#it gives me interesting mental images

[welcometogrouchland]

Batman #149 by chip zdarsky is mostly unremarkable, but I'm really fascinated by how it makes a great case for 'good' endings not saving 'bad' stories*. Because there's a lot of interesting concepts in this issue (bruce having to deal with his rapidly aging and decaying clone making him think about his own life, re-establishing a 'nest' so to speak for his family after pushing them away, etc) but bc of the OOC slog that came before it, almost every moment w/ the batfamily comes off as unearned and disingenuous imo.

Like, everything with Damian is the perfect example in this. Because in isolation it's...fine. admittedly it's a missed opportunity to not go deeper into how Damian would feel about a clone of his dad who tried to kill considering Damian's relationships with clones of himself (the heretic rejects and respawn) or with former enemies who wanted him dead but who were manipulated and/or brainwashed (like suren and maya).

Zdarsky doesn't go into any of this but you could maybe excuse it as the issue not being about Damian. However, coupled with the previous bizarre characterizations of Damian in 147 and 148, it ends up not being fine- instead it starts to feel...icky how Damian (who, despite often being drawn and written as white, will never have his connection to the non-white al ghuls forgotten and will always be effected by racism even when not portrayed as a poc) is constantly written as overly violent, uncaring and narrow minded in this run. Coupled w/ trying to recanonize the morrison origin for Damian it's like. OH this is badly written and laden with subtle bigotry, sick**

That's me going into detail on it with Damian but it's applicable to other things in this issue- the way Cass, Steph and Duke have all been ignored or turned into jobbers makes their inclusion in the 'family' here feel hollow instead of satisfying. Bruce proclaiming that Zur was still a part of him and he needs to accept responsibility for his actions (when it means taking in clone son) wrings hollow when just last issue zdarsky was bending over backwards to separate Bruce and Zur bc otherwise the Jason thing would get really awkward. Ends are achieved through means that feel hollow or strange. I'm at my destination but damn why'd the bus have to do all that???

I only really have opinions on this latest arc of zdarskys Batman bc it's the one I've read the closest (bc I'm a hater, masochist and avid follower of even the bad damian storylines) but it's not saying great things.

Bc zdarsky can do one thing good in this book, and it's write Bruce and Tim. And yet this entire story, whether of his own volition or editorial mandate, includes other characters who aren't Bruce and Tim, the fabric starts to unravel in very telling ways.

(p.s, I think pennyworth manor is an interesting idea but I feel like in execution it's just gonna be 'bruce living in a house haunted by the memory of the people he couldn't save' but with a different dead guy this time. Illusion of change and whatnot)

*whether or not the ending is good is up to you ofc, as is your opinion on the proceeding arc! I saw some ppl complain that the ending was too "WFA" for them, which I get even if I dont think it'll literally be the same premise. If anything it's probably a lead into the new tec run. Likewise many ppl who aren't in the weeds of Damian and Jason characterization liked the previous arc! But I have my opinions and rest my case before the bench

**disclaimer, I'm white and portrayals of bigotry in comics are complicated and subjective, but I am basing my point here off what other poc comic fans on socmed have been saying about 149. Also the "sick" is sarcasm incase that wasn't obvious

[sosadraws]

Your typical horse girl movie, but it's an imperial civilian and a heavily wounded SAPR (that gets confused as a MNHR for most of the story)

[disposal-blueeee]

really really small guys

edgar belongs to jhonen vasquez

scriabin belongs to @zarla-s

png ver. for some reason

andddd the sketch. for some reason too

[sysig]

Silly goofy StanNarrator (Patreon)

[erythristicbones]

giving my OCs cryptids/mythical creatures as pets was the best idea 2: electric boogaloo

[shawtuzi]

can’t stop thinking about nanami putting you in a full nelson omg :(( (not proofread btw sorry <//3)

the first time he brought it up to you you were very intrigued, until you did a quick google search and saw wrestling images??? after he helped you find the correct images your interest peaked once more—i mean how could it not???!!the mental image of his big n beefy arms manhandling you in a such a position had the cogs in your brain turning and your pussy dripping with excitement.

“cmon let’s do it now now now!” you squealed tossing your phone to the side. you jumped into nanami’s buff arms, peppering his jaw and neck in glossy kisses. kento chuckled lowly, giving your plush ass a rough squeeze. such an eager little thing you were.

“now hang on baby i think you should stretch yourself out a little bit before we get started, don’t want my sweet thing to get a cramp hm?” he pet your hair softly, looking directly into your eyes to make sure you understood him. you let out a dramatic sigh and nodded, making kento smile at your obedience.

within minutes nanami had you strip down to your panties, knees digging into the plushness of the bed while your hands laid folded in your lap. “don’t look so serious little dove, we can have a little fun while we do it,” he chuckled, running his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling the digit away when he saw you tried to suckle on it.

nanami pecked you on the lips three times before slowly pushing you back, slipping your panties off once your back was to the mattress. he took this opportunity to admire your body in its most vulnerable state. he looked at every curve, every scar, every stretch mark with so much love in his eyes it made your eyes glassy. “you’re so beautiful….most beautiful woman i ever laid eyes on. god could strike me down right now and i’d be happy with this being the last thing i see,” he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, running his surprisingly soft hands up your thick thighs.

he slowly trailed his hands to the back of your knees, pushing them up to your chest. “fuck would you look at that….already soaking for me,” kento pushed his thumb between your soaked folds, covering the digit in your essence before bringing it to his watering mouth.

“alright m’gonna push your legs back a little more okay?” he waited until you verbally answered him before pushing your knees back until they were practically touching your ears. in all honesty nanami knew this shit was light work for you and he could manhandle you into any position he wanted with ease—he just wanted an excuse to eat your pussy hehe.

nanami couched down, spreading your pussy lips with his thumbs before spitting on your swollen clit. you gasped, clenching around nothing as he spit on your pussy once more. “how you doin’ up there gorgeous?” nanami spoke softly, chuckling lowly at the way you tried bucking your pussy into his face.

“s’easy babe! i can handle it just please do somethingggg!” you whined, kicking your feet in the most precious way possible. without a word nanami wrapped his lips around your clit, humming at the sweet yet tangy taste that is you. “oh! f-fuck kento,” you mewled, bringing your hand down to mess up his perfectly styled blonde locks. nanami slapped your hand away, grunting against your pussy as a way to tell you to keep your hands to yourself.

that��s how you both stayed—nanami on his knees devouring your drooling pussy while you held your legs back with shaky hands. “d-do it side to side again…yeah like th-that! oh my—!” you were cut off by kento swiping his tongue side to side with vigor, your legs beginning to shake, signaling your nearing orgasm.

“so fuckin’ sweet,” nanami growled, gripping onto the soft flesh of your ass cheeks before maneuvering your body up and down on his tongue. for such a prim and polished man he sure was a messy fucking eater.

the slurping noises coming from below you would’ve disgusted anyone but you personally?? oh it was your favorite. the only time nanami really lost himself was when his head was between your thighs, so you made sure to cherish every sloppy lick, slurp, and glob of spit he gave to your soaked pussy.

“i-i’m cumminggg,” you threw your head back in pure bliss as your orgasm washed over you, wave after wave of cumming hitting kento’s awaiting tongue. nanami lapped at your pussy a few more times, giving your clit a cheeky little suck before letting go with a pop!

nanami cleared his throat and stood up, loosening the tie on his neck. “you ready for me?” he asked, squeezing his achingly hard dick through his slacks. if you looked close enough you could see the tiniest wet patch where his tip was.

you made quick work to sit up and undo his belt, your mouth watering at the thought of sucking him off before he ravaged you. “slow down honey s’no rush yeah?” he cooed down at you, taking your face in his hands. you nodded slowly, tossing his belt to the side and undoing the zipper. “lemme….lemme suck you off a little please? need it kento,” you pouted, nuzzling your face into his toned stomach. nanami smiled down at you and brought his hand to your face, smushing your cheeks together before giving you a very sloppy kiss.

“later darling i can’t wait to be inside you another minute,” he gave your lips another kiss, smoothening the furrow in your brows with his thumb.

a few minutes later….

“ready for me my love?” nanami grunted, slapping the tip of his cock against your pussy. your back was snugly pressed against him while his strong arms held the backs of your knees up. “y-yes kento m’ready for you,” nanami wasted no time lifting your body until his tip was poking at your entrance, hissing at just how fucking wet you were. you both moaned in unison as he slowly sunk you down on his cock.

“f-fuck sweetheart you gotta ease up. cmon ease that pretty pussy up for me,” he took advantage of your exposed neck and began to kiss and suck on the most sensitive parts making you whine. he encouragement worked like a charm and soon he was almost entirely inside you. “yeah…yeah there we go,” you squeaked when nanami slammed body down, finally filling you to the brim. fuck you felt so warm and tight around him there was no way he’d last long.

“d-don’t go slow ken, fuck me till i pass out pleaseeee i need it,” you cried, clenching around him. nanami hissed and without another word began a brutal pace, the sheer roughness taking you aback. “yessss f-fuck kenny!” you squealed, your head falling back on his shoulder. in this position the tip of his cock repeatedly hit that spongy spot inside you that had you seeing stars. your wetness already began to soak both of your guys’ thighs, a sharp slapping sound echoing throughout the room from it.

“oh i know baby i know. feels good yeah? tight little pussy is fucking soaking us, you hear that?” he breathlessly chuckled, referring to the slapping noises your thighs were making. “uh huh! uh huh! i hear it kenny,” you whimpered, trying your absolute hardest not to start drooling.

kento securely held both of your legs in one of his arms while the other gripped your chin, forcing you took look at him. you stuck out your tongue the tiniest bit making him chuckle, “gimme a kiss baby.” he sucked your tongue into his mouth making your eyes roll back. you loved when he did that. nanami’s sloppy, tongue filled kisses were your personal drug of choice. the way he made you feel every ounce of love and want in just a single kiss made your head spin and your pussy throb.

“s’good ken you’re so strong. so. fucking. stronggg.” ken thrusted up a tad rougher towards the end of your sentence, his head inflated beyond belief. your praise was making his head spin, he had to give you the most earth shattering orgasm you’ve ever had—he had to.

he adjusted your position to where both of your legs were hanging over his arms once more, both of his hands now clasped behind your head. “ready pretty baby?” he huffed out, chuckling when the only noise you let out was a loud moan.

you didn’t know it was possible to be fucked completely braindead yet here you were, eyes rolled back and not a thought in your mind as kento brutally thrusted up into you. he could only imagine how full your pussy must’ve looked, god the thought had his balls tightening.

“ken! ken! ken! kenny!” you chanted his name like a prayer, your pussy now squelching each time his fucked up into you. nanami tightened his hands around your head (not too tight though ofc) and forced your head to look down, giving you a delicious view of his soaked cock spearing into your puffy pussy. “we *hiccup* look so pretty together kenny, wish you could *hiccup* see,” you sighed dreamily, because it truly was a beautiful sight.

“don’t worry baby i will later, s-see that—fuck! see my phone? hm?” he slowed his pace, and loosened his grip on your head allowing you to look up and see that his phone was indeed propped up recording the entire thing. you smiled and bit your lip, now excited for when you both watch the video together which will probably lead to him having you like this again hehe.

“rub your clit my love, cmon make yourself cum on your husbands cock—yeahhhh that’s it honey there you fucking go,” nanami growled in pleasure as your pussy squeezed him like a vice. his dick was getting wetter either each thrust inside you until he accidentally slipped out making you whine very loudly. “i got it baby i got it,” he huffed and slammed you right back down on his cock, making your eyes cross. “yes yes y-yes fuck, so good kenny please cum in me,” you cried, digging your nails into his toned thighs.

nanami growled removing his hands from your head to spread thighs as wide as possible, one hand toying sloppily with your clit while the other found purchase on your neck. “i’m gonna cum baby—right inside this tight little pussy, and you’re gonna take all of it like my good little wife aren’t you?” his hand began to slap your clit, making a broken moan slip past your swollen lips. “yesss kenny m’gonna take it all i promise!” you cried, aching to feel the warmth of his cum inside you.

“fuck fuck fuck goddammit,” kento let out a guttural moan right in your ear, his cock throbbing as he pumped his cum into you. there was so much. so much it began to slip down his cock and onto the bed. he was about to pull out but you quickly stopped him, wanting to stay like this for just a little while longer. “can i at least turn you around so i can look at you?” he hummed , giving your shoulder a gentle kiss.

you nodded and nanami slowly pulled out making you whimper before turning your body so you were facing him. he pulled you tightly against his chest mumbling praises on top of praises in your ear while he carefully pushed himself back inside you, moaning softly.

“so how’d you like it my love,” he grinned nudging your nose with his. you lifted your head up and cradled his face in your hands, pressing your foreheads together. “that was so. fucking. good. rest up while you can because you’re gonna fuck me like that again tonight!” you giggled, purposely clenching around his now soft cock. kento hissed, squeezing his eyes shut in sensitivity.

he’s probably created an even bigger monster in you but shit he wasn’t complaining!!!

btw peaches and coconut!eren fic coming soon!! i just wanted to get this out of my drafts *kiss kiss*

[dunmeshistash]

How do you feel about Milsiril? Like what do you think of her interactions between the canaries, her goals, her intentions and morality? I keep seeing people with mixed feelings about her, some saying she's just toxic or morally grey or doing bad but with good intentions or that she's just a mentally ill and literally so much more, also with the comic about Otta calling Milsiril love for her children/Kabru as just love for a pet, I always saw people take it at face value and say yes, Milsiril did love them more as pets instead of children, did she take up raising/adopting non-elf children because she felt like none of them could ridicule her like the elves did because they didn't know what an elf was supposed to be like (and also because they were children) or did she inherently view them as less? I mean the canaries and I'm pretty sure almost all of the cast in dungeon meshi have some sort perspective on different races especially because how they were taught about them, i just think it was interesting to finally see someone interpret it as Otta just misinterpreting Milsiril, I'm just really interested in her, i think shes neat, sorry for the rant!

Ooh, well to preface this, I hadn't really realized Milsiril was such a controversial character before my last post, I kinda live under a rock. She's really not a character I had given much thought besides what I wrote there before it, but I can do my best to express what I have thought since, with sources for it. I'm not sure what order to go thru so I'll just go by manga appearances and then extras, this will probably be quite a long post

This is the first time she shows up in the manga (ch55) Kabru is wondering about what future they might have if the elves take them into custody because of the ancient magic, he thinks about Milsiril as a get out of jail card, and mentions "There's a chance they would make us become permanent resident of the elven lands." with the image of Milsiril holding him. I don't think that means she would be the one to not let them leave, since this would probably be an legal issue, and the fact Milsiril lives away from other Elves. It does set up that Milsiril is quite overprotective tho, with Kabru's reaction to her teary hug. (rest is under a cut)

The next time she shows up is in ch61 right after Kabru falls down the dungeon along with Mithrun, he faints and has this flashback

She's being her overbearing self treating Kabru's small injury as if its something you need to be in bed for, hand feeding him like he's a toddler, and when he insists he wants to learn how to fight and be strong like her, she hugs him revealing to us for the first time her arm scars, she's cleary in distress too, so you wonder "what has happened to her?"

It continues in the next pages, as she tells him to stay there, where it's safe and there's cake, and describes the bad things he might encounter. Until he tells her he will go with or without her help

Honestly this is a Kabru we don't see often, this is the version of him that is usually in thought bubbles, he's blowing out in frustation over being smothered and demanding straight up what he wants, instead of trying to manipulate Milsiril, very blunt for him. Milsiril seems to flip a switch into battle mode, when she decides to train him for real.

I really thought this was funny, the visual of these cuddly toys and this Mom that was being so soft just a second ago completely flipping into something menacing is very amusing to me. She says "I'll give you an exhaustive, thorough training in how to use a sword... until you finally decide that you're ready to give up." although it sounds cruel, it seems she really trained him as best she could to make sure he would survive the dungeon. If he couldn't take the training with her there was no way he would be able to take on the dungeon, but he could, so much so that he managed to make her let him go. I can see this being seen as her trying to prevent him from going but to me it seems more like some tough love from a traumatized war veteran in this case.

The last thoughts he has is admitting his Mom was right, "Not only were there plenty of traps, monsters, and malice... but there were times when I felt so hungry and cold that I couldn't stand it."

And he concludes with "I never once thought that I wanted to go back there. That room where I could eat all the cake that I wanted..." While I can understand the interpretation that he means he would rather go thru all this than go back, perhaps cause he hated it there, I think it's rather a statement to how committed he is to defeating the dungeon, the visuals show him in rubble vs him in a soft big bed, the rough reality he fought to be able to face and the comfyness of what his life could be. Plus is mirroring exactly what Milsiril said to him. Admitting she was right about the bad things but that he won't give up for the safe easy life he had.

After that visuals of Milsiril are used while Kabru tries to sus out Mithrun but she shows up again in Mithrun's backstory.

Here she's straight up called Gloomy, which wasn't really the version of her we saw so far, gotta remember this is also how Mithrun saw her and that she was called gloomy as a way of bullying. Kabru mostly cuts off her part in the story until the end, when she's the one to find Mithrun after he was eaten by the demon

She doesn't really care much for Mithrun as we see in some extras, and she was ready to mercy kill him, but she is also the one to spare his life. This could be seen as her thinking he can still be of use, and it's how it sounds with how Kabru tells the story, but I do think this was also a merciful act, Mithrun was in rehabilitation for 20 years after being saved, by the time he was actually useful for anything Milsiril had already left the canaries and adopted Kabru.

Now for extras... About Mithrun/The Canaries, Milsiril was cleary someone that hated the people around her. This is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

Milsiril seems to be the type that hates "popular kids" so to say, her description says she was bullied by other elves for being so introverted so I believe she holds a grudge against people like Mithrun that seem to have succeeded where she failed. But realizing he was a twisted person like her seemed to make her feel more sympathetic towards him, that's why I think she really did act with mercy when she saves Mithrun, he's now someone she sees as similar to her, she sees he also suffered like her

Her decription also mentions she left the canaries specifically because she was disgusted with how the Utaya situation was dealt with. Yet it seems like she came back to help Mithrun with his rehabilitation once she quits.

There's an interpretation to be made that she did this only to get "revenge" on the demon since she just saw the destruction of Utaya, and that she's using him. On the other hand maybe she wants to help him find a motivation to live, she's no longer a canary and she has time to actually help him now. I don't know which one is the truth but it's not obviously something self-serving if you ask me. Especially in the context that right before this scene Milsiril admits she wishes they could have talked before.

My interpretation of her relationship with the canaries and other elves is that she's someone depressed that was mistreat for her 'quirky' side, the dolls are clearly one of the ways she used to cope with anxiety/depression but it only caused her to be bullied by her own kin, she's the daughter of an important family and it's shown in other extras, including one about Mithrun, that nobles often send out the kids they don't want around to become canaries. It's an easy way to get rid of someone undesirable and I think it was the case for Milsiril. (Pattadol even assumes her parents love her less than her sisters for sending her to join the canaries).

No wonder than that now that she's finally free from the canaries she chose to seek her own happiness away from the society she felt she could never fit into, she clearly likes to take care of children too, I think it's mean to assume she only likes them because she feels superior to them when there's no indication that this is the case.

And I don't think it's a coincidence she's so overprotective of Kabru after Utaya, it's literally the tragedy that was the breaking point for her, and he's a surviving small child from that tragedy, Milsiril cares about Kabru and wanted him to have a comfortable safe life after everything he went thru...

This ended up getting way too long so I'll make second part tomorrow about the rest of the extras and Kabru, and some other things I've seen said about Milsiril, but to answer the questions...

I don't think she treats her children as pets, Otta is just salty she was called out for dating like Leo Dicaprio.

Every single dungeon meshi character can be called morally grey because they all have flaws that in our world can be considered unforgivable, but they don't live in our world. To me Milsiril is doing her best in the context she lives in.

Who even is neurotypical in dungeon meshi, Milsiril is yet another flavour of a neurodivergent traumatized character among so many.

I believe she thought of the other canaries, especially Mithrun, as the same type of people that were cruel to her, probably because some of them really were, but that she generalized it to the point she thinks of all of them as bad by default. You can only get hurt so many times before you assume everyone will hurt you.

Part 2

[dragonspleenistasty]

Ohmg so a bestie and me have been making a little sci fi setting together and I think we've made the gayest little alien buddies like real enemies to lovers thing they bond over a competition of wits and learn to respect eachother in the midst of a war between their two factions and if I could rant about this I could for hours omg

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐈𝐭 (𝟐) !

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; vil's dad thinks you're dating, and comes down to meet you

— notes; here is part 2, part 1 is here. please donate to my kofi or consider commissioning me if you like my work bc im broke and need cash. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s a bright afternoon at Night Raven College when Eric Venue arrives at Night Raven College unannounced, causing a minor frenzy among students and staff alike. They’re starstruck; after all, seeing a famous actor on campus is a rarity, and Eric is surrounded by a crowd of adoring fans as he makes his way to Pomefiore.

❋ Vil, however, is not thrilled to see him. His father’s obviously come here to snoop, and Eric’s wide grin tells Vil there’s no escaping him today.

❋ Ever the professional actor, Eric insists he’s just here for a little visit. “Can’t a father see his son and stroll around the college campus for a while?”

❋ Vil reluctantly obliges, but he’s wary. Every time they pass a group of students (many of them gawking and staring and pointing), Eric gives each and every one of them a careful once-over, as if expecting you to magically appear. Vil notices and gives his father a dirty look, but Eric just shrugs, the very picture of innocence.

❋ Despite Vil’s attempts to keep his father far far away from you, your paths do eventually cross. You run into both father and son as you’re heading down to the cafeteria for lunch, and Eric’s eyes immediately light up with recognition. He strides over before Vil can stop him, extending a hand with a charming smile. “Ah, you must be the famous Ramshackle student! I’m Eric Venue, Vil’s father. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

❋ You’ve seen exactly zero of his movies. Thanks to Ace and Deuce giving you the lowdown, all you know about this guy is that he’s some big star — Leonardo DiCaprio level, maybe? Not that anyone here would know who he is . . .

❋ Realising that Eric’s waiting for a reply, you quickly recover, shaking his hand with a slightly awkward but friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Venue.”

❋ Eric immediately wastes no time in drawing you into a conversation, asking you about your interests, your studies, and — much to Vil’s chagrin — what you think of his son. He’s so friendly and warm, it’s almost like talking to an old friend, rather than a famous celebrity.

❋ (The shy tinge to your smile, and the way your voice softens when you talk about Vil doesn’t go unnoticed by Eric, and only serves to confirm his suspicions.)  

❋ Vil is unnaturally tense through it all, a bow string about to snap. It’s almost as though he’s debating grabbing his father and making a break for it, public image be dammed. But instead, Vil settles for hovering beside you both, looking mortified and slightly flustered when his father asks you something just a little too personal.

❋ Finally, Vil manages to pull his father aside, insisting that they should let you get to lunch (Vil makes eyes at you and you take the hint, dutifully acting as though you’re absolutely starving).

❋ Eric sees right through your little act, but lets you leave with a wave and a laugh, expressing his desire to see you again. Afterwards, Eric turns to Vil with a knowing smile, quietly whispering, “I like them,” like it’s the final stamp of approval for the relationship Vil absolutely refuses to admit he’s in.

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 11 (The End)

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

I could write more, but quite frankly, I think I would kinda drag it out and the first major arc is tied up with a neat little bow! There are definitely be threads left dangling for me to pick up whenever I want to write more about Sky and Azriel, but I think around 50k is a good place to stop for now ❤️

Even the Spymaster of the Night Court paid taxes.

That was the only reason why Rhysand even found out where exactly Azriel‘s home even was.

Azriel’s home was in the outskirts of Velaris, near the mountains. A little lake cabin. Rhys hadn’t even known that Azriel owned it but apparently he did.

Rhys shouldn’t go there. He knew that.

Rhys should be giving his brother space. That was probably the least he owed him. But he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know Azriel was alright. That he was happy.

Rhys needed to apologise. He needed to make amends…

And Azriel was ignoring him. Mental shields as shored up as they ever had been, shoving back at Rhys at every opportunity…

He had never seen Azriel's mental shields like this before, and it concerned him. He knew Azriel was angry at him, had ever right to be angry,  but Rhys hadn't expected his brother to shut him out so completely.

Reports were still arriving on his desk punctually as always. But Azriel seemed utterly uninterested in actually talking to Rhys. 

It was a small comfort, knowing that Azriel was still working, but Rhysand couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt that had settled deep in his gut. He knew that he had hurt Azriel deeply, and he couldn’t blame his brother for shutting him out.

Rhys wished he could turn back time and fix things, but he had messed up terribly. He knew he had to give Azriel space, but the silence between them was deafening . It was a constant reminder of just how much damage he had caused.

As the days went on, Rhysand found himself consumed by thoughts of what he could have done…should have done… He tried reaching out to Azriel mentally, only to be rebuffed each time. 

Cassian showed up alone for debriefings and if Rhys showed up at the House of Wind for Valkyrie Training, Azriel was nowhere to be seen. 

So finally…Rhys had enough. So he showed up at that house. 

It was a nice house too, a secluded cabin at a mountain lake. Rhys knew that he wasn’t welcome, not after everything that had passed between them, but he had to see Azriel. 

Rhys raised a hand, knocking gently on the door. He could hear the faint sound of movement inside. Rhysand sighed. He should leave. He knew he should leave. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

And then suddenly, to his surprise…the door opened. 

“…C…Can I….can I h…help you?“

She was brown haired and short… with deep blue eyes and freckles smattering over her nose.

Rhysand looked at the woman in front of him, taken aback by her appearance. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't a small, curvy, freckled brunette.

"I, uh..." Rhysand stammered, his mind blanking. "I was looking for Azriel." he finally brought out. 

The small female studied him carefully, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Az…Azriel's n…not h…here," she stuttered.

Rhysand's heart sank, but he tried not to let it show. "Do you know where he is?" he asked, desperate for any information.

The female hesitated, biting her lip slightly. She seemed to be contemplating her answer, her brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, she finally looked back up at him, her expression unreadable. "He…He's...o…out f…for t…the d…day," she said finally, not giving him anymore than that.

Rhysand tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but it was difficult. He was so close to his brother, and yet so far away. "Do you know when he'll be back?" he asked sharply.

She nearly flinched away from him at that tone of voice.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but he didn't even get to that. Because some thing with wickedly sharp claws, launched itself at his head with a hissing sound.

Rhysand yelped as the mysterious creature swiped at his face, growling all the while.

"HECTOR NO!" The female shrieked.

Rhysand stumbled backwards, trying to dodge the sharp claws.

Just at that moment, he felt more than he heard his brother's arrival.

Azriel materialized between them with a loud flapping of wings, his siphons blazing. He stood protectively in front of the small female, his expression murderous.

"Hector to me," he snapped. The thing, a cat ...an incredible ugly , murderous looking cat let off Rhys with another growl and slunk back to Azriel's side, heeling like a dog. The woman quickly scooped him up in her arms.

Cassian's laughter washed over him, at that moment, as Rhys was still laying on the ground, bested by a cat .

"Taking down by a cat now, Rhysie?" Cassian asked him with a snort, offering him his hand to gain his feet.

Rhys already knew that he was never going to live this down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Azriel hissed, his voice filled with anger. His wings were spread wide, and Rhysand could see the barely contained ferocity beneath his brother's cold facade.

Rhysand winced at Azriel's harsh tone. He knew he had messed up, and he didn't blame his brother for being angry with him. "I just wanted to see you," he said, feeling small under Azriel's penetrating glare.

Azriel's expression didn't soften at his words. "You had no right," he said sharply. "You can't just show up here unannounced, Rhysand. This is my home, and you're not welcome here. You terrified Sky!"

Sky. Sky. That was the name of his brother's mate...of the pretty brunette that was standing behind him, fussing over her murderous cat.

Rhysand glanced over at Sky guiltily. "I...I'm sorry," he said to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Sky hesitated, before nodding stiffly. Her face remained guarded, her arms still wrapped protectively around the mangy cat. Rhysand couldn't help but notice how small she looked compared to Azriel's imposing form…and the absolute massive cat. 

"I am sorry," he turned to his brother, swallowing. The apology wasn't enough. he knew that. And it wasn't going to fix the fact that Azriel didn't trust him anymore or... *Az. Please.*

"How did you find this house?" Azriel demanded.

"I checked the tax reports," Rhys admitted with a grimace.

Azriel's expression darkened even further, and Rhys braced himself for a reprimand. Instead, his brother let out a harsh, bitter chuckle. "Of course you did," he said flatly. "Just can't stay out of my business, can you?"

Rhysand felt a pang in his chest at the hostility in Azriel's voice. He knew he deserved every ounce of resentment his brother felt, but it still hurt deep to hear it out loud. "I...I was worried about you," he said lamely.”I just needed to see you." he added. "To apologise."

"You don't even realise the lines you keep crossing, do you?" Cassian asked him flatly. "Ever thought about the fact that maybe you should have waited until Azriel was ready to hear you out?

Rhysand winced. Cassian's words struck a nerve, and he knew his friend was right. He had been rash and insensitive in coming here unannounced. "I...I wasn't thinking," he admitted softly.

Cassian shook his head, his expression still stern. "That's the problem, Rhys," he said bluntly. "You never seem to think��these days. It's like you're so caught up in your own head that you don't consider how your actions affect those around you."

Rhysand's gaze dropped, shame washing over him. Cassian's words pierced straight through him, and he struggled to find a response. He knew he had been making mistakes, but hearing them laid out so bluntly still stung.

"What do you want?" Azriel asked him flatly. "Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to apologise," Rhys said weakly. "I...fucked up. I know that. I want to...fix things."

Azriel's face remained impassive, his eyes hard. "You can't just fix things with an apology, Rhys," He said curtly. "You crossed more than one line, and you shattered my trust. Do you really think saying sorry is enough?"

"Az," his mate said softly, her voice quiet. "H..He's blee..bleeding all over our front lawn after my cat at..attacked him. At least let him sit down and give him a healing salve…"

Azriel turned to look at his mate, his anger softening ever so slightly at the concern in her voice. He let out a heavy sigh, before nodding stiffly. "Fine," he said gruffly. "But no more than that."

Rhysand nodded gratefully, relieved that Azriel was willing to let him in, even if only slightly. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I...I really am sorry."

Azriel didn't respond, turning away from him and herded Sky and the murder cat into the house. Rhysand watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness. It was clear that his brother's anger was far from abated, and he knew it would take a lot more than just an apology to mend their fractured relationship.

"Come on," Cassian prodded him up.

The first thing that Rhys realised about the house Azriel shared with his mate was that it was absolutely stuffed full with books. The second was, that Azriel clearly doted on the Murder Cat that got a crystal dish with tuna on it put on the floor before Azriel even went in the direction of the healing salve, which he slapped down on the table in front of Rhysand. .

"I…I am so…sorry," Sky apologised to Rhys, bright blue eyes apologetic. "H…Hector has nev…never done anything like that before, I swear."

Yeah, somehow he doubted that. But he also doubted that it was going to help his relationship with Azriel if he was going to annoy his mate about her beastly cat. The thing had a worse personality than Amren . 

"Don't worry about it," he said, with what he hoped he was a gracious smile. "I think your cat and I just got off on the wrong foot." He looked over at the cat, who was now happily devouring the tuna as if it hadn't just tried to claw his face off.

"Good Boy, Hector," Azriel said warmly.

Rhysand could just stare.

Azriel, the feared Spymaster of the Night Court, was cooing at a mangy cat like a proud parent. He never would have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Who knew the Spymaster had a soft spot for cats," Rhysand remarked with a faint smile. Azriel shot him a warning glare, but the sternness was lost at the tender way he was petting the cat. "I am really sorry," Rhys apologised again.

"You said so. Numerous times," Azriel shot back.

Rhysand sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He knew Azriel was still angry with him, but it was hard not to feel the guilt weighing down on him. "I know," he said softly. "But I want you to know that I mean it. I am sorry, Azriel. For everything."

Azriel's expression remained impassive, but Rhysand could see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. He knew his brother was struggling to forgive him, but he hoped that with time, Azriel would be able to find it in his heart to do so.

"I just want to make things right," Rhysand said earnestly. "I miss you, Az. I miss my brother."

"You'll need to decide one of those days," Azriel said sharply. "Am I your soldier or am I your brother?"

Rhysand flinched at the words, feeling the weight of the accusation hit him hard. 

He had always tried to balance his role as High Lord with his relationship with his brothers, but he knew that…that he hadn’t been fair to Azriel for a long time. "You're right," he conceded quietly. "I have been treating you like my soldier instead of my brother, and that's not fair to you."

"You have been treating him absolutely deplorably," Cassian cut him off.

Rhysand hung his head, feeling the weight of his mistakes settling heavy on his shoulders. "I know," he said quietly. "I've been so caught up in my own problems and responsibilities as High Lord that I lost sight of what really matters. And I've hurt Azriel because of it."

"And you stuck your nose in things that are none of your business," Cassian continued. "I get it that you are tired of fighting, Rhys, we all are, but you can't keep conflict out of our family by ordering Azriel to behave in the way you would like him to."

Rhysand winced, knowing Cassian was right. He had been trying to control things, to make sure everyone was safe and happy, but in the process, he had driven a wedge between himself and his brothers. "I...I know," he admitted reluctantly. "I was…I was stupid. I am tired of war. Of fighting. And I was just trying to protect him, but I went about it all wrong."

" Protect me?" Azriel asked him, his voice dripping with disdain. " Protect me from what ?"

Rhysand looked away, feeling the shame rise within him. He knew he had overstepped, and he knew that Azriel was angry with him. "The consequences that would have arisen," he said delicately. He didn't know what Azriel had told his mate...didn't know how much she knew, but she was watching him with an expression on his face, he couldn't quite place.

"Well, I am an adult, Rhysand," Azriel snapped. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself."

Rhys knew that. He knew Azriel was more than capable of taking care of himself. But he still felt the need to protect him, to shield him from harm.

"I...I know that," Rhysand said quietly. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt." He glanced over at Azriel's mate, who was still watching him warily. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being evaluated, judged for his mistakes.

Azriel let out a dry chuckle. "Well, it's a little late for that, don't you think?" he said bitterly. "You've seen to that already." Rhysand winced at the accusation, knowing that he deserved every ounce of Azriel's anger.

"I know," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I am sorry for that. I see now that it was the wrong way to go about it." He looked into his brother's dark eyes, pleading for understanding.

Azriel met his gaze, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Protecting me by making decisions for me is not protecting me, Rhysand," he said quietly. "It's...it's suffocating. It's demeaning."

Rhysand nodded, knowing that Azriel was right. He had been trying to control everything, trying to make sure that nothing went wrong, and he had lost sight of what was truly important. "I understand," he said quietly. "And I am sorry for making you feel that way. It was wrong of me."

Azriel studied him for a moment, before finally sighing. "Just...stop it," he said simply. "No more interfering in my personal life, no more giving me orders like I am one of your soldiers."

Rhysand let out a shaky breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I promise," he said earnestly. "I won't do it again, Az. I...I'll respect your boundaries, and I'll never overstep again."

Azriel snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” he said gruffly. "And if you do...if you try to control me like that again, I swear Rhysand...it won't end well."

"You'll ha…have He…Hecctor to contend with," Sky said, her voice even.

Rhysand looked over at Hector, who had finished his tuna and was now licking his chops.  Rhys swallowed. "He does seem to be a force to be reckoned with," he said carefully.

Sky gave him a small, tight-lipped smile. "You could say t…that," she said, her tone neutral. Azriel snorted a laugh, shaking his head as he watched his mate. It was the first genuinely carefree sound Rhysand had heard from his brother…in a long time.

Despite the earlier tension, Rhysand found himself smiling too. There was something about the way Azriel looked at his mate, the way he looked...happy, that made Rhysand feel like maybe everything would be alright.

Hector chose that moment to let out a loud meow, his voice sounding like a rusty hinge in the otherwise quiet room. Azriel looked down at the cat, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright, I'll get you your second helping, spoiled brat," he said, a hint of fondness in his voice.

Rhysand chuckled, feeling the tension that had been weighing him down lift just a little. Things between him and Azriel weren't repaired yet, they had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful.

“They do say the pen is mi…mightier than a sword,” Sky said suddenly. “You treat Azriel like that again and you’ll see just how mighty my pen is.”

Rhysand's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Sky's unexpected threat. It was clear that she wasn't messing around, and Rhys couldn't help but admire her boldness. He glanced over at Azriel, who was trying to suppress a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," Rhysand said, trying to hide his amusement. "Though I have to say, I can’t imagine a pen being as terrifying as Hector."

Cassian snorted. “Oh you have no idea,” he muttered

Rhysand's eyes widened in curiosity at Cassian's comment. What on earth did that mean? But before he could inquire further, Azriel's voice broke through.

"Don't worry about it," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Let's just say that you don't want to get on Sky's bad side, especially when she has her writing instruments within reach."

"Duly noted," Rhysand said, nodding seriously. He had a feeling that Azriel's mate was not someone to be trifled with, regardless of how harmless she looked, and he had no intention of finding out first-hand just how mighty her pen truly was.

Hector, having finished his second helping of tuna, let out a satisfied meow before padding over to Sky and rubbing against her leg. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, smiling as he purred contentedly.

Rhysand watched the scene. He had never seen Azriel so relaxed, so happy, and it made him realize just how badly he had missed his brother. It was a reminder that family was more important than anything, and that he needed to cherish the people he cared about.

“Seems like you aren’t Sky’s favourite,” Cassian drawled.

Azriel snorted. “Nah, I come a distant third behind Hector and the shadows.”

Rhys watched with a swallow as these shadows that he had seen torturing people came over to Sky and twined around her hands. Azriel's words were said in jest, but Rhysand could hear the fondness in his voice. It was clear that Azriel adored his mate, and that the shadows had taken a liking to her as well. Rhysand tried not to let the slight sting of jealousy show on his face.

As he watched, the shadows danced around Sky's fingers, like they were alive and had a mind of their own. Rhys had seen the shadows in action, had seen how Azriel used them to fight and spy, but he had never seen them act this way before. There was a tenderness in the way they twined around Sky that was almost...beautiful.

Rhys turned to Azriel, who was watching his mate with a soft expression on his face. "They seem to like her," he commented, keeping his voice neutral.

"That's an understatement," Azriel said drily. "They're obsessed with her. They won't leave her alone."

Rhysand could see that clearly, but what surprised him more was how comfortable Sky seemed with them. She wasn't scared or even bothered by their presence...

It did make sense he supposed. The shadows were Azriel's weapon, his most trusted companions...that they would like his mate.

Rhysand watched as Sky looked up from where the shadows were wrapping around her fingers, a faint smile on her face. She seemed completely at ease with the strange entities, as if they were just another part of Azriel that she had accepted and embraced.

And it was also a sharp reminder of how much trust Rhys had destroyed through his actions. It was very clear who Azriel preferred, who he trusted more. Who he gravitated towards. Who even his shadows doted on, these strange, creatures that Rhys was quite sure would stop at nothing to keep their master safe.

The realization stung, but Rhys knew he had no one to blame but himself. He had caused this rift between them, he had pushed Azriel away, and now he was paying the price for it. But he was determined to make it right, no matter how long it took.

As he watched Azriel gently brush away a stray strand of hair from Sky's face, Rhys made a silent vow. He would do whatever it took to repair their broken bond, to regain Azriel's trust and respect. No matter how hard it was, no matter how long it took, he would make things right.

***

"You want to talk about it?" Sky asked him quietly, after Cassian ad Rhys had gone. 

She was fine now. Content. No more pulling at the mating bond so harshly and pushing all her fear at him. It had shaved at least a century of his life, to feel that from her when Casisan and him had been sparring and he knew that she was supposed to be safe at home.

He had expected near everything…but he hadn’t expected to arrive to the view of Hector scratching Rhys’s face with all his might. 

Azriel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on him. He wasn't sure if he was ready to put his tangled emotions into words yet, but he also knew that he couldn't keep it all bottled up inside.

"Rhys gave me some orders that I didn't agree with," he said drily. "Stuck his nose in things that he had no business to interfere with. He treated me...treated me like my feelings didn't matter. That I didn't matter....It took a really bad fight on Solstice for this apology to occur," he said with a grimace.

"You don't think he means it?" Sky asked him curiously, turning to look at him.

"No, he does mean it," Azriel said with a sigh. He did believe that. “He wants to fix things. to rebuild trust...And I do want that too. Regardless of how much of an asshole he can be on occasion he is still my brother ."

Sky was quiet for a long moment, watching him intently. Azriel felt the weight of her gaze, knowing that she was analyzing the situation, trying to understand what he was feeling. Finally, she spoke.

"You're worried that he'll disappoint you again," she said softly. "That he'll make promises that he can't keep. That he'll go back on his word and hurt you worse than before."

Azriel's throat felt tight. The words hit him hard, because Sky had put a voice to his deepest fears. "Yes," he admitted. "That'sexactly what I'm afraid of. I want to believe him, I do."

But it was hard to trust Rhys right ow. Especially with Sky. Trusting Rhys with the most important, the most precious part of his life...

"I can loan you Hector whenever he pisses you off again," Sky offered him seriously, and Azriel couldn't help but laugh.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile. "I might just take you up on that." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. The scent of caramel and hazelnuts enveloped him, calming his racing thoughts and easing the tension in his shoulders.

"I love you, he whispered into her skin and she hummed. "Regardless of what happens, you  have me," Sky promised him. "I'll be behind you, every step of the way. regardless of whatever you decide."

Those words were like a balm to Azriel's soul. The fear and doubt that had been plaguing him since Rhysand's unexpected visit receded, replaced by a sense of safety and certainty. He held onto Sky tightly.

"I love you too," she murmured, the words barely audible even in the still apartment.

They stayed like that for a long moment, simply holding onto each other.

*I don't think I ever thanked you.* he told the shadows softly as he held his mate in his arms.

The shadows fluttered around him, wrapping around his arms and shoulders like a comforting embrace. They didn't say anything, but Azriel could feel their response. They had been with him through thick and thin, protecting him, guiding him, and never once asking for a word of thanks. And yet, he knew that they understood his gratitude, that they could feel it…

*Thank you for finding her.*

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[neptxn3]

Astrology Observations II

｡:ﾟ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა ﾟ:｡

Disclaimer, these are observations I have made through personal experience and thorough research, observations also vary depending on other natal placements involved

doesn’t resonate ≠ untrue 

♅ Virgos tend to represent the trad wife far more than people assume taurus does, and that’s because Virgos ability to uphold their life (at least on the outside) tend to attract men who want a wife that can keep them on track

Some Virgo women tend to also attract gay men unfortunately 😭, again I think Virgos just seem like the perfect trad Wife and it will attract closeted men like flies. This isn’t to say all your partners will be closeted but the ones who are overly aggressive on your role in the relationship might be.

♅ Gemini moon children develop QUICKLY. These are usually the kids who weird you out with their extensive knowledge and self awareness that seemingly comes out of nowhere. The mercury influence allows them to digest many topics which in turn has Gemini moon children mentally developing at a faster pace than their peers

I’ve also observed Gemini moons are those annoying kids in your class that are a lot smarter and a bit condescending to others intelligence, not because that’s just the way they are, but their mercurial moon needs constant stimulation, and with a combination of their rapid growth you’ll see them climbing academic ranks which in turn can make them dislike school if they are not progressing at a speed they like. 

♅ Scorpio moons have a tendency to see the worst in every situation/person which can be a nasty habit, but this isn’t out of judgment, rather they don’t like to give people the benefit of the doubt. They don’t like to be screwed over and their best bet is to think of the worst scenario possible. 

♅ Aquarius Venus who are flaky in relationships and constantly cheat will eventually have karma handed back to them, usually in the form of being in their mid 40’s still single.

Aquarius Venus flaky reputation does stem from the fact that it is a Saturn influenced placement, as well as being fixed. It’s not that they hate any type of restriction to their freedom but rather to what extent you restrict them to. They can and will jump quickly into relationships but if they see any glimpse of possessive or controlling attributes they will leave. Again because it’s fixed and Saturn influenced Aquarius Venus knows once it settles down that’s it, they’re not going anywhere, that’s why they’re so scattered to find the right person who fits their criteria. 

♅ Moon/Sun harshly aspecting Neptune is the embodiment of “I hate my Mom/Dad, but I love her/him too”. Neptune harshly aspecting these planets can cause a huge wall of misunderstanding between parent and child, but Neptune blurs the lines so deep that the individual sees them “through rose colored glasses” and if incapable of harboring hate. I would even say there could be nights where these people will look back and remember their past relationships (Neptune = Dreams)

♅ 10h placements can sometimes struggle maintaining relationships due to the very contradicting nature of the Midheaven and ascendant. Usually people will perceive them to be very different from who they actually are.

This is also why they struggle with their self esteem (the natural square to the ascendant). Sometimes they feel like they need to keep up an image to satisfy others and that isn’t someone who they truly are 🥲

In synastry this also points to partners trying to change who they are/make choices for them because they think it’s “for the best” or “what’s good for them”. 

♅ Every Virgo rising I’ve met always gives me a small lesson on why astrology isn’t real but follow up with a “but can you read my chart I want to see if it’s true 👀”. I truly believe it’s the 12h Leo which makes them secretly a little self centered (hence the interest for things like astrology to attempt and figure themselves out) but the mercurial ascendant will always make them skeptical 😭

♅ Saturn conjunct Jupiter natives is a dangerous fire sometimes. I’ve noticed if they haven’t learned to balance this aspect in their chart, the people around them can suffer their warm and cold attitude. It’s almost as if one second you could be hysterically laughing in class together, and the next second they immediately stop and ask you to be serious and finish your work. WHERE DID THE VIBE GOOO?? The key here is moderation in whichever sign/house this is in

♅ Whoever said Neptune in hard aspect to Venus needs to practice saying positive affirmations (especially to Venus related topics) to themselves in the mirror was SO correct. Neptune indeed does reflect lies to you and reaffirming yourself in the mirror breaks that spell. I don’t think I’ve felt so beautiful since I started doing this. 

[starsonablackboard]

managed to finish another decent ish piece so here's narinder's inutial design!! as always probably will change later

we're living by furry laws in this house so "head fur" aka hair is an option and im using it. period. another unpopular(??) choice is giving narinder a fur pattern, and don't get me wrong i love the pure black void nari, but as an artist i enjoy making up details to draw, so i indulged myself here. (but if i ever were to draw comics with him i would simplify it or just make him all-black, because repeating this every frame is a misery. fun for a one-off ref sheet tho)

not a lot of lore stuff for the guy since the idea of the au is still fresh and im figuring it all out, but there're design inspirations under the cut if you're interested!!

sooo lets go

i wanted narinder to have that dramatic sharp featured og cartoon villain look, so i took inspiration from oriental longhairs for the facial structure and from maine coons for fluffy dramatics. also i just love using maine coons as cat references. look at those things. marvellous.

from the very start (pretty much) my brain was consistently giving me images of narinder with hair, specifically dark long-ish straight-ish, so i tried to walk this mental image backwards to find the origins of it, and i think scar and ozai are my best bets. in my first sketches narinder had shoulder length hair with slight waves, but in the end i opted for long and straight. not really a reason to, just was vibing better to me

clothes are pretty standard narinder robes i think. i find it funny that fandom unanimously gave him basically a priest outfit, and i like it too, so i kept it. that red stripe gave me a little bit of a headache though, couldn't get it to look okay and not weird or tacky. i think i managed. i had to contain my urge to design him an intricate outfit with different textiles and embroidery and shit, but i try to keep it at least somewhat tied to logic and the au, and let's say that no-one was willing to do something this elaborate for narinder for quite some time

and some lore crumbs

• narinder is declawed (after his defeat that is).

see the narinder's claw relic and the whole do no evil motive. the most evil narinder directly did was the injures he inflicted on his siblings, and he did it by, quoting shamura, "such sharp claws". so yeah, that tracks. funfact i considered taking only one of his claws, from the left ring finger, because the relic is "narinder's claw" singular, but "callamar's ear" relic is also one ear and not two, so it didn't feel kike a good enough basis to take only one claw yk. so sorry big cat, all your claws are now gone

• lamb did kill narinder after defeating him. there's nothing on the pic that's tied to that fact, just thought it would be interesting to know

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Road to Fame

♛ “If God gives you something you can do, why in God's name wouldn't you do it?” ―Stephen King

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

♕ Pile One (8oP, 3oW rev., Temperance, The Hermit)

Your road to fame would be quite unorthodox and since you’re paving an original path, it would take time, patience, and dedication. This is not an overnight sensation type of thing. Think Sheraseven- the Sprinkle Sprinkle Lady ✨. She had been consistently making content (unique, neo “feminist” videos way before it picked up in media) for well over a decade. She even had a spiritual side to her, she talked about esoteric themes in pop culture and made guides on how to manifest and attract abundance. 

This is my spiritual pile, you would get famous for offering psychic insight (using clairaudience capabilities in particular) or putting your own creative spin on things using your spiritual attunement. Like Sheraseven for example, she combined her interest in esoteric practices with her love for pop culture and social commentary. 

Inherently, esoteric studies have smaller audiences so it would take significant time to build up worldwide fame (if you even want that). 

Honestly, with your skills, any fame you get is due to a higher power. You are a conduit for elevating the collective consciousness. You will be seen because your insight is meant to be heard. Society is heading towards a deep transformation and shift of power from the ultra-rich to the common man and you’re one of the ushers of this change. Your words empower people and are a primary reason for your incarnation. 

Any platform you build is going to be held to a higher standard than most in the eyes of the public and the universe. People are going to look at you for guidance and inspiration and the petty, nasty shit you see in media nowadays will not bode well if you enact it. You will be made an example of how to behave and treat others. Your bad actions will be punished more harshly than anyone else’s and your good actions will be rewarded tenfold. 

Major Jupiterian and Plutonian influence. A genius astrologer on this app tracked the most common nakshatras of K-Pop Idols, and Jupiter dominated their charts. They are held to an incredibly high standard and are trained to be model citizens. However, their fame surpasses the average celebrity and they are practically worshipped worldwide. *ahem* You.

I mean… imagine if a holier-than-thou mental health, peace, and love guru was bullying people on Twitter, nobody would listen to anything you have to say. You HAVE to pay careful attention to your media presence and image.

Howeevveerrr, your biggest personal challenge is trusting yourself and your capability. The thing with spirituality is, it lies outside of human perception, so there is no concrete evidence to prove it to others. So, you would battle with, “Am I even right? Will anyone believe me?” and it would cause a shit ton of anxiety cause you’re constantly questioning yourself. 

Be cautious not to clip your own wings. I can't stress this enough: you are meant for this! You are the real deal! If others don’t believe in you, so what? Only YOU need to believe in yourself. Offer honest help to others, and if they choose not to take your advice, that's their loss. Remember, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink—just as my grandmama would say. DO IT THE FUCK ANYWAY!

But have patience! That’s another thing, you’ll grow frustrated if your platform isn’t building as quickly as you’d like. You have to remember that the divine has a hand in this ordeal, they are going to attract the right people at the right time and it likely won’t align with your sense of urgency. Trust the process and stay committed—you’re on the right path!

P.S. Your work will be slow. Most careers require a “grind”, yours won’t. You need to prioritize introspection, drawing your attention inward and looking for answers deep within your soul. Don’t stress logic and manipulation of the algorithm, trust your inner knowing. 

(Do you have a prominent Pluto in your chart: Either in a cardinal house or conjunct a personal planet? You are a major player in the world’s rebirth.)

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Seer of the Space Between Worlds

♕ Pile Two (7oS, 9oS, Queen of Wands, The High Priestess, 5oS, 10oW, 5oW rev.)

YOU’RE SEXY AND HOES ARE MAAADDDDD.

Your road to fame is you embracing your authentic self. Something about your beauty: your looks, how you style yourself, who you’re seeing romantically, your creativity, your sensuality,

or you could lead a visually pleasing “soft girl” lifestyle. Anything that makes people look at you just swoon. 

People would be mad because they think you have it easy. You don’t really have to do much, but be beautiful because people desire you and your lifestyle. If you’re a woman, I see you leading self-confidence courses and teaching women of all ages how to raise their self-esteem by detaching from anything that drains their inner wild woman.

This reading is hyper-feminine, if you’re a man you’d get famous for your proximity to women or will have a female-dominated fanbase that sees you as their dream guy and wants to date you. 

You create a wonderfully comfy vibe; everything you do looks effortless, even if it takes a ton of hard work behind the scenes. You sell a fantasy, showcasing the polished version of a lifestyle while hiding the nitty-gritty realities. Take that Ballerina Farms lady, for example. She’s running a farm, raising 50 kids, and cooking from scratch daily, all while looking FABULOUS. I bet she goes to bed exhausted! Yet to the public, everything appears romantic and effortlessly beautiful, making it seem far easier than it actually is. Now everyone is dreaming of escaping to a self-sustaining farm and embracing that charming cottage-core lifestyle.

However, underneath all the glitz and glamour, there is something dark in your mental space. You attract a lot of envy. People desire your lifestyle to the extent that they’ll get buddy-buddy with you just to be near what you have, hoping it will rub off on them. You’ll have to learn to navigate deceitful energies and “friends” who are secretly competing with you.

People will like the idea of getting you out of your “princess” character. They want you to look like the bad guy- someone who is actually a mean bitch underneath your cool, calm, and collected persona. 

This aspect of fame, in the broader context of your life, will teach you discernment and help you trust your intuitive judgment of others. However, on this journey, you may find yourself grappling with intense paranoia and trust issues. Having been burned by people in the past, you'll become hyper-vigilant, determined to avoid the same pain again. Yet, through this struggle, you'll also discover the importance of vulnerability and the value of genuine connections, allowing you to grow stronger and more resilient in the face of adversity.

You will meet the best people in your life and your greatest adversaries at this time. 

But don’t sweat it, they hate you because they don’t have shit on you.

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

She Weaves Timeless Romanticism Into The Mundane

♕ Pile Three (Page of Pentacles, The World, 10oW, King of Pentacles, Powerful, Saturn, Gemini Medical, Seduction)

You have the power to unite the world baby. Your key to fame is sharing your perspective on life. 

You possess a deep understanding of a universal truth that many remain blind to, and it's crucial to share your ideas. If this resonates with you, you'll likely feel a weight of knowledge pressing down on you, creating a longing to communicate and connect with others. This insight isn't just a personal burden; it’s your ticket to stardom. By expressing this truth, you have the potential to inspire others, spark meaningful conversations, and elevate both yourself and those around you. 

You have the gift of the gab, can charm the birds from the trees, a mouth like a magpie, can sell ketchup to a lady in white gloves, and every other saying under the sun that says your words are seductive. 

I don’t think you realize this but you have a knack for attracting an audience. You may feel insecure and think people stare at you for no reason or listen too intently to everything you say, but it's because you radiate an aura of importance. 

Significant placements: Saturn in a cardinal house or major conjunction, Libra, Cap, Aqua, Pushya, Anuradha, and Uttara Bhadrapada.

Your mind is critical, astute, and hyper-aware; this aspect of yourself bleeds into your physical existence. Your body language communicates this fact and people pick up on it, giving the impression that you’re intelligent and have something important to say.

You know those internet personalities who, for whatever reason, people hang onto their every word? When something happens in the media, people rush to their comments and ask about their thoughts and opinions. Or, all their content is their knowledge about niche things or their viewpoint on divisive arguments in society. That’s your shit right there. 

You’re likely not too interested in mainstream media and like to consume content that expands your knowledge and mentally stimulates you. 

There is a deep sense of doubt here, you’re probably reading this and going, “But I’m not smart🫤.”

LIEESSSSS!

You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit, you’re a genius! You might be surprised at how interested people are in your thoughts if you find the courage to share them. Sure, you’ll encounter some naysayers along the way, but who cares? It’s the internet, and let’s be honest—people can be insufferable. You could say the sky is blue and there’d be some smartass like, “Well actually, with all the methane in the atmosphere the sky turns pink with a dash of purple at approximately 6:44 pm in the western hemisphere  ☝🏾🤓.”

You can’t let these losers silence you. 😭😭

Focus on those who resonate with your message and don’t let the negativity hold you back. Your voice matters, and the world needs to hear what you have to say!

Just to reiterate, it IS your ticket to getting the spotlight you deserve.

P.S. If you have Saturn dominance, especially in relation to Mercury, you likely experienced some delays and struggles in your education and learning development (SAMESIES). You might have a speech impediment or struggle to find the right words. 1) Things will get better with time and you will likely surpass everyone else in terms of communication because you will put a lot of focus into refining your speech. 2) People will find your speech endearing because it shows that you’re human, imperfect, and relatable. It makes it easier for people to connect to you and resonate with your message. 

P.S.S. For some of you, this message is tied to your academics and whatever you’re learning professionally. 

P.S.S.S It's hours later, and I'm letting my intuition shape your mood board. The imagery is… quiet yet formidable, like towering mountains or the very core of the Earth. You have an intellect that doesn’t need to scream that it’s sharp. You embody the dignified essence of Saturn, exuding a carefully crafted composure. People are drawn to unravel your layers, eager to glimpse the depth within. It may sound strange, but over time, people come to see you as profoundly wise.

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Gentle Fortitude in Peace of Mind

♕ Pile Four (Page of Swords, 2oP, 4oW, 4oS rev., 9oS rev., High Priestess)

Haha, you think you won’t find love but you’re about to receive one of the greatest love stories of a lifetime 🫵🏾!

Your road to fame is a blossoming partnership filled with love, mutual respect, and endless banter. 

It could be a familial, platonic, romantic, or a friends-to-lovers situation, doesn’t matter. Your bond with another is what will catch the media’s attention. In today’s age, this could be in the form of a podcast or live streaming where people get to observe you and your person’s natural flow of conversation.

Do you know Aaron and Jo? They’re commentators who’ve been friends since childhood, and their unique rapport is magnetizing. It’s effortless and incredibly comfortable to witness, making their interactions feel genuine and warm. They have middle-school boy humor but they’ve refined it over the years, so it appeals to all audiences and is genuinely hilarious. You and your person will have something one-of-a-kind like this. 

This is sort of separate from the reading, beyond the potential fame, this person is coming into your life (or is already in it) as a gift from the Universe. The karmic scales are balancing in your favor. You’ve spent years emotionally pouring into people with very little in return and as a form of justice, you are going to meet people who “Match your Freak”, so to speak. 

Placements: Tropical Aries, Sidereal Pisces, Uttara Bhadrapada Nakshatra. Any Cancer or 4th house placements. 

You’ll know this is coming when you’re going through a season of release. Whatever has been draining you emotionally and torturing you psychically will just… poof!

One day you’re going to, “fuck that shit, it’s not the deep- WE BALL!” your way to success 😭😭.

This is my bubbliest pile. Not that you are a bubbly person, in fact, life’s trials and tribulations took away your ability to crack a smile for a while. But this new phase you’re entering is nothing but giggles and a great fucking time. You deserve it!

This person is going to nurture you in ways that even your inner child can’t fully comprehend. The success you find online won’t even feel like the ultimate prize; it’s the deep connection you build that truly matters. This bond will uplift you and provide the support you didn’t know you needed, making the journey all the more rewarding.

P.S. You might have Libra or 7th house significance in your chart because a core aspect of your life revolves around connection and partnership—more so than most. It's time to celebrate! Toss your cap in the sky, you’ve completed a huge karmic cycle and your blessings are coming! 

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Joyous Hum of Divine Union

[bluejutdae]

“Oh, let there be hotel complaints” | Chan x you

warnings: nsfw, D/s dynamics, face and pussy slapping, overstimulation, mention of safewords, Daddy kink.

This is just Chan brain rot and my mind gently suggested me the image of first time inexperienced Dom Chan who wants to try some BDSM but he’s too scared to hurt you so he decides he’a going to try on himself all that he’s gonna do to you…

Title from Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Chan has had plenty of vanilla sex, but then you introduced him to BDSM, and especially the concepts of Doms and Subs, and something switched in him. He started reading online forums and blogs. And when the topic arose again, he clearly told you he’s interested, but he won’t do it yet. Because the thing is: despite how hard even just reading stuff about it makes him, he has no experience, and he won’t risk hurting you.

So, he does what any good Dom should do in his eyes, he tries things on himself.

One day you turn home to find his face red and a bit swollen, but when you ask about it, he just distracts you with filthy kisses. What you don’t know is that he slapped and slapped and slapped himself until he deemed he had found the right strength to use.

Another day he disappears for the whole afternoon and, when you see him in the living room, he looks flushed and a little exhausted, but giddy. Just like Changbin when he maxes out at the gym and he’s incredibly tired but proud of himself. What you don’t know is that he spent the afternoon edging himself with a vibrator on his shaft and his tip and, after hours of denying himself, he came and proceeded to overstimulate himself, because it’s only logical to pair up the two experiences, right?

What you noticed though, is that there’s a change in him. He’s more assertive with you on some days, makes sure you eat and doesn’t let you go to sleep if you haven’t removed your makeup. Pushes you to sleep more when he knows you have had a bad day at work, and every time you comply and thank him for taking care of you, he kisses a little filthier, holds you a little firmer.

It’s months later when he asks if you can try something kinkier. You’re excited and happy and you start to mentally prepare yourself to be a good teacher without forgetting this is about pleasure. But then Chan shows you exactly how deep the still water runs deep.

“You’re gonna sit there” he says and he’s so commanding yet sexy you melt instantly. “And we’re gonna have a quick talk. Nothing too extreme is going to happen today, but I need to establish some rules”. You nod in response, and he looks at you with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna use your pretty words, baby girl.” That’s it. Not a suggestion, not an option, a rule. Fuck, you knew he would be good at this.

“I understand.”

He’s quick with the rules: you must verbally answer, you’re gonna use the traffic light system for now, you must use the safe word if you need to, and the moment you think something’s wrong he’s gonna stop. You also must ask for what you want, not just take it.

Not too long later you’re on the bed, shirt previously discarded and clad only in your panties. And Chan is completely dressed, hovering over you. He’s been kissing you deeply and touching you just enough to make you want so much more. You’re embarrassingly wet and you’re sure you’ll have to throw away your panties. He’s holding your crossed arms at the wrists and, in doing so, he’s holding you down. You try to buck and raise your ass to relieve some of the dull aching you’re feeling in your core. “C’mon Channie, touch me.”

“But I am touching you…” he replies with a smirk on his lips. His free hand caresses your face, and he tests the gives of your lower lip with his thumb. When you suck on it, though, he takes it away and shakes his head. “What did I say?” You are lost, what happened? Did he say something?

“You’re just a cockhungry whore, uh? You can’t even wait for me to give you something, you’re so greedy you just want to take and take.”

Oh.

The realization in your face makes Chan smile. “There it is… tell me what you did wrong, and I might consider going easy on you.”

“I didn’t ask to suck your thumb-” he knows there’s something you want to add, he knows about your Daddy kink. And it turns him so fucking on, but he’s not gonna press about it. He considers your words and considers just letting it slide, but there’s flames licking at his insides.

“Too bad you didn’t ask, uh?”

Sudden, sharp pain irradiates on your left cheek and it’s less the pain and more the surprise that makes you gasp and, less than a second later, moan. Chan wants to apologize, years of conditioning making him feel guilty and mean and abusive, but he can’t deny what he feels.

He grabs your face, fingers splayed where he slapped mere seconds ago, wet thumb digging into the opposite cheek and kisses you messy and filthy, sucking your tongue in his mouth. Chan removes the last piece of clothing you have on and sits on his knees, with his thighs slightly spread apart. He holds your legs open with firm hands, one on your calf and the other clamped around your knee. He’s just… staring at your pussy. You try to squirm away and close your legs, but his eyes are suddenly on you. There’s a warning in his face that accompanies a displeased sound. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry” you blurt out trying to repair something before you do too much damage. You can feel wetness dripping down your folds, and Chan can too. “You’re so wet. Fuck, you love being on display for me…” He has never felt this. There’s a power rush, a shiver starting from his spine and moving towards opposite endings: towards his brain, making him lose words and making him want to act up, want to deliciously destroy you, making a mess of you and then put you back together; and on the other ending, traveling south towards his cock and balls. He’s been ready to cum the moment he sat you down and you agreed to do this.

“Love, are you just going to stare at me?” You ask when you grow too impatient to keep sitting still, a bit embarrassed too by his too focused staring. He shakes his head, and there is a quiet chuckle that can be heard in the room. His lips raise in a slow smirk, like he’s just been made aware of a secret, and you didn’t. And maybe he did.

Chan made plans for tonight. Plural. You told him you like not knowing everything in advance, so he planned different plans based on your responses to his actions. It was harder than organizing recording sessions. But since he saw your reactions earlier, he decides to stick to a precise plan. So, he acts in it.

Quickly and hard he delivers a slap on your inner thigh, the pain is a delicious sensation, hot and cold at the same time. A moment later the skin reddens to show Chan’s handprint and if possible, his cock gets ever harder. It twitches a little from where it’s hidden, head flushed and red, slowly but constantly leaking precum, forming a wet stain on his slacks .

“Fuck Chan!” You cry to his direction, eyes closed shut and brows knit in pleasure. You can feel heat where he hit you, and you want to press your fingers into it, wanting to feel the warmth and the pain and the pleasure. The moment you are ready to ask him for something, he delivers another slap in the same place. This time, though, Chan doesn’t let you breathe it out, doesn’t let you take your time to recover from it, no. He rakes his nails on your hot skin, watches as the skin quickly goes from red to white and to an even redder red where he scratched you. Digs his digits into your skin and revels in your gasps, feeling hot and ready to lose control, if a wind would blow in the room, he would cum in an instant. He’s ready for your next moan, your next gasp, but you’re quiet and your legs are trembling, and he’s scared he’s gone too far. He’s on the verge of apologizing, carrying you to the bathroom for a warm bath and cuddles and more apologies when he realizes he read you wrong. He didn’t give you too much, he gave you exactly what you needed, because -unbelievably so, for him- you’re coming. Clit untouched and your sopping hole twitching and throbbing around nothing, but you’re clearly coming. This is a different one, though. You’ve never been quiet while having an orgasm, but watching you with more attention calms him down, you look fine. He kisses you from your thigh to your cheekbone, stopping to nibble at your nipples, tongue lapping at your skin and sucking quick marks on you. “My pretty slut” a kiss on the nose, “you’re so greedy” a kiss on the right cheek, “your little pussy came untouched” a kiss on the forehead, “now I must give it some attention” a kiss on your chin. “Tell me your color?” He adds, tone sweeter and a hand caressing your face like you’re made of the finest glass.

“Green”. A smile appears on his face and he manhandles you to straddle his slacks covered thigh. Your wetness is seeping through the fabric, you squirm and he can see you’re embarrassed. “I told you I was gonna give it some attention. I want my baby girl to feel good.” He grabs you by your hips and forces you to move and grind your pussy on the fabric of his slacks. One of his hands sneaks into your hair and he pulls, stopping you from hiding into his neck. “No hiding. And stop hiding all your pretty sounds from me.”

The pleasure mixed with the overstimulation are overwhelming, and Chan’s new role is playing a big role in the moment and your arousal. His fingers are probably going to leave bruises in your skin, and you can’t wait to stand in front of a mirror to see them. Chan hands guide you back and forth and soon you’re clenching around nothing, “m’close Channie”, too desperate to control your movements.

“It’s okay, my baby. Just ask for it.” His hard cock is begging to be touched, still in the confines of his underwear and trousers. Yet, he has never been this hard and close to coming untouched. Your moans, the redness on your cheeks, the sweat matting your hair to your forehead and your incessant moans and cries of pleasure are making him lose his mind.

“Please Channie, can I cum?” You pant. “Let me cum, Daddy.” The last word is whispered, muffled into his shoulder but he hears it anyway. And he understands why you like it, the name giving him power, giving him a specific role, giving him the chance to give you exactly what you need.

“Then cum for Daddy.”

He watches you as cum, hands guiding your movements and his muscles flexing to give you as much pleasure as he can. He loves you like this, unabashed and free, vulnerable just for him.

But having you moaning and screaming his name is not enough. He doesn’t stop when you try to take a moment to collect yourself, he fixes his hold on your hips and forces your movements again. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again and it doesn’t matter how loud you whine, it doesn't matter your overstimulation, what matters now is making you cum another time. Anytime he pushes you towards him, he also pushes you down, setting an unforgiving pace that is torture on your sensitive clit. He’s relentless, but after just a few minutes you’re both rewarded with your legs clamping down on his thigh as you cum again. Unbelievably so, watching your second orgasm triggers his own orgasm and he moans your name loudly. He kisses you, messy and hungry, lips demanding and tongue insistent, claiming even your breath.

You’re gripping his shirt so hard, your fingers hurt. He delicately lays you down onto the bed and kisses you softly. As soon as his breathing comes back to normal, his worries come back too.

“Are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you? Was it too much? What do yo-“ you interrupt him with silly, quick kisses, trying to diminish his worries.

“I am more than okay.” A kiss. “I feel perfect.” A kiss. “You were perfect.” A kiss. “You’re always perfect, love.” A kiss. “I love you.” A kiss.

You kiss some more and he insists on showering together so he can take care of you and make sure you drink water and eat some fruit and chocolate. He tells you all about trying on himself what he did to you, and you’ve never loved him more.

[dreamersworldduh]

HIS AWAKENING

• NATE JACOBS x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Nate Jacobs embodies the quintessential all-American quarterback—athletic, commanding, and effortlessly attractive. Beneath the surface, however, lies a man riddled with inner conflict. His outward bravado conceals a fragile core shaped by toxic societal expectations, a broken family dynamic, and a deep struggle with his own identity. Nate's carefully constructed image masks a storm of repressed emotions, his intimidating presence serving as both armor and a warning to those who might venture too close.

That is, until Y/N entered his life. Strikingly handsome and unapologetically bold, Y/N exudes a magnetic confidence that demands attention the moment he walks into a room. His blend of charisma, sass, and fearless energy challenges everything Nate thought he knew about himself—and about the walls he's built to keep others out.

WARNING! FLUFF. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 10.8k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Sorry for the delay—this is quite a long fic that I had to break into two parts. Now, I know some people feel about the immensely complicated Nate Jacobs, however, I wanted to show a different side of him and give his gay awakening.

NEXT PART! HIS AWAKENING — PART 2

The late afternoon sun bathed the campus in a golden hue, casting long, uneven shadows across the pathways. Y/N stepped out of the administrative building, a folder clutched tightly in his hands, filled with room and board information, dormitory rules, and a map of the sprawling university grounds. His mind buzzed with anticipation and a hint of nervousness as he mentally ticked off the steps to get settled. The day had been a whirlwind of check-ins and introductions, and all he wanted now was to find his dorm, unpack, and get a moment to breathe.

Lost in his thoughts, Y/N barely noticed the bustling crowd of students around him until it was too late.

Without warning, he collided with what felt like a brick wall. The impact sent his folder slipping from his grip, papers scattering onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry—" Y/N began, crouching to gather his things, but his apology was cut short by a sharp, irritated voice.

"Maybe you should watch where you're standing," the stranger snapped, his tone clipped and unforgiving.

Y/N froze mid-reach, his gaze snapping upward to meet the source of the hostility. He was greeted by the sight of a towering figure, broad-shouldered and radiating a palpable air of arrogance. The guy was wearing a football jersey, the bold number on his chest practically screaming athlete. His jaw was set, and the way he loomed over Y/N gave off a distinctly entitled vibe.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, straightening up slowly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Didn't realize this was your sidewalk, Mr. Quarterback. Want me to bow next time you grace it with your royal cleats?"

The guy's face darkened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. His jaw tightened as he took a small step forward, towering over Y/N even more. "What's your problem, man?"

"No problem," Y/N replied smoothly, his tone calm but laced with amusement. He dusted off his papers and tucked them back into the folder before glancing back up. "Just don't appreciate being plowed into like I'm part of your warm-up drills. Or is that how you flirt?"

That comment landed like a slap, throwing the quarterback off balance. His brows furrowed, and his mouth opened slightly as if to retort, but he hesitated. Finally, he muttered, "Yeah, not interested, thanks."

Y/N smirked, unbothered, his sharp eyes scanning the guy with calculated precision. There was something about his tightly wound demeanor, the tension in his shoulders, the barely contained frustration in his voice. It was fascinating in a way that made Y/N want to push a little further.

"Relax, big guy. You're not my type either," Y/N said, his smirk widening. "Too much bottled-up rage under all those muscles. But hey, therapy exists for a reason."

The quarterback growled under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "You don't even know me," he bit out, his voice low and simmering with frustration.

Y/N shrugged, already stepping to the side as if to end the encounter. "Don't have to. You've got 'walking anger issues' written all over you." He turned back briefly to add, his tone almost lighthearted, "Oh, and next time you want to storm through a crowd, maybe pick someone who won't call you out."

The quarterback's patience snapped, his voice lowering into a growl as he took a step forward. "What makes you think I won't—?"

Y/N didn't miss a beat, spinning on his heel to face him again, his smirk sharp and dripping with confidence. "Fight me? Go ahead, QB. But fair warning—I fight dirty. And I don't lose."

For a moment, the two stood there, tension crackling between them like a live wire. The quarterback's fists remained clenched, but he didn't move. There was something flickering in his eyes—something unreadable, caught between frustration and intrigue.

Without waiting for a response, Y/N turned on his heel and walked away, his steps confident as he rejoined his waiting parents by the car.

As Y/N disappeared into the crowd, the quarterback remained rooted to the spot, watching him go. His fists slowly unclenched, but his mind raced, replaying the encounter over and over.

What Y/N didn't know, as he laughed with his parents and carried his things to the dormitory, was that the guy he had just clashed with was none other than Nate Jacobs—his soon-to-be roommate.

The dormitory hall buzzed with the energy of move-in day, a cacophony of shuffling boxes, shouted instructions, and the occasional crash of something fragile being dropped. Parents bickered over furniture placement, wide-eyed freshmen struggled to find their rooms, and the air smelled faintly of fresh paint and sweat. Y/N navigated through the chaos with a box tucked under his arm, its contents rattling with every step. His other hand gripped the edges tightly—his track gear was in there, and he wasn't about to let it spill everywhere.

When he reached the door to his room, he paused, his gaze sweeping over the space. It was compact, the two beds crammed against opposite walls, a small shared desk wedged between, and a closet barely big enough to hold his shoes, let alone his wardrobe. Functional, sure, but it was far from luxurious. Still, Y/N's mind was already buzzing with ideas for rearranging the space as he crossed the threshold and set his box down near one of the beds.

"Guess this'll have to do," he muttered to himself, surveying the drab beige walls with mild disinterest.

As he began unpacking, the sound of heavy footsteps thudding down the hallway pulled his attention. The steps grew louder, and then the door creaked open wider behind him. Y/N turned, his curiosity fading into sharp recognition when he saw who was standing there.

Nate Jacobs.

The guy from earlier—the walking brick wall in a football jersey. He stood in the doorway with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his sharp features framed by the dim light from the hallway. His hoodie hung loosely over his broad frame, but the edge of his jersey peeked out, making it impossible not to identify him as "QB." Their eyes locked, and for a moment, neither said anything.

"Oh, great," Y/N said, breaking the silence as he dropped a shirt onto his bed with an exaggerated sigh. "It's you."

Nate's brow furrowed, his face twisting in mild disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath as he stepped inside. He dropped his bag with a heavy thud onto the empty bed opposite Y/N's, rubbing the back of his neck. "Of all the people on campus..."

Y/N leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms as his lips curved into a smirk. "Didn't think the universe hated me enough to make you my roommate, but hey, here we are."

Nate shot him a look, his irritation obvious. "Trust me, I'm not thrilled either. Last thing I need is to share a room with some loudmouth track star who doesn't know when to shut up."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Loudmouth? Big talk coming from the guy who growled at me like a pissed-off grizzly bear earlier."

"You were the one running your mouth first," Nate countered, his jaw tightening as he crossed his arms.

Y/N straightened up, walking to his stack of boxes with a casual air. "Right," he said, tossing a look over his shoulder. "And you were just minding your own business, Mr. 'Maybe you should watch where you're standing.'"

Nate scoffed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Look, let's just get through this without killing each other, alright? I've got enough on my plate without you adding to it."

Y/N paused, one hand resting on the box he was about to open. For a moment, his smirk softened into something more contemplative. "Fine by me," he said lightly. "As long as you don't turn this place into a football locker room, we're good."

"Deal," Nate replied, though his tone carried the faintest hint of skepticism.

Satisfied, Y/N returned to his unpacking, pulling out a stack of books and arranging them on the small shelf above his desk. "You're not gonna do the whole 'alpha male' thing in here, are you?" he asked without looking up.

Nate frowned, clearly caught off guard by the question. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You know," Y/N said, waving a hand in Nate's direction without turning around. "All the posturing, random yelling, punching walls when your team loses. That sort of thing."

Nate's glare could have cut through steel. "Do I look like the kind of guy who punches walls?"

Y/N turned to face him, his gaze raking over Nate's broad frame. "Honestly? Yeah, you kinda do."

Nate opened his mouth to argue but stopped, clearly deciding it wasn't worth the effort. With a low growl, he turned back to his duffel, pulling out a stack of neatly folded shirts.

Y/N chuckled under his breath as he returned to his own unpacking. "Relax, QB," he said with a grin. "I'll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine. Fair enough?"

Nate didn't look up from his bag, but his response was low and clipped. "Fair enough."

For a while, the room was filled with the sound of zippers, rustling papers, and shuffling clothes. The tension between them hadn't disappeared, but it had simmered down enough for them to coexist—for now.

As Y/N placed a framed photo on his desk, he threw a sly glance in Nate's direction. "By the way," he added, his tone casual but teasing, "you should work on your comebacks. 'Loudmouth track star' isn't exactly cutting it."

Nate's jaw tightened again, his hands pausing mid-fold. But this time, he didn't rise to the bait.

"Welcome to the dorm, Nate," Y/N said with a grin, leaning back against his desk. "This is gonna be... fun."

Nate didn't respond, but as he turned back to his bag, the faintest twitch of a smirk crossed his lips—though it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

The sun hung high in the sky, its relentless heat radiating off the manicured grass of the university's sports complex. Sweat clung to the air, sticking to every athlete who dared brave the afternoon heat. The track team had just wrapped up their grueling practice session, their laughter and chatter filling the space near the bleachers.

Y/N stood in the center of his group, casually stretching out his legs. His running shorts were impossibly short, exposing the full expanse of his toned thighs, every muscle seemingly sculpted to perfection. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, catching the sunlight as he leaned into a stretch, completely unbothered by the attention his appearance drew. Y/N was always confident, effortlessly commanding the room—or in this case, the field—without even trying.

Not far away, the football team was mid-drill, their coach barking orders as they ran through their routines. The rhythmic thuds of cleats on turf filled the air, accompanied by the occasional grunt of effort. During a water break, Jake and Ryan, two of Nate's teammates, wandered toward the sideline, their eyes drifting to the scene by the bleachers.

Jake nudged Ryan, nodding toward Y/N. "Man, look at those shorts," he said with a snicker. "I swear, are those even legal? Dude's got more leg on display than half the cheer squad."

Ryan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Right? He's just out here showing off. Like, we get it—you've got legs. Congrats or whatever."

Standing a few feet away, Nate overheard the exchange. He rolled his eyes, tossing a football absently into the air and catching it. Normally, he tuned out their locker-room banter, but today, for some reason, he couldn't resist chiming in.

"Maybe he thinks the shorts make him faster," Nate said, his tone deadpan as he spun the football in his hand. "Aerodynamics or something."

Jake laughed, emboldened by Nate's comment. "Yeah, or he just likes the attention. Look at him. Bet he spends more time flexing in the mirror than running on the track."

Unbeknownst to the trio, Y/N's sharp ears had picked up every word of their conversation. His smirk widened as he straightened up, casually brushing a hand over his shorts as he turned to face them.

"Aw," Y/N called out, his voice sweetly mocking as he strode toward them with deliberate ease. "I didn't realize the football team was so interested in my thighs. Should I start charging for the view, or are compliments enough?"

Jake and Ryan froze mid-laugh, their faces flushing with embarrassment. They exchanged panicked glances, unsure how to respond.

Jake stammered first, trying to recover. "W-We weren't—"

"Oh no, please," Y/N interrupted, holding up a hand as he stepped closer, his smirk wicked. "Don't stop. It's flattering, really. I had no idea my legs were such a hot topic. Maybe next time, though, you could focus on your drills instead of gossiping like high school mean girls."

Ryan muttered defensively, "We weren't gossiping—"

"Sure you weren't," Y/N cut in smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "By the way, if you're gonna talk about someone, maybe be a little less obvious. Your whispers are about as subtle as a marching band."

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He looked like a fish gasping for air, which only made Y/N's smirk grow.

Finally, Y/N's attention shifted to Nate, who was still standing there, the football frozen in his hand. "And you," Y/N said, his tone growing sharper as he cocked his head. "I'm surprised, QB. You had a whole two cents to throw in, but it's funny—I don't remember asking for your opinion."

Nate blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He wasn't used to being directly challenged, especially not by someone like Y/N. His faint smirk faded into a defensive glare. "I didn't say anything worse than what they said."

Y/N tilted his head, pretending to consider this. "True. But unlike them, I thought you had a spine. Guess I was wrong."

Behind Y/N, the track team, who had been watching the interaction unfold with barely contained glee, erupted into muffled laughter. Jake and Ryan didn't dare respond, their embarrassment palpable.

Satisfied with their stunned silence, Y/N tossed one last smirk over his shoulder as he sauntered back toward his team. "Don't worry, boys," he called out breezily. "Not everyone can pull off confidence and shorts. Better luck next time."

Jake muttered under his breath, "Dude's savage."

Nate didn't respond, though his grip on the football tightened. His gaze lingered on Y/N as he rejoined his group, laughing easily with his teammates as if nothing had happened.

Something about Y/N got under Nate's skin, and it wasn't just the sass. It was the sharp wit, the unapologetic confidence, and the way Y/N had absolutely no fear of putting him in his place. It irritated Nate—but it also intrigued him, in a way he couldn't quite shake.

"Jacobs!" the coach yelled, jolting Nate from his thoughts. "Back on the field!"

Nate turned sharply, tossing the football to a teammate with more force than necessary. But as he jogged back to join the drills, his mind stayed stubbornly stuck on Y/N, replaying the encounter over and over.

The silence between Y/N and Nate had become suffocating, stretching across days with no sign of breaking. The tension hung heavy in their shared dorm room, in the classrooms, even on the fields where they practiced their respective sports. Y/N had made it abundantly clear—he wasn't interested in speaking to Nate, or even acknowledging his existence.

For Nate, the lack of interaction was an unfamiliar and deeply unsettling feeling. He wasn't used to being ignored, especially not like this. It gnawed at him in ways he couldn't fully explain, like a splinter lodged too deep to reach but impossible to forget.

It started off as the first rays of dawn spilled into the room, bathing it in a warm orange glow. Nate lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying their last conversation on the field. Y/N, as usual, was up early, moving quietly around the room as he pulled on a fitted t-shirt over his toned frame. His movements were precise, methodical, and entirely devoid of unnecessary noise—a courtesy Nate was beginning to resent.

As Y/N grabbed his backpack and water bottle from the desk, he glanced briefly at his phone, scrolling through notifications. He didn't so much as glance in Nate's direction.

"Morning," Nate offered, his voice low and tentative, breaking the stillness.

Y/N didn't respond. The only sound that followed was the click of the door as it shut behind him.

Nate sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. It was going to be another long day.

By the time class started, the lecture hall buzzed with muted chatter as students trickled in, taking their seats and pulling out notebooks or laptops. Nate entered behind Jake and Ryan, scanning the rows instinctively until his eyes landed on Y/N. He was seated a few rows ahead, angled slightly toward a classmate he was chatting with.

Without realizing it, Nate chose a seat a few rows back, perfectly positioned for an unobstructed view.

Y/N sat with one leg crossed over the other, his notebook balanced on his knee as he scribbled notes in the margins. Every now and then, he leaned toward the person next to him, whispering something that earned a quiet laugh. Nate couldn't hear the words, but he didn't need to. The easy smile on Y/N's face, the relaxed way he carried himself—it was a stark contrast to the cold shoulder he'd been giving Nate.

Nate's eyes lingered. The way Y/N tapped his pen against the desk, the slight furrow of his brow when he focused, the unconscious habit of brushing his fingers through his hair when he stretched—it was all maddeningly distracting.

"You okay, man?" Jake asked, nudging Nate's elbow.

"Yeah," Nate muttered, tearing his gaze away and forcing himself to focus on the professor's droning voice. But even as he tried to take notes, his eyes kept drifting back to Y/N.

As the heat of the afternoon sun bore down on the sports complex, baking the grass and filling the air with the faint scent of sweat and turf. Nate was supposed to be focused on running passing drills, but his attention kept slipping to the track just beyond the field.

Y/N was sprinting, his powerful strides eating up the distance effortlessly. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, and the way he slowed to a stop after his lap left Nate momentarily frozen.

"Jacobs!" the coach's voice barked, snapping Nate out of his thoughts.

"Focus!"

"Yeah, sorry, Coach," Nate muttered, catching the football mid-air and throwing it with a little more force than necessary.

As he jogged back into position, his eyes darted toward the track again. Y/N was standing by his team, his chest heaving as he took a long swig from his water bottle. One of his teammates said something that made him laugh—a loud, easy sound that made Nate's chest tighten.

It was infuriating how completely oblivious Y/N seemed to his presence.

By the two made into the dorm, it was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken words. Y/N entered first, tossing his bag onto his bed without so much as a glance in Nate's direction. Nate followed, shutting the door behind him with a little more force than necessary.

For a while, the only sound was the faint rustling of Y/N unpacking his gear. Nate leaned against the door, his eyes fixed on him. The silence was unbearable.

"Are you ever gonna talk to me again?" Nate asked finally, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife.

Y/N didn't even pause. "Didn't think there was anything left to say."

Nate's jaw tightened. "You're really this pissed about what I said on the field?"

Y/N snapped his head up, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Pissed? No, Nate. I'm disappointed. I thought you were at least capable of being decent, but clearly, I overestimated you."

Nate frowned, stepping closer. "I was joking!"

Y/N shook his head, his voice calm but biting. "Oh, I got the joke. It's just not funny coming from someone who doesn't know the first thing about respect."

Nate opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. Y/N had already turned away, pulling a fresh shirt from his drawer and pointedly ignoring him.

A knock on the door broke the tension. Y/N walked past Nate to open it, revealing one of their neighbors leaning casually against the frame.

"Hey, you two coming to the frat party tonight?" the guy asked.

Y/N glanced over his shoulder at Nate, his tone dismissive. "I'll be there," he said. "Can't say about him."

Nate bristled. "I'm coming too," he said firmly, stepping forward.

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn't respond. Instead, he turned back to the neighbor with a small smirk. "Guess we'll see you there."

The door closed, leaving them alone again. Y/N grabbed his things and left without another word, the silence in the room now suffocating. Nate stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, wrestling with his frustration—and something far more complicated that he couldn't quite name.

The bass reverberated through the cramped frat house, shaking the walls and drowning out any chance of meaningful conversation. The air was thick with the mingling scents of cheap beer, sweat, and an overzealous amount of cologne. Multicolored lights pulsed in time with the music, casting flickering shadows over the packed rooms. People were crammed into every corner, laughing, drinking, and dancing, their movements chaotic but full of life.

In the middle of it all, Y/N commanded the makeshift dance floor in the living room. He wore a cropped black graphic tee emblazoned with a bold design, the hem cutting off just enough to reveal his toned stomach. His low-waist black jeans hugged his hips perfectly, emphasizing his every movement. The outfit, combined with his easy confidence, made it impossible not to watch him.

Y/N moved like the music was a part of him, his arms swaying above his head, his hips rolling effortlessly in time with the beat. His friends surrounded him, hyping him up with loud cheers and playful shouts as he spun and struck teasing poses. A playful grin danced on his lips as he leaned into the energy, the kind of carefree charisma that lit up the entire room.

Across the space, Nate stood with a group of his football teammates near the beer pong table. A red Solo cup dangled from his hand, barely touched, as his gaze kept drifting toward the dance floor. Specifically, toward Y/N.

"What's got you so distracted, man?" Jake nudged Nate's arm, his voice cutting through the din.

"Nothing," Nate muttered, his tone clipped, though his eyes remained locked on Y/N.

Jake smirked but didn't press.

The situation shifted suddenly when a tall guy with dyed hair and a silver chain stepped confidently into Y/N's circle. The stranger's movements were smooth, his intentions clear as he joined Y/N in the rhythm of the music. He leaned closer, his hand brushing Y/N's hip as their steps aligned.

Nate's grip on his cup tightened, the cheap plastic creaking under the pressure.

Jake, noticing, glanced toward the dance floor. "Looks like your roommate's got himself an admirer," he said with a teasing grin.

Nate didn't respond, but his jaw clenched as he watched the stranger say something to Y/N, earning a laugh. Y/N threw his head back, his carefree laugh cutting through the music as he spun into the guy's arms. Their faces were close now—too close.

An unfamiliar irritation churned in Nate's chest, sharp and insistent. It wasn't jealousy. It couldn't be. He didn't even like Y/N like that. So why did seeing him with someone else feel like a punch to the gut?

"You good, man?" Jake asked again, his tone more curious now.

"I'm fine," Nate said shortly, his voice harsh as he tore his gaze away. He tipped his cup back and took a long swig, trying to focus on anything else.

But his resolve faltered almost immediately. His eyes found their way back to the dance floor, where Y/N now had his hands in the air, his body leaning into the guy's. Their movements were perfectly synced, like they'd been dancing together for years. The crowd around them seemed to blur, leaving only the two of them in Nate's focus.

"What's your problem with him, anyway?" Ryan chimed in, noticing Nate's growing tension. "You've been weird about Y/N since day one."

"I don't have a problem," Nate snapped, the words coming out sharper than intended.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Right. And the way you're glaring at that guy right now is totally normal."

Nate scowled, his knuckles whitening around his cup. "I'm not glaring."

"Sure," Ryan said with a smirk. "Whatever you say, QB."

Nate ignored them, his attention snapping back to Y/N just as he threw his arms around the stranger's neck, laughing again. The easy intimacy of it—the way Y/N could just be himself, confident and unbothered—grated on Nate's nerves.

It wasn't just the dance. It was the way someone else was getting Y/N's attention, his laughter, his energy. It was the way Nate couldn't seem to draw that out of him anymore, no matter how hard he tried.

Before he could stop himself, Nate muttered under his breath, "What's so great about that guy, anyway?"

Jake burst out laughing. "Oh, this is gold. Jacobs is jealous."

"Shut up," Nate growled, shoving Jake lightly, though his flushed face betrayed him.

Jake kept laughing, but Nate didn't care. His focus was entirely on Y/N, who seemed to sense Nate's eyes on him. Y/N glanced up, his gaze locking with Nate's for the briefest moment.

Y/N's expression was unreadable, but the smirk that tugged at his lips wasn't. It was sly, teasing, and far too knowing, as if Y/N could see right through him.

Nate's stomach twisted.

Y/N turned back to his dance partner, but not before throwing Nate a look that seemed to say, I see you watching.

Scowling, Nate tipped his cup back again, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He tried for the rest of the night to focus on his teammates, on the beer pong game, on anything other than Y/N. But no matter what he did, his thoughts kept circling back to him.

And that damn smirk.

Soon the party had shifted into its final stages, the once-deafening music now muted, replaced by the hum of lingering conversations and occasional bursts of laughter. The crowd had thinned, but pockets of energy still buzzed throughout the house. In the corner near the door, Y/N leaned heavily against the wall, his cheeks flushed, his eyes slightly glassy from one too many drinks. Despite his clear intoxication, he retained that magnetic, carefree air, laughing easily at something the guy next to him said.

The guy—a tall, confident-looking student with a cocky smirk—leaned in close, his lips brushing against Y/N's ear as he whispered something that made Y/N giggle. Y/N swayed slightly, his balance unsteady, and the guy placed an arm around his waist, guiding him with ease. Y/N leaned into the touch, his body language loose and trusting as the guy began steering him toward the front door.

From a few feet away, Nate watched the scene unfold, his grip tightening on the edge of his Solo cup. For the past ten minutes, he had been quietly observing, his irritation building with every second. Jake and Ryan stood nearby, but their banter barely registered as Nate's attention remained fixed on Y/N.

When he saw the guy's arm slide more firmly around Y/N's waist, something inside Nate snapped.

"Where are you going?" Nate's voice cut through the air as he stepped forward, his tone sharp and commanding.

Both Y/N and the guy turned to face him, the sudden interruption catching them off guard. Y/N blinked, momentarily confused, before a lazy smirk spread across his face. "Hey, QB. Didn't know you cared," he drawled, his words slurred just enough to betray how drunk he was. He leaned more heavily against the guy, his body swaying slightly.

Nate ignored Y/N's teasing and turned his full attention to the other guy, his piercing gaze hard and unwavering. "You can leave," Nate said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "He's not going anywhere with you."

The guy frowned, holding up his hands defensively. "What's your problem, man? We're just leaving. It's not a big deal."

"It is if he's drunk," Nate snapped back, stepping closer. His voice was low and edged with a quiet intensity that made the guy falter. "Find someone else to bother."

Y/N chuckled, clearly amused by the exchange. "Relax, Nate," he said, his voice thick with amusement and alcohol. "I can handle myself. Not my first rodeo."

"You're wasted," Nate retorted, his eyes narrowing as he reached out and gently but firmly pulled Y/N away from the guy's hold. His hand rested on Y/N's arm, steadying him as Y/N stumbled slightly. "You don't even know this dude."

Y/N looked up at Nate, his expression shifting to one of annoyance and mild curiosity. "Wow," he said, his tone biting. "Since when are you my babysitter?"

"I'm not," Nate shot back through gritted teeth. "But I'm also not letting you do something stupid."

The guy, clearly irritated now, stepped forward. "Look, man, it's none of your business—"

"It is now," Nate interrupted, his voice dangerously low. His glare alone was enough to make the guy hesitate. "Go."

The guy looked between Nate and Y/N, his frustration evident, before scoffing and throwing up his hands. "Whatever, dude. Your problem now." He turned on his heel and disappeared back into the thinning crowd.

Y/N pulled his arm free from Nate's grip, his movements unsteady but deliberate as he glared at him. "Seriously, what is your deal?" he demanded. "I was having fun."

"You call that fun?" Nate shot back, crossing his arms. "Getting blackout drunk and going home with some random guy?"

Y/N smirked, but it was weaker now, less sure. "Jealous, QB?" he teased, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Nate's jaw tightened, his gaze darting away for a moment as he struggled to find the right words. "No," he said finally, though even to himself, it sounded unconvincing. "I just don't want to deal with you getting into trouble and me having to explain it to the RA."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning closer as his smirk returned, sharper this time. "Right. Totally about the RA," he said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity, "and not because you can't stand seeing me with someone else."

Nate's eyes snapped back to Y/N's, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of them said anything, the silence stretching between them thick with tension.

"You're drunk," Nate said finally, his voice softer now, almost reluctant. "Let's just get you back to the dorm."

Y/N sighed heavily, leaning back against the wall. "Fine, QB," he muttered. "But only because these shoes are killing me."

Nate rolled his eyes but stepped closer, steadying Y/N with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Come on."

As they made their way out of the frat house, Y/N mumbled something incoherent about his shoes and the terrible music, his head lolling slightly against Nate's shoulder. Nate kept his grip steady, his chest tightening in a way he couldn't quite explain.

It wasn't about the RA. He knew that much.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop pretending otherwise.

The dormitory door slammed open with a loud bang, the sound echoing down the quiet hallway as Nate strode inside, his steps purposeful and heavy. Draped over his broad shoulder like an unruly sack of potatoes was Y/N, who groaned loudly, his legs kicking weakly in protest. Despite his best efforts to wriggle free, Nate held him firmly, his strength making any escape attempts laughable.

Y/N had made a valiant, if poorly coordinated, attempt to run away halfway back to the dorm, weaving unsteadily down the sidewalk in a way that had Nate's patience snapping. Without a word, Nate had hoisted him up with an ease that left no room for negotiation.

"Put me down, Nate!" Y/N shouted, his voice muffled against Nate's back as he bounced slightly with each determined step. "I don't need your help!"

"You're drunk," Nate replied flatly, his tone devoid of amusement as he kicked the dorm room door shut behind them with a sharp thud. "And you almost ran into traffic, so yeah, you kinda do."

Y/N let out an exaggerated groan, his fists weakly thudding against Nate's back in a half-hearted attempt to protest. "I hate you," he grumbled, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol still coursing through his system.

"Sure you do," Nate replied dryly, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he moved across the room. Despite his curt tone, he lowered Y/N onto his bed with far more care than he wanted to admit, making sure the other boy landed softly.

Y/N sat up almost immediately, swaying slightly as he jabbed a wobbly finger in Nate's direction. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and defiance, though his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes robbed it of any real weight. "I don't need your hero complex right now, okay? I can take care of myself."

Nate crossed his arms, his broad frame looming over Y/N as he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Really? You couldn't even walk in a straight line five minutes ago."

Y/N scowled, his hands fumbling with the hem of his crop top as he attempted to smooth it out and reclaim some semblance of dignity. "Doesn't mean I needed you to carry me like I'm some damsel in distress," he shot back, his voice petulant. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" Nate repeated, his tone heavy with disbelief. He stepped closer, leaning down until they were at eye level. His piercing gaze locked onto Y/N's, refusing to let him look away. "You're a sweaty, drunk mess who tried to ditch me in the middle of the street. That's not fine, Y/N."

Y/N opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. The closeness between them was almost suffocating, the intensity in Nate's expression enough to leave him momentarily speechless.

"Exactly," Nate said after a beat, his voice softer but no less firm. "Now sit still and stop trying to act like you've got this handled."

Y/N opened his mouth, ready to fire back with another slurred but defiant retort, but before he could get a word out, Nate moved. In one swift motion, he reached forward and tugged Y/N's crop top over his head, leaving the smaller boy momentarily stunned.

"Hey!" Y/N squawked, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to grab the shirt back. His movements were clumsy and ineffective, his balance still shaky from the alcohol. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting you out of this," Nate replied matter-of-factly, his tone steady and unbothered. He held the damp, sweat-soaked crop top between two fingers as if it were offensive before tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor. "You're gonna feel like crap in the morning if you stay in it."

For a moment, Y/N could only blink at him, his brain scrambling to process what had just happened. He crossed his arms over his now-bare chest, his cheeks flushing a deep pink—not entirely from the alcohol. "You could've asked, you know," he muttered, his tone more flustered than annoyed.

Nate smirked faintly, crossing the room to rummage through Y/N's drawer. "Yeah, because you totally would've cooperated," he shot back, pulling out an oversized t-shirt that looked soft and well-worn.

Y/N glared at him, the heat in his cheeks only intensifying as Nate approached with the clean shirt. "I could've done it myself," he muttered, but the bite in his tone was weak.

"Sure you could've," Nate replied dryly, kneeling slightly to pull the shirt over Y/N's head with surprising gentleness. His hands brushed against Y/N's skin as he adjusted the hem, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected shiver down Y/N's spine.

Y/N froze for a split second, his heart racing inexplicably as Nate leaned back to survey his work.

"There," Nate said, straightening up. His tone was softer now, almost satisfied. "Better."

Y/N shifted on the bed, his arms dropping to his sides as he glanced down at the oversized tee now hanging loosely on his frame. He tried to ignore the way his pulse was pounding, instead narrowing his eyes at Nate in an attempt to regain some semblance of control.

"Great," he muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms again. "You've played dress-up. Now leave me alone."

But the way his voice wavered slightly at the end betrayed him, and Nate's smirk deepened just enough for Y/N to notice.

Nate ignored Y/N's protests, dropping to a crouch at the foot of the bed and reaching for his shoes. The laces were tangled, no doubt from Y/N's stumbling attempts to leave the party earlier. Nate tugged at the knots, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, his expression calm despite the grumbled complaints coming from above.

"Seriously?" Y/N said, his tone a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He tried to sit up straighter, wobbling slightly as he propped himself up on his elbows. "I can handle that."

"Uh-huh," Nate replied without looking up, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he slipped off one shoe, followed quickly by the other.

Y/N scowled, his brows knitting together. "I'm not completely useless, you know," he muttered.

Nate finally glanced up, his piercing eyes locking on Y/N's. "Right. Because you've been handling everything so well tonight," he quipped, his tone dry. Then, as if it were the most casual thing in the world, he added, "Do you wanna try taking your pants off yourself, or are you gonna make me do that too?"

Y/N's face turned a deep scarlet, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "Excuse me?" he sputtered, his voice pitching higher than usual.

"Relax," Nate said, rolling his eyes as he reached for Y/N's legs, pulling him closer to the edge of the bed with little effort. "It's not like that."

Y/N froze, momentarily too stunned to respond as Nate's hands moved to the waistband of his jeans. With a flick of his fingers, Nate unbuttoned them, the sound of the zipper loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Nate worked with practiced efficiency, sliding the jeans down Y/N's legs and tossing them aside in one smooth motion. Left in nothing but his snug boxer briefs, Y/N instinctively crossed his legs, his flushed cheeks now impossibly red.

"Happy now?" Y/N muttered, avoiding Nate's gaze as he tugged at the hem of the oversized shirt Nate had put on him earlier.

Nate didn't respond immediately. He stood, his full height towering over Y/N, and for a moment, his gaze lingered. It wasn't just exasperation anymore—there was something softer in his expression, something unspoken that made Y/N's heart stutter in his chest.

"There," Nate said finally, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. "You're good."

Y/N looked up at him, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tried to ignore the heat rising in his face. "You're really annoying, you know that?" he mumbled, though there was no real malice in his tone.

Nate smirked, taking a small step closer. The corner of his mouth quirked up in that infuriatingly confident way, but his voice carried a hint of warmth. "Yeah," he said, his tone low, "but you'll thank me in the morning."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, meeting Nate's gaze for the first time. "Doubt it," he shot back, his voice softer than he intended.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful tension from earlier dissolved into something heavier, more charged. Nate didn't move, and neither did Y/N, their eyes locked in a silent exchange that seemed to stretch on forever.

The sound of Nate's steady breathing filled the small space between them, his presence overwhelming. Y/N could feel the heat radiating from him, his own pulse racing as he fought to keep his expression neutral.

Nate leaned forward slightly, his smirk softening into something more tentative, more vulnerable. Y/N held his breath, his gaze flickering to Nate's lips before quickly snapping back to his eyes.

But then Nate straightened, stepping back with a barely audible sigh. "Get some sleep," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant.

Y/N didn't respond, his heart still pounding as he watched Nate retreat to his side of the room. The unspoken tension hung in the air long after the moment passed, leaving Y/N staring at the ceiling and wondering why he couldn't shake the way Nate had looked at him.

The dormitory bathroom was dimly lit, its harsh fluorescent lights buzzing faintly in the stillness. The quiet was broken only by the sound of Y/N brushing his teeth, the rhythmic scrape of bristles against enamel filling the otherwise empty space. He leaned lazily against the sink, still groggy from the remnants of sleep and the unsettling memory of a strange, vivid dream he couldn't quite shake.

After rinsing his mouth, he splashed cold water on his face, hoping to clear the lingering haze in his mind. Grabbing a towel, he dabbed at his skin, his thoughts elsewhere. When he turned to leave, he froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat.

Nate stood in the doorway, his broad figure filling the frame, one shoulder casually propped against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, the muscles in his forearms tense, and his expression unreadable. He didn't move, blocking the exit as his piercing eyes bore into Y/N.

"Jesus, Nate," Y/N said, his voice muffled as he tossed the towel aside onto the counter. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing here?"

Nate shrugged, his eyes flicking away for a brief moment before locking back onto Y/N. "Bathroom's on the way to my room," he said casually, his voice steady but lacking its usual bite. "Didn't know I needed permission to stand here."

Y/N narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the sink. "Right. Because loitering outside the bathroom at midnight is totally normal behavior."

Nate didn't reply immediately. Instead, he studied Y/N with an intensity that made the air between them feel heavier. The silence lingered too long, his gaze dipping slightly before snapping back up.

Y/N's expression shifted, his brow furrowing as he straightened slightly. The teasing edge in his voice was gone when he spoke again. "Alright, spill. Why did you really stop me from leaving with that guy at the party?"

Nate's posture stiffened, his arms dropping slightly as he stood up straighter. His jaw worked for a moment before he finally spoke. "I already told you," he said, his voice clipped. "You were drunk. You could've done something stupid."

"Uh-huh," Y/N said slowly, tilting his head as if trying to see through Nate's words. His tone was skeptical, almost mocking. "And I'm supposed to believe it had nothing to do with... jealousy?"

Nate let out a bark of laughter, but it sounded forced, too sharp to be genuine. "Jealousy?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Trust me, I wasn't jealous. You're not that special."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at that, his lips curving into a sly smirk. "Oh, really?" he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Then why were you staring daggers at him all night?"

"I wasn't," Nate snapped, his response too quick, too defensive.

Y/N pushed off the sink, taking a step closer. The distance between them was shrinking, and with it, the tension in the room thickened. "You sure about that, QB?" Y/N asked, his voice low, teasing. "Because if I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't like the idea of me with someone else."

Nate's jaw tightened further, his fists flexing at his sides as if he were trying to keep them still. "Don't flatter yourself," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm straight, okay? You're not my type. At all."

Y/N paused, studying him closely, his smirk fading into something softer, more curious. His eyes searched Nate's face, lingering on the tight line of his mouth and the tension in his brow. "Right," Y/N said finally, his tone quieter but no less pointed. "You're straight. That's why you've been acting weird around me since day one."

Nate stepped forward, his height casting a shadow over Y/N as he closed the remaining space between them. "I'm not acting weird," he said firmly, his voice lowering. "You're the one making this into something it's not."

Y/N didn't back down, his chin tilting slightly as he met Nate's gaze head-on. For a moment, the room felt impossibly small, the charged silence pressing in on both of them.

"Okay," Y/N said finally, his voice calm but tinged with something knowing. "If that's what you need to tell yourself." He moved past Nate, his shoulder brushing against him as he stopped at the doorway. Y/N paused, glancing over his shoulder with a faint, almost teasing smile. "But just so you know, people who are totally straight don't usually get this worked up over their 'not-my-type' roommate."

Nate didn't move, his fists clenching at his sides as he watched Y/N disappear down the hall. His chest felt tight, each breath harder to take as Y/N's words echoed in his head.

I'm straight, he told himself, gripping the edge of the counter as he turned toward the mirror.

But as he stared at his own reflection, the doubt that flickered in his eyes told a different story. For the first time, Nate wasn't sure what he believed anymore.

The countertops were cluttered with stray utensils and empty mugs, evidence of late nights and hurried mornings. The air was thick with the mingling aroma of freshly brewed coffee and whatever leftovers Nate had just pulled from the fridge.

Y/N stood by the counter, the picture of effortless ease. He leaned back casually, his mug cradled in one hand as steam curled lazily upward. His other hand drummed a slow, steady rhythm against the counter's edge, as though he had all the time in the world. His eyes flicked to Nate, who was bent over, half inside the fridge, rummaging noisily.

"Move," Nate said abruptly, his tone more gruff than polite as he turned, balancing a carton of milk and an apple in one hand. His shoulder bumped Y/N's in an impatient nudge.

Y/N, unfazed, merely smirked. He didn't shift an inch. "Say 'please,'" he drawled, his voice teasing, laced with just enough challenge to be infuriating.

Nate huffed audibly, clearly not in the mood for games. He stepped closer without hesitation, closing the already minimal gap between them. His broad chest brushed against Y/N's back as he reached over the counter to grab the half-empty box of cereal perched precariously near the edge.

The contact was brief but electric. Y/N's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, a small hitch in his breath betraying him before he quickly smoothed over the moment with a practiced veneer of nonchalance. He tilted his head just slightly, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Careful, QB," Y/N said lightly, his tone deliberately playful. "Buy me dinner first."

Nate recoiled as if burned, retreating a step too quickly. "You're annoying," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and clipped. He kept his gaze fixed on the counter, avoiding Y/N's eyes entirely as he busied himself pouring cereal into a bowl with far more focus than the task required.

But the flush creeping up Nate's neck was impossible to miss. A faint pink dusted his cheeks, standing out against his otherwise stoic expression.

Y/N noticed, of course. He always noticed. A slow, self-satisfied grin spread across his face as he turned back to his coffee, taking a deliberate sip. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he pretended not to notice Nate's embarrassment.

The gym was quieter than usual, its usual cacophony of clanging weights and rhythmic grunts reduced to a distant hum. The faint smell of rubber mats and chalk lingered in the air, mingling with the sharper scent of sweat. Y/N lay stretched out on the bench press, his fingers curling around the cold metal bar, the plates on either side gleaming faintly under the fluorescent lights.

Nate's shadow loomed over him, breaking his focus. "Need a spot?" he asked, his tone casual but carrying a slight edge, the way it always did when he was talking to Y/N.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His lips quirked into a lazy smirk. "Didn't know you cared."

Nate crossed his arms, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Someone's gotta make sure you don't drop the bar on your face," he shot back, stepping closer. His hands hovered just above the bar, ready but not intrusive.

With a small huff of amusement, Y/N settled back into position and began his reps. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, muscles contracting and releasing as he powered through each press. The bar creaked faintly under the strain, but Y/N's focus didn't waver. Nate, however, wasn't as disciplined.

Despite himself, Nate's gaze kept slipping—drifting over the line of Y/N's arms, the way his biceps flexed with each upward thrust, the tautness of his shoulders under the weight. The faint sheen of sweat on Y/N's skin caught the light, highlighting the sharp lines and curves of his body. It was distracting, far more than Nate would ever admit, even to himself.

"You gonna stare all day, or are you actually spotting me?" Y/N teased, his voice breathless but carrying that familiar sharpness. He didn't even look up, but the smirk in his tone was unmistakable.

Nate jerked slightly, caught off guard. A faint flush crept up his neck, and he quickly averted his eyes, his focus snapping back to the bar. "Focus on the bar," he muttered, his voice tighter than usual.

Y/N chuckled, a low, knowing sound that Nate found both infuriating and—he'd never admit it—amusing. With a controlled motion, Y/N lowered the bar back onto the rack, the clanging sound reverberating through the gym. He sat up, rolling his shoulders and reaching for his water bottle, his grin still firmly in place.

"Whatever you say, coach," Y/N said, the words dripping with playful mockery.

Nate didn't reply right away, his jaw tightening as he busied himself adjusting a nearby weight. He could still feel the heat creeping up his face and silently cursed himself for it. Meanwhile, Y/N leaned back against the bench, casually stretching his arms overhead, his grin widening as he watched Nate's back stiffen ever so slightly. The unspoken tension between them hung in the air, heavy but electric, as Nate fought to maintain his composure.

"You done admiring me, or should I grab the dumbbells next?" Y/N quipped, breaking the silence with another laugh.

"Shut up, Y/N," Nate muttered, but his voice lacked the usual bite, and Y/N only laughed harder.

The library was nearly deserted, the silence broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of paper. Rows of bookshelves stretched out in every direction, casting long shadows across the polished wood floors. At one of the large study tables near the back, Y/N and Nate sat side by side, an unintentional arrangement born from choosing the same spot at nearly the same time. Neither had moved, both too stubborn to concede the table to the other.

Y/N was sprawled comfortably in his chair, a picture of effortless confidence. A few loose papers and an open notebook were scattered in front of him, but he wasn't exactly focused on them. Instead, he leaned forward to grab a book from the far corner of the table, the movement causing his cropped hoodie to ride up just enough to expose a strip of skin along his waist.

Nate noticed. He hadn't meant to, but his eyes flicked downward, caught for a moment too long on the sliver of skin and the faint shadow of muscle underneath. His jaw tightened as he quickly looked away, his fingers tapping out a random rhythm against the keyboard of his laptop, but it was too late.

Y/N straightened up slowly, his sharp eyes catching Nate's fleeting glance. A smirk spread across his lips, equal parts amusement and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, the motion making his shirt ride even higher.

"See something you like?" Y/N asked, his voice low and teasing, the tone carrying just enough edge to make Nate freeze.

Nate's ears turned bright red, a telltale sign he was flustered despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. "Your shirt's just... short," he mumbled, awkwardly gesturing toward it with one hand, his eyes resolutely fixed on the table now.

Y/N's smirk only deepened. He tilted his head, leaning slightly toward Nate as if to close the already narrow space between them. "Yeah? Guess that's why you can't stop staring." His tone was light, almost casual, but there was a deliberate weight behind his words that made Nate's discomfort palpable.

Nate cleared his throat, his fingers suddenly flying across his keyboard with an intensity that suggested he was trying to summon every ounce of focus he could muster. "Focus on your work," he muttered, his voice gruff. He didn't look up, but the slight jiggling of his leg under the table gave him away, a nervous tell he couldn't quite control.

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound barely louder than a whisper in the quiet library. "Whatever you say, Nate," he drawled, leaning back even farther in his chair, his arms still crossed. He watched Nate out of the corner of his eye, clearly enjoying the way the quarterback's posture grew more rigid with every passing second.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, and Nate stepped into the room, steam trailing after him like a veil. His hair was damp, darkened by water, and clinging messily to his forehead. A towel sat low on his hips, barely secured, revealing the sharp cut of his hip bones and the lean muscle of his torso. Droplets of water traced erratic paths down his chest and abs, glinting under the soft glow of the desk lamp in the dim dorm room.

Y/N, seated at his desk with his laptop open, barely registered the movement at first. But as Nate leaned casually against the doorframe, the sudden presence was impossible to ignore. Y/N's gaze flicked up instinctively, his eyebrows shooting upward in a mixture of surprise and exasperation.

"What?" Nate asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though the smirk curling at his lips betrayed him. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning more comfortably against the doorframe, the motion emphasizing the play of muscle under his skin. "Never seen someone fresh out of the shower before?"

Y/N scoffed, forcing his attention back to his screen even as his ears burned. "Boy, please. You could... put some clothes on," he said, his voice coming out more strained than he intended.

Nate didn't miss the tension. His smirk widened, and he pushed off the doorframe with deliberate slowness, walking across the room to his side. Each step seemed to echo, purposeful, and exaggerated.

"Oh, what's the matter, Y/N?" he drawled, his tone rich with teasing. "Afraid you'll see something you like?" His voice dipped just enough to make the words hang in the air, playful but laced with challenge.

Y/N didn't look up, his fingers hovering over his keyboard as if pretending to type. His shoulders were stiff, his neck tense, and his face was turning a shade of red that Nate couldn't help but notice.

"Shut up," Y/N growled, the words coming out more flustered than threatening. His eyes stayed glued to his laptop screen, though his focus was clearly elsewhere.

Nate chuckled, the sound low and satisfied, as he finally pulled open his dresser drawer. He took his time grabbing clothes, moving as if he had all the time in the world. Every so often, he threw a glance over his shoulder, catching the way Y/N's jaw tightened, the way his hands fidgeted in his lap.

Revenge had never tasted this sweet. For all the teasing Y/N had put him through, Nate was finally getting his moment, and he was enjoying it far too much.

"I'm just saying," Nate added, his voice light and casual, "if it bothers you that much, you could always move to another room."

Y/N didn't respond. His screen was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world, though the pink flush creeping down his neck gave him away.

Nate grinned to himself as he pulled a shirt over his head, the satisfaction of his victory lingering in the air like the faint mist from his shower.

However, victories can only last so long.

The music pounded through the packed frat house, the bass vibrating through the floor and reverberating in Y/N's chest. The dim, colorful lights shifted and spun, casting the room in flashes of blue and red as bodies swayed to the rhythm. Y/N was in the center of the makeshift dance floor, moving effortlessly to the beat, his hips rolling with a confidence that was impossible to ignore.

His low-waist jeans clung perfectly to his figure, dipping low enough to reveal the faintest hint of skin between the waistband and his cropped graphic tee. The shirt, short enough to tease his toned stomach, shimmered slightly under the lights. Every movement, every turn of his body, seemed to draw eyes his way.

Across from him, a frat guy stepped closer, emboldened by Y/N's easy energy. His hands inched toward Y/N's waist, a sly grin on his face as he leaned in. Y/N let it happen, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as he played along, his movements slowing to match the guy's. The moment lingered, electrified by the heat of the crowd and the pull of the music.

But from the edge of the room, Nate stood frozen, his grip on the Solo cup in his hand tightening with every second. He hadn't touched the drink in over ten minutes, his focus entirely on the scene unfolding in front of him. His jaw was set, his chest rising and falling as he fought the growing frustration gnawing at him.

When the frat guy leaned in even closer, his hand brushing against Y/N's hip, Nate's patience snapped.

He pushed through the throng of dancers, his broad shoulders cutting a path as he moved toward Y/N. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed Y/N's wrist, his grip firm but not rough.

"Hey—what the hell?" Y/N yelped, stumbling slightly as Nate yanked him away from the dance floor.

Ignoring the frat guy's startled protests and Y/N's struggles, Nate dragged him through the crowd and up the stairs. The music faded to a dull thrum as they reached the second floor, the noise from the party below muffled behind closed doors. Nate shoved open the door to an empty room, pulling Y/N inside before slamming it shut behind them.

The sudden silence was jarring, broken only by Y/N's heavy breathing as he wrenched his arm free.

"Seriously, Nate? Again?" Y/N snapped, spinning to face him. His chest was still heaving from dancing, his hair slightly damp from the heat of the room. "What is your problem?"

Nate stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes dark and unreadable as they bore into Y/N. "What the hell were you doing with that guy?" he demanded, his voice low and strained.

Y/N scoffed, throwing his hands up. "Dancing? Flirting? Having fun? You know, normal things people do at parties?"

"That guy wasn't—" Nate started, his voice rising, but Y/N cut him off.

"Oh, don't even start," Y/N said, stepping closer and jabbing a finger at Nate's chest. His voice was sharp, each word like a dagger. "Straight people don't get to interfere in their gay roommate's love life just because they're feeling territorial. You've got no right to—"

"Shut up!" Nate barked, his voice rough and cracking at the edges.

Y/N froze for a beat, his eyes narrowing. "No. You shut up, Nate," he snapped back, his tone fierce. "I don't know what's got you so wound up, but I'm not gonna let you treat me like I'm some kind of—"

"I don't know what I'm doing, alright?" Nate interrupted, his voice suddenly softer, almost desperate. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room in agitated strides. "I don't—this isn't normal for me. I've never felt like this before."

"Felt like what?" Y/N asked, his voice losing some of its bite as he crossed his arms.

"Like this!" Nate snapped, stopping abruptly to face Y/N. His eyes were raw with emotion, his composure slipping with every word. "About a guy. About you."

The confession hung in the air like a thunderclap, the weight of it pressing down on both of them. Y/N stared at Nate, his expression softening but his guard still firmly in place.

"You're kidding," Y/N said finally, his voice quieter but still edged with disbelief. "You, Mr. I'm-Straight-As-An-Arrow, have feelings for me?"

Nate exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging as he looked away. "I don't know what this is," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "I didn't let myself think about it."

"Think about what?" Y/N pressed, his tone gentler now, the anger replaced by curiosity.

Nate's gaze snapped back to Y/N's, and for the first time, his vulnerability was laid bare. "You," he said simply. "How you make me feel. How much it pisses me off to see you with someone else. How I can't stop thinking about you, no matter how much I try."

Y/N blinked, stunned into silence as the words sunk in. For the first time, he didn't have a quick comeback.

Before he could respond, Nate crossed the room in a single step, his hands cupping Y/N's face as he leaned in.

The kiss was hesitant at first, almost unsure, but the moment their lips met, everything else fell away. Y/N's hands instinctively found the front of Nate's hoodie, gripping the fabric as he kissed back. The hesitation dissolved into something more certain, the kiss deepening as weeks of tension and unspoken feelings spilled out between them.

It was messy and unpracticed, their movements slightly clumsy but real. When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they struggled to process what had just happened.

"Wow," Y/N murmured after a beat, his voice soft but tinged with amusement. "Didn't think you had it in you, QB."

Nate let out a shaky laugh, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Yeah. Me neither."