#That so should have been a red flag like immediATELY

[metranart]

Squid Game AU - JJK Shameless Smut

ft. Yuji x Reader (Nanami/Gojo/Geto and Toge x Reader in complete version)(teaser)

Your hands were shaking too much, you should have died but that pink-haired man saved you. Green light, red light was your favorite game when you were little, but that memory had already been overwritten with this massacre. 

This wasn't a normal game, and even though the rules said that if everyone voted it could be stopped, no one really wanted to leave, not with so much money at stake. What did that say about you?! Your breathing became more labored, your pulse became erratic, you felt cold sweats, you were a ball rocking back and forth in your bed, but instead of feeling better, you felt worse and worse, everything slowly becoming a blur-

"You're about to have a panic attack," It was him again, player number one, the one who saved your life less than five minutes ago. You recognized him immediately, that deep shade of pink styled in an undercut haircut was unmistakable, so cute, it even looked like he had teased it with pomade or a hairspray to mess it up. That sports suit couldn't hide the muscular body underneath. Broad back, big but elegant hands, with a friendly and trustworthy aura. You shouldn't be thinking about that when you were about to faint, ".... if you let me, I can help you."

He suggested, did he wanted to save you again? Really?? who were you to refuse? Your head nodded slightly and before you knew what was happening, your body was already between his open legs, he had climbed onto your bed placing himself behind you and wrapping your small body in his large one. Your back against his strong chest, his head hanging over yours, protectively.

"Feel my breathing and imitate it." This gentle creature suggested calmly, "you can do it, everything is fine, you are fine. I will take care of you." He was saying all the right words, everything anyone would want to hear. He didn't seem scared and that was saying something. You slowly began to relax, the tension in your muscles melting away within the safe embrace of this kind stranger.

"My name is Yuji," he murmured next to your ear, with your eyes closed, his voice sounding deeper, "I'm sure you have a pretty name-"

He was trying to distract you, to comfort you with small talk.

"(Y/N)." It was barely a whisper, but he was paying so much attention to you that he heard it clearly. "I knew it was pretty." 

His cheerful and honest reaction completely brought you out of this nightmare, slowly rocking you within his strong embrace. "Are you feeling better now, (Y/N)?" His question came a few minutes later, once your breathing was calm and pleasant. You slowly opened your eyelids and looked up, where you found him peeking at you from his vantage point, watching you, analyzing you with that gentle, friendly gesture stamped on his handsome face.

"Yeah, thank you," your words now slurred, lazy, "I feel much better, Yuji."

You could almost swear you felt Yuji shiver, the hairs on his arm standing on end, making you wonder what caused it.

"I didn't expect my name to sound so nice in your voice," he chuckled a little embarrassed, realizing you noticed his not-so-subtle reaction, still numb you smiled weakly at him, too comfortable in his arms to notice that detail.

"Seriously, thank you." You repeated, honestly touched, "I'm crushing you, if you want, I can move-"

"You don't bother me," he spat quickly, "...you don't weigh anything, I mean-..." were you making him nervous?  "I... I'd just like to-... let's wait a little longer like this, I feel like you're still a little shaken up. Of course, only if it’s okay with you."

You had never met someone so kind, usually the extra kind were also the ones you had to be more careful with, not knowing if their intentions were true, but this time you gave him the benefit of the doubt. You felt so comfortable and safe curled up next to him that you didn't care, you didn't acknowledge the red flags: the unnecessary possessiveness with which he held you close to him, the murderous glances he sent to any other contestant who dared to lay eyes on you, how he sniffed your hair on the sly and tangled it between his fingers, you were blind to all these curiosities, all in order, of this little piece of heaven. So warm and comfortable and… safe.

Yuji quickly became your shoulder to cry on and even faster he became your safe place, both of you had chosen high beds, side by side, to talk, eat and be together, friends in arms… But that very night you needed more than a friend or an ally.

Yuji opened his sleepy eyelids just to find you watching him from your bed. Hugging your blankets to your chest.

"Is something wrong?” he murmured softly, “Do you want me to accompany you to the bathroom?" asked in a soft, only-to-your-ears hush. 

You shook your head, and the darkness did not allow him to see the blush forming on your face. “I had a nightmare… can I sleep with you?”

It was a mostly innocent proposition, or so you told yourself, refusing to accept the hidden urgent need your body demanded to vent, after seeing all those corpses piling up and you miraculously escaping alive. You wanted to dissipate that energy, rather your body demanded it… and Yuji was so nice, so handsome, so thick and wide… so suitable for the job.

A soft smile took over his lips, no words were needed, he simply opened the sheets for you to enter, and you did, quickly making yourself at home snuggling up against his strong chest.

“A-are you comfortable?” he asked, a little worried about how small you were compared to him, not wanting to crush you.

“Very,” you conceded, snuggling closer and he grinned, pleased. 

You both pretended to sleep for a couple of awkward minutes. Eyes closed, breathing evenly, still, it wasn’t what you were going for, not tonight.

You almost felt bad when, as you pretended to settle more comfortably, you pressed your ass against his crotch. Snuggling his bulge into your warmth, Yuji managed to suppress the moan in time, but you could clearly hear him grit his teeth. His breathing slowly quickened, you did it again, smearing yourself innocently from top to bottom, enjoying the feeling of growing from flaccid to hard, to rock hard. His breathing became a hot mess. The effort to hold back increased by a factor of a thousand.

".... If you let me,” you whispered with cotton candy sweetness, “I can help you."

Using the same words he had used with you. Yuji let out a quiet chuckle under his breath before letting out a shaky, f-fuck between his tight lips.

“-I won’t be able to control myself, (Y/N).” He warned you and only his voice, completely husky and deep, told you how needy you had made him, how much you craved a sweet release too…luckily for him, you needed it even more.

“Everyone is already asleep,” you tempted him, “no one will hear us if we stay quiet.” You turned around and kissed your next words to the soft skin of his neck, “—…tomorrow we could be dead, so what does it matter?”

Yuji didn’t need to hear another word as he was already on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress. Eagerly bucking his hips against your warm center over your pants, your face hugged by his strong palms as he stole your breath, kiss after kiss after kiss.

Without warning, you squeezed his erect cock over the fabric of his pants and he groaned hoarsely. A tender laugh accompanied your quiet ‘shhhhhh’, making him chuckle and press his forehead against yours. Those brown eyes were now pools of unbridled lust, no gentleness in them.

“You're a breath of fresh air, (Y/N)-..." Yuji said, lost in thought, as if it were a revelation, as if he had been waiting for you all his life, "... I swear that if we get out of here alive, I’ll follow you everywhere… just point the way.”

You caressed his cheek tenderly with your thumb, looking straight into those honest eyes. He was pouring his heart out to you, but this wasn’t the place nor the time to make such promises, you barely know each other but given the circumstances you could easily understand the intensity of his statement, "-first, we have to get out of here alive."

He smirked. "Deal."

The pink-haired didn’t waste any more time, within seconds he was pulling his shirt over his head, even in the dim light you could see how muscular and ripped his torso was, a damn work of art. Biting your lip, he straddled you, so his hands slowly slid under your shirt, searching for your breasts.

“Oh, so soft and nice, gorgeous.” Yuji praised softly, squeezing in a provocative, exploratory manner and when you mewled, his smile grew bigger. Yuji licked his lips, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, staring into your eyes the whole time, holding your gaze, gauging your reactions, what you liked, how you liked it.

“Perfect fit,” he boasted, marveling, “we are SO made for each other.” Handful after handful of your breast making him painfully HARD. You were tailor-made for him. 

Those little moans of yours throwing him off balance sooner than anticipated, the clothes had to come off, and shuffling a little with your clothes, a huge smile curved his lips as he finally had you naked and at his mercy.

"What a glorious sight." 

A quiet mhmmm sound rumbled in gentle encouragement for him to keep going, and then he took just one more second to admire you, etching you into his soul.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you have me under your spell.”

Such a cute smile from you could almost make him explode inside his pants, but instead, he cleared his throat, kicked his pants down, and tightened his hold on your body, dragging you up with his forearms until you were straddling his thick erection. 

“I can try to be gentle.” He brushed your lips with the whispered words, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Yuji,” his name trembled on your lips. “You can take me however you want as long as you make me forget this place…” You lowered your hips and smeared your wet pussy all over his throbbing cock, coating it with your juices for easy access. “I want you to make me feel good.” You felt vulnerable, not enough for him to be taking advantage, but enough to let him have you as he wanted. “Don’t hold back.”

Yuji looked like something took over him, desire reflected deep in his brown eyes, and you couldn't look away from him.

“Definitely, mine.” His husky voice said above you. “Then, I'll take care of you.” 

You arched your back as you felt him enter you, slow and sure, letting you feel every ridge of his thick cock stretching you like no one had ever done before.

"Halfway there, pretty," he growled breathlessly, already dizzy from how tight you were. "...fucking tight, little thing. I ne-need to go... ball's deep inside you, baby..." his hips pushed your legs wider, excitement dancing in his eyes, always inspecting your face for any sign of discomfort, earning inch by inch, "Oh, I'm gonna-..." your breath hitched, and toes curled, "---I’m gonna fill you up gooood."

Muffling the cry into his shoulders, you feel awfully full and cramped. Yuji was huge, like a forearm entering you.

“This,” Yuji managed, finally bottoming out inside you, “this is fucking heaven.”

You gasped, close to tears just from the effort of keeping it in, "...move," you hated how needy you sounded. “Good girl.” He murmured, obviously appreciating your efforts. “I know you can take it, (Y/N) …”

He grabbed your hips and forced you to slide up and down his thickness, knocking the wind out of you when you felt the amazing friction. The obscene noises you hear coming from his parted lips a hundred times more exciting that him fucking you like this, raw and deep, without an inch of fucking restraint, forcing that thick, vulgar cock all the way out only to plunge back into the hilt, again and again and again, picking up the speed a little with each thrust.

“A-Are you still with me?” Yuji chuckled breathlessly, checking out your flushed cheeks, your sweaty forehead, your eyeballs rolled to the back of your skull, already drunk on cock, yet you took it like a champ. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, pleased, “don't faint on me just yet.” 

You had summoned this frenzied exhilaration in him, now you were responsible for squeezing every last drop out of him, keeping it inside and giving him a whole litter.

Rough fingers kept you effectively anchored to his groin, too marveled with the way your breast bounced in time with his frantic pounding. He could only grin like a madman in response to your pathetic expression as he continued to unleash ruin on your helpless and completely conquered cunt.

“Y’know,” he said conversationally, disturbingly stretched grin and unfaltering brown gaze betraying his jovial tone and innocently cocked head, “I’m really glad, I got into these games… as a player, for once.”

As a player?... The little mind you had at that moment didn't know how to interpret his words. For once?... Wasn't there only one person who could win the game? Has he been here before? 

All these doubts didn't have much time to bear fruit, as soon this position bored him and you squirmed, face first against the soft mattress as his hot, sweaty and terribly muscled body pinned you to the sheets, his hips never skipping a single thrust.

"I like you better like this," he said more to himself than you. “You likin' it, pretty?” he kissed the question on the side of your face, holding you firm and still, his large hands like handcuffs around your wrists, “you like how deep I can go? Can you see how you’re panting for it.”

This Yuji seemed different, truly condescending and possessive, not the gentle, safe guy who had comforted you hours ago. To your surprise, it wasn’t unwelcome, he knew how to put you in your place, and he definitely knew how to make you cum, because his thumb had slid under your bodies and almost like a bloodhound found your clit, which he now bullied with circles, fast or extra slow, reading you like an expert until you saw nothing but starlight and fireworks.

“Ahhhh-…” 

Your delirious moan was muffled by one of his large palms, while the other held both of your wrists inside without any problem, his cock undoing you throughout the convulsing and completely spasmodic orgasm. Making you squirt like crazy, which only helped make the friction more pleasurable and easier.

“Such a good girl…” Yuji cooed, and a moan escaped your lips, his praise making your gummy walls tighten around him. “Now, I’m going to cum inside you.”

He told you, but you could barely register what he was saying, too far gone on your high from being used. A dopey grin plastered on your muffled lips, and he let go, only to grab your chin, tilting you up to make you look at him, your eyes bright in a permanent daze. “That was just the beginning, are you sure you can handle the rest?”

“I-I’m sure,” your voice shook but your resolve didn’t. You wanted to feel him cum inside you, your body rocking and shuddering, just to the thought of it.

“Then-… eyes on me. Always watching me. Look at me while I claim you. Look at me when I make you cum.” You didn’t know how to look away, and he smirked. “Look at me or I’ll die.”  

He gave you a wet, sloppy thrust pumping his cock into you and then fucked you stupid for the rest of the fucking night, bending you over in every possible position he could think of, cumming inside you over seven times, leaving your belly full of his cum. It was amazing, it was an incredible feat… but the real feat was cleaning up afterward, and yet somehow, he did it, alone, because at some point in the night you passed out.

A huge grin on your lips the only indication that you had been fucked to exhaustion. That and the video from the security cameras that saw absolutely everything…

“What an interesting player we have in these games,” said the square mask to his most loyal guards, who grinned mischievously beneath their triangle masks, licking their lips like cats eyeing a bowl of sweet milk that was no doubt meant for them. “I agree with player one, what a glorious sight this little player is, we’ll have to keep a close eye on her.”

....READ THE 10,000 WORD FIC COMMISSION IN HERE! (Includes NSFW art from scenes of the fic and lots of smut. Plus, lot of JJK NSFW content in general) ;)

[nyxtickled]

I’m so shocked to hear all that’s been going on with this dude, but I’m so proud of you! This must be so hard for you, but clearly you are better off and have so many great people in your corner! Sending love <3

Are you able to share any of the “warnings” you got from people previously (aside from the few people you mentioned)? Like was he really just acting like this to everyone? It’s so crazy to me that this happened to others too - sociopath vibes. It’s scary that this was hidden for so long!! Can’t trust anyone :( also, I’m loving the screenshot evidence and I think it really helps to paint a clear picture of how a predator can hide like that.

Again, sending so much love! Also p.s. he fucked up big time with you, he lost a good one!!!

thank you for the love, it means so much! the good news is, i was fucked up over it for a short bit, but i feel nothing but relief and closure now.

absolutely - here are some of the warnings i received, which i was later talked out of after approaching him:

i included some of my responses to the reddit user who tried to warn me as well, just to sort of verify how i was immediately taken aback and i could immediately disprove the claims being made about me. the reddit convo was actually what led to the biggest conflict i shared about in my og community warning post. those messages were what led me to say “hey so i am being told some things that make me really uncomfortable, but my dog is literally dying so i don’t have the capacity to discuss it rn, i just need space.” the response that followed was the 24 hours of lashing out and shaming me for “taking her side” etc.

overall i would just say that if anyone you play with seems to have a habit of telling you that their other play partners are jealous of you, or if you hear warnings about them and they just get angry with you for not immediately choosing to blindly believe that the warnings are fabricated, or if the explanation for the warnings always involves some level of “that person is just bitter bc they wanted more with me and i didn’t” etc, you should interpret it as a red flag.

for example: if i had a play partner approach me saying someone warned me about them, and they felt unsure about me now, i would begin by apologizing right off the bat that they were pulled into a situation that led to them feeling like they weren’t safe or valued by me. then i would ask if they were willing to speak to me about what came up or what they were told, in case i may be able to offer some insight. if they didn’t have the space for it, id respect that. of course i would be very anxious and worried and confused, wondering what someone could have said to them about me to make them feel like they couldn’t trust me - but processing those feelings would be MY responsibility, not theirs. the only appropriate thing for me to do would be to give them whatever space they request, and tell them that i would love nothing more than to talk about it and explore what was going on whenever they were capable. and again, i’d just apologize for any hurt they were experiencing.

would i be lowkey losing my mind a little? absolutely! i’d probably be spiraling and tweaking tryna figure out what on earth could have been said or what they thought i did and whether it was true. i’m not saying it would be easy!!!! but all of those panicky feelings are not theirs to appease. so i would instead reach out to my own close friends for support.

now, granted this hasn’t ever happened to me in kink, because idk i just try really hard to be as honest and open and forthcoming as possible with everyone i ever meet. but it has happened with interpersonal relationships where my partner or friend has a problem with something i did that inadvertently hurt them, and they aren’t ready to talk about it yet. so, it was my responsibility to give them the time they needed to process, and to process my own panic somewhere else.

no one should ever make you feel like your boundaries and needs are harmful to them. if someone has a problem with your boundaries, it usually means they were benefiting from you not having any.

[baekhyunsbestie]

baekhyun saw you once—just once—and decided that was enough. he was in love. struck. completely, irrevocably doomed.

but instead of, you know, being normal about it, he did something that would have any sane person running for the hills. in the span of a heartbeat, he pulled out his phone and hit record, capturing you in all your unknowing, breathtaking glory. it was barely a five-second clip—just you, minding your own business, oblivious to the man whose entire world had just tilted on its axis.

and then, because apparently, restraint was not in his vocabulary, he slapped that video onto tiktok with a caption that instantly cemented him as a walking red flag:

“saw the prettiest angel today… but she flew away before i could shoot my shot. do your thing, tiktok.”

unsurprisingly, the internet did exactly what he asked. the video exploded in record time, flooding fyp’s, group chats, and timelines like a digital wildfire.

your phone was the first casualty.

text after text, notification after notification—your screen lit up like a christmas tree. friends, family, coworkers—everyone and their mother had something to say.

“uhhh… why are you going viral on tiktok???”

“girl. GIRL. IS THIS YOU??”

“not you getting soft launched by a stranger LMAO”

and because curiosity got the best of you, you did the only reasonable thing left to do.

you slid into his dm’s.

baekhyun saw your message the second it came in.

he had been waiting—refreshing the app, pacing his apartment, checking his notifications like a man possessed. he'd taken a risk posting that video. sure, he'd been confident the internet would work its magic, but he hadn't accounted for the fact that you could’ve seen it and just… ignored him.

so when your username finally appeared in his dm’s—accompanied by a profile picture that confirmed it was you, the woman who had completely derailed his world in a single glance—he nearly fumbled his phone in his rush to open it.

you: sooo, did you know recording strangers in public is kinda weird?

your heart was still hammering from the decision to even message him. you had debated it for hours—oscillating between this is unhinged, i’m blocking him and well… i mean, it’s kinda flattering? against your better judgment, curiosity won out.

and then, of course, he responded immediately.

baekhyun_inb100: sooo, did you know ignoring your soulmate when fate literally put us in the same place is kinda rude?

your brows shot up. okay. bold. he had zero shame, apparently.

you scoffed, thumbs moving before you could think better of it.

you: fate didn’t do anything, you just weaponized the internet.

baekhyun laughed under his breath, leaning back against his couch. he liked you already. sharp. fast. no nonsense. if he had been on the fence about you before (he hadn’t), he definitely wasn’t now.

baekhyun_inb100: ‘weaponized’ is a strong word… i prefer ‘used my resources creatively.’

you: so creatively you had an entire app tracking me down?

your fingers hovered over your screen as you hit send, biting your lip. you weren’t gonna lie—there was something entertaining about this. he was flirting, obviously, but in a way that didn’t immediately make you want to throw your phone across the room.

on the other end, baekhyun grinned, practically buzzing with excitement now. he hadn’t expected this conversation to be fun. he figured you’d either chew him out or leave him on read—both outcomes he was willing to risk.

baekhyun_inb100: what can i say? desperate times call for viral measures.

you leaned back against your couch, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. the weird thing was—you should be annoyed. or at least mildly unsettled. but instead, you felt… amused? intrigued? maybe a little flattered, though you’d rather die than admit it.

you: and what exactly were you planning to do if tiktok didn’t find me?

baekhyun smirked at his screen, shaking his head. you were good.

baekhyun_inb100: suffer. dramatically.

you snorted.

you: and now that tiktok did find me?

your fingers hesitated as you typed the question, surprised by how much you actually wanted to know his answer.

baekhyun, on the other hand, barely even had to think about it.

baekhyun_inb100: take you on the best date of your life. unless you wanna break my heart right here in my dm’s. your call, angel. no pressure… kinda.

your breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden shift. you had been expecting more teasing, maybe another joke. but no—this was direct. confident. flirting laced with just the right amount of sincerity.

he was smooth. dangerously so.

but you weren’t gonna make this easy.

you: how do i know this will be the ‘best date of my life’ if you didn’t even have the balls to go up to me in person?

baekhyun groaned, dragging a hand down his face. okay. fair. but also—ouch.

baekhyun_inb100: okokok… first of all, RUDE? second of all, i was strategizing! clearly, it worked because now you’re here.

you rolled your eyes, smirking at your screen.

you: ohhhh, i see. so you’re saying the charm is only digital?

baekhyun clutched his chest, letting out an exaggerated gasp, even though no one was around to witness his suffering. digital only? please. he was dripping in real life charm. you’d see.

baekhyun_inb100: ouch... now i HAVE to take you out just to prove you wrong. lemme know when you're free, and i’ll make sure it’s the best decision of your life.

your heart skipped. you were not supposed to be this affected by some random man in your dm’s. and yet—here you were, staring at his message like an idiot.

finally, you typed back.

you: fine. one date. just to see if you live up to the hype.

baekhyun nearly whooped out loud, punching the air like he’d just won a championship. instead, he settled for a self-satisfied grin as he typed his reply.

baekhyun_inb100: spoiler alert, angel: i do. but i’ll let you find that out yourself.

[teamgermany]

So they can't call a red flag when a driver is stranded in his car laying on the side on the track but suddenly real quick for barrier repairs?

[shithowdy]

this is your periodic reminder that for all the artifacts and errors and "tells" one could possibly list, the only reliable way to actually determine if an image is ai generated is to investigate the source. it is becoming increasingly common for "fake classical paintings" to circulate around curative aesthetic blogs, and everyone should be using this as an opportunity to not only exercise their investigative skills but also appreciate art more in general. you're all checking out the artists you reblog, right? 🫣

so what are some signs to look for? let's use this very good example.

what a lovely late-impressionist piece blended with evocative leyendecker-esque themes! why haven't you ever heard of this artist before? surely tumblr would be all over an artist like this. who is justin brown?

your two options from here are to do a search for the name, or a reverse image search. i prefer reverse image searching, particularly when it comes to a common name like "justin brown". so what does that net?

Immediately, without looking at any text, something is wrong: it barely exists. an actual historical piece would turn up numerous results from websites individually discussing the piece, but no such discussions are taking place. Looking at the text, though, does show the source-- and at least in this case, the creator was honest about their medium.

But let's also look at the "exact matches", in case a source doesn't make itself apparent in the initial sidebar results like this.

This section will often tell you post dates of images, and here it can be seen that the very first iteration of the image was posted 15 days ago. It did not exist online prior to that.

Seeing how long an unsourced image has been floating around is a skill applicable to more than just generative images! See a cool image of an artifact or other intriguing item with a vivid caption? Reverse search it! If all the results are paired with that caption and only go back a few months, you might just have viral facebook spam.

Sometimes generative creators are dishonest about their medium and do not tag it like in the example, so that's when establishing "jpeg provenance" becomes important. While it can be a little trickier to determine if someone is using generative images and not admitting to it if they aren't trying to pass it off as a classic, something to consider is the age of their account and the frequency with which they post. Here are some account red flags:

-Did they only start posting art after 2022, or if they did before, did their style/skill level WILDLY change? Not gradual improvement-- I'm talking amateur graphite portraits straight into complex digital renders. Everyone starts somewhere, newness is not a red flag alone; it's newness combined with existing in a vacuum away from any community.

-Do they post fully-finished paintings several times a week? -Do many of these paintings seem iterative of a similar theme or subject matter ("three well-dressed young men face each other under shade and dappled sunlight")?

-Does their style change in inconsistent ways? An artist that can swap between painting like Drew Struzan and Hokusai should be pretty well known, right? Why is no one hyping this guy?!

-Do they have social media besides the source instagram? If so, what are they posting about? Are there any WIPs? Doodles? Interactions with other artists? Gallery dates? 3am self-doubt posts? Or is it all self-promo? Crypto? Seemingly nothing art-related at all for someone pushing out 3 weekly paintings?

Basically, if it's important to you to omit this stuff when you curate, please don't just smash reblog if the source doesn't seem to be the OP themselves. Seeking out sources was important even before this became an issue, now it is more than ever.

peace n love

[starlightkyeom]

all the petty scenes & all the pretty things | hjs

(where your best friend organizes a weekend away for all your single friends on valentine's and you have to deal with his very annoying roommate)

pairing: joshua hong x f!reader genre: (one-sided) enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers (kinda) | smut & fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 20.5k warnings: mentions of food and alcohol, drinking games, this is vaguely a long valentine's weekend (the holiday is barely mentioned), best friend jeonghan (yes, that's a warning), joshua is a menace, but reader is a bit of an unreliable narrator, so much kissing, multiple sex scenes, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (they talk about it but don't do this), oral sex (f. receiving), some scratching, teasing, briefest edging?, aftercare, nipple/breast play, briefest mention of thigh riding, come eating, idk joshua is just pussy whipped and down horrendous

a/n: another one for the Lonely Hearts Collab organized by the incredibly talented @camandemstudios. please make sure you check out the other amazing fics (like i will be now that i've gotten through both). i'm not really sure what to say about this. something happens when i write joshua and it just...gets away from me. thank you to @tomodachiii, @highvern, and @lovetaroandtaemin for sprinting with me at the end to keep me motivated. and thank you to @100vern for supporting whatever characterization of joshua i wanted.

tag list at the end (join here)

When your best friend, Jeonghan, suggests going away as a group of friends for a Valentine’s trip, you don’t really ask any questions. He says that he wants the trip to be more about friendships than romantic relationships and that sounds great since you’re single at the moment. You don’t hate the holiday or anything. It’s just nice to know that you’ll have something to do that doesn’t revolve around whether or not you’re dating someone. And he says that it’s all going to be planned and all you have to do is show up. Sounds pretty good to you. You give him your budget so that he can find something that works for everyone and pretend you actually had the option on whether you agreed. You don’t have the option, you know, because Jeonghan wasn’t asking. Besides, Jeonghan has been your best friend for years, so you know that it’ll be fun.

It occurs to you when the trip gets closer that Jeonghan is your best friend and you really should know to ask for more details. You know better. Part of that includes just which friends that he’s invited to this trip or if there are any that you’re not also friends with. Generally speaking, Jeonghan has excellent taste in friends. He’s intentional with his time, always has been. It also usually takes him time to get comfortable with newer people. So, when he counts someone as a close friend, you typically know it’s someone that you’re also going to like. It’s why you have nearly identical friend circles. The one exception? His new roommate that you actually cannot stand. 

A few months ago, someone new moved into Jeonghan’s apartment after his old roommate and a close friend of both of yours, Wonwoo, moved out to live with his girlfriend. Enter Joshua. At first appearance, he’s kind, patient, artistic, and funny. Nothing that raises any sort of red flags. All your friends seem to like him immediately and none of them can seem to understand your beef with him. Especially since he never has anything negative to say about you. It makes you feel a little crazy. But, you know that you’re not. You know that this man may be just as petty as you and you know that sometimes he fucks with you just because he can. Never anything malicious. He’s not actually a terrible person. He just seems to delight in the fact that you don’t like him and that your friends give you a hard time over it. Can’t understand your issue when so many of them also love to fuck with you. 

You consider backing out when Jeonghan conveniently lets you know exactly who’s coming a few days before leaving. Up until that point, he was relatively vague. Just the standard group of friends you hang out with. Nobody that creates any sort of problems. He reminds you, when you want to back out, that the deposit is already down on the rental house and the activities are already set. You’re locked into time off from work regardless of going or not. Plus, all the rest of your favorite people (the single ones, at least) will be there so why not just go on the trip anyway? What’s the worst that can happen?

You think you’re going to be revisiting that conversation a lot over the course of the trip.

By the time the trip actually comes around, you’re looking forward to it. So what if Joshua is going to be there? It’s a decent sized group going and the listing for the house you’re staying in is beautiful. There are plenty of places for you to hang out without being on top of someone you don’t like that much. Plus, the shortened week leading up to the trip has crawled by. You need this break. Haven’t really had one since the new year started. Thankfully, you’re able to get done with your work on time and are out the door without giving anyone the chance to add more work onto your plate. 

When you get into your car a few minutes later, after changing into something more comfortable for the ride, you take a deep breath. Half an hour later, you have another of your closest friends, Jennie, in the front seat and the pair of you are off to your getaway. You’re happy that it’s just you and her because at least she hears you out on not liking Joshua. Doesn’t really have any suggestions, but she’s a good ear and an even better partner in crime for the drive up. She has playlists ready, snacks packed, and even a little cooler of drinks. All of that means that you only have to stop once for a bathroom break, to get a little more gas, and to see if you can get something more resembling actual food. The car ride itself is uneventful. 

Once you get to the house? Not so much. Based on the cars already there, you think that you and Jennie might be the last ones to show up. That only feels confirmed when you get into the house and everyone is already spread out and making themselves at home. Jeonghan is quick to come over, a little bit of alcohol on his breath, and welcome you. He lets you know that rooms aren’t decided yet and they wanted to make sure you were there before assigning anything. 

And of course, in typical Jeonghan fashion, he has to make it a game for you to figure out where you’re all going to be sleeping. Everyone gets a quick chance to look through the rooms and see which they might want. Of course, you instantly fall in love with the feel of one room. It shouldn’t matter but the colors feel relaxing, the artwork on the walls is your style, and the beds feel comfy. You give Jennie a look that clearly says you should try to share it. Which shouldn’t be an issue because it’s not even the fanciest room. Once you all look at the rooms, you draw for numbers and Jeonghan explains that you’ll go in order and stand in the room you want. If more people want a room than it fits, then they’ll have to come up with a way to decide who gets it. It’s kind of silly, but everyone seems into it and you just go along. Find yourself getting a little excited when you get to go second, too. 

When it’s your turn, you head straight for the room you want and let out a sigh of relief seeing it’s empty. Jennie has a higher number, so you’ll have to wait to see what happens. It seems like everything is going to go well until Joshua walks into the room with that obnoxious smile on his face. You figure he’ll turn around when he sees you. Instead, he smiles more and plops himself down on the free bed. You are determined not to say anything to him and just wait for Jennie to come along. Only…she never does. Jeonghan calls through the house to say that everyone has picked their rooms and to figure it out if there are too many people in the room.

“You look confused,” he observes and the furrow in your brow deepens. 

“I was expecting…” you start and shake your head.

“Jennie?” he asks and you frown. “I mentioned that I also really wanted this room and she said she would try for a different room since I was before her.”

“Traitor,” you say under your breath. 

“What’s that?” he asks, clearly amused.

“Nothing,” you say. “You could have picked another room, too, you know.” 

“All we have to do here is sleep. The beds in this room are the most comfortable and they’re facing the right way. The decorations are relaxing enough that it'll be easy to fall asleep. I want this room,” he says. 

“But, I’m here,” you say kind of lamely. 

“Not the same problem it is for me that it is for you. You’re welcome to switch with someone else, though,” he says.

“Not a…you hate me,” you say incredulously. 

“No, I don’t. Why would you think that?” Joshua asks and you just blink at him. 

“Because you’re always fucking with me,” you say stupidly. 

Joshua tsks with that infuriating smile still firmly in place. “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t hate you and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“But…” you start as he gets to his feet. 

“I’m going to get my bags. Do you want me to grab yours as well?” he asks. You try to splutter out a response which only makes him smile more knowingly. 

Once you gather your thoughts, you also get up to get your own bags. He may have thrown you off for a second, but you’re stubborn and you’re not letting him win at this. You’re not really sure what game he’s playing or why he’s messing with you this way. You’re also not sure why Jennie let you fall into this situation without so much as a fight. That’s a conversation for later when you know that you won’t be overheard. For now, you’re going to get settled in the house and have a very large drink. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, after all, and you’re going to need all of your strength. 

Your first night goes much easier than you expect. There are enough people that you don’t have to directly interact with your new roommate for the trip. Then, you’re asleep before Joshua comes to bed. Somehow, he’s already out of bed before you get up. A sure sign that you managed to get peaceful sleep. Another sign that you made the right call with the bedroom. It just feels really relaxing. That peace lasts as long as it takes you to get dressed and head out into the kitchen area for coffee. Joshua looks like he’s holding court as he uses the unnecessarily elaborate coffee machine to fill everyone’s orders. And like every other time, they all look completely happy to have him around. You cannot understand it. This is the man that’s been terrorizing you since moving in with Jeonghan and acting like he’s an innocent little angel. Constantly telling you that he would never be chaotic or a menace. It makes you insane. 

(Terrorizing is an incredibly strong word and the rational part of you knows that. Knows that he’s not some evil demon sent from Hell to fight with you, specifically. Knows he doesn’t fuck with you anymore than someone like Jeonghan does. The irrational part of you has decided that fighting with him is the hill you’re willing to die on. That irrational part doesn’t even consider there could be a reason for him acting the way he does with you.)

“Oh this is so cute!” Jennie says as he hands over her mug with perfect latte art. You didn’t realize this was some fancy coffee house set up. 

Joshua smiles soft, the kind that he never shows you, and pushes his glasses back up his nose. Nobody should be allowed to look that good while wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt. But, he’s got that just rolled out of bed look that would work if you didn’t hate everything about him. His eyes land on you and his smile changes entirely. You think it looks like he’s up to something. Jennie turns around and catches sight of you.

“Babe! You have to let Shua make you coffee. Look how cute this is!” she squeals and shows off her cup as you walk over to her. 

“Shua?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. 

“Don’t worry, you can still just call me Joshua,” he says like he’s doing you a favor.  

“How about Satan?” you ask under your breath. 

His face lights up with that all-too-common look of mischief and you know he heard you. “You know, I prefer Lucifer, actually.” 

“Why is that?” you ask. “They were the same.” 

“In theory, maybe. But, we talk more about Lucifer being a fallen angel than Satan. Plus, it just sounds better, especially when you add Morningstar onto the end. Just a fallen star,” he says and you roll your eyes. He turns back to the coffee machine. “Coffee?”

“Are you asking me?” you say and look around. Everyone else seems to have coffee already. 

“Who else?” he answers with a question of his own. A challenge implicit in the words

“I can make my own, thanks,” you say. “You might put salt into it instead of sugar.” 

He turns around, a lock of faux outrage on his face. “Wow.”

“Come on. Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Jennie asks. It’s just the three of you at the kitchen island. 

“Oh, coming from the traitor,” you say without any real heat to it. 

Jennie shrugs, entirely unashamed. “I’m sharing with Seungcheol. He doesn’t snore and he might’ve had to share the bed with Mingyu otherwise. When Joshua said he wanted your same room, I didn’t feel like fighting when I still might lose.”

You sigh at her and Joshua just watches the exchange with more interest than you expect. “So, where are we on letting me make your coffee?”

“Fine,” you say with another sigh. 

Jennie only chuckles under her breath as she gets up off the stool, coffee in hand. “Enjoy.”

Joshua looks at you with the same annoying smile and asks how you like your coffee. You answer him while saying as little as possible and he’s off to work. It’s a nice break once he turns around. He can’t give you shit while he’s focusing so hard on the drink. For a second, you even forget to watch the ingredients he uses. He’s so peaceful. Thankfully (for you, at least), you shake yourself out of it before he turns back around with your mug. 

“Here,” he says and hands it over with the sly smile he saves for you. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

It’s casual, the way he says it. Like the way you would say it to an acquaintance or even a newer friend. Certainly not the way you expect him to say it to you. Actually, you don’t expect to hear him say it at all. You roll your eyes for the hundredth time. “Thanks, you too.”

His eyes are still on you and it’s unnerving. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

The alarm bells go off in your head. It’s so easy to imagine him fucking with you. It’s not like you could see through his body to know what he was doing while making the coffee. If you say anything now, though, and it’s a normal cup, then you’ll be the one who seems crazy. All that’s left to do is (begrudgingly) take a sip. Which you do. It takes everything in you not to give away that it’s the best cup of coffee in your life. How does he manage to make it taste so good? How does he get perfect portions of everything? 

You must not totally control your face because he smiles again like he can read your mind. Then he prompts the answer he must already know. “So?”

“It’s not bad,” you say noncommittally.

“Not bad?” Seungcheol asks. It’s beyond you how that man manages to sneak up on you. Makes you start a little. He only chuckles at that and puts a hand on your arm to steady you. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.”

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. After all, you don’t have beef with him. Jeonghan, maybe, and Joshua, definitely, but not Seungcheol. You can’t blame Jennie for saving him from sharing a bed with Mingyu when Mingyu sleeps like a starfish.

“This is the best coffee I’ve ever had. I want to pay him to just make me a cup whenever I need it,” he jokes. 

Joshua shrugs, feigning a humility that you know he doesn’t feel. It’s the version of him that everyone else but you seems to get. It just feels so fake. Doesn’t occur to you that maybe it’s all the real him. That he could be both a chaos demon and a genuinely nice person all at once. Or maybe you’re getting the fake version of him. 

“It’s nothing,” Joshua says, like the compliment makes him shy. “I worked as a barista while I was in school. Got pretty good at it because it meant better tips.” 

“You know, maybe we should talk about you opening a coffee shop. I know some people who might want to invest and you’re wasting away in an office job. You’re much better around people,” Seungcheol says. 

You snort and quickly cover it. Although Seungcheol seems to second guess what he heard, one look at Joshua tells you he knows. His face is even again by the time the other man looks back. Leave it to Seungcheol and his giant heart to want to help someone who may not even deserve it. Before you can say anything else, you excuse yourself from the conversation with a final forced thank you. You don’t want to spend the whole weekend feeling crazy any time someone sees you bickering with Joshua.  With a whole weekend like this, he’s bound to show his true colors. And you’ll be waiting for that moment. No, you don’t think that’s crazy at all. It’s just how it has to be.

The rest of the morning and afternoon pass in kind of a blur. You and Jennie offer to do the big grocery shopping trip to get everything on the communal list. There had been a little bit of food, some drinks, and plenty of coffee. But, you need food for the rest of the weekend, especially with tonight being a meal in the house to avoid the insanity of Valentine’s Day crowds. Shopping the night before just hadn’t been on the agenda either. So, you and Jennie head out to brave any last minute shoppers with a (slightly longer than expected) list of what you think you’ll need the rest of the weekend.

Once you get back, Jeonghan is quick to take over while ushering you off to hang out in the living room. You’re not sure if he unpacks the groceries, or, more realistically, gets someone else to handle it. That’s definitely something nice about having a house full of people. There’s no shortage of helping hands. It’s just nice to get to sit for a minute. The grocery store had been busier than expected. You don’t mind crowds, neither does Jennie. There’s just something about holidays that seems to bring out the worst in those that are out last minute. 

It seems like people have scattered while you were at the store. The weather doesn’t quite feel warm enough to be outside. It is sunny, though, and that seems like enough to pull some of your friends outside to kick a ball around. Definitely not something that appeals to you. Instead, you drift over to join Jun and Jeonghan playing a boardgame. Most of your friends have a rule against playing games with Jeonghan because he’s not above cheating for fun. Or just to win since he can be competitive. That’s never been a rule you bothered with. It’s just as fun for you to see his reactions when you don’t react to his cheating. That can be more fun than the game itself. Besides, you’re pretty good at a lot of the games he plays. It’s a safe option while Joshua is outside. 

Eventually, Jun has to excuse himself from your games. Not really a big loss to Jeonghan since Jun really only joined for the vibes and because running around outside felt like too much work. As the afternoon slips away, he leaves to join Mingyu in the kitchen. The two of them are tackling dinner for the entire group. A fact you’re all happy with since they’re both incredible cooks. You, personally, are less excited when Joshua plops into Jun’s vacated seat, freshly showered after being outside. His hair is still wet as he shakes it out a little and runs a hand through it to get it out of his face. 

“What’s with the glasses today?” Jeonghan asks and Joshua rolls his eyes. 

“I wear glasses a lot. Are you saying that you’re not just always staring at my face?” Joshua retorts. Jeonghan is the only other person Joshua ever messes around with. But, it’s very different than with you. Those two banter. Sass each other back and forth. Joshua genuinely fucks with you. At least, that’s how it feels to you.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at his roommate and glances over at you for some reason. Even as long as you’ve been friends, you still can’t read the look on your best friend’s face. It looks like he’s putting something together and you have no idea what. Aren’t sure you want to know, honestly. He and Joshua may not have been roommates long, but Jeonghan considers them two peas in a pod. Yet, somehow everyone knows Jeonghan is a demon with a kind heart, while nobody thinks Joshua is anything but sweet. 

“Please tell me you didn’t wear glasses so…” your best friend starts, only to be quickly cut off. 

“I thought we were playing games over here,” Joshua interrupts. Although Jeonghan narrows his eyes, he doesn’t comment further. Weird. 

“I’ll leave the roommates to it,” you say flatly and start to stand up. Jeonghan grabs your arm gently, so you could pull away if you wanted. It’s just to get your attention.

“Come on, you can’t abandon us. The games are more fun with more than two people,” he says. Gives you that angelic smile you still haven’t figured out how to ignore after years of friendship.

“I was going to…” you start and trail off when a good excuse eludes you.

“What?” Jeonghan challenges with that sparkle in his eye. “Help in the kitchen? Watch whatever Jennie is trying to teach Cheol? Let Soonyoung corner you the way he probably cornered Jihoon and Sana to talk about his idea to adopt a tiger?” 

“He’s a menace,” you protest weakly, glancing briefly at Joshua. He’s been watching the exchange with clear interest and this makes him laugh.

“Jeonghan is your best friend!” he says while holding back a laugh. 

“Yeah, but everyone knows he’s a menace,” you start.

“Hey!”

“Oh you are, Hannie, don’t deny it.” 

“Still.” He pouts at you and you know it means he’s not actually upset. He is a menace and the most loyal person you know. It’s fine. 

“You, on the other hand,” you say, turning to Joshua. He gives you a look of polite interest. “You’re a menace and everyone thinks you’re an angel.”

“I am an angel,” he says with a shrug.

“Every day the universe tests my patience,” you say under your breath. 

“Just play with us,” Jeonghan says and you sigh.

“Fine.”

In some ways, it is actually funnier than playing with Jun. Joshua tries to be stealthy as he cheats, but you’re best friends with Jeonghan and you’ve absolutely seen it all. The normal rules go out the window and you all try to see who can be the sneakiest in cheating for an advantage. Your best friend receives a shock with how well you keep pace. Not that it should be surprising. You pick things up with Jeonghan in your life. Despite how much fun you’re having, you stop just short of admitting that. Can’t let Joshua have the satisfaction. 

Eventually, it’s time for everyone to head back to their rooms to get ready for dinner. Even though you’re staying in, everyone wants to get dressed up. Pretend you’re all fancy for no real reason. You let Joshua go back to the room first. He and Sana are relieving Mingyu and Jun so that they can also get ready for dinner. At least you have the confidence neither of them will burn anything. He’s changed by the time you return to the room and sit down on your bed to do your makeup. 

“Trying to impress someone?” he asks, voice low in a way that’s unfamiliar to you. 

It makes you glance up at him sharply, searching to understand the tone. He doesn’t have his standard sly grin on his face and it’s a little disarming. Instead, he’s studying your face. “Sometimes I just like to look nice.” 

Joshua turns to grab his watch and says something under his breath. Something so quiet that you can’t hear it even looking right at him. Can’t read his lips either since you’re looking at his profile. He seems so concentrated and, for once, unguarded. It gives you a moment to take him in when you usually try not to linger on him for more than a moment. He’s wearing a crisp dress shirt with the top few buttons undone. Just the right amount of casual and dressy. Your eyes linger on his necklace that should look a little too fine or thin, yet somehow works on him. It’s an interesting combination. Something you might expect to see on Jeonghan with all his delicate features. Lost in your consideration of the piece of jewelry, you miss the moment Joshua finishes fastening this watch and looks back up.

“Were you staring at me?” he asks and you’re not surprised to hear his usual tone back. Maybe a little cockiness thrown in for good measure.

“Your necklace, actually,” you answer. It comes out much more smooth than you feel after being caught staring at your enemy. 

He chuckles and touches a hand to it. Runs a careful finger along the chain. Then, he smirks at you and you know there’s no good that can come from that. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you borrow it.” 

A million things run through your head at that statement. None of them can come out of your mouth, though. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping Sana in the kitchen so our lovely chefs can get ready?”

“Sure,” he agrees easily and you like that tone even less. It’s like he knows some kind of secret that you’re not in on. It’s unnerving. He turns to the door before giving you a chance to say anything else. “See you at dinner.” 

What the hell was that?

You finish getting ready and head out into the dining area to find Jennie and Soonyoung setting the table. As seems to be usual, he has entirely too much energy for such a simple task. It’s kind of endearing, really. Everything with him around the group feels exciting, even the boring things. Jeonghan is just behind them with little name cards to assign you where to sit. You would roll your eyes if it weren’t so completely him. Though, he seems to have taken at least a partial night off from causing problems on purpose. Your seat is between Jennie and Jihoon, which seems harmless enough. Knowing Ji, he may not even have much to say. 

As something to do, you help bring food to the table. Everything looks amazing. Not that it’s a surprise. If Seungcheol wants to pay Joshua to make him coffee every day, you wish you could pay Mingyu to cook all your meals. Even as the one who went grocery shopping, you aren’t expecting this. There’s an assortment of dishes, both hot and cold, with something seemingly from every food group. And it smells even better than it looks. Everyone loads up their plates and takes their assigned seats. Naturally, Jeonghan sits at the head. And, of course, Joshua is sitting across from you. Not directly across from you, no. Jeonghan has him sitting across from Jennie. It seems deliberate since you’re far more likely to turn to chat with Jennie than Jihoon. But, nothing should ruin your mood or this dinner. Instead, you heap your praise on Mingyu and Jun before digging in. Just kind of follow the conversation as it goes. 

Dinner is just as amazing as you imagined it would be. Even cleaning up after dinner goes quickly. And then it’s to the part of the night Jeonghan seems most excited about: drinking and playing games. Multiple people veto Soonyoung’s request to play strip poker, causing him to pout. So, Seungcheol jumps in with another card game where you can all drink and keep your clothes on. Someone seems to mutter that everyone keeping their clothes on is boring, earning a chuckle. Still, you all settle around a large coffee table and start drinking. Jihoon joins once he gets a playlist going for background music. 

The game lasts longer than you expect before Soonyoung starts to lose interest again. And he doesn’t seem to be alone. He’s giggling along with Jun and Sana, the lightest of the lightweights in the group when it comes to drinking. None of them are really paying attention to their turns, but how can you be mad? They’re all so cute. So happy.

“Oh I know!” Soonyoung says, volume several settings too loud.

“Inside voice, Soonie,” Sana giggles.

“We should play truth or dare,” he says. It’s still a bit too loud, but at least your ears don’t hurt.

“Soonyoung, we’re adults,” Jihoon says, only a slight flush to his cheeks showing he’s been drinking.

“Which makes it even more fun,” Jun chimes in. 

Jihoon looks around for support. Looks for someone else to object. Most people only shrug. You all know that Soonyoung is going to get what he wants. He’s got a cute pout and he never asks for anything that would actually make someone uncomfortable. Why not play a silly game while drinking with friends on a getaway to forget none of you are in relationships at the moment? What could possibly go wrong?

The first few rounds, as always, are pretty mild. Nobody wants to be the first one to cross the line into something a little raunchier. Then the drinks keep flowing and people seem to get a little looser. Soonyoung gives Sana a lap dance that has the entire group on the edge of their seats. Jihoon has to admit that he wrote half a dozen songs about a crush on Sana when he first got started (which earns him a kiss on the cheek from the woman in question). Mingyu has to share a sexual fantasy. Sana has to suck on someone’s fingers (and picks Jihoon, which makes his cheeks flush). Around and around it goes with the only constant being that neither option is safer. It all depends on who’s asking and who they’re asking. The majority of what comes out is known to at least part of the group since most of you have been friends for years. It’s also all in good fun while the drinks flow. 

“Joshua, truth or dare?” Jeonghan says and his roommate seems delighted.

“Dare, obviously,” he says without a second thought.

You roll your eyes and take a drink while you watch Jeonghan pretend to consider. It’s an act, one you know well. He knows what he’s going to say and it comes out a second later. “I dare you to whisper in someone’s ear til they blush.”

“Something dirty?” Joshua asks. 

Jeonghan just shrugs. “Up to you about whatever you think will work best.”

Joshua casts his eyes around the group like he’s actually considering. You figure he’ll probably pick someone whose cheeks are already a bit flushed from drinking. Make it easier on himself. That’s what Jeonghan would do, at least. It’s only when you realize that he’s moving towards you that you get a little nervous. Jennie offers you a smile before getting up so that he can sit next to you. You really need to get better friends. It should be fine, though, because you don’t blush that easily. Definitely not because of someone you don’t even like. 

Your other friends seem to move a little further away, too. Maybe so they can see better or maybe so they don’t hear what he says. This is a test of wills and it’s one you intend to win as you give him the most neutral look. Unfortunately, he surprises you right from the start by gently taking hold of your chin and turning your face away from him. His fingers are just as gentle when they push your hair away from your ear. It’s the way you treat someone you actually like, not someone you constantly terrorize. The warmth from his breath tickles you as he leans into your ear. 

“You think you have me fooled. Want me to think that you can’t stand me,” he begins and you’re already fighting off a shiver. His voice is low, as smooth as honey and just as sweet. He keeps a hand around the back of your head and one in front of his own face to create the illusion of privacy. Even though nobody else could hear him with his voice so low. 

“I know, though. I know there’s a very fine line between hate and…desire. I saw the way you looked at my necklace earlier. Tracked the way you watched my fingers slide along the smooth chain. Were you imagining what else my fingers could do? Maybe you want to imagine them sliding across your lips. I’d do it if all our friends weren’t watching. Or maybe you were thinking about having my fingers ghost over your neck. Applying feather light pressure.” 

It’s getting harder for you to keep your cool. There’s a slideshow of the least sexy images that you can conjure playing in your mind. You cannot lose this to Joshua, of all people. Anyone else, fine. Just not him.

“Hmm. Or maybe it’s my mouth that gets you going. That mouth that’s always terrorizing you. Always seems to have something to say. Do you want to know what it feels like pressed into your skin? Do you want to imagine me dipping my head down from your ear? Can you imagine me sucking a mark into the soft skin of your neck and then soothing you by running my tongue over the spot? I will keep kissing down your skin. Finding every spot that makes you moan. I bet you make the sweetest sounds…”

“BESTIE!” Jeonghan says, nearly shrieking with delight. “Oh my god, I cannot believe he got you!”

Joshua pulls away with the worst grin you’ve ever seen and you just huff out in annoyance. Cross your arms and firmly look anywhere but Joshua. It’s all you can do to try and calm down the rapid beating of your heart. You shake your head and then glare at your best friend.

“What was he saying?” Mingyu asks, feeding too much into bullshit. 

“That’s between us,” Joshua says as he gets up to return to his original seat. 

“Cannot believe he managed to make our strongest soldier blush like that,” Sana says through a giggle. 

“Is she?” Joshua asks Sana, seeming genuinely intrigued. Sana raises her eyebrows in question. “Our strongest soldier?”

“Yeah, nothing gets her, usually,” Mingyu says and you cast a look at him for betraying you.

“It was like he was reading some smutty book to me. I wasn’t even thinking about it being him,” you say with a pout.

“Sure, sure,” Jeonghan says dismissively and turns to his roommate. “Your turn.” 

Part of you expects him to turn it right back on you given the look on his face. He surprises you, though, and turns over to Sana. You space out on whatever the truth or dare is. Kind of can’t think about anything other than the things Joshua whispered into your ear. You know he didn’t mean any of it. There’s no world where Joshua wants to do any of those things with you. And no world where you want him too, either, you remind yourself. It just kills you that he won this round. You refocus just in time to hear Sana direct the next question to you.

“Truth or dare?” she asks 

Sana is trustworthy. Not someone out to get you, so it’s easy to answer. “Dare.”

“Kiss the most attractive person…” she starts, only to get an elbow to the side from Soonyoung. “Sorry, I want you to kiss the most attractive guy on the lips for at least 5 seconds. Jennie and I are off the table.” 

“What would it take to get you on the table?” Seungcheol jokes and somehow keeps it from sounding sleazy. 

You roll your eyes and look around the group. All of your friends are pretty, which makes something like this hard. Easy to overthink, too. That’s when it hits you. Quickly rising, you make it seem like you’re heading towards Joshua. His face shows surprise for the briefest moment. At the last second, you curve towards Mingyu. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He chuckles, catching onto your game immediately. “Not like it’s the first time.” 

You lean in and press a kiss to his lips. It’s nothing that deep, but you do make sure it lasts longer than five seconds. When you pull away, Joshua seems to be watching intently. Even follows you back to your seat. 

“Hey, now why does Mingyu get to be the most attractive?” Soonyoung protests with a pout.

“Maybe because he’s a literal model?” Jennie says with a laugh. 

“Details,” Soonyoung says dismissively. 

During the exchange you look back at Joshua and tune out the bickering. You find his eyes already on you, an unreadable look on his face. “Truth or dare?”

Joshua’s eyes widen. “Me?” 

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement.

His eyes narrow, just for a second. “Truth.” 

“What’s your most embarrassing sex story?” 

The question seems to catch him further off guard and you’re not sure what he expected you to ask. Maybe he thought you would ask about why he’s always terrorizing you. This is infinitely better, though. The way he answers will tell you a lot about him. 

He actually launches into a legitimate story. Apparently, he had been dating someone and wanted to spice things up a little in the relationship. So, he let himself into her apartment to set up a little dinner for them and then stripped down to a sexy waiter outfit. Just cuffs, a collar, and the tiniest underwear known to man. The only problem was that she didn’t know that he was setting up the surprise and showed up back at her place with her parents, who he had not even met yet. He was never able to recover from it and they broke up. It’s not technically a sex story, but you let him have it because it’s definitely embarrassing. 

The game carries on once again. The truths and dares get bolder until someone reels it back in with something a little tamer and the cycle resets. You think you might be in the clear, even though your mind still lingers in places you wish it wouldn’t. If your friends can tell you’re zoning out, they don’t call you on it. You’re actually surprised the game has gone on this long with everyone drinking and being silly. It’s kind of nice too, though, to get to take a break from real world responsibilities. There’s a lightness to the whole night that makes you warm. At least, that’s what you’re deciding has you feeling the way you are.

“Okay, last one and then we’re moving onto a drinking game,” Seungcheol says. 

“Bossy,” Jennie comments and earns a smattering of chuckles. 

“You up for it?” Seungcheol asks Joshua.

“Sure, dare,” he says without missing a beat. 

“No more of this whispering in her ear to make her blush, I want to see an actual kiss,” Seungcheol says and looks right at you.

“Excuse me?” you ask. He’s the last person you imagine engaging in whatever this is that the rest of your friends are up to.

“I could cut the tension with a knife and I just wanna see if it’s one sided,” he says, unapologetic. 

“Didn’t take you as the type who liked to watch,” Jeonghan says, shit-eating grin taking over his face.

“Oh, I’m into all sorts of things, but we can talk about that later,” Seungcheol says with a wink at Jeonghan. You forget, sometimes, that he can be just as insufferable as your best friend. He turns back to you. “You can back out, though.”

Joshua is watching you for your reaction and his face is unreadable. It’s impossible to tell if he actually wants to do this or if he’s just going along with the game. You know that he won’t follow through if you say no, though. Maybe it’s the drinks coursing through you, but it doesn’t feel like the worst thing in the world. The buzz in your veins is pleasant and you know you’re still totally in control. 

“Well?” Joshua presses when you don’t say anything.

You try to seem unaffected again by rolling your eyes. Can tell by the looks you get that it doesn’t really work. So, you huff out a short reply. “Fine.” 

For the second time tonight, Joshua rises from his seat and crosses to you. Jennie doesn’t even get a chance to move this time because he reaches a hand to you and pulls you to your feet. It’s gentle again, just like he was when he whispered filth into your ear. Almost cautiously, he puts one hand on your waist, sliding it along so it’s on your back as he pulls you into him. His other hand rests on your cheek and then he kisses you. Not just a peck like you’re expecting. His lips are impossibly soft and it takes everything in you not to sink further into it. To fight the way your body wants to respond to his touch. The next second, he pulls back. When you meet his eyes, it’s the first time you can remember seeing him look like that. Soft, unguarded, curious. The mask slips back into place when he steps away.

“Satisfied?” Joshua asks Seungcheol.

“Oh, definitely.” 

Nobody says anything about the kiss as you move into whatever drinking game Seungcheol picks to play next. There are plenty of looks that both you and Joshua miss, though. It’s almost like seeing the version of Joshua that all your friends talk about. The one who could be kind and thoughtful. Funny and supportive. All the sides you’re very convinced are reserved for anyone but you. It makes your head spin in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol in your system. It fills you with questions, too. Why did he kiss you like that? It’s the kind of first kiss everyone wants. One that’s full of promises and meaning. One that sets the tone for everything going forward. 

It’s going to spiral you back into annoyance again if you’re not careful. It’s all just a game to him, right? Just another way to mess with you and get you to think about wanting him. Another way to show that he’s somehow in control of this whole dynamic. That’s a win you can’t give him. So, you dial yourself back into the present and into the game. Make sure to act like everything is fine. And it is. You’re definitely not thinking about the things Joshua whispered in your ear now that you know exactly what his lips feel like on yours. 

The next morning comes brighter than you’re expecting. Then, you realize it’s not that early after all. A side effect of staying up into the early hours of the morning having the best night with your friends. Your head feels a little fuzzy from drinking. Could be a lot worse. Thankfully, you drank a ton of water and took a couple painkillers to hedge your bets, so you wake up without a hangover. Sometimes, past-you really does look out for future-you.

In the other bed, Joshua shifts. You freeze, not entirely ready to deal with him before even wiping the sleep from your eyes. Instead, he just rolls over and his breathing stays even. It’s that steady rhythm of someone sleeping soundly. He looks younger, somehow, while he’s sleeping. Or maybe it’s just that he’s completely relaxed. No time for scheming or terrorizing you. There’s an innocence that almost makes you forget the war between you and him. Almost. 

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you decide to see if anyone else in the house is awake. The whole house is quiet, though. Not surprising. You always seem to be the first one awake after a night drinking and this is supposed to be a vacation. There’s no point in waking anyone up when you don’t have plans until later. So, you decide to grab your book, an oversized hoodie that you stole from one of your friends, and one of the blankets from the living room before heading outside. There’s a chill in the air, though not it’s not as bad as the previous day. There’s also heating units on the patio that you can turn on before settling down. 

It’s the perfect cozy morning. The heaters and the blanket keep you just warm enough without it being uncomfortable. The world around you is calm, peaceful in a way it never could be in a city. A breeze gently rustles through the trees. Birds call out to each other. There aren’t any of those sounds that people contribute. You get lost in the fictional world and the vivid imagery, completely unaware of anything going on around you. 

At least until a voice interrupts your thoughts. A voice that’s quickly becoming too recognizable. 

“I brought you coffee,” he says and holds out a steaming mug. 

Without consciously making the decision, you move your legs on the couch, allowing him to sit down on the other end. He has his own mug that he blows gently across before taking a sip. Your eyes study his profile for a moment before taking a sip of your own.

“Thank you,” you say without the normal bite. 

“I made it the same as yesterday, hope that’s okay,” he says. He’s still facing forward and you can’t really place why. Or why it bothers you that he’s not looking over at you when you’re not even friends. 

You sigh. “You make incredible coffee. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

The side of his mouth that you can see quirks into a smile. Probably a smug one, knowing him. Then he does actually turn to face you and, of course, his eyes sparkle. “Still nice to hear.” 

“Yes, Joshua, you are the coffee god,” you say with heavy sarcasm.

You set the coffee down on the table long enough so that you can mark the place in your book with the receipt you’re using as a bookmark and set it aside. Somehow, this seems to interest him, even though it seems like the most mundane thing. Instead of trying to figure out what’s going on in his head, you just pick your coffee back up and resume drinking in peace. A peace that only lasts a moment.

“You can tell a lot about someone by how they handle their books,” he says. 

That gets your attention even though you know it’s meant to bait you into a conversation. “Is that so?” 

“Probably not,” he says with a light laugh. “But, I like that you don’t dog-ear your pages…”

“A crime.” 

“And I use receipts as bookmarks, too. Sometimes, from when I buy the books if they don’t just email it to me or otherwise, just one I have lying around. I can’t ever seem to remember an actual bookmark, but who doesn’t have receipts lying around?”

“That’s true,” you concede. Joshua takes another sip of his coffee and shivers a little, even though he’s also got a sweatshirt one. One of Jeonghan’s, you think, because you know you’ve seen him in it. “Here.” 

“What?” he asks and turns to you. You’re pushing the edge of the blanket towards him with your foot. It’s plenty big enough to share.

“You brought me coffee. I’m not going to let you shiver,” you say and he smiles at you. One of the real ones that you’re not used to. 

“Thanks,” he says and pulls it toward his lap. 

“I’m surprised you’re not inside making everyone else coffee, too.” 

“Nobody else is awake yet. Or, I didn’t see anyone. I thought I heard voices, could’ve been a TV in one of the rooms. But it seemed so peaceful out here and I figured…”

“You’d come bug me?” 

The look he gives you is a little exasperated. Something new on his face. Joshua reaches into the pouch of his sweatshirt and pulls out a book. It’s a title and an author you don’t recognize. You wonder what you might be able to learn from his reading habits. 

“I thought I might read, too,” he says instead and glances at your book. “You know, not what I pictured you reading.” 

Several responses war in your head, all wanting to come out. You look over at the book to buy yourself a minute to see which answer wins out. “I like fantasy. It’s nice to escape into a world that isn’t real.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he says, seemingly pleased that you’re not being snarky. 

“So, why not this, then?” you ask. It hits you that maybe he pays more attention to you than you realize. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at getting under your skin. A thought occurs to you. “If you say you think I’d prefer sparkly vampires, I will end you.”

That makes him laugh, loud and clear. Like he’s not concerned about coming off a certain way. It’s a nice sound, you think. “No, that’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking more fantasy mixed with some kind of dystopia. Not something set in the Middle East.” 

“I do like that, too,” you admit grudgingly. “Have you read this one? It was out on a fantasy table at the bookstore and it just sounded interesting.”

“Not yet, maybe you’ll let me borrow it,” he says with that smirk that reminds you just what a pain he can be.

“We’re definitely not at book sharing,” you deadpan, falling right into the trap without realizing.

“So we can swap spit but you won’t share a book with me?” 

“Ew.” 

“I know the kiss wasn’t so bad that you’re saying ew about it.” 

You pull your legs closer into yourself and wrap your hands more tightly around the mug for both warmth and comfort. Regard him for a moment and decide how you want to go forward. There’s something about the setting that makes it feel like the two of you are in your own little bubble. Like you can say things you wouldn’t with your other friends around. Even though you know that you can see the patio from inside, it feels more private. Less on display than you and Joshua were the night before during the game. Somewhere along the chat, Joshua has also turned to face you and crossed his legs in front of him.

“I don’t understand you,” you admit after a moment. 

“I didn’t think I was complicated,” he says. 

“You hate me…”

“I’ve already told you I don’t.” 

“But you picked me to make blush even though there were better options and then kissed me without hesitation.” Joshua opens his mouth, a smart retort on his lips, you’re sure. So you’re quick to cut him off. “And don’t say it was just a dare. I didn’t kiss Mingyu that way and I got to pick whoever I wanted.” 

That makes him snap his mouth shut briefly. He takes a slow sip of coffee, seemingly to buy himself a moment to reconsider what to say. It’s hell on you, though, because seeing his lips on the mug reminds you of the way his lips felt against yours last night. 

“I don’t hate you,” he repeats to start. “I was maybe a little envious, at the beginning, of your relationship with Jeonghan and the rest of that friend group. I’ve always made friends easily, but this felt different. I know we all joke about it, but Jeonghan and I must have been friends in another life. And I saw how everyone also loved you and joked around with you, but you weren’t like that with me. So it felt a little like I was still on the outside of this group I loved.” 

“Who all love you, too, for the record,” you say with a sigh.

“You don’t, though,” he presses.

“Because you terrorize me!” you say without any real heat. 

“So does Jeonghan,” he points out. 

“He gets best friend privileges,” you say. “And he doesn’t fuck with me like you do.” 

“I watched him eat your ice cream out of the freezer and try to convince you that it wasn’t ever yours. And that he had no idea what happened to yours,” he deadpans and you immediately close your mouth, forgetting what you wanted to say.

“I…okay, yeah, he does fuck with me,” you concede.

“I figured if you already didn’t like me, I might as well have a little fun,” he says with a shrug. You can see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though. 

“And irritating me, then pretending you haven’t done anything is fun to you?” 

“Yeah, actually.”

You huff out in annoyance. “At least you admit that I’m not crazy.” 

“Now, that’s not all my doing.” 

You’re about to snap back at him when you catch sight of the look on his face. He’s just needling you again. Like he has been since moving in with your best friend. So, you switch tactics, hoping to catch him off guard. “Still doesn’t explain the dares last night.”

Joshua gives you a look that’s almost a little sympathetic. Like there’s something right in front of you that you can’t really figure out. It instantly makes you want to wipe it off him. “Like I said, I like to annoy you. You’re even hotter when you’re annoyed.”

“Excuse…” you start.

The door opens behind you and Jennie pokes her head out. “Brunch is ready, lovebirds.”

“We’re not…” you try to start again.

Joshua is too quick, though. Giving you that obnoxious smirk and slowly moving the blanket off his lap. “Thanks for sharing your blanket with me, sweetheart.”

With that, he’s up and heading inside before your brain can even catch up. God, he’s so fucking infuriating that it’s going to make you crazy. But, as you’re gathering your things to head inside for brunch, and ignoring Jennie’s pointed look, you consider that maybe you did just get to know a lot more about Joshua than you realized. 

After brunch, everyone gets ready to head out to the action park. This had been a Soonyoung and Jun suggestion, but everyone seems pretty interested. Since they’re the only ones who have been to one before, you’re not entirely sure what to expect just from the website. In person, it’s actually really cool. They have go karts, bumper cars, indoor mini golf, rock climbing and ropes courses, small ziplines, laser tag, and even more things that you can’t really put a name to. There’s definitely something for everyone and it lets you split off to go do whatever seems the most interesting. 

You’re barely in the door before Soonyoung and Jun are running off giggling. Jeonghan peels off to go karts. He’s not a great driver, but he’s as competitive as they come and it’s definitely something he can try to win at. A little surprising, especially with mini golf being right there, but whatever floats his boat. You try to drag Mingyu along with you to the zip line, figuring it’s not that high and maybe it’ll help him work on his fear of heights. You’re a little surprised that you get him to agree eventually. More surprised still that he actually seems to enjoy it. From the top of the zipline, you see that Jun and Soonyoung are playing some teenagers in laser tag, giggling in a way that has you concerned for the teenagers. Those two are devious with games like that. 

It’s the perfect kind of relaxing afternoon that’s also engaging. You try out as many things as you can and just get lost in the fun of it all. Don’t really think about Joshua or your earlier conversation. Definitely don’t feel any kind of way when the person securing his harness lingers a little longer than necessary, seemingly flirting with him. It’s too far away to tell if he’s flirting back. Not that you should care, either way. The distraction lets Jeonghan ram into the side of your bumper car and forces you back into your mission of chasing after your best friend. 

Several hours later, your whole group is ready to leave. It’s been a lot of fun, but nobody wants to get completely worn out. Especially when you have dinner reservations at a nice restaurant and then plans for an escape room after that. So, you pile back into your cars and head back to the house to get ready again. Joshua lets you have the bathroom to get ready because you want to take a quick shower without washing your hair. He’s not going out of his way to fuck with you and it’s a bit disarming. Still, it’s better than before, right? 

Dinner is even better than expected, but you’re careful not to praise it too much. Can’t have Mingyu pouting over thinking the professional chef does a better job than him (even though it is literally the chef’s job). Nobody drinks too much, either. Except it’s not because you drank the night before. No. Jeonghan, like the true chaos demon that he is, tells you at dinner that it’s actually two escape rooms because it’s too easy with 10 people and you’ll be splitting into two groups. So, it’s kind of like a competition to see who finishes first. That sharpens everyone’s attention. Well, after Soonyoung makes a joke about finishing first, of course. You can tell that people are looking around and wondering who the best teammates are going to be or how you’re going to split up.

Somehow, your friends let you and Jeonghan be on the same team, which feels like an unfair advantage when the two of you do these a lot. It’s been a tradition of yours for years, even now when they’re not as popular anymore. It’s a little surprising that Joshua doesn’t press about also being paired up with you. It seems like the perfect chance to give you a hard time and you know he wants to win. He just heads to the other group without a word, though. It hits you while you’re getting ready to start your room that he also left you alone during the entirety of dinner. Weird. But, then the timer starts and nothing else matters. 

Soonyoung whines the whole way back to the house about how unfair it was to have to go against you and Jeonghan. It’s good natured, though. He admits that he still had fun even if his team only made it out with a few minutes to spare. Your team had over 10 minutes to spare, by comparison, so it hadn’t exactly been a close fight. The bickering picks back up again when you get out of your cars and Soonyoung can argue with Jeonghan again. It’s incredibly endearing to watch them that way. Fills your heart with warmth. This really is the perfect weekend away with friends. 

“Oh, I brought my karaoke machine!” Soonyoung says as everyone is dispersing into the house.

“Soonyoung…” you start, exasperated.

“I’m in!” Jun squeals and Soonyoung is off to retrieve it without another comment.

“I’ll start mixing up some drinks,” Sana says with an affectionate sigh. 

“I’ll help,” Jennie agrees. 

Even though nobody else shows any enthusiasm, you all get sucked into the mess with the promise of drinks. Soonyoung actually doesn’t have a bad voice at all when he’s not trying to be as ridiculous as possible. It’s nice, though, because this isn’t the kind of thing you can’t do at home when you share walls with other people. Or not the kind of thing you should do. Soonyoung, in particular, does not need any more noise complaints. 

Jeonghan takes the seat next to you and it’s comforting to have him there, even if it’s not exactly a quiet moment. The two of you go over some of the more difficult clues from the escape room and wonder if you could have gotten through the other room just as fast. Figure you probably could because the difficulty levels were the same. The two of you are nothing if not confident in your abilities. Somewhere during the conversation, Joshua plops down on Jeonghan’s other side and shares what it had been like in their room. More chaotic than yours, by the sounds of it. 

“Hey, I didn’t ask,” Jeonghan says suddenly, turning to Joshua. “I saw you were getting some extra attention from that worker putting your harness on for the rock climbing wall.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Joshua says dismissively. 

“It didn’t seem like nothing,” Jeonghan presses, ever the pest.

Joshua gives him a look that seems to convey a silent conversation. It’s strange to see when you’re so used to doing that with Jeonghan yourself. “She was just asking about our plans and if we needed any suggestions or wanted a guide to anything.”

“So, she was hitting on you,” Jeonghan concludes, smug for a reason you don’t understand.

“Maybe,” Joshua says with a shrug. “I told her it was a friends trip and that we were set.”

“Not interested?” Jeonghan presses.

“No,” Joshua says without explaining. 

“Can’t imagine why,” Jeonghan says like he knows a secret. You recognize the tone well. What you don’t recognize is what the secret is. 

“I’m gonna go get a refill,” Joshua says and stands up abruptly.

“What was that?” you ask, watching Joshua as he retreats into the kitchen.

Jeonghan only shrugs like he doesn’t know what’s going on. You might believe it on anyone else, but you know better with him. “I think I’m going to go see if Soonyoung wants to do a duet.”

With that nonanswer, Jeonghan also stands and heads over to see what Soonyoung has for song options in the app he’s using to connect to the machine. Something about the whole interaction feels off. And though you still don’t know if you even like Joshua, you get up to follow him into the empty kitchen. At least, you’re going to continue telling yourself you’re not sure if you like him. 

“Are you okay?” you ask and he turns at your voice.

“Fine, why?” he asks. It’s not how he normally interacts with you.

“I don’t know, you just seem off,” you say. “Jeonghan can be a shit sometimes, but…”

“But, you’ll give him a pass and not me,” Joshua finishes and it pulls you up short. “Sorry, I…”

“No, you’re right,” you agree and that does surprise him. 

“Are you okay?” he asks and starts to slip back into his more normal self. “Admitting, I’m right? I should check your temperature. Or should I call my family? Is the world ending?”

“You’re impossible,” you grumble. You turn away from him to refill your own drink.

You can feel his presence rather than hear it over the sounds from the living room. Know he moves to stand right behind you. “And you missed me messing with you today, admit it.”

His voice is low again and entirely too close to your ear. You hate the way you have to fight your reaction to him. Hate the way he flips a switch and sends you spiraling like this. You can’t admit that it felt weird to not have him messing with you. Won’t admit that you fell right into his trap with him being short. It even occurs to you that Jeonghan might have helped set the whole thing up. After all, who knows you better than your best friend?

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you say. 

“If you ask me to stop messing with you, then I will,” he says, still standing just behind you with his mouth near your ear. “If you tell me that you genuinely can’t stand it after last night and after we talked this morning, then I promise I’ll leave you alone.”  

“And if I don’t ask you to stop?” you ask, so quietly that you’re not sure he’ll hear you over the din. He does, though. His soft chuckle is confirmation of that before he steps away.

“Then, I’ll be very happy to keep seeing more sides of you,” he says.

By the time you actually turn around, he’s retreating back into the living room. You almost could convince yourself that you imagined the whole thing. Then, he looks over his shoulder and winks at you. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. He’s also confusing. This weird dynamic between you has definitely shifted and you realize it’s up to you to set the new boundaries. But, if it’s up to you to set the boundaries, then why does it feel like he’s still pulling all the strings?

You’re kind of in a daze while you try to process what’s actually going on. Outwardly, you keep sipping on your drinks and laugh along when Soonyoung does something particularly ridiculous in the name of karaoke. It seems, to most of your friends, at least, that you’re fully present. You refuse Jeonghan’s request to sing with him, like you always do. It’s just for fun, but he’s actually got an angelic singing voice when he wants to put effort in and you’re more of a sing in the shower type. It’s just friends, sure. You’re still not going to sing.

Inwardly, you’re in a constant battle. Going over all your interactions with Joshua and trying to figure out exactly what’s going on. It seems insane that he could flirt with you when he’s such a menace. Yet, your brain can’t really consider it anything else. Maybe you can write off last night as part of the game. Today, though, seeing more honesty out of him hadn’t been part of a game. And in the kitchen definitely wasn’t part of a game. You can also understand what he meant this morning. The rational part of your brain knows that it’s entirely fair to think he could mess around with you like the rest of your friends do. It’s even easy to see slipping into that despite not being close yet because he felt so immediately close to everyone else in the friend group. If you cut him some slack with that, then you can even start to see why your friends all like him as much as they do. He’s easygoing and also mischievous. Just the right combination for the friend group. 

And, okay, maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you can also admit that he’s insanely attractive. The sharpness of his jaw contrasts the soft way his hair frames his face. He laughs along with something Seungcheol says and it’s an oddly comforting sound. Makes his whole face light up. You catch yourself glancing over at him entirely too much only to find him looking back at you most times. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem that many of your other friends notice. Really, just Jeonghan, if the look he gives you means anything. 

There’s a thin between hate and love. At least that’s what you hear. Maybe you never actually hated Joshua and you certainly don’t love him now. But, you have to admit, if only to yourself, that you’re curious about him. More curious than you want to be. And it’s driving you more than a little crazy. The worst part is that he doesn’t even seem affected. Sure, he throws a lot of glances in your direction and teases you along with your friends. But, it’s just…normal behavior. Nothing that suggests that he’s having an internal argument the way you are. 

Eventually, when it’s into the early hours of the morning again, the group starts to wind down. Soonyoung has long since abandoned his singing career in favor of queueing endless videos on YouTube on the TV. Jun is playfully arguing with Jennie about something nobody else seems to understand. Sana is drifting off where she sits, prompting Mingyu to gently wake her up and help her off to her bedroom. It’s the perfect chance for you to announce to the room at-large that you’re going to bed. You miss the look that passes between Jeonghan and Joshua at your announcement. 

You get as far as a quick facial cleanse to remove any makeup before you hear the door to the bedroom open and close. It makes you poke your head through the door, though you know it could only be one person. 

“You dipped pretty quickly without actually saying goodnight,” he says and you pull your head back into the bathroom so that you can dry it off.

“And that’s an issue?” you ask when you step out into the bedroom. 

“An observation,” he corrects. 

“It seemed like the night was winding down, so I figured that I might as well turn in,” you say.

“Is that all?” he asks and takes a few steps towards you. 

“What else would it be?” you ask, drifting a little closer yourself without even realizing.

“I don’t know,” he says, but the look he gives you says otherwise. It feels like he pierces right through you with it. 

“Venture a guess,” you suggest, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“You might have been signalling me to follow you,” he suggests and you hate the way your stomach does a little flip. 

You hide it behind a scoff and turn your head. “We’re sharing a room, Joshua. It’s not like you wouldn’t end up here eventually.” 

“Have you thought about what I said in the kitchen?” he asks, changing his approach.

You lick your lips to buy yourself a minute. Don’t miss the way his eyes flick down to watch the movement of your tongue. There are a million different thoughts fighting to the front of your brain. There’s only one way to really know, though. You close the space between you and he doesn’t make a move.

“I need to see something,” you say quietly into the space between you. 

“Okay,” he agrees without even knowing what you’re asking. 

There’s no time to second guess yourself or you might lose your nerve. With your hands on his face, you pull him down to your lips and kiss him. For real, this time. Without an audience or a game or anything else. His body is tense for a second before he winds his own arms around your lower back to pull you against him. He’s confident and calm, letting you find the answer to whatever question you’re asking. You’re not even sure who deepens the kiss as your tongue tangles with his. You arch your back, pressing tighter against his chest and he lets his body follow yours. Let your hands slide from his face so your arms are around his neck. His hands slide down to land on your ass. The lightest squeeze makes you moan softly into his mouth. 

It’s him that breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he catches his breath. Doesn’t move his hands from your body, though. The chemistry with him is electric, like nothing you can remember experiencing before. With a kiss like that, it’s going to be very hard to act like your body doesn’t want him. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” he asks, still breathing a little harder than normal. 

Of course he’s concerned about that because he really is just as nice as all of your friends say. “Enough that my guard is down. Not so much that it stops me from knowing what I want.” 

“And what do you want,” he asks. The low tone of his voice is going to drive you insane, actually.

“You,” you say simply.

“Don’t toy with me,” he warns you. 

That makes you pull away so that you can look at him. “I’m not. I don’t have any answers for you, I just know I can’t ignore whatever this is that’s drawing me to you.” 

“Then don’t,” he says and pulls you back into him. 

The kiss is demanding. The kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. Even more consuming than the first kiss where you just wanted to see what would happen. You have no idea what any of this is going to mean and you’re not even sure you care. It’s a problem for later when your head isn’t clouded with nothing but thoughts of his man that drives you insane. A conversation to have in the light of day, maybe. 

His hands are everywhere on you and you’re not sure how you haven’t appreciated them more before this moment. They squeeze at your ass in a way that makes you press into him. They run up your sides and make you shudder. Tease across your breasts even though you’re fully clothed. It shouldn’t turn you on so easily. Shouldn’t have you making so many soft moans that he catches. It’s better than you could have imagined from the way he whispered in your ear the night before. And he hasn’t even moved on to kissing down your body. Not yet, at least. Without warning, he breaks the kiss again and you’re a little embarrassed at the way you follow his lips. Joshua doesn’t say a word as he disappears into the bathroom and returns with a couple of towels. Rolls them up and presses them against the crack in the door. Thankfully, your room is separate from the others. Still, you don’t want any of your friends hearing whatever is about to happen. At least this should muffle it a bit. 

“Are you still sure?” he asks when he finishes with the towels.

“Yes,” you say.

“Because if we keep going, I don’t think I can stop. Not now that I’m getting a taste of you,” he says and you shudder. 

“I don’t want you to stop,” you say. 

Any hesitation disappears when you utter that simple sentence. He turns you around so that your back is to his chest and brushes your hair to the side. This time, he’s not just whispering in your ear. He's running his tongue along the shell of it. Kissing behind your ear while his hands grip your hips. You wiggle your ass against him experimentally and appreciate the way he moans into the kiss. He continues on to the pulse point of your neck, sucking in just enough so that it won’t leave a mark. The way he takes his time is going to be your undoing. When he starts pressing you forward to one of the beds, you don’t even fight him. 

Before you can collapse onto the bed, he turns you around again and kisses you hard on the lips. Lets himself get lost in you again. Uses one of his hands to hook your leg up around his hip and deepens the kiss even further. You cling to him for balance and trust that he won’t let anything happen to you. It’s insane the way everything can change in a moment. The way your entire view of him changes when you stop fighting over nothing. Then he grinds into you and your thoughts go blank. He’s not even hard yet and you can only imagine what he’s going to feel like when he is. It’s too much. Enough to make you pull away so that you can start stripping out of your clothing. Joshua watches you for a moment, pupils totally blown, before doing the same. 

Your breath catches at the sight of him. You already know he’s beautiful, but this is something else. He’s all lean lines without it being too much muscle. Deceptively in shape for someone that never shows off his body. You would have had no idea, especially with the way your other friends show off their own bodies. It makes you self conscious for a second until you see the look in his eyes. The way he drinks in every inch of you like he can’t believe this is happening. Like he’s the lucky one in this situation. And he’s the one to close the space between you. To reach out and put his hands on your bare skin, resting them on your waist to pull you closer. When he kisses you again, it’s strangely soft, at complete odds with being naked against him. When his kisses trail down your neck, you have to try to stifle a moan. Remind yourself that you’re still in a house full of your friends. 

Joshua backs you up against one of the beds as he kisses down your body. He stops every time he finds a spot on your body that’s a little more sensitive. Gives you a little more attention there. You swear it feels like he’s smiling against your skin when he pulls noises out of you. That smile that’s so familiar to you that you don’t seem to mind so much anymore. Not now when his lips feel so good on you. Gently, he presses you back so that you collapse onto the bed. You’re about to move back when he catches you. Leans over you to kiss you breathless again. But, he’s pulling away too soon and crouching down so he’s between your legs. It pulls you up short because surely he’s not…

“Can I taste you?” he asks, low and a little desperate. He pushes your knees open gently, experimentally. 

“You don’t have…” you start and he chuckles. It’s insane that he can pin you in place with a look.

“I know that I don’t have to, but I really fucking want to,” he says. 

“Okay, but this angle…” you start again, feeling a little too exposed. 

“Is perfect,” he finishes without hesitation. “You’re stunning and all I need for you to do is say yes. Let me show you just how well my mouth works.” 

“Fuck,” you whisper out, losing any remaining nerves or self consciousness. “Yes.”

“Thank god,” he whispers like a prayer. 

You expect him to dive right between your legs. Of course he doesn’t, though. He kisses up the inside of one thigh. Lets his breath ghost across your wet core as he moves to kiss down the inside of your other thigh. You cannot let this man get you begging. Not so soon. Not like this. But, you don’t have to. The look he gives you before putting his mouth where you need it the most is sinful. Full of lust and desire and designed to ruin you. Not that he needs to know that. Gently, he places a kiss against your center. Looks up at you from under his lashes and you’re struggling. Thankfully, he doesn’t keep you waiting. He licks a stripe up your center. Must feel how wet he’s already gotten you. It seems to be driving him crazy, too. He licks deep into you, eating your pussy like a man starved. A loud moan escapes you before you clamp a hand over your mouth and knit your other hand in the sheets. Joshua adjusts so that your legs are over his shoulders and he can tilt you back. His tongue hits you at a new angle and you think you might lose it. He pulls back just for a moment to flick his tongue across your clit and suck it into his mouth. The look he gives you says he knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows that he’s going to push you over the edge entirely too soon. 

It’s the best you can ever remember feeling with a man between your legs like this. He definitely knows what he’s doing. And you’re in such a haze that you can’t hold back. Can’t stop the praise that falls quietly from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from telling him just how pretty he looks. How much you love the sight of him there. How good his mouth feels. All of it seems to spur him on more. When his mouth returns to your pussy, you really do think you’re going to be done for. You can’t believe that it feels this good without him even using his fingers. But, that coil forms low in  your tummy and you know it’s only going to be a minute. 

And then he does the worst thing imaginable. Pulls his mouth from you just as you’re about to cum. The look you give him is pure betrayal. For a horrible moment, you wonder if this has all been some kind of trap. Until he smirks at you and rises to lean over you again. Joshua puts one large hand behind your head and kisses you hard. Desperate. You can taste yourself on his lips and his tongue. Can feel how turned on he is by the way his dick hits your skin and he groans into your mouth. It’s kind of satisfying to know that you have him this worked up just from eating you out. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper against his lips between kisses. 

He groans. “I don’t think I have a condom.” 

You pull back and look at him. “I’m covered and I’m clean. So as long as you are, too…” 

It’s kind of cute to watch the way he blinks, clearly trying to make sure he heard you right. “I’m not sure…”

“You don’t want to?” you ask and he must see something in your expression because he softens. 

“Believe me when I say I want you more than fucking anything in the world,” he says. It doesn’t escape you that he says he wants you. Not that he wants to like you said. 

“It’s okay. If you say that I can trust you, then I will,” you assure him. He’s so unguarded that it actually makes your heart skip a beat. 

“You can trust me,” he says softly. 

There’s entirely too much emotion for you to process behind those four words. So, you pull him back into you to kiss him. Hope he feels what you’re not going to say. Not now. He seems to understand, though, because he kisses you back just as fiercely. Using his free hand, he lines himself up at your entrance. His tip teases your folds and you moan. It would be entirely too loud if Joshua hadn’t caught it in the kiss. Maybe he does know what he’s doing. He’s definitely the one protecting both of you from being overheard by your friends. Friends that you’re not even sure had gone to their rooms before this all started. You quickly cast that thought from your head.

Joshua presses in and out of you slowly. Takes his time because he doesn’t have a condom (or any lube) to make the slide easier. The pace drives you crazy, though; You hook your legs around his hips and he braces himself with one hand on the bed. The other grips your hip to anchor you. You run your hands all over him as he continues to gently ease into you. Note the way he gasps into your mouth when you tangle a hand in his hair. Smile against his lips at the way he reacts to your nails on his scalp. Think it may be the death of you when you run your nails down his back and his hips stutter. You do it again and he nearly growls. Actually breaks the kiss to look at you. 

You’re just about to ask if it’s too much when you register the look on his face. His voice is low, warning. “You’re going to be the death of me if you keep that up and I’m not even inside you.”

“Then maybe you should hurry up,” you say back, almost challenging. 

This is a game you can’t win. Not when he looks like that. Joshua moves his hand from the bed to your hip so he’s only gripping you. You get one look at his face and know you’re fucked before he snaps his hips, bottoming out in you. Lets you moan for a split second before he catches your lips again. 

“What was that?” he asks against your lips. 

You’re totally fucked. Absolutely done. The way he fills you feels perfect. It’s just the right stretch and you know he’s going to hit exactly where you need him to. Your brain goes totally blank. You forget that this is the same man who’s been a demon. Forget that you’re not going to beg him for anything. It all goes out the window.

“Please, I need you to move,” you say and try to wriggle against him. 

He chuckles a little. Presses feather light kisses to each side of your mouth and then along your jaw without moving inside you. Moves one of his hands from your hip to gently brush hair off your face. Then, he’s smiling that confident smile. “Well, since you said please…”

With his hand on the bed next to you again, he starts actually thrusting into you. You tighten your legs around him so they’re not dangling off the bed. You let your hands roam his body, exploring every inch of him. Try to map what he reacts the most to through the haze of the tension that’s building up within you again. Joshua alternates between kissing you and whispering praise into your skin. He’s so free with it. There’s nothing cocky about it, either. Not now, at least. His pace is steady, alternating between shallow thrusts and deep ones that make you shudder. He makes a small adjustment to the angle and it takes everything in you not to scream out. You clap one hand over your mouth with the loss of his lips on yours. Your other hand knots in the sheets and you throw your head back. Joshua picks up his pace. Can tell that you’re close. He must be too because he presses a thumb into your clit. Rubs quick circles over it and that’s too much for you. The coil snaps and you’re coming hard around his dick. He keeps fucking you through it and releases just after you, somehow managing to keep his thrusts relatively even through his own orgasm. 

He leans over you and kisses you again, messy and needy. You respond even though you can’t catch your breath. Drunk on the thought of him, but feeling entirely sober now despite drinking earlier in the night. Your chest rises and falls in time with his when he pulls back and just gazes at you. He’s still inside you and you’re sure it’s not comfortable to be arched over you next to the bed. But, he doesn’t seem to care. The gaze is so soft and you have to turn your head, just for a second. Joshua, instead, gently turns you back to him and brushes some of the sweaty hairs away from your forehead. Runs his hand down your body and gently helps you disentangle your legs around him. They feel a little stiff from how tightly you held on. Then, he slowly pulls himself out. Watches where you’re sure a little cum leaks free. It makes you wonder if he’s thinking he wants more like you do. Except, you know that you can’t really risk it again tonight. 

“Let me go grab a towel,” he says and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

All you can do is nod and flop back against the bed. Your whole body feels relaxed. Satisfied in a way that you haven’t been in a while. Unconsciously, you trail your fingers over your lips and along the parts of your body where you can still feel his touch. His presence lingers on you like a blanket. Comforting and warm. You don’t even realize you’re smiling. 

“If you keep doing that with a smile, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from diving between your legs again,” he says.

You roll your head to the side to look at him. Push yourself into a sitting position so that you can watch him walk back over to you. He really is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen in your life. “I think we’ve probably pushed it enough for tonight.”

That makes both of you chuckle. “Probably. Though, I might not care if it meant you kept making those noises.” 

Without your permission, your cheeks flush and you look away from him. This time, he lets you have the moment. Instead, he goes to work wiping the sweat clear from your body. There’s shouldn’t be that much care in the gesture, but there is. Joshua Hong is good at a lot of things, apparently, including aftercare. You watch fondly as he gently wipes between your legs to make sure nothing dries there. 

“I know there’s…a lot to talk about you,” you start as Joshua steps away. He turns back to you, looking a little guarded again for the first time. It hurts your heart. “Joshua, I promise I’m not saying we’re not going to talk. I just wanted to know if we could get ready for bed and talk in the morning?” 

“Oh,” he says, relaxing again. Smiles at you in a way that you’re not sure you can handle. It makes you want to tell him to be gentle with you. “Yeah, of course. It’s been a long day.” 

“Thank you,” you say.

In a second, he’s back over in front of you to help you up. You roll your eyes and swat at him for a second, but do let him help you. You stretch your body out, arms over your head,  and miss the way Joshua stops to watch you as you roll your neck. Then, you do catch him looking at you and he plays it off by offering you one of his baggy shirts to sleep in. Considering it for half a second, you accept and grab a pair of the boy shorts you like to sleep in. The ones you haven’t worn yet because you weren’t expecting to be sharing with him. The two of you stand together and do your nighttime skincare routines. He stands behind you, wrapping an arm gently around your stomach as he brushes his teeth. It doesn’t feel clingy like it would in another situation. Just very soft, which is going to be an issue for tomorrow-you to handle. Your heart seems to be rushing way ahead of your head.

Joshua disappears for just a moment, after checking the door, to grab waters for both of them. He returns without any issue. Neither of you says anything about it when you both get into the same bed together. It just goes unsaid as you let him pull you against him. Both of you relishing in the comfort of the other as you fall into an easy, dreamless sleep. Nope. definitely not going to be any issues here. 

It takes a moment for your brain to clear the next morning. Not because you don’t remember the night before. Your brain is just in that hazy half-asleep, half-awake state when you register the arm around you. As you’re waking up, you glance over at Joshua’s face. Peaceful, again, like you noticed yesterday morning. Completely unguarded while he sleeps. 

Except, he also looks entirely different to you now. Sometimes things look different in the light of day. Sometimes, a new day dawns and you wonder just why you made a decision. That’s not the case for you. Not this time. Your body warms at the thought of him. It doesn’t make you want to pull away like other times, either. Even though you know that the path forward might be complicated at first. Or it might involve a lot of teasing. None of that seems to turn you away from this man that has so many more layers than you realized. 

As you’re looking over at him without really seeing him (because you’re zoning out in your thoughts), you realize his breathing changes. He’s awake now, but still looking very groggy. He pulls you into him, letting your legs tangle together, and kisses you gently. You can’t even fight the way you melt into him. The kiss is slow, languid. Not desperate like the night before. In any other situation, you hate kissing first thing in the morning. You’re not going to stop to think what that means this time. 

Joshua pulls away and smiles at you. “If I keep kissing you, I’m never going to be able to get up and our friends will definitely know something’s up.” 

“Fine,” you sigh. 

“Guess you don’t hate me anymore,” he teases, running a finger along your arm and watching the goosebumps spring up. 

“I don’t think I ever hated you,” you say and earn a look from him.

“You don’t think?” he questions and you break first, smiling. 

“You can never be totally sure,” you say. 

“Maybe we’ll have to test it again,” he says to play along.

“Guess so,” you agree easily. 

“So,” he starts and moves to sit up. You mirror him and cross your legs. “You mentioned needing to talk…”

“Yeah,” you agree and take a deep breath. “I’m not really sure what’s happening here or if it was just, like, a one-time thing to get some tension out…”

“It wasn’t for me,” he says, interrupting you. Takes a steadying breath like he needs to prepare for the next bit. “Was it for you?” 

It’s vulnerable, honest. You can’t ignore that he’s being brave. That he’s putting himself out there without knowing where you stand. This is the thoughtful Joshua you’ve heard so much about. The one that makes friends as easily as breathing. Just as he looks away, you gently reach out to take his hand. “No, it wasn’t for me, either.” 

“Don’t do that to me,” he breathes out as the tension disappears from his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a smile and can tell he forgives you immediately. “This has caught me a little off-guard.”

“Me too,” he agrees and the considers. “Not in the same way, though, I don’t think.”

“I’m confused,” you admit. 

He takes a breath like he’s bracing himself again. You’re not sure for what, though. You’ve already been honest. “I already knew I had a crush on you.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

“I’ve had a crush on you basically since moving in with Jeonghan and I’d basically given up before this trip. I didn’t think you’d ever consider me. Now it seems like maybe it wasn’t just one sided,” he says. 

“Maybe not,” you concede. 

“I think Jeonghan might have known. He definitely teased me about it even though I never told him. He’s too observant,” Joshua says with an eye roll. 

“It’s just…” you start and frown. “I want to figure things out with you and there’s a lot of questions to answer, so I’m not sure that I’m ready to…”

“Let our friends in on it?” he asks with a soft chuckle. You nod, thankful he doesn’t seem mad about that. 

“Yeah,” you agree, unsure of what else to say. 

“I can agree to that,” he says with a mischievous smile. “When we’re out there with our friends, I’ll keep teasing you like I always do.” 

“Great,” you interrupt with an eye roll. 

“But, when we’re in here,” he continues, the heat from the night before returning to his gaze, “I’m not going to act like I don’t know what you taste like. Or what you sound like when I fuck you.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” you squeak out and cover your face.

Joshua gently pulls your hands from your face. He kisses you softly. “Sorry, it’s out of my system. For now.” 

You swat at him and he quickly jumps off the bed. Maybe it’s not him you need to worry about giving you away. He’s got the easier job, after all. Normal for Joshua and you, in the eyes of your friends, just means he’s teasing you. Feeding into your distaste for him. But, how do you act annoyed by him after last night? 

Pretending everything is normal proves to be just as difficult as you expect. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like anyone heard you the night before. The house is big and several of your friends need to sleep with some kind of background noise on. Plus, everyone had been drinking, even if nobody (other than Soonyoung or possibly Jun) had been drunk. That’s at least one hurdle that makes your day easier. Joshua carries on acting like he always has with you and you try to give your normal responses. Try not to let on that anything has shifted between the two of you. Rationally, you know that whatever is forming between the two of you is a good thing. Know that your friends would be happy for you (after teasing you relentlessly). That’s not what holds you back. It’s that you and Joshua need the chance to figure out whatever it is by yourselves. Without having to answer questions from your friends that you can’t answer yet. 

The schedule during the day is relatively busy. There’s a scenic train ride that includes an amazing brunch buffet. Some of the sights through the windows take your breath away. Everything seems quiet, untouched. You and Jennie sit together and just watch the world go by, commenting on the beauty or else catching up on life. Everything about it is relaxing and just what the group needs. Even the train ride itself is smooth, a feat you’re not sure how they accomplish. It’s easy to see why it’s such a highly rated thing to do in the area. And, since Joshua isn’t sitting right next to you, it’s not so hard to pretend like everything is normal. Well, except for one comment that he makes that causes you to blush a little and earns you a skeptical look from Jennie. She’s not as observant as Jeonghan, though, so you think you manage it fine. 

After the train ride, you all walk around in town to explore the little shops. Soonyoung and Jun take off giggling and chasing each other, for no apparent reason. Just for the vibes, probably. You mostly focus on window shopping unless something catches your eye. It’s just nice to be out in the fresh air. There’s also something about the shops that make you feel like you stepped back in time, a little. It’s not a bad feeling. It just adds to the sense of calm you feel. 

One shop draws you in because it’s local, handmade jewelry. That’s definitely a favorite for you because it feels unique. Special. Some of the pieces you get from big chains can feel impersonal. The handmade pieces feel like they tell a story. They feel more perfect for any of their imperfects. Sana, Jeonghan, and Joshua follow you into the store, dispersing to look at different pieces. 

“What do you think of these?” a soft voice asks from your side, making you jump a little. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” you ask, heart racing, as you turn to Joshua. 

“It’s fun to see you jump,” he says with a shrug. That glint is back in his eyes. 

“I’m not sure that’s your color,” Jeonghan chimes in, nodding at the necklace. Where did he come from? 

“Maybe it’s not for me,” he says with an easy shrug, looking at the necklace again. 

“Ooooh,” Jeonghan teases. He turns to you. “Lucky person, don’t you think?” 

You level Jeonghan with a glare, surprising yourself how easy it is, at least for that moment, to pretend. “I’m not sure about lucky since it’s Joshua. He does have good taste, though.” 

“That’s probably as close to a compliment as you’ll get from her,” Jeonghan says and elbows his roommate. 

“Nobody can resist me forever,” he says and throws you a wink that has Jeonghan laughing as they head in another direction.

Once again, you really want to ask him to be gentle with you. How are you meant to act like everything is fine? How come he’s trying to make this even harder on you? Then, you remember him asking your opinion on the necklace and realize he’s struggling, too. It makes you feel lighter knowing that he wants to buy you something from this store that drew you in all while you haven’t even figured out what’s happening. He did say that you could trust him. And you want to. A scary thought, to be sure.

The next stop on the agenda is a late afternoon murder mystery show. There’s audience participation and it’s something several of your friends have been talking about all weekend. The audience participation part may not be the most appealing to you, but it does sound interesting. At least, until Joshua makes sure to sit right next to you during the show. And lets the actors comment on what a cute couple you make without correcting them. He actively encourages them, instead, and it makes your friends howl with laughter. It’s painfully on brand for how he interacts with you, but it makes your brain short circuit a bit. Makes you stumble over a response before you gather your composure again. It’s par for the course for Joshua, but definitely not for you. You carefully avoid the questioning look from Jeonghan. You don’t trust yourself in the moment. If anyone could read you and figure it all out, it’s definitely Jeonghan. When things settle down, you do glare over at Joshua, though.

By the time you make it back to the house, having decided to get a bunch of take out and make your own feast, you’re just happy the day is over. Spending time with your friends is great. Pretending you didn’t fuck Joshua the night before, not so much. Despite agreeing not to tell your friends yet, he’s making it as hard as possible. Each time he needles you a little, it’s like he’s trying to figure out more about you. Trying to figure out your reactions to file them away for some later use. At this rate, Jeonghan, as your best friend and Joshua’s roommate, is going to figure it out. Especially if he’s already figured out Joshua had a crush. Yet, Joshua doesn’t seem concerned. Well, two can play at that game. 

Mingyu and Jun head into the kitchen to set up the spread of food, even though there’s no cooking involved. You, along with several other friends, excuse yourself to change into more comfortable clothes to hang out in. When you return in yoga pants and a slightly cropped sweatshirt, you revel in the way Joshua does a double take. Feel immense satisfaction at the way he drinks you in before looking away. He disappears, probably to change and buy himself a minute, and you smile to yourself. By the time he returns, you already have a plate and he doesn’t take the open seat next to you. His eyes bore into you, though, and you know that he knows it’s your way to push back at him a little. 

After you all finish eating, you notice Joshua in the kitchen and get up under the pretense of needing something to drink. He hears you coming and looks around to see that all the rest of your friends are still in the living room area and talking.

“What happened to pretending nothing happened?” he asks softly.  “I could ask you the same.” 

“I’m only teasing you like normal.”

“And I’m only putting on comfortable clothing, same as anyone else.” 

The look he gives you says he doesn’t believe a word of that. “You’re gonna give me a semi in that outfit with the way you keep moving around. God, I sound so pathetic.”

“No, you don’t,” you say, but your eyes sparkle. “Guess I shouldn’t say that I’m not wearing a bra or any underwear.”

“You…what?” Joshua gapes at you.

Instead of answering, you just grab your drink and head back to join your friends. You don’t have to turn around to know that his eyes are on you. The point definitely goes to you for this round. And maybe it sends at least a little message because Joshua tones it down a little the rest of the night. 

Compared to the other nights, this one is pretty tame. You all know that you have to head back home the next day, even if you don’t have to get an early start. Some people have a drink or two, but it’s just casual. You agree on something to watch and all settle in. Soonyoung struggles with sitting still for that long, and Mingyu pouts that nobody will cuddle with him in the oversized chair. He can’t understand why you don’t give in when he can convince you any other time. But, otherwise it’s just nice. Easy. The perfect kind of ending to a wonderful weekend away with friends. 

Slowly, people start excusing themselves to go to their rooms and nerves hit you again. You’re going to be alone with Joshua and you’re not really sure what to expect. Don’t even want to make eye contact with him because you don’t trust yourself to keep it together. So, you just stretch your arms out and say goodnight to the room. Figure you can leave it to Joshua to decide when he follows you to the room. 

It takes longer than you expect. Longer than it did the night before, by far. You turn some music on, just loud enough that it may cover anything that happens. But, it’s at least twenty minutes before the door opens. Long enough that you consider just going to sleep. Long enough to think that maybe the moment in the kitchen had been a step too far. 

You rise off your bed when he closes the door behind him and take a few steps over to him, preparing to say something. He doesn’t give you the chance. He closes the space between you and catches your lips in the most bruising kiss yet. Groans when you gasp into his mouth. He backs you into the wall and presses himself hard against you. There’s no space for you to move. He presses your legs apart so that he can slide one of his own legs between them. One hand rests behind your head, cradling it so you don’t hit the wall. The other hand runs up your side and under your sweatshirt. Rough and a little possessive. A very different side to him and it’s turning you on more than it should be. 

Joshua pulls away from you just enough so he can run his hand across your breast, confirming what you said about not having a bra on. He groans again, jerks his hips against yours almost involuntarily. He breaks the kiss and you gasp for air.

“I can’t believe you really came out without a bra just to tease me,” he whines out. A little desperation slipping into his voice. 

“I can’t believe you waited so long to come to our room that I considering going to sleep,” you retort, a little bratty now that you realize he’s not mad.

“I couldn’t come right away because it would have been obvious,” he explains. “Then, I started to think about you not wearing a bra or underwear. And the way I would have you clenching that pretty pussy around my dick again and it took a second to calm down.” 

“Who says I’m gonna let you fuck me again?” you challenge. 

“Don’t play with me,” he whines, some of the confidence disappearing. 

“I won’t,” you say, suddenly serious. 

You kiss him again to say the things you’re not sure how to. He gets the message, though. Your lips chase his when he pulls away entirely too quickly. But, he ducks his head and pushes your sweatshirt up without taking it off completely. Runs his tongue over your nipple and drags it between his teeth. It makes you arch into his mouth. It’s kind of hot, actually, the way he can’t wait to have his mouth on you. He switches to your other breast and is sure to give your body all of his attention. In response, you drag your core along his thigh that’s between your leg. Searching for any kind of friction. 

In any other situation, you might be embarrassed by how quickly your body reacts. Joshua erases that, though. You’re not even sure how. Despite all the time you’ve both spent terrorizing the other, it’s insanely easy to trust him. Easy to feel confident when he reacts to you just as strongly. Easy to just let things happen when he’s so willing to be desperate for you. No games, no bullshit, just making sure you’re both feeling good. 

The friction just isn’t enough anymore and you need more. Don’t want to keep riding his thigh while he laves over your breasts. You pull his face up to kiss him again and let your sweatshirt fall. His pupils are blown and somehow the confused look he gives you is cute. You’re not sure how he does it. A thought for another time, anyway. You pull him over to that reading nook you were so excited about and haven’t used. Push your yoga pants down your legs and kick them aside. Bend over and look over your shoulder at him. The lust is clear on his face.

“I just need you inside me,” you say and watch his eyes get wider with surprise. “Please.”

“God, I love hearing that from you,” he admits. “Think I’d agree to anything if you asked me like that.” 

“Simp,” you tease.

“Absolutely,” he agrees without any teasing. 

You don’t have a chance to react to the honesty in the statement before he’s pushing his own sweatpants down and kicking them aside. Casts his shirt aside even though he doesn’t need to. He presses your lower back so you’re bent at the right angle and you arch your back. Impatiently, he pushes your legs a little farther apart. The next second, he’s gathering your wetness and pressing a single finger into your pussy. Trying to at least prepare you a little. In no time at all, he inserts a second finger and pumps quickly into you. You reach for one of the pillows to bury your face into it so that you can moan little more freely. Joshua bends over your back and presses kisses into your skin. 

“Please,” you say again, pulling your face from the pillow. “I don’t wanna cum on your fingers.”

“Fuck,” he mutters and pulls his fingers out. 

It’s a moment before you feel him again. You bury your head back into the pillow when he presses his head against your entrance. You wiggle and encourage him to press harder. Any self control he might have disappears and he snaps hard. Soon, the sounds of skin on skin mingles with the music and your muffled moans. Joshua moves your leg so one knee is on the bench and he can get a better angle to fuck you. His hands wander your body. Digging into your hips hard enough that you imagine you’ll have fingerprints there. Flicking a thumb across your nipple. Finally working down to your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts.

Entirely too quickly, your body shudders as the orgasm rips through you right as Joshua finds his own release. Your legs feel like jelly and you’re not sure if you can keep standing, even as you’re trying to come down. But Joshua, surprising you again, carefully pulls out and drags you over to one of the beds with him. You collapse, sliding further up to make room for him and pulling the sweatshirt off, finally. Except he doesn’t settle next to you. No, he settles between your legs, pressing them open. 

“Joshua, what…” you start to ask, breathless still. 

What becomes obvious immediately. He licks into your cunt, gathering your cum that mixes with his own. If you thought he was a man starved the night before, it’s nothing compared to tonight. He’s not taking his time with you, either. Not giving you a chance to recover. You’re so sensitive, but the way his tongue laps at you feels amazing. You knot a hand in his hair and he groans, sending a vibration through your pussy. This time, when he moves his mouth to your clit, he slides a finger inside you. Quickly adds another. You can’t believe the way your body responds to him. Can’t believe how good it feels even though you’re so incredibly sensitive. You bite down on your own fist to stop yourself from screaming out the way you want to. The end of this trip can’t come soon enough. You absolutely cannot wait to have him in your own space where you don’t have to worry about friends overhearing. 

The second orgasm hits you so hard it whites out your vision. Has you coating Joshua’s fingers and mouth. He guides you through your high as all the tension leaves your body. You feel like you’re nothing more than a puddle on the bed when you feel him settle next to you. After giving you a minute to catch your breath, he pushes himself up to hover over you. Gives you what should be a gentle kiss until you wrap your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. Even though he offsets some of his weight, there’s still a pleasant heaviness having him on top of you. It’s so comfortable that you could kiss him for hours without getting sick of it.. 

After a long moment, he pulls back to look at you. That tender look back on his face. “I hope that was okay.��

“You know I’m not complaining,” you say earnestly.

“I was wondering if I could make you squirt,” he teases and he’s all confidence again. You swat at his arm and pretend you’re going to wriggle away.

“I take it back,” you joke.

“No, you don’t,” he says, confident without being cocky.

And then he’s kissing you again. You’re back to tangling yourself up with him. Just letting things happen without overthinking anything. There’s something wonderful about this side of Joshua that just makes your mind go blank. Not even in a fucked stupid kind of way. It’s more like it just feels right. You feel safe and cared for in those moments. You also both feel a little insatiable. Simultaneously wanting to kiss for hours and unable to stop yourself from it turning heavier. 

Joshua pulls back from the kiss and flops dramatically onto the bed next to you. You roll over and pro yourself up on an elbow to look at him. His eyes find yours, affectionate and also very clearly turned on. “If you don’t stop this, I’m going to want to be inside you again.” 

“Me?” you ask, pretending to be shocked. 

“Yes, you,” he says and leans forward to kiss your nose. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say and flutter your eyelashes.

“I bet you don’t,” he says quietly, unable to stop the light laugh. Then, takes a breath and sits up. Swings his legs out of the bed and reaches back to you. “Come on. Let’s clean up and go to sleep. We’re heading home tomorrow and it’ll be a lot easier to figure this out without so many nosy friends.”

You pout but accept his help, anyway. He’s right. Even if you can’t really get enough of him, you’re already going to be a little sore from this and you have an endless amount of time to figure things out. As you fall asleep that night, tangled up in him, you feel confident. This isn’t something confined to the little bubble of a vacation. He’ll tell you exactly how he feels and what he wants once you’re back home. Help you be brave enough to be just as honest. It’s definitely going to be enough.

The next morning is a flurry of activity. Everyone seems to have left packing for the morning, even though there shouldn’t be much to do since it’s only been a few days. People mumble greetings to each other around bites of breakfast as you all clean up. Somehow, things seem to have spread out much more than expected and you want to make sure everything is in good shape before leaving. Not that you let it get genuinely messy. It’s just that there’s 10 of you and you don’t want any sort of extra cleaning fee slapped onto Mingyu’s credit card. You’re still thankful he volunteered to take the charge (though, obviously, you all split the cost). 

It also becomes clear that even though the check out time isn’t early, you should have set an alarm. Add in the fact that you’re very much sore thanks to Joshua, and it’s an interesting morning. Neither of you is trying to keep up any sort of facade around the other because the focus is making sure you’re ready to leave. It keeps you from even worrying if anyone notices something different. Then again, if things go the way you expect, all your friends will find out that something is going on soon enough. It’s just a matter of timing. A thought that puts you in an incredibly good mood. You don’t even notice that you’re humming while cleaning until Soonyoung starts singing along to the tune. 

Worrying about anyone finding out becomes a moot point when you’re all getting ready to leave. At least, in part. Really, you should know better than to try to get anything by Jeonghan. After years of friendship, he easily knows you at least as well as you know yourself, probably better. And he knows something is up. You’re not sure if he knows the specifics. Don’t really want to think about if he somehow heard you and Joshua the night before. 

Jennie seems to know something is up, too. You’re not sure whether she figured it out or if Jeonghan told her. Probably the latter, if you’re honest. She’s generally a little easier to fool that Jeonghan. As he’s prone to telling you, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, and nobody does bullshit better than him. He loves sniffing out a scheme almost as much as he loves coming up withit himself. It confirms your suspicions when you see him and Jennie whispering together then looking over at you. He doesn’t leave you waiting for his response either.

“Jennie’s coming back with me,” Jeonghan announces. “She offered to drive my car, and how can I say no?” 

“And I’m supposed to head home alone?” you ask skeptically. 

“Of course not!” Jeonghan says, pretending to be offended. 

“We just thought you and Joshua could use the drive to work out whatever your issues are,” she chimes in, sharing a look. 

“It’s like you don’t want them to make it back in one piece,” Mingyu jokes, but doesn’t otherwise comment. You can’t tell if he knows anything.

“Even I’m not going to leave you stranded in your time of need,” Joshua says, immediately falling into the plan. You can’t read the look on his face and you wonder if he already knew, too. Probably, knowing Jeonghan. He’s a demon, but he’s not cruel. He’s not going to put you in a situation you genuinely don’t want to be in without checking. 

The rest of your friends laugh and continue to load up the car. You just shake your head at your best friend as he approaches you. He turns over his shoulder to call to Jennie. “I’ll be there in a sec!”

“What are you up to?” you ask in nearly a whisper.

“The better question, bestie, is what you’re up to,” he says, eyes sparkling. You open your mouth to protest and he holds up his hand. “You’re not as slick as you think you are. Did you forget we’ve been friends for a decade?”

“No, you’d never let me forget,” you joke and Jeonghan rolls his eyes. 

“I told him that I didn’t expect him back tonight. But, please know, if I’m right, then I will be teasing you both without mercy,” he says and it’s your turn to laugh.

“There’s my best friend,” you say with a smile still in your eyes. 

He’s serious for a moment. This is the side of Jeonghan that he reserves for only those closest to him. You wait patiently because you know whatever he has to say is important. “You seem happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Don’t be afraid of that. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Hannie,” you say softly. 

“Even if you did totally ignore the point of a single friends Valentine’s getaway,” he says, returning to his normal self as Joshua approaches. 

“Goodbye,” you say and push him away. 

His eyes fall on Joshua. “Take good care of her. You’re a great friend already, but she’s family.” 

“I will,” Joshua promises and plucks the car keys out of your hand. 

“Hey!” you protest and hear Jeonghan laughing as he walks away. “That’s my car.”

“And I’m an excellent driver,” he says before dropping his voice lower. “Come on and be my passenger princess.”

He really is going to have to stop making your brain short circuit like that. It’s diabolical. But, then again, that’s exactly who he is. Not like you expect him to change now. With one last look at the beautiful house, you get into the passenger door that Joshua holds open for you. You’re very thankful that you gave the weekend a chance. Even more thankful that you gave the man next to you in the driver’s seat a chance. He reaches a hand over to squeeze your thigh and you know it’s going to work out just fine. 

if you made it through that insanity, thank you and tell me what you thought 💕

tag list: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @honglynights, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya, @lostmembrane, @thestraybunny

[harrysfolklore]

oscar piastri being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | oscar smau

Oscar Piastri was known as the introvert and reserved driver on the grid.

While other drivers basked in the spotlight and didn't shy away from sharing details about their personal life, Oscar often preferred to keep his privacy.

However, when it came to his girlfriend, it was a different story altogether.

Oscar was what people called "a total simp" when it came to his girlfriend, always bringing her up in interviews, promo videos and casual conversations, and fans couldn't miss the opportunity to make several compilation videos and tiktoks about it.

The most popular one was called "Oscar Piastri being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation" and the 15-minute long video was filled with moments that made fans both awe and laugh.

It started with the clip of the first time he publicly talked about her during a podcast interview, rumors about him not being single were spreading around but nothing was confirmed.

"I do have a girlfriend, yeah," Oscar said, a small smile playing on his face.

"You're not very public, aren't you?" the interviewer asked.

“We keep it to ourselves and try to be out of the spotlight and just live normal lives,” he replied, “We have been dating for over four years now, she has been there for me since the start of my career and I couldn't imagine my life without her. She's my biggest supporter and keeps me grounded.”

The next video showed Oscar and Lando sitting next to each other wearing their McLaren shirts, filming a game called "Green flag or Red flag."

"Picky eaters," the interviewer asked and Lando immediately waved the green flag.

"He's a very picky eater that's why," Oscar said, making Lando laugh, "But, what if they eat fish, cause you hate fish."

Lando dramatically raised the red flag, making everybody laugh again.

"You wouldn't date a pescatarian then," the interviewer said.

"No," Lando shook his head, "They shouldn't be here."

"My girlfriend's a pescatarian, actually," Oscar said, looking at his teammate with a raised eyebrow, "I'll pass that on to her.”

"Noooo mate!" Lando immediately shook his head, waving his hands in mock horror, "Don't tell her I said that, I don't want to be in trouble with your missus! She's a lovely girl."

"She is indeed, but I don't think she'll like you very much after this."

The next segment was from his "Day in the Life" video with Quad Lock, where Oscar gave fans a glimpse into his daily routine. In one particular clip, he was in the kitchen making breakfast.

"So, this is where the magic happens," Oscar said with a cheeky grin as he poured pancake batter onto a hot griddle, "My girlfriend loves pancakes, so I make them every Sunday. It's become sort of a tradition for us."

The camera then panned to a candid shot of his girlfriend, who was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee and smiling fondly at Oscar. She blew him a kiss, which Oscar caught with a playful wink.

"There she is, sitting pretty while I play housewife."

The next clip in the compilation was from a press conference, where a journalist asked him how he manages to stay focused with such a demanding schedule.

"Having a supportive partner really helps," Oscar said earnestly, "She understands the pressures and the demands of the job. She’s my rock and makes everything a lot easier."

"Does it get hard for her when your schedule is too busy for your relationship?"

"My schedule is never too busy for my girlfriend, I always make sure to make time for her. That's why we've been going strong for four years now."

Another McLaren game with Lando was included, this time they were playing Finish the Lyric with Taylor Swift songs.

"Do you feel confident about this game, Oscar?" Lando asked his teammate.

"I do, actually," Oscar nodded confidently, "My girlfriend is a huge Taylor Swift fan so I know a lot of her songs."

"We should get your girl to come and play then," Lando teased.

"She'd probably beat us both, hands down. But I'm not giving up just yet." Oscar chuckled, shaking his head.

The compilation video then transitioned to a moment in the McLaren garage before the first quali of the Hungary Grand Prix. Oscar was off to the side, chatting with his girlfriend, who had joined him for the event.

They seemed to be in their own little bubble, Oscar's attention completely focused on her and his smile wide as he listened to her talk. The camera captured a sweet moment where he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about their relationship and fans absolutely melted at the interaction.

The next clip showed Oscar at a fan event in Australia, hundreds of fans gathered to meet the drivers and see them up close, Oscar was answering questions from the interviewers when he suddenly addressed one of the fans in the front row.

"I've got a girlfriend, thank you," he said into the microphone, making everyone laugh but look confused at the same time, "For everyone wondering, she just asked what my number was," the crowd laughed again even louder, "But I'm a happily taken man. You're nice but I'm not interested."

In that same event, he got asked what did he miss the most from the UK when he was back in Australia.

"My girlfriend," he immediately said, "Other than that the food is better here, the weather is better here. So my girlfriend, that's it."

The following video was also a fan interaction, this time it was a fan recorded video while he was signing stuff for those waiting for him as he arrived to the paddock for the Austin Grand Prix.

Oscar was signing autographs and taking pictures, when a fan handed him a photo of him and his girlfriend from a race weekend.

"Oh, this is a great picture," Oscar said, grinning as he looked at the photo. "This was taken at Silverstone, right? It was her first time at a race with me. She loved it."

"What's her favorite part about the races?" The fan smiled and asked.

"Probably the adrenaline and seeing me in action," Oscar chuckled, "But she also loves hanging out in the paddock. She gets along really well with everyone here."

The next clip showcased Oscar during a Twitch stream, where he was playing a racing simulator. His girlfriend walked into the room, and the chat exploded with excitement.

"Hey, love," Oscar greeted her, pausing the game.

"Am I interrupting you?" she softly asked.

"Nope, come here," he encouraged to come closer, "Everyone, this is my girlfriend," she waved at the camera, and Oscar wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into the frame. "She's the reason I'm still sane," he joked, earning a kiss on the cheek from her.

The video included one of everyone's favorite interactions between the couple, captured by McLaren's instagram team.

Oscar had just finished a quiali, earning a P2 position, the camera caught as he reunited with his girlfriend who threw her arms around his neck as soon as she saw him.

"Hiii," he shyly said, a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

"You did such a great job, baby," she said, still wrapped around his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on," he replied, his voice soft and genuine.

The final clip was from the FIA Prize Giving ceremony, Oscar stood on the stage, dressed in a sharp suit, the Rookie of the Year trophy shining in his hands.

"First of all, I want to thank my team, McLaren, for believing in me and giving me the opportunity," Oscar began, his voice steady but emotional, "But most importantly, I want to thank my girlfriend. She's been my rock through it all, supporting me every step of the way. This award is as much hers as it is mine."

The camera panned to his girlfriend, sitting in the audience with tears in her eyes, smiling proudly. The fans watching the livestream couldn't help but gush over the touching moment.

As the compilation ended, the screen faded to black with the text, "Oscar Piastri: The Ultimate Simp, and Proud of It."

[giannaln4]

I'm Sorry

lando norris x fem reader

summary: A moment of frustration made Lando react the way you never thought he would, and boy, would he regret it.  (1.6k words)

warnings: angst, swearing, argument, mean lando,  fluffy ending

a/n: ok so for this, i decided to go back to Baku and put the quali result in a totally different perspective than my last fic. i guess i kinda like it but i'm not very good at describing arguments 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

ALSO i have an announcement to make and i'm really excited for it :)

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

The qualifying this weekend was an absolute mess, to say the least. Lando was hard on himself no matter the result he got. Even if it was good, he would always find something to criticise himself, but P17? Everyone was in for a treat, you thought.

The worst part is that it wasn’t even his fault; it was a stupid mistake by the marshals, and he was not to blame for it. A yellow flag interrupted his lap, and he was immediately kicked out in Q1. 

Seeing the first qualifying session being over with his name in red was not something anyone wanted to see, especially not him, and now that every point was essential, you knew it crushed him.

He came back to the garage to see the rest of the qualifying with his team, and as soon as he got out of the car, you saw how frustrated he was. You understood him, of course, it sucked that this is how the weekend was going, but you would be there for him no matter what.

Once Lando took off his helmet, he headed straight to his driver’s room, and he didn’t even look at you when he walked past. That meant he wanted to be alone, but oh silly you, you decided to follow him.

He let out a loud sight when he heard the door open and close behind him, not really in the mood to hear what you had to say. He knew for a fact you were going to tell him he did well and it wasn’t his fault, which he greatly appreciated, but right now, he just wanted to suffer in peace.

“Baby?” You called him out, just testing the waters, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he hummed in annoyance. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but-”

“You are right, I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted you, not even turning around to face you. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned into it, taking a deep breath. 

That should have been your cue to leave the small room and leave him alone, but for some reason you didn’t. “Lando, don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure things will be better tomorrow. We all know what you can do and you still have the race-“

“This is MY job, Y/N. I probably know better than you do,” he snapped, raising his voice and finally turning around. “This is what I’m fighting for, we all are. Do you know what’s at stake here? I finally have the chance to compete for a championship, and I just blew it.”

To say you were astonished was an understatement; this was the first time he ever snapped at you that way and you didn’t know how to react. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“Every point counts, and not even starting in the top 10 tomorrow- fuck, not even top 15, there is not much I can do.” Now, he looked more mad at you than frustrated at himself, and that crushed you. “I came here to be alone for a bit, I was hoping you would at least respect that." You stayed silent, knowing a single sound would make you cry, and you didn’t want to piss him off more than he already was. “I know you are trying to help, but you are not, you can’t.”

You just stared at him, tears threatening to leave your eyes; he had never raised his voice at you in a heated moment, and it hurt like hell. You definitely should have stayed outside. 

He walked towards the door and stepped out of the room without uttering another word, leaving you alone to deal with your own feelings. 

As soon as the door was closed, you started crying. It was your own fault, really; you could always read him like a book, even today, and you knew better than to disturb him when you weren’t supposed to, but today for some reason you just couldn't keep your mouth shut. Idiot.

You tried to calm yourself down; the last thing Lando needed was to see you cry on top of his result, but it was harder than you expected. This being the first time an argument got so out of hand made you feel absolutely terrible, especially because it was your fault. Deep down, you knew he didn’t mean it, you knew it was his feelings talking, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

A few minutes went by and you could still hear the cars out on track, the mumbling of the team, and people constantly working out there, so you tried to use that as a distraction. Anything to take your mind off what just happened. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t help, but at least you ran out of tears, and now you were just staring at a blank wall, thinking how you could begin to apologise for earlier, if he would even give you the chance to. 

Truth is, you weren’t sure if bringing it up again would be a good idea; you wanted to apologise for disrupting his cooldown moment, but what if hearing that made him mad again? Or worse, what if you didn’t apologise and made the situation even bigger? Your spiralling made you lose track of time, and a knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“The car is about to leave, Y/N, they are waiting for you,” you heard someone say on the other side of the door. You were at least hoping Lando would come and get you once it was time to go back to the hotel, but he didn’t.

“Thanks, I will be there in a minute,” you replied, grabbing your things and Lando’s before sprinting outside. 

The car ride was hell. Lando didn’t look at you the entire time; he was just staring at his phone, texting who knows who, his face as neutral as ever. It felt longer than it actually was, and when you finally got there, he just stepped out of the car and didn’t look back. You let out a sigh and followed him, leaving a prudent distance between the two of you. 

Once you were in the hotel room, you both started to get ready for bed, like you usually did, except this time, you didn’t acknowledge each other. 

That was until you were already on your side of the bed and he came out of the bathroom, taking the spot next to you and burying his face on his phone again. The entire time you were building up the courage to say something, anything, now that you decided that apologising was the right thing to do.

“Lando?” You called for him, but again, he just hummed in response. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right, I shouldn’t have said anything, and I should have respected that you just wanted to be alone.”

That’s when it hit him. How could he get so mad at you for trying to make him feel better? 

He dropped his phone and turned to face you, and noticing your sad expression and teary eyes broke him. His eyes softened as guilt washed over him. Why were you apologising when he was the one who reacted like that? But as soon as you looked down at your hands to avoid eye contact and tears started falling down your face again, he felt even worse. 

“Y/N… Baby, I’m so sorry.” He got closer to you, softly taking your cheeks in his hands to get you to look at him. “Please don’t cry, I’m sorry I acted like a dick and raised my voice at you,” he stared, wiping your tears away, carefully thinking about what else he could say. 

You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to react. Your plan was to apologise and hopefully move on, but now that he was apologising, you didn’t know what to say; you didn’t want him to feel guilty, even though it was his fault you were in that position right now. If only he took a different approach. 

“It wasn’t your fault, okay? You were just trying to help, and I should have appreciated that, you know that I do, I just... I don’t know, there is no excuse for what I did.” But you were still silent and trying to avoid eye contact. “Baby, say something.” 

“Lando, you yelled at me.” You finally replied, your voice a bit muffled by your tears.

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that, and I promise I’ll never do it again.”

After a minute of silence, you just nodded, which made him let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Okay? I’m sorry, my love.” He pulled you into a hug, your head on his chest as he placed a soft kiss on your head. “I know I was a dick, and I really wish I was nicer about it.”

“It’s okay, I get it; you were frustrated with your result, and I should’ve known better than to interfere with what you were feeling.”

“No, it’s not okay. I was frustrated, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Lando was rubbing your back softly, trying to bring you the comfort you tried to give him earlier. “I love you, and I can’t describe how much I appreciate everything you do for me; I know having to deal with my shit is not easy, so thank you.”

“It’s fine, I mean it.” You looked up at him, locking eyes finally in the entire day. “Just... don’t push me away, okay? And if you do need to be alone, just say it, and I promise I will listen next time.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

He gently placed a hand on your check, rubbing small circles before leaning in for a kiss, one both of you much needed. And with one final ‘I love you’, you feel asleep in his arms.

[parfaitblogs]

making the bed ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your night crumbles around you, and spencer is happy to pick up the pieces. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort  tags: established relationship. (prior) alcohol consumption. reader is semi-drunk (but sobers up). post drinking depression. healthy alcohol information/discussion 🫡 word count: 2.1k a/n: do not read too much into this for you will begin to question why i still enjoy going clubbing. (joke...) 😄 plsss tell me if u liked this or even if u didnt thank u i love uuuuuu

Alcohol is a depressant. 

You remembered the God awful lecture your boyfriend had given you when you woke up one Sunday morning with this feeling of existential dread, and nothing to pin it to. A ramble about how alcohol can temporarily increase the body's production of dopamine and serotonin when entering, causing a worse crash of both chemicals when it leaves. Leaving you, evidently, depressed and anxious after a big night. 

You knew that. 

You also knew how quick you were to seclude within your mind when you were with people. Too many drinks and not enough social interaction tended to lead to your own isolation, sitting on the outer edge of the booth, absentmindedly playing with the charm on the end of your phone. 

The room no longer spun the way it had an hour ago. You missed when it spun. When it spun, you weren't thinking about how little you had to contribute to the conversations your friends were having. You weren't tallying up how many drinks you had already drank, then falling flat when you realised you couldn't remember, and that was a thought more horrifying than knowing it was over ten. You were fun, when the room was a carousel. 

Now, it's simply overwhelming. Loud chattering from both your table, and the surrounding ones. Clinking of glasses at the bar. A sports game on the television across the room. Balls on a pool table being dispersed for the first time in a game. Dancing feet. Music. People. So many fucking people.

Your phone buzzes against the table, and you pick it up before any of your friends could turn their heads to see where the vibrations were coming from. You figured they were too drunk to conclude it was you, anyways. Or to care. 

Spencer had texted you fifteen minutes ago to check in on you, and though it wasn't long ago, you not responding immediately in a flurry of half strung together sentences and emojis was worrying for him. That was probably why his name was now lighting up your screen, a funny photo of him mid-bite of an ice cream as his contact photo, enlarged. 

You hadn't responded for no reason other than the fact that you had no will to. Which should've been a big enough red flag to yourself that you should text him, and you should ask if he can pick you up. Thankfully, he loved to prove how well he could read you, and he was calling you anyways. 

"Hi," you mumble into the phone, angling your body away from your friends, hand held up to your other ear to block out some of the noise the best you could. 

"Hi," he parrots back to you. "You okay?"

An automatic yes manifests on your tongue, but you're quick enough to keep it to yourself before you can lie to him. Instead, you let out a quiet, "No."

He seems to have expected that answer, for he leaves no silence in between your admission and his response. "What can I do to help?" He also seems to be expecting your hesitance at asking him for anything that would require him to move, because he adds, "I can pick you up. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. Please?"

"I'm already leaving," he tells you, and you can hear his shoes against the wooden floor of his apartment to confirm that. "Did something happen? Are you safe?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm safe," you reassure him. "I started feeling sick so I stopped drinking an hour ago. Now I'm just sad."

"You remember what I told you about it being a depressant?"

"Vividly," you mutter, and while it isn't meant to be funny, you hear him huff a short laugh anyways. It makes you feel a little better. 

"It's important to know," he defends. "I'm sorry I shared important information with you."

"Mm."

Your lack of a verbal response was expected, but he still hated the sound of it regardless. You heard him sigh. "I have to hang up now. I'll be there in forty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

No matter how much time had passed, your head lifted every time the door — that your group was so conveniently close to — opened, letting in a rush of cool air and sobering you up with every hit of it. 

True to his word, Spencer was entering the bar after forty minutes, face scrunching up at the sudden onslaught of noises and visual stimuli. Same boat as you, only he had not a drop of alcohol in his body. At least you weren't crazy about it being overstimulating. 

"This is why I don't go to bars," he says once he's approached your booth, and you had stood up next to you, his hand finding an automatic place on your waist. 

"It's usually not this bad," you tell him, but he decides not to ask you anything else upon hearing just how exhausted your voice sounds. You're grateful for that.

The goodbye to your friends is quick, Spencer rattling off a lie about him needing you home for he had work early the next morning, and you only had one key to the apartment. Even the friends who knew that wasn't the case didn't comment on it, and you made a pointless mental note to thank them for it later. You knew you wouldn't. 

The drive home was even faster. Silence, aside from the rush of the wind from your slightly cracked window as Spencer drove, that helped the sick feeling in your stomach from the alcohol you had consumed. 

It didn't seem to help the hollowness of your chest, though.

You weren't sure if anything would, really. A chemical imbalance in your brain — even one as temporary as the deflation from being drunk — was hard to fix without medication. It would go away, yes. But then you would make the mistake of drinking once more, and you would find yourself back in this brain peeling predicament. 

You showered alone. Despite Spencer's offer to join you, and your own personal desire for him to be there with you. It didn't help your fogged mind at all, and you were exiting the bathroom feeling like you had retreated further into your bones. Every movement felt clunky, your skin a heavy coat to your skeleton, restricting your movement down to short shuffles and barely lifted arm movements. 

He was reading when you reentered your bedroom, and you've never seen him put a book and his glasses back on his bedside table faster. He looked visibly tired. Keeping himself awake a seemingly difficult struggle, that you could feel your body heading towards to as well. 

"Hey," he says as you climb into the bed, and he's very patient as you figure out what position you want your bodies in. Head on his chest, but next to him, you had decided on, and his fingers entangled into your hair.

"Hi," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, counting brush strokes of the paint, as if it were possible to.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You huff at the phrase, tilting your head upwards so your eyes could land on him. "Do you have a penny?"

He pauses, then angles his head closer towards yours. "Okay, kiss for your thoughts?"

"That'll just distract me."

"Is that what you want?"

You should say no. Arguably the last thing you should be doing when you're sad is let intimacy with your boyfriend distract you. But then again, you're not the best advocate for healthy coping mechanisms anyways. 

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he muses, and his lips brush against yours. Your heart flutters. 

"I don't really know what I want," you settle on telling him, honestly. "I want my brain to shut up."

His body deflates beneath you, and you feel guilt chip away up your spine at the killing of the less depressing atmosphere. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

"No. It's good. Be honest with me," he reassures you, quietly. His fingers tap at your scalp, "What's going on up here?"

"I'll cry if I try to verbalise it."

"Crying's good for you, you know," he hums.

"I'm pretty sure I still have eyeliner in my waterline. I'll just stain your sheets," you retort. 

"Yeah, probably. That's fine."

You're silent for a few moments, gathering your thoughts in your brain the best you could despite yourself, before you sit up, his hand dropping to the bed beside you.

"I just don't like being... here? Out? I don't know. I'm just really sick of being sad every time I drink. Is there something wrong with me? Did you get sad whenever you drank? Everyone else I know loves going out for drinks because they have fun and they're giggly drunks, or they're clingy drunks. And if I drink too much then I'm a fucking sad drunk, and I'm the only person I know that gets that way. I want to be normal."

He's silent your entire rant, and then some, waiting for your heaving chest to slow, having caught the few tears that slipped down your cheeks. You were grateful — you needed that time.

He reaches a hand out, and you let him tug you back down to the bed, slotting your body atop his own, just so he could see you properly. 

"To answer your question, no, I didn't get sad when I drank," he says, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hands rest on either side of your face. "But I wasn't really happy, either. I just talked more."

"You already talk a lot."

His lips twitch. "I do. Double whatever you think my worst is, and that was me drunk. Focus on the part where I said I wasn't a happy drunk, please."

"But you weren't sad. So there is something wrong with me."

"No, there's not. Alcohol is a depressant," he punctuates his words with a kiss to your nose, which you gratefully accept despite your emotions. "Are you willing to give up alcohol as a whole?" 

"My friends will think I'm boring, then."

He hesitates in his response, but ultimately settles on asking, "Do you think I'm boring because I don't drink?"

"No. Obviously not. And you have a real reason for not drinking, so—"

"—and being sad isn't a real reason to not drink?"

Taken aback by his sudden sternness, you go quiet, breath hitching within your throat. He was right, ultimately. No reason is reason enough. You knew that. 

Sensing your discomfort at his tone, he expels a breath of air and lowers his hands down to your hips. His voice drops to something a little less harsh, as he murmurs, "You are allowed to not want to drink alcohol if you don't like the way it makes you feel. If your friends think you're boring for that, then they're not worth it."

You silently nod your head, beginning to curse your emotional regulators. For while you had kept your tears at bay for the vast majority of this conversation, it seemed all it took was the gentle rubbing of circles onto your hip bones, and a fact checked piece of life advice from your boyfriend to make you cry. 

"Sorry," you sniffle, dropping your head to the crook of his neck to hide your newly tear stricken face. 

"Crying's good for you," he repeats his earlier words, and feels you nod your head. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'd encourage you not to, actually. You're technically still intoxicated."

"I'm sober," you protest, weakly. 

"Okay, honey." He's only agreeing with you to wane any further argument. "I don't think your friends will think you're boring, though, if that's any help."

"I don't think they will either."

He nods his head, and you're relaxing against him a little more. 

"Are you just trying to not be the only loser who doesn't drink?" you mumble, voice muffled by his skin.

"You've caught me."

He relishes in the laugh that leaves your lips, and he places the gentlest of kisses on the side of your head, which prompts you to lift it to look at him again. 

"You're not a loser for not drinking," you say, and his lips pull into a smile. 

He leans his head up, brushing his lips against yours, despite the mix of mint toothpaste and alcohol on your tongue. "I know. You wouldn't be either."

"I know."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[ririblogsss]

I have found inspiration to write :).

The flash for the fist time in forever stop moving. No twitching. NO moving his leg up and down. No running back and forward to the cafeteria for snacks. He was completely still with his jaw open looking past Batman who at the moment was giving the league members an overview of the missions that have been happening within the past month. Immediately everyone locked in, Flash not moving major red flag. Batman caught it first and proceeded to turn around in a split of a second and froze (caught of guard) this caused the other league members to slowly turn their heads and eyes away from starring at the Flash. And they couldn't believe their eyes.

Superman had his jaw dropped.

Flash was pointing and unable to form words the only sound escaping his mouth was vocals "aa" "ee" he was over all gobsmacked.

Not like the other leagues were fairing any better. It's just that their eyes could not make their brain correctly process what they were seeing. And what they were currently seeing was a teenager with white hair with a box of donuts and drinking something out of a coffee cup. Now this is the watchtower everyone has seen teenagers from various backgrounds to say the least enjoy their coffee and snacks. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that the teen wasn't one of theirs. Not that it really matters Batman.

What actually matters is that the kids outside. IN SPACE. How is he surviving. How isn't he dead? Is he an alien? Then why is the box of donuts from earth?

And the kid has the gull to smile sheepishly?????

---

Danny only wanted help. HE SWEARSS. And the Justice League wasn't helping after they had been spammed with calls for help against the Ghosts. Amity parkers think that the JL has banned them from making calls. So Danny decided if they won't come. He will go to them, but his parents did not raise a disrespectful child the Fentons maybe break tax laws and driving laws and overall all OSHA regulations. BUT THEY NEVER DISRESPECT (unless warranted) ANYBODY. And Danny wasn't about to misrepresent them. So he brought a box of donuts and his fathers homemade fudge in hopes to make some sort of slightly good impression.

So taking a breath in (as a force of habit) he knocked on the watchtowers window and didn't become intangible and go in until Wonder Woman nodded with her head yes.

Batman was side-eying WW, but Danny decided that Wonder Woman had more decision power in this instance.

So with the approval that he may come in Danny made himself (and everything else) intangible so he could enter. Once inside he realize that Jazz had been correct in telling him to at least know how he was going to approach the subject.

He placed the treats on the table and made a gesture that they could eat. He took a sip of his hot ecto and then he opened his mouth.

"Why are you guys hunting us down for sport? w-we are people too"

Danny said it in such a broken voice with teary eyes. He really should have practiced first.

The JL choked.

[thefallenangelsgang]

I'm sorry to everyone who follows me for other shit but I'm going to keep posting about the Watcher situation because marketing fascinates me. I find advertising to be sickening and exploitive, but marketing as a concept is fascinating.

I'm just majorly wondering what the FUCK is going on at Watcher HQ right now. It's still relatively early on the West Coast (almost 8 am at the time I am writing this) but their lack of response is throwing up a lot of interesting markers to me (not necessarily red flags but flags all the same.)

The immediate pull back on response speaks that they knew what they were doing in terms of PR at least initially. They had their employees delete any interactions with dissenting fans, there was radio silence except for clarification on what will remain on the Youtube. Their only mistake was making that Patreon announcement with sneak peaks for the site (I can only guess they were banking that the Patrons were most likely to follow them in the move and sorely miscalculated it). Steven's post was... problematic. But he posted it before all of the backlash started so while it didn't help it wasn't a doubling down when faced with a lot of backlash.

While saving face is almost always a smart thing to do, this silence has gone on a little bit too long. They have lost tens of thousands of Subscribers in 24 hours. Their announcement video has over a 1:4 Like/Dislike ratio. Fans are talking and starting to spin the situation in ways that are actively detrimental to the company. It should be top priority to get a response out. This is crisis mode y'all. They had all day to secure a PR representative if they didn't already have one to try and salvage this and yet? Still more radio silence from the official channel.

That creates the question: are we going to see a response today or have they chosen to wait until the traditional work-week starts again? I can't help but think that waiting is a terrible idea. The fanbase is getting out of hand. They need to salvage what they can and letting the situation fester isn't going to help. Or, the even worse option is that they are going to continue like this isn't happening, which is an EVEN WORSE idea.

Whatever happens I'm watching with a perverse fascination. Its been a long time since I've seen a media blunder like this.

[favefandomimagines]

Daylight (r.c)

Summary: it takes Rafe some time to realize what he has

AN: this is very one tree hill code with JJ being very Lucas Scott esque lol and this was PURELY self indulgent, no one asked for this

Y/N Routledge sat on the edge of her bed, feeling like she could throw up at any second. The little plastic stick in her trembling hand bore the answer she had been dreading and hoping wasn’t true. The bold letters stared back at her like they were mocking her.

Pregnant.

Her mind raced. It felt as though the world had tilted off its axis. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight. What now? Who could she possibly confide in about this? How could she even begin to explain? The answer wasn’t simple, not when the father was Rafe Cameron.

For a year, their relationship—or whatever it was—had been a secret. Late-night meetings, whispered words in the dark, stolen moments when no one was looking. There had never been an official label on it. Rafe had made sure of that. “Labels complicate things,” he’d said, and Y/N, hopelessly drawn to him despite every red flag, had agreed.

But now? Things were complicated anyway.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. The door swung open, and there stood her brother, John B, looking confused and concerned.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning against the frame. “You’ve been in here for a while.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. She shoved the pregnancy test behind her back, but she wasn’t fast enough.

“What’s that?” His eyes narrowed, the easy-going brotherly demeanor replaced with something sharper.

“Nothing,” she blurted out, but John B wasn’t buying it.

He took a step closer. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

The lump in her throat grew too large to ignore, and before she knew it, the words came tumbling out. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

For a moment, John B just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, with a long exhale, he sat down beside her.

“Okay,” he said carefully. “I’m not gonna ask who the father is. That’s your business. But whoever it is, he deserves to know.”

Y/N looked down at the floor, her chest tightening. “I don’t even know how to tell him,” she admitted. “What if he doesn’t want this?”

John B reached over, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Then you don’t need him. You’ve got me. And the rest of the Pogues. We’ll figure it out. This kid's gonna have a pretty cool life, Y/N. I promise.”

Y/N nodded her head. “I’m so scared, JB.” She whispered. John B nodded his own head before he pulled his sister in for a tight hug.

“I know you are. But you’re gonna be okay. I’m here.” He told her gently.

||

Later that evening, Y/N stood nervously outside Tannyhill. Her palms were clammy, her stomach a mess of nerves. She had rehearsed what she wanted to say a thousand times, but now that she was here, the words felt like they dried up in her throat.

When Rafe opened the door, his blue eyes scanned her face, immediately sensing something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” he asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N fidgeted with the hem of her hoodie, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “I need to tell you something.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed. “Okay…”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out, her voice shaking.

For a moment, he just stared at her, his face unreadable. Then, as the realization sank in, his expression darkened.

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, Rafe. I’m serious.” Y/N replied.

He ran a hand over his buzzed his hair, pacing the room. “I… I can’t do this right now,” he said, his voice rising. “I’m trying to get my dad’s business back on track, and now you’re telling me you’re pregnant?”

Y/N felt the sting of his words like a physical blow. “I didn’t plan for this, Rafe! But it’s happening.”

He turned to face her, his eyes cold. “Maybe you should just do it alone. I’m not raising a kid with a Pogue.”

That cut deeper than anything else he’d said. Tears burned in her eyes as she stared at him, her heart breaking. “Really? That’s how you feel?” She asked, her voice unsteady. “Yeah, that’s how I feel. Did you really expect we were going to play big happy family?” He snapped.

Y/N let out a teary scoff before her impulsive thoughts took over. She stepped closer to Rafe, the palm of her hand connecting with his cheek, the sound of the slap echoing throughout the foyer. Without another word, Y/N turned and walked out the door.

||

One year later, and Y/N had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. It wasn’t an easy feat, but Y/N had John B and Sarah. Taking their roles as aunt and uncle way too seriously.

Now, Y/N cradled her one-year-old daughter, Isla, as the Pogues gathered on the beach. The little girl was the spitting image of her father—Rafe’s blonde hair, his piercing blue eyes. It was a constant reminder of the man who had walked away.

But Y/N wasn’t alone. John B, Sarah, JJ, Kiara, Cleo, and Pope had rallied around her, becoming Isla’s extended family. JJ, in particular, had taken to the role of honorary uncle with enthusiasm, and Isla adored him.

As JJ held Isla over the waves, her tiny giggles filled the air, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile.

“Look at you, kiddo,” JJ said, spinning her gently. “You’re a natural beach bum.”

From the corner of her eye, Y/N noticed a familiar figure further down the shore. Rafe was there, flanked by Topper and Kelce, his gaze locked on her. Then, his eyes then shifted to JJ and Isla.

He’d have to be an idiot to deny that that one year old was his. Y/N had kept the baby and now he was feeling an influx of emotions. Anger, regret, jealousy. Jealous that another man was raising his child, jealous that another man was in his place.

Y/N froze, unsure of what to do. JJ walked back to Y/N, handing Isla to her with a smile. Y/N couldn’t help but smile down at her daughter. But then she remembered who was watching them. When she whispered something to JJ, he turned and saw Rafe, his expression immediately hardening.

JJ said something else to her and Y/N walked back towards the rest of the Pogues. Rafe and JJ were now walking towards each other, JJ not messing around when it comes to Isla and Y/N.

“You need to leave her alone,” JJ said, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s my daughter,” Rafe snapped. “I have a right to know her.”

JJ scoffed. “You don’t get to decide that. Y/N does and you left her. You told her you weren’t raising a kid with a Pogue. You don’t deserve a second of her time.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Just because you’re playing house with my girl and my kid doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.” JJ laughed bitterly. “I’m not with Y/N. I’m just picking up the slack from the coward who abandoned them.”

Rafe stood there, seething with anger and regret, as JJ's words lingered in the air. But before he could say anything more, Topper yelled his name.

||

Later that night, Rafe pulled up to the old Maybank property that was now the Pogues sanctuary. He hadn’t prepared a single thing to say to Y/N. He knew there was a very high possibility that she would slam the door in his face.

What he said to her that night was harsh. He knew that and he knew he couldn’t take it back. He knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer the door. Rafe could hear the laughter and the music playing from the other side.

John B was the one to pull the door open, Isla in his arms. Rafe’s breath caught in his throat upon the sight of the little girl. “What are you doing here?” John B asked. “I’m uh, c-can I talk to Y/N?” He stammered.

Y/N’s brother looked at the man with furrowed brows, not used to seeing him in such an insecure, uncertain state. John B hated Rafe for what he did to Y/N, but Isla deserves a father. No matter how that happens.

“Y/N!” John B called. He turned away and walked back down the hall and soon Y/N appeared in the doorway.

“Can we talk?” Rafe asked. Y/N was hesitant; their last conversation did not go well obviously. “Um, sure. We can talk down at the store.” She answered.

The two walked silently down the dock to the bait shop where Y/N knew no one would be eavesdropping on them.

“Rafe, before you say anything, I didn’t want this to be how you found out. I didn’t want it to come to this,” she said quietly, her voice trembling but steady. “But you can’t just expect me to pretend like you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t want this baby. You walked away. You made your choice.”

Rafe flinched, her words cutting deep. He opened his mouth to argue, but something stopped him. The way she held Isla, the way Isla smiled at her mother, the warmth between them—it hit him all at once. What he had lost, what he could have had, and how foolish he’d been to let pride and fear dictate his actions.

“I—” He paused, swallowing hard. “I screwed up. I was scared, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to be the kind of man you needed.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, but she didn’t look away. “You had a choice, Rafe. We both did. You made yours. I made mine.”

He took a step forward, his gaze falling to the water, as if he were gathering the courage to say what needed to be said. “I was wrong. And I know it. I’ve been trying to fix everything else, but I didn’t even try with you… with Isla. I was too damn proud. Too scared. But I don’t want to be that man anymore. I want to be a part of her life. I want to be a part of your life.”

Y/N blinked, the warmth in her chest slowly spreading, though the ache of everything that had happened still lingered. “It’s not going to be easy. We can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“I don’t want to,” he said softly. “I want to start fresh. As a father. As someone you can count on.”

A long silence passed between them, the weight of the past still hanging in the air. Then, slowly, Y/N nodded. “Okay. But you need to prove it. You need to show me you’re in this. All in. For her. For me.”

Rafe’s heart pounded, but he could see the flicker of hope in her eyes. Hope he thought he’d lost. “I will. I swear I will.”

||

The sun was shining brightly over the beach house, casting a golden glow over the yard where Isla’s second birthday party was in full swing.

The Pogues, along with Rafe, were scattered across the yard, setting up and getting ready to celebrate the little girl who had brought so much joy into their lives.

John B and Pope were hanging colorful decorations from the trees and the porch, adding the final touches to a vibrant banner that read, “Happy Birthday, Isla!”

Sarah and Kie were carefully bringing out a pile of birthday gifts, wrapping paper and bows sparkling in the sunlight.

Meanwhile, Isla was darting around the yard, laughing as JJ ran after her, pretending to be a superhero.

JJ scooped her up in his arms, making jet engine noises as he spun her around, keeping her distracted so she wouldn’t see the presents waiting inside.

Rafe stood off to the side, leaning against the window frame of the house, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before him. His heart swelled as he watched Isla giggle, her little feet kicking in the air as JJ swung her around like a plane.

Her laugh was like music to his ears, a reminder of how much he’d missed and how far he’d come since that day on the beach.

Y/N, who had just finished setting the cake down on the table, noticed Rafe standing there, his eyes soft and full of affection. She smiled to herself and walked over to him, sliding her arm around his bicep as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“What’s got you all smiley?” she asked softly, her voice gentle but teasing.

Rafe looked down at her, a look of gratitude and tenderness crossing his features. “You,” he said simply. “Isla. You letting me back into your life and into hers.”

Y/N’s heart melted, and she lifted her chin to look up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. Without a word, she leaned in and kissed him softly, the kind of kiss that spoke of everything they’d been through and everything they’d built together.

As they pulled apart, John B appeared at the doorway with a grin. “Alright, JJ, it’s time for cake and presents!”

JJ, who had been in the middle of a game of "airplane" with Isla, immediately scooped her up again, making exaggerated flying noises as he carried her inside. Isla squealed with laughter, her little arms flailing in the air as JJ pretended she was a plane about to take off.

As they entered the living room, JJ passed Isla off to Rafe with a grin. “Special delivery!”

Rafe smiled and crouched down to gently set Isla in her chair. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head, a tender moment of fatherly affection. Isla beamed up at him, her tiny hands reaching up to grab his face, a look of adoration in her eyes.

Y/N stood beside them, watching with a heart full of love as Rafe straightened up and looked at her with a smile. This moment was everything they’d fought for—a family, together, stronger than ever.

As Isla sat at the table, her little hands covered in frosting as she tried to grab a slice of cake, Rafe took a seat next to her, helping her scoop up a piece. Y/N joined them, wrapping an arm around Rafe’s shoulder as she placed a kiss on Isla’s cheek.

The room was filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and joy as everyone gathered around, ready to celebrate Isla’s special day. It was simple, but perfect. They were a family now, not just by blood, but by choice. And in this moment, surrounded by love and happiness, they all knew they’d found something rare and precious.

John B raised his glass, a grin on his face as he toasted, “To my niece Isla, the brightest light in all of our lives.”

Everyone joined in, lifting their glasses in unison, as Isla clapped her little hands, excited by the attention.

“Cheers!” Rafe said, glancing over at Y/N with a smile that said it all.

Y/N smiled back, squeezing his hand. “Cheers.”

As the cake was passed around, Isla sat contentedly on Rafe’s lap, covered in frosting and giggling with pure joy. And in that moment, as they all looked on at the little girl they had all come to love, Rafe and Y/N knew this was exactly where they were meant to be—together, as a family.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

So I’m in a deeply red incredibly conservative state.  I ran a pride month 5k awhile back. The usual group of 3 protestors with an incredibly loud bullhorn showed up to yell at us about how trans people are mutilating themselves and AIDS is God’s judgement and we’re a menace to children etc. etc. etc. But they were vastly outnumbered by runners and volunteers. One of the first race announcements was that they hadn’t ordered enough T-shirts for the amount of people who ended up running, and would have to reorder, so anyone who wanted another race T-shirt should sign up now.

We’re all used to the protestors by now, they show up everywhere. We just ignore them. Interacting with them just encourages them.

I hadn’t realized how early the race date was this year compared to previous years and hadn’t prepared as much, and there were a lot of hills; not to mention there was some confusion as to the race route which resulted in the announcer referring to it post-run as a “4-mile 5k” (they are supposed to be about 3.5 miles. One guy ended up in an entirely different district of the city from where the race route was and still finished first.) I ended up walking a lot of the race, but I finished it, and did do a fair bit of running.

I had top surgery a few years ago but I’ve only gotten comfortable running shirtless this year as body fat redistribution happened. I had been trying to decide if I wanted to run shirtless or not before the protestors showed up and started yelling, then I was like ah. I will run past the transphobes shirtless like a human middle finger. And that is what I did. was wearing delightfully garish rainbow shorts I found at a thrift store and my pink triangle necklace.

Some Americorps volunteers were directing runners at one of the more confusing junctions, I high fived one and panted that I had just joined Conservation Corps. The sound of angry bullhorn shouting faded almost immediately behind us, and there were rainbow flags hanging in several of the yards we ran past throughout the route.

As in previous years, a lot of tough incredibly fit beautiful older people, mostly women, breezed past me during the race. One jogged up even with me with an encouraging “what would you do for a klondike bar!” I wasn’t sure how to reply to this and didn’t have the breath to express that I did not want anything thick or creamy at that moment, but what did come out was “you did remind me that there’s beer at the finish line.” Another lady who walked and jogged near me for awhile near the middle-latter half of the race talked a bit and complained that one of the volunteers organizing the race hadn’t set up the “water” table with fireball shots that she did for some other races and we just got a regular water and gatorade station!

Coming back to the finish line I was handed a flag and ran past long rows of cheering people. Around the corner the protestors were still lurking, but were mostly silent now. Apparently they had gotten worn out by just standing there and not running. As I passed the bullhorn guy shook himself out of his torpor enough to give a halfhearted “is it a man? is it a woman? who knows anymore?” I passed him and the sound of cheering, and then the 80s music (I remember Blondie and ABBA) they were blasting closer to the finish line.

Once most of the runners were back there was a fun run for the kids. A couple of the older ones had also run the 5k (I just know the protestors were awful to the poor guys ughh) but all of them made a lap around the parking lot and got handed medals. All of the adult volunteers and participants spread out around the middle of the parking lot so that there was someone cheering and waving flags for the kids along every step of the route.

There were free snacks, water and beer courtesy of our sponsor [brand redacted]. There was also non-alcoholic “beer”, which I thought was nice to see, I’d been thinking there was a heavily alcoholic element to a lot of local queer events. I drank a lot of water and ate some food before getting a free beer, which still hit me pretty hard after the run. While I was hovering around the refreshment table a big handsome butch came up next to me and I noticed a faded tattoo on her arm of a chain, each link a different color of the rainbow.

I went to put something down in my car just as the protestors were starting to leave, and realized that they were moving on a course that overlapped with mine as I walked to my car. I decided I wasn’t going to stop or veer out of their way and just see what they did. As I got closer they seemed to be talking about how we had definitely totally noticed that they were leaving (no one had.) They noticed me coming towards them and suddenly got quiet, avoided eye contact and skittered out of my way. Ha.

I stumbled into the nearby fundraiser to cool down and sober up in the air conditioning before I left. They were playing girl in red, rupaul, that girls/girls/boys song by Panic! at the disco, and that Taylor Swift song “You need to calm down” that some people on this site complained was cringe. The lady next to me sang along to “shade never made anybody less gay.” I bought a baseball hat.

It’s easy, I think especially if you’re very online and not very active in your local community, to start feeling like there’s no queer community in your area and we’re outnumbered by people who hate us. Unless you live in the middle of Westoboro Baptist territory that’s generally not true. I cannot stress enough how incredibly conservative and red my area is. We’ve got like 3 very loud people with nothing better to do who bother us at every event, and large amounts of people across all demographics who show up in support. I’ve been thinking about this post by @headspace-hotel about not being able to find stuff online and this is a slightly different thing but yeah. If you don’t know what there is in your area, you don’t know what you’re looking for or where to find it when searching online. If you search “is there queer stuff happening near me” google is going to shrug and recommend you Products And Services that it can Sell You. When I moved back home after spending some time in a much more blue state (but which had much less of a sense of community--I think it’s the way we band together down here when we know just what the stakes are) I felt like I was going to be the only trans person in the state, then someone mentioned to me that there was a local private facebook group for trans people to share personal posts and resources with many hundreds of members. There are more of us that aren’t on facebook. The Facebook group, though, introduced me to many more resources I hadn't known were in my area.

Get outside. Find some sort of local queer event and ask around. There will be other queer people. There is very likely something you’re interested in already happening or people who would love to work with you to start it if not. Even if you’re in a very red very rural state, you’re not alone, and chill or neutrally polite people vastly outnumber the few assholes, it’s just that the assholes are very loud and especially if you’ve been marinating in overwhelmingly toxic online environments it can feel like they’re everywhere. They’re not. Don’t give them that power.

The current legal landscape is terrifying and needs a lot of work but it doesn't reflect lived experiences. Get outside, find your local community, show up to in-person events if at all possible, it’s so encouraging.

[mv1simp]

for anon’s request: How about Lewis’ Daughter!reader like innocent and protected but Max completely makes her submit to him like actual love that she thinks Lewis is the bad guy for tryna come between their relationship? (Made it Lewis’ sister!)

Gods & Monsters ♥️

Max Verstappen x Hamilton!Reader

You got that medicine I need, fame liquor love, give it to me slowly…

As Lewis Hamilton’s younger, innocent sister, you’re desperate to prove yourself as an upcoming racer. Your family never seems to take you seriously, though, and after a fall out you end up training under Max Verstappen - your brother’s arch rival. Max promises he’ll train you to become the next world champion…as long as you do everything he asks.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin Hamilton! Reader, dark manipulative! Max, VERY dubcon, blindfolds, size kink, somnophilia, LH44 is sexist for plot reasons, ayo this is DARK!! 😙 3.4k WC

Growing up, you and your big brother Lewis were presented with two options. Either succeed, or fail to live upto the Hamilton name. Both your parents were incredibly hardworking and sacrificing - but all their attention would always go to their firstborn, the much older, bigger and better Hamilton. You were just as good as Lewis had been when starting out, spending every weekend on the track and dominating the junior karting races - but when it came time for you to progress into formula cars, your brother and father had chuckled, patting your head and saying it might be a bit too much for you, you were a lot smaller and younger than Lewis, after all. Maybe you should just stick to karting for now, or had you considered going into car design, you got pretty good grades in uni and that’s a much safer option?

You were understandably upset at the lack of opportunity to prove your last name. So you tried to sneak onto the F1 paddock, chatting up the team principals in the hope that they would recognise you from the karting podiums and recruit you into their junior teams-

But Lewis had caught on unbelievably fast, a tight smile and redirecting hand on your back as he led you out of the McLaren garage. We discussed this, baby sis Lewis said as you walked back to the Mercedes hospitality. He was never one to raise his voice but you could tell from his tone he was disappointed. You tried to argue again, saying that it wasn’t fair, you were a good driver too, but Lewis cut you off with a stern look. It’s not safe for you. The guys who race here - they aren’t like me, lil sis. You can’t trust any of them. I’m sorry, but you should stay in karting.

You’d slumped in resignation, briefly looking into the Redbull garage as you walked past - the only team you hadn’t yet gone to talk to. And home to perhaps the only driver who could understand the pressure you felt to live upto your father’s expectation - current reigning champion, Max Verstappen. Otherwise known as the bane of your family’s existence. He’d been the one to break your big brother’s winning streak, the subject of many a heated family discussion over the dinner table about how to defeat in a race. Truly, you hadn’t seen your big brother hate someone before until the day Max had crashed into him, sending him to the hospital and your heart rate into 200bpm as you prayed for his safety. Lewis had been fine, but his winning streak had not as Max went onto P1 that race.

So you had always learnt to stay far, far away from Mad Max. But last year when you’d been having a hard time on one of your karting races, and you paced back and forth during the red flag because normally you’d ask Lewis for help but he had started coming less often these days - you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You ran to open it, thinking your brother had decided to come after all - only to crane your head up to meet the handsome face of the tall Dutch Redbull driver. You’d immediately flushed, on guard just like your family had taught you to be and asking what he was doing - but he had kindly ignored your rudeness and said he happened to be here for another friend and had seen your race, did you need some advice?

You’d been so desperate to win that you had let him in, looking around to make sure no paparazzi had seen as you were sure Lewis would ban you permanently from karting if he caught a whiff of this. To your suprise, Max was so helpful and supportive, giving you excellent pointers and aggressive strategies your brother would never dare guide you towards. You’d gone onto win P1, and after the podium had excitedly gone to find Max and thank him. Of course, schat, he’d replied easily, a handsome smile on his face, making you blush. Since then Max had always been there to guide you at your races, making you win multiple competitions to celebrate together or comfort you after a loss. Your family had no idea, of course, because they would skin both you and Max alive if they ever knew about your close friendship.

But now, things were starting to reach a boiling point as your relationship with your brother became tense as he actively tried to deter your formula career. And Max - your kind, thoughtful friend Max - had definitely noticed this. So he casually informed you that the Redbull academy was recruiting, and personally drove you the trials the next week, and welcomed your excited hug into his broad arms afterwards as you sailed into P1 and were offered an immediate spot on the Redbull F2 team, so grateful that the older, experienced driver had taken such a genuine interest in your racing, unlike your own family.

When you tried to break the good news to your family, shit had obviously hit the fan and they demanded that you decline the position. It’s not that I’m not proud of you baby sis, Lewis had sighed. It’s that you cannot trust Max Verstappen, seriously - he only thinks about himself. He’ll definitely hurt you or use you to hurt me.

You had screamed and cried, saying that Max had been the only one to look out for you these last few months. You’d called the Dutchman for advice, sniffling and saying I’m sorry Maxie, they won’t let me go, I have to decline-

He’d gently interrupted and reminded you that you’re an adult, you know schat? And an incredibly talented driver. You should put yourself first for a change. You’d hesitated, because you’d never done anything without your family closely supervising you before - but where would you go, you say confused. You didn’t know anyone - you know me, Max offered. Come stay at mine while you sort things out, but don’t let it delay starting your F2 season.

You’d started crying again, telling the Dutch driver how lucky you were to have him as a friend. And that’s how you found yourself tucked into his much larger frame, on his private jet en route to Monaco, fast asleep from the emotionally charged day as he lovingly kissed your forehead. And your temporary residence at his penthouse dragged into months into an indefinite stay as he insisted it was safer for you, given the papparazzi that had gone crazy at the youngest Hamilton sibling switching sides - just for now, until it dies down. You’d gratefully accepted, becoming accustomed to his luxurious lifestyle and wanting to be in close proximity to Max. It was hard to control the thumping of your heart as you scolded yourself internally for your crush on the tall driver, who you were sure only saw you as a junior driver to guide.

Before the season started, Max had warned you that your family would interfere and try to turn you against him. You hadn’t taken it seriously, but when Lewis approached you at your first race, demanded to speak to you in person after you’d been blocking his calls for days, Max had been all to happy to get security to escort him away after you’d started becoming upset, just like he knew you would. Don’t pay any mind to him, schat. He’s probably just jealous of your success.

You’d found that hard to believe, because although your big brother had a few annoying traits, he would always be genuinely happy about your wins. But Max had planted the seed of doubt that began to crumble your inner self worth, questioning if your big bro had only been holding you back because he wanted to remain the family champion. Remaining on edge, your anxiety began damaging your racing and dropping you in the rankings. You slept fretfully, paranoid that you were going to be benched and would be forced to go home in humiliation and hear your family’s we told you so.

You let Max climb into your bed one night when he heard your muffled cries, running a soothing hand up and down your back, hungrily enjoying the view of your thick ass as your silky nightie rode up while you sobbed into his strong chest. And when you opened up about all your worries, it was only natural that he offered to be the one to train you, being the current world champion and all, right? You had lit up, so delighted that he had offered, flushed because truly you’d never met anyone so kind and giving like him.

And Max - well, he would never let an opportunity to get back at Lewis slide by. Training his precious little sister, the one he always protectively hid away from the rest of the grid? Oh, it was almost too perfect, he thought darkly. And it was an added bonus that you were so gorgeous, all dark curls, innocent doe eyes and a soft, curvy 5 foot figure under his almost 6 foot frame. But my training is intense, schat. Very strict. He made you promise that you’d do whatever he asked, no matter how you felt, because it was the only way to win - and that you couldn’t tell anyone else about his top secret training methods, especially your big brother. You’d eagerly nodded your agreement, looking up at him with starry eyes and saying Yes Maxie, of course, I trust you, thank you so much for offering, I’m so grateful!

As the weeks went by, Max proved himself to be the best mentor you could ask for. You two would train together, going on morning jogs, drinking the same protein smoothies, discussing the best overtaking techniques. All the time you two spent together made rumours fly around the paddock about the exact nature of your relationship - but Max dismissed them all with a roll of his eyes, telling you that it was so sexist of people to assume you were his girlfriend and not his junior driver. You’d agreed, althought you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Max didn’t seem to think about you in a romantic sense at all.

Your rankings started improving, but Max had said that you needed a lot more work if you wanted to reach P1, especially given your smaller size compared to the rest of the drivers. You nodded eagerly, curious when he easily picked you up and deposited you in between his thick thighs on his sim rig, ordering you to show him your driving. You’d been doing so well until he started brushing his large hands across your soft waist and whispering naughty things in your ear about how sexy you looked, how hard it was to resist you every night while you slept right next door to him. You’d squealed, confused and asking just what he was doing - Trying to test your ability to focus, to avoid any distractions, Max replies disapprovingly as your car crashed on the screen. Clearly, you have a lot of work to do. This isn’t good enough!

Oh, you’d replied, feeling foolish for thinking anything romantic of it. Max didn’t like you like that, after all. So you two resumed the daily sessions, him torturing you for hours with caresses all over your body, squeezing your soft tits and pinching your nipples through your tight camisoles, and sliding large fingers up the skirt he’d always make you wear to tease your embarrassingly damp slit. You’d gone pink in the face when he first felt it, stuttering out apologies but he just sweetly reassured you that it wasn’t your fault, just a normal reaction - like this, he’d said, pulling your small waist back so you grinded on something very large and hard tucked into his sweats. You’d never felt something like that before, having never had a boyfriend since your family always kept you under their protective eye.

But it felt sooo good, you thought guiltily, hoping Max wouldn’t mind when you would be unable to resist grinding against him some sessions. He never seemed to care, instead progressing you to the next level by slipping his cock out of his sweats one night and letting it bounce up against your most innocent parts. You had gone wide eyed seeing it for the first time, not expecting it to look soo big and thick and angry, making your stomach twist in fear. But it was business as usual as Max angrily scolded you for becoming distracted, making you restart as he began gliding his cock along your puffy folds - always separated by your soaked lace panties, of course.

Once you had become a master at being laser focused, he made you develop your senses next. A good driver is always in tune with the feel, the smell, the sound of the car, he explains. You don’t question him, obediently drooping onto your thick ass in front of his spread thighs as he wraps a silk tie across your eyes. You bite your lip from the sudden disorientation, feeling nervous, but Max’s large palm comfortingly strokes your hair. At his command you poke your tongue out and hold your palms up, waiting for the first test and he almost groans out loud from your sweet gullibility. You correctly identify a bunch of different exotic tasting fruits, specific switches and buttons on the replica steering wheel - and sassy, you giggle, when you feel Max’s cat climb into your lap. He muses that he’s going to have to give you something harder to figure out cause you’re so good as this, making you blush from the praise. You curiously hear a rustle as he steps closer and then he guides your small hands to something very long and thick. You experimentally rub your hands along it, hearing Max hiss. A banana? You say dumbly after a few beats, Cucumber?

Wrong, Max says, sounding a bit breathless. Why don’t you taste it, hmm? You diligently lick the tip of it with your delicate tongue, not recognising the heady, salty taste, and begin licking more and more as you become determined to figure it out. You don’t know how many minutes have passed but you aren’t any closer to guessing it, instead saying It tastes really good, Maxie, what is it? You hear him swear, grip tightening in your hair, and then he orders you to open your mouth wide to get a proper taste, his normally deep voice even huskier than normal. You feel him trace your plush lips with his thumb, making you feel that dirty tingly feeling in between your legs again, before the mysterious warm and thick length is shoved down your throat, making you gag uncontrollably. You whine, trying to pull back and breathe, but Max’s strong hand doesn’t let up as he roughly shoves it in and out of your tight mouth.

Tears drip down your cheeks at the intensity and you’re drooling messily, but Max doesn’t seem to care one bit and you might’ve imagined it but you thought you hear the click of multiple photos being taken. Guessed what it is yet, schat? Max asks mockingly, and you whine, shaking your head. Too bad, maybe this will help you figure it out. He pushes the whole length past your lips as you feel something thick and creamy flood your mouth, giving you no option but to swallow it, licking your lips to try figure out the taste. Afterwards, Max had gently taken the blindfold off, revealing his flushed face, and wipes your tears away sweetly. Sorry I didn’t get the last answer, you say guiltily, upset that you had no clue. It’s alright, doll, Max reassured, I’m sure you’ll get it next time, yeah?

Another thing that you needed to improve was your endurance and stamina. F2 races were a lot more demanding than karting, Max pointed out, noticing how tired you would be after a race. He increased the frequency of your runs and workouts, always helping you stretch before and letting his dark gaze hungrily linger on your pliant body underneath him. You’d wear the cutest little yoga shorts and sports bras, leaving your sensitive chocolate-toned skin on display for him, and it was almost too easy to accidentally slide in between your legs or brush the swell of your breasts as he stretched you out, bending your legs right back up over your head and leaving you breathless. But it wasn’t enough for Max as you consistently scored on the podium now but never P1. So he proposed the ultimate endurance training, that all the F1 drivers did regularly - fucking.

Fu-you mean, making love?! You’d shrieked hysterically, whipping your head up as he brought it up casually when you two were watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch. He’d smirked, Sure darling, making love.

You’d looked nervous, like a deer in headlights, telling him you weren’t sure, you felt uncomfortable doing that for the first time…but Max’s stormy expression left no room for discussion. Everyone on the grid does it, all the time. Even your older brother, he said condescendingly. It’s a pretty good stress relief. Trust me, your driving will become so much faster.

You innocently eat up Max’s blatant lies, hesitantly asking if you should get a boyfriend then, that cute engineer from the Redbull garage had asked you out after all- No! Max says heatedly, glaring furiously at the thought of some other man laying their hands on what belonged to him. You look at him, confused how he expects you to- I mean, no, it’s fine schat, it’s part of your training after all, so I’ll take care of you, okay?

You flushed prettily, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together at the thought of Max taking your virginity, as your romantic feelings had only grown the more time you spent with him. And soon enough, later that night, Max had climbed into your bed again to find you shyly waiting for him, dressed in that silky nightie he liked. Pulling it up over your hips, he moved your lace panties to the side and made you blush as he hungrily eyed your dripping innocence, just like he’d done many times while you’d been peacefully sleeping, unaware of the twisted desires your mentor had for you. He’d then stretched you out on his thick fingers, then replaced them with his even thicker cock - no condom, of course - sickly enjoying the tears streaming down your face as you sweetly moaned from pain and pleasure. Within minutes he was claiming you as his, sending you spiralling into orgasm after orgasm, screaming his name as you fell apart from overstimulation.

Max smirked at your small frame that was now passed out below him - you’d need a lot more training if this is all you could handle, he thought darkly as he gripped your petite waist, easily continuing to move you up and down his fat cock like a ragdoll. You moan blissfully in your sleep as he stretched out your virgin cunny. Maybe multiple times a day, Max decided, cause you just felt too damn good. In his bed next time, on the kitchen counter, in your driver’s room before the race and then maybe again after- and at least once in a hotel room where he neighboured Lewis. He could just imagine your wide eyes, teary from panic as you struggled to keep your moans quiet, begging him Maxie please, please not so rough as his thrusts repeatedly banged the headboard against the wall, making it clear to his rival just what kind of filthy things Max Verstappen was doing to his precious little sister.

The dirty, possessive thought makes him cum with a guttural moan, pumping you full of his generous load as he buries his flushed face in between your pretty tits to lick and bite at them. But what Max most looked forward to was the look on Lewis’ face when you would eventually show up to the paddock one day, F2 trophy in hand and a glittering rock on your ring finger to match, beaming in anticipation of replacing the Hamilton surname with Verstappen.

And no, Max would not be inviting him to the wedding.

—————————————————————————

A/N: ok anyways. This is a ridiculous amount of smut for me to have churned out in less than a day I need to touch some grass 🙏 as always lmk what you think and send in some more requests!

[beautifulplaceofyouth]

SPECIAL SERVICE

Synopsis : A surprise visit from your childhood best friend is always a nice surprise but when the usual hair routine turns to spicy confession, all the bets are off. Pairing : Yandere! Obsessed!Caleb x Reader (both red flags) Genre : Childhood friends to lovers!au Word count : 13k (Oneshot) Warnings : 18+ Fluff which turns into a smut, Caleb is Yandere and literally obsessed with you and you both have secret feelings for each other, the love confession is a little angsty and full of jealously, Caleb longs for you so much that it's hard to resist you, you fear of losing him the second time makes you admit your true feelings, reader a little crybaby at first, inexperienced reader!first time, pet names (pipsqueak a few times, princess, baby, good girl), praise kink, french kissing, Caleb uses gravity evol for an apple, female!receiving, male!receiving, big size cock, raw unprotected penetration(reader on the pill), creampie, sweet aftercare in the shower and just both of them being red flags. a/n : So...I've been obsessed with love and deepspace game lately and especially with Caleb. Sorry not sorry, I don't regret writing this.

The insistent rapping at my bathroom door nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. I’m pretty sure I levitated a good inch off the shower floor, clutching my soapy chest like I was auditioning for a dramatic opera.

I wrestled the tap to submission, silencing the watery cascade that threatened to drown out any potential sounds from the other side. My heart hammered against my ribs, performing a frantic drum solo. Was it a burglar? Xavier? Or worse...A wanderer?

I shook off the last thought immediately because then my hunter watch would have alerted me of any energy fluctuations.

Then, a voice, blessedly familiar, cut through the humid air, punctuated by another, slightly less aggressive, knock.

“Pipsqueak?”

A sigh, the kind that deflates a hot air balloon, escaped my lips. It was just Caleb. Only Caleb. As if "only Caleb" wasn't a phrase loaded with enough emotional baggage to sink the Titanic.

My childhood best friend, my confidante, my ride or die companion… and, of course, the unsuspecting subject of my deeply buried, highly inconvenient, and perpetually unrequited crush.

He, bless his oblivious heart, had no clue about the butterflies that staged a chaotic flash mob in my stomach every time he was near.

Lately, he’d become a major distraction. Calculus? Forget it. Literary analysis? Nope. All brainpower was currently dedicated to decoding Caleb’s every move, searching for hidden meanings where there were probably none.

“Caleb! Don’t scare me like that!” I yelled, trying to inject a healthy dose of irritation into my tone. “I’m showering!”

Even through the thick wooden door, I could hear the low rumble of his chuckle. It was a sound that usually sent a pleasant shiver down my spine, but right now, it was just adding to the general chaos in my nervous system.

“Sorry. Just wanted to know if you’re alive. I arrived like five minutes ago and no one answered the door.”

“You didn’t announce your arrival, so I didn’t know you were coming. It’s not my fault you had to wait,” I grumbled, knowing full well that I was being completely unreasonable. I probably should have left a note warning people I may be taking a shower.

And since I gave him my spare key, it wasn’t surprising to let him visit me unexpectedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Finish your shower and then come out. I’ll cook something in the meantime,” he said, and before I could shout my specific culinary desires (specifically, anything involving copious amounts of chocolate), his footsteps faded away in the direction of my kitchen. Dammit.

He always managed to preempt my sugary cravings.

Once I was fully de-grimed, a miniature steam engine puffing away, I vigorously toweled myself dry, wrapped myself in my comfiest, oversized loungewear (strategically chosen for maximum cuddle-ability), and ran a comb through my sopping hair.

No time for a hairdryer. I had a much better, and infinitely more attractive, alternative in mind.

Caleb.

He always dried my hair. It was a weird tradition we’d started years ago, involving gentle towel-drying, a scalp massage that bordered on the divine, and a level of comfortable intimacy that simultaneously filled me with bliss and existential dread.

And since he was here, in my apartment, radiating pure "boyfriend" vibes, I was going to exploit the situation to its fullest potential.

With a towel turban perched precariously on my head, I ventured into the kitchen, which now smelled like a symphony of deliciousness – herbs, spices, and something vaguely reminiscent of culinary magic.

A tall figure, all broad shoulders in a casual outfit of dark jeans, white T-shirt with some dark abstract art on it and a dark jacket on top, he was focused concentration, standing at the counter, expertly wielding a knife as he diced vegetables with the precision of a brain surgeon.

Hearing my hesitant footsteps, his head lifted, and that intense, almost intimidating, gaze softened the moment he saw me.

“Look at you. All cute and soft. Couldn’t you dry your hair before coming to see me? I know you missed me, but you’ll catch a cold that way,” he scolded gently, his lips twitching with amusement.

He always called me "cute and soft." Like I was some sort of fluffy bunny or a particularly appealing marshmallow.

I pouted, because pouting was apparently my default mode when dealing with Caleb, and padded closer to him. Once I was right behind him, practically glued to his back, I leaned over his shoulder, inhaling his woodsy scent, and peered at the cutting board. “What are you making for me?”

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through me. He tossed the knife aside and pointed to the cutting board, revealing a colorful medley of carrots, celery, and some apple slices already neatly cut into bite-sized pieces. He then grabbed a towel, meticulously dried his hands, and turned around. Before I could even think about taking a step back, he closed the distance between us, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me close.

My heart decided to take up competitive speed racing. It was currently vying for first place in the “world’s fastest palpitations” category.

He hugged me tightly to his chest, burying his nose in my shoulder, almost like he was desperately trying to inhale my scent. It was a gesture that was simultaneously comforting and utterly, earth-shatteringly, devastatingly romantic.

“Caleb, what are you…” I started to ask, my voice a breathless whisper.

“I missed you. I haven’t seen you in a whole month! Let me have this,” he breathed, his words sending a wave of heat through me.

My heart gave up on the racing and decided to launch itself straight out of my chest. Slowly, tentatively, I hugged him back, my hands creeping up around his neck, my fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair.

“You’re being silly. It’s not like I’m gone. You have your duties in Skyhaven as a colonel, so don’t blame me if you have no time for me,” I pouted again, because apparently, I was now a professional pouter.

His hold on me tightened, and he let out a deep sigh that tickled my ear. “I always have time for you, but wanderers up there are causing more trouble, killing innocent people. I had to deal with them before I come visit you. So… did you miss me too?”

There was a soft hesitation in his last words; a vulnerability that made my heart clench painfully.

“Of course, I did.” The words were out before I could even think about editing them for maximum subtlety.

“You finally said it. Don’t regret it now.” There was a playful warning in his tone.

I smiled. Never.

Once we were separated, he looked at my hair with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Do you need me to do your hair, like always?”

I sheepishly smiled, feeling my cheeks flush with warmth. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending delightful shivers down my spine. “You really like to use me like a hairdresser,” he teased, grabbing my wrist and gently tugging me along.

He led me out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

After I sat on the couch, he patiently went to the bathroom to retrieve the hairdryer and then came back into the living room, wielding it like a weapon of mass seduction.

Sitting down beside me, he patted the spot between his outstretched legs, motioning towards the floor and looked up at me expectantly.

I raised an eyebrow. “There?”

“It’ll be easier that way. So don’t stall; sit,” he ordered, his voice laced with that authoritative "Colonel" tone that always made me weak in the knees. It was also the voice that could launch a thousand ships, or at the very least, convince me to perch uncomfortably on the floor.

Well, fine. If I had to sit between Caleb's legs, so be it. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

Grumbling, I grabbed a throw pillow for cushioning, plopping down with as much grace as a disgruntled cat. His thighs immediately radiated warmth against my sides as he leaned forward. Apparently, it was hair-drying time, and my wet locks were the enemy. He relieved me of the towel with startling efficiency.

“You’re ordering me around like I’m a fleet officer under your command,” I complained.

Honestly, the nerve of the man!

A sharp tug on my hair, delivered with playful force, snapped my head back. Upside down, I met his gaze, those mesmerizing turquoise eyes swirling with shades of purple. It was a look I couldn't quite decipher – a mix of amusement, exasperation, and something…else.

He leaned down, our breaths mingling like mischievous conspirators. “If you were a fleet officer,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “You couldn’t be this close to me.” A pause, and then, “I never offer to dry anyone’s hair like this, so give me some credit, won’t you?”

My breath hitched. I tried to formulate a witty retort, but my brain seemed to have taken a vacation. All coherent thought vanished when his hand slid down my throat, tilting my chin upward, his fingers gently grabbing my jaw.

“Did I make myself clear? You’re the only one who has this privilege,” he stated, his gaze intense.

My eyes fluttered closed as his free hand tangled in my hair, his fingertips making soothing circles on my scalp.

"Not fair," I whispered, leaning back until my head rested against his chest. The solid thump of his heartbeat was surprisingly comforting.

He kissed the crown of my head. "Nothing is fair when it comes to you," he murmured.

And just like that, the moment was over. He pulled away and, as if nothing had happened, began to comb my hair. The hot air from the dryer blasted strands in every direction, a chaotic ballet of frizz. I must have drifted off for a moment, because the next thing I knew, something was gently tapping my head.

I realized, with a jolt, that my cheek was resting against his thigh. Oh, the indignity!

“Did you fall asleep, princess?” His voice was soft, quiet, but laced with warmth and amusement. “I need to comb your hair, but I can’t do that if you use my leg as a pillow.”

He gently stroked my hair, and I resisted the urge to purr. Sleeping on Caleb's leg was infinitely better than being awake without Caleb's leg to sleep on.

“But it feels so nice,” I protested, my voice muffled against his jeans. My argument was compelling, I thought.

“I’m sure it does, but we’ll never get this done if you don’t lift your head,” he chuckled. It was a low, rumbling sound that vibrated right through me.

With a monumental effort, fueled by sheer stubbornness, I managed to lift my head. Only to have it drop back against his chest a microsecond later.

His fingers brushed my cheek. His voice, close to my face, was a delicious torture. “I’m happy to be your pillow, but you’ll fall asleep again soon. I’ll have to stop this five-star service then,” he warned.

My eyes snapped open. The thought of losing this…this experience was unbearable.

“No, please! Five more minutes, and then you’re free,” I pleaded, flashing him my most convincing puppy-dog eyes.

He shut his eyes and groaned. It was a sound of beautiful, glorious defeat. “You’re so lucky that I love you,” he admitted, his voice laced with exasperation and, dare I say, something more?

Before I could even process his words, he resumed combing my hair, adding in a scalp massage for good measure. The feeling was so gloriously, exquisitely good that a soft moan escaped my lips. I hadn't meant to make noise, but I was relaxed and it left my mouth before I could stop it.

Caleb stopped. I heard him exhale sharply, as if he were in pain, but he kept going anyway, his fingers working magic.

“What will your future boyfriend say if you keep asking me to do these things for you, huh? I’m sure he won’t be happy how much you love this,” he joked, but there was a definite edge to his voice. Interesting. Time for a little playful prodding, just to see how he’d react.

“That’s easy. You’ll be my boyfriend then,” I said casually, trying to sound completely nonchalant. Inside, however, my stomach was doing acrobatic flips of anxiety and, perhaps, a touch of hopeful anticipation.

His fingers stilled in my hair. His breath hitched for a fraction of a second, but he quickly composed himself. With his fingers, he tipped my head back to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t play games with me, princess. I take those jokes very seriously,” he warned. And then he did something I definitely wasn’t expecting, something that sent a jolt of electricity through my entire system.

He grazed his thumb across my lips, tracing their shape with excruciatingly slow precision. “If you start…” His voice was a husky whisper. “I’ll only bite back.”

My lips parted, and my tongue, traitorously, darted out to lick his thumb. I breathed heavily with each brush, each look, each gesture.

His eyes glinted, a dark fire igniting within them as he refocused on me. “You’re giving me strange ideas tonight, and I’m afraid you’ll regret it later.”

I shook my head. He was the one giving me strange ideas tonight, sending signals that were far from subtle. I’d never really thought he’d be like this, so forward, but somehow his gaze felt…familiar. He’d been looking at me with such intensity ever since he came back from the dead.

He’d been presumed dead, killed in explosion and then months later he was back. Like a stranger, he was different but still Caleb.

Those buried feelings had resurfaced from the moment we reunited, and I realized I could read him easier now. He wanted something more, and I could finally see it, openly, brazenly.

“What about you? Will you regret it?” I challenged, throwing down the gauntlet.

It was like flipping a switch.

One moment I was kneeling on the floor, the next I was sprawled on the couch, pinned beneath him. His face was feral, his eyes burning with an intensity that both thrilled and frightened me.

“What are you doing, pipsqueak? Are you trying to see me snap?” he growled, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion.

I shuddered, a delicious shiver that ran all the way to my toes. “No. Just wanted to tell you the truth. I have no need for a boyfriend if I already have one,” I flashed a teasing smile. “You basically treat me like a princess all the time. We just didn’t put a label on it.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze searching mine. Then, he laughed.

An ominous feeling washed over me as those gorgeous lips curled into a dangerous smirk.

“A boyfriend, you say?” He laughed again as his eyes wandered down my body, igniting a wildfire within me. “Then, I guess, I have the privilege to do this, right?”

I frowned, suddenly uneasy. “What do you–”

My gasp cut off my words as he lifted my oversized nightshirt, his hot fingers skimming across my stomach, dangerously inching closer to my bare breast.

It was a strategic maneuver, designed to deprive me of oxygen and coherent thought. It was working. My brain was currently operating on a combination of adrenaline, panic, and a deep, undeniable longing that I was trying very hard to ignore.

"Caleb," I breathed, my voice barely audible. "What are you doing?"

His eyes met mine, and the intensity was back, stronger than ever. "Claiming what's mine, pipsqueak. And maybe proving a point or two along the way."

Before I could formulate a response, before I could decide whether I wanted to run screaming for the hills or surrender to the inevitable, he lowered his head, his lips brushing against my ear. "Consider this your official boyfriend initiation."

His other fist tightened around a lock of my hair, pulling gently as he inhaled deeply, like preparing for a battle. Then, Caleb claimed my mouth.

My blood pressure seemed to stall, alongside my breathing, as his lips met mine. All thought dissolved like smoke, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of his mouth parting mine, his tongue exploring with a hesitant boldness. The kiss was a chaotic blend of pain, longing, jealousy, and raw, barely-contained rage. It felt like he’d been hoarding these desires for me for a lifetime.

I was utterly immobilized, pinned beneath him, my wrists trapped above my head. All I could do was receive the onslaught of him. His taste, like crisp, slightly tart apples, flooded my senses, leaving me dizzy.

I'd always fantasized about this, but never truly believed it could happen. We were practically family, raised under the same roof. If Granny knew, rest her soul, she'd be utterly scandalized. Even I couldn't quite grasp the reality of this moment.

"Fuck," he breathed, finally breaking the kiss, dragging his mouth away after a long, heated moment.

He stared down at me, his eyes almost crazed with a possessiveness I’d desperately tried to ignore for months, but it was undeniably there. It was as if he'd been waiting his entire life for this. To be honest, I was feeling the same.

His hand moved to the curve of my jaw, his thumb tracing the outline of my swollen, red-kissed lips. "Do you regret it now?" His voice was gruff, almost rough.

I pulled a shaky breath and shook my head. "No."

He locked his gaze on mine, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my skin prickle. The longer he watched me, the faster I flushed, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable under his scrutinizing attention.

When the silence stretched, an unfamiliar anger flared within me. I strained against his hold, trying to push him away. "What are you doing?" I struggled to regain control, using anger as a shield against the raw vulnerability I felt. Was he playing some kind of game? Was this a test?

He tilted his head, unfazed by my resistance, still firmly pinning me down. A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "What am I doing? I'm trying to read you."

"What do you mean?"

He leaned down, his fingers tightening on my jaw, his breath hot against my lips. "Are you not resisting because you want me, or because you have no choice but to obey since I forced myself on you?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused and hurt. "You're not making sense. Why would I just obey you? Do you think I'm that easy to control?" I hissed, leaning forward, his lips ghosting against mine.

I felt him grin, his hold on my jaw tightening just slightly. "So…are you saying you like me?"

I swallowed, the question suddenly thick in the air. "And what if I do?"

His eyes darkened, his breath quickening. "Since when?"

I averted my eyes, a wave of shame washing over me. But he wouldn't allow me to retreat, tapping my cheek with his thumb, growling softly. "Eyes only on me."

I met his gaze, the honesty of the moment demanding it. "Well…always," I admitted, the word hanging in the air between us.

He clenched his jaw, mulling over my confession, his gaze drifting somewhere above my head as he struggled to compose himself. His breathing deepened, steadying. When he regained control, he locked his gaze on mine once more.

"Always? Even when you received love letters from other guys? When you pretended you wanted to go on dates with them too?" He spat, the words laced with jealousy and anger, but I didn't flinch.

"What about you? You've always been the popular one. What about all those gifts and love letters you always piled up in your room? There was plenty of proof that you had your share of secret admirers," I countered, my own anger rising to meet his.

His jaw ticked. "Yes, but it doesn't mean I dated any of them. I accepted those gifts because they were snacks, and you love snacks. That's why I didn't reject them. I gave them to you. And those love letters? I didn't even read them. I always threw them away, but the mail was always overflowing. Maybe I missed some," he reminded me. "And I promised you that I wouldn't get a girlfriend as long as I had you by my side. I didn't lie to you."

“I never seriously considered the other boys too, never wanted to go on dates with them, Caleb. I just…needed you to see me as a woman. Not just a kid who needs protection all the time,” I confessed.

My heart had always belonged to Caleb, and since he never revealed or even hinted at his feelings, I'd resorted to trying to make him jealous.

Caleb simply stared at me, then let out a short, disbelieving chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand. "You succeeded then. I wanted to kill every single person who even looked at you that way."

"Caleb…"

"No, let me finish," he interrupted.

He shifted, his weight still pinning me, but his grip loosening slightly. "I was a coward, I admit it. Afraid of ruining what we had, afraid of rejection. Years we wasted, playing stupid games, both of us too stubborn to admit the truth." He looked down at me, his expression softening. "So, pipsqueak, let's get this straight. You're mine. Always have been, always will be. And I'm yours, whether you like it or not."

He paused, searching my eyes. "But... I shouldn't have forced that kiss on you. I let my jealousy and frustration get the better of me. I wanted you so badly that it clouded my judgment. I'm sorry." His apology was gruff, but sincere.

I swallowed, the fight draining out of me.

"It...it's okay," I managed, even though a part of me still felt a little shaken. "But no more forcing. And no more games."

He nodded, a flicker of a smile reaching his eyes. "Agreed. No more games." He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. "So, where do we go from here?"

I took a shaky breath, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Caleb, the boy I'd secretly loved forever, my closest friend, actually felt the same way. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

"I...I don't know," I admitted. "We've been living in the same house as practically family for years. This is going to be complicated."

"Complicated is an understatement," he chuckled softly. "But worth it, right?" He lifted his head, looking at me expectantly.

I met his gaze, and this time, the intensity didn't feel threatening. It felt...right. "Worth it," I confirmed, a small smile spreading across my own lips.

"Good." He moved, finally releasing my wrists and shifting his weight off me. He didn't stand, though, remaining close, kneeling beside me.

He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear,” So, official boyfriend initiation round two?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. "This time, with consent?"

I laughed softly, the tension finally easing. "Maybe. But you're going to have to work for it."

He grinned, a genuine, mischievous smile that made my heart skip a beat. "Oh, I intend to." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above mine. "Consider this my official courting process, pipsqueak."

His kiss was a brand, searing into my soul, and this time, I met it head-on. The raw power emanating from him, coupled with the intoxicating scent that clung to his skin, spun me into a dizzying vortex of pure, unadulterated lust. His right arm, a relentless band of steel beneath a deceptive layer of flesh, snaked its way up my body, a possessive claim against my skin. The fabric of my shirt became an unbearable barrier, a tormenting tease in the face of such primal need. And then, he was there, his quest fulfilled. His hand, long and slender, yet possessing an undeniable strength, cupped my bare breast. His fingers kneaded, squeezed with a confident possessiveness that stole my breath, my gasp swallowed by his hungry mouth.

He broke away, and the sight that greeted me was like staring into the heart of a storm. His eyes, pools of liquid darkness, almost swallowed the amethyst depths within. A flush crawled across his cheekbones, a testament to the fire raging within him, mirroring the inferno consuming me. I struggled to draw a breath, my lungs starved for air, yet desperate to be filled with him.

His gaze raked over me, possessive and intense. He seemed drunk on the sight of me, pliant, willing, utterly and completely beneath his control. The yearning that burned in those dark eyes sent my heart into a frenzied rhythm, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated against my skin. He leaned closer, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path from my jawline to my temple, each touch a spark igniting a thousand desires. He inhaled deeply, stealing my scent as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Are you mine?”

I could only nod, words failing me, lost in the overwhelming tide of sensation. His touch on my waist, beneath the hem of my shirt, sent shivers dancing across my skin. The cool, smooth surface of his mechanical arm, perfectly disguised as flesh, was a stark contrast to the heat he ignited within me.

“Say the words, princess,” he pleaded, his voice thick with a desperate longing that resonated deep within my soul. He buried his face in my hair, his breath warm against my ear, inhaling my scent as if trying to imprint me onto his very being.

“I’m yours, Caleb,” I whispered, the words a fragile offering, yet charged with a truth that grew stronger with each passing moment. Being with him had etched those words into my core.

He exhaled sharply, a sound that spoke of relief, of triumph, of a desperate need fulfilled. “God. She’s mine,” he breathed, the words a possessive mantra that sent a painful tug through my heart. It was as if he needed to hear it aloud, to confirm the reality of the moment, to assure himself that I, completely and irrevocably, belonged to him, and that this wasn't a figment of his desire.

His left arm, the one of flesh and blood, reached for me, his touch tentative at first, then growing bolder, more demanding. His fingers traced the delicate curve of my jaw, the sensitive skin of my neck, each caress a deliberate exploration, a slow, tantalizing torture.

I shivered, a delicious tremor that betrayed the depth of my longing. He knew me so well, knew exactly where to touch, how to tease, how to unravel me with a single glance. He held the keys to my desires, and he wielded them with a masterful precision.

The living room, usually a sanctuary of soft colors and comforting textures, was transformed into a battleground of desires, a space charged with unspoken longing. The air crackled with an energy that threatened to consume us both.

I arched against him, my fingers digging into his back, my nails tracing patterns on his clothed spine. I craved the feel of his skin against mine, the raw intensity of his touch, the unyielding heat of his body pressed against mine.

I wanted him, needed him, craved the feeling of his weight, the sensation of being crushed beneath his power, consumed by his presence. I wanted to lose myself in him, to surrender completely to the burning hunger that gnawed at my insides.

He obliged, pressing me deeper into the cushions, his body a hard, unyielding force against my softer curves. I gasped, the air catching in my throat as he shifted, settling his weight more fully against me.

“Do you want me, baby?” He rasped, his voice rough with barely contained desire. His fingers tightened on my hips, a possessive squeeze that sent a jolt of electricity through my veins.

“Yes,” I didn’t hesitate, the word torn from my lips, an honest declaration of the yearning consuming me.

“I’m glad you came back to me. Whether by accident or fate, you’re still here with me,” he murmured, his voice laced with a vulnerability that pierced my heart. He closed his eyes, his forehead pressed against mine, savoring our close proximity.

The words hit me deep, a wave of emotion washing over me. His longing was so raw, so palpable, that tears welled in my eyes. It felt like a wound, a deep, unhealed ache in his heart, and in that moment, I felt it too.

His love was a suffocating blanket, a weight I wasn't sure I could bear. Looking into his eyes, now filled with concern, the reflection of my own tears mirrored back at me, the truth of his feelings slammed into me with the force of a physical blow.

"Why… why are you crying?" he asked, his voice laced with a tenderness that only amplified the ache in my chest.

I couldn't articulate the whirlwind of emotions tearing me apart. The grief of a potential future stolen, the realization of a love I had been blind to, the sheer, overwhelming relief of him being here, alive, in my arms. All I could do was cling to him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, the sobs wracking my body. The thought of a world without him, a world where I never knew the depth of his feelings, was unbearable.

His arms tightened around me, a comforting, possessive hold. His hand found its way to my hair, stroking it in a soothing rhythm as we lay entwined on the couch.

"Princess…" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, almost a question. He seemed to be searching for the right words, lost in the labyrinth of his own feelings.

"I love you. I love you so much," I choked out, the words tumbling from my lips like a desperate plea. His breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that spoke volumes. I felt the tremor that ran through his body, a tangible manifestation of the shock and disbelief that gripped him. He burrowed his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply, as if trying to absorb my very essence.

"My love…" he breathed, the words barely audible, a whispered prayer.

I could feel the frantic beat of his heart against my own, a frantic drumbeat mirroring the turmoil within him. The words he had longed to hear, the affirmation he had dared not dream of, were finally spoken, hanging in the air between us like a fragile, precious thing. He must be feeling like he was in a dream he desperately didn’t want to wake up from.

She's finally with me. She loves me. She's mine.

The words echoed in his mind, a mantra of disbelief and desperate hope. Was this real? Or was it a cruel jest of fate, a fleeting illusion destined to shatter and leave him with nothing but the bitter taste of what could have been?

His mouth crashed against mine, a kiss born not of tenderness or affection, but of raw, unadulterated need. A searing, desperate kiss that stole my breath and left me reeling. It was a kiss that demanded, that consumed, that threatened to obliterate everything in its path. There was no gentleness, no pretense of courtly love. Only a primal hunger, a desperate yearning for connection that had been denied for far too long.

All the pain, the doubts, the anxieties, were momentarily eclipsed by this overwhelming need. This desperate longing for something real, something tangible, something to hold onto in the face of the darkness that had threatened to consume us.

Clothes became an unbearable constraint, a barrier to the intimacy we both craved. They were discarded with a frantic urgency, a desperate shedding of inhibitions and restraints. Buttons popped, zippers screeched, fabric tore, each sound a testament to the escalating frenzy that gripped us. The cool air kissed my skin, heightening my awareness, making every nerve ending sing with anticipation, anticipation for what was about to come.

The warmth of his skin against mine was intoxicating. His body, lean and muscular, was a masterpiece of raw power and sculpted grace. I traced a path from his face, down the strong column of his throat, across his defined collarbone, and over the hard planes of his chest. His abs were a testament to his discipline, a source of envy for men and a source of swooning pleasure for women.

His broad shoulders stretched like mountains, blocking my view of everything but him. He was my world, my focus, my everything in that moment. The only other thing that caught my eye was the silver chain I had gifted him, still around his neck, the dog tags rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing, a constant reminder of the man beneath the warrior.

I didn’t dare to look lower. Not yet. But I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. The anticipation was a delicious torment, a burning ache that demanded to be quenched.

Caleb's eyes burned into mine, a dark, hungry gaze that promised both ecstasy and oblivion. There was a possessiveness in his eyes, a fierce protectiveness that sent shivers down my spine.

"God," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "You're so fucking stunning. More so than I imagined while feeling the guilt over the years, thinking of you that way." He swallowed hard, his fingers brushing against my nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I swallowed my moan of pleasure and he continues, "I thought… I would die never knowing this feeling."

I leaned in, kissing his lips softly, letting my breath mingle with his. "Yet, I'm here. In front of you. With you as you touch me like you want me to," I whispered against his mouth. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into my skin in a possessive claim.

He wanted to possess you, body and soul, to claim you as his own, to erase any trace of the world beyond your shared desire. He wanted to mark you, brand you, make you his in a way that transcended the physical. He wanted to lose himself in you, to forget the pain, the heartache, the years of longing. He only wanted to be in this moment, with you, forever. The darkness can engulf you both later.

“You’re my princess, aren’t you?”

“Yours,” I breathed, the single word a confession, a surrender. It was the truth, stark and undeniable. Every cell in my body vibrated with the knowledge that I belonged to him, Caleb. Completely and irrevocably. And in that moment, shrouded in shadows and consumed by a desire that felt both dangerous and divine, I didn't want to be anything else. The idea of belonging to someone had always seemed like a prison, a cage built of expectations and limitations. But with Caleb, it was different. It was a liberation, a feeling of being truly seen, truly known, and accepted – even celebrated – for the darkness that resided within me.

His teasing grin returned, that familiar curve of his lips that always sent a swarm of butterflies erupting in my stomach. It was a smile that held a universe of promises, of shared secrets and unspoken desires.

"You're awfully sweet right now. Be careful," he warned, his voice laced with amusement, a hint of something possessive lurking beneath the surface.

I flushed crimson, unable to meet his intense gaze. I knew he was teasing me, but the effect was undeniable. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm echoing the anticipation that pulsed through my veins.

His eyes, dark and fathomless, raked over my body, lingering on every curve and hollow. It was a slow, deliberate appraisal that made my skin prickle with awareness. He knelt back on his haunches, muscles flexing beneath the dark fabric of his briefs. That's when I noticed it – the hard ridge straining against his underwear, a blatant display of his desire. His cock.

It was huge. Unapologetically, undeniably huge. The outline was unmistakable, a testament to the raw power he possessed, a power he wielded with such effortless control. My gaze snagged on it, drawn by an invisible force.

As if sensing where my attention lay, my lips parted, breath catching in my throat as Caleb tugged his briefs down, freeing his shaft from its confinement. It sprang forth, a dark, throbbing entity slapping against his abdomen, a pearl of pre-cum already glistening at the head, a tantalizing invitation.

The curve of the tip was perfect, sculpted like some forbidden fruit, promising a pleasure that transcended the ordinary. I imagined the feel of it, the weight of it, the way it would fill me, stretch me, consume me. I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away, mesmerized by its potent allure.

"Like what you see?" he smirked, his voice a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through me. I flushed again, a wave of heat washing over me. I was caught, my desire laid bare for him to see, and I didn't know what to say. The deep chuckle that rumbled in his chest was my only response, a sound that sent shivers down my spine.

He wrapped his long fingers around his cock, giving it slow, deliberate strokes as I watched, completely enthralled. But then, his eyes shifted, a new glint in their depths, and his hand moved away from his cock.

Without waiting for an answer, his gaze drifted to the fruit bowl on the nearby coffee table. It was a still life of vibrant colors and enticing scents – oranges, bananas, a cluster of grapes. But my eyes were drawn to the apple, a single, perfect specimen, red like a ruby, nestled amongst the other fruits. It seemed to pulse with a life of its own, drawing me in with its irresistible allure.

Then, as if by magic, it happened. The apple lifted from the bowl, floating effortlessly through the air, guided by an unseen force. My breath caught in my throat, a gasp of disbelief escaping my lips. It was Caleb's power, the gravity evolution he controlled with such ease. Usually, it was a source of deadly fascination and awe, a display of his immense strength. But now, in this moment, it felt different. It felt like a tool of unbridled obsession, a way for him to exert his control over me in the most intimate and tantalizing way.

He manipulated the apple's trajectory with a subtle flick of his wrist, drawing it closer, closer, until it hovered just above my mouth. He met my gaze, his eyes now burning with an intensity that threatened to consume me.

"Open," he commanded, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers dancing across my skin.

I obeyed, my lips parting slightly, anticipation building within me like a fire. The apple descended, the smooth skin brushing against my lips, the sweet scent filling my nostrils. It was a heady mix of innocence and temptation, a perfect representation of the man who controlled it. He guided it into my mouth, the cool, crisp flesh a stark contrast to the burning heat that coursed through my veins.

I bit down, the juice exploding on my tongue, the sweetness a momentary distraction from the inferno that raged within. The taste was almost cloying, but I couldn't pull away, couldn't break the connection he had forged between us.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise hitting me like a jolt of electricity. My core tightened, a wave of heat flooding my loins. The simple words, spoken in that low, possessive tone, were enough to shatter the last vestiges of my control.

He watched me, his eyes filled with a predatory gleam, a hunger that mirrored my own. His hand, warm and calloused, slid between my legs, fingers finding the wet heat that awaited him. I gasped at his first touch, the pleasure intense, almost unbearable. He started stroking me, teasing me, bringing me to the edge of madness with his relentless touch. The apple remained in my mouth, a tantalizing object of both pleasure and control, a constant reminder of his power over me.

His eyes flickered downward, watching as his fingers parted my folds like the petals of a flower. I was slick, so incredibly slick, my body betraying me with its desperate need. I started gushing around his fingers, a clear testament to the pleasure he was inflicting.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. He looked back at me, seeing my pleasure-filled face, wanting to capture every expression, every flicker of emotion that crossed my features. The shyness that usually clung to me was gone, banished by the intensity of the moment. I was raw, exposed, completely vulnerable to his gaze. "So responsive. Who would have thought?" He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light.

The words were playful, a teasing caress, but beneath the surface, I sensed a possessiveness that made my breath catch in my throat. This wasn't the Caleb I thought I knew, the charming, considerate man who had always spoiled me or taken care of me. This was something darker, something untamed, and a part of me, the part that craved the forbidden, was desperately curious.

"Last chance. Tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Tell me you don't want this."

The words hung in the air, a challenge, a dare. But I couldn't. I was paralyzed, caught between fear and a desire so potent it threatened to consume me. I wanted to say no, to regain control, but the word died in my throat. His touch was doing things to my body which never happened to me before.

He seemed to take my silence as consent. While his warm fingers stroked my folds, his other hand moved lower, tracing the line of my ribs, the curve of my hips, igniting a firestorm in their wake. I gasped, arching into his touch, my body betraying my wavering resolve. He chuckled, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine.

"That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, allowing him to dictate the pace.

"Open your eyes, pipsqueak," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I want to see you when I touch you."

The command sent a shiver racing down my spine, a delicious blend of fear and excitement. He wanted to witness my surrender, to see the effect he had on me, to claim me utterly and completely with his gaze. And I, a willing captive, obeyed. My eyelids fluttered open, my gaze locking with his intense amethyst eyes, pools of simmering passion that threatened to drown me in their depths.

He was a study in contrasts, a beautiful paradox. His features were sharp and angular, hinting at a dangerous edge, yet softened by the curve of his lips and the intensity of his gaze. His skin, tanned and taut, stretched over muscles honed to perfection.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. The apple which was in my mouth, fell out and it rolled down to the floor with a thud. The sudden climax hit me like a tidal wave, a surge of pure, unadulterated pleasure that ripped through my body, leaving me gasping and breathless. He had sunk two fingers inside me, stroking me deep and good, pushing me over the edge with his relentless expertise.

My body wasn’t in control anymore. It was fully his to manipulate, to worship, to break if he so desired. And in that moment, I knew I would let him. I would surrender everything, every last shred of resistance, to the man who held my heart captive in his dark and beautiful hands. I was his princess, his to command, his to possess, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The aftermath left me weak and trembling, my body humming with residual energy. I laid there, spent, and Caleb leaned over me, his lips meeting mine in a soft, tender kiss that belied the intensity of what we had just shared.

"You look beautiful when you come," he murmured against my lips, his voice thick with emotion.

I could only blush and bite my lip as he watched, the heat rising in my cheeks. It was mortifying, to be so exposed, so vulnerable, yet at the same time, there was a thrilling liberation in casting off my inhibitions for him. He watched as my teeth sank into my plush bottom lip, the small act of self-inflicted pain arousing something primal within me.

His nostrils flared, and he knelt back, settling into a kneeling position between my legs, his briefs still pulled down, leaving only his magnificent erection exposed. The sight of him, so raw and uninhibited, sent another shiver of desire through me.

He was impatient, though. Not wanting distractions, my gasp is loud when he takes the fabric and tears it in two with his bare hands, his underwear now destroyed. The sound ripped through the air, a primal declaration of his need, and it echoed within me, setting my nerves on fire. I hadn't expected this level of intensity, this blatant disregard for anything but the moment.

"Caleb, what-" I started, my voice a breathless whisper but me cut me off.

"I need you," he rasped, the words rough and guttural, like a caged beast desperate for release but I don't let him touch me again.

I push against his bare chest, looking up at him as his eyes furrow. Confusion, and what might be hurt, flickered across his features, but I steeled myself, pushing past the guilt that threatened to overwhelm me. This was my moment, my chance to reciprocate, to explore the depths of our desire on my own terms.

"It's my time to touch you," I said, the words trembling slightly in the air.

His lips parted, his surprise for a second almost making me giggle. It was a small victory, a brief glimpse of the power I held over him. But I swallowed my nerves down when I watched him gulp, his fisted hands at his sides clenching.

He was so powerful, so in control, yet in this moment, I held the reins. The realization sent a thrill through me, a sense of empowerment I had never experienced before.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," I replied, my voice firm, resolute.

His amethyst eyes darkened then, blazing with an intensity that both thrilled and intimidated me. His legs spread wider in that same kneeling position on his heels, making him even more fiercer, more imposing. 

"Then look," he commanded, his voice a low rumble.

I looked down, my gaze drawn to the magnificent display of his masculinity.

"See what you do to me?" He whispered, noticing my eyes wandering over every inch of his exposed skin. He reached down, gently guiding my attention towards his obvious arousal. "Only you can make me this hard." His voice was rough with desire. "You want to touch it?"

He knew the answer before I even spoke. He knew the hunger that gnawed within me, the desperate yearning to explore the contours of his body, to taste the forbidden fruit of his desire. But still, he asked, giving me the choice, acknowledging my agency.

“You should know that I have never…” I trailed off, my voice laced with uncertainty.

"I know," he said softly, gently brushing my hair away from my face. "You're innocent... and that makes me want you even more." His hand guided mine to gently touch him. "Just... explore, if you want. No pressure." His breath caught slightly at my tentative touch, a visible reaction to my hesitant caress.

The weight and heat of him in my hand was startling, unfamiliar, but undeniably intoxicating. I felt a surge of power, knowing that I, with a simple touch, could elicit such a strong reaction from this powerful, dominant man.

I sit up, emboldened by his invitation, and wrap my hand around him.

His head tilted back slightly as my hand made contact. A hesitant touch, almost shy, as my fingers curled around his length. He was thick, unbelievably so, dwarfing my small hand. My fingers barely managed to encircle him once. His violet eyes, usually alight with playful mischief, were now dark pools, fixed on my face. He watched every flicker of emotion, every subtle change in my expression, noting the widening of my eyes, the slight parting of my lips. He saw my surprise, my innocent curiosity, and something else… a budding desire mirrored his own.

He was a creature of raw power, a wild animal barely leashed. The purple of his eyes was clouded with a potent desire that both thrilled and intimidated me. His jaw was clenched tight, the muscles working with a barely suppressed intensity. His abs, usually hidden beneath tailored shirts or his uniform, rippled with each heavy breath he drew, a testament to his barely contained energy. He looked as though he wanted to devour me, to pull me onto his lap in a possessive claim, wrapping his large arms around me, never letting go. A low, guttural sound rumbled from his chest.

"More," he commanded, the single word laced with a desperate need that sent shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with an electricity that crackled between us.

My hand moved, exploring the length of him with newfound confidence, my fingers tracing the rigid contours. His hips twitched forward instinctively, a silent plea for deeper contact. A slick pre-come, pearly and thick, leaked out, coating my hand in a warm, viscous film. He was already so close to the edge, the precipice of his control, my innocent touches pushing him closer to the brink. He reached down, his large hand engulfing mine, his fingers strong and sure as he guided me in slow, deliberate strokes.

"Just like that..." he breathed, the words a ragged sigh against the heavy air.

"Like that?" I echoed, my voice barely a whisper, laced with uncertainty and a growing fascination.

His abs clenched and unclenched rhythmically as I followed his lead, stroking him slowly, deliberately, feeling the heat and the tension that vibrated beneath my touch. His face was a mask of exquisite torment, contorted with a pleasure that seemed almost painful. His purple eyes rolled back slightly, revealing the whites, as though he were lost in a world of pure sensation.

He spread his legs wider, granting me better access, offering himself to my touch with a primal abandon. "Yes... just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with barely suppressed passion.

Somehow, I had never imagined this. Never envisioned him like this, so raw, so vulnerable, yet so overwhelmingly powerful. The sight of him, teetering on the edge of control, ignited a fire within me, a desire to push him further, to watch him surrender completely to the pleasure I was now wielding. The longer I stared at him in this moment, the more I wanted him to lose control. To shatter the carefully constructed facade of composure and reveal the wild, untamed beast that lurked beneath.

Caleb’s breathing grew heavier, ragged gasps that filled the suddenly silent room. With each stroke of my hand, his control seemed to slip further, his body arching in response to the escalating pleasure. He was utterly lost in the sensation, his eyes glazed over, his jaw tight, the only evidence of the iron will he usually possessed. Then, with a low, guttural growl that resonated deep within my soul, he suddenly seized my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, halting my movements.

"Enough..." he rasped, his voice strained, his eyes burning into mine. "Enough, or I'm going to cum right here."

"Sorry…" The word tumbled out, a reflexive apology born of inexperience and a fear of overstepping.

"Baby, don't apologize," he chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble in his chest.

He released my wrist, his touch lingering for a moment before he let go completely. I hesitated for only a moment before resuming my ministrations, slowly pumping my hand over his engorged length. He watched my face with an intensity that made my heart pound, studying my innocent features, the slight parting of my lips, the small hand wrapped around his impressive length. His hips moved slightly forward, meeting my touch with a subtle urgency. He was teetering on the edge again, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"It's so big…" The words escaped my lips before I could stop them, a simple, honest observation that seemed to electrify the air between us.

His eyes darkened at my words, the violet transforming into a deep, almost black, purple. A slow smile spread across his face, revealing a flash of white teeth. He loved how innocent and sweet I was, even when I was touching him like this, when I held his power in my hand.

He reached down, his large hand enveloping mine once more, his fingers interlacing with mine, trapping my hand against his throbbing flesh. He began to move my hand faster, his hips thrusting up to meet my touch with a desperate need. "And it's all yours," he murmured, the words a husky promise whispered against my ear.

"Mine?" The question was barely audible, a breathless gasp of surprise and burgeoning desire.

I licked my lips, suddenly parched, the taste of him lingering on my tongue. Before he could anticipate my intentions, before he could stop me, I sat up, knelt on all fours, and leaned down, my breath warm and moist against his skin. With a slow, deliberate movement, I traced the head of his erection with the tip of my tongue.

Caleb let out a loud a surprised groan, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, as my tongue made contact. He buried his hands in my hair, his fingers threading through the strands, holding me gently but firmly against him as I repeated the action, my innocent exploration sending shockwaves of pleasure through his entire body. "Fuck, baby..." he groaned, the words torn from his throat.

He moved then, his hips jerking forward, forcing his length deeper into my mouth as I licked and teased him with my tongue. He was so close to the edge, his control shattering with each passing second.

The innocent depravity of my touch, the sight of my small mouth wrapped around his engorged flesh, pushed him closer and closer to the precipice. He started to thrust gently, his hands tangled in my hair, guiding me, controlling the pace and depth of my ministrations. "Suck me, baby…" he commanded, the words a desperate plea and an undeniable command.

Caleb looked down at me, his amethyst eyes dark and intense, devouring me with his gaze as he watched me struggle to accommodate his size. The sight of my eyes watering, my body trembling, the slight gagging sound as I took him deeper, only fueled his desire, pushing him closer to the edge of oblivion. He wiped away the tears that streamed down my face with his thumbs, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the raw intensity of his movements.

"You're doing so well, princess…" he murmured, his voice a husky encouragement.

He groaned loudly, a sound that bordered on pain, as I tightened my lips around him, my tears spilling down my cheeks, a testament to my effort and his overwhelming size. He was so close, my mouth and the sight of my tears pushing him over the edge. With a final, guttural cry, he thrust forward, his body arching, and he came, his hot seed erupting in shuddering waves, spilling into my mouth.

"Swallow it," he commanded, his voice raw and desperate.

Without hesitation, I obeyed, my throat working as I swallowed every drop, accepting his essence, taking him fully into myself. He watched, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath, his body trembling in the aftermath of the intense release. He wiped away the remaining tears from my face, his touch gentle, almost reverent, his mind reeling from the experience. He lifted me up into his lap, cradling me against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around me as though he never wanted to let me go.

"My sweet baby, you took it all…" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"W…was it good?" I whispered, my voice shaky, my body trembling in the aftermath of the intense encounter, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for his response.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through my body. "Good? Princess, it was beyond good. It was…perfect." He tightened his grip on me, burying his face in my hair. "You're an amazing little thing, do you know that?"

His words were like a drug, soothing the raw edges of my fear, fueling the part of me that craved his attention. I wanted to believe him, to bask in the warmth of his praise, but a nagging doubt lingered in the back of my mind. Was it genuine, or was it just another manipulation, another way to keep me under his control?

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark pools, unreadable and intense. "I can't wait to have you, princess," he said, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you wrapped around me, every inch of you."

A thrill of anticipation shot through me, mingled with a healthy dose of apprehension.

It mingled, however, with a healthy dose of apprehension, a stark reminder of the power he held over me, the potential for both exquisite pleasure and devastating pain. The reality of his size, his sheer physicality, crashed back into my consciousness.

"Can we even fit?" The question blurted out before I could censor it, a nervous, almost comical query that shattered the carefully constructed tension. "You're...big." The word hung in the air, a testament to the undeniable scale of him, a daunting prospect that simultaneously terrified and intrigued me.

A slow, predatory smile stretched across his face, a silent promise of the pleasure – and the challenge – that awaited. "Oh, baby," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement and a hint of something more primal. "We'll fit. I promise you, we'll make it fit." He shifted his weight, subtly pressing against me, a deliberate provocation that sent a renewed wave of heat surging through my veins.

He reached down, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of my hip, sending shivers dancing across my skin. "Don't underestimate my… ingenuity," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "I know how to make things… accommodate." The double entendre was unmistakable, a blatant and deliciously wicked tease that left me breathless.

He continued his tantalizing exploration, his fingers moving lower, tracing the line of my thigh with agonizing slowness. "We might have to get creative," he murmured, his voice a husky rasp. "A little bending, a little guiding… perhaps even a little persuasion." Each word was a deliberate stroke, painting a vivid picture in my mind, arousing a potent mixture of fear and undeniable excitement.

"And don't think for a moment that I haven't thought about every single angle, every possible position," he continued, his voice a hypnotic drawl. "I've imagined you beneath me, above me, beside me… twisted in ways you never thought possible." The images he conjured were both shocking and undeniably alluring, pushing the boundaries of my inhibitions, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume me whole.

He pulled back slightly, his lilac eyes burning into mine. "Trust me, princess," he said, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "We'll find a way. We'll make it work. And it will be… unforgettable." He lowered his head, his lips hovering just above mine, a silent invitation to surrender to the intoxicating darkness he offered.

My breath hitched in my throat, my body trembling with anticipation. The fear was still there, a nagging undercurrent, but it was being drowned out by the overwhelming tide of desire. I knew, deep down, that giving in to him, allowing him to take control, was a dangerous game. But the allure was too strong, the temptation too irresistible. I wanted to experience the full extent of his power, to explore the depths of my own desires, to lose myself in the intoxicating darkness that he embodied.

With a shaky exhale, I closed the distance between us, my lips meeting his in a hesitant, tentative kiss. It was a silent agreement, a surrender to the inevitable.

He lowered me slowly back onto the plush velvet of the couch, his movements deliberate, each one a promise and a threat. He positioned himself over me, a dark silhouette against the dim light filtering through the curtains. His lips, usually so quick to form a smirk or a biting remark, were dry, almost cracked, and he worried them with his teeth as he watched me, his gaze intense and possessive. It was a gaze that stripped me bare, not just physically, but emotionally, leaving me vulnerable and exposed.

Lifting my right leg, he draped it over his broad shoulder, the angle both compromising and exhilarating. The stretch was uncomfortable, a sharp reminder of the boundary I was crossing, but the anticipation, the undeniable pull towards him, overshadowed the pain. He pushed himself closer, the heat radiating from his body branding me, and my eyes were drawn, almost against my will, to the undeniable evidence of his arousal. His cock, already rock-hard from the first time, pulsed with a life of its own, a stark contrast to the controlled, almost detached demeanor he usually presented.

Sweat beaded on his biceps, glistening in the subdued light. Rivulets traced paths down his sculpted abs. The silver chain he always wore, a constant reminder of my love for him, swayed slightly with each movement, catching the light like a fleeting spark of rebellion.

"Caleb, are you sure…" The question escaped my lips, a whisper of doubt despite the fire that raged within me. The sheer size of his cock, the undeniable reality of what was about to happen, sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine. But he only chuckled, a low, dark sound that resonated deep within my chest, sending a tremor of both fear and excitement through me. It was a crazed sound, a sound that hinted at the darkness that lurked beneath his carefully constructed facade.

He gripped his length, his hand a possessive caress that made me gasp. Positioning the tip against my entrance, he leaned over me, his weight pressing me into the cushions. My leg strained against the unnatural angle, the muscles screaming in protest, but the pain was a distant hum compared to the roaring in my ears. He breathed against my lips, his breath hot and ragged, laced with a hint of desperation. "You will take it like a good girl, without objections, hm?"

His words were a command, a challenge, and a promise all rolled into one. They ignited a fire deep within me, a primal response that silenced my doubts and amplified my desire. I was already wet, slick and ready, his slicked, swollen head brushing against my folds like a sinful kiss.

"What about protection?" I managed to whisper, the question a last-ditch attempt to cling to some semblance of control.

He didn't hesitate, his answer immediate and unapologetic. "I don't have any with me. I didn't envision us being naked tonight," he mocked, his voice a dark, teasing whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "So our first time will be raw. So I can feel your virgin walls tighten around me." He punctuated his words with a kiss, a searing brand that sealed my fate. "It's too late to back out, you know?"

A whimper escaped my lips, a sound that betrayed the conflict raging within me. Fear warred with anticipation, doubt battled against desire. But deep down, I knew he was right. It was too late. I couldn't wait any longer to feel him inside me, to be filled with him, to experience the raw, unbridled connection that had been building between us for so long. I desperately needed him.

"Then what are you waiting for?" The words were a surrender, an invitation, a plea.

Without warning, he pushed the tip inside me, and I gasped, the unexpectedness of the sensation stealing my breath. He chuckled, a sound laced with triumph and a hint of something darker, something that made my heart pound in my chest.

"That's for being sassy, you little ungrateful brat. Will you be good for me?"

I nodded, my movements small and submissive. Our saliva dripped between our parted lips as he stroked his tongue between my words, tasting my surrender.

"Good girl," His praise was a weapon, a tool he wielded with precision, knowing exactly how to elicit the response he desired. The words made me whimper again, a sound that quickly morphed into a choked moan as he sank another inch, the painful stretch almost blinding me. It was a pain unlike any I had ever experienced, a tearing, burning sensation that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Shit," he cursed, the word a harsh rasp against the sudden silence.

He could feel you, tight and resistant, and his cock pulsed with the overwhelming urge to release, to find release in the sweet confines of your virginity. But that would be a waste, a cruel denial of the pleasure he craved, the pleasure he wanted you both to experience.

"It…it…hurts," I moaned, my nails digging into his shoulders, drawing blood without him even noticing.

He was consumed, lost in the moment, oblivious to everything but the feel of you, the taste of you, the overwhelming sensation of being connected to you in this primal, forbidden way. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of sensation, forcing himself to slow down, to savor the agony and the ecstasy.

The sweat between us was hot, a slick film that bound us together.

His right hand, the one that had been caressing my jaw, now tightened around my throat, the metal of his fingers cool against my skin. The pressure was subtle, a gentle reminder of his power, his control.

"You're doing so good, baby. Just a little more," Caleb grunted, pushing himself even deeper, lost in the intoxicating haze of the moment.

He was too far gone to stop now, consumed by the realization that his darkest fantasy was unfolding before him. You were beneath him, naked and vulnerable, raw and breathtakingly beautiful. He wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto it forever, to never let you go.

Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of pain and pleasure, of fear and exhilaration. It wasn't just the physical discomfort that brought them forth, but the overwhelming emotion of the moment, the profound connection that was forming between us. It was a joy to finally feel this, to feel full, to feel complete in a way I never had before.

Caleb moaned again, the sound guttural and raw, sending shivers down my spine. He removed his hand from my throat, bracing his forearm beside my head on the armrest of the couch. His fingers were clenched into a fist, a testament to the self-control he was exerting. With his other hand, he guided his cock deeper, inch by excruciating inch.

"Caleb, oh-" I couldn't stop myself from moaning his name, the sound a desperate plea that spurred him on even more. He suddenly rammed himself fully inside, all seven and a half inches of him breaching my virgin walls.

The pain was shocking, a blinding wave that washed over me, stealing my breath and leaving me momentarily paralyzed. My lips parted in a silent whimper, my body arching against his.

Caleb froze, completely still, like a statue of steel against my trembling flesh.

"I'm sorry, baby. You just feel so good," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of remorse and desire. He wiped the tears from my face, his touch gentle and surprisingly tender. "Just a moment, and the pain will fade away, all right?" He kissed my temple, a soft, lingering gesture that offered solace and reassurance. I shifted uncomfortably beneath him, and the pain began to subside, slowly transforming into something else, something almost…pleasurable.

"You can move…I think…" My voice was hoarse, my throat dry.

Caleb clenched his jaw, staring down at me with an intensity that made my heart pound. He pulled back slightly, his cock dragging against my sensitive flesh, teasing me, torturing me. He retreated until only the tip remained inside, hovering just at the edge of my entrance. The sensation was exquisite, agonizing, unbearable. The feeling of being almost empty sparked a desperate need within me, a primal urge to be filled again, to be consumed by him. I clenched around his head, my muscles contracting in a silent plea, begging him to sink back inside. I dug my nails into his skin, desperate for purchase, desperate for release.

He watched my expression, his eyes dark and knowing. And then, without warning, he thrust forward, burying himself deep within me.

My clit met his pelvic bone, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through my body. We both moaned, the sound a primal symphony of pain and ecstasy. Each thrust was more intense than the last, each drag against my sensitive flesh driving me closer to the edge. He seemed drunk on my pussy, lost in the intoxicating sensation of being inside me. The look in his eyes was feral, untamed, as he fucked me with a desperate hunger, as if he had been starving for this moment for his entire life.

My whimpers and moans grew louder, the sounds punctuated by gasps of breath. Words became gibberish, meaningless sounds that escaped my lips as I surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. His chain swayed between us, a distracting glint of silver against the darkening landscape of our passion. He caught it between his teeth, the metal cold against his lips, and grabbed my leg, lifting my hip to ram even deeper, his balls slapping against my ass with each thrust.

"Your pussy's so...fucking...good," he grunted, his words raw and unfiltered. He looked feral, his eyes glazed with desire, his face flushed with exertion.

The air crackled with a dark, erotic charge. He teased, tormented, pushing me to the edge, then pulling me back, denying me the release I craved. He demanded my surrender, not just of my body, but of my will.

"Beg me to come, princess. Then maybe I will allow you to fly."

Too weak to resist, I obeyed.

"Please," I whimpered, the word a desperate plea torn from my throat. "Caleb, please…"

He ignored my pleas, increasing the pace, the force of his thrusts. Each stroke was a calculated torment, designed to push me closer to the precipice. The anticipation was excruciating, a delicious torture that stretched on for an eternity. I clawed at his back, my nails digging into his flesh, desperate for purchase in the storm raging within me.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Caleb relented. He unleashed the torrent, allowing me to teeter over the edge. The world exploded in a kaleidoscope of sensations, a blinding rush of pure, unadulterated pleasure. My body convulsed, my muscles tightened, and a strangled cry escaped my lips as I plummeted into the abyss.

He didn't stop there. He rode the wave with me, meeting my climax with his own. With long, powerful strokes, he pushed me further, deeper, until I thought I would shatter into a million pieces. And then, finally, he unleashed his own storm, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside me, filling me to the brim. His seed pulsed within me, a tangible symbol of our transgression, a dark promise of the bond we had forged in the crucible of lust.

My whimpers were loud now, fueled by the aftershocks of the orgasm that still coursed through my veins.

"Such a good girl." He praised me, his voice rough and low.

He savored the moment, not wanting to waste a single drop of his essence. He thrust back inside, deeper than before, his eyes locked onto the juncture of our bodies. He stared down at the place where we were joined, where my virginity had been sacrificed on the altar of his desire. My blood, a crimson stain against the cream coloured couch, seemed to give him a deep satisfaction, a confirmation that he was the first, the one who had claimed you.

Exhaustion washed over me, a heavy blanket that threatened to pull me under. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, to escape the intensity of the moment, to retreat into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

But Caleb had other ideas. He wasn't finished with me yet.

He scooped me into his arms, carrying me towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take care of you now," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. That same caring, affectionate Caleb was back, reminding me of the old days again.

He promised me of the "special hair drying care" again which he had started when he first came to my apartment tonight, a dark threat veiled in a promise of pleasure. I was too weak to resist, too lost in the aftermath of our encounter to fight him. I complied, surrendering myself to his will, accepting my fate as his captive, his possession.

Under the warm spray of the shower, he washed away the evidence of our sin, but not the memory.

Each touch, each caress, was a reminder of the power he held over me, the dark desire that bound us together.

The warm water swirled around me, a comforting embrace that did little to soothe the unease coiled tight in my stomach. Caleb’s touch was feather-light, a deliberate caress as he guided the soapy sponge down my arm. "Are you warm enough, my love?" he murmured, his voice a silken thread weaving through the steamy air. "The water's just how you like it, isn't it?"

I leaned into him, the familiar scent of his sandalwood soap filling my senses. "Perfect, Caleb. Just perfect."

His hands moved to my hair, the suds cool against my scalp as he began to massage. It was a familiar ritual, one I usually found deeply relaxing. Tonight, however, a tremor of something akin to apprehension ran through me.

"Mmm, your hair smells like honeysuckle again," he said, his voice dropping a register, becoming intimately close. "I love it when you use that shampoo. It reminds me of the times when we were young and naive. Thinking back..it was like fate."

A smile touched my lips, a fragile thing. "It does feel like fate, doesn't it?"

His fingers stilled for a moment, the gentle rhythm broken. When he spoke again, the lightness had vanished from his tone, replaced by an intensity that always left me breathless. "It is fate. You were always meant to be mine. Do you understand that, princess?"

I turned my face up to his, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually a warm purple, were now dark pools, reflecting a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. "Yes, Caleb. I do." The words were a reflex, a response I knew he needed to hear.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs tracing slow circles on my cheekbones. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, yet there was an underlying strength, a claim being staked.

"Good. Because sometimes… sometimes I worry. I see the way others look at you. They don't understand. They don't see what I see. They don't deserve to see."

A chill, unrelated to the water temperature, prickled my skin. I reached up, placing my hands over his wrists, my fingers pressing against the pulse that throbbed there. "They don't matter, Caleb. Only you matter."

A relieved sigh escaped him, a gust of air that ruffled the damp tendrils of hair framing my face. "That's right. Only me. And you… you are only mine. Every inch of you. This beautiful skin…" He dipped the sponge again, his touch lingering on my shoulder. "…these soft curves…" His fingers trailed down my back, sending shivers dancing across my spine. “…all mine."

"Yes, Caleb. All yours," I whispered, the words a surrender, a promise.

He pulled me closer, the water cascading over both of us, plastering my hair to my face. His voice was a low murmur against my ear, a secret shared in the intimacy of the moment. "No one will ever take you away from me. Do you hear me? No one. They can try, but…" He paused, the darkness that lurked beneath the surface creeping into his tone. "…they will fail."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me: fear, yes, but also a strange sense of security. There was a raw power in his words, a certainty that both terrified and thrilled me. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, clinging to him as if he were the only anchor in a turbulent sea. "I don't want anyone else, Caleb. I only want you."

He kissed my temple, his lips lingering against my skin, branding me. His embrace tightened, possessive and demanding. "And you'll always have me. I'll always be here, watching over you, protecting you. You can't run from me, even if you wanted to."

Tilting my head back, I looked up at him, forcing a soft smile onto my face. "I don't want to run. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be." It was a lie, perhaps, or at least a half-truth. There were days, nights even, when the weight of his devotion felt like a gilded cage, beautiful but confining. But the alternative, the thought of not being with him, was even more terrifying.

His grip tightened further, his knuckles white against my back, but his voice softened again, becoming almost achingly tender. "My sweet, precious… You are my everything."

The sound of the water continued, a constant, swirling symphony that filled the silence as Caleb held me close. I closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of his arms around me, the steady beat of his heart against my ear. It was a silent promise of forever, a forever that both comforted and haunted me.

I knew, deep down, that Caleb's love was a dangerous thing, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf everything in its path. But I was drawn to it, mesmerized by its intensity. He saw me, truly saw me, in a way no one else ever had. He cherished me, protected me, even if that protection came at a cost.

And perhaps, I thought, as I leaned further into his embrace, that was enough. Perhaps being his, completely and utterly, was a price I was willing to pay. The alternative, a life without his fierce devotion, was a bleak and desolate landscape I couldn't bear to imagine. So I stayed, bathed in the warmth of his possessive love, and prayed that the darkness that flickered in his eyes would never consume us both. I prayed that my love would be enough to keep him tethered to reality, to prevent his obsession from spiraling out of control.

But deep down, a chilling voice whispered that it was already too late. That I was already caught in his web, bound by threads of love and fear, and that there was no escape. And perhaps, a small, secret part of me didn't want to escape. Perhaps I was as addicted to his darkness as he was to my light.

[jethrowest]

let me see you stripped down to the bone…

- stripped by depeche mode

congratulations! you’ve been hired as homelander’s entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now let’s try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?

pairing : homelander/afab reader

word count : 5.6k

warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni

special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!

writing tag

gif credit

divider credit

Homelander is an asshole.

That doesn’t bother you much. You’ve dealt with plenty in this field, which means you’ve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.

As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where they’re needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.

Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lion’s den to figure your own shit out.

In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.

Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldn’t quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.

None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supes’ personal lives. Homelander’s track record as far as choice in partners went hadn’t been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.

You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.

Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.

The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you weren’t going to like your coworkers.

Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didn’t much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didn’t know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didn’t give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.

Why should you respect them?

Small talk wasn’t entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didn’t disappoint you. You weren’t here to make friends.

You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldn’t help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.

Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.

You weren’t completely nervous in his presence. He wasn’t any different to you than the other celebrities you’d worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But he’s the hero of this country’s story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.

His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things you’re used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.

Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.

Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, he’s not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.

You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelander’s expression revealed, uninspiring.

While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, “What are you wearing?”

You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. “The name of my clothing designer, you mean?”

He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. “No, your perfume. What are the top notes?”

You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. “Why, you want a bottle?”

“I don’t like it.” He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. “Smells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.”

Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.

“Well, what doesn’t smell like a cheap hooker to you? I’ll start wearing that instead.”

He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.

“It’s your first day.” A warning. “Are you on your best behavior, or can you do better?” He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. “You should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.” He sat back again and shrugged. “Or maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.”

At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.

You’ve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesn’t matter. You can handle it.

“You’re absolutely right,” you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. “It is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why I’m asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.”

Homelander’s mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? “Just wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, you’d know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?”

Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.

Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.

He didn’t comment on your grin. You didn’t give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.

“I can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,” you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.

You don’t know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. “Do you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?”

Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.

“I already told you what to wear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.

As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.

The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.

When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.

“Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.” He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.

From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.

Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and you’d lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashley’s threat ringing in your ears.

Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...

Oh yeah, it’s going great! They’re all super flexible. I couldn’t be happier!

At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what you’ve allowed yourself to take on.

This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.

You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didn’t.

Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder who’s making who up here. He’s changing your looks more than you are his. You’re like his human doll.

You’ve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything “freaky”!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldn’t be viewing him in any other light.

He’s the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but he’s also the one you’re around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.

Months go by. You’ve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Vought’s all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant it’s perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.

It’s embarrassing. You don’t have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.

It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really don’t want it to.

Your body doesn’t wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while you’re helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.

You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. It’s not like he doesn’t go on and on about them. About himself.

Whatever he notices, it’s not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.

Fuck, you can’t even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You can’t even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.

Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision you’ve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):

Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?

You are unacceptably late.

Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You don’t check your phone. You’re afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you don’t have the time.

Your only option for transportation is the subway, as you’re sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if you’re practically Homelander’s personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isn’t as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.

You dread what kind of explosion you’re without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. You’re going to smell like everyone on this train. He’s going to go ballistic.

The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? It’s not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.

You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. It’s simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.

Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.

It will have to do.

When you open the door to Homelander’s dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.

Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but it’s too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others don’t matter to you. They never did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know there’s no excuse-”

“You’re goddamned right, there’s no excuse! I don’t give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!”

You’re about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe you’ve thought long and hard about what’s at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought don’t tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way you’re dressed! It’s adding insult to injury!” Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things that’s been shelved in order to accommodate the person who won’t even grace you with a glance.

A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.

“Jesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?” Homelander’s booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. “I want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum t’get the fuck out. Now.”

Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. “But sir, are you-?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or doing. Clearly.”

Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesn’t give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.

You also hear it lock.

What the hell does she think is going to happen?

You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard come out of him. And you’ve heard enough.

Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. You’re silenced by it.

He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so you’re face-to-face with the choices you’ve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.

“Look at yourself! Do you even recognize who’s staring back at you?” No.

“What kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this… humiliating spectacle you’re putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like it’s goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.” He makes a noise that’s akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. “I mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.

“Spit that fucking gum out. Don’t think I can’t hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You aren’t a mama bird, are you? Y’don’t have cute little baby birds t’force-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as you’re told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.

Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.

You’re such a fool.

He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.

You’re so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God you’re so fucking warm. He’s heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.

“Get rid of those ugly clothes. I don’t care what you have to do. I can’t stand the sight or smell of them.”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.

“Fine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.”

Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what you’re wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that they’re gone.

You don’t process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You don’t care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldn’t have. They shouldn’t have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.

“You wanna know what game I’m playing?” You turn around, forcing him backward. “It’s funny, I thought you’d be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops I’ve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!” He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.

An impressively dangerous thing to have.

“What more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! You’re really going to stand here and berate me like I haven’t given you fucking everything you’ve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesn’t mean shit to you. But it does to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it won’t get lost in this bizarre mess.

“What do you want from me?”

Nothing. He can’t stop staring at you. You aren’t aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.

His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he can’t do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. It’s a pretty simple question, you think.

That’s when the glass behind you shatters.

You flinch, pause what you’re doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.

Surveying the aftermath, you’re relieved to find that you’re far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.

When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.

Homelander’s expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, you’re more inclined to believe he’s having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.

You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasn’t fully recovered from the constant devastating hit it’s taken, so you don’t want to put a name to what’s pushing you forward. You don’t stop until you’re directly in his line of vision.

Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.

Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldn’t be right where you are.

Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.

That’s how it’s been for awhile, hasn’t it?

He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.

Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.

It’s so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you aren’t accustomed to.

Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.

In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.

You’re not wearing a stitch.

A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, “You’re on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!”

Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.

What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.

This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that you’re only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.

His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.

“Go sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.” The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.

That aside, you’re playing with a lit match. You’re unsure who’s going to set who ablaze, but you’re willing to go down with this entire building to find out.

He does as he’s told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.

Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.

Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, you’re focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.

You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit that’s been put on your time.

Homelander bores holes through you. He doesn’t need lasers for that. You’re exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until it’s distinguishable by no one else but him.

You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either haven’t seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.

He’s invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you can’t neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.

Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.

How could you have ever denied yourself?

You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.

It’s your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.

After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.

You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.

“Take off your gloves.”

Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesn’t budge. You’re patient, however, so you wait like you’ve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.

At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.

Immediately, he shakes his head, “Yes,” the first time he’s spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.

Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.

The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush you’ve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.

You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t stop your movements. Doesn’t scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.

Your wants.

It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck.” The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like he’s been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.

Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like he’s studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. You’re so wet, even you’re thrown off by it.

Once he’s finished with your chest, he’s back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.

His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.

Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.

It’s still not enough.

Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. “I want… I want… I want…” he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.

You anticipate and dread and yearn for what’s been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.

You’re intuitively thankful for the chair’s sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, you’re honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.

You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. It’s so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you can’t help but divulge. You haven’t come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.

Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.

You can’t crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just can’t. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.

What you uncover is not what you were picturing. There’s a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.

Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.

Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.

He then seizes your wrists. It’s a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know you’re going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.

A visible sheen coats his lips.

“I want you to tell me I’m good. Great. The best.”

His breathing is labored. So is yours.

He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.

“I want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.”

You’re shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.

“You have to stay. Be mine and stay.”

You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. He’ll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.

You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.

Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.