#like… how would they act in certain situations? how did those dates go that they went on?
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em1i2a3 · 7 days ago
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My Favourite Game
Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader!
Summary: You haven’t had much luck when it comes to dating and sex which has inadvertently placed you in a position of being wholly inexperienced with the whole scene in general. But when your long time friend Rhett Abbott offers you a way to experiment safely to figure out what to do, you immediately jump at the opportunity–desperate to learn and get more experience.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers? Hell yeah! Reader is inexperienced and actually has a safe space to actually experiment. The dynamics between Rhett and Reader are extremely comfortable (they talk about a lot of personal things), They’ve been friends for a while (high school acquaintances turned adult friends), Mentions of Violence (kind of vague as well), Rhett is Mentioned to be Protective
Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all…), Oral Sex (fem! And male! Receiving), Fingering, Biting (leaving marks), Dirty Talk, Hickeys and Love Bites, Cum Play, Swallowing, Hair Pulling, Choking, Overstimulation, Semi–Public Sex (Truck Sex y’all wahoooo lol), Handjobs, Riding, Making Out, Thigh Riding, Praising/WorshippingTeasing (physically), Begging, Reader is described as being inexperienced they have had sex though, just really bad sex, Very Soft Dom and Sub dynamics that switches, Finger Sucking, Gagging (very brief moment, nothing extreme), Good Girl is used.
Author’s Note: Jesus Christ, that’s a lot of smut warnings lol. I loved writing this, I buy into the friends to lovers trope so much, but I also enjoy the ‘I’m teaching you new things about yourself and we’re slowly falling for each other’ trope lol. Did I go off on this and have to change my keyboard midway through because the A, D, F and G keys break? Yep. But holy hell did I enjoy writing this new segment of RAF and I’m so excited to keep writing for this man!
Word Count: 13,962
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It was painfully evident that you didn’t have much luck with men. You used to think maybe the first one was just a fluke–that one high school boyfriend who didn’t know the first thing about tenderness and treated you like a friend more than a lover. But as the years went on and the faces changed–first dates, flings, those awkward two-month situationships that ended with unread messages or cold shoulders–it became harder and harder to ignore a simple, infuriating truth:
You attracted a certain type of guy, and unfortunately, that type of guy brought on heaps of trouble to you.
Rhett had told you as much–in different ways, tones, and situations.
”I can tell just by lookin’ at ‘em,” He’d mutter over his beer, eyes narrowed at whoever was looking at you, or whoever had come to pick you up from his ranch when you would hang out, “Ain’t no way that one’s gonna treat you right.” But you never listened to him. You had told him–and yourself–multiple times that he was just being overprotective, and looking too deeply into things.
But the truth was, he was right, you weren’t being treated right. Not even close.
In bed, it was glaringly worse. You didn’t come first–literally or metaphorically. The guys you saw acted like just showing up was enough, like their presence alone should’ve sent you spiraling into pure ecstasy–like you were supposed to be grateful that they were blessing you with the experience of having them between your legs.
You definitely weren’t. Not even once.
You could actually count on one hand how many times you’d almost felt an orgasm building. And the only time someone even offered to go down on you–and even then, he was half-assing the job, and made it feel like a formality rather than something he actually wanted to do. You barely felt his mouth. But you pretended it was good, just so it wouldn’t be another disappointment.
For a long time, you thought maybe something was wrong with you, that maybe your body was broken or maybe you were just one of those people who didn’t get much pleasure from these types of things and needed simpler acts to truly experience something even close to sexual pleasure. So. You stopped trying, stopped dating, and stopped chasing what felt more like punishment than passion.
And within the quiet that followed your dating celibacy, you had found yourself spending more time with Rhett.
Neither of you were truly close with each other before that.
Sure, you’d gone to the same high school, crossed paths in hallways, shared the occasional class where you’d borrow a pencil or flash him a smirk when he got caught nodding off mid-lecture. But he ran with the rodeo kids, and you–well, you drifted between circles, kept mostly to yourself, caught up in extracurriculars and jobs and the kind of boys Rhett always ended up warning you about years later.
It wasn’t until a spur-of-the-moment decision–one boring Friday and a reckless text to your old classmate–that you ended up at one of his circuits. You hadn’t seen him ride since high school, and you figured, why not?
You didn’t expect much.
But then you saw him in the dirt and the dust, bronzed under the stadium lights, laughing with his hat tipped back and his knuckles split open. And something shifted.
You stayed longer than you meant to that night. Helped him limp back to his truck. Got late-night fries together. Talked about everything and nothing, just like people who didn’t know yet that they were about to become each other’s person.
After that, it became a routine. A quiet, natural rhythm. The two of you set aside one day a week for bar hopping–usually Tuesdays, when the crowds were thin and the drinks were cheap. But when you gave up on dating for a while, something in that rhythm expanded.
You weren’t just hanging out once a week anymore. You were showing up at circuits again, slapping the rusted fence rails as he rode past, grinning like you were seventeen again and seeing him for the first time. You started meeting his friends. Familiarized yourself with his family again–Amy’s quiet greetings, Perry’s tired but kind nods, Cecilia’s slightly surprised but not unwelcome smiles when you appeared in their kitchen one Sunday morning, still rubbing sleep from your eyes in Rhett’s oversized hoodie, and Royal’s glares that he shot at Rhett.
You became a fixture in his life. A known presence.
Especially after long nights of drinking, where you’d inevitably end up back at his place, curled up on his bed groaning because a headache was already brewing.
And with that bond that grew came something that bloomed slowly but powerfully: his protectiveness.
It had always been there–coiled beneath the surface, stitched into the way he watched you, waited for you, walked you to your door even when he was half-asleep himself. But when he started to piece together the kind of experiences you’d had–the disappointments, the lack of care, the way men made you feel like an afterthought–it shifted.
It changed the way he looked at you. Like you were fragile, but not weak. Like he wanted to wrap his hands around every bad memory and crush it.
He never said much when you opened up about it. Didn’t need to. The silence was heavy enough.
”You don’t deserve that,” He said once, soft as gravel, not looking at you. It had hit you harder than you expected. Not because of the words–but because of how he said them.
When you broke it to him that you were taking a break from dating, he didn’t even hesitate before saying “Me too.” You hadn’t expected that. You had laughed, asked him why– saying you’re Rhett Abbott, don’t you have girls throwing themselves at you every other week?–but he just shrugged, scratched the back of his neck, and muttered something about solidarity.
What you didn’t know though was that Rhett Abbott was relieved by this news.
It meant peace. No more stepping in between you and men who didn’t deserve to speak your name. No more black eyes or busted knuckles or security dragging him out of bars with the same tired “Abbott, we warned you.” No more cold rage coiled in his chest when you came to him with a new dating story.
But more than all of that–it meant he had more of your time again, and that you were his once more.
Not in the traditional sense. But in the quiet, easy way where he got to have you beside him. In his truck. At his kitchen table. Laughing on his porch. Falling asleep in his living room. Talking to him about things you didn’t tell anyone else.
He got to watch you laugh with his family. Got to listen to you hum in the passenger seat. Got to see you when you weren’t trying anymore–when you were just being you.
And lately, Rhett had been thinking about things. Dangerous things.
About what it would feel like to be the one to show you what good could be. About how his hands would never treat you like an obligation. About how he’d never rush you, never expect anything, never make you fake a damn thing.
He’d been thinking about you in ways he shouldn’t. Imagining things he wasn’t proud of. But he never said it. Never crossed that line.
Not until you did.
——————————
The bar was louder than usual, the kind of noise that sank into your bones, all thudding boots and clinking glasses and low country twang pouring from speakers that surrounded the walls of the drinking areas. You and Rhett were squished together in a booth that barely had enough space for one of his thighs, let alone two. He was pressed against your side, the warmth of his arm brushing yours every time either of you reached for the second pitcher of beer you’d ordered.
You’d been sipping slowly at first–well, pretending to–but somewhere between your third and fourth shared laugh, the drinks started going down faster. Something about being shoulder-to-shoulder with Rhett always loosened you up. Maybe it was the way he leaned in when he talked. Or the way his voice dropped just slightly in the middle of a crowd, like everything else was just noise unless you were listening.
By the time the second pitcher was empty, your head was spinning, your cheeks hot, and Rhett was nudging you with his knee.
“Guessin’ it’s time we call Perry?”He suggested, raising an eyebrow and pushing his light brown hair out of his face. You groaned.
”Can’t we just sleep in your truck?” And he let out a small laugh, shaking his head slowly.
”You’re too pretty to get eaten by coyotes, sweetheart. C’mon, I’m sure my place is more comfy than the leather seats of the truck.” He teased, as he pulled out his phone.
You both slurred your way through the call–Rhett taking the lead while you giggled beside him, repeating his name like a chant until Perry muttered, “Jesus Christ, I’m on my way.”
The drive back to the ranch was a blur. You’d nodded off on Rhett’s shoulder. He smelled like leather and dust and whatever cologne he always swiped across his throat before circuits. He didn’t say much on the way home, but his hand never left your thigh–more because in his drunken stupor, all he wanted to do was feel your skin against his, even if it was seen as an accident.
When Perry’s truck pulled up to the house, it was as if your bodies had already memorized the path inside.
You and Rhett stumbled up the steps, bumping into one another in the narrow hallway, muffling your laughter behind lazy hands and hushed voices. His hand settled low on your back, fingertips resting just under the hem of your top, warm and heavy with quiet intention–though he played it off like it was nothing. Like he always did.
His legs bumped into the frame of the hallway table and he cursed softly, grabbing onto your arm to steady himself.
“Shh,” You whispered, glancing behind you, “You’re gonna wake your parents.” He waved his hand.
”It’s okay,” He murmured, his breath brushing your hair slightly, “I’m sure they’re used to it by now.” You reached his room like it was second nature–your bodies moving together in a practiced rhythm, like you’d done this dance before. And you had, in bits and pieces. Just not like this. Not with this kind of tension buzzing just beneath your skin.
You practically fell through the doorway first, catching yourself on the edge of his bed with a half-giggled groan. Rhett followed close behind, his shoulder knocking lightly into the doorframe before he caught himself and dragged it shut behind him with a soft click.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the pale moonlight bleeding in through the slatted blinds. Familiar shadows painted across the floorboards and the messy sprawl of his clothes on the chair. The scent of him clung to the room–warm skin, worn flannel, the faint tang of sawdust and leather.
You kicked off your boots, one thudding softly against the wall, the other tumbling onto its side. He mirrored your movements, stepping out of his own boots with less precision, letting out a groan of relief as he did so. You tossed your clutch onto the side table–just beside the lamp he never used–and sank onto the edge of his bed with a quiet sigh.
“Here,” Rhett said, reaching for the top drawer of his dresser, “Take these.” He tossed a soft, well-worn T-shirt your way–gray with faded black lettering you didn’t bother reading–and a pair of boxer shorts that still held the shape of his body in their fabric. You caught them against your chest, fingers curling over the cotton, the residual warmth of his drawer somehow sinking into your skin.
”I’m gonna go grab some water,” He added, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice low, but clearer now–more focused, or sobered up, “You get changed.”
Then he disappeared down the hall, the sound of his footsteps padding softly away as the door swung gently shut behind him.
You sat in the quiet for a moment, the distant hum of the house settling around you. Your pulse felt louder than it should’ve. Your fingers trembled slightly as you peeled off your tank top, the material catching on your shoulder before slipping free. You dropped it beside your clutch, then shimmied out of your jean shorts–tight and damp from the heat of the night, catching slightly on your thighs before falling to the floor.
The air kissed your bare skin, cool in contrast to the heat that had begun to build in your chest.
You tugged Rhett’s shirt over your head. It was too big, the hem falling just below your hips, the neckline gaping enough that the slope of your collarbone peeked out. You ran your fingers down the faded cotton, breathing in the faint scent of him lingering in the fabric–clean, woodsy, unmistakably him.
The boxers came next, soft and worn from a thousand washes. You slid them up your legs, the waistband resting low on your hips, baggy and comfortable in a way that made you feel small and safe all at once. You folded your other clothes neatly into a pile beside the bed, then sat back on the mattress just as the door creaked open again.
Rhett stepped in with two glasses of water, his knuckles curled tightly around the rims to keep them steady.
He paused when he saw you.
There was nothing particularly sexy about it, nothing overt or posed. Just you sitting on the edge of his bed in his boxers and his old shirt, legs bare, hair a little messy, your lips parted slightly as you took in a few deep breaths from the buzzing that tingled over your skin, and the shift in energy that floated through the room.
But something in his expression changed. His jaw flexed, and his eyes softened–the tension in his brow melting away the more he looked at you.
”Got you some water,” His voice was quieter now, more rough. You reached for one of the glasses, your fingers brushing his as you took it, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
”Thanks.” You took a sip of the water, the coolness of it sliding down your throat and settling somewhere just above your ribs. You sighed through the swallow, then leaned back slightly on one hand, blinking slowly at the ceiling as your head gave the first warning pulses of what would no doubt be a brutal morning.
“Jesus,” You muttered, placing the glass on the floor beside the bed, “I can tell I’m gonna have such a bad hangover in the morning…My head is already pounding.” Rhett hummed in agreement, moving toward his dresser again.
”Wouldn’t doubt it,” He mumbled, “I feel it too.” You watched him open the top drawer, his back partially turned to you. He didn’t say anything else–just reached in for another t-shirt. Then, without warning or hesitation, he grabbed the collar of the one he was wearing and tugged it off in one smooth motion.
And just like that, your breath caught.
You’d seen Rhett shirtless before. Once, maybe twice–at the lake, when his whole family had piled into trucks and driven down with coolers and towels and floating chairs. But those times had been quick, and you’d always looked away out of caution. Too many watchful eyes, too much risk of your gaze being caught. Too much danger in what you might feel if you stared too long.
But now?
Now there was no one watching.
No one except him.
And he wasn’t looking at you.
He stood a few feet from the bed, half in shadow, and your eyes swept over the length of his bare back, over the slow rise and fall of his shoulders, the slight arch of his spine as he leaned forward into the drawer. You barely breathed.
His skin was pale where the sun hadn’t kissed it, but scattered across his chest and along his ribs were bruises–real ones. Deep and blooming like brushstrokes of ink and wine. Purple that melted into faded yellow. Green along the edges. Some were new, still fresh and angry. Others had already begun to fade, ghosting into the gentle gold of healing. They streaked across his ribs in uneven patterns, coiling beneath the planes of lean muscle, dipping into the shadows of his collarbones and clinging to his hips like the remnants of a war.
It was violent. And somehow, beautiful.
Because it was him.
It was the proof of everything he did, everything he gave. The risk. The pain. The stubborn pride that kept him getting back on the bull even after it had thrown him into the dirt. You’d heard the groans he swallowed, watched him limp back to the chute with blood on his jeans and dirt on his teeth, but you hadn’t seen this. Not up close.
Not in the quiet.
Your eyes traced the line of one particularly stark bruise that stretched from the edge of his left pectoral down to his ribs. The skin there was darker, tight. Raw. And still, your gaze followed it like your fingers wanted to.
And God the urge to touch him was burning through you.
You wanted to trace every edge, every mark, every scrape and wound. You wanted to know if his skin was as warm as it looked. If his chest would rise faster beneath your palm. If he’d shiver when you pressed your lips to that bruise just below his ribs.
Your thighs pressed together slightly, feeling your stomach tighten as you began to flush under the confines of your own thoughts.
Rhett tugged the fresh shirt over his head and ran a hand through his light brown hair, slicking it back out of his face before finally turning back to you. His eyes flicked up–just for a second–and he caught your transfixed gaze.
“You okay?” He asked softly, voice thick. You cleared your throat, heat climbing up your neck as you dropped your gaze for a moment, pretending you hadn’t just been caught practically devouring him with your eyes.
“Yeah…Totally fine,” You muttered, fingers fumbling for the glass on the floor, bringing it back up to your lips. You took a long sip–longer than necessary–as if the coolness of it might extinguish the warmth that was flooding your chest. Or the way your thighs were still shifting together beneath his boxer shorts like they had a mind of their own.
Rhett didn’t move, and didn’t say anything for a second, his blue irises scanning over you for a moment, seeing the little movement that your thighs were making, a little tell that he had seen before from other women. He licked his lips slowly, like he could still taste your gaze on him. His voice dropped just a little as he said it–casual on the surface, but thick beneath. Heavy with the kind of tension that had been building between the two of you for months.
“You were starin’.” Your breath caught in your throat, and you looked down instinctively, the corner of your lip twitching with something between embarrassment and defense. Still, you shrugged like you could play it off.
“Well…It’s kind of hard not to when you’re all bruised up from the bull,” You murmured, trying to keep your tone light. “Didn’t know they were that bad.” He hummed at that–low and dry, like he didn’t quite believe your answer.
“You’ve seen ’em before,” He said, voice gravel-thick, head tipping slightly. “Shouldn’t be a surprise to you at this point.” You lifted your glass again to stall, sipped slower this time, letting the water cool the heat that was quickly rushing to your cheeks. Then you glanced at him again and gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“I think you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is, Rhett. I think the beer is getting to you.” That made something shift behind his eyes. He tilted his head a fraction, just enough to cast a slanted shadow along his cheekbone.
“Really now?” He murmured as he stepped closer, the floor creaking faintly beneath his weight. “You’re gonna tell me that I’m not seein’ straight?” He asked, pointing at himself. You nodded, your laugh shaky but still defiant.
”That’s exactly what I’m saying, Rhett.” He didn’t reply right away. He just stared down at you, long and quiet. Then, wordlessly, he stepped the rest of the way to the bed and placed his fist down–slowly, deliberately–on the mattress beside your thigh.
He didn’t touch you.
But the air between you shifted.
His knuckles were close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes followed the shape of his forearm, the way the muscles tensed beneath the skin, until they traced up to meet his face again.
You tilted your head up to look at him, and he was already there–already watching you.
His gaze locked with yours, blue eyes shadowed and steady, but flickering with something sharp, something knowing. Your stare skimmed over the details of his face–so close now, you could count the flecks of gold in his irises. The stubble along his jaw. The faint creases near the corners of his eyes that deepened when he laughed. The way his bottom lip jutted out just a little more than the top one, wet from where he’d just licked it.
“You’re a little liar,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a slow, crooked smirk. “I can see it in your eyes.”
The words hit low in your stomach.
You wanted to deny it–wanted to scoff, roll your eyes, tell him he was being ridiculous–but all you could do was hold his gaze and feel the heat crawling higher in your cheeks.
Still, you stayed composed. Barely.
“I think you need to sleep off your drunken stupor, Rhett,” You commented, chin tilting upward in subtle challenge. “You’ve got beer goggles on, and you really are seeing things now.”
He didn’t back off.
Instead, he leaned in closer. Slowly. Deliberately.
His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm and smelling faintly of beer and mint as it fanned over your lips. Your lashes fluttered, but you didn’t look away. You didn’t move. Not even when your breath caught slightly in your throat.
You just kept your eyes on him.
“…Guess I really do need some sleep,” He murmured after a beat, his voice quieter now. Rougher. But when he pulled back, he was grinning.
Cocky.
Like he knew you weren’t as unaffected as you were pretending to be.
Then he straightened, turned slightly toward the dresser again, and asked casually, “You stayin’ in the bed with me? Or you movin’ to the spare room?”
Your lashes fluttered quickly, and you swallowed hard before clearing your throat.
“I’ll stay here,” You said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though your entire body was still tense from how close he’d just been. “Probably won’t make it to the spare if I get up.” He nodded once, like that was the answer he expected, then reached for his belt buckle
“Alright,” He replied. You quickly looked away as his fingers moved to undo his belt, the subtle clink of the buckle sending another unwanted jolt of heat through your chest. Before your mind could wander any further–before you could accidentally lock eyes with the line of his hips or the way his thumb hooked into the waistband of his jeans–you padded toward the head of the bed.
You placed your water glass beside your clutch on the nightstand with a soft clink, keeping your movements slow, and controlled. Like that would help rein in the sudden buzz running beneath your skin.
The sheets were cool as you slipped under them, the scent of his laundry soap mingling with the lingering smell of him on the pillow. You shimmied slightly to get comfortable, dragging the duvet up to your waist and tucking one arm beneath your head, the other laid loosely across your stomach. You stared up at the ceiling.
Behind you, the sounds of him undressing were harder to ignore than you’d hoped.
A soft rustle of denim. The unmistakable swish of fabric sliding down over skin. A low breath–just a little ragged, like maybe even he was feeling the same pressure you were. You swallowed.
Then the mattress shifted.
He moved carefully, like he didn’t want to jostle you, but you felt him all the same. The bed dipped slightly with his weight, and the warmth of his body immediately spread beneath the covers, replacing the cold air you’d just tucked yourself into.
He settled on his side–close, but not touching. Or at least, not exactly. His arm stayed to himself, his shoulders turned slightly away, but your legs…Your legs brushed.
Bare skin to bare skin. Just barely.
You didn’t move. Neither did he.
The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. Not anymore. It was full of tension, sure–but there was something else in it too. Something gentle. Something known.
“G’night,” He murmured, voice low and sleepy, already starting to sink into the mattress.
You turned your head a little, just enough to look at the back of his shoulder, then whispered, “Night.”
Your eyes lingered there for a moment. On the curve of his neck, and the slow rise and fall of his breath.
And maybe you were imagining it–but his leg seemed to press a little firmer into yours.
A quiet, tentative contact.
And neither of you pulled away.
——————————
You woke up to your alarm going off like a goddamn air raid siren, the high-pitched chime echoing through the quiet room like it had been waiting to give you a heart attack.
Your eyes shot open.
A groan ripped from your throat as you reached blindly for your clutch, limbs still tangled in the sheets and your brain pulsing with a headache that had already staked its claim behind your eyes. The light from the phone screen stung, but you silenced the alarm with a few taps, your movements sluggish and mechanical.
From behind you, Rhett let out a muffled groan of his own.
“Who the hell sets an alarm on a Saturday?” He mumbled, voice gravelled and sleep-heavy.
You ignored the ache in your skull long enough to fish out the familiar blister pack from the depths of your clutch, thumb already popping the next pill loose. You brought it to your lips and dropped it onto your tongue, reaching lazily for the lukewarm water glass on the nightstand.
“It wasn’t to wake us up,” You muttered, taking a small sip and swallowing. “It’s my birth control reminder.” The bed shifted behind you. A soft rustle. A new weight.
“Birth control?” Rhett’s voice had sobered slightly, still low, but laced with something else now. Confusion, maybe.
You placed the glass back on the table and rolled onto your side, glancing over your shoulder–and promptly noted two things: one, he’d taken his shirt off during the night, and two, he was looking right at you.
His eyes were a little narrowed. Brow furrowed. His hair was a mess, and his voice hoarse.
“Yeah…Birth control,” You replied slowly, letting the words hang in the air as you watched his expression closely. “You know…The thing that women take to help their periods and prevent pregnancy?” He rolled his eyes, though the motion lacked bite.
You raised a brow. “So what’s with the third-degree, Abbott?”
He shrugged lazily and turned onto his back, his arm behind his head, jaw tight. “Didn’t think you were on it, that’s all. Never seen you take it before.”
You smirked. “Well, I’m usually out of your house by this time. Or I’m in the bathroom and take it there.”
And that was all it took.
That one sentence cracked something open in his chest and sent his thoughts freefalling.
You were on birth control.
The implications settled into him like wildfire. No condom. No consequences. Just skin to skin, you wrapped around him, begging, whispering–he could come inside you and not think twice, could bury himself so deep you’d feel it for hours. He could grab your hips and pull you down hard against him, his hands splayed over your stomach as he fucked you slow and steady until you were begging him to finish. No pulling out. No holding back. No guilt.
He wanted to kiss your thighs open, drag his tongue along your folds, taste every part of you while you whimpered into his pillow. He wanted to hear your breath hitch when he whispered let me do it right this time, to watch your expression when he sank in–slow and thick and deep–and told you how tight you were, how good you felt, how he’d dreamt of this.
He wanted to mark you up. Leave bruises on your neck, your hips, your thighs. Paint you with proof that someone finally gave a damn.
He’d be quiet about it, though. You’d both have to be quiet.
His parents were probably still in their room. Hell, Perry might be awake. So you’d press your mouth to his shoulder, muffle your moans against his skin, and Rhett would whisper filth in your ear with every lazy roll of his hips, voice ragged and barely restrained, telling you not to stop squeezing him like that. Not unless you wanted him to come right then and there.
His cock twitched against his thigh–sudden and sharp under the weight of his boxers.
Shit.
He shifted slightly under the blanket, adjusting himself, trying not to groan at how sensitive he suddenly felt. But the mattress wasn’t forgiving, and the movement wasn’t subtle.
“You alright?” Your voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. Curious. Careful. “You’re all red.”
He cleared his throat. A little too quickly.
“Mhm. I’m okay.”
You turned toward him more fully, propping yourself up slightly on one elbow, your hair flattened on one side from where you had slept on it. Your eyes narrowed, playful. Familiar.
And then–your voice softened to a whisper, full of teasing promise. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were staring at me.”
He blinked.
You were close. Too close. Your face inches from his, lips parted slightly, breath warm against his cheek. It mirrored what he’d done to you last night, except now the tables were turned–and he didn’t know what the hell to do with himself.
“I’m not,” He said quickly, voice cracking.
But you didn’t back off.
You just tilted your head slightly, and then–without meaning to–your thigh brushed his, and you felt something.
You stilled.
Your breath caught.
And your eyes went wide.
“…Oh,” You breathed, heat crawling up your neck.
“Sorry,” You whispered a second later, but your voice was breathy and full of implication.
Rhett swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at the ceiling. “It’s alright,” He said, quietly. Voice a little higher now. Tight.
The tension between you thickened like syrup, slow and sticky and impossible to ignore.
Neither of you looked at each other at first. It was safer that way. Eyes stayed on the ceiling, the far wall, anywhere but the quiet place in the middle of the bed where everything had shifted. Where your thighs had brushed, where your breath had caught, where Rhett was still hard and trying to will himself down with a silent prayer and clenched jaw.
But then you shifted again.
Not a lot. Just enough that the blankets rustled and your voice came out–low, almost shy.
“Do…Do you want some help with that?”
His eyes snapped to you like a whip. His entire body went rigid.
“W-What?” The word cracked in the middle, like it hit the back of his throat too fast to smooth out. His brows pinched together, mouth parted, lips dry as hell.
You sighed–soft and nervous–and pushed yourself up a little more, bracing your weight on your elbow so you could look him in the eye.
“I said,” You repeated, quieter now, more deliberate, “Do you want some help with that?” Rhett sat up a little too–mirroring you without realizing it, like his body needed to be closer. His face hovered just inches from yours now, the tension rolling off him like heat off pavement.
“Are you bein’ serious?” He asked, voice hoarse.
You nodded slowly, searching his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
His gaze darted away for the briefest second, scanning the room like it might offer him a better answer than the one sitting right in front of him. But when he looked back, his expression was tight. Unreadable. Barely holding something back.
“Well, I mean…We’re friends…”
You raised your brows, your face still close, voice low but firm. “And we haven’t really been going out with other people. And sexual frustration is a thing, Rhett.”
He squinted slightly, more in thought than judgment. “You’re the one that said you wanted to take a hiatus from dating and stuff. I thought that meant physical things too.”
You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That was more meant for me because I really don’t feel much when…Y’know…Things are happening.”
Rhett stilled.
His lips parted just slightly, his breath hitching. Then his jaw flexed and he leaned in even closer, until the space between your mouths was damn near nonexistent.
“You what?” He asked, barely above a whisper. His voice sounded gutted–like it hurt him to even imagine it.
You swallowed thickly, heart rattling inside your chest. “I…I don’t feel much when I’m being intimate with someone.” There. It was out. A truth you rarely admitted out loud, even more rarely to a man.
Rhett’s jaw tensed. His throat bobbed. Something wild flickered in his eyes–something that looked a lot like heartbreak, but deeper. Protective. Personal.
“…How about I make you a deal,” He said suddenly, his voice husky and serious.
You tilted your head slightly, cautious. “What kind of deal?”
“Let me try somethin’,” He murmured, watching your expression with unshakable intensity. “And then you can do whatever you want to me after. Or nothin’ at all. You don’t owe me a thing.”
Your lips parted. “W-What do you want to do?” He reached up slowly–like he was afraid to spook you–and let his fingertips brush beneath your chin, giving you the softest touch he could with the calloused pads of his fingers.
”Lay back,” He whispered, “And I’ll show you.” You stared at him for one long, charged heartbeat–your skin prickling, your thighs already pressing closer, the ache in your core blooming slow and warm at the tone in his voice.
Your face burned as soon as the word left your lips.
“Okay.”
It was soft, nearly swallowed by the quiet tension in the room–but Rhett heard it. His eyes didn’t leave yours. Not for a second. His hand drifted from your chin to your shoulder, then eased you gently back onto the pillow. The mattress dipped beneath the shift of your weight, the sheets cool against your skin–but Rhett’s hand never stopped touching you. He moved with patience. With care.
And then he did something unexpected.
He slipped his arm under your neck���not in a way that caged you in, but cradled you. Like he wanted to hold your head up, protect it. His fingers curled gently into your hair, and his thumb brushed over your cheek. Slowly.
His voice came next, low and laced with something close to a smile.
“Remember that time…In high school, when we ended up kissing in Marley’s closet during seven minutes in heaven?”
Your stomach flipped violently, a swarm of butterflies bursting awake.
You narrowed your eyes. “You said you’d never bring that up.”
He chuckled, soft and rough. “It’s been long enough that I think I’m allowed to bring it up.” His thumb grazed your cheek again, and you swore it soothed something in you you hadn’t known was wound tight. “But anyways…Remember when you said you were nervous? Because you didn’t know what to do?”
You nodded slowly, your voice nearly a whisper. “Yeah…”
“And I told you to just breathe. Don’t even think about what was happenin’. Just breathe.” Your lips parted a little, your heart thudding louder.
“Yeah,” You whispered again.
His gaze held yours, warm and steady. “Well… Just do that again, alright? Just breathe. Think about something else. Got it?”
You hesitated. Swallowed.
“Rhett…Are you sure you want to do this? It’s going to be a waste of your time.” Your voice cracked near the end, thick with embarrassment and doubt you’d carried for too long.
His expression shifted. Not angry. Just…Struck.
He leaned down slowly, and before you could say anything else–before you could panic or second-guess–he kissed you.
It was soft. Just lips brushing lips. But it stunned you all the same.
You gasped faintly into the contact, breath hitching, body going still under the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours. He lingered for only a second before pulling back, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours again.
“I’m positive,” He murmured, voice low and resolute. “Now just relax, okay?” You nodded, even though your heart was pounding. You let your hands rest by your sides, fists curled lightly in the sheets as Rhett shifted closer, keeping his arm under your neck, still holding you, still touching your cheek.
His other hand drifted down. Slow.
He didn’t go for the obvious. Didn’t grab. Didn’t grope. Instead, his fingertips brushed along the hem of the shirt you wore–his shirt–lifting it just a few inches before slipping beneath. You shivered instantly, the cool air meeting your heated skin, and then–
His fingertips touched your stomach.
Barely there. Like the ghost of a thought.
They dragged gently across your skin, dipping just beneath your ribs, pausing, then continuing downward. Featherlight. Reverent. You sucked in a breath as goosebumps erupted along your arms and legs, your thighs pressing closer together as he traced the soft curve of your waist with maddening patience.
“Still alright?” He asked, his voice low, lips brushing your temple now. You nodded quickly, breath stuttering. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
His hand moved again–back up first, over the flat of your stomach, the pads of his fingers gliding like silk. He circled your navel once, slow and hypnotic, then dropped lower again.
And lower.
Until he reached the waistband of the boxer shorts.
His fingertips paused there, resting lightly on the elastic band.
He kissed your temple. Then murmured against your skin: “Can you lift your hips for me?”
You did–slowly, your legs tensing slightly as you pushed up just enough. Your breath hitched as the cool air rushed between the fabric and your skin when Rhett tugged them down, slow and smooth, watching your face the entire time. Your body sank back down onto the mattress as he pulled the boxers down your thighs, past your knees, until they slipped off entirely.
Rhett paused for just a second, the boxer shorts now discarded somewhere at the foot of the bed, the room still and warm as his gaze settled on you—completely bare in the soft hush of the early morning light.
His eyes traveled up your legs, over the subtle dip of your hips, and down again to the place between your thighs–and the air left his lungs like he’d taken a punch to the gut.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of it. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes still locked with his, every inch of you humming beneath the heat of his gaze. The sincerity in his tone–thick, reverent, gutted–made your breath catch.
Then, slowly, Rhett reached out. One of his hands cradled your knee, coaxing your leg outward, and he shifted down the bed as he gently murmured, “Spread your legs for me, Y/N.”
Your heart thudded. You hesitated—but only for a beat. Then, you nodded, slowly letting your legs fall open, nerves twisting in your stomach like warm thread as cool air hit you, followed almost immediately by the heat of his body slotting between your thighs.
His skin was warm against the inside of your legs—his shoulders wide and strong, his bare chest brushing the backs of your thighs as he settled in. You saw his eyes trail up your body again—slow, careful, like he was trying to memorize you. Then he looked up.
You’d closed your eyes.
Breathing slowly. Deeply.
Trying not to shake.
“Hey,” Rhett said softly, and you felt the mattress shift as he reached for you. His hand found yours where it lay clenched beside your hip. He interlaced his fingers with yours carefully and held on tight.
Your eyes fluttered open just as he leaned forward–and kissed the inside of your thigh.
A soft press. Then another. And another. Working slowly upward, like every inch of your skin deserved a proper hello. His breath was warm, his mouth even warmer, and every brush of his lips sent a new wave of heat coiling through your stomach.
By the time his mouth reached the top of your thigh, you were barely breathing.
Then–he tilted his head.
And he kissed you right against your core, and your whole body jerked.
Your hips twitched against the bed, your hand tightening in his, a quiet gasp slipping out of your mouth. His tongue traced a slow, deliberate line through your folds–like he was savoring you already. Like he was trying to learn what made you shake.
He kissed you again. Then again. Languid, like he wasn’t in any hurry. Like this wasn’t something to get over with–it was something to cherish.
His tongue moved with devastating patience, lapping and sucking gently, drawing shapes that made your thighs clench around his head. His hand gripped yours tighter.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, the words barely audible. Your back arched slightly, and you felt Rhett moan into you—actually moan—like your pleasure was feeding his. The vibration of it sent another jolt of electricity straight through your spine.
Then—his mouth didn’t leave—but you felt his fingers press gently against your entrance. He didn’t push in right away. Just teased. Traced. His tongue circled your clit once more—slow and wet—and then his finger slipped inside.
Your breath hitched, a sharp little gasp escaping you as your hips rocked upward without thinking.
Rhett stopped instantly, lifting his head slightly. His mouth was shining.
“You alright?” he asked gently, his voice low and rough and just a little breathless.
You looked down at him with wide, wild eyes and nodded quickly. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice cracking with need. “Oh my god, Rhett…yes.”
His mouth pulled into a crooked smile, his eyes still locked on yours. “Feel somethin’ now?” he murmured, teasing, affectionate.
You reached out and threaded your free hand through his hair–fisting it lightly at the crown, your hips rising up just slightly. “It’s witchcraft,” You whispered shakily, overwhelmed and already trembling.
Rhett laughed quietly, the sound sending shivers across your skin. “Nah,” He said, leaning in again, voice warm and sinful against your core. “It’s actually just me wantin’ to feel you come on my tongue, sweetheart.”
And then he dove back in.
This time, with more pressure. More hunger.
His tongue flattened against your clit, slow and firm. His finger curled inside you—and then he added another, stretching you just enough to make your breath come in shallow, frantic bursts. His pace increased, mouth and fingers working in tandem—sensual, focused, a little rough now.
Your thighs began to shake.
Your hips lifted and he pressed his arm across your waist to pin you gently down, grounding you while he devoured you like a man starved.
The noises he made—low, greedy groans—only made the tension build faster. Like your pleasure was his. Like getting you to break apart in his mouth was the only thing he cared about.
“Rhett,” You whimpered, barely able to breathe.
And then–he curled his fingers just right.
Your whole body seized. You let out a strangled moan, your mouth falling open against the pillow, your hand clutching his hair, the other tightening in his grip so hard you felt the tremor run down his arm.
Your orgasm hit like a freight train. Sudden, shaking, relentless. Your thighs clamped around his head and your hips bucked up into his mouth–and he didn’t stop. Not for a second.
He kept licking, groaning against you, working you through every last second until your legs twitched and your body slumped, utterly spent.
When he finally lifted his head, his lips were swollen, his chin slick. He looked completely wrecked–and proud of it.
His hand slipped out from between your legs, fingers soaked with your arousal as he licked them clean, before brushing his wet fingers against your trembling thigh. You were still panting, still half-blind with aftershocks. And he leaned over you again, eyes wild but soft.
”You alright, darlin’?” He asked, bringing his mouth to your cheek. You laughed–half a breath, half a sob–and nodded.
”Fuck, Rhett…Let me try and return the favour please…That was so fucking good.” He blinked down at you like he hadn’t expected it, like your voice alone could unravel him all over again. Then he let out a slow, ragged breath and leaned down, kissing you–soft, slow, indulgent. A thank you, a yes, a prayer.
“Okay,” He murmured against your lips, voice husky, “Yeah…okay.”
He eased onto his back beside you. The sheets shifted around you both as you rolled onto your side and slid your hand across his stomach, your fingertips brushing the light trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers.
He watched you carefully, gaze gentle but burning. “You don’t have to, you know,” he said softly. “You already gave me enough just by lettin’ me–”
“I want to,” You cut in, voice quiet but certain. That stopped him. His jaw flexed slightly, his breath caught, and his hand reached up to cup the side of your face for just a second–his thumb brushing your cheek in a quiet, gentle pass. You kissed him again before shifting down the bed, your heart pounding as your thighs pressed together beneath the oversized shirt. You settled between his legs, your hands sliding up the tops of his thighs as he let out a low, shaky exhale. His skin was warm and soft beneath your palms, his muscles tense beneath the surface.
You hesitated just a little, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.
Rhett’s hand came down gently, resting over yours. His voice was low, coaxing.
“Go ahead, sweetheart. You’re doin’ fine.”
You pulled the fabric down slowly, watching as his cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already hard from the weight of everything he’d just felt and everything you were about to do. You swallowed nervously, staring for a second too long.
Rhett noticed.
“Here,” he said softly, sitting up just slightly. He wrapped his hand around himself first, guiding yours over his. “Just like this. Nice and slow.” His fingers slid away, letting yours take over, his breath catching the second you squeezed him.
You started slow, pumping gently from the base to the tip. The skin was hot under your palm, smooth and taut, and you watched in fascination as he twitched beneath your touch. His head dropped back onto the pillow with a thud, a low groan tumbling from his throat.
“Yeah,” he breathed, “That’s it. Just like that.”
You tightened your grip a little, experimenting, and Rhett’s hips lifted off the bed slightly. He let out a quiet, broken moan. “Fuck, darlin’–you’re already drivin’ me crazy.”
Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned forward, licking a slow, uncertain stripe up the underside of his shaft. He hissed between his teeth, his hand flying to your hair, not pushing–just holding. Anchoring.
“You sure?” He asked, voice tight.
You nodded, lips brushing the tip. “I’m sure.”
Then you took him into your mouth.
Just the head at first–soft and careful. The taste was salty and clean, a little musky, faintly bitter, but not bad. Just…Him.
You swirled your tongue around the tip, feeling his thighs tense under your hands, and then took him a little deeper, bobbing your head slowly, finding a rhythm.
Rhett cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in your hair.
“Jesus, Y/N,” He rasped. “You feel so good…So fuckin’ good.”
You kept going, learning by the way he moaned, by how his legs twitched, by the way he tugged at the sheets. You tried to take him deeper–and gagged, just slightly, your throat tightening around him. You pulled off, coughing softly, lips slick and eyes watering.
Rhett sat up a little too fast.
“Hey, hey–Y/N, you don’t have to do that,” He murmured, pushing your hair back, “Take it easy on yourself, alright? You ain’t gotta prove anythin’.”
You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m okay,” You whispered, voice breathy but determined.
And then you went back down.
This time slower. More confident. You pumped with one hand and sucked gently, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. Rhett’s breath went ragged again, his voice wrecked.
“Fuck, you’re–goddamn, you’re so good at this,” He groaned, hips twitching against your hand.
It didn’t take long after that.
You felt his thighs start to tremble, the hand in your hair tightening as he gasped, “Shit–I’m gonna come–“ It was more of a warning than anything, but you didn’t pull away. You just kept going.
His climax hit with a low, drawn-out moan. His hips stuttered and you felt his warmth spill over your tongue–salty, thick, slightly bitter with a sharp edge that made your throat clench. You swallowed instinctively, slow, letting it slide down, feeling him shudder beneath you.
When you pulled off, your lips were slick, your eyes glassy.
You licked your lips once and blinked up at him.
“…Did I do good?” You asked softly.
Rhett stared at you like he was about to lose his goddamn mind.
Then he sat up, grabbed your face with both hands–his touch tender but firm–and kissed you, slow and deep, his tongue massaging yours, tasting himself on you and you on him. He pulled back breathless.
”You were fucking perfect…So fucking perfect.” You collapsed back onto the mattress with a soft, stunned laugh, breath still coming in shaky waves as you wiped at your lips with the back of your hand. Rhett was beside you in a heartbeat, his strong arms already tugging you toward him like he couldn’t stand to have even an inch of space between you anymore.
You let him pull you into his chest–his skin still warm, heartbeat steady but strong beneath your cheek. His arm draped low over your waist, the other curling behind your shoulders like he was trying to wrap around as much of you as he could.
There was no tension now. No nerves. Just the quiet intimacy of skin on skin and breath against breath.
Rhett sighed softly into your hair, his mouth grazing your forehead before murmuring, lazy and fond, “We should do this more often…”
You let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle against his collarbone, your voice soft. “Yeah… I completely agree.”
There was a pause. The kind that felt full–not empty. Like something was waiting behind it.
You lifted your hand slowly, tracing a fingertip along his chest without looking at him. Then, voice smaller, more vulnerable:”You’re so…Safe.” Rhett went still beneath you.
Not tense. Just…Quiet. Like your words had caught him off guard and gone somewhere deep.
Then he smirked–soft and slow, the kind of smile you’d only seen a handful of times before. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, barely more than a brush of lips against skin, but it made you shiver.
“We can do whatever you want together,” He murmured, his voice like warm honey. “I’ll help in any way I can.”
That–his reassurance, his promise–settled something in your chest. Something that had been unsettled for a long, long time.
You turned your head just enough to look at him. Your nose nudged his jaw, and your lips were still curved when you whispered “You really mean it?”
“Of course I do.” He said simply. You couldn’t help the smile that rose up then, soft and wide and honest. It spread slowly, uncontainable, tugging at your cheeks as your hand splayed over his chest and you cuddled in closer.
Rhett exhaled against your hair, one hand trailing up and down your back in soothing strokes.
“You know what?” You whispered, voice thick with something more than just affection now–something raw and real and aching to be spoken aloud. “I think this is the first time I’ve felt like…Maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe I’m not the broken one.”
His fingers stilled. Then tightened gently at your waist.
“It was never you,” He said, quiet but firm. “They just didn’t know how to do things.” Your eyes welled unexpectedly. But you didn’t look away.
And Rhett didn’t look away from you either–not even when you whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?” He asked.
“For…For showing me what it’s supposed to feel like.”
Rhett’s brow creased slightly, and he leaned forward, brushing his lips against your forehead again, like he was sealing the moment there.
Then, against your skin, he murmured, “Ain’t even gotten started yet, darlin’.”
————————
You and Rhett made an effort to see each other every other day after that morning.
It wasn’t always planned. Sometimes it was just a lazy drive that ended in a shared milkshake and quiet conversation. Other times it was louder–pool hall banter, bar games, him showing up at your place just to fix the damn sink he swore wasn’t level. But no matter what it started as, it always ended the same:
With your bodies pressed together. With your hands on his chest. With his lips parting against yours like he’d been starving all day.
The first time it happened again was at the drive-in.
You wore cutoff shorts and one of his flannels tied loose at your waist, and you didn’t even make it halfway through the previews before your legs found his lap. The movie faded behind you like static. His palm settled low on your back, and your mouth found his in the kind of kiss that made your teeth knock and your fingers curl in his shirt.
You didn’t even remember what was playing. All you remembered was the sound of your breathing turning into gasps when his hand slid between your thighs, his voice rough against your ear.
“You gonna let me feel how worked up you are already?”
You reached down, grabbed his wrist, and guided him to the apex of your thighs–slow, sure. His fingertips pressed against the damp heat soaking through your thin cotton panties, and Rhett exhaled like he’d been punched.
“Jesus,” He murmured, his forehead tipping against yours as his fingers flexed, just barely moving. “You’re soaked.”
You nodded, breath already hitching as you shifted slightly in his lap, grinding your hips forward just a touch. The thick muscle of his denim-clad thigh was already pressing against your core in the most devastating way.
“I wanna try something,” You whispered.
His eyes flicked up. Searching. Heated. Still trying to catch up with this version of you—bold, direct, knowing what you wanted and how you wanted it.
“I’ve always wanted to do it,” You admitted, your voice breathy but firm. “Especially with you.”
His lips parted. His chest rose.
And then he smirked.
“Okay,” He said simply. “You can do whatever you want with me.”
That’s all it took.
You adjusted your knees on either side of his lap, straddling him completely, your hands pressed to his shoulders for balance as you positioned yourself just right. His thigh was firm beneath you–years of riding and wrangling muscle. And you sank down onto it slowly, the seam of his jeans dragging perfectly against your soaked panties.
A quiet gasp escaped your throat.
Rhett groaned, hands rising to grip your hips–gentle, grounding, but not controlling. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles over your waist as he watched your eyes flutter, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“You good, sweetheart?” He murmured.
You nodded, barely able to breathe. “So good.”
You started slow. Grinding gently against him in small, slow circles–testing pressure, building friction. The thick denim created just enough resistance to drive you mad, the fabric catching on your clit with every pass.
You rolled your hips again. And again. Shakier each time.
Rhett’s grip tightened, guiding you just slightly–his hands molding to your curves like he was born to hold them. “That’s it,” He breathed, voice almost reverent. “Just like that… Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”
You whimpered, burying your face in his neck for a moment as the sensations built, wave after wave, hot and pulsing and slow. Your hands curled into the flannel on his chest, and you swore you could feel his heart hammering.
Then you pulled back just enough to kiss him.
Hard.
He groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, encouraging your movements, letting you use him–letting you take your pleasure from him like he wanted nothing more. Your hips began to rock faster, your thighs trembling, the damp patch growing darker on his jeans with every pass of your soaked panties.
“Fuck, darlin’,” He gasped, his forehead pressed to yours. “You’re gonna come just like this?”
You nodded, dizzy, breathless. “I can’t stop…Rhett–I’m gonna–”
He kissed you again–slow this time, anchoring you as your hips faltered and your whole body seized up.
You came on his thigh with a broken sob of his name, shaking hard against him, every nerve burning, clenching around nothing as your hips twitched one last time and stilled.
Rhett held you through it, murmuring sweet things against your temple as you slumped forward, boneless and buzzing.
“That was…” You panted, barely able to form a sentence.
“Yeah,” Rhett said, his own breath shaky as he kissed the side of your head. “It was fuckin’ perfect.”
From that moment on, it was like you couldn’t stop.
The next week, he was driving you home, windows cracked, your hand resting on his thigh like it was second nature now. And somewhere between a curve in the road and a long silence, you leaned over, unzipped his jeans, and slipped your hand inside.
He choked on a breath. “Jesus, Y/N–what are you doin’?”
“Helping,” You said, voice teasing and low as your fingers wrapped around him.
You stroked him slow, lazy, while he tried to keep his eyes on the road, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. When he came–hot and fast–you licked it off your hand and the skin of his stomach without hesitation.
Rhett nearly crashed the damn truck.
Another time, you just climbed into his lap without warning. No teasing. No warm-up. You just needed him–needed the weight of him, the heat of his mouth, the security of his hands cupping the back of your neck like if he let go, you’d vanish.
You kissed him like you were going to disappear if he didn’t hold you tighter.
And he did.
Every time, he did.
He was addicted to you.
And you were addicted to him.
Yet somehow, you still hadn’t had sex.
Not because you didn’t want to. But because you kept finishing each other off before either of you could think straight.
It was chaotic. It was messy. It was you and Rhett–tangled in passion, steeped in something deeper neither of you had put into words yet.
Until one quiet evening when the summer air hung low and warm, and you turned to him and said:
“Wanna look at the stars with me?”
He blinked. Smirked. “Like, right now?”
“Right now,” You said, already sliding your shoes on. “Bring pillows and a blanket for the truck bed.” Rhett raised a brow, slow and deliberate, the corner of his mouth curving into something crooked and full of knowing.
“Oh,” He drawled, slinging an arm around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “You’re plannin’ somethin’.”
You only grinned as you wiggled out of his arms, walking out ahead of him before calling over your shoulder:
“Damn right I am.”
———————————
You and Rhett had a specific place you would go to when you wanted to look at the stars.
It was a lookout you had both found randomly one night, years ago, when you’d gotten lost coming back from a circuit. The GPS cut out somewhere along a winding dirt road, and the two of you had been bickering about turns when the trees finally gave way to a clearing so wide and open it looked like the sky had cracked open just for you. The ridge overlooked a valley, endless and quiet, the stars so close it felt like you could pluck them from the sky if you reached high enough.
That was the place he drove to tonight.
His hand was on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, fingers skimming just beneath the hem of your shorts. The low hum of the truck’s engine mingled with an old country song playing through the speakers–something slow and warm, full of steel guitar and dusty longing. The cool summer air flowed through the open windows, tousling your hair, raising goosebumps on your arms. But Rhett’s palm was warm and steady against your skin, his thumb tracing little circles lazily.
You shifted slightly in your seat, thighs parting just a little more, and he immediately took notice.
His fingers drifted inward–just a little. Just enough to make your stomach clench.
Then he started tracing letters.
Soft. Slow. One at a time, with the very tip of his finger, like he was spelling a secret across your skin.
“What’s that one?” He murmured, not taking his eyes off the road.
You blinked. Swallowed. “Uh… An S?”
“Wrong,” He smirked, squeezing your thigh.
“An E?”
“Nope.”
You glanced at him, raising a brow. “Then what was it?”
“Not tellin’,” He said, dragging another letter right after it, slower this time. “Guess again.”
You stared down at his hand, heat blooming low in your belly. “D?”
“That one was,” He said, a low chuckle caught in his throat. “But not the one before it.”
Your cheeks burned. You knew what he was spelling now.
He leaned closer, his voice thick. “Want me to keep goin’?”
You nodded, breath hitching. “Yeah…Keep going.”
He traced another letter.
And another.
You were just about to reach for him–just about to say screw the stargazing and climb into his lap right there in the cab–when the headlights hit the edge of the clearing, and the trees broke apart.
You both went still.
The lookout was exactly how you remembered it: tall grass, wildflowers curling in the moonlight, and the stars above glowing like soft embers in an old fireplace. The valley stretched below, dark and quiet, and the only sound was the breeze rustling through the open windows and the soft creak of the truck tires crunching over gravel.
Rhett cut the engine.
The music died.
Silence swelled between you, not heavy–just full. Like both of you were thinking the same thing and neither of you wanted to ruin it by saying it out loud.
Then Rhett opened his door and climbed out. You followed, your legs shaky as you stepped onto the grass, the air cool against your thighs. The tension was still simmering in your veins, but now it had space to breathe.
You grabbed the first blanket from the backseat while Rhett grabbed the pillows and the top blanket.
The two of you worked in an unspoken rhythm.
You laid the first blanket down flat across the truck bed, smoothing the edges with your palms. The metal beneath was still faintly warm from the earlier sun. Rhett climbed in beside you, placing the pillows near the cab, his knee brushing yours as he tossed the second blanket over your shoulders.
You didn’t speak as you climbed under it together.
You didn’t have to.
His body curved naturally around yours as you settled onto your sides, facing each other, the warmth of the blanket sealed around your bodies like a cocoon. Your foreheads almost touched. Your breath did.
Rhett’s hand found your waist under the blanket. His palm spread slow and deliberate, thumb grazing your hip, before lazily dragging across your stomach, the pads of his fingers skimming your skin like he was reading a prayer written in braille. You reached up and brushed his hair back gently, smoothing the strands that always stuck up in crooked directions. He sighed—low, content, eyes fluttering shut like your touch alone could unravel him.
His fingers slipped higher beneath the hem of your shirt, slowly, carefully. He tugged it up until you sat up and peeled it over your head. The night air kissed your bare chest, nipples tightening instantly under the sudden exposure—but you weren’t cold. Not with the way Rhett looked at you.
He stared like he was witnessing something sacred.
Then he leaned forward, lips parting just enough to drag across your collarbone before his teeth sank in—not too hard, just enough to make you gasp.
“Painful?” he murmured against your skin.
You shook your head, your breath shaky. “Stings a bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”
He smirked—something soft and sinful—and lowered his mouth again, kissing just beneath the mark he’d left behind. His tongue laved the spot slowly, like an apology and a promise all at once.
Then, his voice was velvet-wrapped gravel against your skin.
“Is there anything else you want to do with me? Any ideas you’ve got in mind?”
You shook your head slowly, eyes locking with his in the low, starlit dark. “I just want you to fuck me.”
He stilled. Just for a beat. Then smiled against your chest—slow and deep and pleased.
“Yeah?” he rasped, lifting his head to look you in the eye. “You want me to fuck you?”
You nodded, your heart pounding.
He leaned toward your jaw, kissing a soft trail until his lips brushed your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “Beg for it.”
You bit your bottom lip, breath catching, heart stuttering at the sheer weight of the way he said it. There was no mocking in it. No arrogance. Just pure, overwhelming need–controlled only by the thin thread of his patience.
His eyes shimmered in the moonlight, pale blue burning like lightning behind clouds. You leaned in and kissed him–soft, needy–and whispered against his lips, “Please…Fuck me…”
He shook his head, grinning with that maddening, slow confidence. “Gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.” You kissed him again–more desperate now–and as you pulled back, his hand came up to your face. He cradled your cheek like you were breakable, his thumb tracing the soft curve of your bottom lip.
“Open up,” He murmured.
You obeyed.
Your lips parted, and he slid his thumb into your mouth, pressing the pad against the back of your tongue. Instantly, your mouth watered, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him gently. His eyes darkened, watching you like he could come undone just from this.
He pulled his thumb out slowly, a glistening trail connecting your lips to the pad of his finger, then dragged it down–past your chin, your chest–until it disappeared beneath the waistband of your shorts.
His soaked thumb found your clit in one perfect stroke.
You gasped. Bucked.
“C’mon, Y/N…” He coaxed, voice a rasp as he rubbed slow, tight circles. “You want it, right?”
“Yes,” You whimpered, your hips grinding helplessly into his hand. “God, Rhett–yes–please–I need you–”
He groaned at the sound of your voice, fucked-out and pleading, and pressed his thumb harder.
“Keep talkin’,” He muttered, eyes flicking down to where his hand moved beneath your waistband. “Want to hear you beg while I’ve got you all worked up like this.”
“I want you to fuck me,” You gasped, your palm reaching for his lap now, squeezing his cock through his jeans. He was already hard–thick and burning hot under your touch. “I want you inside me–I want to feel it, Rhett. All of you. I want you to ruin me slow.”
He swore under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”
You kept rubbing, palming him harder now, feeling him twitch and grow impossibly harder.
“I want you to come inside me,” You whispered, eyes glassy. “I want to feel you finish deep. I want you to fill me up until I’m sore. Until I’m dripping with it.”
Rhett’s jaw clenched, his breath shuddered–and his thumb didn’t stop moving. Every nerve in your body was locked on the delicious, unrelenting drag of his thumb over your clit–your underwear now utterly ruined, soaked straight through, clinging to your folds in the most humiliating, erotic way.
Rhett kissed you again–hotter this time. Sloppier. The kind of kiss that made your teeth knock and your breath catch. His tongue slid past your lips, curling against yours with growing desperation, and when he finally pulled back, he did so only far enough to breathe against your mouth:
“Take off your shorts,” He rasped, voice wrecked. “And get on top.”
You nodded so fast it almost hurt, fumbling to shimmy them down. Your panties peeled off with them, sticky and wet between your thighs. You didn’t even try to hide the way they dropped to the side of the bed. Not with the way Rhett was watching you. Not with how he was already ripping open his jeans and pushing them down with his boxers in one rough, desperate tug.
His cock sprang free, flushed and hard and leaking at the tip, the moonlight catching on the slick sheen of it.
Your whole body ached as you climbed into his lap and straddled his waist, your knees bracing against the warm metal bed of the truck, the soft blanket bunched beneath them. You sank down slightly–not to take him in just yet, but to rub your soaked core along the full length of him.
The heat of him–thick and pulsing against you–dragged across your folds, every ridge and vein grinding right where you needed it. You tilted your head back with a breathless moan, your hips moving in slow, teasing circles, coating him in your arousal.
“Fuck,” Rhett groaned, his hands flying to your hips, holding you there, letting you grind against him like he was made for it. His eyes trailed up your body, pupils blown wide, chest heaving. Then he reached up and cupped your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples.
“You look so fuckin’ beautiful up there,” He rasped, voice trembling with restraint. “You like that? Like rubbin’ yourself on me like a good girl?”
You nodded frantically, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. “Fuck, Rhett…You already feel so good. I can’t wait any longer.”
He gave your nipples a teasing pinch, and you nearly came undone right there.
“You don’t have to wait anymore,” He murmured, voice thick with care and gentleness. “Take what you need from me, Y/N.” You reached between your bodies, wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, and guided him through your folds once more–wet and slow–coating him thoroughly before lifting your hips.
Then you aligned him with your entrance, and with one long, shaky breath…You sank down.
The head of his cock stretched you open, dragging against your walls in a way that made your whole body lock up. Your gasp cracked through the night air as you grabbed onto his wrist with both hands, using it as leverage while your head tilted back and your mouth dropped open.
“Shit,” You whimpered, your voice trembling. “So big…”
“Fuck,” Rhett gritted out beneath you, his jaw tight, his knuckles white where he gripped your hips. “You’re tight, sweetheart…Jesus Christ, I can feel every part of you.” You kept lowering yourself slowly, inch by inch, your inner walls gripping him like a vice as you took him in deeper, stretching around his girth with a burn that made your eyes flutter.
“Rhett–” Your voice cracked, pleasure blooming slow and low in your belly, “–Feels so full… So deep…”
He looked absolutely wrecked beneath you. His head tipped back for a second, the cords of his neck flexing, jaw clenched as he tried not to buck up into you too soon. His hands left your hips only to return to your chest, massaging your breasts again with wide, reverent palms, his thumbs brushing your nipples in slow circles.
“God, you’re perfect,” He rasped, his voice shaking now. You whimpered again as you bottomed out, the base of him pressed flush against you, the stretch relentless. Your thighs were trembling already.
Then his hand came up–slow, gentle–and wrapped lightly around your neck.
Not choking. Not restraining.
Just holding you there, grounding you, letting his thumb graze your jawline.
“You okay?” He whispered.
You nodded, lips parted, barely able to get the words out. “So okay,” You breathed. “You feel so fucking good inside me, Rhett.”
He groaned again, like your words alone could push him over the edge. His fingers curled slightly around your neck, just enough pressure to make your walls flutter around him.
“That’s it,” He whispered, eyes burning into yours. “Take me. Use me. Fuckin’ ride me Y/N. I’m yours.” He watched you with something close to awe–his pupils wide, breath ragged as your hips rolled in that uneven, desperate rhythm, your thighs quivering from how much you were feeling, from the stretch and heat and weight of him pulsing deep inside you.
“Fuck, Y/N…” Rhett groaned, his voice strained and reverent, one of his hands gripping your hip as you moved. “You’re so fuckin’ tight like this…Every time you come back down, I feel your pussy clutch me like it doesn’t wanna let go.”
Your breath hitched.
You whimpered again, high and shaky, your hands splayed on his chest for balance as you tried to keep going, but your rhythm faltered, hips stuttering with every twitch of your muscles. Every drag of his cock against your inner walls made you cry out a little louder.
That’s when his hands slid lower.
“Let me show you somethin’,” Rhett murmured, voice gravel-smooth as he sat up slightly and wrapped both hands around your waist. His grip was firm but gentle, like he was grounding you–like he was giving you something to fall apart against.
He pulled your hips forward, grinding you down slow, dragging your clit along the thick patch of hair above his cock.
You gasped, your eyes flying wide, hands bracing hard against his shoulders.
“Jesus fucking Christ–Rhett,” You gasped, your head falling back as your thighs quaked around him. “Oh my fucking god–”
“That’s it,” he breathed, dragging you again, slower now, more deliberate. “Feel that? Right there? That’s where I want you. Grind on me, sweetheart. Just like that.”
Your whimpers melted into full-bodied moans as he kept your hips moving in that rhythm–circling and dragging until you were damn near sobbing against his mouth, your clit raw and throbbing with every glide across the coarse hair and the thick base of his cock.
He didn’t stop until he felt your hips start moving in sync on their own. He let his hands slip back up to your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your nipples again as you rocked into him like you were losing your mind.
“Good girl,” He groaned, voice deeper now. “Look at you. Fuckin’ perfect. Soaked for me…Riding me just the way I like.”
Your breath hitched, your hands tangling in his hair as he leaned in, kissing up your throat–sloppy, hungry, and hot.
Then–suddenly–he sat up fully, his hands grabbing your ass and pulling you closer, forcing you to stay pressed tight against him as his mouth found your neck.
He gripped your hair and yanked it gently, exposing the smooth column of your throat.
And he started kissing. Licking. Biting.
Not enough to hurt–just enough to make you whine.
“Bet none of those assholes ever touched you like this,” He growled into your neck, rutting up into you now–slow at first, but deep. “Bet none of ‘em knew how to fuck you right.”
You gasped as he hit that spot again, your nails digging into his shoulders. “They didn’t,” You whimpered. “Fuck, Rhett–they didn’t. You’re the only one who’s ever–”
“Damn right I am,” He snapped, his teeth grazing your throat. “You hear that? That’s what you sound like when someone actually gives a shit about makin’ you feel good.”
He slammed into you again, this time rougher–deep and hard and relentless–and your whole body jolted forward, your nails dragging down his back through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He groaned at the sting. “Mark me up, Y/N. Let me feel it.” You were crying out now, your rhythm breaking down into messy, frantic movements, grinding and bouncing as best you could with how hard he was gripping your waist, how deep he was rutting up into you.
“Gonna come, Rhett–fuck–I’m gonna–”
“Come for me,” He rasped, slamming into you harder. “Soak me. Make a goddamn mess, sweetheart.”
Your vision blurred.
Your body locked up.
And then everything broke open.
You screamed his name as your orgasm ripped through you–wet and loud and overwhelming. You trembled violently, your whole body twitching as you felt yourself gush around him, soaking his lap and thighs, your slick coating every inch of him.
“Goddamn,” Rhett growled, his breath breaking into ragged pants. “Fuck–Y/N, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight–shit, I’m gonna–”
Then his hands flew to your hips.
He slammed you down against him one final time, holding you there with a bruising grip, his voice guttural and feral as he cried out:
“Fuck, I’m gonna come inside you–fill you up–gonna stuff you full of it, darlin’, so you’ll still feel me dripping out of you tomorrow–Jesus Christ–”
You gasped as you felt it.
The twitch. The pulse. Every thick, hot rope of cum flooding you so deep it made you clench again. He buried himself as far as he could go, his hips bucking wildly against you as he spilled every last drop.
You scratched your nails down his back again–hard.
He didn’t stop you. If anything, he moaned louder.
“Fuck yes, baby. Just like that.”
You collapsed forward, breath shaking, your chest pressed to his, your bodies fused together–hot and slick and shaking.
And he held you.
Tight.
Like you were the only thing tethering him to this goddamn earth.
Neither of you spoke at first.
Just heavy breathing. Soft trembling. The sound of your heart pounding where it pressed against his.
Then–barely audible–Rhett whispered against your ear:
“Guess what I’m writing?” Your breath was still ragged. Shallow. The tremors hadn’t stopped yet, and your chest was still rising and falling in uneven waves as you lay sprawled over him, your body warm and slick against his, your heart pounding so hard you swore it was echoing in his chest too.
“…Okay,” You whispered hoarsely, your voice barely carrying above the rasp in your throat.
Rhett didn’t say anything at first. He just smiled. One of those slow, crooked, half-cocky ones he couldn’t control when he was too soft to be smug and too smitten to pretend he wasn’t.
Then you felt it.
The gentle press of his fingertip against your outer thigh–bare, slick with sweat and still trembling slightly from aftershocks.
He dragged a slow line into your skin.
“I,” You breathed, voice soft and cautious.
He nodded, the tip of his nose brushing your jaw as he traced another.
“L,” You murmured, and he smirked faintly.
“Yeah,” He whispered against your cheek, his lips grazing your skin.
You didn’t breathe as he drew the next one–round and smooth.
“O.”
Another nod. His smile grew, quiet and reverent, the kind he only ever gave you when you were laughing in his passenger seat or half-asleep in his flannel.
And then he traced the last letter. Angled. Sharp. Deliberate.
“V,” you whispered. And this time, you stilled.
You pulled back just enough to look down at him, your hands sliding up to cradle his face. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t hide. Just met your gaze with those wide, ocean-blue eyes–like he was terrified and relieved and stunned that he’d said it at all.
Your thumbs brushed the corners of his mouth, your fingers curling gently along his jaw.
And your smile–God, your smile–was soft and sure and finally at peace as you leaned in just close enough for him to hear you when you said:
“I love you too, Rhett.”
The air shifted.
He exhaled like he’d been holding it forever, his brows twitching with something emotional and overwhelmed, and then he leaned up, kissing you–soft and slow and messy with gratitude.
When he pulled back, his voice cracked.
“You’re so good, Y/N…”
You smiled again, barely able to speak as your hands continued to caress his cheeks, your fingertips memorizing every inch of him like a prayer.
“You’re perfect, Rhett,” You whispered. “I couldn’t have asked for a better person to be in my life.”
And this time–neither of you said anything after.
Because everything that needed to be said had already been written across your skin.
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cupcakefactory · 3 months ago
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Swimming lessons with Rafayel
Pure ass Rafayel fluff? YES PLEASE. I'm ovulating, this was nice to write, i need a soft gentle man to teach me how to swim thank you very much.
Pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Gender specific nicknames (Miss Bodyguard/Silly Girl/Missy), Fear of drowning, Rafayel is a little bit of a dick but we love him for it
WC; 1.1k
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“Rafayel..”
She fiddled with her fingers, avoiding his hypnotizing gaze as they stood in his studio together – they had been talking for days now about going on a date together once his latest painting was finished, and originally she had agreed and been exited about it.. until every single date idea Rafayel gave involved water, swimming in the ocean, going to an abandoned island (this involved a boat, and they’re track record for those was also horrible so it counted as water). Things you’d expect from a Lemurian, his life had been nothing but water before now, she had known that, and she would have been excited if it wasn’t for one small fact.
She couldn’t swim.
Sure, she should be able to, being a hunter and all, so she understood why Rafayel had never questioned it. A hunter should be able to survive in all conditions, rain or shine, land or sea – she had just managed to cheat her way through the tests, hiding in the background and making it through the water by thrashing her arms around. If anyone noticed, they didn’t comment; she passed the test, much to her and her family's surprise.
However, now wasn’t the time for nostalgia. She heard his paintbrush being set down, and hands that were softer than sand rested against her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his mismatched ones. They were stunning, she had easily gotten lost in them so many times, but now wasn’t the time for that – she saw his worries in them as she gulped, looking out the window towards the ocean that caused all her issues at that moment.
“I can’t go on those dates with you, Rafa.. I can’t swim.”
“That’s it, sweetie? You had me worried there for a moment!”
Her eyes snapped back to his, confusion evident in her gaze as he offered a lazy smirk and shrug. Picking up his paintbrush again before continuing the strokes on the canvas, his eyes focused more on that. He acted like it was nothing, like she hadn’t just confessed the biggest secret she had been keeping their whole relationship! Was it really not that big of a deal? But yet, all his date ideas had involved water!
“What do you mean ‘That’s it’, Rafayel, your Lemurian! I can’t swim!”
“So, Cutie? I'm Lemurian, I’ll just teach you.”
He said it so quickly, like it was second nature and painfully obvious to anyone who thought hard enough. A chuckle at the bewildered look on her face as he stood, stretching and motioning towards the painting with his head – looking over she saw it was completed, a real masterpiece, something that would stand out in the gallery.
“Oh.. Rafayel.. its..”
She felt his arms wrap around her body with a gentle sway and a hum – he smelled like the ocean, slightly salty and beyond pleasant. It was like home again, falling back against him as he chuckled, a kiss on her temple before he spun her to face him.
“Amazing? Brilliant? I know, I know, but most importantly, miss bodyguard, complete. Let us start those swimming lessons.”
-
It was cold on the beach, the wind playing with the water to make the atmosphere feel worse than it actually was. She shivered, eyes narrowing onto Rafayel, who jumped into the sea like it was nothing, and she guessed to him it was nothing.  He didn’t have to worry about death, nor did he have a reason to fear what was beyond the depth of the water – he had grown up there, he knew better than anyone what was a threat and what was a friend.
Her fatal flaw in this situation was reaching into the water to check the temperature, her fingers had barely skimmed the edges before she was pulled in – a grunt, panic, and way too much kicking followed as she tried and failed to keep her head above water. Certain Father Death was about to pay her a visit – this was it, she was going to die because Rafayel thought he’d be funny. Through her blind panic, she didn’t register his lips on hers, the soft touch barely there but giving her the ability the breathe underwater.
“Silly girl, you thought I’d let you die after I just got you back? Open your eyes.. I’ve got ya."
She did slowly, holding onto him like he was the only lifeline she had, letting her eyes adjust – slowly, the full ocean came into view. Colours she could only have dreamt of, fish and other marine mammals she had only ever read about filling her field of vision – and a small gasp as the realisation that they were in the ocean, breathing and experiencing this together. Of course, she knew the stories, that kissing a Lemurian would grant you the ability to breathe underwater – but ever the sceptical, she doubted the truth behind it, she’d have to test what other myths were correct now this one had all but been confirmed.
“Right, Cutie, you're gonna have to let go of me, y’know? I can’t teach ya if you’re stuck to me like an octopus.”
That fear came back, and he saw it before she even had a chance to open her mouth. He shook his head a little, just taking her hands in his and moving backwards, so she knew they were still connected, so she knew if this went bad, he was still there to save her. With a small smile of reassurance, he motioned to her legs
“Kick a little, get used to the water.”
She nodded, kicking back and letting what she only assumed were instincts to take over – it was fun, feeling like you were floating surrounded by the wildlife, how the outside world was muted and non-existent, how only she and he mattered right at this moment. Her kicks got more desperate, flicking little waves and splashes towards Rafayel, who all but tried to dodge as many as he could before pulling her back into his embrace.
“OkayOkay, maybe a little calmer this time? You’re not fighting a wanderer, you're just swimming.”
She nodded, and he let go, watching as she kicked just the right amount, moving a little without meaning to, and he took that as his cue, swimming backwards and dragging her along with him. The joy in her eyes was worth it, completely uncensored and pure because of what he was doing, because of the lesson he was teaching her. He waited a moment before letting her go, and watching as she finally swam alone – he couldn’t hide his smile as she turned towards him, that face he had loved in every lifetime breaking into a massive grin as he opened his arms and accepted her in.
“See, I knew you could do it, Missy.”
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Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated <3
Please don't use my work to train AI :(
Masterlist /Commissions /Request info is HERE
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babygirlwritessmut · 9 months ago
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♡︎ part3. first impression
・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader
・❥・ summary: first day university was almost a fail. the tension between you and Vi picked up the pace, for how long can you handle it?
・❥・ genre: smut + grumpy x sunshine
・❥・ word count: 2.3k
✎ warnings: 18+, masturbation, dom!vi, swearing, teasing, bullying
MINORS DNI!
RIDE ON ME masterlist
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the next morning, you were getting ready to go to the university. you put on a beautiful black skirt and thin black tights, then chose your favorite white shirt, which beautifully accentuated your curves. you packed everything you needed into your bag and took one last look in the mirror. elegant but also refined. first impressions are always important, and you wanted to show off your knowledge and the fact that you’re not boring - "I hope my outfit hints at that."
all morning, you tried to distract yourself from thoughts of Vi, of her pink hair and strong physique. you weren't ready to face her after last night's... conversation, so you got up earlier than planned and hoped she would still be asleep when you left. and that's exactly how it turned out.
on your way to the university, you mentally reviewed everything you knew, thinking that even answering one question from the lecturer would make a mark on the first day. since you didn't get a chance to have breakfast at your place, you stopped by a café near the campus, where some students were already chatting about professors and schedules. after ordering a coffee and a chocolate croissant, you took a seat by the window. the pace of the new city amazed you, back in your quiet town, there were never so many people out and about, hurrying to work or stuck in traffic in the early hours. it was surprising and motivating. the quiet buzz of the café brought you back to thoughts about studying and the first day, but something unpleasant interrupted your enjoyable breakfast - a familiar, irritating voice.
“yeah, that was seriously hot, I think she's in love with me!” - it was Kate with her friends. "can I have one moment of peace?"
“yeah, she's so hot, this time she'll definitely ask me out on a date,” - you couldn't help but snort with laughter, watching her telling her friends these silly stories.
"wait, why is everyone suddenly quiet? and why is everyone looking at me?"
“do you have a problem, or is your croissant cracking jokes?” - Kate started walking towards you with her entourage. she was very elegantly dressed, -  "I think her shoes were from a very expensive brand, just like her bag and a dress... she has a taste."
“um, no, no problem, it's just that the croissant is really funny,” — you tried to defuse the situation with a joke.
“are you slow or something, newbie?” - she rolled her eyes at you – “they let anyone into the public programs these days, and now I have to walk alongside them,” - Kate turned back to her friends to check if they were laughing at her "joke."
"anyone? did she just imply that I'm poor or what? no, I'm not letting this slide."
“yes, the public program. for your information, they accept not only the poor, 'with whom you have to walk alongside,' but also those who passes the exams successfully, bitch. if you spent less time thinking about whether certain someone would ask you out after they kick you out of their place without a hint of the phone call you so desperately wanted, and more time studying, maybe you'd get it,” - I think I'm saying too much.
Kate let out a nervous laugh - "what are you even talking about, newbie?" - she gave you a once-over, wondering if you had guessed about Vi’s reaction or if you knew something.
seeing the tension in Kate's eyes, you decided to add quietly but still loud enough for people around to hear - "calling a partner in bed 'daddy' is a bit weird, maybe you should consult a... specialist?" - everyone in the café gasped.
"looks like I crossed the line, I shouldn't have done that, why am I acting like a jealous bitch?"
you cringed slightly at your own words, "I have no right to comment on someone else's private life, especially after eavesdropping without having one of my own."
“look, I'm sorry, I…” - you tried to say, but Kate cut you off with her loud voice.
“so, you’re the new roommate of Vi? I was wondering when we'd meet. listen to me carefully, newbie, you don't know anything about me or my relationship with Vi. why don't you just shut up and go back to whatever cave you crawled out of,” - Kate was visibly upset, and you could feel the eyes of everyone in the café on you. it was so quiet that even the coffee machine seemed to have stopped.
Kate stepped closer to you and whispered so only you could hear – “do you think I won't get you kicked out of there too?”
with a smile, she left the café while everyone else was still staring at you. "not the first impression I planned."
after that total breakfast failure, you could only hope the rumors wouldn't make it to the campus. you worried that people might think you're some creep who eavesdrops on other people's private sex life. but in a way, it was true…
the first classes went by normally. yes, you caught a few glances, but that might just be curiosity about a new face. during the third and final class, you even managed to make some friends among your classmates. they were just as you imagined - smart, fun, and interesting. everything was going great, until one of your new acquaintances asked you a tricky question while saying goodbye.
“hey, were you the one who confronted Kate this morning?” - a tall guy from your group asked.
“I wouldn't say I confronted her, I just said a bit too much,” - you said, looking clearly embarrassed as you stared at the ground.
“look, she kind of had it coming. but keep in mind that she has this rich-girl complex, so don’t be surprised if she starts spreading nasty rumors about you tomorrow. Kate’s the type who still cares about class distinctions and other nonsense. her rich parents basically founded the biggest law firm in the city, and that's where she’s aiming. I think she’s just under a lot of pressure, and that’s why she acts like a total bitch," - shared your classmate.
hearing this, you felt even worse - "I had no right to judge or comment on anything, but she's no saint either. I guess I should apologize, even if it makes things worse."
“thanks for letting me know. happy first day, everyone! I’ll be heading home now," - you said with relief, exhausted by the day’s events, wanting nothing more than to lie down on your bed and close your eyes, even if just for five minutes. the thought that your roommate might be home made your heart race.
“yeah, but don’t forget about the party tonight to kick off the school year. we’re expecting you, no excuses! we’ll send you the details,” - your new friends called after you.
on your way home, you wondered whether you should go to the club, your fatigue was clouding your judgment, but it was a chance to escape the house for the evening and strengthen new friendships. maybe even make some real friends?
“I can’t say no, I have to go, it’s my celebration too. I deserve to have fun,” — you mumbled to yourself as you walked home.
half an hour later, after a slow walk, you finally made it home.
the thought of facing Vi after your flirtatious exchange yesterday was unbearable. you wanted to see her, but the way your body reacted whenever you thought about her words didn`t add confidence. there had always been little sexual tension in your life, to put it mildly. your past partners never made you feel enough emotions to sustain a long-term relationship. it was always the same: meeting, a few dates, sex, a communication that would fizzle out after a few months - that was pretty much the story of all your relationships. sad, but true.
when you got home, you saw Vi on the couch, and your body immediately tensed, but you calmed yourself to make sure she didn’t notice. "sweaty again, must have been working out," - you thought - "maybe if I pretend nothing happened, it’ll be better?"
“hi, Vi, I’m home,” - you said as calmly as possible, trying not to let your voice tremble.
she slowly turned to look at you, glanced at your outfit, and then turned back to the TV and her bag of chips. "I hope that’s not the only thing she’s eaten all day," - you thought.
“how was your day?” - you still tried to keep your tone steady.
“very interesting. I worked out, showered, and then got a message saying my roommate likes to share my sex life with strangers,” - she turned to look you straight in the eyes.
"fuck"
“sorry about that, Kate was just really rude, and I couldn’t hold back. I just really wanted to take a jab at her,” - you started to explain, not breaking eye contact with Vi.
“don’t do it again,” - "and that’s it? well, at least she’s not mad at me. I think."
you desperately wanted to change the subject, so after tossing your bag into your room, you started talking about the first thing that came to mind.
“how can you even eat that junk? I thought athletes were supposed to eat healthy,” - you said, pointing to the bag of chips with a slight smile.
“want me to eat you instead, cupcake?” - she said with a grin, seemingly teasing you on purpose.
your body reacted instantly to that, a light vibration running through your stomach, bringing vivid images to your mind: "you on your bed, your favorite shirt crumpled and unbuttoned so that your chest is completely exposed, your skirt lifted, and your tights torn between your legs. Vi’s face at the level of your most intimate place, her fingers gently trailing along your inner thigh as if she hadn’t just thrown you on the bed and literally ripped your clothes off. "cupcake, you are very attractive now." she pulls your black panties aside with her fingers and speaks so close to your wetness that you feel the vibration - "I guess now we'll see if you'll moan sweetly for me"
you suddenly felt yourself getting wet. unable to take her comments anymore, you turned and went to the room.
the only option to calm your nerves is to take a shower. you wanted her so badly that you hated the feeling - “why can't we just talk? no, I can. she is the one making comments that confuse people. now I'm definitely going to the party, I can't be here today."
throwing your clothes on the floor, you went into the shower, hot water and your favorite shower gel that you brought from home - perfect. when your hands started soaping your body, you felt that you were still tense. your nipples were hard and the bottom of your stomach was very sore. after a second's pause, you decided that it is better to relieve this tension.
after getting out of the shower, you headed towards your bed. slipping under the warm and soft blanket completely naked, your hands began to explore your body. for a long time you have satisfied your needs on your own, sometimes even after having sex with your partners. your body needed special attention, time, touches, words... unfortunately, you rarely got it.
your hand began to stimulate the nipple, squeezing it a little. a wave of pleasure immediately ran through your body. your eyes were closed, you concentrated on the sensations. after a minute, previous images started to return to your head. "want me to eat you instead, cupcake?"
“yes” - a soft moan escaped from you. your other hand went down to your wetness. you started running your fingers and feeling how much you were really turned on. the pad of your middle finger began massaging your clit and another moan escaped you. at this point you didn't care if Vi could hear you. "let her hear, she's not the only one who can tease" - with this thought you launched your middle finger inside of you. it was so pleasant that without waiting even a minute the second finger was inside you too. you fingered yourself as you picked up the pace. in your head you only heard the phrase "yes, baby, come for me". you felt that you were already getting close, after a few movements of your fingers, a wave of pleasure enveloped your body again, but already stronger and you came, letting out a moan from your lips.
a text with the address of the party appeared on your phone. you put on a dress and started looking at yourself in the mirror. a simple short black dress that highlighted your curves fits you perfectly. you styled your hair half-up, which exposed your neck. “not bad,” - you said to yourself.
as you left the room, you noticed that Vi was in the kitchen, seemingly preparing dinner. she looked at you very slowly, letting her gaze linger on the curves of your body. you chose not to show that you noticed it. putting on your shoes, you opened the door and stepped outside.
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tobeafangirl · 14 days ago
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are you going to say it first, or am i?
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Words: 4,917 Rating: M - smut (fingering, kissing) fluff, the slightest bit of angst Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader / Zayn Malik x Reader Type: Chapter (12/25) Previous ❀ Masterlist ❀ Requests
“Why are you so tense?” Harry and I were standing outside of the state fair. Only comes once a year. It was okay, nothing too fancy but it had become a small tradition of ours to go. We would ride a few rides but spent most of the time eating carnival foods and playing those “try your luck” games and failing each time. This time our plans were being interrupted by a certain someone which is why I was standing so tense as we were waiting for Gwen and Zayn to arrive. I did not know what the night had in store for us.  “Is there something I should know?” Harry was still out of the loop about the whole situation. He knew bits and pieces but that was all. 
“I mean,” He continued, “I know you and this guy have kissed but you are acting like there is more to it.” I glanced over at him, my lips pursed together. “Well..” I trailed off, sighing at myself. I should have already told him this, it's not like this was the best time to let him know but I turned towards him, frown slightly present on my face. “We hung out again after, I really thought we could be friends?” that came out as more of a question than a statement. It was true, I thought we could be friends. If he was going to date Gwen then, we kind of needed to be.
 “I know now that was stupid. When you came over that night when Gwen and I were talking, that is what we were talking about.” I did not go into great detail, but I let him know enough to put it all together. He nodded slowly and I watched as his jaw clenched for a split second, probably thinking about what could have possibly happened between Zayn and I. 
“I’m not going to like this guy, am I?” Harry relaxed a little bit and so did I. I shook my head, “Not at all.” 
A good fifteen minutes had passed before I saw Zayn’s truck come speeding into the parking lot. Harry and I watched as they got out of the truck and Gwen fixed her lipstick. They had been making out, you could tell from miles away. Harry rolled his eyes. We both were annoyed. 
“Sorry!” Gwen called out as they hurriedly made their way to us. “We got a bit um, caught up? Yeah, caught up.” She looked happy with her excuse. Zayn didn't say anything, just walked up with lipstick smudged lips and a smirk on his face. He promptly put his arm around Gwen. I glared at them. “No worries, shall we?” Harry gestured towards the laughter coming from behind us. I hoped that would be us soon. 
“So, Harry, this is Zayn.” Gwen did her introductions as we walked. Harry gave a friendly nod to Zayn, “Nice to meet you, man.” Such a gentleman, even given the circumstances. Zayn finally spoke, “Heard a lot about you.” He was eyeing me as he said that. I tried to shrug him off, I was sure Harry could sense how uncomfortable I was. “Likewise” And the way Harry said that caused me to look in his direction. He sounded displeased, aggravated, it was kind of attractive. I heard Zayn chuckle. I knew that was exactly what he wanted. 
“Okay, enough of that. How about we grab a bite to eat? I am starving.” Gwen tried to be the person of reason as she b-lined towards the bright flashing food booths that were set up. Harry and I both kind of walked behind Gwen and Zayn. He still had his arm around her but it had moved from her shoulder to her waist as he held her tightly next to him. I saw a look of disgust on Harry’s face and I could not have agreed more.
“Is this normal?” Harry whispered, leaning down to me a little bit as he did. “Yes.” I told him. Ever since our talk in the living room, they had been all over each other. It did not matter if I was in the room or not, in fact, sometimes I believed it only happened while I was in the room. There was no easy way to be happy for them. 
“Are we like that?” He looked perplexed but this caused me to laugh. I shook my head vigorously “No, no, no..”  And we weren't. Harry knew that being overly touchy in public was not for me. We saved that mostly for private time. Now, did we kiss every once in a while or hold hands, sure. I was not opposed to doing subtle things but Zayn's hand had slipped from Gwen waist down to her ass at this point and I knew it was because we were behind them. To Zayn, everything was a game. 
When we ordered, the look on the cashier’s face was priceless. Zayn got some fries, I think, while the rest of us at least got two-three things on the menu. “That is going to be priceless.” Harry mumbled behind me as I ordered a funnel cake. I shot him a look and he smiled innocently. 
It was clear that Zayn not only looked but seemed out of place among us. We have all been friends for so long and the only person here that was giving Zayn any kind of attention was Gwen. She kept giving me pleading looks to try and make things work. “So, Zayn, have you ever been to the fair here?” I tried my best to fake interest. I received a smile from Gwen, a strange look from Harry, and amusement from Zayn. “I have not. Any pointers?” Something flashed in those dark eyes of his. How could Gwen not tell he was openly flirting with me. At  least that was what it seemed like. I could tell Harry concurred with that too, because suddenly he was closer to me, answering his question for me.
“Stay away from the rides that go further than two feet off the ground, unless it is the ferris wheel. Girl-wonder over here” He pointed at Gwen. “Decided to do the parachute fall, she almost broke her ankle. I even think she puked.” Harry stuck his tongue out at the thought in disgust and I laughed beside him, smacking him on his arm lightly. 
Gwen shook her head as she retold the story, “It came down so fast, I could physically feel the bottom of that ride touch the ground. I think it crashed! They say ‘no that's how it's supposed to go’, I think not.” She was definitely exaggerating, “I could have died.” Okay, over exaggerating. Nearly everyone at the table laughed but Zayn. He was studying Harry and I. I could tell he had tensed up ever since Harry had moved closer to me. He did not like that.
As we sat there to eat I eyed the funnel cake in front of me. I had a childish grin on my face. I haven't had one of these in so long. The distant memory I had of it involved my mom. She used to take me to get one, most of the time to ask for favors. So, it held a bittersweet memory. Sometimes I missed her, but I knew I was better off on my own. “How are you planning to eat that?” Gwen pointed at my funnel cake and I shrugged, “Not sure but it will happen.” 
We rode a few rides. I definitely could say that Harry was a great distraction. He kept me smiling, laughing, and enjoying myself. I almost forgot Gwen and Zayn were there. Unless we could hear them. And I don't mean to hear them talking. Every once in a while we would hear Gwen squeal in excitement as Zayn did something a little too risque in public and Harry and I always turned to see them interlocked with each other in a kiss. They looked so uncomfortable together, like it was forced. And if everything Zayn told me was true, it probably was forced. We both did our best to ignore it though, exchanging glances to each other. 
“I think it's ferris wheel time!” Gwen was excited and so was I. Ferris wheels could be romantic. In the back of my mind, I was hoping we would stop at the very top so we could see everything and share a kiss or two. I blushed at the thought. I know that sounded like a teenage cliché. I was allowed to have a few of those. Harry wiggled his eyebrows at me and I stuck my tongue out at him. It seemed like we were on the same page. 
After waiting in line for a moment it was finally our turn. “Are you all together?” The operator asked. “Yes! Well, sort of.” Gwen tried to explain. “All of you hop in the next one.” The operator said lazily as he barely looked at us. “Can we actually get a separate one?” Harry spoke up, I smiled softly at him. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Those words came from Zayn as he got into the ride, bringing Gwen along with him. She waved at us eagerly as the operator said “Now or never.” 
And there we all were, crammed in a small pod orbiting this stupid ride. My face was not hiding how upset I was. “We can ride again.” Harry offered to me but I shook my head. I was ready to go. Typically the ferris wheel was the last thing we did anyways. Harry nodded in an understanding manner. I think he was ready to go as well. Harry had his arm around me to be more comfortable and was pointing out stupid things to me to get me to smile. It worked. We were not on the ride long before the sounds of wet kissing filled the air. Harry shifted uncomfortably and tried his best to look away. 
Gwen had her legs in Zayn’s lap as they sat there kissing. They looked like they were putting their entire bodies into the kiss. Her hands were all over him while his hand sat on the outside of her thigh, her dress lifted up slightly. She let out a whimper and he let out a hum. I glanced in their direction and Zayn was looking right at me. His eyes half open as he focuses on me and touches another woman. I wonder if Harry noticed that as well. 
Gwen and Zayn had calmed down. Gwen was permanently wearing pink cheeks now as she was flushed and Zayn wore that same smug smile. When we made it to the top, the ride stopped and I let out an audible groan. Of course this would happen in this circumstance. Harry was looking down at me with a smile on his face. I gave him a small confused look before I shook my head at him. He shrugged a bit and raised his eyebrows. We were not about to do this, were we? The darkening of those emerald green eyes told me otherwise. Harry placed his fingers on my cheek as his thumb moved over my bottom lip, it was so slow it almost tickled me. Before I knew it Harry had positioned himself where he could move in and place a sweet, loving, kiss on my lips. It wasn't wild like Zayn and Gwen, but it was the kiss I had imagined for years. He lingered there for a moment before pressing one more kiss to my lips. 
“Dream come true?” He asked once there was slight space between us, I gave him a soft punch to the shoulder “Shut up.” I replied but the grin on Harry’s face was going nowhere. I could hear soft giggles from Gwen and my cheeks started to mimic hers. I glanced their way again and although Gwen looked like she was in a fairy-tale, Zayn did not. His jaw was clenching again, and his eyes were fixated on Harry, burning holes into him. I don't know what he expected to happen tonight, but it was not this.
Once we got off the ride and before Gwen could say anything else. I started to say my goodbyes to them. “Wait, you're leaving?” Gwen sounded sad, but we had been here for hours. She just was not picking up on how bad things have been so far. She was too caught up in a bad thing that she thought was good for her. News flash, it wasn’t. “Yeah, it’s - uh, well, it’s” I tried to come up with an excuse but Harry did that for me “It’s getting late.” Zayn let out a huff  “Of course it is” He was annoyed. We all ignored him, “Okay, well I should be home a little later.” Gwen laced her arm with Zayn’s and I once again found myself cringing at the sight. 
“Y/N is actually staying with me tonight, sorry Gwen.” My eyes shot straight up to Harry’s. This was not something we talked about previously. We thought maybe I could come over after, but there was no talk about staying the night. My eyes slightly widened as I noticed he was now the guy in the group that was carrying a smug smile on his face. He was making Zayn jealous. 
Gwen gave a look of amusement before smiling wide. “Good! Okay, yes, that’s great.” She winked at me. “You two be safe, in every aspect, okay?” Gwen was proud of that one and Harry chuckling at her was not helping, I shook my head as I crossed my arms. “Goodnight Gwen.” Harry said with a small nod. “Zayn.” Harry’s voice was filled with annoyance, this time there was nothing nice behind it. No trying. He genuinely hated this guy.
Once we got back into Harry’s car he slumped in his seat as he looked over at me. “He’s a dick” I snickered a little bit. He most certainly was not wrong. “I could have told you that.” I said with a shrug. I was happy that someone else said it. The way he acted, the way he carried himself, all of it. It was toxic masculinity at its finest. 
“He looks at you like you’re his property.” There was disgust in his voice and I furrowed my brows as I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that's definitely new.” Zayn didn’t act like that before, and I knew it was because Harry was there but still, it was different. I don't know if he thought I would have found it attractive but I did not. 
“I feel horrible for Gwen.” There was a sadness in his voice now, his hand was placed on his forehead. I couldn't help but agree with him there. Gwen had gotten herself into something I was not sure she was going to be able to easily get out of. I sighed as I nodded, “Gwen is grown enough to make her own decisions.” I was using her own words. Not that I agreed because I didn't. Gwen was not the best at making decisions when it came to her relationships, but it was an argument I did not want to have over and over again. 
There was a bit of stalling as Harry thought for a second. “I know but -- Y/N?” It was weird hearing my name come out of his mouth. It had been a while. I almost thought he forgot what my name was. “Yeah?” The atmosphere changed ever so slightly as I glanced at him. He looked worried. “Do you like him?” 
“No.” My answer was without hesitation. I don’t think I ever truly liked him. Just the idea of him. “And the things that happened between you…” Harry continued on and I shook my head “Was nothing.” Harry looked like he was contemplating what I said. I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t been forward about anything that went on between Zayn and I. It was normal for him to have doubts. 
I reached over, taking Harry’s hand in mine as I interlocked our fingers together. “Harry. If anything, hanging out with Zayn only ever solidified that this is what I want.” I gave his hand a light squeeze. “To be here with you.”
I watched as a smile appeared on his face. He glanced at me, giving me a look of adoration. “Now, am I actually staying the night with you?” I asked him, and he chuckled “If you want.” He gave a small shrug but I grew excited at the thought. “I want to.”
***
It never fails to surprise me at how compact Harry’s apartment is. It made my apartment look like a castle. He got a bit awkward when we walked inside and I smiled to myself at how flustered he was, slightly picking up small messes as he realized them. This is why we typically hung out at my apartment, but this was still nice. Something about it made it homey. Maybe it was because I was there with Harry who could make the strangest places feel like home to me. 
He walked into his kitchenette, fiddling with glasses as he did so. I wasn't even sure if he had a stove, it just kind of looked like a hot top in there. I giggled slightly. It amazed me how much I was noticing. Typically, Harry would usher me straight into his room. “Do you want some water or anything?” He called out to me. I shook my head although he couldn’t see me. “No, thank you though.”
The air was thicker, different from normal. This was new territory. I could feel how nervous we both were. He turned on his heels. “Bedroom?” He asked and my eyes widened. He was fast to figure out how that might have sounded, “I mean -- not like bedroom, but like -- movie. Do you want to watch a movie?” He was scratching the back of his neck now, face scrunched slightly in embarrassment. I laughed, seeing him frazzled always caused enjoyment. Calm, cool, and collected jumped right out of the window.
“Sure, that’s fine.” I followed behind Harry as he made his way into the bedroom. He turned on the light and I softly smiled. Always so clean here. The bed was always made, Harry really cared about his bedroom. Maybe it was his safe space. I looked around and noticed that his simple pictures had changed. There had been a fourth one added to his collection. It was him and I. It just looked like a random photo that we had taken one day, but I was full smiling towards the camera as Harry had his lips pressed against my cheek. This caused me to blush. This boy was astonishing. 
“Um - I can get you some sweats?” He pointed at the jeans I was still wearing and I nodded eagerly. “I would appreciate it.” If I would have known this was happening, I would have packed a bag to make things a little easier. Harry handed me a pair of his sweats and I made my way into his bathroom. I looked into the mirror once I got in there and took a deep breath. What was happening? 
I turned on the water and threw some on my face, the cold making me shiver as I tried to pull myself together. This was Harry. But this felt different. I began to take my jeans off and replace them with sweats. They were soft and smelt like his “special” detergent. It was Tide, I was pretty sure, but I let him have his secrets. I reached behind me underneath my shirt and unhooked my bra. If I was staying the night I was going to be comfortable. I stacked my clothes neatly on the counter before taking the short walk back into the bedroom. Harry had changed as well. He had on some sleep shorts and a plain white shirt. The way it clung to him caused my breath to hitch for a moment. 
“Ready?” he asked, his eyes trained on me. I could only bring myself to nod as I made my way to the bed and pulled the covered back. I got myself situated comfortably, Harry doing the same on his side. He ended up picking a movie we had both seen before and I wondered if that was intentional or not. 
At first, it felt like we were miles apart. He had a small bed, and we were both at our separate ends. We would brush each other every once and a while and each time I nearly jumped at the feeling. 
“I can’t…” Harry shook his head and closed the gap between us. He swiftly moved me so that his arm was around my back, practically laying me where he wanted, which was partially on top of him. I let my hand lay on his chest as I let out a small giggle. “That’s better” A sigh of relief left him. 
We laid there in silence until credits started to roll. I felt so safe in his arms. “We should get some rest.” He whispered but there was something hidden underneath his words. I couldn't quite figure it out. I glanced at the time. It wasn't extremely late. Usually, we didn't go to sleep until late in the morning when the birds were just about to start chirping. But I nodded, “Yeah.” I was unsure of myself at that moment, but I knew that agreeing was in my best interest. 
He turned off the TV and the room became quiet and dark. We started to get more comfortable as we moved further down onto the bed, “Goodnight.” 
He hummed and repeated “Goodnight.” back to me as he leaned his head down to catch my lips with his. The kiss was soft and lingering and my fingers tightened in his shirt in an effort to pull myself close to him. When he pulled back it wasn’t far, it was like he was weighing his options and I knew what they were. I couldn’t see him as clearly anymore but I could feel those eyes on my lips. 
The second kiss was a little more electric than the first, his lips pressing a bit harder to show just how eager he was. I kept up with his pace and tangled my free hand in his hair, slightly tugging it. I had come to find out he liked that. He hummed with approval and I smiled against his lips. He then began to move us to where I was on my back and he was hovering above me. 
It amazed me that our lips never parted. His tongue now danced at my lips and I was quick to let him in. I let my fingers run up and down his back, slightly scratching, another thing that he liked. That’s when his lips broke from mine and started to slowly trail kisses alongside my jaw before dipping into the nape of my neck. Each kiss he planted there added fuel to the fire. I tilted my head to give him easy access, and he responded by nipping at the flesh as a thank you. I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding in.
Harry’s hand made me shiver as it made its way up my shirt, lifting it up as he did so. His touch was soft. It was at this moment I remembered that I was not wearing a bra. I went through different emotions. Panic, curiosity, and lastly acceptance. I wanted him to touch me. No, I needed him to. However, he didn't. Before his soft fingers touched sensitive flesh, Harry pulled away, sitting up on his knees. I didn't know when it happened, but Harry was now perfectly sitting in between my legs. He took in the sight of me and I could only imagine what was staring back at him.
My eyes were filled with lust, my lips slightly parted. I was panting softly, in awe of the events that were taking place. He smirked. He felt proud. He should. He reached down and pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. I bit down on my lip with desire. 
Before he could lean back into me I stopped him. I wanted to take him in. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and the faint light of the moon outside. He was miraculous. No, he didn’t have a crazy defined eight pack but he had tone in the right places, I could see his muscles that he hid so well under his shirt. A smooth chest, slight abs. I was in love with my view. 
I took this moment to raise myself up. It wasn’t fair that he was the only one shirtless, right? I reached for the hem of my shirt and I was sure I saw Harry hesitantly begin to stop me but he didn’t. I lifted my shirt and tossed it to the side, letting my hair fall wherever it may as I tried to hide behind it. I heard his breath catch in his throat and I thanked the lord he couldn’t see how red my face was. 
He moved my hair out of my face and our eyes locked. Yes — there was lust in Harry’s eyes as expected but what I didn’t expect to see was love. He looked at me in the most cherishing ways, like I was the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on. He slowly laid me back and our lips connected once again, this time in a tender kiss as his hands slowly explored my body. 
I was not an idiot. This was not Harry’s first rodeo and I knew that but boy could I also tell it. The way he kissed the top of my chest, down the valley of my breasts to my belly button, to my sides. I was practically whimpering, the area of my body being neglected that longed the most for his touch. 
I could not help the moan that escaped from me as he wrapped his lips around my already hardened nipple, my back arching into him as he did so. He hummed in response, the vibration sending more pleasurable chills through me. My fingers tightened in his hair while his right hands trailed down to the waistband of the sweatpants I was wearing. 
His eyes glanced up towards me and I nodded in approval. “Please” I whispered, I don't think he expected that and to tell the truth I didn't either. He kept his eyes locked on mine as his hand slipped beneath every layer of fabric that separated his touch from the area that was dripping with anticipation. His fingers traced the outside of my folds as his eyes intensified. “Say it again” His voice was deep and yet breathy. I shook with excitement as the word came effortlessly from my lips, “Please.” 
And with that his fingers dipped inside of me, slowly working circles over my clit as I tried my hardest not to thrash around. I was lost in complete ecstasy as continuous moans left me. A couple of them were swallowed by Harry as he would catch my lips with his from time to time, only fueling the passion between us.
He worked two fingers inside of me as I closed my eyes even tighter than before. “Harry.” I moaned his name as his fingers pumped at a pace that caused my nails to dig into the skin of his arm and my hips ground down onto his digits. 
My breath quickened, I could fill my pleasure building up to its climax. Harry seemed to encourage this, picking up on the hints and his fingers worked magic inside of me while his thumb moved over my clit in delicious ways. This was it. My back arched once again and I let out a cry I had never heard before, shaking as I held onto him. He chuckled in my ear as he placed kisses all over my face. I felt numb as my body slowly came down from its high. 
My eyes connected with his again. His eyes wide with hunger, mine half-lidded and lazy. The entire time I could feel him against me, how hard he was, I wanted to take care of him like he did me. I reached down to the hem of his shorts and he took my hands in his. I looked at him confused and he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Tonight is all about you, Y/N.” And with those words he gave me another outstanding kiss before he laid on his side and pulled me into him, making me the little spoon. 
It was hard to wrap my head around what just happened. My mind was still foggy. All I knew was that I was warm. Not just by his touch but warm with love for the guy who laid behind me. Tonight had been perfect despite the earlier events. Everything felt right. I snuggled into him as much as I could, a bright smile on my face and Harry gave me a small peck on the side of my face as his arms wrapped around me. I really could get used to this.
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viperwhispered · 1 year ago
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Too Fast
Part 4 of Jamil versus feelings (aka How Not to Be Swept Under, aka the Too Much series). Let's see how Jamil's plan of action pans out. Part 1, part 2, part 3.
Jamil had a plan.
He already knew he could make you smile, even laugh. That you sought out his company - and not just to sample his cooking (or Kalim’s generosity). Like that time when Jamil had helped you with your homework - considering how little you needed the help, it seemed to have been an excuse on both your sides to just spend time with each other.
Jamil knew the foods that would bring that delighted sparkle to your eye, knew when to step in before you were overwhelmed. You often shared any news with Jamil, filling him in the little happenings of your life - and had gotten him to do the same with you, too. He’d listened to you reminisce about your childhood and your home, even knew a few embarrassing secrets you’d revealed over the course of your conversations.
In short, it was clear that you had some degree of fondness for him.
However, Jamil had yet to ascertain the exact nature of how you felt about him.
But he was certain he could pull it out of you. Nudge you to act, to talk, so that he could gather those signs to tell him if you were open for more.
He’d see if you truly didn’t speak to others the same way you did to him. If you truly didn’t give others that look which always made things so difficult for him.
There had been those times when you had blushed in Jamil’s presence. You’d flustered, stuttered, restless fingers showing your nervousness.
But Jamil needed to make sure if it was because of him, or just the situations you’d been in.
Jamil had recognized the things you were doing, how you kept on getting closer to him.
But he needed to know if it all was enough for what he wanted with you.
And if not… Well. Perhaps there was something to be done about that. Given enough time, enough attention…
He could be a listening ear, a supporting presence, get to know you further, if he needed to.
Yes, he wanted you to be his sooner rather than later, but if he had to wait and work for it, he would.
After all, it was not like him to ruin such things with haste.
When Jamil’s phone buzzed, he pulled it out without even thinking about it.
Before, he always dreaded it, his phone typically only coming to life when Kalim needed something or there was another crisis to deal with.
Yet, nowadays, there was always the hope of it being you.
Jamil hefted his gym bag over his shoulder and unlocked his phone. The basketball club had run late today, and he needed to hurry back to Scarabia - but not before checking the message.
Thankfully, you were indeed the sender.
Hey, wanna go out to the town sometime? Cater told me there’s a nice cafe that opened recently.
Another message popped in before Jamil could finish reading the first.
Like, go out as a date.
The phone slipped from Jamil’s grip, landing on the locker room bench with a thud.
“Hey, Jamil, what’s got you so clumsy?” Ace said, peering at Jamil with a teasing grin.
Jamil cursed himself internally, quickly hiding your messages from view. Normally, he would’ve been walking across campus at this time, perhaps at the dorm already, rather than under the watchful eyes of his clubmates.
But, of course, not today.
“Just fumbled,” Jamil said, struggling to school his expression back to neutral.
“You sure about that? You’re looking awfully flustered,” Ace snickered.
“Ooo, is Sea Snake getting some exciting messages?” Floyd asked, looming closer.
Jamil gave both of them a sharp glare - the effect perhaps hampered by his flushed complexion. He really did not need Floyd and Ace’s antics on top of this bombshell right now.
“Must be the effects of the practice,” Jamil said with a tone of finality.
Not that that seemed to deter the two, now that they’d gotten a taste of blood in the water.
Rather than bickering with them further Jamil grabbed his things and hurried off. He almost expected Floyd to chase after him, even half-dressed as Floyd still was, but thankfully the eel did not seem to be in that much of an inquisitive mood today.
Small blessings.
Jamil was barely aware of his surroundings as he walked, his heart beating a more frantic rhythm than it had during the practice.
How was he supposed to respond to you?
He had not even done anything as he planned, and you already…
Jamil shook his head, tried to keep himself together despite the turmoil your little messages had thrown him into.
Sure, he had intended to push you to act, to reveal the nature of your feelings.
Yet that had left Jamil woefully unprepared for this.
Jamil stared at his phone again, barely remembering to blink or breathe, nearly colliding head-first with some other students.
Finally, he typed out a message.
Are you serious?
Your reply was almost immediate.
Yes
Jamil fidgeted with the strings of his hood, watching the little bubble that told him you were still typing.
Sorry for being a coward and not asking in person.
If you don't feel the same way we can just pretend this never happened.
Oh how Jamil wished he could see your expression right now, could talk to you in person, get to the bottom of this.
Or would it be better to respond to you in text, without worries of stumbling over his words, or getting caught in your eyes like a deer in headlights?
Jamil started writing a reply, frowned and erased it, began to compose another.
He took a deep breath, briefly lifting his eyes from the phone to check where he was going.
What did he have planned for today, anyway? How much time could he clear for you?
Mind abuzz with plans, Jamil tried again.
Can I come over later? I’ll bring something to eat.
I’d rather talk this over in private first, if that’s okay with you.
A few more messages, setting the time, assuring you that he was not opposed to your proposal. Then Jamil shoved the phone into his pocket, reviewing his options.
He’d make something quick for Kalim’s dinner while preparing something to share with you. (What could he make with the time and ingredients he had that you really liked? What about dessert? He knew how much you enjoyed sweets, after all.)
Kalim had no homework deadlines or quizzes tomorrow, and Jamil’s own schoolwork schedule had room for adjustment, as well. They could catch up later. (He’d have to make sure he looked impeccable. Would flowers be too much? Would he have the time to visit Sam’s for them?)
Jamil might have to get up a little early tomorrow for a few things, but he’d deal with that tomorrow. (What if you’d let him stay late? How close would you let him tonight? Would you let him hold you? Maybe even kiss you?)
When Jamil realized that he was standing in front of Sam’s shop instead of the mirror to Scarabia, he simply stared at the storefront for a moment, uncomprehending.
Then Jamil shook his head, frowning.
He’d have to focus, keep his mind on target. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.
Yet, despite his best efforts, Jamil salted the food twice, having to scramble to fix the flavor. When he left Scarabia he nearly left behind the small package he’d picked up at Sam’s, forced to turn back to retrieve it.
And when he walked over to your dorm, Jamil had to consciously tell himself to slow down, lest he’d appear too frazzled by the time he made it.
Mentally, Jamil berated himself. Get a grip! After everything Kalim has thrown your way, you can definitely handle this.
Yet, Jamil still had to steel himself before he rapped on your door.
Jamil’s greeting nearly caught in his throat when he saw you.
He could see the effort you’d put in, dressing up a little, yet more than that it was all those emotions swirling on your features that took his breath away. The nervous excitement which had you fidget in place, the radiance in your smile, the way your eyes seemed to drink him in…
Jamil cleared his throat, determined to not drown in you.
“Thank you for accepting me on such short notice,” Jamil said, handing you a small, neatly wrapped box.
With a thrilling sense of satisfaction Jamil noted the way your eyes widened, how your voice wavered when you invited him in. How you smiled when you found out what he had picked out for you, the gift clearly finding its mark.
Still, you were both stepping around each other, following the scripts of a regular visit when this felt like anything but.
Jamil took out the food he’d made, insisted he’d help you with setting the table despite your protests.
It was an awkward dance, both of you trying to regain your footing.
“I just… feel like I have to say it,” you finally said as you were setting out the food. “That I like you. A lot. So…”
The way you spoke, pouring out your feelings, hesitant and nervous as you were…
Yes, Jamil had wanted to talk this over in person, had wanted to see and hear you say it. Still, now he had just as much trouble meeting your eyes as you had, both of you busying yourselves with the tableware.
You were so nervous, and Jamil felt the urge to pull you close and chase away all your worries.
But he would not push.
Not when he had his hands full keeping his own self under control.
A part of him couldn’t help but feel like he’d deceived you, somehow, for you to hold him in such regard.
And when the silence lingered… What could he even say?
Jamil had thought of it, sure, imagined how you’d react to his words… But at this moment nothing would rise to his tongue, all the carefully picked words gone from his mind.
Jamil took your hand, holding it in between both of his. He spoke your name, oh so softly, his voice cracking under the weight of it.
Hearing himself made Jamil cringe, yet he pushed on.
“I’m… I am glad to know we both want the same. That we feel the same.”
For a brief moment, Jamil hesitated. Then he raised your hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles. His eyes flicked to yours, full of those feelings that threatened to sweep him under.
Just him being here with you like this… It told you enough, didn’t it?
Your blush certainly seemed to suggest so.
Jamil would make sure to cause your cheeks to burn brighter. Later.
Once his own face stopped feeling like a hot plate under the sun.
* * *
Later, you sat side by side on the couch, Jamil’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against him.
You’d hardly stopped smiling the whole evening, and Jamil could feel the hurt in his own cheeks. 
It was strange, giving into those urges Jamil had been doing his best to hold back all this time.
Still, he had to admit that it was easier trying to move with the current rather than fighting against it.
Yes, the looks you gave him were still overwhelming, your words - and touch - sending his heart aflutter almost painfully.
When you sang his praises, looking at him like your happiness depended on him… It really was just a tidal wave, one far too large for Jamil to withstand.
Yet, finally, Jamil was beginning to allow himself to enjoy it all.
These things - your sweetness, your warmth - were only for him, after all. A heady thought, something that made him greedy for even more despite the overwhelming nature of it all.
Of course, Jamil still didn’t want to overstep.
Truthfully, he himself wasn’t ready for some of the scenarios tugging at the back of his mind.
With the wisdom of hindsight it seemed that you had always been ahead of Jamil, more aware of your feelings than he was of his.
Perhaps even more aware of his feelings than Jamil had been, considering how you’d pursued him - because that was what you had been doing, all this time.
Even if Jamil himself had been too busy contending with his own thoughts to truly see it.
Still, it was difficult even for Jamil to worry about such things with your warmth pressed against his side. Jamil played with your hair, let himself just soak up your presence.
And in that sweet moment Jamil finally stopped fighting, at least for a moment. He let go of his plans, his resistance, and allowed himself to be swept up by you.
Indeed, it hardly felt like he had a choice in the matter.
ETA: you can find the final / 5th part of this series here. This sure stayed in my drafts longer than I thought it would, but here we are. There’s still one more part coming and then we’ll be reaching the end of this particular journey. If you'd like to be tagged in my future works, do let me know! Jamil: alright I need to make sure they want to be with me and then I can move forward Reader: I’ve been trying to get with you for a while now and I can’t wait any longer or Jamil: I gotta gain control over this situation Reader: surprise :)
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polyamorousmood · 5 months ago
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I feel like I'm inclined toward, not fully open relationships per se, but closed small group poly if that makes sense. But the thing is I'm still a virign in terms of penetrative sex and I can't see how someone in my situation can be with multiple people at once because how would I even choose which one to let fuck me first. Also, I'm a bi woman and have internalized the idea that my first time with a man has to happen before my first time with a woman because if it happened the other way around I'd be betraying the Sapphic community by straying for men. And on top of that I can't do no strings attached sex (on some level I'd argue no such thing truly exists, that the act itself comes with strings by design) or one night stands. I've tried, and it's never ended well even though I want to be able to be fun enough to be worth being with in a world where refusing early sexual contact gets me written off as incompatible by the vast majority of people outside who align with my core political and social values. So that brings another problem I need, if not a relationship, at least a very strong friendship and basis of trust and comfort to sleep with someone, which is also antithetical to the way things work in the real world past high school. And I can't fathom the thought of being penetrated by a circumcised penis due to past attempts being really awful and failing and being blamed for that failure and me not being willing to risk that ever happening again. In theory I'd blow a guy who was circumcised but I'm too afraid of being forced to go further than that so I'd rather not even be in any kind of sexual situation with them. And like I want to believe that there's some circumcised guy out there who would be willing to prove me wrong but I can't see that happening so despite living in a state where like 85% of the male population is circumcised and the majority that aren't being notably younger I find myself trying to look for a man with whom I a share core values, shared interests and mutual romantic and sexual attraction and who is uncircumcised and not so big that I can't imagine it not hurting and who is okay with not having sexual intercourse right away and who will provide a comfortable and good experience for my first time (setting aside the inherent awkwardness of a first time) and who will stick with me allowing me to learn from practice together rather than abandoning me for not being perfect in the bedroom from the get go as is so often expected once your past a certain age (I'm at an age where it's assumed you've had sex before so nobody bothers asking and I'm never sure when to bring it up) so that I can share that with him and then I plan to eventually ask to open things up. Initially just to pursue my feelings toward other women but after some time I would consider asking if it'd be okay for me to add other men to our polycule as well but the trouble is I can't seem to find the right first man. Any advice?
Yeah, so uh. Basically?
You made up most of those rules. You don't have to follow them.
I am sympathetic to the nature of trauma, and of anxieties. It is because of my sympathy that I think it is a bad idea to default to capitulating to them.
Put more plainly, you complicate your life unnecessarily by letting your worst thoughts dictate your actions.
Any one of these considerations would be reasonable enough. We all do this on ocassion, and we are right to do so! Not everything is worth the mental struggle of untangling. Having said that. You clearly have so many untangled thought patterns and habits that it's interfering significantly with your life which means it's time to roll up your sleeves and sit down with at least one of these wads of Christmas lights🎄🧶, metaphorically speaking.
I don't care which one you start with, but it seems to me the easiest would be your point about *checks notes📝* dating a man first so you aren't betraying saphics? Did I get that right?
If you'll allow me to be blunt, you already characterized this thought as a stupid one. So why are you still planning on following it❓️❓️ Sweetheart. You know this. You know that's a thought we think and go "well the medallion says that's stupid so we're not gonna do that" [<-reference you don't need to get]. But here you are, planning your whole life around it? What the fuck are we doing here, lady? Leave that shit on the side of the road where it belongs! Your honorable sanitation worker will dispose of that trash if you just leave it outside and ignore it long enough, my good bitch (affectionate).
You could work on the other stuff too. Trauma is a mess, and I respect due caution⚠️ with the dating world. But it is... just sad to me you're willing to write off 70% of men for a feature they cannot change. That's probably a lot more to unpack, and I am not qualified to give that intensive mental health advise. But, man, I would understand if a fella were a little hurt. 🫤
Massive pivot incoming
But I think you were posting asking for advice on how to get into relationship(s) like what you specified. And like, if you're not going to put some work into the above, then I suppose my advice would be to try to 🦄Unicorn🦄? If you're not in the know, that means (roughly) that you become the "third" for an established couple👫. I'm given to understand bisexuality women are very popular in this niche. It has its own pitfalls, but you wouldn't have to worry about the order if you were dating them both, for one. It also might help some of your anxiety around men to have a woman that's vouching for him. And like. Those that are seeking a relationship (and not just a casual sex) would, I assume, be willing to wait a bit without a whole lot of hullabaloo since they can still fuck each other in the meanwhile. 🤷‍♀️ It's good practice during these to discuss what sex would look like ahead of time anyway, so that would be a natural time to bring up... all of what you wrote. [EDIT: I don't think the matter of who to fuck first would be an issue. Sleep with the man first since you said that's what you want. They're not going to take offense, and if they are, they will be very upfront about it]
Aside from that, I think your only option would be to befriend a lot of men🧍‍♂️👨‍🦱👨🧍‍♂️👨‍🦳👨‍🍼, ask weirdly specific questions about their genitals🤔 until you find one that seems suitable, and start angling for a friends-to-lovers situation.
Or, oh here's a novel one, get you a guy who's into bandage🪢➰️ and tease/denial! Then you'll control everything sexually and he won't be bothered! Win-win! Have you tried FetLife? (Light-hearted... but only half joking)
Also, everyone's mileage will vary, but I have found men wanting a relationship with you are willing to sort through sexual stuff with you. I'd take the time to get to know someone first, make sure you're both a little invested. The ones who care about sexual stuff so much they'd "abandon" you... probably wasn't serious about the relationship (not to say a guy's never gotten serious after getting invested at least partially through sex).
whatever you decide to do, good luck out there, friend.🍀🍀
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lani-heart · 1 year ago
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|| series masterlist || ACT II PREVIEW // previously
parings -> riki nishimura x readerg enre -> non-idol au, school au, hyrbid au warnings -> neglectment / rejection word count -> 1k
abstract -> sometimes certain sacrifices have to be made.
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y/n's perspective
The party was fine… despite our hybrids glaring at each of us. Karina was his hybrid who… didn’t like me. While Niki… looked like he wanted to jump my new fake boyfriend at any moment. 
Our parents thought it was a good idea because they thought we were a little too close to them. What I didn’t know was that he was in a relationship with his hybrid. We were both the same, and we’d both have to lie for the time being so our hybrids wouldn’t get the treatment we feared.
“I was thinking of having her join those classes!” he said and she scoffed. “I don’t think you should. I didn’t want Niki to but he begged for them” I explained and he nodded. “Yeah, listen to your shiny new girlfriend,” she scoffed, and he sighed. 
She had every right to be angry… but I didn’t want to be physically involved with him. 
“y/nnie I wanna go home” Niki begged and I did too but we had a quota to finish before leaving. “I do too!” Karina also added to her owner and I chuckled. 
“Hey, Niki? Should we go to the street market after?” I ask and his eyes light up. 
“Do you really need to ask?” he said happily as Karina was now trying to be comforted by her owner. “Do… you have to fake date that guy?” he asked and I sighed. 
“Niki… my parents want to set me up in an arranged marriage,” I said and he stopped walking to look at me. “W-what?” he asked and I sighed. “At first they wanted me to marry Hyunsuk, but he refused thankfully and then he rebelled so they dropped it for a bit. But… They wanted me to start dating friends and they gave me this huge list of boys to see if I got along with them.” I confessed and he looked… upset. “Of course I said no,” I said and he nodded as he hugged me tightly. 
“He was one of them… but it seems like we have a similar situation to him. There are rumors about him, and how he’s in a relationship with his cat hybrid Karina '' I said and he hummed. 
“Trust me… I won’t let them actually marry me off. I plan to stall until I have my own income and then, you and me!” I said and he chuckled. “We should live in Japan,” he offered. 
“We should! Then we’d be free to do what we wanted” 
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niki’s perspective
She wasn’t kidding when she said she got a list. 
Hyunsuk, Junghwan, Chenle, Seonghwa, so many but I also know some of them would never agree which meant she would choose and her parents would handle it. 
I wonder… What would happen if we ran away like Hyunsuk’s sister?
While looking through her messages with her mom about this stupid arranged marriage… I saw something. “You’re planning on studying abroad?” I am now excited to see Kyoto University as her option with her mom. She smiled… “Snooping now aren’t you?” she teased and I chuckled. 
“Yeah… Chenle was telling me how his friend is currently in China and how it was a good break for her. Especially since she’s an art student, she’s getting over the artist block and I thought… this would be a good way to avoid the rumors and dating situation to get out of hand” she said and I grinned. 
“Where should we go first?” I asked and she chuckled. “Hmm… we have a lot to do there don’t we?” she asked and I nodded. 
This was different from visiting Japan with her parents… we had no supervision and could go anywhere without being asked where. 
“I do want to do some shopping in Shibuya, '' she said and I chuckled. “I want to go to Akihabara! We have to see what cafes have events soon!” 
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We were finishing up this semester early so we could have a head start in Japan. So this was my last etiquette class… I wanted to say bye to Jake but I don’t know what happened for him not to show up. 
“That dog stole your coat, you know?” I heard and saw the bird. My coat that I left? “He also ran… not like I blame him,” he said. “Hybrids have chips though–” “They do… but you can easily cut them out” he explained and I sighed. Hybrids who ran away often were found easily… someone could report it. 
“I don’t think he’ll last that long. They’ll find him easily” he added and I wondered… “Why didn’t you snitch?” I asked and he scoffed. “If I could run, I would too…” he said as he went to his seat by himself. He’d run away too? 
It sometimes made me realize… the hybrids here, the majority, were miserable. Under either adoption programs or… rich kids with too much money. 
Jay was a bird hybrid… exotic here for Korea often found in North America. Some hybrids were happy… but most were miserable. Jay and Sunoo were examples that I knew of… the bird hybrid has a reputation of being a good and responsible hybrid but never could stay with an owner for more than a few months. He was a free trial hybrid so others could see what they wanted in a hybrid to have a reference and then dispose of him. 
Whilst Sunoo was a popular hybrid known for his looks but also for how fidgety the fox was… his owner was one that I hated. When we were younger we often talked and got along but with how his owner became more and more bitchy y/n no longer associated herself with her and so I never talked to him again. 
Even Jake I guess… he was so desperate that he must've been given bad news. 
It made me feel guilty at times but it wasn’t my fault I was given someone who actually cared about me. 
“Stop that before I tell your owners!” the professor said as she scolded a group of hybrids throwing stuff at the deer hybrid on the other side. “His antlers are in the way!” Sunghoon said… he’s another example of a miserable hybrid. 
“Idiots” I heard as I saw the black cat hybrid who always sat in front of me say bored out of his mind. 
Maybe… I just quit these classes?
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ttaglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr @starzniiky @kibs-and-bits @b3tt7boop @in-somnias-world @lol6sposts @xiaoderrrr @jihyosgfremade @b-a-nshee-blog @mimisamisasa @katsukis1wife @eggomi @thunderous-wolf @tinyteezer
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please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3
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miyamoratsumuu · 11 months ago
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your moots as tropes?
you unleashed the yappinator nonnie 🤙🏼 HIHI OK HERE WE GO!!
@lounaticcc what ifff childhood sweethearts!!!! those cute little pairs of kids promising to marry each other when they're older and sharing a ring pop AAAAAGH I could def see that with louise!!! just the innocence and genuineness of that trope reminds me so much of her<3
@daetko 100% childhood friends to lovers type!! I always thought of this trope as something so genuine and wholesome 🙇🏻‍♀️ talia's always super duper sweet and genuine, idk she just fits the vibe!! 🫶🏻
@rueclfer HEAR ME OUT!!!! what if bodyguard trope if that's even a thing BC LIKE every time I think of rue I instantly think of touya 😸 so if not villain, then 100% hired bodyguard/protector!!!! (protective touya ehem) OR OR ROCKSTAR ROMANCE AAAAGH I could think of so many tropes for rue actually, and most of them I don't even have a proper reason for??? they just fit like that 😋
@rinne-mio don't be mad at me, but what if playing hard to get trope 🥰🥰 I could see rin as the type to refuse affection when face to face with a suitor or what but the moment they turn their back on her she's squealing like crazy LMAOAHAHA sorry rin I mean this in the best way possible tho ily 🫶🏻 "lambingin mo naman ako" vibes sheesh I could go on and on about this one actually
@whenanafallsinlove secret relationship mayhaps?? ana seems like such a genuine lover to me and I actually don't think she'll be the type to keep a relationship a complete secret 🙏🏼 BUT you know those lowkey relationships where people would only know they're dating bc they asked the supposed couple? yep!! I could see ana in that hihi
@seumyo hear me out when I say roommates to lovers 🤲🏻🤲🏻 ESPECIALLY SINCE LIKE I saw your few latest posts about moving into your new place, and I think it fits??? I haven't actually talked to eumy much to the point that I'm more than sure with what trope to give her but I have a feeling that she's not the type to easily fall, but when given a certain amount of time to know someone I think maybe it'll work???
@sweetheartsaku say it with me HIGHSCHOOL SWEETHEARTS HIGHSCHOOL SWEETHEARTS!!!! saku's the type of lover that despite only being in highschool just might give it her all AND I'M SO SORRY IF I'M WRONG ABOUT THIS 😞😞 ALSO ALSO LIKE!! I could back up this claim with her most recent instagram story and idk!!! I just feel like saku's the type to softlaunch a highschool lover like how the layout of your latest ig story was 🙏🏼🙏🏼
@angeliicheartt I'm not too sure about this one but I think academic rivals to lovers??? OR ATLEAST LIKE rivals in one hobby to lovers 😽 elle would absolutely not give up on something she loves so easily just bc someone else came along and might be better than her at it so what if that leads to yk yk tk
@lunatiqez fake dating mayyybeee?? not completely sure about this one too, BUT HEAR ME OUT!!!! I could totally see liv in those typical plots where there's a situation where she needs to "fake date" someone to save one of their reputations or something, then eventually they fall in love ALL THAT!!! but with this one, both of them actually know they're starting to fall for each other but decide to do nothing about it!!!! bc like I said, everything they did was all just for the act of saving a public reputation
@kovu-bunnbunn I think I could see kovu in "touch my lover and see what happens" IDEK IF THAT'S A TROPE BUT STILL!!! feel like kovu would be one of those protective lovers but not in a bad way!! and I feel like their lover would do the same for them too 🤝🏻
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marshmellowtea · 2 months ago
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do you have any headcanons for robert’s family/childhood/relationship history?
not as many as i do for chris of course LMAO but i have a few:
i'm of the firm belief that robert is smack in the middle of seven children, which is a huge part of the reason why he's Like That(tm). he has such extreme neglected middle child vibes to me alkjgdasl
i don't have super concrete headcanons for any of his siblings (other than ellie ofc but we'll get to her <3) but i do know that they're mostly if not entirely sisters (which is also part of the reason why he's Like That)
i also know robert absolutely ranks them in his head the same way he did the drama society in his masterclass lmao. obviously here though he's ranking them by how good of a sibling they are and these rankings change based on his whims except for his youngest sister who's at the bottom because he's jealous of her being the baby and he's petty like that lol
would being the youngest child have fixed robert. no he would've been so much worse. we're lucky things turned out the way they did LMAO
........rest of this post is going under a cut cuz in typical marshy fashion it got looooong lol. i guess i had more thoughts on this than i thought (or maybe writing this got me thinking about it more? hmmmm.......)
anyway one of his older siblings (if not the oldest one) is the one who had lucy. they did drop in his rankings after this happened but he raised them again after he realized he could make his poor niece take his acting lessons ghlkasdfk
ellie was already very low on his list (no major reason for this, they just argue a lot/don't generally get along) and she did drop to second to last after dating chris. she was saved from the absolute bottom of the list by the youngest sister grudge because that beef won out over his irritation and jealousy at her dating his rival lmao
as you can probably tell, i don't think robert has a great relationship with most of his siblings tbh. i think attention was a limited currency in the grove family, and so he considered them competition for his mother and father's attention, and they considered him competition right back. i don't think the grove parents intentionally tried to pit them against each other, but they were extremely sparing with who they gave attention and their affection to, so it was just a natural result of their neglect that their children would end up fighting for whatever little they did give out 😭
which is to say that while robert and chris both had cold, emotionally distant mothers, celia is obsessed with chris (particularly with regards to micromanaging him) and just pretends like she isn't, but robert's mother genuinely barely remembers he exists some days :')
and when she does remember he exists she's disappointed in him. RIP buddy
to once again contrast him with chris though, i really do think he's mostly over trying to convince his mother to love him. like, it's not gone, i don't think that kinda thing ever fully goes away and it can certainly be triggered by certain things (i think the coup was something that he ummm. totally very casually brought up to her to try to impress her and unfortunately she was not impressed in the slightest 😔), but he's definitely not endlessly and actively striving for it the way chris does.
no, instead he just has slightly inappropriate relationships with older women to chase that validation instead, especially those who are the mothers of his friends. fun! :D
related to both those points, i think that in summer once again, the "mother said i was all talk and no trousers" line was referring to his actual mother, and the "another spanking from mother" line was referring to a dominatrix he was seeing at the time, lmao. and the way sandra rolls her eyes when he says the latter makes me feel like he's definitely told her way too much about that situation ahgakldsjfkl
and he does call them both mother because he's a Freak with a capital F. listen, if shields, lewis, and sawyer didn't want me to interpret these characters this way they wouldn't have written those lines into the show, they're practically begging me to be freudian about it ghkladsjf
anyway! as far as his father goes, just like one raymond bean, he was way less involved in the kids' lives than his mother (who's. already pretty uninvolved. RIP). i think i saw a piece of lore saying his dad is a surgeon and tbh i like that idea, his father having some high paying job with long hours that keep him away from the house for extended periods of time, so i think i'm gonna keep it even if i'm misremembering :')
i think. robert is far less concerned with receiving his approval than his mother's lol. i think part of it is that with his father it already feels like a lost cause because he didn't go to anything ~important~ or ~sciencey~ in school, he pursued something creative instead, and so there was inherently no chance of impressing His Father The Impressive And Important Surgeon. another part of it is that his father was also around even less than his mother was, and robert tends to be a very out of sight, out of mind person when it comes to his emotional issues, so he didn't have much of a chance to dwell on it.
i think when it comes to his relationships to his parents in general though his need for approval from them specifically kind of subdued, at least when compared to chris. it's not that he doesn't have complexes about it, far from it, it's just that he's projected a need for attention from his parents onto other people around him instead of chasing their approval forever. a part of him understands that that ship has long since sailed in a way chris doesn't.
.....this wasn't mean to get so analytical ghlaksdfds i have to rein this back in so. ANYWAY. moving onto relationships lol
so.......this is where denise comes in. i actually haven't talked about her much, but i do have a lot of thoughts on her. let's see how much longer this post can get glkasdjfklsd
this may be controversial but i think robert was shockingly monogamous throughout his first few years of university. in my head, him and denise were high school sweethearts, met and started dating at age sixteen, and got married at age twenty and expected that they'd stay together forever
needless to say that Did Not happen lmao but i'm getting ahead of myself
anyway. outside of his weird situationship with chris, robert was super dedicated to denise, and their relationship actually was mostly functional for a while. they shared a similar sardonic (and occasionally dickish lol) sense of humor, they were pretty affectionate with each other, and they had similar goals in life.......at least at first. they had a very long honeymoon period where they didn't fight about anything, they went to the same university, there was an unspoken assumption that this was a soulmate never break up situation, both from robert and denise themselves and from their friends
which in speaking of their friends, i do think that because they were married at the time (again they married way too young), denise started out as a part of the chrissandrarobert friend group, and sandra and chris got along with her pretty well. in fact robert was kind of pissed off at how well chris and denise specifically got along, lmao (he had no problems with sandra and denise's friendship, but to be fair his and sandra's relationship was far less antagonistic ahglkasjdkf).
chris and denise weren't like, super close, but they clicked pretty well with each other and they'd play that up and pretend to be best friends just to piss robert off lol. and in their defense it was genuinely funny how actually annoyed it made him (especially when they pointed out their similarities to each other......god help him lmao)
yeah remember how i mentioned chris and robert's weird situationship. that wasn't The Factor that broke up the denise/robert marriage but it certainly didn't help hglkasdjfdsf. i think denise encouraged it at first cuz she found it funny and didn't think their homoerotic rivalry was a serious threat to their relationship at first......but then sandra informed her that robert was in fact bisexual (not realizing he wasn't out to her, she assumed he'd already told her, but he hasn't cuz he had some internalized biphobia issues and thought it'd make him less attractive to her) and well. then she started to get a little worried about how close those two were lol
again this was Not what broke up the relationship, though it certainly did not help :') i don't think denise is like, genuinely biphobic, but she is heterosexual and monogamous, and she did feel a little uncomfortable seeing him pseudo-flirting with his best-worst friend knowing that there was a chance he was genuinely attracted to him. which i think is pretty fair tbh, especially since he hadn't told her about his sexuality at first
(which, granted, was more about his own insecurity than an intent to cheat, but still. the communication around this particular situation was Not Great so she never really understood why he hid it and that just added to her discomfort 🥲)
tbh i think what contributed to the divorce is just the simple facts that 1) robert's worst traits only got Worse as time went on, so they got harder to ignore/excuse (and i don't think he ever abused her or intentionally hurt her, but he did get less sensitive over the years and denise is not the type of woman to let that slide) and 2) robert's dedication to the drama society was becoming more and more of an obstacle to the relationship
i think the actual divorce happened sometime between the play that goes wrong and peter pan goes wrong. to me denise is a firey, determined redhead who already knew she wasn't okay with watching her husband prioritize a drama society that's actively hurting him and their friends, and while i think there were a few disastrous performances before that already had her wavering and begging him to quit, the murder at haversham manor was so bad that it was just the final straw for her
tbh watching sandra get knocked out and the rest of them continuing on was probably the biggest thing that had her bowing out lol
i do think she still cares about him (and sandra and chris by extension) after everything, she just couldn't handle the disregard for their own and each other's safety anymore. that was too much for her
i think she's low contact with all of them, though occasionally she'll text them to make sure they're okay cuz she does still love them. it's just too hard to have them in her life, y'know? following that, she definitely does not follow play of the week, lmao, though she is simultaneously proud, disturbed, and baffled by their tenacity when it comes to their stage presences lol
though......and this is something that i've been thinking about writing as a fic for a while now (and that may or may not still happen. we'll see lol) but i do think that she does catch wind of how bad spirit of christmas was from her current friends (including the fact that robert mentioned never getting over her and that he lives in his car), and in a fit of protectiveness she willingly breaks her own boundaries and heads over to the theater to make sure her old flame and old friends are okay :')
i think she's the one who pushes robert to move in with dennis so he's no longer living in his car. she can't let him stay with her, but she does want him to be safe and have a comfortable place to live :')
i'm gonna end this here cuz it's a little too long as it is lol but it was fun to finally talk about this :D if you wanna hear more about this just lemme know ig i have more thoughts on robert than i realized lol
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evilrwbyfan · 4 months ago
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murder drones headcanons
this is probably gonna be long sooo under the cut. Ok? ok… none of this is organized (there are categories but only 2)
some of these are based on canon but more than half are really just completely personal interpretations
first lets start with my sisters awesome headcanon
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pillbabies are not as important as adult models, so them being used as defense weapons in dire situations is normal. just recode the baby lol
a drones transition from pillbaby to drone is very simple, there is no “in between” where they are tiny drone models, it goes pillbaby to adult model. mostly to preserve metal and oil, theres only so much of that to go around anymore. this is part of the reason why workers all look the same but ages vary so drastically. in the future though, i could imagine they implement a new system where “kid” and “teen” models are made just for better distinction and for fun. but that’d have to be pretty far in the future, probably whenever they’ve all finally dealt with the corpse spires and saved as much resources as possible
lizzy is a very observational and smart person but thats overshadowed by her popular girl act (lol)
doll took an interest in photography due to her father, she uses his camera and in a way its a coping mechanism (basically bonding with him spiritually)
workers prefer heat while disassemblys prefer the cold, this makes them perfect cuddle buddies but also causes the workers to be more attracted to the disassemblys which leads to more deaths
female model disassemblys have the worst time ever trying to sit down, those legs fucking suck
absolutely stealing this from seraphont but since workers were originally miners, they work like owls. Ok? shiny = gem = attracted = Ooooooo. YAY MORE WORKER DEATH BECAUSE DISASSEMBLYS ARE ATTRACTING THEM!!!!!
THAD IS A AROACE BUTCH. ok?❤️
Khan is also a butch. But in more of a loser way. Ok?❤️ this is lesbian drones. No men. Ok?❤️
doll is a food hoarder and has an ED
doll is a huge sweetheart past her exterior and is a gentle lover, platonically and romantically, but shes still incredibly awkward no matter how close someone gets with her DO NOT PLAY WITH ME. also fuck your stupid yandere headcanons certain side of the fandom
the reason doll has so many discarded mirrors is because of them breaking due to the absolute solver (probably canon idk. we were never told why ok)
doll and lizzy never dated, but they did have hookups (initiated by lizzy) and doll had a crush on her that eventually went away due to the v situation
if they were in mlp, workers would be earth ponies, disassemblys would be pegasi, solver ponies would be unicorns, and cyn/solver would be an alicorn (uzi is the exception to the alicorn rule)
n and v are queerplatonic partners
n prefers platonic relationships and romance is a complicated thing for him, he has a hard time distinquishing between romantic and platonic and is aroflux
lizzy would want to be a mom in her 30-40s, dont ask. just a feeling i have that im very passionate about
yeva is selective mute due to trauma from the labs, the only people who she vocally spoke to was doll, nori, and her husband. alice got to know what yeva sounded like but that was because yeva's development of select mutism started around the labs, alice and yeva were good friends at one point but with the way things at the labs went they ended things off on a sour note
alice and nori never liked each other, yeva was the voice of reason (not that they listened to her unless forced to). alice always thought nori was too careless and a brute, nori thought alice was a stuck up pushover who didnt know how to let loose
before going insane, alice was much kinder. she was your basic run of the mill cowboy, still had her countryisms and everything, but she was sort of the inbetween of yeva and nori? i guess. she was nice but still had a temper, she knew when to put her foot down and stand her guard but she also had trouble speaking out against the humans due to fear. trauma made her a very cautious and anxious person which plays a part in the "pushover" aspect nori was annoyed by, she has the solver but was never able to use it the same way yeva and nori could so she was almost thrown out by the humans multiple times. yeva is a part of the reason alice never got thrown out for being "ineffective" in research, but whether or not keeping alice around was the better option is subjective. it was common for the scientists to throw away the rejects and drones who proved unuseful in experiments, so alice stayed longer than she needed to because yeva was surprisingly a good persuader. although yeva also unintentionally played a part in driving alice insane by making sure she wasnt killed/scrapped lol
alice started going insane just a little before the labs imploded which is when the relationship dynamic between nori-yeva-alice started going downhill, this is when the alice we currently know started developing
nori was cyns favorite host during the lab days which plays a part in the reason why cyn ended up liking uzi so much
lizzy and thad are adoptive siblings, femme/butch siblings. ok? i also think they're really close. like the rest of the fandom, i headcanon teacher to be lizzys father Of Course. so that extends to teacher being thads father too, but i personally think neither lizzy or thad have a close or good relationship with teacher because... come on
j and v are exes. ok? i can imagine it started at the manor and was just a one sided crush on v's part that became a requited one after becoming disassemblys. i imagined j probably became more attracted to v after seeing her efficiency in battle, j's always been someone who's very closed off (just like v) so of course she would always keep v and n at an arms distance beforehand even during the manor... so i think v being good at her job being what lures j in to get closer to her makes the most sense, i feel like j would be too busy with tessa and worrying about god knows what else at the manor to notice anything with v at the time. butttttt since disassemblys only really had each other as company, they had more time to get to know each other (i dont think they were ever distant necessarily, but their relationship manor vs disassembly is very different to me). technically, they never officially broke up til episode 8 since j was "dead" since the pilot... but if they WERE to break up before episode 8, i'd personally say episode 2-3 because at that point in time they'd be on opposing teams and other factors just couldnt make it work
DOLL. HAS. ANGER. ISSUES. passed down from her mother. i feel like doll's personality aligns more with yeva's but her interests and small habits align with her father more, but changes from trauma overshadows a lot of the type of person she was beforehand
v is stronger than n but n is stronger than j, ok. ive seen so many people who hc n as stronger than v and i just cant see it At All im so sorry... i do think hes strong, i just cant see him stronger than v
alice's tail is a handmade prosthetic but i guess thats technically canon
love languages: n: gift giving/receiving, quality time v: words of affirmation, acts of service uzi: quality time, words of affirmation j: acts of service, quality time doll: physical touch, quality time lizzy: physical touch, gift giving/receiving thad: quality time, acts of service alice: physical touch, words of affirmation yeva: acts of service, words of affirmation nori: quality time, physical touch khan: quality time, gift giving/receiving tessa: physical touch, acts of service not doing everyone
thad is 100% a comic nerd and its something he and uzi bond over, uzi is more of a manga kid but it overlaps ok
nori totally played flash games when she was younger if she could have
tessa: i was born way after that i had an iphone 70 as a kid (something i read from a tessa blog that i think is really funny)
uzi is a larper and into dnd but i personally dont know anything about dnd i just know she would like it and rope v and n into it, they would probably all love it
doll has bpd, uzi has bpd, v has bpd, j has attachment issues, n has autism, khan has ocd (they secretly all have autism though)
j has a routine she follows everyday. what is that routine? im still figuring that out myself, but it was definitely disrupted due to the events of episode 8
doll is very emotionally devoid due to the effects of trauma kind of forcing her to be that way but i can imagine shes actually incredibly emotionally sensitive
khan tells dad jokes, n laughs at them
uzi exploits in games she plays and is smug about it, i think she uses it to troll rather than cause actual harm though cause shes just not that kind of drone
both n and j like board games, always have, it was probably one of the main things they bonded with during the manor days
tessa is the type of girl to hide her diary/journal under her bed instead of a drawer -- BRAIDON STUFF BECAUSE HE GETS HIS OWN SECTION CAUSE ALL OF THIS IS PRE-WRITTEN EXCEPT LIKE 2 THINGS: doll and braidon are adoptive siblings, braidons family adopted doll sometime around episode 5 and like Ok yeah this doesnt make any sense its something me and my sister came up with and ended up getting attached to
doll and braidon have a very rough relationship but he cares very deeply for her while doll is still learning to trust him, this whole adoption thing is really confusing we never went in full detail with it
He enjoys classical music. His name is usually misspelled as "Braiden" which makes him angry, he quickly corrects others with annoyance.
personality traits: nerd, logical, takes things literally, believes in spirituality, pragmatic, realist, extrovert, impulsive, reactive, talkative, stubborn, decisive, collected, calm, has a short temper, smart with technology, tech smart, honest, gullible, believes in higher power
tone: direct and to the point, doesn't spare any details, goes on long rants sometimes, sarcastic
likes: technology, ranting, talking, spirituality, literacy, reddit, tumblr, tidyness, proving himself right, phones, classical music
dislikes: stupid people --
putting this all the way down here because of the nsfw aspect:
if this were to ever happen or ever be a thing, workers would be the ones who “go into heat”. NOT. DISASSEMBLYS. disassemblys are loners who were programmed to focus on killing and only that, workers are the only ones who would need to “go into heat” because they are being killed off at rapid paces and need to reproduce as fast as possible to keep their species alive
ok thats all for this post. i definitely have other headcanons but i cant think of any others and it would be crazy if i tried to put every single headcanon i have ever thought of in 1 post
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fictarian · 2 years ago
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Could i request Hobie w/ reader who struggles with expressing their emotions?🫶
𝐇𝐢𝐦 <𝟑 . ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ 𝐏𝐭. 𝟖
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ღ I’m not gonna lie, I had such a hard time thinking of how I would portray the reader since there are multiple reasons as to why someone would struggle with expressing themselves, but I ultimately decided on making the reader reclusive, quiet, and VERY awkward. Shout out to my introverted and socially awkward followers, we’re in the same sinking boat 🔥
ღ This kind of strayed from the original request so that’s MY BAD (me when ADHD)
ღ Also, here’s the update on the votes for the next series— It’s currently tied between Miles (both 1610 and 42) and Pavitr Prabhakar, BUT, Spider Noir is currently in the lead. The voting ends when I post part 10 of ‘Him’, and that’s when I’ll choose the winner. So if you haven’t already, go ahead and vote here
ღ Good lord i’m running out of banners, maybe this is my sign to do another profile theme change
ღ Pervious part can be found here !
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• It’s a mystery to everyone as to how you and Hobie started dating, given that you both are polar opposites. And to be honest, you have no idea how you managed to bag him either LMFAO.
• You probably met him at the local record store while you were browsing through some of your favorite albums when Hobie suddenly came up to you, asking if you knew where a certain artist was. You didn’t respond to his question for a good couple of minutes, since you were still trying to comprehend the fact that a fine ass, 6’3, punk lover was actually talking to you and you weren’t dreaming.
• When you did respond, your answer came out in a jumble of loud incoherent words (y/n ahh 😭). Of course he didn’t understand what you were saying, so you repeated yourself MUCH quieter, and that didn’t help at all.
• In the end, you just pointed to where the albums Hobie wanted were located before hastily turning around while cursing yourself for fumbling so badly.
• I like to think that Hobie often hangs out with loud and extroverted people, so seeing someone that was the complete opposite of that was refreshing for him (no matter how awkward the situation was). And honestly, Hobie found it cute that he made you react like that from just him talking to you.
• So when you were at the counter paying for your albums, best believe that Hobie came up and payed for your shit as a way to engage in conversation. You did NOT know how to react to that, especially when Hobie only winked and slid you the receipt. He turned it over, which revealed a collection of numbers in messy hand writing.
• “Go head and add my number f’me, love” Your jaw dropped, causing Hobie to chuckle before he pushed himself off the counter waving goodbye to you before exiting the store.
• It took you awhile to actually message him, since you had no clue what to say. But talking to him on phone was much easier in your book, since you didn’t have to rely on your voice much and the thoughts that usually ran through your head in public were slowed.
• You started out with a simple hey and a thank you, and the conversation started from there. Since it was over text, you became a lot more at ease and relaxed while talking with Hobie. However, some (if not all) of the texts he sent made you giggle and kick your feet like a school girl 💀.
• At one point Hobie began flirting and soon, you became daring enough to flirt back.
• ‘Daring now, aren’t we? I bet you wouldn’t say all of this face to face ;)’ ‘Watch me’
• You eat those words when you two set up a place to meet up, and Hobie starts teasing you about the texts you sent NONSTOP. His teasing only makes you act worse and public, and somehow increases your stuttering x10.
• And even when he isn’t teasing you, every single thing Hobie says still makes you trip. For example, when you’re talking, and then he asks you in his deep and gritty voice ‘Speak up f’me, love. I can barley ‘ere a word that comes outta yer pretty mouth’
• 🧍
• Despite your differences and how easily it was for Hobie to make your brain rot, you two grew quite close over a short period of time.
• He’d always push you to do more things and meet more people, and even if it doesn’t work out, Hobie would always praise you for trying and getting out of your comfort zone.
• Hobie would he very supportive and patient with you, since he knows how difficult it is for you to properly get your words out. But even then, he still LOVES teasing you and seeing just how easily he effects you.
• Overall, Hobie would be your #1 hypeman and biggest supporter while also managing to be the reason of your demise
tag list ! @zalayni @luvstarrstruck @jrrantss @pixqlsin @kairiscorner @k4tsu3 @asmobeuses @maxoloqy @miirene
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ticklygiggles · 2 years ago
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Day 1 - Ginny's Birthday Extravaganza
A/N: We have Victuuri for the first drabble/lil fic from Ginny's week! I hope you enjoy this baby! I love you very much!
Summary: Yuuri feels insecure during the off-season because certain boyfriend of his is acting weird!
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Yuuri hated himself. Oh, he despised himself. Loathed himself. He knew very well how fast he gained weight during off season and he was never really bothered by it, yes it was a hassle to get back in shape, but with Minako-sensei’s help and his own determination, he could easily do it.
He never really didn’t mind gaining weight… until he started dating Victor. 
Victor, not only his new coach, but also his lover, knew about Yuuri’s little trait during the off-season. He has seen it after coming to Japan from Russia for the first time; he had helped Yuuri lose weight himself, so Yuuri never thought that Victor would actually feel troubled towards him for getting softer, until he started to notice the changes. 
They were hard to see, honestly, but Yuuri was an anxious person, self-conscious, and an overthinker, so any change, especially related to Victor, could be easily noticed by him in a second. First, he started to notice how Victor looked at him less, barely meeting eyes when they spoke to each other, let alone having his eyes checking him out like he usually caught him doing. Then, he noticed how Victor started to touch him less: the hands on his waist, thighs and hips were all gone, if he was lucky he would get a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, but even during bedtime, Victor wouldn’t hold him tight against him like every other night.
This situation was eating Yuuri alive. He was restless. Kept awake at night and felt extremely shy around Victor, almost scared of being in his sight. He did notice Victor talked to him as always, bright and vibrant, but Yuuri just couldn’t brush off those anxious thoughts filling his mind due to Victor’s behavior towards him. 
He could lose weight if that was what Victor wanted, but could he, at least, treat him like he normally would? Could he be gentle and sweet and loving towards him? Did he find Yuuri that gross? He wanted to know, he died to know so he was just mildly surprised when certain words suddenly burst out one day:
“Victor, do you hate me?” Yuuri asked one afternoon, standing right in front of Victor as the russian sat on the couch, watching a movie. 
Victor’s eyes widened widely and he was quick to hold Yuuri’s hands between his and something jumped warmly inside Yuuri’s chest. 
“Why do you ask me so, Yuuri?!” Victor said, almost breathless. “How could I possibly hate you?! What do you mean?”
Something akin to relief spread across Yuuri’s chest, but if Victor didn’t actually hate him, then why was he acting so strangely now? 
“Because… I gained weight,” Yuuri said in a shy whisper, avoiding looking at Victor’s eyes as he felt his cheeks getting warm. “You… are distant. Perhaps you hate me because I look like this now?”
Victor blinked, staring at Yuuri with a tumult of emotions before he started to laugh. Yuuri raised his face to look at him with wide eyes, the blush on his cheeks deepening. Was Victor laughing at him? Was he really-
“Oh, my Yuuri,” Victor said, cleaning a single tear from the bottom of his eye with the back of his hand. “How could I hate you for that? On the contrary,” he said, his cheeks also turning pink. “I would say... you’ve bewitched me even more so with this new version of yourself.”
“W-What do you mean?”
Victor gently placed Yuuri’s hands over his cheeks and Yuuri flinched slightly when Victor looked up at him with tenderness in his eyes. 
“Yuuri, you really do not know what you do to me, do you?” Victor asked dreamily, looking at Yuuri. “You look exceptionally adorable, cute, irresistible, with your off-season body,” he said, letting go of Yuuri’s hands. 
“Haah!” Yuuri gasped when Victor’s cold hands sneaked under his shirt and gently grabbed his plump waist. 
“I can’t take my eyes off you for a second, Yuuri, but when I notice you looking my way, I quickly turn around,” Victor explained, giving Yuuri’s waist a tender squeeze that had him gasping and squirming slightly. “My fingers itch to touch you, my beautiful Yuuri, but I was scared you’d feel uncomfortable somehow… perhaps I shouldn’t make assumptions and simply ask you, hmm?”
“You are right,” Yuuri said, feeling true relief rushing through him. “I thought… you were grossed out by me.”
Victor smiled, letting go of Yuuri’s waist to grab the hem of his shirt to stick his head right under. Yuuri flushed to his neck, gasping Victor’s name.
“Did I make my sweet Yuuri feel insecure?” Victor asked, his lips pressing a tender kiss to Yuuri’s warm tummy, making him shiver. “I’m so sorry. I am the worst, Yuuri. I truly am. You are gorgeous.” Another kiss had Yuuri lurching his hips back, his hands moving to hold Victor’s shoulders. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I love you so much, there are not enough words to express my love to you.”
Yuuri felt the corners of his lips trembling as he felt Victor’s lips brushing his navel. “A-Ah, Victor! That… t-tihickles!”
Victor chuckled under his shirt. “You are so sensitive, Yuuri. Is your tummy more ticklish like this?”
“W-What? N-No, it’s- ahahaha! N-Not tihihicklihihing!
“I’m not tickling you, Yuuri,” Victor said and Yuuri could hear his big smile. “I’m just kissing you, Yuuri. Mwha, mwha, mmmmmhwa!”
Yuuri doubled over, laughing brightly as Victor placed kisses all over the soft skin of his stomach, blowing a raspberry here and nibbling there. He tried to push Victor out from under his shirt, but his lover had started squeezing his waist and Yuuri’s knees went weak. Victor quickly pushed him down onto the couch. 
“Will my Yuuri forgive me? I’m truly sorry, Yuuri,” Victor said and Yuuri could hear the sincerity of his words, but he could also feel those nimble fingers tickling his tummy and sides and waist, making him laugh loudly. 
“Vihihityahaha!” Yuuri laughed, squirming and trying to catch Victor’s hands. “Plehehease! 
"Yuuri, I am so crazy about this body of yours, but this spot," he said, grabbing Yuuri's hips. "I wanted to touch it the most." 
Yuuri shrieked, throwing his head back with nearly hysterical laughter as his legs kicked and his body arched and jerked around. Victor was pinching his hips, vibrating his fingertips against the warm skin.
"Nohohot thehehere! PLEHEHEASE!" Yuuri cried with laughter, hands latching to Victor's wrists; tears of mirth clinging to his long lashes as he weakly tried to push Victor’s hands away. 
The tickling stopped right away and Yuuri shrieked, tensing right up thinking that Victor would attack somewhere else, but he was surprised to feel warm lips pressing to his smiling mouth, kissing him chastely. Breathlessly and never capable of resisting Victor’s kisses, he tried to kiss him back, shaky hands cupping Victor’s face. 
“I love you, Yuuri,” Victor whispered against his lips. “I love however you look. Please don't ever doubt my love for you, Yuuri. I'm sorry."
Yuuri's eyes were filled with tears and the most adorable pout adorned his lips. 
"Ouch!" Victor said, hissing when the slap Yuuri gave him in the shoulder started to burn. "I- I deserve it, yes."
"You do!" Yuuri sobbed, closing one of his eyes when Victor's thumb cleaned his tears. "I thought you didn't-
"I know. I am sorry, Yuuri… You're so breathtakingly beautiful, I hope you know."
Yuuri pouted more, but he nodded, holding tightly onto Victor. "I love you."
"Me too, my lovely katsudon."
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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 11 months ago
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A while ago someone called Joseph wrote a comment on my post Picky women are not the (sole) cause of the failures of the dating market. Joseph insisted that women on the present-day dating market are actually very picky, and that they are showing it outright. 
“Women these days seem to see themselves as a prize and often act like dating is 'for them'. They expect the guy to make the moves, make the plans, put in most if not all the effort in an attempt to 'win them over'.”
Joseph reasoned that this is a relatively recent phenomenon that has developed during the last few decades. All in all, he argued like someone who was difficult to ignore. 
So I started to investigate the issue as scientifically thoroughly as possible: By watching high school movies with my family. First I watched some high school movies from the 1990s and then a couple of brand new ones for comparison. The movies I saw supported Joseph's claim. The girls depicted in the late 1990s movies were clearly more agreeable than those in the modern movies. In the high school movies from the late 1990s, high school was a universe of its own, centered around friendship and romantic love. The girls did their best to be nice and attractive, sometimes to the degree that they became stereotypically stupid bimbo girls. 
By contrast, in the present-day high school movies (which are, by the way, not called high school movies any more, but teen movies) I watched, high school was a bleak place the protagonists aimed at going through in order to get to college. During the course of the movie, the female protagonists learned that there actually is something more to life than studying and getting to college: There can be some friendship and love in high school too. 
Not pleased to meet you
Beside my very scientific comparison of movies, I have another reason to believe that young women have become more unpleasant as dating partners: Not a very long time ago, I was a young woman myself. And in that role, I learned a few important things:
In every situation, young women need to exhibit a certain dose of unpleasantness. 
The appropriate dose of unpleasantness is highly dependent on the situation. 
Situations where casual sex is common require the most unpleasantness. More or less, there is a sliding scale where the appropriate dose of unpleasantness is proportional to the possibility of casual sex to happen. For a young woman, some situations require a tough, unpleasant surface, while other situations allow naive openness.
For that reason, I find it entirely plausible that the dating market of today requires more unpleasantness than the dating market of a few decades ago. If the possibility of casual sex has increased, the perceived necessity for pleasantness is likely to have changed too. 
I guess that most young women don't even notice how they are fine-tuning their variable levels of unpleasantness. The only reason why I noticed that thing when I was a young woman is that I sometimes failed spectacularly in putting in the right dose of unpleasantness on the right occasion. Only that way it became evident to me that young women need to be more unpleasant in some situations compared to others. 
When I was young, I was in a slightly unusual situation compared to most young women. I spent most of my time looking unavailable to men, accompanied by husband and children or visibly pregnant. And then, occasionally, I would get out into the world all alone, looking like any woman of my age. At such occasions I had a tendency to act naively and to be over-friendly. I was so used to being protected by my matronly status, that I was unable to adapt when I temporarily went out of it. 
For example, once when I was 22 years old I left Anders and our baby son in order to travel to Berlin to find an apartment for us. I boarded a budget flight all alone. A man was sitting on one row of the airplane. He was about 35 years old, blond with an Eastern European look and a hard, serious face. He wore a t-shirt with a cross symbol on it (some Polish right wing symbol, he would explain). He made eye contact with me and signaled for me to take the seat next to his. 
I complied. Not because I liked anything about him; just because I had forgotten how to say no to people. With a baby by my side, I didn't need to say no to people. Instead, I needed people to help me lift a pram over staircases and on and off buses and trains. The year with a baby had brought me out of synch with the task of rebuffing sexual advances. I wasn't reflexively unpleasant anymore. Not even a little. So when a man made eye-contact with me, I just approached him. 
When I realized my mistake, it was difficult to get out. We tried to make conversation, but Right Wing Man From Poland apparently wasn't a man of words. He bought us ridiculously expensive icecream, without asking me if I wanted it, and I felt obliged to eat it. I was trapped like an animal and I was being fed like an animal. It certainly wasn't my life's most socially graceful moment. 
With time, and after a few more mistakes of the kind above, I learned that suddenly regaining my shape after pregnancy and leaving home without a baby left me unprotected. After every pregnancy, I had to gradually build up my levels of unpleasantness again. On the occasions that I just threw myself out into the world, I was initially too defenseless. 
Personally I don't like to be unpleasant. So with time I learned tricks to avoid that obligation. Most of all, avoiding socializing during night time was an important rule to follow. Curiously, in Western societies there is a strong, invisible norm that flirtation should be done in the evening. Like if evenings and nights are “sexy time”, as Borat says in his eponymous film. In the Muslim world (the limit line is at the Bosporus, in my experience) there is no important difference - all time is sexy time there. But in Europe, most men restrain themselves during daytime. Just avoiding social settings during evenings and nights did the trick to a remarkable degree. 
Rules no more
In the casual sex market, men have the role of beggars. A few are robbers, a few are entertainers, but most fall into the beggar category. Basically, men who try to obtain casual sex use the same tactics as beggars tend to use: They use their targets’ instincts for friendliness to catch their attention. Then, when they have got the target’s attention, they steer the topic into casual sex/money for nothing. For that reason, young women need to learn to be unfriendly to men for the same reason that people in general learn to be unfriendly to beggars. 
When group A wants something from group B that most members of group B do not want to give, someone needs to be unpleasant. Either there needs to be unpleasant rules saying that members of group A are not allowed to ask members of group B for what they want. Or the individuals of group B need to act unpleasantly themselves. 
Laws against begging are a case in point. Banning people from asking for money they might desperately need is unpleasant. It also prevents the minority that feel good from giving money to beggars from doing what they like. Laws against begging moves the obligation to be unpleasant from individuals to society as a whole. 
I think the same principle applies to the casual sex question. Either society makes unpleasant rules and norms that protect young women from requests for casual sex. One obvious price for such rules is that a minority of women who actually want casual sex will miss out on opportunities. The upside is that young women will not have to be unpleasant themselves. The rules will be unpleasant in their place.
What happens when rules for relationships are abolished one by one? What happens when everything is allowed, as long as it is consensual? Then the burden to say “I consent” or “I do not consent” lies squarely with the individual. Individual women need to radiate “I do not consent”. [...]
20 years ago, when I was on the dating market myself, there were still rules of fair play. A young woman who naively dated a handsome man only to discover that he dated several other women simultaneously would be justified to blame him for being dishonest. Today, she would need to feel stupid because she didn't discuss the terms with him.
In the dating environment from 20 years ago it was also considered entirely normal for women to be naive and even a bit stupid. People knew that such an attitude could pay off. There was even a stereotype for that, called the bimbo. The bimbo only cared for her looks. And she was pleasant. That way, she hoped to be taken good care of. 
Where have all the bimbos gone now? The bimbo look has gone so mainstream that the word became obsolete. Fake nails, thick layers of make-up, hair extensions and platinum bleached hair was considered conspicuously superficial two decades ago. Now it is normal. But the credulous personality that was supposed to follow that look is completely out of fashion. Feminism did not only give ordinary women the right to stand up for themselves. It obliges them to. Because no one is doing it for them.
Being unpleasant is probably not the best strategy for a young woman to signal that she stands up for her own value. Thinking hard about what she is looking for and searching out where to find that sounds like a more sympathetic strategy. 
Needless to say, all people are not good at thinking hard. Especially not around emotionally charged issues like romantic love and sex. In a situation where people are asking for too much, unpleasantness is the instinctual reaction. And when the elaborate cultural conventions for how to build relationships have been abandoned, instinct kicks in. 
When one group wants more than another group wants to give, someone needs to be unpleasant. In civilizations, society tends to take on more and more of that role: It collects taxes so local strongmen won't have to. It removes criminals from the scene so ordinary people don't have to lynch them. And, for long times, it also upheld norms for how expensive sex should be, so ordinary women did not have to signal how awfully expensive they were. 
Those of us who ask for a more pleasant society should be careful what we wish for. Many times, we only get more unpleasant individuals instead. 
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pboogerswbb · 7 months ago
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Ok I am so sorry this is so late, there's been a lot going on and I had some much pent up anger towards H*nn*h H*d*lg* I could not put pen to paper. Also you need to add this chapter to your masterlist its missing!
First of all I wanna say I wish I did reactions this whole time, this has been one of my favourite stories and I love your writing, I cannot wait for the new fic! Also I know you said it will be a while but I am so excited for an epilogue for this story. I am a softie at heart and I always love when there is an epilogue on a fic that flashes forward.
Ok onto the review!
We are all in agreement that BDB stands for Big Daddy Bueckers right? right?
Ok can I just say that I absolutely love how you gave actual reasoning for Paige being a player/toxic. It drives me crazy when fics have her being toxic for no reason - as it is completely opposite of everything Paige has made known about her personality. Giving her reasoning of being afraid committing to someone will distract her from basketball and that in turn she doesn't think she'd be a good partner to someone while focusing on basketball was just a really good approach to the situation and made a lot of sense. You did a great job here!
"You’re really milking that Unrivaled ad huh?" LOL. But seriously something about those ads is so UGHHHHHGIMMEENOWWW I want her to do more acting she's so hot and funny.
“Paige I’ve seen the folder on your phone full of lil things like that for you to say. You’re not that slick,” HAHAH SLAM ON PAIGE
Ok Val lowkey being a bit of a bitch about this dress situation before the date. But maybe I feel that way because I am absolutely a Paige in this situation and would forget to warn my girl to dress a certain way depending on the activity.
“I googled uh, romantic foods" this feels very in character
“Really? Now you wanna have that conversation?” I ask annoyed. -> Ok neither one of them is handling this well at all
"With that she leaves, no kiss, no hug and she’s gone. Just like she will be in a month or so." -> Stab a dagger in my heart why don't you
She scurries to me from behind the bar counter, and hugs me tight. -> why is the word 'scurries' so funny here
Ok this whole visual of them kissing and hugging at Teds is very very cute. This whole scene is actually I love it.
I can't blame Paige I have made a gf quit a bartending job before. Am I toxic 😂
KK and these handcuffs I can't. Does she even know they are a sex toy or did she just think they were cute 😂😂
“Hurry, P,” she whines, her hands wrapping around me from behind me as she kisses my upper back, making me see stars already. -> ok you described this so well because why is it SO cute when a girl does that
WOWEEE your smut is top tier. No notes. You have convinced me to buy some handcuffs.
“You alive mama?” Paige grins as my eyes slowly flutter open, watching her bring me water and a small present wrapped with a blue paper and white ribbon. -> Ok Paige's aftercare is so cute
“Girl you better not be proposing because I think it’s a lil early,” I joke, making Paige let out a heartfelt laugh. -> ya but you'd say yes if she was don't play
Well, as I said I have absolutely loved this fic. The story was great, it was funny, it was realistic, and it was so damn hot. You are amazing and as I have already said I am SO EXCITED for your new fic. The synopsis has me hooked already and I love fics where P is out of college and actually living life as an adult with her own apartment not beholden to Husky rules lol.
xoxoxo 🤱🏻
sorry it took me forever to get to this I LOVE THESE SO MUCH PLS JOIN THE BOOKCLUB IF YOU WANT TO EVEN A LITTLE BIT <333 it’s my favourite thing everrrrr
hopefully the epilogue of so it goes was up to par!! ty for all the kind words 🫶🏻
• yes BDB is big daddy bueckers - i don’t wanna hear anything else
• omg yess it’s such an ick for me if in a series paige is toxic for no reason!! we need character development and we need reasoning!! my characters will always have a motive i can tell you that much
• val lowkey would be me i’m so annoyed when people aren’t organised and prepared 😭 like that would annoy me too
• HAHA val scurries bc she’s so short it makes sense in my head
• if you are of age handcuffs can be… great 😇
• yeah val would say yes probably
AGAIN TYSM i love when you guys do these so much i’m starting a new tag for these
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princess-of-the-corner · 1 year ago
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Honestly, the more you talk about it, the more I want to hear about Endeavour's PR. Who's on it, like, number of people? What is their main stance before Enji starts turning his life around? What do they fight him on? Which specific thing finally gets him to fire them? Plus, which poor sap finds himself suddenly going from note-taker to head of PR (you know there had to be at least 1 decent person in there that never got promoted, but actually supports what Enji's trying to do).
HONESTLY LIEK
it's fuckin.
Enji kinda has just. Hired PR people in general and gave bare-minimum instructions and trusted them to know what they're doing. So it's a combo of letting them have free rein on things he doesn't feel he has time for (like letting them handle every time the media accuses him of having an affair or having a bastard child, overall management of his twitter page), or taking their advice on ways to improve his image in the eyes of the public(this can range from 'covering gray hairs' to 'fielding which charity events he attends as he can't go to all of them').
But ofc this has kinda swung into the PR team kinda.... either assuming his wants/viewpoints to make statements, and/or them telling him what's 'right' based on their own feelings vs. what he wants. And Enji is just dealing with so much else and the whole point of hiring them was 'handle this so I don't have to' that he rarely checks in to keep an eye on things. (which is how he doesn't know gay people exist even though the last like 4 years have been spent with the media accusing him of having an affair with Hawks lmao).
And I have two thoughts on things where the PR team acts without Enji's permission that leads to a complete 'scrap the fuckers and start over with more checks in place'. Like there's /more/ on the whole, but these are the only two I have specific thoughts on
One is- I have a specific scene planned out for this where it's Enji gets dragged out with Midnight and Snipe's drinking night, and this is post-finding out about gay people which those two are aware of him being queer. So they're suddenly getting notifications of his twitter posting something even though he's right there and not on his phone so they're like 'uh you might wanna check this out'.
Enji's kinda surprised because usually the PR team does get /some/ permission before speaking for him, did kinda say 'yeah just handle certain things without notifying me'. And it takes him a minute to even realize what they posted as, having only known gay people exist for like a month, isn't up to date on subtle homophobic phrases like 'traditional family values'.
ofc he immediately borrows Midnight's phone to use her twitter and post a response video of 'fuck off, my PR team posted that and I will be talking to them because I am here for the lgbt community'.
Which yeah opens up him investigating into that and finding subtle and less-than-subtle things that they've been doing for his image. And while it might have /technically/ helped keep his popularity up, it does against things he thinks are right.
And the second incident is bigger which is. Idk if he finds out through investigation or if Natsuo says it after Enji has worked to gain back some trust but like.
A little bit after Toya first 'died', Natsuo did try to go for exposing the fact that Enji is a bad parent and trying to get that info out to the media and like get cps involved and such. But the PR team caught wind of it and shut it down HARD. Very guilt-tripping, threatening, and even bringing the Commission into this situation to prove to the kid that nothing would be done, and if he continued to try then, well. The middle child isn't usually missed all that much.
Enji is. Very. Very pissed at this. The not telling him, the fact that they threatened his kid to preserve his image. The fact that this contributed to some of the family drama because Natsuo assumed Enji knew and had them cover for him when, again, he had no idea at all and would've taken Natsuo's grievances a hell of a lot more seriously if he did.
It's. It's a LOT.
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pancake-lovy · 3 months ago
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my dear, Raven with an S
request: no
pairing: Doris Hecat x Silas Reed
content: about 3k words, pretty cutesy, a short mention of possible danger, they're in the Forbidden Forest, playing with water in autumn, a date for birthday, picnic date, use of magic for candles, kissing, holding hands, dancing together by the river, let me know if I forgot to write something down
summary: Doris may have almost forgotten his birthday. She always finds a way to fix it, just like now... But perhaps, she has fixed the situation a bit too much this time.
my note: I may have to spell check it again later on...
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It was October the twentieth, the trees were losing their leaves - and those have already turned brownish or orangish by that time. The grass was slightly covered with them, only adding to the warm colours surrounding the place. Thankfully, the sun decided to visit the place and allowed the two teenagers not to freeze from just walking through the Forbidden Forest. Yet, no one else beside the two of them seemed to be there. It was only for the better, as the two would have said. Because of that, the silence stayed between them until they were only few steps away from the place of their planned ‘date’.
“Should I be concerned about where we’re going?” Silas questioned, watching the girl. He held her hands the entire time, as he followed her barely without any hesitation. He didn’t even need to be convinced back when they were still in the school. But the farther they’ve walked, the bigger his smirk has been growing. Because how crazy it was that a girl like her has chosen that place as the one of his birthday present?
However, maybe the word ‘crazy’ was not perfect, considering that he knew well enough that her looks didn’t really fit her behaviour and so on. The brunet also knew that, in general, people can be different than what others assumed they were. Yet, he was still surprised that she was only walking deeper into the forest, acting as if it was the most normal thing ever. Or like they couldn’t walk into some area with spiders, goblins, or other creatures living their lives until they’d be able to attack them.
“No. It’s safe. Well, as safe as it can be in the forbidden forest. But we’re fine. And it’s going to be amazing! I promised you that I’d do something big for you, since I’ve almost forgotten about your birthday.” Doris explained, shortly turning to face him before only pulling him faster after herself. With her words, she has only confirmed his last thought, and that she herself has known how dangerous it could be.
Despite that, her smile was almost denying anything and everything that the Forbidden Forest was usually associated with. And in her mind, she was only repeating that the terrifying creatures wouldn’t be interested in the two of them going out for a picnic in the forest. That still didn’t really comfort her, so instead she came back to that perfect date in her mind. At the same time, the both of them have sped up their walk, as if the time was about to get cut short. Even though, the sun was still high up and the sky was still so beautifully blue, and so light that it almost matched the clouds on it.
The only thing that was still certain was that the birthday was not going to be ruined. She has already given the small part of his birthday present to the boy, and she has spent the last hours of the day on making the place perfect for him. It couldn’t get destroyed within the few minutes that it took them to walk back here. She was sure of it, because if it wasn’t true, then, it would have happened to her before now. And she has yet to experience any of that! Including losing her things in the forest or watching them be destroyed by whoever could be wandering around the places she’s been in.
“Yeah, you did. You also haven’t said anything about what you did or where we’re going. And looking at you, I feel like I’m not dressed for the right occasion. So what is it, gorgeous?” With his eyes on the girl, Silas waited for anything to left her pretty lips. His attention was only separated between that and remembering the path they’ve walked so far, so he could walk them back properly without asking for her help.
However, even after loudly voicing his thoughts, he hasn’t gotten the answer. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, before groaning in an overdone matter. The brunet tilted his head to the back, too. A smile came back to his face, immediately after hearing her chuckle. After all, it was an almost hypnotizing sound, one that was always charming his heart with each passing second. Then, he walked a bit faster, wanting to catch up and walk by Doris’ side. He also moved his arms to wrap one of them around her body. Of course, keeping his arm far enough to not make her uncomfortable or nervous, or well — to not cause any other negative reaction from her. But part of him knew that Doris was more comfortable with him than other men, since they’ve been close friends for the past few months.
After a while, they’ve stopped in front of a small area with less trees. The boy saw a circle-shaped table with a picnic basket standing on top of it right away. Within the next second, he also watched as the candles have lightened up and have flown into the air around them. He gently raised his eyebrows at that romantic atmosphere, not believing for way too long in everything that’s happening. His eyes only for a short second, as short as his own breath was back then, darted towards his ‘date’. Although he wasn’t shocked per se, because he has already figured out some logic behind this magic. Yet, the whole situation seemed purely unbelievable to him. And when the other teenager let go of his hands, Silas only walked closer to the table. He checked the food inside the basket as if to know whether it’s real. But he could barely stop himself from eating something.
“I suppose you like it?” Doris spoke up, watching him from the space next to the table. Each second, she shifted her body weight from full feet to only her tiptoes. The corner of her lips stretched across her face, and into a bright smile. Her eyes seemed lighter, too, much brighter than the sun alone could have ever made them. “You may taste them, if you want. I don’t mind, we will start eating it at some point anyway.”
And so later, they’ve taken their seats and focused more on the food. The girl listened to him, as they’ve been eating. Just in case he talked about the food, so she could share the comments with her brother. She would love for Reed to enjoy it, but she also knew that Roy would appreciate a compliment or two for his kitchen anyway. She herself knew that it was fantastic. She didn’t need another reason to think so. That’s why her attention didn’t leave Silas just for it to be on something else. And when the satisfaction showed on his face, she only became more glad that she didn’t destroy his birthday by forgetting about them for the entire month before it.
“I’ll let Roy know, then. To be honest, I don’t even know why I was worried that you wouldn’t like that. I knew that he’s amazing at cooking.” A short, partially nervous, laugh left her lips. She gently stretched her arms by her side, pulling by the sleeves of her pink shirt. If the boy leaned closer, she was sure that his own fingertips would be touching hers. Despite everything, Doris stayed careful of the candles surrounding them. Since she wouldn’t want to accidentally catch anything on fire… even if it would be pretty easy to stop anything from getting worse.
“Roy’s, um, he’s your brother, right?” The Reed teenager mumbled, putting the last bits of the food into his mouth. He glanced up at her from between his eyelashes, simply swallowing the rest of the sweet. One that seemed to whisper into his mind to take more, and more. His eyes for a second stopped at her lips, before coming up to her eyes. A smirk have slowly grown on his face. He was more than happy to talk about her family, mostly because he knew how important all of them were for the girl sitting in front of him. Partially, because he wouldn’t mind to know more before meeting them officially.
Yet, Silas could easily tell that he no longer had her attention. When he followed her gaze, there was a small river running past the forest. It was filled with leaves in many different colours — even if most of them were brown. He must have agreed with her that it was a view worth being ignored for a moment or for a few moments. But before he was able to speak to the Hecat teenager, the girl’s blue hair came to his view, while also moving farther away from him. Then, he watched as she has thrown her shoes on the ground without a single care for what would happen later.
“So our location changed yet again, and now we’re going to make our own version of the Rapunzel story?” He whispered, knowing that she was already too far away from him to hear it properly. So he just stood up from his chair, closed the basket with dirty dishes inside it, and followed her towards the river. Then, he added to his previous words a more teasing comment, while his eyes observed her with the same adoration as whenever she has laughed or smiled. “Oh, my dear, Rapunzel. Do you wish to let down your hair for me?”
“I’ve heard you. Which Rapunzel version are we talking about? Cause I’d rather you didn’t end up completely blind. Or do you wish I carried two children for you?” She questioned, kneeling over the river with her feet inside it. Her hands slowly moved through the water, catching a leaf that has caught her gaze or pulling an exceptionally beautiful rock out of the river. Then, Doris tilted her head back up to focus on the brunet instead. “And I doubt my hair are long enough to carry you.”
With the time passing, she was only focusing more on the leaves in the river than the boy next to her. She ended up putting the leaves together in a line, and then, tying them together at the very end. After that, Doris slowly leaned closer to Silas. But before she kneeled on the grass itself, she watched as he himself moved. She ended up kneeling on his jacket instead, which softened her smile more. It was cute that he cared so deeply, and technically unnecessary, about keeping her clothes clean.
She didn’t think more about it, and just put the little crown out of the leaves on the top of his head. With her fingers, she brushed away some drops of water that wanted to fall down to his eyes. She was still kneeling in front of him, feeling the warmth of his body. Thanks to her gently holding his face in her hands, because what else could she be doing? Especially with the way he was still gazing at her, like she has just given him the moon and the sun. As if it was called, the sun began moving down the sky, which turned more orange with each second. So she pulled away from the teenager once more.
“I would hope it’s not the first one. Since I’m not so sure that your tears are as magical as you are… Or your hair.” The Reed boy whispered once more, sitting on the ground next to the river. He stretched out his legs towards her, not caring whether his shoes would end up wet. He leaned on his arms and kept them behind him during it. However, his eyes were still on the blue-haired teenager, as he was unable to stop himself from admiring her the entire time that he could do so.
Later, the brunet smiled proudly with the little crown made by her on his head. He himself saw the way the sunset took over the sky and the entire place around them. Because of that, he stood up along with Doris, shaking off the dirt or anything else left from the ground on the jacket. He put the piece of clothing back on, knowing deep down that some leaves and dirt would be still on it. But he didn’t mind it as long as having his own jacket dirty meant that the girl wouldn’t scratch her knees or get her stockings dirty.
Once they were both ready to go, Silas pulled the teenager closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her, mostly to keep her warmer than she’d be with only her clothes on. They kept talking between one another, as they grabbed everything and walked back to Hogwarts. Inside the castle, Silas dropped Doris off in front of Fat Lady’s painting and, well, her common room. He pressed a short kiss against her palm as a goodbye. Both of them didn’t comment on how the leaf-crown almost fell of his head, only sharing a small smile because of it. And then, he himself returned to his dormitory with his mind filled with images of his previous meeting with Doris.
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