. Then the lightest little meow.

You blinked.

From behind a steel planter, a pair of eyes blinked back at you. Pale ginger and white, with the posture of a feline who had definitely been judging you this entire time.

“Oh!” you said, surprised. “Hello. You’re… cute. And very out of place.”

The cat tilted her head like she took offense to the ‘out of place’ part.

She sauntered forward with practiced confidence, tail in the air, and promptly began rubbing against your leg like you’d passed inspection.

You crouched slowly. “And you are…?”

There was no collar, but something about her aura screamed named and spoiled rotten.

A voice called distantly from the hallway—Tony’s.

“Try not to let her con you. She’s fluff with zero morals.”

You glanced up. “She yours?”

“She lets me live here, yeah.” A pause. “Dum-E.”

You blinked again. “You named your cat after your robot?”

Tony reappeared in the doorway, towel slung around his neck. He smirked. “Nah. I named my robot after my cat.”

.

A knock at the door startled you.

It cracked open slightly. “Hey,” said a familiar voice. Happy Hogan.

You blinked. “Happy?”

He stepped inside with a hesitant smile. “Thought I’d check in. You surviving the first night?”

“Barely,” you admitted.

Happy gave a small nod toward Dum-E, who was still curled smugly on your suitcase. “Careful. She once hissed at me for sneezing near her food.”

Tony’s voice called out from somewhere beyond the hall. “She was right to. That tuna was artisanal.”

Happy rolled his eyes. “He feeds her better than himself.”

You tried not to smile. Failed. “She’s already claimed me.”

“She does that,” Happy said fondly, then sobered a little. “You good? I know this wasn’t exactly the dream wedding.”

You looked around, then at the cat, then at the impossibly large penthouse.

“No. But I’ll manage.”

Happy nodded. “You’ve handled worse. You’ll handle this. And hey—if you ever need a real person to talk to… I’m around.”

He paused before adding with mock seriousness, “Just don’t feed the cat shrimp. It goes to her head.”

From down the hall, Tony’s voice again: “I told you, it was ONE time—”

You smiled—genuinely this time. “Thanks, Happy.”

.

You curled up in bed a few minutes later. Dum-E had relocated to the window, silhouetted in moonlight, tail twitching as she surveyed her new roommate.

You weren’t sure what tomorrow would bring.

But you knew one thing.

You were already becoming part of the chaos. And for now… that would do.

[reingkings]

Why do you ship inhun? Does the ship make sense? I don't kinda see it but I guess there is something between them, I'd really like to know your thoughts about it

Hmm. Interesting question. I do think they “make sense” in a shippable way.

Note that if you’re not into not-entirely-sane ships then it might not appeal to you. However, I can try to answer what appeals to me. I’ll try to put screen caps or links but ngl I’m not gonna try hunting down all of it. Here’s the manifesto:

1. The narrative casting them as character foils

So each character in the show often not only represent themselves, but to some extent the show’s themes. Since before Gi-hun becomes a victor, he is shown to be discongruent with the nature of the games. The first “true” meeting between In-ho and Gi-hun happens to be at this point in S1:

Mind you when this occurs, it’s after the gamemakers deliberately starve the players to incite violence between them. Deoksu/101 just killed a man. This outcome is exactly desired.

In a way this is a microcosm of the rest of their ideological struggle — that being whether or not humans are inherently selfish and cruel.

We later see the theme again during the last fight scene, when Gi-hun reaches his hand out to Sang-woo. Not only is this a moment of ultimate compassion, but for In-ho who we see is an avid lover of the arts. What else does this resemble?

The painting, The Creation of Adam. Aka the creation of man. (Stick with me on this, I promise I’ll explain).

Notice that this shot not only resembles the painting on a superficial level but in spirit. Adam is in repose and God is the one who reaches out, the one making the most effort to make a connection. In-ho’s face isn’t visible but imagine how he, looking down on it, feels at the very moment:

It’s giving new religion. Later on, In-ho will say something along these lines:

Race horses. And yet, besides his brother, at this point Gi-hun is the very first person In-ho takes his mask off for, something he does not do for even the VIPs. This scene also comes after he kills a guard because “when they find out who you are, you die.”

This treatment marks In-ho’s transition into seeing Gi-hun as his only equal (and yes, In-ho is arrogant that’s kind of his appeal, I don’t believe he thinks that highly of the VIPs either).

Another aspect is that in their final scene at Il-nam’s death bed, they are kind of marked at the inheritors of Il-nam’s system.

Gi-hun leaves Il-nam to witness his one failure. In-ho closes Il-Nam’s eyes.

So it’s the end of S1. We don’t know a lot about In-ho. However we can assume a few things. Both he and Gi-hun are both victors and victims of the oppressive system. Both of them went through anguish after their victory (In-ho’s is mostly inferred, but there’s a deleted scene paralleling Gi-hun’s). Both of them failed to save what mattered the most. Both of them can’t move on from the games and returned. They both abandoned everything in their life for this pursuit.

In a way, there is no other person in the world than can understand them more than the other.

And here is where the character foil aspect comes in. Despite their similarities, their character arcs are the opposite. Gi-hun at the beginning was kind but flawed, an impulsive gambler who could steal money from his mother and disappointed his daughter at many turns. In-ho seemingly was a well-loved, upright citizen who made sacrifices for his family.

And yet, of the two the one who became cruel and heartless was In-ho. The one who became more self-less and compassionate was Gi-hun.

How does In-ho react to meeting his polar opposite? It could easily be hatred or disdain. Instead it’s well, my next point.

2. In-ho’s subtextual obsession with Gi-hun

Season 2 within the games is when most of us really saw the ship’s potential but there are many hints beforehand.

I and others have made some posts about In-ho’s wildly inappropriate actions towards Gi-hun even in S1. Why does he have to stuff the bank card in Gi-hun’s mouth, why does he send the invitation through a bouquet of flowers (actually he sends this invitation twice), why does he decide to physically be there when meeting Gi-hun in a limo on his birthday? A day, mind you, that he needs to be prepping for the games. In-ho doesn’t have to be there, he literally talks to Gi-hun through a speaker he could be in a nice hotel room. Somehow, it’s important for him to be there.

Can this be read as anything but a fixation?

Even when he joins the game his sole focus is on Gi-hun. He makes a concerted effort for Gi-hun to like him (playing hero, baring his true wounds, defending him from the ire of other players, even coming up with an flimsy excuse because he slipped up and called Gi-hun by his name). If he wanted to torture Gi-hun, he could easily turn the players against him. According to the director, his goal is:

But in front of our eyes he does shit like this:

He even bullies his guards:

Does that look like a hit to you 😭 I dare anyone to say that a different player would have passed. Especially when In-ho interceded in the first place.

Another victim:

And the looks. so many looks. You’re not behind a camera anymore, In-ho. Gi-hun can see you.

The one that makes me laugh the most is in the last episode of S2. Gi-hun is stressed about the vote, trying to come up with a plan, and In-ho is staring so hard he’s not even blinking, to the point where Gi-hun has to look at him.

And then again. Gi-hun is explaining about the control room upstairs. Meanwhile, In-ho:

He doesn’t even glance up. He just stares at Gi-hun until Gi-hun finally looks at him. Honestly this isn’t even all of them but I don’t have everything saved.

And the ending. Honestly this part is a bit heartwrenching and I think a few of us fans ignore it (I do too), but I’m trying to contextualize canon here. It’s interesting that despite how dangerous Gi-hun is – causing the disruption of the game, killing guards, and aiming to end the games on the whole – In-ho does not kill him. He has plenty of opportunities to. He even shoots his own guards to keep Gi-hun alive (despite Gi-hun in that moment running the rebellion). But he shoots Jung-bae instead and gives Gi-hun this last lingering glance.

Arguably, you can say In-ho does all this because he is sadistic. However, if that were the sole reason, then he has 400+ people he could similarly torture every year. Hell, he could have joined the games any year he wanted, too.

If it’s just an ideological struggle, then Gi-hun lost when he decided to sacrifice the X players for the greater good. Then, we are left to wonder what else he can want with Gi-hun that he has kept him alive.

The fact that the motivations are never stated and are subtext adds a layer to how fans are free to interpret it. Lots of kindling for our fire.

(I’m not necessarily planning to prove if it’s canon in this part, it’s just a treatise on why we see their potential due to this subtext).

3. Gi-hun’s reciprocity

I think if it were just a one-sided fascinating then there would still be shippers but simply not as much. The part that hits with Inhun is that In-ho’s efforts are not necessarily “unrequited.”

In the beginning of Season 2, Gi-hun has no one. He had been isolated for three years. He has no friends. He has no home. Consider this heartwrenching shot:

Gi-hun’s on the phone, calling the only person in the world he has a connection to, and he can’t even say a word to her.

Even before this, he was largely unappreciated. His mother was disappointed in him. His ex-wife resents him. Jung-bae his friend did not help him in his time of need. Sae-byeok was only in his life for a few days, but she was rude to him for a good part of that. Sang-woo – well Sang-woo is complicated. I don’t think he meant everything he said in the fight before the end, but I do think Gi-hun is the last person on earth he wants to meet after his failures. No one really talks to him kindly besides Ali which is more of polite friendliness than looking after him.

So as a #1 Gi-hun fan, it’s really nice to see someone just genuinely seem to want Gi-hun there? Not as a last resort or as an alternative, but the first pick (in a twisted way).

And Gi-hun is so receptive to it? I made a post about this before, but Gihun is starved for affection and I don’t think all that used to being treated gently. Despite knowing In-ho for a short time, he seems so. He just kind of… opens like a flower?

The first time he laughs in this season is over In-ho’s corny last name joke.

The look in that scene in general:

How he reacts to In-ho calling by hist first name:

Or when In-ho confides in him about what happened with his wife:

Or this one, when he’s dealing with the guilt of misleading all the players, and In-ho says this:

But also the moment in mingle where Gi-hun is so worried about In-ho, Jung-bae has to drag him into a room before the timer runs out. He wanted to risk it all I tell you.

And then, when everyone is calling out to him, In-ho only calls out for Gi-hun’s attention. Literally he couldn’t care about the others. He bee-lines to Gi-hun.

Or how he looks when In-ho shoots the guard for him:

Look at his face, and In-ho’s face when he gives In-ho the gun. They’re going to kill me.

4. The versatility

Finally, this is more of a meta point but it’s kind of fun that this ship doesn’t always have to be that serious? We can go from writing about deep at times darker themes of obsession and manipulation and whatnot and then turn around and clown on them for being total losers with a crush (affectionate). Usually, it’s the same person doing it. Like me in this essay. We can also just make AUs with no squid games and still have the freedom with keep the parts we like (be it obsession or devotion or a mutual understanding) and toss out the rest, and they still make sense. They just always make sense (to me).

Honestly there are stuff I had leave out because it would just maybe at tad too long-winded (as if I didn’t talk your ear off lmao).

Again, this is not an argument on whether it’s canon or not, it’s just an explanation of fanon perspective.

[azialways]

Ronin Beaufort Character Analysis:

tw for severe autism and game spoilers

Ronin Beaufort is a character in the visual novel/dating sim game named Killer Chat! This game is a romantic simulator where the main character is a crime writer who stumbled into a serial killer group chat after being invited by a mystery man. Prior to the invitation, the MC was asking a series of suspicious questions on the dark web, where the mystery man responds and invites her. A bit later in the game, it is revealed that it was in fact, Ronin who invited MC to the server. Throughout the game, Ronin drops very subtle hints to MC that he knows their identity and that they were not a serial killer. These hints get more obvious as the game progresses, until he eventually full on told them that he knew in a private channel in the server, which he named “artistic license” as a play on words. He wouldn’t shy away from making his knowledge known, as we see throughout the game when he would pick and poke at every little thing MC says when they try to blend in. He, at one point suggested that they were “an interloper,” meaning that they were essentially a spy or someone who was trying to expose them; therefore this brought suspicion to the server. However, we also see Ronin’s softer side throughout the game. Ronin at first seems like your average cocky douchebag, however if you take his route, you see the emotional complexities he has.

Ronin talks about his backstory in one of their “Truth or Dare” sessions, which he and the MC play quite a bit. He also talks about his past love life, both with Angel and back home when he was growing up. At first, he covers up the true pain of it with humor and his typical cocky attitude, however, if MC chooses to prod at him further, you get to see the more human side to this guy who built himself a whole new persona as a coping mechanism for the pain he endured. Ronin Beaufort is Transgender, it was subtly implied in his rant about his past, however it is confirmed by the creator. Ronin grew up in an extremely reserved, conservative town where homophobia was prominent due to the high influence of the church. This was part of his debut where his new identity of being “The Devil” began to surface. Due to his strong hatred towards the church, he adapted this persona and made it his trademark alongside his serial killer name being “The Butcher.” He is also seen with an obsession with satanic imagery, the devil and the antichrist. During his route, MC can refer to him as the Antichrist as a joke, however he takes it as a compliment and enjoys the nickname. Ronin, in the timeline also has a confirmed 666 kills, which is another reference to satanism. He talks about trauma with the church and how it ruined everything with his best friend/first love. This is presumably pre-transition due to his reference to the internalized homophobia and “perfect girlhood bullshit,” as well as his line “It’s a shitty repressed Christ-loving town, What d’you think happened?” This, he said, was his breaking point, which led to him killing the priest, then “dozens more,” which then led to his path of serial killing.

However, he claims that his relationship with Angel helped him. We see a moment of the emotional human beneath the cocky surface when he talks about her. He claims that she “gave him love, a reason to live,” which means he struggled mentally at some point. It is never specified what exactly this struggle is, just that he did struggle. It was more so after this point, along with their playful banter, that he and MC started their “relationship.” The reason why the word relationship is in quotes is because his relationship with MC was a mix of them messing with and manipulating each other, even prior to the identity reveal. Ronin and MC (if choosing the most flirtatious or romantic response) will typically be seen flirting a lot, with the occasional Ronin moment of cockiness. During truth or dare, Ronin will dare MC to do things like “Tell the server you love me in main” or “DM V/Angel you have a crush on me” or even later on “Give me a kiss.” He obviously twists it around, but MC also has the option to twist it back against him, giving him similar dares or asking truths about his life for “midnight inspiration.” Overall, Ronin is a very repressed character; he hides himself behind his serial killer persona, he puts this mask on in front of everyone to make him seem all high and mighty; however he has feelings under all this. He has pushed down his trauma because he thought killing the person who caused it would solve his problems, when in reality, it only made him crazier. He’s clearly not a sociopath, because while he does exhibit the traits, he still has regard for others, he cares and loves for people deeply (as seen in both MC and Angel). While he displays obvious signs of psychopathy, it's more likely trauma induced rather than natural or “being born that way.”

Ronin, at the start of the game, would mainly just push MC’s button, trying to make them slip up at any moment; however, any time anyone got suspicious, he’d just cover it up again. This shows some emotional intelligence and a sense of care for MC, because while he loved pushing their buttons, they also pushed his in a way that made him feel matched up. Ronin clearly liked having MC around, even if he knew their true intention and real identity. At the start, he was generally fake towards MC. He was his typical cocky, annoying self, but the part that made him realize there’s something different was the way they didn’t take shit from him. They didn’t fall into his traps, but they instead fell for him, the last person he’d imagine. For a while, he played along because it likely brought him that feeling of power over them, with both knowing their identity, and having them wrapped around his finger; however, he quickly realizes that MC isn’t the total sucker he imagined, they still pushed his buttons and messed with him, but still was falling in love. This is what I believe brought Ronin into realizing that he might actually be having some sort of feeling towards MC, even if he’d rather die than admitting it. He would make claims about his feelings in chat, but I believe that was just playing into the role. I also think that he began to really see MC as a lover during Valentines after he dropped the bomb of knowing their identity, which leads into the ending of the kiss or kill. Both ways he ends with a similar reaction, showing just how much he actually felt towards MC. With the kiss option, it is shown that he never goes on to kill MC as he promised because after that kiss he realized just how much he wanted them, and how much he loved them.

[andrastepls]

A/SMR.

synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again

warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy

not proofread we die like men

Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.

The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.

Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.

A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.

The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.

It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.

He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.

It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.

• • •

She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”

She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.

“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”

Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.

He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?

He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .

There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.

She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.

Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.

Hm.

A/N: i dont know its 1am !!

[uracutieraka]

N Side

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Been crushing on each other for years

But I guess i’d just really like to know if

You feel the same way about me as I feel about you

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Shoyo Hinata x F!Reader

Tw! SMUTTYSMUT, dw tho overall fluffy! Bffs to lovers!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Synopsis; Hinata receives a surprise visit from an old friend from high school. You know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Hinata and you went wayy back.

Or so he says to everyone when they ask about you.

In reality you had only met the boy 6 years ago. At the beginning of your first year.

Sure 6 years wasnt not a while but with the way the ginger said it, it sounds as if he’d known you forever.

Like you were such a sure part of his life there could be no way you two hadn’t spent everyday together over your whole life.

Truth be told, you also referred to Shoyo in the same regards.

Since you met him it’s as if everything in this massive puzzle we call life had been put together.

Almost like you two were the remaining puzzle pieces.

Finally being put together at the center. Creating the whole picture.

That’s why you had decided for your 21st birthday you would go to visit him in Brazil.

So you called Kageyama who in turn told you off for even calling him over something so stupid as asking for Oikawa’s phone number.

“I don’t even have it y/n!”

“I know you’re lying.”

A brief moment passes before you hear clicking from what could only be his phone’s keyboard.

A huff hits your ears before the black headed boy speaks again.

“It’s in your inbox. Now stop calling me over dumb shit.”

“Yeah yeah, you know you love it when i call you.”

“Bye y/n.”

And with that he hung up, now leaving you to plot and scheme behind your best friends back.

Dialing the number in your inbox you start to second guess yourself.

I mean you dont personally know Oikawa.

Is this weird of you?

“Yello?” A chirpy voice says on the other end of the line.

Welp. Nows better than never.

“Hi. Uhm, is this Tooru?”

“Uhm, yes, who’s this?”

Damn. You forgot to introduce yourself.

“Uhm. Im y/n…Sho’s best friend?”

“Oh! Y/n! I remember you. Youre the cute little manager right? I only met you the once my third year.”

Man is this guy a chatter box or what?

“Yeah! That’s me! So look, I turn 21 next month and was wanting to come down and surprise Sho. So, I got your number from Tobio an-,”

“Ah! Tobio! My protege. He still has my number? I knew he cared about me!,” A hearty laugh over takes your phone speaker. “But hey, i’ll call you back tonight and we can arrange something for ya’! Shoyo’s only 20 feet away from me right now so now’s not the best time.”

“Perfect!”

2 ended phone calls and 3 hours later you finally received a call back from the older man.

6 hours and 1 transition to FaceTime with said man later, your whole trip was planned. Even set with Oikawa confirming plans for the day you land with Shoyo.

(Oikawa told him some friend of a friend was having a birthday dinner and party at a local bar.)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

This is so NOT going as planned.

You had just landed in the foreign land and already things were going south.

You had finally collected your luggage, 2 months worth of luggage in fact, Oikawa had somehow convinced you that a prolonged stay was imperative to ‘restoring Shoyo’s drive to do pretty much anything.”

Apparently he had been down in the dump since coming here 8 months ago.

Oikawa had explained you were the top reason mentioned.

Apparently Hinata would say he ‘just didn’t know how to live without his other half.’

When the man told you this a familiar feeling rose in your tummy, and a heat spread up your neck trailing over your cheeks.

That’s how you ended up with 2 giant suit cases, a large duffel bag, and an oversized carry-on bag full of your belongings.

And now, your uber had just called to inform you that his car had broken down, and he was infact unable to get you.

You had been redirected in the app to another driver.

Who was 50 minutes out.

You look at the time.

You had been flying for over 24 hours since you left Japan.

You decided the time it would take to wait then make the 30 minute drive into the city would eat up any hopes of you getting ready before you go meet Shoyo.

You dial Oikawa’s number, 3 rings and he picks up.

“Hey! Whatsup? You landed? How was your flight? Make it to my place yet?”

You guys decided that since he had a spare room you would crash there so as not to impede on Shoyo or his roomates lives so suddenly.

You begin explaining to him your problem.

“Hm,” you hear him start clicking his tongue, mulling over what to do. “Ok! Im on my way, share your location.”

“Wha-“

He hangs up before you can even say anything else.

So you do as he says.

He makes it to you in 15 minutes.

“That was fast!” You say as he gets out of the car.

“Eh, i have my ways.” He shrugs.

You should have understood what he meant by that.

It was a hint to prepare yourself for the ride ahead.

Your 30 minute drive was easily cut in half by the man.

You saw your life flash before your eyes at least 4 times.

“Alright, well i’ll help you with your bags then leave ya to it! The bar we’re going to is straight down the road, a 4 minute walk to be exact! So we’ll meet you there!”

He grabs your bags easily, much to your dismay and against all your arguments and protests, wanting to help.

Taking you up to the apartment you finally answer all his questions about how the flying was, and he listened to your brief rant about air fare and how it was all a scam.

Laughing and interjecting where he needed to.

He showed you around his apartment a bit, then showed you to his guest room.

It was nice, clean and organized. Surprisingly for a 23 year old bachelor pad.

Especially with the way the man acts, he’s lively and would be one to make you think his life goes by too fast to do such trivial things as make his bed.

“Wow, I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness!” You say bowing in front of him.

“No! Don’t worry about all that. Plus, it’ll be nice to get Shoyo out of this weird slump he’s been in.”

A few minutes later he leaves again, leaving you to do what you needed to do.

Going through your normal routine, you take it slower than usual, now having spared time to do so.

Finally after doing your hair and makeup perfect, you slip on your outift.

It’s simple and cute.

Skinny jeans and a slightly too-tight, to see through, and a very low-cut white tee.

A bright pink bra shows through it from how sheer the material is.

You did this on purpose, there’s no denying you had feelings for your best friend.

But you had also become slightly bolder with the distance that had been put between the two of you.

A desire to make him yours had clouded your mind ever since he left.

Though it had been there long before that, it just seemed to get worse the longer you spent separated from him.

Nights spent wondering if he was with other girls, talking to them, dancing with them, touching them.

You just couldn’t stand the thought of it.

Your ringer chimes.

‘Head this way!’

A message from Oikawa reads.

You make your way to the bar, using the pin he sent you.

He was nice enough to have a bottle of wine pushed against the pillows on your bed when you arrived.

A bow with a little note card adorned it.

‘Enjoy! Pregame a bit ;)’

You finished the bottle before you left.

And the walking had really made you start to feel it.

You were a little more than buzzed and a even newer confidence had surged in your body.

You make your way through the doors, finding the tall brunette and shorter ginger’s heads in the crowd.

You push through sweaty bodies, and a few large men.

Hell bent on reaching the man you had longed for on lonely nights, your hand wondering between your legs, wishing it was him.

Finally you make it to him.

Throwing your arms over his shoulders your hands cover his eyes.

“Guess who~” it’s sweet and sing-songy. A common greeting you two had since your second year, when you guys decided that was for some reason the funniest thing you two had ever done. (It wasn’t)

He grabs your hands spinning around, grabbing your hips.

You rock back slightly, you probably would’ve stumbled farther had it not been for his tight grip on your hips.

“No fucking way!” He yells over the music.

“I was just talking about how much I missed you!” He pulls you forward quickly, moving to grip around your shoulders in a bear hug.

You hug him back, he’s significantly stronger than before, and you can feel the muscles through his shirt.

You pull back from him.

“Let’s fucking drink bitches!” You yell to both the men.

An hour later and you and Shoyo found your way on the dance floor. You guys are facing each other and dancing care-free.

A somg comes on that you recognize. Its slow and has a 70’s funk to it.

Alcohol is pumping in your blood. You know it is for Sho too. All those nights in high school sneaking some from your parents personal collection and getting drunk in secret with the boy helped you figure out when he was and wasn’t under the influence.

You step forward closing the distance between you two.

Your hands rest on his chest as you lean forward to whisper in his ear.

“Sho, I need you.”

Its soft and whiney, you would have never said that sober.

You dont give him time to process before you turn around, pressing your back to his chest, hands flying up to touch each side of his jaw, ass pressing into him.

He takes notice of the fresh manicure on your hands, a french tip set.

He remembers in high school when you had first gotten one, he asked what it was called, and then declared it was his favorite type of nails on you.

And it was, but he wasn’t as innocent with the declaration as you thought, in fact he was far from it.

He was 17 and couldn’t help it, but the thoughts of what your hands would look like wrapped around him, with your cute little french tips was just too much for him.

He snaps out of his thought when your hips sway into him, head falling to rest on his shoulder.

You lightly drag your nails down the sides of his neck before dropping them to continue your swaying and dancing on him.

He moves his hands to fall on your hips, now swaying with you, leaning down he answers you.

“Then come home with me.”

It’s simple, but you know this will change everything. Every dynamic you two have ever had will become something different. Something intense and exciting.

Lust has filled your head, you’re running on pure adrenaline and alcohol. His scent is filling your nose, his warmth is burning on your skin, you’re overwhelmed with all of this.

You spin back around and pull him off the dance floor by his hand, you make your way back to Tooru who hasn’t moved from his spot. But a cute blonde now fills the seat Shoyo once sat in, chatting away with Oikawa.

Shoyo goes up to him, still holding your hand, leaning down he whispers a few words to the other man. Stepping away you see Oikawa give him a wink and thumbs up.

As you both are leaving Oikawa calls out.

“Dont get too crazy kids!”

You chuckle as you’re being dragged along by the ginger.

You didn’t realize Shoyo lived in the same building as Oikawa.

Only a floor apart.

You make it to his door and it seems like something in him breaks, he pushes you against the door in the hallway, kissing you.

You grab at his shoulders.

Moaning into his lips, he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips, yours now intertwining with his.

Your hands find their way into his hair as his hands grab at your ass then make their way under your thighs, lifting you up.

You’re now being held between the door and him.

He’s grinding up into you, he’s moving so fervently that you don’t even care if he took you, right here and right now.

He wouldn’t be your first, but you hope he’s your last.

He breaks away from you.

“Not here,” his chest is heaving up and down quickly. “Gonna do this, you, right baby.”

He’s so confident compared to back in school.

Or maybe he’s always been like this and you were just the nervous one.

None of that matters now.

He’s opened the door and guided you inside.

“My roommates working tonight.” He says, now you really study him.

His eyes are blown out, cheeks red, from you or the alcohol is unclear, hes really filled out in the past few months since he’s been here. His hair is slightly longer too.

“Sho,” you say. “I’ve really missed you these past few months. I’ve also had a lot of time to think about things,” you step towards him, putting your arms around his neck you slide closer, having to stand on your tippy toes a bit to get close to being eye level with him. Your eyes are heavy, lids half closed. “I really want to fuck you.” Its low and sultry.

The way you’re looking at him, the sound of your voice, your outfit. The pink bra he recognizes as one he had been eyeing on a shopping trip with you.

You two had gone to the mall together a few weeks before he left, last minute shopping for his big move.

You dragged him into a bra and panty store last second, due to the large sale sign sitting in front of the door.

As you looked around, Shoyo’s eyes were caught off guard by a bright pink fabric. He moved closer to eye it.

It was lacy and the color was perfect.

He pictured you in it, how good it would look on you.

He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help it.

“That bra,” he breathes out. “It’s the one from the mall back home.”

“You think I didn’t see you looking at it in the store? Plus it’s cute. Right?”

He chuckles a bit before locking eyes with you.

“You’re cute.” He says.

You blush and go to turn your head but before you can he cups the side of your face, turning you back to face him.

He pulls you back in for another kiss. Yet again he picks you up and your legs wrap around his waist. He leads you to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

Still holding the slow and sloppy kiss he lays you down oh the blankets.

You’re immediately engulfed in a comforting and familiar smell.

All the days and nights spent in his room, sleeping over, laying together much closer than best friends should.

Feet entangled under the blankets as you two face each other and giggle over nothing.

Now this is different, not sweet and innocent, no, its much more than that, this is sinful and gluttonous.

He’s on top of you leaving wet, hot kisses down your jaw and neck, following the collar of your v-neck, he kisses the exposed parts of your breasts.

Once he reaches the point in the v he stops, only to start pulling your shirt up, you sit up right and quickly discard of it. He guides his hand up to trace the hem of the bra gently for a moment, before grabbing your face and pulling you back in.

You reach back up to cup his face in both your hands, pulling him closer to you.

He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your jeans with ease.

“Take these off.”

Its stern and desperate.

You immediately obey and move to stand in front of him.

You face him and make a show out of discarding your pants.

You turn around, back now facing him, and slowly you shimmy your pants down, bending over to pull them down, slowly, arching a bit as you do.

Once the pants are at your ankles, you stand back up even slower.

Finishing your little tease act, you turn back around.

Shoyo’s eyes are wide and it seems like he’s malfunctioning.

“Sho?” You say, sweet as could be.

“You are so fucking sexy, holy fucking shit.” A smile now crosses his face.

A giggle escapes your lips.

“C’mere,” he stands up grabbing you gently, hands wrapping themselves around you before he quickly does a 180° with you in his arms.

You squeal as he yet again pins you under him.

“But really, who d’ya think you are showing up here, wearing a cute lil’ bra, nails done how i like, oh, and not to mention, these cute panties to match! Y’know im starting to think you only came here to have sex with me.” He says, he’s always been bold but you didn’t expect him to be like this.

“Mhm,” you nod your head no. “I came here because I missed you Sho.”

He smiles at the admission. Standing up to pull his shirt off, he loses his breath when he looks down.

You’re on your elbows, legs tucked up so your knees are in the air. You’re eyes are heavy and seductive. The way you’re positioned and looking at him is pornographic.

He literally moans out loud before ripping off his shirt, then he quickly pushes his pants off.

Eagerly he crawls back over you.

“M’gonna fuck you so good.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, you’ve only seen him like this before a volleyball match.

He yet again captures your lips, kissing down you again, this time though, he trails down your stomach stopping at the top of your underwear.

But instead of taking them off he pushes your underwear to the side.

He spits onto your already wet heat.

You gasp at the sensation then cut yourself off with a small whimper when he slides a finger up and down you.

He stands up, pulling you to the edge of the bed. He drops his underwear, stroking himself for a second before spitting on his hand and continuing the motions.

“I think you’re ready f’me baby. Don’t you?” He says it so condescendingly, like he doesn’t think youre actually ready.

“Please Sho, need you s’bad.”

He groans rolling his head back for a moment before he pushes your underwear back over.

He guides his tip to go up, causing a slight moan to leave your mouth.

“No teasing!” You say quickly.

He chuckles, “Ok, ok, I wont.”

He lines himself up and pushes into you.

He girthy and bigger than you expected.

Definitely the biggest you’d ever had.

“F-fuck! You’re so fucking tight oh my god.” He’s breathing raggedly.

He sits still in you for a moment until you rock your hips forward.

“Move Sho.” You say.

And he does.

He’s throwing you in insane positions you didn’t even know you could do.

But as his thrusts get sloppier he stops, flipping you over to be in missionary.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, breathless.

“Shh, im not stopping.” He says.

Suddenly he has you pinned down. Legs spread wide, as he presses over you.

Arms hooked around the backs of your knees as you’re now in a mating press.

He bottoms back out into you.

“Ah! Fuck! Feels s’good Sho!”

He’s selfish. He knows he is.

Who is he to throw you in 8 different positions in the past 40 minutes? Twisting you and contorting you in crazy ways.

It’s your doing. You and him both know that.

You came to Brazil, surprised him, wore a matching set, had your nails done just the way he likes. Not to mention the multiple times you had straight up said you wanted to sleep with him over the course of the night.

He picks up the pace, he’s moving out of you so quickly and harshly, your eyes are rolled into the back of your head.

Your moaning a jumble of his name and other gibberish, which he assumes is supposed to be words.

“Baby,” he speaks through his teeth. “Need ya’ to cum fa’ me. Cant keep going much longer m’self.” Its broken up through his grunts and smacks of his hips onto you.

You werent even really close so it surprised you that his simple words seemed to completely take you over the edge.

You’re shaking and calling his name loudly, nails gripping his sheets.

He continues his rough pace, until he yet again slows down, his groans are getting louder and whiney.

“F-fuck! M’gonna cum!” He’s now folded over you, forehead touching yours.

“In me Sho! Cum in me baby!” You say, moaning at just the thought of him filling you up.

“Ah! Fuck!” He slows his movements down. Adjusting so your legs now rest around his waist. He drops his full weight on you.

Your hands make their way to his hair, playing with it between your fingers.

You’re both breathing heavily.

“Sho?”

“Mm?”

“Can we be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He shifts his head so his chin is resting on your stomach as he now makes eye contact with you.

“I was just about to ask you that!”

Small, love-drunk and real-drunken giggles fill the room.

The mans breathing slowly gets softer and softer.

Its only when he hums a bit and rubs his face on you, in a weak attempt at getting closer, that you realize he’s in fact asleep.

Masterlist

[extremely-judgemental]

Long Post

As heinous as the initial sexual assault UtM was, the reenactment of it is worse. Feyre never exhibits any response to this trauma in any way throughout the books. Rhysand spent the most time with her, Rhysand abused her the most, Rhysand put her in most of the dangers, and yet, it’s interesting the ones that haunt her are the cruel creatures and the imprisonment.

Reminders before you continue. Trauma manifests in different ways and there is no concrete manual to determine when or how it happens. We are not debating or refuting if the characters were truly abused. We are looking into Feyre’s reactions and choices rather than her words as people can’t/don’t/won’t explicitly state them. Given the context in the books, this is more of a speculation on how it would/should have impacted her and if this reflects in her behaviour. And reiterating so there are no idiotic comments later: If someone drugged another in real life with the sole intention to touch them in any way without consent, they’d be registered as a sex offender and be in prison.

Unlike other violence, sexual abuse is a conscious choice. There is no losing control, there is no unintentional inflicting of pain, there is no misunderstanding.

Since abuse is too strong a word for this fandom, Rhysand chooses to violate Feyre physically, sexually, and mentally. Night after night. It is a deliberate act that serves no purpose in his grand schemes to free Prythian.

His reason falls short as well since Tamlin—known for his unrivalled temper—is preyed upon by Amarantha since his youth, carries the guilt and burden of being the only one who can undo the curse, chooses to sacrifice his court for his love, and is forced to watch his partner go through impossible trials to save him and his people. He has plenty to be enraged about without this hideous show.

At this point, Rhysand already suspects Feyre to be his mate. This treatment of stripping her naked and parading her in front of an audience shows his lack of respect for her. Even without that little detail, it shows how little he regards one’s body and dignity.

These shadow the two other key moments in his abuse. After the second task, when the reality sets in and Feyre spirals from the pressure, Rhysand forces himself onto her and kisses her. He ‘distracts’ her from the pain with more trauma. Which is repeated when Amarantha finds them alone the night before the third task. Over and over again Rhysand pushes Feyre’s boundaries with her body.

The sexual abuse Feyre suffers is seen along the same vein as physical abuse when the former is more profound and leaves deeper roots. It’s how Rhysand has been getting away with it in the narrative.

This is also treated as a one-off experience in her life that doesn’t affect her psyche which is funny because sex is one of her coping mechanisms since the beginning. She has an intimate relationship with an engaged man without emotional attachment, using him as an outlet for her frustration and pain during the poverty days.

Feyre never had a healthy relationship with anyone. The only times she had a genuinely loving experience was with Tamlin—once before he sent her away, and once right after her transformation.

Now, this very medium is turned against her and wielded by Rhysand to exert control over her and Tamlin. However, when she turns into fae, Feyre easily falls back into her old patterns and escapes her problems through sex. Moreover, in less than a year, she moves onto another partner instigating sexual encounters with none other than her abuser and this relationship begins with replaying her abuse.

The moment in CoN is meant to mark Feyre’s transition from a lost, traumatised individual to a confident woman worthy to be Rhysand’s counterpart. It’s anything but that.

Feyre is drugged UtM to ensure she doesn’t remember the events that follow. The pieces she remembers are being dressed and escorted to the court room and paraded until she drinks the wine.

The same sequence of events happen now. The premise is same. Rhysand wears the same mask. Feyre is in similar clothing. Feyre is escorted by Rhysand. UtM was modelled after CoN. The people of CoN react the same way, looking down on her and judging her. The only changed factor, Feyre is conscious through the entire ordeal this time.

The similarities in the situations should be jarring, triggering even, but Feyre shows no signs of it. She kneels for Rhysand, lets him pleasure her, and she reciprocates the desire and lust. She doesn’t have to fake it. (IIRC she even admires herself in that dress)

Minds are fickly, especially traumatised ones. They will constantly try to fill the holes left by their past. As someone who doesn’t remember a single moment of her abuse, to relive the same instance but devised as her own consenting scheme, Feyre’s mind will confuse the two. By the end of the night, she feels empowered. The very things that traumatised her for two months is imprinted in her brain as her claiming her own life. Over time, with more consequent role plays, it will be cemented as her only reality.

Though she consents to it, this prevents Feyre from coming to terms with her trauma on her own in her own time.

By reenacting the scene, Rhysand normalises and trivialises the assault. In doing so, he denies Feyre the mere comprehension of what she endured. It’s also interesting it’s after this show that she learns of the mating bond and receives an ‘apology’. But she won’t be associating it with her real pain or confusion she felt UtM instead what she lived in CoN.

Even if the memories are erased, the feelings should remain with her. The dread, the shame, the sinking feeling that something wrong is about to happen. Trauma lives in the body until it’s addressed. It should trigger some sort of pavlovian effect since the torture repeated like clockwork for two months. The moment she sees herself in the dress, her body should be anticipating the hit of drug. Her mind is awaiting the reward that follows the humiliation, only this time instead of wine, it’s sexual pleasure. (Feyre should’ve been addicted to it since faerie wine is more potent for a mortal. Or she shouldn’t be enjoying it at all since it would signal impending doom but she indulges in it as much as Morrigan.)

On another note, this might have also triggered the habit of shutting her mind off whenever Feyre is forced to confront difficult situations. She exhibits this behaviour often after she was turned. Not saying she wasn’t egoistical to begin with but this could’ve worsened her.

There is no blatant signs of this but the lack of discomfort or repulsion towards Rhysand’s touch shows she could be dissociating. Feyre has always seen her body as a weapon to be used. She is so disconnected that she doesn’t see it as a part of herself. Being unaware of the true extent of the torture on top of its psychological impact, she might have started seeing it as a vessel for others’ pleasure.

This explains why she is unfazed when Rhysand makes a crude comment in front of Tarquin, agrees to play the same role again without any of the negative triggers, and every other sexual fantasises.

For someone whose body is constantly reduced to a sex object which can be exploited by anyone, starting with her partner, it’s not surprising Feyre wasn’t furious when Rhysand kept the truth about the pregnancy from her.

This applies to her child as well. Though she carried him, their fate was Rhysand’s to decide. Nyx is and never will be his own person, instead an extension of her mate in more ways than one since Feyre wanted a child only to keep a part of Rhysand alive.

Her sense of identity is severely damaged and she is deriving her worth from how she benefits Rhysand. (I know there’s proof for this somewhere, I’m just too exhausted to dive deep into this)

The problem is not whether Feyre is experiencing trauma in this specific way, but it’s that she isn’t affected at all. Her only response she openly admits to is her deep fear and hatred for enclosures when she lived through so many horrors, all inflicted by the same man she calls her mate. With her memory erased, she is stripped off the ability to ever process it, let alone heal from it.

One of the main reasons their relationship works is Feyre sees the absolute worst of Rhysand first. His words and actions after that—taunting Tamlin, treating Nesta poorly, the state of Hewn City and Illyria—will still be perceived as his compassion and leniency. And any doting she receives from him is pure love. The standard is so low that not being abused is kindness.

It’s quite sad Feyre never had the chance to sit with her pain and accept what she was subjected to and by whom. She never learnt what she lived through and what was being asked of her in CoN. How can she forgive someone when she doesn’t know what they did to her? Saying she does isn’t equivalent to doing the actual work of healing.

The act in CoN is not a reclamation of her power, that’s another coping mechanism seen in SA victims as some tend to hypersexualise themselves as a means to gain control over her body and life.

Rhysand also exhibits this behaviour in his monologue when he recounts his experience with Amarantha. Given he craves control over every aspect of his life, framing the narrative in his favour is the only way he can convince himself that he wasn’t a complete victim and helpless. Had his victimisation for fifty years warped how he saw someone’s agency or approach to sex itself, his actions would be understandable. But he claims to know the pain and consequences as he lived it himself.

And when Rhysand shares his side of the story, he doesn’t even say the words. He doesn’t directly acknowledge what he did. He denies her the courtesy to have all the facts laid out for her so Feyre can decide if she truly wants him in her life.

It’s disrespectful to both these characters and their journey who have deep wounds around how their bodies were perceived, to be exploited in the most vulnerable way possible. CoN severely affects how they connect with each other and form a meaningful bond. They don’t and never will have an honest love as the foundation of their relationship is denial of their past.

Rhysand isn’t a mastermind who created a perfect wife with his elaborate strategies. However, he is a liar whose goal is to escape any immediate consequences and Feyre is more than willing to go along with it as it allows her to bury her pain instead of facing it.

Also, these align very well with the misogynistic values perpetuated throughout the books and so it’s almost indistinguishable. These could very well be Feyre’s beliefs from the beginning or an aftermath of her experiences. Either way, Feyre is not healed. She only locked away her painful memories. And when she finally addresses them, her perfect life will fall apart so much so she’d wish she was still living her poverty days with her sisters.

If this seems like an exaggeration, most of the readers fell for it too. So, clearly, it works. I wouldn’t credit SJM for all of this as she definitely didn’t plan this out this well. But the scene in CoN was not just her kink, it was necessary to gaslight the readers. If Feyre enjoyed it when she was conscious, she must have enjoyed it while drugged too, right?

[hopeless-avo]

AU | SY Transmigrates as Someone Else | WQW Edition

ヾ⁠(⁠*⁠’⁠Ｏ⁠’⁠*⁠)⁠/~

In this world, when attempting to transfer SY into SQQ, the system glitches.

This glitch happens as the ‘SQQ villain’ role is still occupied, meaning SQQ would have still been present in his body, probably being able to counteract/treat the Qi deviation when it started, as he had some magical herb or another that he had on him due to his previous occurrences and history of bad deviations, so he survives.

SY is just there in the system’s waiting room, watching this screen and text glitch out.

He questions this malfunctioning system on wtf it wants him to do /who he would have become, cause come on, obviously he was gonna be isekai’ed and has suspicions on where he would be going as of what he was going off about and the voices he heard before he expired.

He chooses to shelve his panic and grief for later when he has time to process and mourn once he removes himself from whatever the fuck this situation is, cause like duh, he is dead he’ll never see his family againohmygod-

Anyways, he finds out that he would have been placed in SQQ’s body and nope what the hell do you want me to die?!?! and tries to see if he could be anyone else, ‘cause like come on, it’s PIDW!

He wants to at least be able to see all the cool flora and fauna if he has no choice of what world he will be living in, and although living as a woman may mean he gets to live longer, there is the threat of the heavenly pillar and the sudden transition of living as a man to a woman would be just too jarring.

So! After the system sorta relents at seeing that this guy is giving it another way to operate as well as saving its ass from being taken to see its higher-ups, it gives a list of potential other people that he can become that sorta has similar power and potential to affect the plot as being SQQ would have granted, although never as much given SQQ’s natural predisposition.

SY gets given the choice of LQG, QQQ, The Old Palace Master, Gongyi Xiao, and a few others.

Given his desire of wanting to live a relatively alive existence, he forgoes the more plot-present characters, such as Gongyi Xiao and The Old Palace Master, as well as LQG (cause he does not want to get shanked by SQQ, please and thank you), and due to previous arguments and reasons, he forgoes QQQ.

He looks over the remaining names and sees WQW, a character that doesn’t actually appear or get mentioned much in PIDW, is known to be the peak lord of the sword-forging peak, has massive muscles and has literally, like, one line when LBH got sent over and picked up Zheng Yang.

Additionally, the guy owns that sword that can tell if someone is possessed, so he would only have to stay away from the thing if the system doesn’t ensure that he can’t be ousted as such.

With this, SY as WQW would be living his best life as this guy bc he can fly on his sword all day and stay away from the plot while planning his escape when Cang Qiong Mountain Sect sets alight!

So with his choice made, SY, now WQW, wakes up half-disorientated, his forearms aching and the sounds of crying children and concerned/panicked teenagers.

After he gets dragged to Qian Cao Peak, the still-glitching system gives him the rundown of the situation of how he entered his new body; apparently Original!WQW got caught up in trying to stop a disciple from experimenting with volatile sword materials and the forge blew up as he tried to do damage control after he got everyone out, gaining a head injury and leaving him with plausible temporary amnesia, in addition to a sort of broken/glitched OOC lock that gradually corrupts over time till it's gone due to the vague understanding of the guy.

SY|WQW [we’ll just call him WQW from now on] realised that he was placed in PIDW a few months before the disciple choosing where LBH officially enters the sect, gets picked, and then is abused by SQQ [future him problem!!!] and although he doesn’t want LBH to face all those injustices, the system will not let him take purposeful actions to change certain plot points in the face of system punishment.

After he is fully released from Qian Cao Peak, he is expected by both the sect and mandated by the system to attend the disciple choosing.

While watching the poor children climb the massive staircase and start digging their hole to the best of their ability in an attempt to become a part of the prestigious sect and change the course of their life which they would most likely wish they didn’t join when LBH sets this place on fire…and sees what he thinks is a smol fluffy girl who has the determination and a spark in her eye attempting to dig a massive hole meticulously to catch the eye of a peak lord.

He runs through each wife in LBH’s harem to see if he can match this cute jie-jie with, and can’t seem to match her.

Looking around, he takes note that the other peak lords are overlooking her, seemingly disinterested or glancing her over with slight disgust at her thoroughly worn-through but obviously meticulously cleaned-up/washed clothing.

His eyeing had caught the eye of a little girl, most likely NYY who stood next to who he could only assume to be SQQ. She asks SQQ something about having a new martial sibling, which draws the attention of both SQQ and LQG to the girl.

Obviously having changed something as now NYY is eyeing this girl instead of her future demon harem husband system don’t punish me, as well as placing this jie-jie in the lane of SQQ, who is eyeing her with an unnamed but obviously not good look cause this cute girl is in front of a lecherous man as well as in the sight of LQG who wow has such a womanly visage I'd have thought that he would be more gruff who is set to die off in a few years and is peak lord of a boyish and brutish peak which he doesn't think that such a pretty jie-jie should be on, there is only one thing he can do!

So, at the end of the day, he ends up picking this smol bean before these ppl can get their hands on her, as obviously she wasn’t accepted in the original PIDW and if she had lived would have most likely ended up as a harem member, cause no way would such a cute bean not grow up and not catch the eye of LBH!

Obviously he won't let her suffer such a fate or leave her in the hands of SQQ. This causes some of his martial siblings to side-eye him, as he has a history of choosing more well-built candidates and not skinny dirty runts that look like death-warmed-over.

This smol jie-jie has sparkles in her eyes as she gets called over by one of WQW’s runners, which light up more the closer she gets to her new to-be-Shuzin!!! HIM!

WQW feels proud of his choice and decides that that is enough of tempting fate and the system, so he turns to leave, promising himself to ensure this little jie-jie lives her best life away from the plot [and LBG and his harem] on his peak!

…not seeing the system glitching and erroring to hell and back, not able to punish him as it was not a purposeful choice and raging in its system space at the hell that its higher-ups would put it through.

All because SY|WQW didn’t take note of the child’s outerwear. :)