#stop making women's issues look like a fucking joke

[jacaerysgf]

Undeniable Desire

c.w season two spoilers; characters (addam and nettles), mention of dragonseeds (nothing more), loss of virginity (jacaerys) non virgin reader, smut, fingering (fem), oral (fem), p in v, clothed sex ?, possessive jacaerys, not proofread

summary: You are dragonseed and have become good friends with the prince. You think nothing of it and not expecting your desires to lead to anything but when you speak of what you think of your future his truer colors show.

w.c: 1.8k

a.n: anybody else cant stop thinking about bridgerton LMAO, i need to rewatch soon, anyways i hope you all enjoy :3 promise im getting around to requests i just needed to push out this idea 🥰 LOVE YOU GUYS

You finally manage to shake off addam and his drunken rampage with a laugh telling him off. “come on you cant leave yet.” “I am going to bed you fool leave me be.” You knock him upside the head and he groans giving you the opportunity to walk away and turn back to the rest of them with a wave. Chimes of goodnights and sleep well are what your met with and you walk away, feeling eyes burning into you you turn back once more and see him staring at you with an unknown look on his face, taking a drink out of his chalice ignoring alyn next to him who was talking his ear off, not even sparing him a glance as he continues to stare at you.

You turn around attempting to ignore how your stomach burns and your face heats at the thought of him. Jacaerys Velaryon. You just like the rest of your ‘dragonseed’ friends have grown close to jacaerys during your time together. Yet you can’t help but feel their was something different about the way he looked at you and even other people can’t help but notice it either.

‘He is definitely wants to fuck you.’ ‘Nettles!’ The girl next to you laughs before chugging down her wine. ‘Do not say such things.’ Addam walks over and drops down to the spot next to you, ‘what are you two talking about?’ ‘The prince.’ ‘ah and how he wants to shag miss oblivious right here.’ ‘did you guys plan this?!’ You in your frustration rip the cup out of addams hands and chug it. ‘its not our fault he makes it so painfully obvious and you are so painfully oblivious to it.’ You shake your head and keep your gaze at the campfire in front of you. ‘It is not true.’ you don’t see the way the pair look at each other and instead start picking at the grass near you.

Even if it was true it wouldn’t matter, you certainly had no intention of sleeping with him. He was betrothed and he certainly did not seem like the type of man to lay around with any women he saw fit. He was the crowned prince for gods sake the heir to the queen and you were in the middle of a damn succession war feelings be damned and you were certain your friends were just playing jokes on you and he certainly just saw you as a friend.

You think nothing of it as you are getting ready to go to bed, just having put on your night gown after your bath, when the flap of your tent opens and you turn to it alarmed and let out a sigh of relief when you see him. “I am sorry i did not mean to disturb you.” “It is no issue my prince, Do you need something?”

You turn back to the mirror and fiddle around with your hair, eyeing the prince through the mirror. He just stares at you for a moment and takes a drink from his cup, you gulp and look away from him, pushing down your own desires attempting to stop your imagination from running wild. What if he just walked over to you and pushing you against the mirror, ripping off your dress and having his way with you, maybe he would drop to his knees and wrap his lips around your pearl, only letting go until you were withering and begging him to stop.

You shake your head and “Would it be selfish of me to admit i missed you? i feel as though we did not talk much today?” You smile lightly at his words and curse yourself for thinking such terrible things. Of course he simply just wished to see you, as he had been busy with his duties all day, only getting to see you all at the end of they day only for you to leave before getting to say a single word to him.

“You honor me my prince with your time.” He shakes his head with a laugh taking another sip, “i would give you anything in the world.” You flush and look down, fiddling with your dress too embarrassed to move from your place in front of the mirror. Hes just being dramatic you think, he does not mean what he says, especially since he seems to be drinking. “You are too kind my prince.” “Call me Jace i beg of you.” “Would you truly beg me?” “I would get on my knees at your feet and do whatever you asked.” Your knees shake as you press your thighs together, the heat between you legs almost unbearable, a part of you wants to shoo him away so you can put your hand between your legs and take care of yourself or find some poor soul in the camp to relieve yourself with. You don’t, you cannot simply ask him to leave for such selfish reasons, especially since you know deep deep down that if you sought out somebody else you would only be thinking about him.

He seems to realize you don’t plan on saying anything so he begins to speak. “You know they were all talking about something.” You give him an interested look in the mirror and he takes another sip, “About what they were planning on doing after this fight is over. Do you have any thoughts? About what you plan to do?” You look up in thought, “I haven't given it much thought if im being honest.” He hums but says nothing. “Maybe i go off to the reach, it sounds very lovely.” “You would not stay in the keep?” You laugh at his idea and shake your head, “Why would i stay there? What would you miss me?” He says nothing and you don't look at him, instead continue talking, lost in your own imagination. “I would probably travel around for a bit, then find some lord to marry he fuck some babies into me and then i live the rest of my life-” You gasp as your suddenly pushed against the mirror being completely trapped by him, you hadn’t even registered the cup being thrown to the ground.

“My prince?” He flips you around suddenly and your eye to eye with him. His hands grip your waist and pull you directly against him. “You will not leave.” “I don't understand-” “You are not going anywhere you will stay by my side.” He has an animalistic look about him, like he's about to eat you whole, completely bewildered by the idea of you leaving. “I have no place in the keep.” “Your place is by my side.” His words have such a finality and certainty about them as if he's giving you no reason to argue with him. “You are to be married, This is highly inappropriate.” Your words are pushed out like puffs of air as his hands have moved up to your chest, rubbing your nipples through the fabric, you can feel him hardening between your legs. “I shall take you as a my second wife, no one will argue i will be king.” “You are being absurd.” “Do you desire me?”

You pull him into a heated kiss. He quickly reciprocates, his hands moving from your waist to under your night gown and he lets out a delighted hum at the liquid on your thighs. ‘Are you bare?” “I was planning on sleeping.” He moans lightly before he pauses before actually touching, “Do you want this?” you nod feverishly, “Please touch me please.” wasting no more time he runs his fingers along your folds, “This is for me right? and no some stupid pompous lord in the reach.” “yes yes.” You answer him but he doesn't seem to be listening, mumbling to himself in anger. “I hate the lords in the reach, always with each other heads in their asses no way you will marry any of them, let them put a baby in you.” He sticks two fingers inside you, “I wouldn’t i wouldn’t only you.” The pit in your lower stomach grows as you watch in shock him drop to his knees in front of you, his body being lost to your gown as he begins to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers moving quicker to pump in and out of you.

You cannot speak so much of his name. Using one of your hands to cover your mouth to not draw attention to yourself, the other plays with one of your tits, sliding it under your dress. He does not let up, even has you orgasm once then twice, only releasing you after the third time and you fall back, leaning against the mirror with wobbly legs as he keeps a tight grip on you holding you up as he stands. You can see the shine of your own essence on his lips and jaw, you swear you can even see some of it dripping down his neck into his collarbone.

He simply stands there and watches you fiddle around with his pants to free him for a few moments as he licks his lips. “You do not know how often i have thought about this.” You look up at him and give him a smile, “You think of me?” “Every minute of everyday, my waking thoughts and my dreams are only filled with you.”

Before you know it he is pushing into you with a hiss and you chuckle with a delighted moan at his closed eyes and clenched teeth. “First time?” “I may not have been your first but i will be your last.” Giving himself a second to get used to your pulsing warm walls that seem to be sucking him in every second he begins to move. Hes a little sloppy, clearly unsure and if anything a little unconfident about what he’s supposed to do. You place your head on his neck, making sure your lips are right next to his ear and you begin to move your hips to meet his, moaning in his ear only for him to hear.

He gains confidence after a few moments and soon enough you have no longer and need to meet him as he begins to pound into you diligently. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his tunic as the pit in your stomach grows once more. “please tell me your close.” You’re shocked he’s even managed to last this long but nod and he groans in delight. “Please peak please together.”

The mirror behind you is completely covered with a foggy mist just as your eyes are when you finally release. You pray as you catch your breath that you two were quiet enough because you would rather be dead than me made fun of by your friends for finally fucking the prince. But as you feel his seed running out your lips and down your thigh you decide maybe it was worth it.

--

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese

[holylulusworld]

Every breath you take (12)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, abandonment issues, crazy reader

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every breath you take (11)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Friday came and went. All your hopes died because you bought the new dress and dolled yourself up for nothing.

Sadly, Bucky had to cancel your next date. He told you that he must help his friend on what he called a mission.

You understood that some things are more important than a date, but it felt like the world crashed down on you hearing these words come out of Bucky’s mouth.

He didn’t even come around to tell you face-to-face. Bucky called to cancel your date. Since that day, you haven’t heard of him.

It’s been six excruciatingly long days since you last heard of him. No call. No smile. Not even a damn postcard. You’d accepted smoke signals too.

Checking your phone again, you sigh deeply. You left the curtains open and touched yourself for almost an hour, but nothing happened. Your plushies are the only witnesses to your naughtiness.

It’s another Thursday night, and you haven’t heard of your secret admirer yet. He missed your sex date and didn’t send any gifts.

You huff, frustrated. How dare he leave you hanging like that? You had something special, and now you are all alone on your bed, with a slicked vibrator and your plushies as your only company.

“Wait for it,” you curse, and suddenly sit up, slamming your fists into the mattress. “You can’t treat a lady like that, Sir. No way!”

“Did you at least call your date? I hope you know women don’t like it if you don’t show up for a date.” Sam jokes as Bucky is hurriedly running upstairs. Not only to bring Alpine home but to get his phone too.

He had to leave it at home to prevent anyone in his contacts from being in danger if he lost it. Well, he only has you, Sam, and his therapist in his contacts.

“I didn’t have the chance, Sam. I only called her last Friday to tell her I wouldn’t make it to the date.”

“Sheesh, I hope you didn’t lose the girl over this unnecessary mission,” Sam huffs, and runs his hand over his dirty face. He didn’t have a chance to change clothes or take a shower. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this shitshow.”

Bucky swallows thickly. After he planned a future with you, coloring it in the brightest colors, he cannot lose you. “She won’t break up with me over a missed date.”

“Oh, you are going steady already?” Sam cocks a brow. “You didn’t tell me it’s getting serious. I’m going to be your best man, right?”

“I’ll think about it if you never stop me from going on a date with her again,” Bucky grumbles. He can’t wait to check on the footage he recorded over the last few days and to see you.

“Alpine, punk!” Bucky shoos his cat away. He tried to catch up on what he missed, only to find his cat sitting on the remote control. “Shush, I need to hear—”

His heart stops beating for a second when he hears you cry. You tell your plushies that you believe that your secret admirer lost interest and that Bucky canceled your date.

“No, doll,” he sniffles. “Baby…doll…don’t cry.” His features darken when he switches to the livestream. You’re packing a suitcase and three duffle bags, stuffing all your favorite plushies into one bag. “What is she doing?” He pumps up the volume, but he can’t hear anything. “Fuck!”

Alpine hisses because Bucky jumps up. What if he missed something? What if you are going on a vacation or, worse, move out?”

He panics. “Fuck, Alpine, we got to get her today!” Bucky says this and quickly looks around the room, wringing his hands.

There’s nothing worth keeping, but a few things from the past he always kept in an emergency backpack. He walks toward the laptop, grabbing it before he calls for Alpine to jump on his shoulder. The last things he grabs are the plant he bought and the backpack before storming toward the door.

He doesn’t look back. Bucky won’t miss the apartment. This place was never home to him. Maybe no place will ever feel like home again. The apartment was a necessity, nothing else.

Bucky holds his breath. After storing his things in his car and telling Alpine to sit in the passenger seat and not make a fuss, he decided to follow you around town.

You’re currently dragging your suitcase behind you, huffing and muttering because your feet hurt like hell. You had hoped your secret admirer would show up when you walked around town with your suitcase and bags.

“Fuck,” you curse, and stop walking for a second. You look left and right. A noise caught your attention, and you feared someone else, but your secret admirer followed you.

You step backward when the person following you steps out of the shadows. He sighs and shakes his head when you get your phone out to throw at him.

Bucky easily catches your phone and gives you an apologetic smile.

“It’s late, and you shouldn’t walk around in the dark all alone.” His eyes darken when you cross your arms over your chest.

“What?” You huff and give him the stinky eye. “Wait! You didn’t stalk me for a week. Where have you been?”

Bucky gasps. You know he’s your secret admirer, and you don’t seem afraid at all. “What? I…” He can’t fathom that you are mad at him for not stalking you.

“We have a routine, sir. I leave my bedroom curtains open so you can get a glimpse of my cute bottom, and I get off imagining you will break into my apartment to eat my coochie!”

Bucky exclaims loudly. “What the fuck!”

“You can’t change our routine out of the blue. Thursday nights are there for our sex dates, Bucky! How can you just disappear and not even call me?”

“Sex dates?” Bucky starts to sweat. He looks around the deserted street, asking himself if this is the right moment to grab you. Moments ago, he wanted to take you with him, but now he’s unsure. Maybe you’re out of your mind at the moment because he didn’t call you for over a week.

You stare at each other for a moment. Bucky looks unsure and swallows thickly.

“I got the bags with me for a reason,” you say, pointing at the duffle bags slung over your shoulder and the suitcase standing next to you. “Now, chop-chop and kidnap me! I want to see your home!”

Part 13

Tags in reblog.

[velvetvexations]

I guess Plaidos is doing that thing where she unblocks me to reblog me again lol.

Accusing me of pretending to be a trans woman is in fact misgendering me. I am a trans woman. I provably have a voice that can only belong to a person AMAB or someone who's tried very hard over a long period of time to masculinize their voice, so if I'm not a 'TMA' person, you must be necessarily be accusing me of being a man, although it would not be any better if you were saying I was any other kinna non-trans woman either, because it's still misgendering to say a trans woman is faking being a trans woman regardless.

You're misgendering a trans woman when you say I'm not a trans woman. You literally said me claiming to be a trans woman is the same as a conservative man making an attack helicopter joke. You can apologize for that at your leisure.

Extremely conceited. You come up on my blog fairly infrequently, but you have over fifteen times the followers I do and what you say has reverberations in trans discourse, so sometimes I get anons letting me know what new hornet's nest you've kicked off. I don't look at your blog because it makes my skin physically crawl. The fact that you're an Actually Popular Trans Woman on Tumblr, unlike me, means that you're going to get talked about occasionally because every time you say some dumb shit your gaggle of idiots is ready to enthusiastically vomit it at the other minority groups you call slurs.

Sincerely, get the fuck over it, you're either a prominant transfeminist literary analysist or you aren't.

It's literally a content warning, because you're a hateful and offensive person, but it's wild I should even have to defend that since 'transfeminists' will tag posts hating on me on a regular basis for no particular reason.

If you actually do go through that tag, you'll see that I tend to only ever talk about you in response to people bringing you up first, or in the case of you misgendering me, you talking about me first. The only real exception is that I made two posts about the Dropout discourse you blatantly started for attention, which was (a) still brought to me by anons since I'd not have known you were responsible for that otherwise and (b) a special interest of mine I was really fucking pissed off that you were fucking up with the bullshit that special interest was an escape from.

I'm not sending anyone to do anything, moron.

Your vanity is not charming. I've talked about you lately in direct response to you talking about and misgendering me. You are discussing me too dummy.

I don't think you should be transmisogynistically harassed, but I'm absolutely fucking not responsible for someone with fifteen times the followers I have getting backlash to things like defending a 4chan slur for non-binary people. Like, no, actually, someone taking issue with that is not on me, and considering what you think counts as transmisogyny, I'm not really sure I even buy your characterization of said backlash, especially if they're "directly referencing" anything I say.

Completely unsupported by your behavior! Do you remember when you were randomly like "if you're wondering what velvetvexations is up to, she's saying you can call trans women hysterical because they don't have uteruses" when that was not what I fucking said?

I've tried making the same "I'll never mention you if you don't mention me" offer to people who obsessively stalk my blog before, including people who I would never talk about anyway because they don't have nearly the same presence on this website. I've asked them to stop screenshotting my blog and lying about me and getting anons sent to my inbox as a result. I've reported them to Tumblr, who doesn't consider it harassment. Each time the people stalking me - which is what they were actually doing to me, unlike me occasionally commenting when someone tells me you've caused some new discourse - was laughed at and told I simply deserve it or bring it upon myself.

Once again, you position yourself as a serious transfeminist activist and you have the following to back it up. You have influence in the conversation around transfeminism and as a trans woman I have a right to talk about it. Tell people to stop parroting your every word, or better yet, entirely stop kicking at trans men and non-binary people literally every day. Like literally every day you do this, it's why I can't look at your blog because it fucking repulses me.

You don't do anything to help trans women. You don't care about trans women. You care about being cruel to other trans people and using that to prop up your own crumbling ego. I would love it if your opinions weren't unfortunately popular and constantly being widely disseminated among others, but like, they are, and it's fucking disastrous for everyone involved. I don't hate you more than any other dumbass radfem.

I've helped TERFs deradicalize and retransition. You will never in your life do a quarter of what I do for transfeminism. The most you will ever accomplish is being an aggressive contrarian who's too unoriginal to come up with headcanons that weren't popular with transmascs first and claiming it a win when you say they're too stupid and shallow to interpret art correctly.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

[buryhny]

One Night Stand ; 06

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n → contains smut, fluff and angst → Chapter Six ; wc | 4.1 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

"Fuck," you cursed as you threw up into the toilet, clutching your stomach in agony. The excruciating pain made it even worse. you assumed it was the croissant, but how? You've been eating one every day for breakfast for over a month. Suddenly, the restroom door burst open, and in walked Jeon Jungkook. 

He briskly checked each stall until he found you. "Ms. Lee," he said with concern, surprised to see you in this state. "What are you doing here?" you managed to ask, wondering if he had any ulterior motive. Was he really here to help? But then again, why would CEO Jeon Jungkook lend a hand? Despite your skepticism, he seemed genuinely concerned. "Mr. Jeon," you acknowledged, but before you could say more, he cut in.

"I've got something to tell you," he said. You couldn't care less about his news. He was standing in the women's restroom, watching you vomit and look miserable, he couldn't find himself doing nothing when you certainly look like you're in pain, so attempts to help you out but then stops, considering your distaste towards him, he'd rather not lend a hand and just stand beside you for, emotional support, although he just wants to get back to his meeting after informing you about his greatest discovery.

"Fuck," you muttered, standing up from the ground and cleaning the stall before heading to the sink to wash your mouth and clean your face. you're grateful for the high maintained washrooms, it made throwing up easier and a lot less messy. You rinsed your mouth several times, but the aftertaste lingered stubbornly on the tip of your tongue. Your makeup had washed off, leaving you with a pale, sour face. 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve and turned around to meet the eyes of a curious man who stood behind you with his hands inside the pockets of his linen pants. "Why are you still here, Mr. Jeon?" you asked, touching up the little matte lipstick that seemed to have left it's tint on your lips. Jungkook clicked his tongue,

 momentarily forgetting why he was still there. He walked to stand in front of you, leaning against the counter of the women's washroom, he was relieved no staff member had walked in to misunderstand the situation the both of you were in. "I've got important news to tell you," he began. "It can wait," you interrupted as he separated his lips to voice out the whole issue.

"No, it can't," he insisted with a serious expression that indicated something significant. But what could be so important that he had to tell you immediately? and in the women's washroom? You had a strong intuition that he might fire you, and frankly, it seemed justified. Considering the numerous meetings you'd disrupted, causing inconvenience not only for yourself but also for other staff members, it was understandable. "Just tell me you're going to fire me," you said. "It makes sense—"

 "You're pregnant," he interrupted bluntly. He spoke without hesitation or emotion, his words though were a matter of fact. a blank expression sits on your face hearing his words. you think you didn't actually hear him right. the man realizes he had caught you off guard but he didn't really care. He wasn't the type to sugarcoat things or offer a 'congratulations.' You stared at him, disbelief and confusion mixing in your mind. How? When? Whose? Of course, he was joking. You chuckled, trying to laugh off the serious atmosphere he had created. "That's a nice joke, Mr. Jeon! You almost got me with that one," you said, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. 

Jungkook sighed, looking frustrated. "This is not a joke, Ms. Lee. I've been informed," he said, his tone now carrying concern and sincerity. His gaze, darkened eyes and furrowed brows, distracted you from laughing. You stopped as your breathing quickened. "What do you mean?" you whispered. "Who told you and when?" "You passed out during the meeting. The nurse did a check-up and informed me," he explained. "That's not possible!" you whispered, utterly confused. 

There was no way you were pregnant. You hadn't had sex for almost two months and weren't in a relationship. Jungkook looked away, rubbing his forehead roughly. He was trying to make you understand the need for check-ups, but you weren't listening. You gripped the granite counter, trying to process his words. Pregnancy? And you? No way.

"This is not possible, Mr. Jeon!" you exclaimed, your laughter trailing behind your words. He glanced at you, alarmed by your behavior. Stepping closer, he furrowed his brows and stared at you intensely, clenching his jaw. "That is not my concern, Ms. Lee. You need to check it yourself." He muttered as you met his gaze, which brought back memories of that one night. No, no, don't think about it, y/n. 

Passing out and throwing up can't mean you're pregnant, right? "And how sure are you about the nurse's words—" Jungkook cut you off, frustration clear. He didn't care about you or your potential pregnancy. He was only concerned because you kept disrupting his meetings, jeopardizing his reputation, not because of the pregnancy itself. "Why can't you understand?" He moved even closer, reducing the distance to just a meter. The air grew thick with tension, and the proximity made you uneasy, reminding you of that night you hated recalling.

"I don't give a f- about it, Ms. Lee. Just go for a damn check-up and stop ruining my meetings! My reputation is at stake." His closeness allowed him to catch your lavender and vanilla scent, stirring memories of that night. But now, those memories annoyed him. Maybe he enjoyed them initially, but not anymore. 

Something about you irked him now. He could feel your breath quicken, and his harsh words scared you as you fiddled with the hem of your office skirt, in fact you were just trying hard not to yell back at him for his tone. He glanced down and then back at your eyes, deepening his frown. Neither of you liked standing this close. 

"You can take the day off," he mumbled bitterly before leaving the washroom. As he stepped out, an employee was about to enter. She bowed when she saw Jungkook but he didn't acknowledge her. The woman, 'Sana,' was stunned by what she just saw.

"Mr. Jeon in the ladies' washroom? How the he—" When she entered, she saw you standing frozen, barely blinking. "Ms. Lee, did I just see Mr. Je—" you stormed out, leaving Sana confused but curious. She grinned wickedly, smacking her lips as she washed her hands. "Mr. Jeon and Ms. Lee in the ladies' room? Now that's news!" she chuckled, eager to spread the gossip.

Meanwhile, you tried not to overthink. It seemed impossible for you to be pregnant, but the thought wouldn't leave you. Various scenarios ran through your mind, terrifying you. You didn't want to see anyone; you just wanted to run to the gynecologist and hear them confirm you weren't pregnant. That would be the only way to calm you down. You grabbed your things and hurried to the elevator. Rosè looked at you, puzzled by your abrupt departure. 

On the ground floor, Hoseok approached you with a wide smile, "Hey y—" but you didn't stop. Hoseok tried to follow, but Jimin held his arm. "She's got something to deal with, let her go," Jimin said softly. Hoseok turned to Jimin, surprised. Jimin himself was shocked, sensing something was wrong after Mr. Jeon had left the meeting room to follow you, an unprecedented event.

Hoseok nodded at Jimin's words and walked to the cafeteria. He considered texting you to ask why you left but decided against intruding on your personal matters. He wasn't a close friend yet, and if you wanted to talk, you would have reached out.

Hoseok

Hey, I hope you're okay :)

You rush to the nearest hospital, not having the time to book an appointment with the best gynecologist. This is a simple doubt, and you need it cleared up immediately. Pregnancy is not an option for you right now. The thought of becoming a mother feels overwhelming and you are not ready for that responsibility. It's definitely not something you want for another 10 years.

Numerous thoughts race through your mind, and you desperately want them to disappear. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, fear gripping you tightly. "Good after—" "Is there a gynecologist available right now?" you interrupt the receptionist. "Have you booked an appointment, ma'am?" "No." "Let me check. Any specific doctor you need?" "Anyone is fine, but preferably female," you reply hastily. The receptionist notices your anxious demeanor, glancing between her computer screen and your face. "Dr. Kim So Hee is available.

Your appointment can be scheduled for 3:45. If that's okay? " You check your watch: it's 3:20. You have to wait for 25 minutes. "Alright," you agree. You sit for five minutes, but your anxiety only grows. The thought of having a child sends chills down your spine. You have so many plans—this can't be happening. "Shut the fuck up, y/n!" you whisper to yourself, trying to halt the intrusive thoughts. Time seems to crawl, each passing minute intensifying your panic, especially as you watch couples enter and leave the consultation rooms.

The waiting room feels unbearably sterile and cold, its white walls and the faint smell of antiseptic doing little to soothe your nerves. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems louder with each second, a constant reminder of the uncertainty looming over you. You clasp your hands together tightly, your knuckles turning white, as you try to steady your breathing. Each deep breath feels like a futile attempt to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

You glance around the room, your eyes darting from one anxious face to another. Couples holding hands, some whispering to each other, others sitting in tense silence, all waiting for their turn. You feel a pang of envy at their shared burden, a sharp contrast to your solitary wait. The sight of a young woman emerging from a consultation room with a relieved smile only heightens your sense of dread. Your mind races with a million thoughts—what if you are pregnant? How will it affect your future? Your career? Your dreams? Each question feels like a weight added to the already heavy burden of anxiety pressing down on you.

The thought of having to make life-altering decisions fills you with a sense of helplessness and fear. "Shut the fuck up, y/n!" you whisper to yourself again, a desperate attempt to silence the chaos in your mind. The harshness of your words barely masks the fear and uncertainty underlying them. You rub your temples, trying to push the intrusive thoughts away, but they persist, gnawing at your composure.

Time seems to stretch endlessly, every second feeling like an eternity. The door to the consultation room opens and closes repeatedly, but it never seems to be your turn. The anticipation and the wait compound your anxiety, making it harder to stay calm.

You sit alone, panicking and trying to calm your racing mind. The uncertainty of the situation and the weight of the potential consequences hang heavily over you, creating a suffocating atmosphere. You struggle to maintain a semblance of control, fighting against the rising tide of panic that threatens to overwhelm you. 

You immediately stood from your chair when the nurse called you after almost what seemed like a year. You walked inside the room, taking a seat when you've been gestured to. The woman looked at you with a beautiful smile on her face making the atmosphere feel comfortable especially since you're panicking a little extra.

"Ms. Lee Y/n?" the nurse calls after what seems like an eternity. You quickly rise from your chair and follow her into the room, where a kind-looking woman motions for you to sit. Her warm smile eases the atmosphere slightly, though your nerves are still on edge. "How have you been?" the doctor asks. You want to say you're terrified, but instead, you respond politely. "What's the matter?" she continues. "I'm not sure what to say, but I've been told I'm pregnant, which doesn't seem possible." She looks puzzled, not quite grasping your rambling explanation, but she quickly notices your nervousness. She exhales, attempting to make eye contact, though you keep averting your gaze.

"Why does someone think you're pregnant? Have you noticed any symptoms or anything unusual?" You swallow hard, recalling the times you felt different. "I-I passed out once and threw up today." "Those are significant symptoms-" "Have you been feeling fatigued, or noticed any changes in appetite?" "Y-yes." She nods, jotting down the symptoms while you struggle to hold back tears. "Have you taken a pregnancy test?" "No." "that's okay, come with me."She guides you to the bed, lifts your shirt and skirt, and performs a pelvic exam, glancing at you a few times before nodding. You sit up and adjust your clothing, looking at her anxiously.

"What's wrong, doctor?" She nods, trying to find the right words as she notices your panic and emotion. "I think we should do a blood test. It appears you might be pregnant." Your heart sinks at her words. This isn't what you wanted to hear. The urge to throw up rises again. You blink back tears, trying to process the news. "B-but-" "When was your last period?" The doctor asks, and you frown, trying to remember. Oh no. You realize you haven't kept track and it's been a while since your last period. How could you forget? "I-I haven't had one for a while. But I didn't have sex! I'm not in a relationship." You speak quickly, not understanding how this happened.

The doctor now clearly sees something is wrong from your behavior. It's obvious you don't want this child. "When was the last time you had sex?" she asks gently, choosing her words carefully, staying calm while you are panicking and fighting back tears. Your chest tightens. "I don't rem-"

You froze in your seat, staring blankly at the wall. You clenched your fists so tightly that they left fresh marks on your palms. The room suddenly felt frigid, making you feel uneasy, dizzy, and on the verge of throwing up again. The thought of being pregnant filled you with dread—it would be the worst mistake of your life. "A-about 2 months," you whisper once you find your voice, and the doctor nods with a small smile.

"But this can't be," you insist. "We used condoms, it's definitely not possible. I'm sure we were safe." Flashbacks of that night flood your mind, and you blink rapidly to hold back tears. You had denied the possibility until you remembered the condom had broken. But how could you be pregnant? He's nothing to you, and this child would be nothing to you or anyone.

"It's surprisingly easy for women to get pregnant sometimes, with or without a condom," the doctor explains. "A broken condom makes it even more likely." She sighs, stands, and moves to sit beside you, placing a comforting hand on yours. She understood you, maybe not completely, as she had a husband and children, but she had seen many patients in similar situations. She squeezed your hand tightly. "Maybe you should take a pregnancy test for confirmation, but I strongly believe you are pregnant. Don't stress too much about this, take your time to think it over." You nod, then quickly ask, 

"Is there any way I could...get rid of it?" You feel ashamed for asking, but you need to know. "That would be an abortion, considering it's probably around two months. Before making any decisions, take your time to process it." You nod again, stand up, thank her, and rush out. You just want to get home as soon as possible. The tightness in your chest feels suffocating. Pregnancy. What is pregnancy? A new life, a completely different future. It wasn't part of your plan. Your five-year plan didn't include pregnancy—or even a boyfriend. How did that condom break? He's your boss now, and the seriousness of this situation is overwhelming.

Anxiety consumes you as you rush home with several pregnancy tests from the pharmacy. You've never been this impatient before, pacing back and forth, fingers crossed, hoping for a negative result. All you can think about is your career and your future plans, none of which involve a pregnancy. After a minute, you hesitate, not wanting to look but needing to know. You finally check the tests, praying, "P-please God-"

You squint before opening your eyes wide and dropping the stick. Two dark red lines. You grab the digital test—same result. Even the third test shows the same. You collapse to the floor in tears, curling into a ball. There's no one in Seoul to talk to, no one to lean on. Pregnant? At 23, with no boyfriend and no support? You cry for hours, unable to stop. Why did you have a one-night stand with him? That one night of pleasure has turned your life upside down.

Once you calm down, you take a warm shower, change into your pajamas, and lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling. So that's why you've been feeling off. You are pregnant. You turn to the side, hugging the avocado plushie your mother gave you years ago. Its softness and your warm tears make you miss your mom more than ever. You ponder and cry for so long that time slips away—it's already 8 pm.

You have no energy to cook, order takeout, or even walk to the convenience store. You feel nothing, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. You must inform Rosé that you need to take leave. There's no way you can face Jeon Jungkook. He knows about the pregnancy, a pregnancy that involves him. The thought disgusts you. You pick up your phone from the nightstand and check your texts.

Hoseok

hey? you good?

He surely sensed the tension when you just passed by him. You're not sure how long you could hold this secret inside you. You can't possibly tell this to anyone, not your family for sure, but also not your friends. You're left alone in this matter and it's for the better of it.

Y/n

hey hoseok, I'm perfectly fine! Just feeling a little sick,

will meet you soon.

You sent Rosè an informal text that you will be taking a leave and you also sent a short email to Mr Jeon. You threw your phone away and looked out the window, please let the night pass fast...

-

One day of leave turned into two, and then four. You couldn't bring yourself to get out of bed, so you kept extending your time off. After four days, you finally returned to work, not wanting to stay home any longer. Your place now felt uncomfortable, almost making you nauseous. During those days, you delved deep into pregnancy research. You had never done this before, baby fever was never a thing for you. The last time you looked up anything similar was almost a decade ago when you were 14 and curious about 'How do girls get pregnant?'

But now, things were serious. You found yourself Googling, "What should I do during pregnancy?" You counted the days, realizing that the next week would mark eight weeks—two months—since you conceived. How did two months fly by so quickly? How did you not notice your missed periods? How could you be so careless? Reading article after article on pregnancy terrified you. Is it too late to take any pills? You wondered, collapsing onto your couch and staring at the ceiling.

Isn't it too late? you asked yourself, but then your mind wandered to work, finances, career, and dreams. There's still so much you want to achieve. You sighed and closed your laptop. It was 5 am; you had woken up early to research for the umpteenth time. Deciding it was time to get back to work, you changed into your work clothes. Maybe returning to your routine would help distract you from this overwhelming situation. You desperately needed the distraction.

It's a relief that no one questioned you anything or was curious about your leave. Rosè did ask you if you were fine and you responded to her kindly, appreciating her warm words.

"Hey! Hey what's the matter?"

Hoseok approached your desk, leaning on it and looking at you with genuine concern in his eyes. It was comforting to know he cared. You gave him a soft smile, which he mirrored. You hadn't texted him since that night, and he was clearly worried. "I had an emergency situation, Hobi. I'm totally fine," you lied, and he nodded, understanding that you didn't want to go into details. "Did you have breakfast?" he asked. 

"I did, I woke up early and made myself avocado toast." "Mhmm," Hoseok moaned, imagining the taste. "Didn't bring any for me?" he teased. You gasped, feeling guilty for mentioning it when he hadn't had breakfast. "I'm so sorry-" "Chill, I was joking," he laughed, his joy infectious. After days of crying and dark thoughts, his presence lifted your spirits.

The day passed calmly, and the satisfaction from your job brought a sense of normalcy. This is why the idea of pregnancy was so frightening—you are career-focused, and motherhood wasn't in your plans. You were relieved not to encounter Park Jimin or Mr. Jeon, as seeing them would only complicate things. The past four days had confirmed your pregnancy despite your denial: blood tests, multiple pregnancy tests, research, and symptoms all pointed to the same conclusion.

Work was busy, with two engaging projects keeping you occupied and making time fly. Hoseok reminded you to pack up, offering to stay until you finished, but you insisted he leave. You needed to complete at least 80% before heading home, and working in the office provided a peaceful escape from your overwhelming thoughts.

"Ms. Lee?" you heard a man's voice. Turning, you saw Chun Seo at the door. "I'll leave soon, I promise," you said. It was his seventh time urging you to go home, but you continued working overtime. "Ms. Lee?" you heard again, this time with more insistence. You sighed deeply, thinking Chun Seo had returned.

"I said I'll leave once I'm done. How many more times will you tell me to pack up?" you replied, annoyed, typing faster. "Ms. Lee?" The voice didn't belong to Chun Seo. You looked up and saw Mr. Jeon. Shit. You'd been avoiding him all day. 'Stay calm, Y/n,' you thought, blinking rapidly. He stood at the doorway, casting a dark shadow in the dimly lit room. "Y-Yes, Mr. Jeon?" you mumbled. He walked in, and you immediately stood to bow before sitting back down to finish your work. "May I ask why you're still here?" he inquired, eyeing your unpacked desk. 

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your answer. You gulped and looked away from the screen. "I will leave as soon as I'm done, Mr. Jeon. I'm almost finished." "Who gave you permission to overwork?" he asked, tiredly. He was clearly exhausted from a long, rough day and frustrated by your disobedience. Normally, he wouldn't grant leaves easily, but knowing your situation, he had made an exception.

"I missed work and didn't want to delay the projects," you said softly, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. His face remained blank. "Work ends at 6pm. Follow the rules, pack up, and leave," he said exasperatedly. "Sure, I'm do-" "I said now," he interrupted, his tone sharp. You flinched, feeling anger rise. These were his projects, after all. You stood up, letting the chair screech loudly, which made Jungkook cringe. "Attitude in check, Ms. Lee," he warned. You rolled your eyes, hoping he didn't notice—but he did.

"Sure, Mr. Jeon." You couldn't believe this was the man you had slept with. This man was the father of the child you were carrying. Fuck him and his child. He stood up straight, dropping his office bag and putting both hands in his pockets. "I don't mind if you stay and overwork, but if anything goes wrong, I don't want my business held accountable. Employee safety is my priority," he stated.

You stopped packing and looked up at him, making eye contact for a few seconds. "All I wanted was a change of atmosphere, but I guess I can't have that," you muttered. He scoffed and looked around. "Take the company laptop to a cafe, but work ends at 6pm. It's now 8." "Okay, I've heard you. Can't believe you were that guy," you mumbled under your breath, packing your laptop and iPad into your bag. Unfortunately, he heard every word in the silent building.

"Blame yourself," he muttered, picking up his office bag, ready to leave. You gaped at his words, shocked by his ungratefulness. "How is he the father? Fuck my life," you whispered as you slung your bag over your shoulder. Jungkook stopped and turned around.

"Pardon?"

next chapter ⇢

[artdonaldsonbabygirl]

Sooooo, how do we feel about Art getting felt up in the Stanford locker room?

Warning: quite a bit of feminization - Art is referred to as pretty girl, good girl and they refer to him using she/her pronouns multiple times

Art had started shaving all over at MRTA where he'd heard from another guy on the team that it would make you more aerodynamic. Patrick had teased him about it every single time but every guy on the academy team was aware that Art was completely clean shaven.

Of course starting at a new school meant a new selection of teammates. Ones who Art had not effectively grown up with. As such it had been a shock to them the first time they had figured out Art shaved all over. A few guys had teased him for it, calling him a girl but as no girl had ever had an issue with it Art didn't take any of this to heart.

As term went on the more comfortable they all got with each other. An arm thrown over your shoulders or a pat on the back after winning a particularly challenging match was nothing unusual.

"Fuck," Art swore as he stretched his arms out above his head. He must have pulled a muscle in his shoulder when he'd reached to return that last ball.

"Hey, need a hand?" One of the guys, Luke, asked.

Art didn't have to think twice before accepting. He and Patrick had always helped each other with any minor injuries they'd sustained on court. But of course now Patrick was away on tour seemed Art would need to pick a new friend to help him with stuff like this.

Art startled when he felt Luke's cold hands on his shoulder. "Jesus man, what are you cold blooded or something?"

"Says the guy who was known as ice," another teammate, Ryan, commented.

"I think that was more a reflection on my playing style than my general temperature than you very much."

Distracted by the friendly banter Art allowed himself to relax under Luke's hands. It has been a while since he'd last gotten a massage, he's forgotten how nice it was. Which is probably why he didn't say anything as Luke's hands moved to his other shoulder, and then down his back.

"I'm surprised it's even possible to give you a massage, would've thought with how smooth you. Would have thought if someone touched you their hand would just slide right off." Another guy teased.

Art couldn't help but laugh, "I'm not a duck idiot."

Cole, who was sitting next to him on the bench put his hand on Arts knee then quickly slid it off pretending to almost fall off the bench.

"See," Ryan joked, "youre a walking safety hazard"

Art rolled his eyes fondly, unconsciously leaning back into Luke's hands. "I am not. Come touch me for yourself and you'll see."

Art raised an eyebrow as Ryan approched him yet he didn't stop him, or Cole from putting their hands on his skin. He even raised his hands above his head when told so they could remove his shirt to expose more skin.

"See," Art said sounding incredibly satisfied with himself, "you guys were just over exaggerating, I'm not that smooth"

Art didn't realise the guys had achieved a far greater victory than winning this joke argument, getting their hands on him.

"Okay you're not as smooth as a duck. But you are smooth like a girl" Luke said his hands now on Arts waist.

"Hey!" Art yelled, slapping Ryans hand away as the other boy grabbed at his pecs the way one might at a women's breasts. "I'm not a girl asshole!"

"Aren't you?" Ryan smirked, his hands returning to their previous place. "I mean you kind of look like one."

"Yeah, you're pretty like a girl Artie." Cole added.

"Yeah but that doesn't..." Art paused to stand when Luke patted his hip, "that doesn't mean anything."

"Of course it doesn't," Luke agreed politely as he slipped his thumbs under the waistband of Arts shorts, "because everyone knows girls wear panties. But you're a guy so I'm sure you're wearing boxers under here right?"

Art froze. It's not that he wasn't wearing mens underwear, but he knew what the guys would have to say if they saw he was in fact wearing briefs and not boxers. Patrick had teased him enough times about how his briefs looked more like women's underwear than mens.

"Maybe we should check for ourselves." Cole suggested having picked up on Arts hesitation.

Luke smirked at the others over Arts shoulder as he eased his shorts down. Art knew he should have stopped him yet between this, Ryan's hands on his pecs and Coles hands on his shoulders Art couldn't focus on one thing long enough to act on it.

"Well, those certainly aren't boxers." Ryan laughed.

"Look like panties to me." Luke joined in.

"They're briefs guys! It helps-" Art cut himself off with a gasp when Luke's laid a hand over the front of them.

Luke tutted as Art hardened under his hand. "I think he likes this" he spoke to the other boys as if Art wasn't even there which should have offended Art but shamefully it only made him harder.

"Can you come like this Artie? In your panties just from a couple guys touching you? Just like a girl?" Cole taunted.

Luke rubbed his hand over Arts cock through his pants, "I think he can, can't you Artie? Gonna cum for us in your panties like a good girl?"

Later Art would need to re-evaluate what he thought he was into because unfortunately all of this seemed to be doing something for him.

Ryan snickered as Art's cock noticeably throbbed and pinched one his nipple just to see how he'd react, "Yeah, you like this, like being our girl don't you?"

Art could help but moan between Luke's hand on his cock and Ryan's on his chest.

"So fucking pretty. Such a pretty girl letting us touch you like this." Cole whispered into his ear before leaning down to lick a strip up his neck.

Art let his head tip back against Luke's shoulder, exposing his body to them ever further.

"Oh pretty girl, we'll take care of you." Luke promised slipping his hand inside Arts briefs to properly grasp his desperate cock.

Arts hips instinctively bucked fowarded. It wasn't that he'd never had a hand job before. Just that girls tended to have smaller, more delicate hands, while Luke's bigger, stronger hand was able to cover more of his dick at once.

Art couldn't control the sounds that were slipping out of his mouth, especially when Cole bit down on his neck at the same moment Ryan pinched both his nipples.

"You even moan like a girl Artie" Ryan jabbed.

Art should have been offended. Should have not been letting them touch him like this. But it felt so good, why would he want to stop it.

Art's hips fucked up into Luke's grip chasing his own release.

"So fucking desperate aren't you pretty girl?" Luke said to him before addressing the other guys, "You know, I bet if we asked nicely she'd let us fuck her."

Even though he had known he was close that comment caused Art's orgasm to hit him like a freight train. His knees gave out and had Cole not grabbed his waist as quick as he did he'd have fallen to the floor.

Luke kept stroking him through it. "There you go, that's it, good girl Artie."

Art weakly whimpered in protest when the overstimulation became too much. And only when Luke pulled his hand out of his briefs did Art become aware that he had just cum in his underwear. He could see his release dripping off Luke's hand, could feel it soaking through his briefs. Fuck. He was gonna need a second shower.

Art made to move away from the guys but Cole held him in place. "Now hold on a minute Artie, what about us? We made you cum, it's only fair you return the favour isn't it?"

Art looked down and saw both Ryan and Coles erections straining against their short. Luke stepped closer and Art felt rather than saw his. Seems they were just getting started.

[fuzziemutt]

On the views of Rio in relation to Miguel within fandom

There's something I'm commonly seeing that has been worrying me which is the depictions of Rio "latina mom-ing" Miguel.

This includes Rio:

- slapping him

- coming at him with "the chancla"

- "dressing him down" verbally or yelling

- humiliating him

- straight up just... Beating him up

And I'm bringing this up because guys... This shit be low-key racist. I know racism towards latines has already been a problem (Yes. I am gesturing to the everything that is how Miguel is treated within the fandom), but I personally wanted to bring up this issue as well as I'm unsure if others have talked about it- and we all know how suck ass searching anything on this site is.

Anyways, I won't lie. I don't know how many latines are making these jokes, but it being so prevalent being her "main" interactions makes me feel even if it started as a latine joke, it sure as hell didn't stay that way.

But the depiction of Latina women as fierce, aggressive and (yes it is) straight up physically abusive (in general words) is a major fucking Problem. Latinas are often depicted in media as these "feisty exotic women" who takes no shit. Perpetuating that with Rio does not feel as #girl power as you guys might think. It feels like a step back in treating latinas not as these power houses but as... Y'know... People who aren't depicted as aggressors 24/7....

But also I really hate this cutesy look at what is a serious issue within latine communities. It's always "ha ha funny" seeing a Latina mom beating someone's ass but guys. That is still physical abuse. That is a serious issue and discussion that is held within the latine community. And seeing it so casually assigned to Rio kind of makes me feel sick.

And this isn't even tacking on that you're having a Latina beating/acting aggressive towards a canonical child abuse survivor (yes. Miguel is a child abuse survivor.) Which adds a whole new layer of how shitty this actually is.

Because I hate how people are boiling Rio down to just being an aggressor towards Miguel to "put him in his place". That's discrediting her character so badly.

Yes, latinas can be strong. Yes, latinas can be angry. Yes, latinas can get aggressive.

These are things people are and do because people are complex.

But I really need the fandom to stop for a second and really think about how they saw Rio, witnessed her give her heart on the screen, - a mom who's trying so hard to break these cycles of yelling and humiliation with kindness and understanding (even being a foil to Jeff's strong headed approach on purpose) -

took her and said "she would perpetuate a real cycle of abuse towards a fellow latino because he's the 'bad one'" and laughed.

I know you guys are depicting her like this as a means to defend Miles, but maybe not like this. Her character doesn't deserve being so bastardized like this for your stolen joke.

(which this whole "need" to defend him in the first place points right back to the racism towards Miguel if we're honest. I have complex thoughts on Miguel's interactions with Miles especially involving the end train scene but boiling a traumatized Latino man down to just being an "aggressive threat" that needs to be "put in place" as I've mentioned above is racist as hell too.)

You guys can reblog this, but don't fucking guilt trip people into reblogging this okay? I'm not giving you brownie points for that shit.

[ultfreakme]

Thoughts on Jessie Gender's video on NATLA

I really admire Jessie Gender's videos usually, she's the one whom I usually go to to see videos on gender and queerness in media. I like her stuff a lot and respect their work.

But the NATLA video left me going "no, wait, that's not what happened" a lot. I can't summarize the video, I suggest people go watch it if they want to know but I disagree with practically everything for the most part.

I'm not anybody on the internet. But what I do have is a lifetime of growing up on ATLA, a degree in Sociology and English Literature, coming from a culture that ATLA is based on, studying about colonial rule, researching the cultures ATLA is based on in my spare time and a love for the original. Does that establish some legitimacy? If for some reason you feel like you need to go hate on Jessie for this, DON'T. DO NOT. This is me just critiquing because I think the video content was biased and I want to honestly engage with the points made because everyone has a tendency to demonize the adaption without looking at it on its own merit. With that said:

Point 1: Sokka's sexism is taken out to make the show more palatable and his arc in the Kyoshi Island episode undermines Suki to prop up Sokka.

She says that Sokka's sexism and him addressing it is a show-long arc, and him deconstructing that is him fighting against the colonial sexism of the Fire Nation.

Sokka's sexism is explicitly dealt with in one episode. He's shown to be overtly sexist in the first 4 and never again except for little comments here and there that every other character makes as well and goes unaddressed. His sexism is not because of the Fire Nation- FN is very inclusive of women as warriors. Sokka's sexism is an anomaly because no one but him cares that Katara isn't just sitting home mending clothes(Bato, Hakoda, none of the men on the ship they are on in S3 say a word and she takes off to join Aang in the Fire Nation islands).

If Sokka's sexism is not systematic to the Southern Water Tribe or caused by the Fire Nation, what kind of commentary on sexism is this?

She also says Suki is played down and demured to give Sokka confidence when she's teaching him, taking away her arc as she pines for the new boy who she likes because he's shirtless. Sokka's throughout the episode shows insecurity and a more subtle form of sexism where he's trying ton prove he's as good as her. He's trying to show off his strength to her, and failing miserably and when he realizes she bested him, he walks away. He goes into it assuming he's better than her but walks away realizing shit she is GOOD. Then he goes to her dojo to observe the practice and follows along, Suki invites him in seeing him fucking up the forms outside and teaches him.

Suki falls for a tackle Sokka does in the og and live action. In the OG, it's shown as Sokka ACTUALLY being better. In the live action? He isn't. One lesson doesn't make him better, she transitions from actually teaching him to kinda flirting until she completely stops. She's not weakening herself for him, both of them are expressing romantic interest. How did Sokka, a boy who that morning was defeated by them, get better than SUKI in a spar she put genuine effort in? I think that's frankly more sexist than the live action take.

Additionally, Suki was meant to be a one-off character meant to teach Sokka that sexism is bad. She existed entirely to serve Sokka's character arc and had no independent motivation in season 1. In the live action, we see her talk about wanting to go into the world, and see her growing motivation through Aang's presence of wanting to not just protect Kyoshi Island, but the world. She became what she is only in season 2 and 3. Sokka's sexism arc didn't even pan out well because he never addressed the issue with Katara after that episode, the first and most affected victim of his sexism.

Sokka wearing the armor in the original, is a joke. Aang calls their uniform a dress while laughing (it's not, like it's not even constructed like one, the bottoms are loose pants called Hakama). He isn't put into the uniform to show solidarity, it's a joke, and we are meant to be laughing at Sokka for the most part. Queer fans have reclaimed and redefined that scene to be like drag, but that wasn't the original intention of the show because we get jokes on Aang's masculinity which never actively get refuted from Toph in season 2. Katara of all people points out Sokka wearing a poinytail in a demeaning manner multiple times, a supposedly girly hairstyle. If the original wanted to honor Sokka embracing gender fluidity, they wouldn't consistently mock him for being choosy about buying a bag and wearing a ponytail(which in-universe has cultural importance to him).

All signs of 'femininity' in Sokka are played for laughs in the rest of the show(down to the scene where he draws a rainbow, and his master Piandao simply rolls his eyes).

Sokka is also never once shown as a better warrior in the live action- his story is the opposite. Sokka yearns here to be an engineer, a scientist tinkering away with new inventions. His father Hakoda and the SWT discourages this because there is no value in that for them. Value is shown for them to come from physical strength, which Sokka NEVER has in live action season 1(him having biceps and being shirtless is not a glorification of strength). He's good, but he's nothing special. His true highlight is in his intellect and the show implies pretty well that Sokka doesn't need to be physically strong or a warrior to fight back against oppression.

That's his defining line in the show teasers "you do not need to be a warrior, to be a hero."

Point 2: The sexism arc isn't replaced by anything more nuanced.

It is! It's replaced by the biases against bending. Sokka discourages Katara from bending because the Fire Nation attacked the SWT to eliminate waterbenders. Both Katara and Sokka hold fear for waterbending, a part of their own culture, specifically because of the Fire Nation's hegemony and hierarchical beliefs. Waterbending = preservation of culture and Katara says these exact words in episode 1. Sokka stopping her is him being under the colonial hegemony of the FN because waterbending is what brought Fire Nation soldiers to their shores to kill their mom. That's the new arc and it has follow through to the end. Instead of Sokka telling Katara to kick ass because he isn't sexist anymore, the live action Sokka says it because he's embraced waterbending and his own culture now through seeing Katara grow and letting her choose for herself what's best for her (instead of smothering in his faux warrior persona, which they literally discuss when stuck in the cave). This arc is exclusive to the show, there's no comment on the cultural significance and erasure of waterbending in the original.

It's made more explicit in Katara's arc, where she needs to get past the fear the Fire Nation has put in her of the dangers of her own bending, and embrace that her people wanted to protect it (Kya sacrificing herself, Gran-Gran hiding the waterbending scroll).

Point 3: Showing the genocide of the Air Nomads is disrespectful

In the original, the Air Nomads are nothing but a memory. At all times. We never see the influence of the Air Nomad culture on Aang, or see them alive and thriving at any point. We see them fight back on the live action, and the actual genocide is a few short minutes, interspersed with Aang sinking. It's not a lingering process and it shows the abilities of Air Nomads. Jessie says this is purely aesthetic and to be cool, but there are significant moments that happen here.

Establishing the powers of Air Benders- this is the first and last time we'll get to see Air Bending on this scale and this shows what they can do

There's a scene where two air nomads nod to one another, and the air nomad switches from defensive to an extremely offensive move. It shows that this isn't typical for the Air Nomads, and that they are being pushed to their limits

This is a festival, they were defending themselves and it's important to show that the Air Nomads didn't just go silently without a fight and were ambushed on an important day.

To show the Fire Nation's cruelty and the extent of their power during the comet specifically.

To give weight to WHY everyone Aang runs into is so critical and hateful of the fact that he was gone, and to also show why Aang never refutes them and the weight of what he's lost (and also that even if he were there, he couldn't have done anything)

It's not just to be cool, it's honestly not cool to watch and taking Gordon Cormier, a child's quote to say that's what everyone's impression is, is disingenuous despite the disclaimer given. The kids' quotes always get taken out of context. Reviewers and Avatar fans who went to the premiere were disturbed overall by the violence. They did not think of the Fire Nation as "cool", they saw the Air Nomads like that. Like don't we want people to think of the Air Nomads in a positive light for fighting back?

Their culture gets little to no expansion in the original, and whatever Aang has left of them is actually slowly stripped away in the original.

Aang is made to okay the destruction and modification of the Northern Air Temple when destruction is shown as wrong during his rage and grief in the Southern Air Temple. The new settlers have used the gliders of Air Nomads to device weapons that fly, which were then sold to the Fire Nation. The Mechanist and his people continue this and create more weapons to fight the war in the temples(albeit this time agaisnt the fire nation but the cycle of violence continues using devices and cultures of a peaceful people). A once-peaceful place, is now a center for war innovation and Aang is told to accept this because he must let go of the past to look to the future.

The above, in comparison to Aang simply saying "I should let go of the past and look to the future" is FAR more disrespectful of Aang's culture and past. The live action keeps Gyatso's memory a constant companion to Aang, he is terrified of letting go of the past and it hinders him from simply living.

Point 4: Violence is shown as good and the cycle of violence is perpetuated.

She says Kyoshi demanding Aang to fight back and hit hard is showing that Aang needs to embrace strength and power. That everyone telling him to fight and be alone means strength is given importance, and that the same is shown when Zuko says "sometimes the weak can become strong, sometime you just have to give them a chance."

Kyoshi is wrong. She is willfully portrayed as powerful, but harsh. Roku(though his screentime was small) disagrees with her and tells Aang to find his own way of fighting and that is ultimately what Aang follows.

Kyoshi doesn't come off as correct, she's demanding and harsh, unforgiving. Aang initially lets her take over because he is scared of the power he holds and she promises she can control it to help others. Aang doesn't want power(he literally says 'I don't want these powers'). In the finale, he gives in to the ocean spirit and does what Kyoshi asks; save everyone, even if it costs his own life. But it is shown as a tragedy. Katara calls back for him and tells him he shouldn't have to sacrifice himself, that he has a place in this world as he is no matter what others tell him and he listens to THAT. He says he will save the world not alone, but with his friends, in the memory of the Air Nomads to ensure it never happens again.

Physical strength is only a priority to Katara's character. Sokka doesn't fight in the end, he's begging Yue to not sacrifice herself and is protecting her. He's not some macho man. Aang is also not embracing power.

Zuko says that line not to show that he can grow stronger, but that people should get second chances. He's a hurt kid wishing his father had the compassion to let him grow. But he doesn't and Zuko walks away from it thinking physical strength and bending prowess is important, crushing his compassion. That line on a meta level isn't even about physical strength. It's about mental fortitude and character, and the strength to be compassionate.

Jet was mentioned as being portrayed as more wrong, but in the original he was ready to sink a village of innocents. in the live action he genuinely helped Katara with her waterbending and was justified in wanting to kill the mechanist(who collaborated with the fire nation) and King Bumi (who is neutral, incompetent and has let the Fire Nation run rampant in the city). He's more sympathetic here because he's doing it with a concrete reason, and he didn't even manipulate Katara the way he did in the original. She was genuinely charmed by him.

A big problem I had with Jessie's video was putting in clips from some right-wing channel between critique of NATLA....which....why? Huh? And these were used to say NATLA is leaning into fascist tendencies and smoothing out any critique of colonialism when it really isn't. I think NATLA is very explicitly saying the same message as the original. Not in the same way, but it is. The show actively engages audiences and the characters in discussions of cultural erasure and the problems of valuing power(the latter especially through Zuko and Azula).

There are million issues with the live action (Sokka's casting, ableism in Zuko's burn scar, the writing issues, pacing issues, the lack of screen time for Aang and focus on the Fire family). The ones Jessie Gender discussed though, are not it.

[lover-of-mine]

I have realized what is making my head explode when a BT post accidentally goes through my tags!!!! They are completely ignoring Buck is bi. They are acting like my aunt in the early 2000s. I may not have been fond of all the LUs but they were valid relationships. If Taylor had not fucked up who knows where that relationship would have gone. I mean clearly nowhere once Eddie was out because once Eddie broke up with him he spiraled and kissed Lucy. But they are still valid relationships and at this point in time I don't see how Tommy is better than any of them. To be honest he has the worst traits of Abby and Taylor but the screen time of Ally. So frustrating.

Well, when have people ever been normal about bisexuality? But here's the thing, every relationship Buck had so far had his own set of issues that somehow have been reduced to the way he was dating women, which is fucked in so many ways and the amount of times I have to stop myself from picking a fight because of bucktaylor it's actually hysterical to me because we're seriously at a point where I need to defend the validity of Taylor's place in Buck's life. Like, how did we get here? Because here's the thing, do I think Buck and Taylor were meant to be? No. Do I think Buck would've clung to her until he literally couldn't anymore if her actions hadn't hurt his family? Absolutely. I see Buck going as far as panic proposing to her if that particular situation hadn't happened, just to have someone. Because they had chemistry and Buck kept trying to force that to become love. Taylor was wrong for Buck for a multitude of reasons, but none of those reasons were because she's a woman and Buck is gay. And the relationship with Tommy is not gonna magically last forever just because Tommy is a man. Tommy is this weird amalgamation of all of Buck's love interests with Ali/Ana levels of screentime and he doesn't magically have a fighting chance just because he has a dick and people can't seem to see this. And I think that's crazy. Because Tommy was given to us in an episode that had the theme of not recognizing people, while actively making us think it was about someone else and then they did the Kim storyline and I want to scream because people can't see the parallels. And the more I look at it the more insane I get because he's all of Buck's love interests smashed into someone who's Eddie two steps to the left with none of the things we love about him. But somehow he's perfect because he's not a woman. The only thing Tommy has going for him is not being a woman. You turn him into one and none of the things he did would fly. Letting Buck get away with physically hurting Eddie? Leaving him in the curb? Not dressing up? Making a kink joke after someone Buck loves almost died? Picture those scenes with Lucy and tell me anyone in the fandom would be shipping them. Let alone fighting for them the way people are right now. But he's a man so he gets a pass and that's so fucking weird. Evan Buckley is bisexual but getting dicked down isn't going to magically make everything perfect. Jesus.

Also, since you mentioned Eddie coming out, something that I've been thinking about since we found out it was supposed to be Eddie, a Buck who thinks he's straight finding out Eddie has a boyfriend would shortcircuit. I legit think they could not find a way to write Buck's reaction to Eddie being queer that didn't end with him figuring his feelings out so they switched things up, so Buck would for sure would've gotten there once Eddie got there because he would've had big feelings about it and Buck is not the repressed one.

[violinn]

i’m so fucking tired of all this complaining about the mean girls movie musical.

1) it’s the musical, not the original movie, so if you havent seen the musical before, things are going to be fucking different because ITS NOT THE MOVIE !!!!!! they dress different, they act diff, they talk diff, even the dynamics are a little diff.

2) people need to stop acting like the decision to make regina gay is the most angering, out-of-pocket thing in the world, because it fucking isn’t. people are acting like it’s the most absurd decision ever, and it isn’t. if you’re really that fucking upset over it, then the movie was obviously not fucking made FOR YOU. nobody is forcing you to watch it. (and i’m sure renee rapp would not want the $0.001 she makes off of your view)

istg, all i see everyday is all of these identical looking twinks complaining about how out of pocket it is, and how it doesn’t make any sense. if it was the opposite, nobody would be complaining. if aaron was gay, everyone would think it’s so cool. if there was a remake of like any other movie and they made a man gay, tik tok and everyone else would be so excited, praising it for its ingenious and its creativeness. but as soon as it’s a lesbian, people flip out. gay men have no issue iconizing all these women, until they’re lesbian.

so, here is me directly addressing some of these points that these people are making:

“it came out of nowhere” - did it really? literally the main conflict between the two sides in the movie is because regina told everyone that janis was a lesbian, and janis was like extremely hurt about it, even how many years later. it would make sense that the falling out had something to do with regina having feelings for her, or something along those lines

“regina was into aaron” - did you even watch the movie? like honestly, seriously, did you? she isn’t even into him. even if she dated him, it’s like one of the most common things for lgbtq people to have dated the opposite sex, even if they aren’t attracted to them, either for appearance, or simply not yet knowing, and this is like the most prevalent in teenagers. regina, in all honesty, did not seem all too into aaron when you look back on it. she used him quite literally as a pawn in front of cady’s face. she sat there in the one scene and purposefully used the fact that they were dating to aggravate cady. also, why are we acting like it isn’t a thing to be bisexual? she could literally just be bisexual. (just saying, y’all never seem to deny comphet when it’s a man 🙄)

“there’s no way an entire school was bullied by a lesbian” - WHAT? i’m sorry but what. i don’t even know what point this person was trying to make, but even so, they completely missed. aside from all of the things i could pick apart about this statement, i thought it was like a running joke that usually the popular bully in high school, usually turns out to be closeted (male or female). like not even saying that this is true, but this is like a popular generalization and joke, so this point doesn’t even make sense.

finally, reneé literally said she isn’t explicitly gay. she said it was just her vibes. people are getting this mad over a character who is just the slightest bit hinted about being a lesbian.

just leave it the fuck alone. let gay girls be happy over the slightest chance at representation, because we all know that gay men get almost all of it.

thank you

- a girl who likes girls and reneé rapp, who just wants a little bit of representation in something popular.

[yurnu]

YES YES! Thank you for listing my other reasons of not liking the show!

Another issues I have is one. How is the show going to handle lilith as a whole. And what religion they are going with, because in one, she actually r@ped adam. It wild how much you can find with one Google search.

Also, the characters all look the same, especially the boys. They all share the same bow ties and shoulder pads even though mainly all their time periods didn't have those in fashion. And the girl characters just looked blank like something missing like charlie. If I didn't know about the show, someone showed me a picture of charlie and said she was a manager at a hotel. I would believe them, but if they mentioned she was a princess, I would probably think they were joking.

And I thought of this idea instead of all the songs being pop genre. They could've bought in other song elements/types into the show, like having alastor have a jazzy type song or something that would be popular in his time period.

Now, lucifer as a whole. I think we all should agree that Adam anger is valid. Imagine you chilling in a wonderful place, with no worries, then an angel steals your first wife, but doesn't stop there, no proceed to steal your second one. In the progress, kicking you out of the home you ever known and doom the earth as a whole. Now, years later, his daughter is coming up to you saying things like, "sinners are her people; and deserve to be in heaven." When it shown none of the sinners regret a thing they have done while living their life, and only regret their decisions because they all ended up in place they all deserved.

Lastly, I feel bad for the victims who have to be forced to be living with their killer or etc. If their killer or etc, it is redeemed. Like you are supposed to be happy to live with the monster (that ruined your earth's life) in the afterlife?

There are many things that are said about Lilith. One is that she is the reason why Asmodeus exists after having raped Adam, another is that she delights in the pain of pregnant women and it is she who provokes her during childbirth, it is also said that she is the mother of demons because they use her as a sex toy.

She is not very empowering, as many want to make her look.

God, the fashion sense on that Show is horrible. ALL the fucking characters wear suits with shoulder pads, bow ties and hats (except for the female characters, whose clothes vary, Valentino who looks the part, and Adam who wears a tunic) it's so unoriginal why don't they have Angel Dust dress like a prostitute? If that's what her job as a porn star in hell is all about.

But hey, it's not like I know about fashion from other eras But could they vary? For crying out loud.

Obviously Adam's hatred is more than justified, if you know at least the basics of the bible, old or new testament you will obviously support Adam.

And that must be a bummer. You die because of a bad motherfucker, spend the best years of your life in heaven only to one day have that same motherfucker, who was in hell, suddenly show up in heaven because he supposedly "repented" for his actions and comes up to you and says "Hi! Remember the day I tortured you to death? I realized that was so wrong, sorry about that."

Yes... It would give me a stroke.

[yuyu1024]

Midnight rain

Pairings: S.coups × y/n

Genre/tags: idol dating, confession, hidden feelings

Warning: insecurity, unsureness, relationship issue, cursing, [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 0.7k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: repost. Check pinned post ♥️

*******

"What did you say?" You ask. "I didn't... I didn't hear you properly..." you stutter.

But that was a lie. You did hear him. You heard him loud and clear that each word echoed and still ringing in your ears

"I said... I'm going to ask Shanie to be my girlfriend... officially."

That fucking hurts. You wanted to scream and walk away. You wanted to ask him why. You wanted him to say that it was all a joke.

But looking at his smile, his eyes it is true.

"Oh..." You force a smile and smacks his shoulder, "Congrats! Y-you.. finally have the courage to ask her... that's awesome!"

Then there was a moment of silent that stretched between the two of you. You tried to ignore it. You went on to look up to the sky and watch the fireworks fill up the night with beautiful colors. You kept your smile even though your hands are literally shaking. Your so good at hiding it.

Or that's what you thought.

"Y/n..."

"Hmm?"

"Are you really happy? I mean... me asking Shanie to be my girlfriend..."

"Ahm, of course! Why would I not be?"

"Stop it." He adjusted his position. He's facing you more. "Stop pretending... I'm not blind..."

"What are you talking about?" You were trying so hard to brush it off.

You can face it. You can't talk about it.

The feelings you and Seungcheol have for each other. The feelings that the both of you kept on pushing back, acting like it does not exist even though both of you feel the vibrations in your hearts.

"Cheolie..." you closed your eyes and took a deep breathe first. "Please..."

"Please what? I don't get it! I like you. You like me. But you keep on choosing to avoid it. Why? What's wrong with choosing me? What's wrong with... allowing yourself to love me?"

"You know, we can't be together." You look away. "It's complicated..."

"Is it because of my work? Being an idol? You know I don't care what the media says. You know I can handle it! My fans... they will understand it. If not everyone... or immidately but they will someday so... It's fine."

"But I do care." You sighed. "I can't handle it... people talking shit about you. Saying mean things... your career... I... it matters to me..."

"So... you're willing to sacrifice your own feelings... and mine for my career? You think thats more important than you?"

You try to calm yourself so you would not cry. You are in public and with his family. Yes, his family. You two have been friends for a while and his family have treated you like theirs. They invited you in this family outing because its been a while since Seungcheol had a break at work.

"Y/n... please..."

"I know how much your work means to you... your members... your fans... making music, singing and performing...is your life."

"But you are part of my life too!"

"Cheolie..." you stood up and about to walk away but he pulls you back down again.

"Why are you like this? You've always told me to follow my heart and dreams... and I did with music and now I'm following it for you . I am in love with you y/n."

"People will hear." You hiss at him. "Cheolie... please..."

"Do you want us to stay like this? As friends?"

You paused and looked at him. "Yes."

"You... really are okay with me to date other women?"

"No... but... it's safer for you..."

"What's the difference of me dating them to you dating me?"

"They are better than me. People would accept them..."

"What?" His brows furrowed. He can't believe what she's saying. Her insecurities. Because for him, she's perfect just the way she is. "Is my love not enough... to make you feel... loved... content... secure...?"

You started to tear up and sob. "No... And you don't deserve to be with someone who needs constant reaffirmation... someone who haven't started the process of loving herself..."

"But... Y/n... I love you... I fucking love you..."

"I know... I do to... but... I'm not the right person for you... you deserve someone better."

[randomkposts]

If you actually think about it, if Light was the only genderbent character in deathnote, the show would take very dark turn and would communicate a different message.

K:- " If Light was the only genderbent character in death note, the show would communicate a diffrent message, yes, primarly because the show was written in the early 2000s with 90s values, and its creator was not good at nuanced portrayal of women, to put it mildly. Look at how Death Note treats Misa. Shes treated as a legit threat until she joins up with Light where she becomes more of a joke. Yes the sexism and being talked down to for being a girl would drive Light nuts, but its nothing she didnt already deal with growing up. Would it be harder for them to take her seriously? Yes-"

E :- "Which is obvious considering the early 90's 00's Japanese work culture. Even now it's still a breakthrough.

But they may or may not be trying to say Fem Light would suffer under male hands or something of that issue.

Would the Task Force hurt fem Light? Doubt it. Most of them are respectful men, the worst I can say is they can get hot headed with each other as men.

Laying hands on Fem Light? No.

They never did that to Misa not counting the time with Soichiro as that was with Light under the impression they were suspects."

K:- "Misa being under arrest and filmed was pretty yikes. And Solitary confinement was already a pretty dark and messed up angle to go. But Light here is the chief of police's daughter. She has the power of Neoptisim and a prior connection with most of them on her side. "

E:- " True true. He already had a bond with them. Misa's arrest was more hostile. Maybe that is what they were referring too?"

K:-"Misa was both treated like a threat and not.

Later on in the prisonorship she had police escort shopping privlages, but at first that image is pretty wack.

And why? What are we supposted to infer from this?"

E :-"I know right? She's a threat enough to keep around surveillance but not enough to stop her from swapping places with friends.

She can show she is capable of fooling people but it's not enough to treat her as a genuine threat. I doubt Misa minds it. It gives her so much leniency to get away with things.

But for fem Light it's infuriating.

But here I wonder if L would see her as a threat?

My canon L doesn't give a fuck about your gender. Only if you can actually play the game. Violence is not restricted by gender. Anyone is capable."

K:- " Are we supposted to infer something about L from Misas outfit while being filmed? I guess its interpritive, but I see it more as L breaking social boundries to make her unconfortable and push her closer to hopefully breaking. Same with the handcuffs really."

E:- " L does that with everyone. She ain't special in that which makes it oddly open minded.L does that to me by getting his damn feet on things."

K:- " I don't think L cares about Gender. But the steryotypes at the time imposed preformances of gender upon most of the players"

E:- "Right right. Such as expected reactions"

K:- "And I admit, I AU for fun. I'm not intrested in exploring the darker timeline where the taskforce is a skeevy to female Light.

And we acknowledged that the world would treat them diffrently by gender from where the concept was first incepted with female L.

Its always been part of the considerations, the Sexisim present in Japan at the time at which Death note was written. Hell, I'm probably missing nuances from it, from not being Japanese nor Not being an adult in the 90s"

E:- "We can only gather what we know and work with it. And once again this is for fun."

: )

[phr3ia]

Fragmented Glass (Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 2 : Party]

[3 Weeks Later]

The exquisite hall was filled with the hustle and bustle of people wearing extravagant clothes. The sound of clinking glasses and laughter echoed through the spacious area. Satoru and You mingled among the Sorcerers, leaving your personal issues aside for this moment. The Zenin Clan hosted a private party, and it was your first time attending with your husband, Satoru. This also marked your initial public appearance as a married couple, although everyone was aware that it was merely a marriage of convenience.

Satoru was effortlessly charming with his charisma, cracking jokes and making witty remarks as he interacted with the Sorcerers. His white hair, gleamed under the chandeliers. In contrast, You were more reserved, your actions and words more calculated, your eyes darting around the room, taking mental notes of the conversations you overheard.

Despite being in the same room, Satoru and you seldom crossed paths. And when you did, your gazes never met. Your faces neutral, hiding whatever emotions laid beneath the surface.

The day went on, and the conversation flowed, but the air between you and Satoru remained thick, heavy with the unspoken tension.

A little while later, a group of men approached you, and you could feel their eyes scanning you from head to toe. The compliments came, and they were smooth, the words flowing effortlessly. "A sorcerer as beautiful as you is a rare gem." one of them said. A small smile formed on your lips, but your heart remained cold.

Satoru, who was not far away, overheard the conversation, and despite the fact that you were indeed attractive, his indifference was clear in the way he chose to ignore you.

Everybody was enjoying the party when a commotion broke out in the corner of the room, drawing the attention of everyone present.

Naoya Zenin, a young and arrogant Sorcerer, was known for his misogynistic personality . The way he treated women around him was deplorable, and this time, it seemed like he had taken things too far. In front of the entire party, he grabbed the hair of a female waitress, yanking her back as if she were a ragdoll. All because she had accidentally spilled a glass of wine on him.

Satoru, standing in the corner, was about to intervene but he stopped in his tracks when he saw you approaching Naoya.

You knew you couldn't simply stand by and watch.

Stepping in between Naoya and the terrified waitress, you firmly but calmly said, "Let her go, Naoya."

Naoya snarled, his hand tightening on the waitress's hair. He knew who you were, as did everyone else in that room. The way he looked at you was filled with pure hatred, and you could sense the impending argument.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"I'm stopping you from disrespecting a person who was only doing her job." you responded, your voice cool and collected.

Naoya's grip on the waitress's hair eased a bit, but not enough for her to escape.

"You have no place sticking your nose in things you know nothing about, Y/N. Besides, this is just how things work." He released her hair, as if he had expected you to back down, but you didn't.

"You can't treat people like that, because, no matter how powerful you are, it doesn't give you the right to disrespect others." you stood your ground.

Naoya's eyes narrowed at you. "And here I thought you'd be like other Sorcerers, stuffing your face with wealth and power, without a care in the world. But no, you had to stick your neck out for a useless human." He spat the last word with disdain. "What a letdown."

"They're still people, Naoya, regardless of whether or not they have cursed energy flowing in their veins. We are supposed to protect the world, not lord over it like a bunch of tyrants."

"Tch, a little high and mighty for someone who's seen the light only a couple of years ago. Haven't you heard? Keeping humanity at an arm's length is the most humane thing we can do." His eyes wandered to the waitress, a twisted smirk on his lips.

You rolled your eyes. "Believing that humans are nothing but a burden, doesn't make it true. We're no better than the cursed spirits, twisting the world to fit our own desires."

Naoya leaned in, his voice dripping with venomous intent, "Well, if you're so concerned about humanity, maybe you should've given more thought before agreeing to an arranged marriage. It's not like you'll be producing the next Jujutsu Sorcerer to 'save' the world like Satoru Gojo. We all know it's not going to happen."

Your expression darkened as Naoya's words cut deep, but before you could even put him in his place, Naobito Zenin, stepped in front of his son with a stern look written all over his face.

"Enough, Naoya." he said in a firm tone. "You're drunk and out of line. Apologize to Ms.Y/N at once."

Naoya reluctantly gave in, spewing out an insincere apology. He straightened himself, his eyes still filled with resentment.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You led the waitress outside the hall away from the commotion.

Satoru watched from the corner of his eyes as you walked past him, his face void of any emotion. But your actions were not what he had expected from someone hailing from a clan known for its ruthlessness. Intrigued, he quietly chose to follow you outside the hall, concealing his presence.

Satoru quietly moved behind a column, out of sight, yet close enough to hear your conversation.

He observed you for a bit longer, taking in the compassion in your eyes, the comfort you offered to a stranger. It was a side of you he had never seen before, and it left him questioning everything he thought you were. You seemed to possess a conscience that put the wellbeing of humans first.

Your voice was gentle, soothing, as you placed a hand on the waitress's trembling shoulder. "It's alright. You're safe now. Just take a deep breath."

You checked for any bruises and offered to get her something to calm her nerves. She thanked you profusely before hurrying back to work. You let out a sigh of relief, taking a moment to collect your thoughts in the quiet corner.

The night of the party drew to a close. Guests started to filter out of the building and into their waiting vehicles. You, too, made your way towards Satoru's car, ready to end the evening.

As you approached, the valet opened the passenger door for you, a soft smile on his face. "Ms. Y/N, you're looking beautiful as ever."

You thanked him, feeling somewhat confused by his familiarity. This also caught Satoru's attention who was following behind you.

But before the valet could shut the door, his eyes welled up with tears, and he stumbled over his words, "I... I have to thank you again. I'll never forget what you did for me and my family."

"Wait! "Are you that guy from the hospital two years ago? Shinichi, right?!" you asked in surprise as you finally recognized him.

The valet nodded, sniffling as he spoke, "Yes, Ma'am, you paid off my mother's hospital bills. And-and just like that, you vanished. I never got the chance to express my gratitude, and I'm sorry it took me so long. But thank you, from the bottom of my heart. My Mom was able to recover!"

"Wow! You've grown taller!" You said, patting his head. "You don't have to thank me, Shinichi. I'm just glad your mother is doing well." You smiled at him and opened your arms, inviting him for a hug.

The young valet throw his arms around you for a warm embrace, he looked at you with tears still glistening in his eyes. "Thank you, Ms. Y/N. You're the kindest person I've ever met."

"Take care, Shinichi. Do good in life, alright?" You squeezed him gently before letting go.

He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, "I will! Thank you, Ms.Y/N!"

Shinichi closed the car door for you as you settled into the back seat with Satoru.

The ride back to your shared home was quiet. Satoru's thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion as he grappled with this side of you he just saw. But he said nothing. A part of him wanted to know more, while another part was too stubborn to admit that maybe he had misjudged you.

Upon arriving at the house, Satoru silently got out of the car, leaving you no choice but to follow. Once inside, Satoru spoke to you for the first time since the party, but even his voice held no emotion, "Let's skip it for tonight."

You froze, deeply taken aback by his statement. It was the first time he'd ever said anything like this to you. You began to wonder what might have caused Satoru to change his mind tonight, you were somewhat happy to realize that for the first time in a year of being together, Satoru allowed you to take a break.

Satoru quietly made his way to the bedroom, while you chose to remain in the kitchen and enjoy a comforting cup of chamomile tea. The evening was peaceful and quiet until Naoya's words came rushing back to you. Your grip on the cup tightened until it cracked, the snapping sound jolted you out of your trance.

You rose up from the chair and discarded the empty, broken cup in the garbage.

After that, you entered the bedroom to find Satoru already sprawled out on the bed, eyes closed, deeply asleep. Slowly, you undressed, removed your makeup and got ready for bed.

Little did you know, that the simple gesture of Satoru earlier would be the beginning of change for the both of you.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

End of Chapter 2 🥀...

@kalopsia-flaneur @thatmartinkitten @staruus

[elfhunk]

like. okay.

i'm going to share too much. because it's been one of those days.

i'm in a weird unique position to observe this phenomenon of men who are desperately trying to do what is by everything but name transition to become men+. men (extreme). men (ultimate).

because i am a (functionally) cisgender gay man who has a social circle of largely transgender women. i just get to see a really funny venn diagram from my seat.

like, i've regularly joked that i want to enjoy being a man as much as sasha colby enjoys being a woman. i admire the ever loving shit out of trans women performers who pursue this unrealistic height of performative womanhood. women like sasha are living out childhood fever dreams in real time. she is visibly drawing immense pleasure from the act of being this kind of woman and making everyone else fucking watch.

it is very obviously not the only way to be a woman, and no one should be expected to pursue this degree of performative womanhood. but that's what sasha always wanted to be. so she's going to fucking do it. and none of us can stop her.

it comes up in interviews with her time and time again, and i never stop finding it so personally motivating. because this is what comes up whenever i talk about childhood with the trans women in my life. i recognize so many of the same story beats. there's this commonality to being a child who's supposed to be a boy. because if you're bad at being a boy? that means you aren't anything. you aren't allowed to be anything. hegemonic masculinity in practice is a perpetual violent humiliation levied against you for falling even an inch short.

it doesn't care if you turn out to be a girl, a boy, or something else! it just hates your ass!

so some of us get a chip on our shoulder about it. when we have control over our lives in adulthood, we want to be everything they said we weren't allowed to be. we maybe want to go a little overboard. we want to rub their faces in it.

for some people that means becoming the exaggerated form of woman you were told that you couldn't be. for some people that really does mean becoming the exaggerated form of man you were told that you couldn't be.

i think more men feel this way than you might realize. i think a lot of straight cis men feel this insecurity the same way. they were being subjected to the same brutal script as i was, after all.

so they start looking for ways to be real men. they start looking for ways back onto the boat they were shoved off of as kids.

they might start doing some really high risk behaviors if it means a shot at getting told they're finally back on board.

and i really empathize with this issue. i realized the same thing. i wanted to be a man, and i felt like i was never allowed to be one.

but y'know who was in the water with me when i wanted to try clawing my way back onto that nasty old boat?

well, i was surrounded by trans women. and do you know what trans women are going to teach you how to do instead? they'll teach you how to build your own goddamn boat.

it was the trans community that taught me to understand these changes to appearance or lifestyle as a long game of maximizing my own gender euphoria. it was the trans community that taught me how to make choices that were right for me and only for me. different women in my life have completely different definitions of their own womanhood, and what would make them happy.

i had examples set for me about why or why not someone would want to pursue certain treatments, surgeries, or medical interventions. i was taught to keep checking in with myself regularly. i was taught to ask myself if i was truly happy with my choices, and how to live with them in the event i regretted something.

and i think i'm finally getting pretty good at it. not perfect. but pretty good. i really like the man i see in the mirror. i think he's really sexy.

it's a lot of trial and error and a lot of uncertainty. it's a lot of deciding something maybe wasn't right for me, and feeling maybe a little embarrassed i ever tried it.

but i am really glad i have those tools.

because, y'all? this "men trying to transition to men (extreme)" thing is an entire black market pharmaceutical industry. this is what this entire manosphere grift is. this is what an eerie amount of even basic men's grooming, fashion, and lifestyle content is built around.

they are built around this idea that you must follow these instructions in order to be a man. you must take these measures, you must do this work to your body, you must fit within these categories. otherwise? you don't count. and i'm sure this rhetoric is sounding familiar.

i swear to you, there are just a lot of men who don't think they're men yet and need to do something in order to transition into a manlier kind of man. they're taking pills, they're giving injections, they're counting calories, they're trying to forcemasc brainwash themselves.

and i just get a little worried no one is checking in with themselves. i am worried no one is asking them if this is making them happy. because i really do believe in personal autonomy around these choices.

but i want to make sure it's making them happy.

[emma23]

Mad genius :

Nathan Bateman x reader

If you want to support me, check this out 💕

https://ko-fi.com/settings?tab=profile

Nathan Bateman was not the kind of man who deviated from his routines. His life was structured, controlled, and dictated by his intellect. He had built the world’s most advanced AI and lived in a mansion of isolation where he reigned over his creations. He liked it that way—simple, clear lines between himself and everyone else. Until now.

Now, his mind was consumed by one thing—or rather, one person: you.

It was ridiculous. He had never liked anyone, much less allowed anyone to disrupt his focus. But here you were, doing just that with your smile, your laugh, and your irritatingly human imperfections.

He found you in the kitchen, casually rifling through the fridge like you owned the place. “You’re out of beer,” you announced without even looking at him.

Nathan stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you. “You don’t drink beer.”

You glanced over your shoulder and grinned. “But you do. And I’m a good guest.”

“A guest,” he repeated dryly. “That’s a generous way of describing someone who’s been here for two weeks.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? You’re just such great company.” You closed the fridge and leaned against the counter, arms folded, mimicking his stance. “So, what’s up, Bateman? You look like you’re plotting something.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed as he studied you, his mind racing with thoughts he had never entertained before. He hadn’t planned on liking you. He hadn’t planned on you staying this long. But here you were, turning his life upside down with every sarcastic comment and carefree grin.

“How else would I otherwise deviate from my normal M.O.?” he said, his voice almost casual, but there was something sharp beneath the surface.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “What’s your normal M.O.? Brooding in a cave while you build robot women?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “Something like that.”

“You’re mad.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“That’s the issue, Y/N. I’m mad for you,” he said, his voice low, eyes burning into yours.

Your smile faltered as you blinked, taken aback. “You’re mad…for me?”

“I’m disgustingly, disturbingly mad for you, to the point that I’ve started questioning my own fucking sanity,” he grit out, running a hand through his hair. He looked almost angry, as if the revelation frustrated him as much as it confused you.

You stared at him, stunned into silence for a moment before you burst into laughter. “Okay, okay, very funny, Nathan. But seriously, what’s up with you today?”

Nathan’s jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his eyes not leaving yours. “I’m not joking.”

Your laughter died in your throat as the weight of his words sank in. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He reached out, grabbing your arm gently, pulling you closer to him. “This isn’t normal for me, Y/N. I don’t do this. I don’t get attached to people.”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as the intensity in his eyes sent shivers down your spine. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything. I just want you to understand how fucked up this is for me.” He let out a frustrated breath, his hand tightening slightly on your arm. “I’ve spent my entire life building things I can control—things that make sense. And then you come along and ruin that.”

You blinked at him, your mind reeling. “Nathan, I—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice low. “Just…don’t say anything yet.” His other hand came up to cup your face, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and for the first time since you’d met him, Nathan looked almost…vulnerable.

“I’ve never liked anyone before,” he admitted quietly, his eyes boring into yours. “Not like this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words settled over you. You didn’t know how to respond. Nathan Bateman, the cold, calculating genius, liked you?

“Nathan…” you began, but your words trailed off as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was nothing like you had expected—gentle, almost cautious, as if he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right.

But then you kissed him back, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, and something in him snapped. The kiss deepened, and suddenly he wasn’t gentle anymore. His hands were in your hair, pulling you closer, and his lips were hot and demanding against yours.

You gasped as he pressed you back against the counter, his body firm against yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Your hands fumbled at the hem of his shirt, tugging it upwards, and he growled low in his throat before pulling back just long enough to yank the fabric over his head.

You stared at him, breathless, your heart racing as he stood there, chest heaving, his eyes dark with need.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

You shivered at his words, your body already burning with desire. “Then do it,” you challenged, pulling him back down into another searing kiss.

The next few moments were a blur of heat and desperation. Clothes were discarded, your bodies pressed together as he lifted you onto the counter, his hands gripping your thighs as he kissed you senseless.

“Nathan,” you gasped as his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “Oh my God…”

He chuckled against your throat, his hands sliding up your sides, sending shivers through you. “You like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You could only nod, your mind too foggy with desire to form words. He moved against you with a confidence that made your head spin, every touch, every kiss, driving you closer to the edge.

Later, much later, you both lay tangled together on the floor of the kitchen, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the heat between your bodies. Nathan’s arm was draped over you, his chest rising and falling steadily as he stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

You glanced over at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “So…that was unexpected.”

Nathan turned his head to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. Unexpected.”

You chuckled, snuggling closer to him. “You still mad?”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You laughed softly, resting your head on his chest. “Well, for what it’s worth…I’m mad for you too.”

Nathan’s hand came up to stroke your hair, and for a moment, everything felt…right. No AI, no experiments, just the two of you, lying together in the aftermath of something neither of you had planned.