#why is this such a fucking confusing mess

[wynnevee]

a classic

bob floyd x reader

synopsis: an unsuspecting jake hits on you at the hard deck while the gang waits for bobs new girlfriend to arrive (spoiler alert: that’s you)

warnings: alcohol, insecure reader, social anxiety and concerns about fitting in, fluffy bobby ☺️, horny bobby 🤭, hickeys, mentions of sex, unedited as always

notes: the second ‘jealous bob’ blurb. i am really feeding y’all good with this content this week. enjoy!!

you’d been at the bar for maybe five minutes, watching bob and his friends from the bar.

it sounded creepier than it was; really, you were just nervous. stomach twisting, heart racing, palms sweating, absolutely so fucking nervous.

you and bob had only been dating for a year now, but it felt like you’d known him forever. as cheesy as it sounded, he’d quickly became a part of every little bit of your life, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

however, bob also wanted you in every little part of his life… which meant meeting his navy friends.

and just like that: your bubble popped.

it’s not that you weren’t sociable, you were just a bit more awkward than the typical hot-shot pilot. you were interesting, but not… that interesting. some of these guys have flown into certain death and survived—could you really make an impression on them? what if you embarrassed yourself? what if you didn’t meet their expectations?

unable to find an answer to these questions in the floorboards of the house you’d spent all day scrubbing, you’d come to the hard deck early, hoping a drink or two would loosen you up a bit.

it didn’t. and now you watched your boyfriend and his friends laugh and drink, and you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

you just hoped nobody had noticed you—a hope that was squashed when you saw a familiar man in a familiar tan uniform saunter up to the bar.

john? jason? jake? jake, that was it. you’d seen him in group pictures of the squad, and honestly, you’d been the most nervous to meet him.

‘loud, cocky, and weirdly lovable’ was bob’s description of him, and as he walked up to the bar like a male peacock doing a mating dance, you began to see the truth in this statement.

“hey gorgeous, you look awful lonely. can i buy you a drink?”

you didn’t know what you were expecting him to say but it definitely wasn’t that. you sputtered, almost choking on your own saliva. “i’m sorry, what— what was that?”

you must have misheard him.

he laughed, seeming to think your confusion was amusing or cute. you didn’t like that. “can i buy you a drink, sweetheart? maybe buy you dinner sometime too?”

oh god, this was escalating quickly. “oh, i’m, uh… i’m actually—”

fucking your friend and colleague?

the one you’re here to meet?

absolutely desperate for you and your friends’ approval and so am trying to let you down easy so you won’t hate me?

“you’re cute,” he cuts in, before you could pick a suitable end to your sentence. “sorry, i have a habit of getting ahead of myself around such gorgeous women. let’s start with names: jake.”

“i know.” fuck, fuck, why did you say that?! those first two drinks weren’t a good idea. “i meant—"

but before you could finish, there was a call of your name from across the room and another familiar face coming into view: bob, your knight in shining armor, here to save you from this rapidly sinking ship.

he reaches you in a few strides, face a bit flushed, hair messed and absolutely perfect. wrapping a strong arm around your waist, he pulls you in, leaning down to peck your lips softly.

“hey beautiful, when did you get here?”

“what the actual fuck.”

bob and jake speak at the same time, leading bob to turn to his teammate, pretending to have just noticed him. “hangman, i see you’ve met my lovely girlfriend! sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt; what were you talking about?”

his sneaky smug smile led you to believe otherwise.

it was jake’s turn to sputter, the tips of his ears turning cherry red. he tried to play it off, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “just chatting.”

bob smiled, arms wrapped around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. “you look surprised. did you think she was single?”

jake shrugged, shoulders finally relaxing. “i mean, she’s gorgeous—” he looks to you “—you are gorgeous. if he ever fucks up, you know where to find me.”

and he’s off with a wink, no doubt on his way to find a rebound conquest. you feel bob pull you tighter and you’re able to picture his furrowed brow and exasperated expression perfectly.

“dumbass,” he murmurs, kissing and nipping at your jaw gently. “flirtin’ with you, thinking i’d ever screw somethin’ this good up.”

you smile, bringing a hand up to hold his cheek as you lean back to look at him. “you’re getting a little southern there, cowboy, how much have you had to drink?”

he sighs, eyes trailing down your body shamelessly. “not enough that you should feel uncomfortable letting me tear that dress off with my teeth—”

you pat his cheek, turning in his arms so you can further silence him with a soft kiss. “keep it in your pants, lieutenant, we’ve still gotta meet the rest of your friends. can’t have anyone thinking i’m single.”

you weren’t gonna lie: hangman hitting on you did give you a little confidence boost for the introductions to come.

bob pouted, clearly not wanting to share you with the rest of his squadron. he buries his face in your neck and you’re expecting him to mumble something about going home early—you gasp when you feel him bite and suck at your skin like an eager leech.

“bobby! someone will see!”

he hums. “i know. until i put a ring on that pretty finger there, this should give everyone the message that you are not single.”

[gay-caption-stories-2]

Redemption

Chester kisses your cheek and heads up for his morning showers. Stairs creak. Bathroom door clicks. Pipes hiss. Water running.

You stay in the kitchen. Sun slants hard through the blinds, cutting across the table in warm stripes. Coffee cools beside you. You stack plates without thinking. The hum of the fridge fills the quiet.

Grant leans against the fridge, still nursing the last of his water. Still watching you.

He hasn't said a word since Chester left.

Then:

"So he just forgave you? Just like that?"

You pause. “Yeah. He did.”

“Huh.” Grant tilts his glass, eyeing the condensation.

“He said you’ve been ‘working through it.’”

You rinse a plate. “Because we are.”

“That mean you cried and said sorry, or you actually stopped fucking around?”

You huff. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’ve been watching him play house with someone who clearly doesn’t know how to close their legs.”

You grip the plate tighter.

He keeps going.

“You don’t give off ‘changed man’ energy. You give off ‘repeat offender.’”

You glance over your shoulder. “Grant. Shut the fuck up.”

“Or what?” he says. “You’ll cheat on him again?”

You turn around, drop the plate in the sink louder than you mean to.

His eyes are already on you—low, narrowed, measured.

Then he says it.

“You don’t look like you like it raw.”

Your stomach knots.

“What?”

“You look like the type that moans louder when they get filled. Like you come harder when there’s a mess dripping out of you.”

You blink, stunned. “Jesus Christ. What is your fucking problem?”

He steps forward, slow and calm.

“My problem is I’m in town for four days, and I’ve been needing a mouth to use.” He looks you over. “And it’s real fucking convenient that a cocksucker walks around here pretending to be loyal.”

Your breath catches.

Then his thumbs hook his waistband.

And he drops his shorts.

You flinch.

His cock swings out thick, flushed, already hard, and slaps wet against the edge of the counter.

For a second you just stare.

Then your stomach flips.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you ask, voice quieter now—uncertain.

He doesn't answer.

Just steps closer.

"Did Chester put you up to this?" you say, throat tight. “Is this some kind of fucked-up payback?”

Grant steps in until he’s inches away. You don’t back up.

“You want me to stop?”

You scowl. “Go to hell.”

He reaches forward. Fingers slide into your hair—gentle, like restraint, not force.

Then he presses the head of his cock to your lips.

You open your mouth to tell him to fuck off—

—but he pushes in.

You blink, startled—

—and you’re sucking.

Hot, thick, heavy. The taste of sweat and skin floods your tongue. Your jaw works before you know it. You’re on your knees, hands still hovering like you might push him away, but you don’t.

You glare up at him.

Wide-eyed. Angry. Confused.

Still sucking.

Grant exhales through his nose. His eyes flicker darker.

“Good fucking cocksucker.”

… morning vibes 💥💥💥

http://x.com/purocruising

[suliigwp]

Hi! I've recently found your blog and it's amazing I really like your writing style and was wondering if you could do a rookie fic where she a completely different person around like a sibling or something? And maybe it was caught by paparazzi and the grid is a little shocked seeing rookie look human for once? Again, really great writing and I can't wait for the medieval au

-⭐

Sweet Like Butter

platonic!paddock x rookie!reader | fluff

SULI: FUCK ME HI I'm so sorry you had to wait this long but it's finally here! Km working on a lot of things rn but this has been sitting in my drafts for so long, why not post it— so based on the personality of our rookie I changed it up a little I hope you don't mind🫶 enjoy!! And also — Welcome to the family ⭐ anon, hope you stay long

Short and sweet- something I love about our rookie series, it gives me a time off from the long ass chapters I always write

Warnings: none

The rookie wasn’t like anyone they’d ever met.

She was sweet—everyone agreed on that. She always bowed when people greeted her, even after a year in the paddock. She said “thank you” to every crew member, waved politely at fans even when she was exhausted, and showed up to press conferences with her hair still a little damp because she forgot call time and had to sprint from the team hotel.

“I’m very sorry,” she said breathlessly once, cheeks pink. “I was watching baby goat videos and lost track of time.”

They forgave her immediately.

How could you not? She looked like a Studio Ghibli side character most of the time—always with a snack in hand (usually stolen from catering), legs swinging off the edge of pit wall, asking questions like:

“Do you think the tires have feelings?” “Can I put glitter on my helmet if I qualify top ten?” “What would happen if I licked the trophy?”

No one ever quite knew if she was joking.

Oscar once found her halfway under the team truck looking for her AirPod. She looked up, blinked, and said,

“Don’t tell anyone. If the engineers find me like this, I’ll get put in the toolbox.”

George caught her dragging a cone into hospitality after media day.

“What… are you doing?”

“He looked lonely. His name is Derek.”

She didn’t speak loudly, but her chaos was undeniable.

Lewis called her a “polite gremlin.”

Carlos said she was “like a tiny elf with violent potential.”

Lando just shook his head and said, “She’s got bunny eyes and raccoon energy.”

During races, she was focused—laser-focused. But outside the car, she wandered. Talked to herself. Collected little things like stickers and bottle caps. Her locker had googly eyes on it. No one put them there. When asked, she just said,

“They protect the snacks.”

In interviews, she was sunshine and stumbles.

“The car felt… like, spicy. But in a good way. Like pepper? Jalapeño? Yes. That.”

“Ah—oversteer? Yes. I met him today. Not nice man.”

People loved her. Fans adored her. She was cute, chaotic, and weird in a way that made everyone instinctively want to protect her.

“She’s the type of girl who’d apologize after overtaking you,” Oscar said once.

“She apologized to a curb,” Charles added. “Said she ‘didn’t mean to step on his feelings.’”

And somehow, despite the mess, the language confusion, the sugar crashes and trail of mystery items left in motorhomes… she was fast. She had raw talent, insane cornering instincts, and late-braking habits that made even veterans sweat.

...

It started as a quiet afternoon, just her and her older brother outside a small café near the paddock. The sun was warm, the air filled with the scent of fresh coffee and baked bread, a rare moment away from the frenzy of race weekend.

But then a paparazzo, hidden behind a bush, caught something no one in F1 had seen before.

She was talking to her brother—but not in the soft, tentative English she used for media or teammates.

No. This was her native language, and it was different.

Her voice was calm, controlled, deeper than usual—like she was suddenly the one in charge.

"You know this isn’t the best idea, right?"

Her brother smirked, shaking his head.

"Come on, just relax, I’m just joking."

She folded her arms, eyes sharp but steady.

"You always say that, but then you get yourself into trouble."

There was a pause, then a sudden, soft smile tugged at her lips.

"This time listen to me. I’m the older one."

Her brother laughed—a genuine, easy laugh—and she cracked, too, her entire face lighting up as she dropped her serious tone.

"Haha, alright, big sister. Just don’t tell anyone."

Their laughter echoed in the quiet street—warm, real, unfiltered.

The cameras caught it all.

The grid, watching the clips later, was stunned. That calm, mature voice was so unlike the soft, polite rookie they knew. They’d never imagined this side of her—the boss energy hidden beneath the gentle exterior.

And when she smiled at the end, the adorable girl they loved came rushing back.

The video dropped late Saturday afternoon — just a few minutes of her calmly putting her older brother in check, followed by that warm, infectious laugh at the end.

Within hours, it was everywhere.

Social media exploded:

“Wait… is that our shy rookie? She sounds so bossy! 😂”

“I’m obsessed with this new ‘older sister’ energy 🔥”

“She’s lowkey running the paddock from behind the scenes and we didn’t know.”

“This video just made my day. So cute but don’t mess with her brother!”

On the paddock, drivers couldn’t believe their eyes.

Oscar showed Lando the clip between sessions.

“Dude, she’s got power in that voice.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head.

“I thought she was a soft bunny but nah, she’s a whole CEO.”

Carlos pulled out his phone at the next team meeting.

“Have you guys seen this? Rookie’s got that serious ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe. I’m impressed.”

Even the media caught on.

“From sweet and shy to mature and commanding — rookie driver surprises everyone. #BossBunny"

Back in the garage, her team was both proud and a little overwhelmed.

Her race engineer joked,

“Guess we’re dealing with the silent boss now.”

She just smiled quietly, already half-forgetting the chaos she’d unleashed.

Because to her, this was just normal talk with her brother.

But to the rest of the grid?

She was officially unpredictable — and everyone loved it.

vroom vroom taglist: @miniaturedreamchild @nishimura-mimura @faithxyu @pookynknowntranger @elliott-calls @nemo-fish @sadprimrose @sagestack

Taglist, comment to be added; @angstynasty @cryinghotmess @mits-vi @dramaticpiratellamas @mimisweetz @mrssaturday @chiara8104 @moonlight-girls-posts @linnygirl09 @rue-t @danielricroll @the-vex-archives @trees-are-books @blodwyn4u @yoruse @ccrickett-t @l-a-u-r-aaa @multifans-things @woderfulkawaii @azrinableuet @mayax2o07 @everyday-is-sunday365 @devilacot @faithxyu @freyathehuntress make sure you can be tagged!

[ghoulangerlee]

i dont have a prostate so ive never gotten a prostate exam so suspension of disbelief on this one please lmao

dewther med kink and copia is there running his mouth but like dew is into it. fingering in this one lads, short and sweet this is part of a tumultuous series of aether being a weird guy with a med kink and making it everyone else's problem.

lemme know if anyone has any ideas for other parts. i have another one that's almost done that's copiaether but its very uh strange

anyway, pls enjoy! im sorry i havent posted much or been around a lot recently!

-------------------

"This is only mildly less mortifying with you in here," Dew says, shifting the paper sheet over his lap and tucking it in under his thighs as he sits at the edge of the exam table, legs dangling over it. "I'm not sure why Frater Imperator needs to sit in on my yearly physical."

Copia rolls his eyes and shifts in his chair in the corner of the room, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands across his knee, "Need I remind you, one of us gets anxiety when faced with doctors," he says, "And you asked me to be here, so here I am."

Dew exhales and crinkles the paper sheet again, looking up at the ceiling, "Yeah, yeah," he says after some time, "You're right. Not the biggest fan of these yearly checkups if I'm being honest." He finally looks down and over towards the door, "At least it's Aether doing it and not some stranger."

Copia snorts softly, "Somehow, I feel like that might be worse," he mutters to himself, but smiles, "I'm sure Aether will make the experience a pleasant one for you."

As Dew goes to respond, there's a knock at the door, three careful raps of knuckles against wood before it opens slowly and Aether peeks his head inside, "Are you ready for me?"

"Yeah Big Guy, lets get this over with," Dew says, shifting the sheet over his lap again, "Sooner we finish this, the sooner I can put my clothes back on."

Aether doesn't say anything as he comes inside the room, closing the door behind him; he doesn't acknowledge Copia, just crosses the room to the sink—the sound of the water turning on and the soap dispenser echo in the silence as he hums under his breath, scrubbing at his skin.

Dew blinks a few times, draws his eyes away from where Aether's shoulders bunch under his shirt—a dark gray button down that's stretched tight across his back. Copia's trying and failing to hide an amused look on his face as Dew finally looks at him, raises an eyebrow and mouths what the fuck?

The sink turns off and Aether grabs some napkins, drying his hands efficiently, and then he steps just to the left and grabs a pair of gloves from the box on the wall, all while Dew watches, carefully, mildly confused at the silence and the distance that Aether seems to be keeping himself at.

"Alright Dewdrop," Aether says once he's finally turned around, blue latex gloves snapped into place on his hands, "Part of your yearly physical involves a prostate exam," he nudges the rolling stool closer to himself with his foot, "Do you know what that is, or would you like me to go through what it is and what to expect during it?"

Dew blinks again, "Oh," he says out loud, his voice sounding dumb to his own ears and well, behind him, Copia snorts and it makes him want to reach back and shake the man, "No, I know what it is and what to expect. I just didn't expect you to jump into it so fast."

The corner of Aether's mouth twitches upwards into a smile, "You did say you wanted to put your clothes back on soon," he points out gently, lowering himself down onto the stool, "I'm only moving things along." He rolls closer to the exam table, "Now, if you're ready, please stand up and lean over the bed, however is most comfortable for you, of course, just make sure your feet are at least shoulder length apart."

"Right," Dew says, still thrown off by this weird, uncanny valley version of Aether that almost makes him wonder if Copia told him to act like this to mess with him. "I'll do that," he mumbles and drops down to his feet, keeping the sheet bunched around him as he turns around and faces the bed.

Copia's grinning at him, looking for too amused for so early in the morning and Dew just bares his teeth at him as he leans over on the table, bracing himself on his elbows and widening his feet, feeling oddly exposed even though both of the men in this room have seen him naked numerous times.

"Well done," Aether says gently, and then he's taking the sheet and moving it aside, baring Dew's entire naked body to the room, "Next, you're going to feel my fingers, no lubricant yet, I won't push in, I'm just feeling for any abnormalities or anything that's of concern," he murmurs, keeping his voice low as he rests one hand on Dew's lower back.

Dew huffs out an answer, something affirmative, and shifts his stance, letting his head drop down because he can't stand the idea of Copia watching him anymore as he feels the press of gloved fingers against his hole, a gentle yet firm touch.

Aether doesn't seem to linger, keeps it almost clinical and Dew has to talk himself out of wanting to rock back on his toes when he feels an almost too firm press right against his rim, the low hum Aether lets out isn't concerning but the way his own body reacts to it is—something akin to shame bubbling up in his chest when he feels his cock start to harden.

"Alright Dewdrop," Aether says, and Dew has to stop himself from sinking to his knees in relief when the touch pulls away. "I'm just going to grab some lubricant, and then I'm going to put some on my finger and gently insert it. If you feel any extreme pain or discomfort please let me know."

Dew mumbles another affirmative, listening as Aether shuffles around behind him, a drawer opening and the rustle of something, he tunes it out as he looks up at Copia—Copia who's grinning at him still, who has a bit of a flush across his cheeks.

"What are you looking at," He grumbles, bracing himself when he feels Aether's hand go back to his lower back again.

Copia mimes zipping his lips, teeth digging into the skin of his lower lip and making it flush a little.

"It may be a little cold," Aether murmurs, a warning.

Dew inhales sharply—its not cold, really but it's shocking, the latex and the lubricant is a weird sensation, and he flexes his toes against the floor as he feels the tip of Aether's finger press into him—he thinks fleetingly that Aether is going to stop and let him get used to it, so sudden and shocking, but he doesn't, just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing until Dew can feel the knuckle of his finger flush against him.

"Are you okay?" Aether asks finally, only after flexing his finger a bit, palpating his insides the tiniest amount, "Deep breaths for me, alright?"

He inhales, deep and sharp as he looks up again, and Copia is closer now, having scooted his chair further into the room, his hand is on the bed, near Dew's, palm up and open, waiting—he takes it holds on tight and tilts his head into their clasped hands, forehead nudging their fingers.

"Just breathe, don't tense up," Aether's saying behind him, murmuring, still palpating his finger every so often, decidedly not against his prostate.

"Guh," Dew manages, though it's not much, taking deep breaths in through his mouth and out through his nose until he feels his body untense.

Aether's hand, the one on his back, rubs a broad circle along the center of it, murmuring soft praises for several moments, and then, "Alright, now I'm going to press my finger into your prostate. I'm going to do this in little increments. If you feel anything painful or uncomfortable just let me know."

Dew nods, doesn't trust his voice, and squeezes Copia's hand tighter when Aether starts moving his finger, curls it a bit, presses forward and oh he can't help the gasp that he muffles into Copia's sleeve, taking the cloth between his teeth and biting down on it as he presses his toes so hard into the floor he can barely feel them.

"Right there," Aether says, voice sounding normal, oh so normal, as if he doesn't have Dew already feeling on the edge just from a little petting and a single finger. "Nothing to note about the feel. No anomalies." He presses again, a bit harder.

Dew shuts his eyes and nearly moans out loud, rolling his forehead against their conjoined hands.

"Dewdrop, can you turn your head and cough for me?"

The words don't register at first, it takes him several minutes to realize that Aether's even said something, "Hm?"

"Turn your head and cough," Copia says, amused, "Let Aether get on with the exam."

Dew makes a noise, "Fuck you," he mumbles around a mouthful of Copia's sleeve, "Give me a minute."

Aether waits patiently, doesn't push and eventually, Dew unlatches his teeth from Copia's sleeve, turns his head, feels Aether's finger press a bit firm against his prostate and he moans, loud and open into the room, his cock hard and heavy between his legs now.

"...not quite a cough," Aether says lightly, some amusement in his voice, "A cough please," he prods gently, nudging the tip of his finger against Dew's prostate again.

Mortified, Dew drops his head against the table and his and Copia's hands and after several minutes of trying to convince himself he doesn't need to wiggle his way out of this and just leave, he manages to cough, loud and fake to his ears but it makes Aether do that hum thing again and he feels like he's accomplished something positive out of this situation at least.

"Thank you," Aether says, and Dew thinks it's finally over, he'll be able to leave this situation with some dignity intact, but instead of pulling his finger out and moving away, Aether presses Dew down against the bed with the hand on his lower back. "Now relax," he murmurs, voice low and smooth.

Copia's grinning again, and Dew wants to ask him why, wants to question it, but quick and efficient, the hand on his back moves—but only for a moment before it's back and then he feels it, another finger pressing into him in the same manner as the first—slippery with lubricant and thick, unyielding as it pushes and pushes and pushes.

Dew groans out loud again, can't help but try to rock up on his toes to either get away or push back into the touch as Aether pets at his insides with two fingers now, pressing and rubbing at his prostate with a laser focus that has him feeling breathless, hurtling towards his end faster than he expected.

"Oh—I—augh," he tries to get out, a warning maybe as he feels his cock kick, focuses on the way Aether's pressing insistently at his prostate over and over and over until a sharp, short scream tears its way out of his mouth, heels coming off the floor as he comes so suddenly it knocks the air out of him, his vision going a little fuzzy around the edges, tears welling up in his eyes at the intensity of it.

"Good boy," Aether murmurs, finally sounding more like himself, petting his gloved hand down Dew's back as he leaves his fingers inside him for a moment to give him something to clench around as he fights to come down from the sudden and quick orgasm.

"He's really good at that," Copia says with a little laugh, leaning in close to brush a kiss over Dew's sweaty temple, "The medical exam part and the part where he makes you come afterwards," he mumbles, combing his fingers through Dew's hair.

"Satan, you are such a pervert," Dew manages to mumble, but who he's talking to he's not sure, leaning into Copia a bit. "My legs feel like jelly."

Aether hums softly, waits for several more moments before he withdraws his fingers, and there's the snap of latex as he removes his gloves, but then his hands are on Dew again, bare this time as he maneuvers him back up onto the exam table, "Rest," he says, there's humor in his voice, fondness, and then he comes around the side of the table, drops a kiss into Copia's hair before turning his attention on Dew.

"You horrible, horrible man," Dew mumbles, "I'm going to be conditioned to get hard anytime I have a doctor shove a finger up my ass now," he says, half complaining, even as Aether leans over and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, his jaw, "Am I going to have to have an actual yearly checkup done at a later time? Was this some dirty roleplay for you?"

Aether snorts softly in amusement and cuts off his questioning with a kiss, sweet and gentle, "Don't worry, you passed the exam, you're due again next year. I'll do it." He smiles at him, "And no, this is not just some dirty roleplay," he wrinkles his nose a bit, "I wanted to make it less anxiety inducing for you. That's all."

It's touching, even if Dew's sure his legs are going to shake for the rest of the day, "You're very sweet," he says, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Aether's shirt. "Kiss me again, and then I want my clothes. I feel like there was something freaky that happened between you two that started this whole thing and I want to get cleaned up, get out of here, and then I want all the dirty, disgusting details about Copia's very obvious doctor kink. With a demonstration."

Aether laughs but eagerly complies.

[bts-preference]

17. When he has a crush on you

Namjoon: 'I've fucked up,' he thinks to himself. What started as trying to get to know to you more; turned into him accidentally saying he also knew who your favorite author is (because he's a well-read man after all); turned into a coffee date for tomorrow to dissect your favorite author's latest release. He turns the thick novel over in his hands, having already tried looking up cliff notes on the book (which don't exist this time). Finally accepting his fate, he gets settled on his couch, prepared to read a 600-page novel in one night, all because of his crush on you.

Jin: While this is certainly not a case of "he's mean to you because he likes you," Jin does consider teasing you (once he realizes you are OK with it, and willing to give it back to him) a form of affection. Jokes, sarcasm, and roasts become your way of flirting with one another. Despite knowing Jin's sense of humor, the members are still confused by your interactions in the beginning. "Are you and (Y/N) still fighting?" one of the members ask him after spending time with the both of you a few days ago. Confused by the question, Jin responds, "We've never argued before."

Yoongi: 'Will he ever see me as more than a friend?' you often wonder after parting ways with him. While at the same time, he is beating himself up, thinking, 'Why was I so obvious?' after every interaction with you. Apparently, you are supposed to pick up on his hardly there, subtle signs - eye contact for a second longer than what he typically is used to; a smile just a millimeter larger compared to how he normally smiles; a quick pat on your arm or shoulder that almost goes unnoticed. In his opinion, his crush on you is the most apparent thing in the world. He's just not sure why you haven't noticed.

Hoseok: With how much he talks about you ("guess what (Y/N) told me today;" "look at this selfie we took together"), the members feel like they are already best friends with you, and they haven't even met you yet. "Hobi, do you know what a swear jar is?" one of the members asks him one day, cutting him off mid-monologue about you. Hoseok nods his head. "Well, I'm going to set one up, but it's going to be a (Y/N) jar," they explain, jokingly, "You have to start paying to talk about them." Hoseok pulls out his wallet and takes out several bills, "That should cover me for a little bit."

Jimin: Getting ready to start rehearsal, Namjoon notices someone is missing. "Where's Jimin?" he asks the other members after taking a mental roll call. "With (Y/N)," the other members reply in unison, unfazed. As if on cue, Jimin bursts into the practice room, "Sorry, I was-" "With (Y/N)," they say in unison again, still unfazed. Half-impressed by their talking in unison, half-shocked that they picked up on how much time he has spent with you, Jimin opens his mouth to argue, but he is swiftly interrupted. "We're not mad," one of the members insists, "But don't even bother denying it."

Taehyung: Without mentioning the word "crush," he still gives you glimpses into how feels about you. He thinks you look pretty today? "Why are you so cute?" he asks you. You stop and have a deep conversation with him? "Your mind is so beautiful," he tells you. You hit a major milestone at work? "That's my girl," he smiles, pulling you into his arms. His compliments and words of encouragement alone sometimes leaves your head spinning. However, you have to steady yourself because he still hasn't told you that he likes you as more than a friend, and maybe this is just how treats his friends?

Jungkook: When he's around you, he's a mess - heart racing; nervous hands; tripping over words; eyes locked on you, and only you; laughing too hard at a joke you said (maybe not all of these things at once, but at least one of them). He also second guesses everything. "(Y/N), I got a last minute invite to a listening party, do you want to be my plus one?" he asks you. But without waiting for a reply, he continues, "Don't feel pressured to say 'yes,' by the way. If you don't want to go, it's not big deal. You know what? Never mind, it was a stupid idea." You giggle, unperturbed by him, "I would love to go."

Author's Note: Would anyone want a part two for this? I know I wrote this, but I went into this one expecting there to be a little more fluff than what I ended up writing.

[rrat-king]

literally have no one else to share this brainrot with but I thought maybe it would make you as insane as it makes me

not one adult ever questioned kristen not getting the mail from the school at mordred manor - no one ever bothered to make sure she wouldn't be sent back to her parents, that she was accepted into the family, that her paperwork was in order. Jawbone knew she was failing but didn't question the fact that the mail never showed despite the fact that they must have gotten it for fig (while they were fighting the night yorb) - not one adult ever really checks in on her, or how shes coping with Cassandra, or losing her family or any of her many other problems

of course kristen goes off the rails - her only real support left and it must have become so clear that no one else ever really bothered to make sure she was alright - the only adult who even tried literally died after she went to them for help (badgood) and not one person ever seems to think this might cause problems for her???

idk shes just the perfect example of the trope of being overly capable so no one even checks on her - shes so obviously overcorrecting from heloic puritanical beliefs, in such a self-destructive way (her intense fixation on sex and sexuality for example) and everyone brushes it off as kristen just being kristen, instead of a problem that needs to be addressed (looking at you sandra lynn)

she is just so deeply neglected and its so horrifying - as below, so above - Cassandra is a reflection of kristen and when faced with it (constantly seeking assurance and begging for someone to care) kristen literally cant face it, must call it annoying, because surely this is to much, you cannot ask for this, you have to take what is given, must take responsibility yourself, you must be a shield not shielded

and you cannot even fully blame any of the adults because so fucking much is happening, when do they have time?? this is not jawbone or sandralynn hate lmao I love them both I just also think that kristen deserves more attention

anyway i love taking the improv way to seriously and overthinking throwaway lines and also thinking about kristen applebees lmao so sorry for ranting in your inbox

yes yes eys esy it is our right to take every throw away line directly to heart it is the passion of the blorbo lover and this is just !!!! yes absolutly never apologize for inbox ranting!!

kristen is so fascinating in the fact that she is often So Willing to ask adults around her for help (see going to daybreak in fy, sandra lynn in sy, hell she even goes to try and talk and work with bobby dawn in jy when it's activly dangerous for her) but it's usually in the name of others, she is so so bad at asking for help for herself.

and that's why we even see sandra lynn kinda give up on her just cuz she's so fucking confused and thinks "ok, fine, i'll give her space and not touch her hot mess". her own parents do it too!! and its all just this defense to hide the fact that she's doing So Bad so often and struggles to take that seriosoulsy cuz it would kill her to recognize that part of herself i think.

grahh yeah i could think about her forever you are incredibly right

[faistizer]

May I request downbad!connor Murphy x popular!reader please please please!!!!

downbad!connor murphy x popular!reader

ashtrays and pretty girls

note: this is my first request, thank you so much!! :D warnings: mention of drugs (weed), implied sex

you and connor meet when you're trying to buy weed off of him.

he's used to popular girls like you trying to get his shit, looking at him all rude, snapping their fingers at him, but you're different.

you're actually nice to him

you're actually nice to him. not sugary and sweet, fake-nice to get a cheaper price, but asking him about his day, asking about the bands he stuck on the wall nice.

you giggled when he said "that'll be thirty, princess," you reply "no one's ever called me that before."

he laughed back as he took your money, eyeing you up and down, "well, you certainly look like one."

he notices how pretty look, with your glossy lips in a smile and how your manicured nails push you hair behind your ear

he notices how you're not a fucking bitch like most of your friends, you don't laugh at the jokes the other girls make, you don't throw yourself at jocks. you roll your eyes when they put their arm around you, like a little glittery bird trapped in a cage.

and you come back a week later, not for weed, for him

you sit on his gross mattress, a glowing contrast to his black and smokey room, a barbie doll to his stoner vibe

you talk about silly things that don't even matter as he smokes a cigarette, you ask him why he doesn't talk to people, he tells you to shut up, you don't and catch him staring at your mouth

he asks, "why are you being so nice to me?"

you respond with "why aren't you being mean to me?" because this is connor murphy, the guy who threw a printer at Mrs. G in the second grade connor murphy

he shrugs and both of you stay quiet, staring at the hole in the wall where he punched it a few months ago

he looks at you again, whispers "you're really pretty"

you laugh and answer, "i know"

and fuck, he's just really cute with that mess of hair on his head and you pull him by the collar and kiss him

he pulls away, a confused and dazed expression on his face like what the fuck just happened, but you're already straddling his lap

"i'm not drunk or high if that's what you're wondering"

"we shouldn't-" "why not?"

he seems to think about it for a moment before he kisses you again, it's messy, teeth and tongue, hands in each other's hair- he tastes like weed and cheap energy drinks that you see piled on his nightstand. you let him fuck up your lip gloss

he keeps mumbling- "fuck, fuck, fuck, is this real, jesus christ-"

you have to squeeze his shoulders and assure him that- yes, this is fucking real.

"have you ever done this before?" you ask when you kiss up his neck, he shakes his head, a bit embarrassed, cheeks red but you don't mind- "cute," you even say. connor kind of wants to die but when you suck another hickey onto his collarbone, he shuts up

you leave with your shirt inside out, and connor is wearing the biggest smile he's ever had in years.

the next day at school, the pale skin of his neck is littered with red marks and bruises, your has a singular bite mark that you didn't even cover up.

you wink at him, he thinks he's going to melt into a puddle, he would genuinely do anything for you- if he can do anything.

he nearly throws up when you pass him a note in class, he even went to class- he never does that! he always skips.

he opens it and it's in pink sparkly gel, cursive, hearts on the i's- 'do you wanna hang out with me later?'

he scribbles back a 'yes' and internally cheers, fireworks in his stomach.

after school, you end up smoking at the skate park no one goes to anymore and make out a bit

you ask him if he wants to be your boyfriend, he nods and you giggle, playing with his hair.

all of a sudden, he's consumed in this pink world- following you around at the mall while he scrunches up his nose at the perfumes.

they only smell good when they're on you.

he shrugs when you ask him if he likes this shade of nail polish better or the other one, he tells you that they look the same.

you huff and say something about how one of them is coral pink and the other one is strawberry pink. you choose a black polish for him and end up painting his nails later in his room.

mid-make out sesh, you ask him if he's going to come to the pep-rally to come see you cheer

he tells you that he's really not a guy that goes to pep rallies, but all it takes is a pout and kiss on place beneath his ear to get him to change his mind.

so he sits on the bleachers, in his hoodie, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches you do flips and shit. he's honestly impressed, he claps and laughs as you run his way.

you're ignoring all the glares from your 'friends' and their boyfriends, he's ignoring all the 'school shooter chic vibes, man' comments.

a jock rolls his eyes as he passes saying something about how you should date someone at your own level

you literally see red and tell him off, yelling at him, calling him names and connor has never seen anything hotter in his life.

the jock backs off, flushed with embarrassment, and you kiss connor in front of everyone. connor kind of feels like he's in a dream

you go for milkshakes at the diner afterwards, as you ramble on about some shit, he just stares at you wondering how the fuck did connor murphy go from loner freak to supportive cheer boyfriend that's spends his time at the mall choosing between different shades of lip gloss that all seem the same to him.

but he's happy that you're happy and this is seriously that happiest he's ever been in a while. since rehab, since any other bullshit

and he knows for a fact, he'd do anything for you.

god, he's so downbad for you.

[spaceycat]

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 ࣪𖤐₊˚ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗. ☄. *

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: kill of the night by gin wigmore (5:25) // ༉‧₊ " the danger is i'm dangerous, and i might just tear you apart.. i'm gonna get ya, i'm gonna get ya get ya." ☆˚₊

✰ pairing: psycho mask!josh washington x fem!reader

✰ cw: dead dove do not eat if you squint LOL, gunplay (not a real gun), threatens of murder, blowjob, p in v sex, facedown doggy, no one actually gets hurt, spit kink, swearing.

✰ word count: 1.3k+

✰ summary: you found josh's psycho mask in a closet while cleaning and managed to convince him to fuck you in it, he really got into character.

✰ a/n: this fic has been in my drafts since february 1st and i sincerely apologise.....

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༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ psycho/josh !!

You were initially just searching for something in the closets and boxes in the lodge, thats when you found the sheer amount of things that the Washingtons were harbouring just out of sight. So you took it upon yourself as the very kind daughter-in-law to clean out the mess that was their clutter. You were a solid way through it, separating items into 'keep', 'sell' and 'maybe' (items you had to consult with josh) boxes, thats when something caught your eye. It was that mask that Josh wore way back when to a Halloween party that Mike hosted, looking at it now - you forgot how hot he looked with it on. You couldn't see his face obviously, but his mood and personality shifted a bit.

He became more confident, charismatic if that's even possible for Josh. You've kind of forgotten about it until now, and you had some ideas.

You found Josh sitting on his bed in his room, developing some pictures he took on his computer. He was deep in it until he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Josh looked up at you, taking note of the grin on your face and your arms behind your back. "What's got you all giddy? Find something interesting?" He closed and set aside his computer, that's when you moved onto the bed - settling beside him.

His arm settled around your shoulders, slipping back and grabbing the mask from behind you. "Hey--" You scoffed trying to get it from him, but he held it high. "What's this?" He looked at it confused, moving it in front of him to look at it better. "Is this that mask that I wore to Mike's party?" He let you snatch it from his hands. "Yeah." You muttered, hand swiping off some of the dust of it. "And why do you have that, babe?" He tilted his head at you, hand moving back around your shoulders.

You couldn't deny the blush that crept up to dust your cheeks, "It's nothing--" He clicked his tongue, "It's clearly not." You let out a breath, "It's like-- weird." "I'm into weird." "I was thinking maybe you could.." You paused for a moment, "Do you want to have sex in this?" He sucked in a breath at your bluntness, a look of confusion moving over his face before shifting into something different. "In this? With the mask on?" "..Yeah." "Then how are you gonna see my pretty face?" He cooed, moving closer to you. You slammed the mask into his chest and he caught it sliding down his chest. "Yes or no, Josh?" "..I'm open to it." He looked down at the plastic mask in his hands, "I'm sure I can find the rest of the costume somewhere."

And that's how you found yourself, sitting down in front of the edge of the bed - the carpet burning the skin of your knees in a sickeningly sweet way. Josh was above you, wearing that mask and the rest of that outfit he did on Halloween.

There was something about how his breathing was heavy and his head was tilted as you saw a flicker of his eyes through the cutout of the mask. You started to unzip his jeans, palming his hard cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. "There you go, Bunny." He murmured, his voice deeper. Darker, than usual. You slowly pulled out his hard cock, seeing the delicious beads of pre-cum coming from the tip. "Open your mouth, wide." He tapped the tip of his cock against your lips. You accommodated, opening up your mouth - he slowly slipped his cock into your mouth. "If you're good, angel.. maybe I'll fuck you."

He practically fucked your throat, spit dripping down the sides of your mouth to your chin. "So messy-" You instinctively moaned around his cock, this change of character turned you on so hard - your hand slipping down into your sweatpants and panties, circling your puffy, neglected clit. He tsked, grabbing your arm. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" You shook your head, looking up at him with eager eyes. He let out a breath, "Alright, get up." You looked confused for a moment, getting up off your knees. That's when he grabbed your arm, pulling you onto the bed - settling you onto your stomach. He pushed your ass into the air, his other hand pushing your head down into the pillows. "I'm gonna take off my mask." He mumbled, you heard him opening the bedside drawer - confused you tried to lift your head but was met with cool metal. "Josh?--" "Uh uh.. head down." You obeyed, that's when you felt the bed dip, his warm breath against your ear. "Don't worry.. it's not loaded, baby." You then felt him pull your sweatpants and panties down, the cool air meeting your swollen, warm cunt. "So wet.." He mumbled, "You like this, bunny?" Josh parted your folds with his pointer and middle finger, watching how you clenched around nothing - a moan leaving your lips, muffled by the pillows. He spit directly onto your wanting pussy, his fingers dragging the wetness up and down, your hole to your clit. "I'm gonna take off my mask now.." He paused for a moment, "And you can't look, if you look I'll blow your fucking brains out, understood?" You didn't respond, he pushed the gun into your head harder. "Understood?" "Y-Yes, I under.. I understand." "Good little bunny."

You heard him slip off his mask settling it down on the pillow next to your head. Then you felt his cock slip up and down your pussy, tapping against your clit. His gloved hand moved to your hip for leverage as he slowly sunk his cock inside of you. "So tight, feel s'good.." He slowly rocked his cock inside of you.

The feeling of his cock inside of you and the depravity of being able to feel and see him added to the sensation of how full you felt, how used. You started to grind your hips back to meet his thrusts, "C'mon, tiny.. use me. You wanted this so bad, now use me." He weaved his hand underneath you, his fingers meeting your clit as his other hand pulled you up by your hair. Seating you in his lap, his cock driving deeper into you, touching that spot that made you see stars. That's when you felt the gun pressed underneath your chin, "Remember, no looking, angel." The cool gun metal against your hot skin felt good, too good as you continued to rocked your hips back against the rhythm of his own.

Your moans became louder and higher pitched as you felt that sensation pooling in your tummy. Josh knew, of course he did - from the way you were clenching on his cock and bouncing on it like there was no tomorrow. "Cum for me." He murmured against your ear, his fingers moving faster against your bundle of nerves. Your eyes closing as the sensation overtook you, hips staggering as you came the hardest you ever did.

His hips didn't let up, searching for his own release - not caring that you were trying to push yourself off of him from overstimulation. His hips faltered as he burrowed and came deep inside of you, his cum painting your insides as his head rested against the crook of your neck.

Your eyes remained closed as he locked your lips in a kiss, "..So good for me, baby.. you did so good." He murmured against your lips.

"Let's get you cleaned up okay?" "Okay.."

You both knew that that mask would become a common thing for the two of you.

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

I Love You Pt. 2

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 15 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Chapter

You settled into a nice routine, which often included messaging the group chat to see if any of the boys were home or available every morning. This particular day, you found yourself heading up to the maknae’s dorm in search of Seungmin, who promised you he had a few hours to watch a movie with you. It wasn’t until you got there that you realized he wasn’t the only one there.

Hyunjin was in the kitchen when you arrived. You didn’t realize until you were walking down the hall and passed by the doorway, freezing your body when you caught sight of the dancer as if you had just been caught sneaking out. He also froze, a cup halfway up to his mouth, blinking at you in confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“Gunna watch a movie with Seungmin. What are you doing here?”

He looked down at his cup. “… nothing.”

“Is that Minho’s special tea?”

“Please don’t tell him,” Hyunjin pleaded, dropping the cup to the counter with a loud clack. “He’ll kill me.”

“Fine. But only if you make me a cup.”

“Deal.”

Seungmin showed up a few minutes later when you didn’t answer his text, taking in the two of you and the guilty looks you sported.

He smirked. “Hyung’s tea? Really?”

“Don’t tell him,” You pleaded. “He’ll kill us.”

With a smile that sent shivers up your spine, the young singer reached for his phone. You let out a laugh as you lunged for him, trying to block his sight, and he playfully grabbed you with one arm, using the other to hold his phone away from your reach. Seungmin was surprisingly strong, and you found yourself unable to do anything as the photo app was pulled up.

“Hyunjin, help!”

Things quickly went to chaos after that. The two of you managed to get the phone out of Seungmin’s hands, but Hyunjin wasn’t expecting the other boy to tackle him against the counter, both of them laughing and screaming as they wrestled for the phone. You tried to grab it out of their hands yourself, but you miscalculated.

Your socks slipped against the floor, and with a yelp, you reached out to grab onto the boys for stability. Hyunjin was pulled to the ground by Seungmin, his arms flailing as he went down. You hit the side of the counter just as one of the cups of tea was flung in your direction, and you let out a shout as hot liquid hit your chest, neck, and the left side of your face.

“Shit!” You swiped your hand across your face, and the other two grew quiet as they realized what had happened.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Seungmin was the first to react, pulling you towards the sink. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You assured him, letting him use a wet towel to wipe away the liquid from your skin. While the tea had been hot and definitely uncomfortable, it wasn’t hot enough to cause any burns. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It didn’t burn you?” Hyunjin pressed his fingers to the skin, but immediately pulled away when he realized he was leaving marks. “It looks red.”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t hot enough for that. Really.”

“Aish. You should have been more careful,” Seungmin muttered, gently pulling at the collar of your shirt to wipe at your collarbones and shoulder.

You gaped at him. “Me?! You were the one who spilled the tea!”

“Actually, I think that was me,” Hyunjin admitted with a grimace, rubbing his hand.

You pulled at your shirt. “Ugh, I need a shower. Why is it sticky?”

Hyunjin let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and it took you a second to realize why. You slapped him on the arm. Seungmin rolled his eyes at his team member, throwing the wet towel at the dancer’s face, and gently guiding you down the hall.

“Clean up the mess!” He yelled to Hyunjin, turning to you with softer eyes. “You can use my shower.”

You didn’t take a long shower, not even washing your hair since you were just rinsing the tea off. Seungmin had offered you one of his shirts to wear while yours went through the laundry, so you stopped by the laundry room to load up some clothes (you figured you might as well wash the rest of the dirty laundry at the same time) and emerged into the living room to spot both boys now calmly sitting on the couch. The tv show you had been planning to watch was loaded up on the screen, and Seungmin looked up when you entered.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” You told him, motioning to the shirt he had lent you.

Seungmin looked you up and down in a way that had goosebumps breaking out along your skin. He looked back down to his phone nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it.” You pretended not to see him smile down at his phone.

“Man, now I want you to wear my clothes,” Hyunjin whined from his spot on the couch.

You sighed, sitting down in between both of them. “Boys.”

“What! You look hot wearing our clothes.” He pouted. “Just wish it was my clothes.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” Seungmin said, looking up at you with his brows raised. From the other side, Hyunjin perked his head up like a puppy who just hear the word ‘treats’ being mentioned.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Even as the show started up and you settled back to get comfy, you couldn’t help but notice Hyunjin’s pout from the corner of your eye. He only pouted harder when you turned towards him, making a point to look as dejected as possible, curling up on his side of the couch by himself. You let out a sigh, and he peeked at you with a hopeful look.

You sat up straight. “Wow. It’s really cold in here.”

“Do you want me to turn the AC down?” Seungmin offered, already reaching for the remote.

You slapped his shoulder gently, now exaggerating your voice at him. “I could really use a sweater!”

He snorted, settling back down once he realized what you were up to. It took Hyunjin a few seconds, but the dancer finally caught on once you both turned to him with expectant looks, his entire face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh!” He grabbed the ends of his sweater, struggling to get it off. “I got it! Wait- hold on .. Ash.”

He almost threw the thing across the room when he finally got it off, hair sticking up from the static electricity. Seungmin let out a cackle of laughter.

Hyunjin didn’t even seem bothered as he offered you his sweater. “Here.”

Now wrapped up in clothes from both boys, you were finally able to settle down to watch the show in peace. You didn’t want to admit it to them, but you actually did enjoy wearing their clothes. You found yourself pulling the ends of Hyunjin’s sweater past your hands, pressing the fabric to your nose and softly inhaling the scent that was a mix of laundry detergent and just … him. You smiled softly.

Halfway through the show, Seungmin reached out and grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your face and into his lap. Without even having to be asked, you reached out with your other hand and grabbed Hyunjin’s hand so that the three of you were connected. The soundtrack picked up, a beautiful melody that had you feeling sentimental.

“I love you guys,” You whispered.

Seungmin’s lips twitched up, and Hyunjin squeezed your hand.

“I love you more,” the dancer said, leaning his body against you.

Seungmin side eyed him. “No.”

“Eh?”

He pulled you away from the older boy, pulling you half into his lap and wrapping his arms around you, effectively blocking you from Hyunjin with his own body. Said member gaped at the change in seating.

“Yah, puppy. Give them back.”

“No.”

“You little-“

The show was practically forgotten as you were suddenly caught up in another wrestling match. Thankfully, this time, nobody got anything spilled on them, although Hyunjin did once again end up on the ground with Seungmin sitting on top of him by the time the show ended. It was only then that he shot you a bashful smile, swiping his hair out of his eyes.

“I love you more.”

“No, I-!”

You surged forward, nearly tackling the singer to the ground, but he managed to catch himself on his elbows as you pressed your lips to his. While he wasn’t the one being actively silenced, Hyunjin let out a wheeze that clued you in to exactly why he had suddenly gone quiet, and you quickly lifted yourself up to check up on him. At your questioning, he gave you a weak thumbs up, curled up in a fetal position.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

He would later tell you that the kiss you gave him more than made up for the pain.

-0-0-

The first time you ever ventured your way to a new part of the company building was on a very special day. At least, it was to you. It just so happened that the first person who answered your text was Felix, letting you know he was in one of the practice rooms waiting for the other members to show up for their practice. Granted, he also let you know he was half an hour early and was just goofing around while he waited, so you figured since you wanted to see the other boys as well, you might as well wait around with him. The dancer met you out in the hall, and you couldn’t help but run towards him the moment you saw him, jumping into his arms.

Felix almost didn’t catch you.

“Whoa, you’re in a good mood,” He said, pulling you into a warm hug.

You pulled away with a fake frown. “Don’t tell me you didn’t remember.”

He froze. “Oh no. Did I forget something?”

At his genuinely distressed look, you took pity on him, letting out a giggle and cluing Felix in that the situation was not that serious.

“Its okay, it’s not that big a deal,” You assured him, biting your lip. “It’s just … it’s officially been 6 months since we’ve met.”

The blonde blinked. “Oh, really? Wait, it’s already been 6 months?!”

“Half a year! Happy anniversary,” You joked.

He let out a laugh, pulling you back in.

“Happy anniversary.” He buried his face into your shoulder. “I’m so glad Innie found you.”

“Hey! I found him,” You corrected, brushing hair behind his ear. “I found all of you.”

“Hmm, you did.”

You shivered as he pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck, pushing him away by his shoulders with a quick look around the hallway. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anyone around, You gently hit him on the chest in warning.

“Careful. I’m already on the shit list of one of your managers, I don’t need to be lectured by another.”

“It’s fine. The only people who use these rooms are artists, and half of them are also in secret relationships. They won’t care.”

“That’s not the poINT!”

The end of your sentence was cut off into a squeal as Felix spun you around with a chuckle, lifting you off your feet with his hands on your thighs, pulling you in close to him until your bodies were flush. The sudden change of balance had him stumbling forward, your body hitting the wall a little too hard, and he let out a soft curse.

“Sorry.”

You giggled. “It’s okay. What has gotten into you?”

“I love you,” He said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“What?”

“I-“ another kiss to your lips. “Love-“ a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You.”

He blew a raspberry to your cheeks, and you let out a laugh, kicking your legs in glee. You wrapped your arms around his neck, soft hair tickling the tips of your fingers as you laced them together, head tilting to the side as you took in the man in front of you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” You sighed, giving him a smile.

His eyes lit up like you had just told him the meaning of life. “Yeah?”

You nodded your head, licking your lips. “Yeah. I love you so much.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

-0-0-

Dad

Hey. Just checking in on you. How’s school going? I hope you’re having fun.

School’s fine, same as always.

Been seeing all kinds of places.

Went hiking with two of my soulmates the other day

 It was … fun.

I thought you liked hiking?

The hiking was fine. Waking up at 5 in the morning was not.

Wow. They managed to get you up before 9?

That’s a miracle. You must really love them.

They wanted to see the sunrise.

I have to admit, it was worth it.

[IMG.JPG]

Looks beautiful. I’m glad you’re doing okay.

What about you? Everything all right back home?

Everything’s fine. You know how your mom is. She misses you.

I miss you guys too.

I gtg. Love you.

Love you more.

-0-0-

“Here, try this.”

You looked up, startling back at the sudden appearance of a spoon in front of your face. Minho held a hand under the spoon to prevent the substance from falling, and you smiled at his thoughtfulness. You really shouldn’t have been surprised to get a spoonful of soy sauce.

“Oh, ew. That’s gross.”

Minho giggled, shirking away from the hit you aimed at his shoulder. “That’s for drinking my tea.”

“Who snitched! Was it Seungmin? I swear to god, I’m gunna kill him.”

Minho just laughed as he made his way back to the kitchen where he was preparing actual food for dinner. Deciding to take a break from your work, you stretched in your seat and let out a groan. The dorm was uncharacteristically quiet considering that at least 5 members were home.

Minho was, as previously mentioned, cooking dinner in the kitchen. Felix and Seungmin were playing a game in the elder’s room, and you were pretty sure Hyunjin was taking a nap in Jeongin’s room. You weren’t sure if the youngest was with the gaming boys or taking a nap with Hyunjin, but you were sure he was home. 3Racha had just sent a text that they were leaving the studio.

You sneaked into the kitchen, making sure Minho wasn’t currently doing anything at the stove before you wrapped your arms around him, effectively trapping his arms to his body. He paused from where he had been chopping, letting out a soft sigh.

“Gotcha,” You murmured, pressing your forehead against his back.

It wasn’t hard for him to slip an arm out of your grasp, turning around so that he could pull you into his chest. You went along willingly, letting his warmth embrace you. The two of you stayed there for a few seconds, softly breathing against each other, the kitchen filling up with the delicious aroma of whatever was starting to boil on the stove. It was only because you didn’t want the food to burn that you let him go.

“Hey, can you play some music?” He asked you.

“Sure.”

You randomized your playlist, not even embarrassed when it was a Stray Kids song that came up first. Minho smiled to himself, giving you a side glance, but you just bopped your head along and attempted the dance to the best of your abilities, even though you were sure you looked like a wiggling worm who suddenly gained a pair of legs. You were either doing better or worse than you thought because Minho actually stopped stirring to stare at you.

Suddenly you were embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” He told you, turning back around.

“Somehow that doesn’t give me much confidence,” You joked.

“Pass me the carrots?”

You grabbed the recently chopped carrots, leaning up against the counter as you watched him pour them into the soup. This time, when he offered you up a spoonful, you could actually trust it wasn’t going to be a prank.

It tasted amazing. You had never expected anything less.

“Good?”

“Hmm.” You licked your lips with a nod, and his eyes darted down. You couldn’t help but smile. “Hungry?”

“Watch it,” He warned you, turning the stove off with a flick of his wrist.

“Or what?”

You pouted when all you got in turn was a tap to your nose, your playlist switching to a slower ballad. The pout disappeared as Minho grabbed one of your hands, the other pressing up against your waist and swaying you side to side. When he pulled you back and began to spin the two of you around the room, you laughed.

“You are so cheesy,” You breathed, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“And you’re a terrible dancer.”

You weren’t sure if he kissed you as an apology, or to keep you from complaining, but you found yourself melting against him nonetheless. You didn’t usually kiss Minho often, usually getting pecks as a hello or a goodbye, but you appreciated the slow passionate way he was kissing you now. It wasn’t until the music began to change and his hands dropped yours in favor of pulling you closer by the back of your neck that you began to wonder if this was different somehow.

You eventually had to pull yourself away to breathe. “Wow.”

“If you want, I can teach you some moves,” He whispered, and you raised your brows.

“Dance moves?”

“If you want,” He said with a smirk.

He grabbed your hand when you tried to hit him on the chest, trapping your hand between the two of you. His thumb gently swiped across your knuckles, his head tilting as he took you in. You beamed up at him.

“You’re cute,” You told him, leaning up to try and kiss him again. He tried to hide his smile, looking away from you, but his red ears gave him away. “Is this your way of telling me you love me?”

He didn’t answer, just pulled you in for another kiss. It was only a soft chime echoing from your phone that pulled the two of you apart this time, Minho patting your ass.

“Go tell the kids dinner’s ready.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you grabbed your phone. Your phone chimed again as you made your way down the hall, and you pulled up your messages. One text was from Jisung, letting you know that they were on their way up, but the other was from Sophie. You pulled up the chat the same time you knocked on Felix’s door.

“Dinner’s ready!” You called out to them.

Sophie.

Oh my god, is this you!???

For a split second, you found yourself thinking about the photo you had seen of you and Seungmin together and wondered if she had somehow seen it.

The reality was much, much worse.

You nearly dropped your phone when you got to the images she had sent. They looked like photos taken from a security camera, which was already a shock to your system, but it was the content that had your back hitting the wall in shock.

One photo of what was clearly Felix. There was no denying that it was him. Your face was also visible in the photo, although a little grainier. The second photo, wearing the same clothing as the first photo and obviously in the same location, was a familiar scene. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pressed up against the wall, lips pressed together.

A million thoughts began to race through your head.

Sophie

I can’t believe it!

Why didn’t you tell me!?

Girl, you are TRENDING!

There was a commotion from the entrance, and you could hear Chan calling out your name. Felix’s door opened, and he nearly ran into you. He was laughing, the youngest two yelling something at him about their game. He met your panicked eyes, and his smile immediately dropped.

Chan appeared at the end of the hall, looking as worried as you felt. “Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong?” Felix asked.

All your thoughts converged on one very simple word.

Fuck.

[blackwidow-bby]

For you (3/?)

Summary: The ball gets rolling, things are starting to heat up.

Warnings: some tension, Agatha is aggressive but not toward you just around you, some yearning, a smidge of nsfw, blink and you’ll miss it, should I put somno? I’m going to put somnopholia

A/N: I think this is a mess but thanks for coming to the shit show 😂 buckle up I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. Also readers name is ‘Baby’ I never said that if you’re confused why I uppercase Baby.

After maybe an hour of watching you rest, her thoughts running wild, Agatha wanted to put some things in motion. She found it so hard to remove herself from beside you but in the end made the move to get up and retrieve her phone. It was too easy to move off the bed without waking you. She took one last glance over her shoulder before making her way back to the living room.

Her fingers didn’t hesitate, she knew exactly who she wanted to dial, the phone rang twice before the other line picked up.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

The truth was, no, Agatha had no clue what time it was she thought she had only spent maybe 3 hours with you max, but a glance down at her watch showed that it was 11 p.m., where had the time gone? She was so distracted with you that time easily slipped.

“I need you to do one more thing for me tonight, Rio. It’s important.”

“God, another mess?”

“No, it’s just a retrieval. I need you to find Baby’s address and get some of her things to bring here. I want clothes, blankets, pillows, anything that looks like it’s used daily. Can you do that?”

Rio let out a sigh on the other end, “Yeah I’ll get it, you sure this is a good idea?”

Agatha’s anger was coming back, “What’s up with everyone questioning me today, just get it the fuck done.”

“Sorry, sorry, fine I’ll get it there in a couple hours.”

Agatha hung up first and made her way back to her room. You had maybe tossed a little in your sleep but you were still knocked out. Her fingers ached to touch you, lips hungered to kiss your shoulders and neck as you slept. She found it hard to move any closer. Eventually she would have to lay back down, she couldn’t just stare at you all night like a creep. She sent one more message to Rio before attempting to quietly move back to bed.

The springs ached a little under her weight as she slowly crawled close to you. Still you didn’t wake. Agatha laid on her side facing you and watching. Watching you breathe, watching you dream. Would you dream of her? How she took such good care of you? Would you have a nightmare? She hoped you wouldn’t but she’d be here if you needed her. She wanted to always be here.

Her arm unconsciously snaked towards your slumbering form, slithered up from the small of your back to hug around your waist and pull her body into yours. You smelled so floral, just the way she imagined. Maybe something like jasmine and rose. Her nose brushed close le to your hair and she took a deep quiet inhale of your scent it made her fingers clutch the front of your shirt. You wiggled a little in her hold before settling deeper against her, the pull of two orbits coming together in some strange cosmic pull. Her body felt like a magnet being attracted to yours, how in the world this felt so right was beyond her, but she would be damned before thinking of giving you up so easily. She could never let you go back to your home.

Agatha stayed like that being pulled in for way too long it made her mind do crazy things. She could feel the curve of your rear pressing into the bend of her hips, it made her core ache. Her breath cascaded down to the crook in your neck where she let her lips feather light drag against your skin. She tried to keep her breathing under control, as to not tickle you or rouse you. Agatha’s hips pressed forward ever so slightly to press herself more into your backside. Her skin was starting to feel too hot. She couldn’t stop how good this felt to her.

Her free hand that wasn’t wrapped around you began to slide down under her waistband. The tips of her fingers slightly pressing against her entrance. She was embarrassingly wet just from thinking about you pressed against her. She bit her lip and really thought if she was going to go through with this or not. While you’re right here in her arms, in her bed, sleeping so softly. Agatha pressed on her clit and made slow circles against herself. She let out a shaky breath against your neck and it made you stir against her, your back end pressing more against her hips pushing her hand harder against her core. Agatha bit her lip hard to repress a moan that threatened to come out.

She could feel how heavy her lids were but the ache between her legs persisted. She kept drawing more lazy circles against her bundle of nerves, getting closer to peaking. Agatha fully relished in the embarrassment. Her thoughts were a jumble of degrading herself for doing this right next to you and how good you feel against her. She was at a war with herself but her hand refused to stop. Agatha came that night with a tremble in her hand and legs. She fought hard against the moan that wanted to escape her lips. She stilled for a few minutes, the post orgasm haze clearing only to make way for the full on embarrassing feeling of touching herself and cumming pressed against you.

Agatha didn’t get much sleep that night.

——————————————

When she woke, the clock next her bed read 4:30 a.m. Rio should have been dropped off your stuff by now, she was one of the only people who worked for Agatha with access into her home. Full snores were coming from you now, she knew she would be safe to pull herself away and go start putting your stuff up in her home. Our home?

She wanted you to be comfortable when you woke, she wanted everything to look like it could be just as much yours as it was hers. Think of it as a weird nesting ritual. Slowly integrate all of your things around her home until you eventually became one with her. Just like you were taking up space in her heart and head now it was time to take up space in her house.

Agatha quietly pattered down to the living room, Rio had delivered pretty well on her part. There were several large cardboard boxes, opened up to show a lot of personal items. One in particular, was filled with only stuffed bunnies of different sizes and colors. Looking at all the things that made you, you, Agatha smiled a little to herself. Of course you would have something like stuffed bunnies you kept close. The rest of the boxes only contained clothes, a lot of toiletries, your shampoo, your perfumes, some towels. Everything just screamed ‘Baby’ to Agatha. Everything was in some shade of pink or pastel.

It took her a minute but eventually everything was put away somewhere she felt it belonged organically. When she looked at the clock again, the time was 6:15 a.m.

Perfect to start making breakfast, she thought.

Agatha got to work. Scrambled eggs, lightly salted. Sliced cucumbers and tomatoes. Two pieces of wheat toast for each of you, and two cups of fresh squeezed orange juice. Agatha couldn’t remember the last time she felt the need to do this with someone. Not even her past relationships made her fell this domestic. This needy to want to take care of someone else.

“Agatha?”

Right on time. Your voice sounded so sad and lost, you had to wake up without her but it was for a good reason she promises. She could hear the slight amount of panic in your voice, the warble on the last ‘a’. She briskly made her way back to the room and you looked so small. Your eyebrows were pinched in the center with your eyes looking glassy and full to the brim with tears waiting to be shed. She couldn’t believe she let you wake up alone like that but she was going to make it better now.

When Agatha rounded the corner into her bedroom your body visibly relaxed knowing she was nearby again. You scanned her up and down and finally settled on the tray of breakfast in her hands. She was paused at the door biting her lips, almost nervous to walk further into her own room but she pushed it away to sidle up next to you in bed.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, Baby, but I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast.”

Her kindness made you swallow. She was being so sweet to you. You picked up one of the forks and started eating. Agatha watched you pick at the food, watched you eat slowly, perfectly separating everything in half to share with her. You only ate one of your slices of toast but that’s okay, she would let it slide this once. After watching you for a bit, Agatha decided to also start eating some of the breakfast she made. The two of you shared this comfortable silence. Your hand at some point grazed her thigh. Her skin bristled but she didn’t dare moved, just let you seek her out to ground yourself some more.

When Agatha noticed you had finished eating your half of the breakfast she got a thought.

“Stay right here, Baby. I got something for you.”

She ran off to fish out one of your stuffed bunnies she placed together on a bed in one of her spare rooms, then hurried back with the toy behind her.

She had this look on her face like she was nervous again. It was so weird to see her this nervous this often cause to be honest, she always came off as someone who owned every space she was in. When she showed up to your bakery, sure she blushed here and there, maybe avoided prolonged eye contact, but you could still feel that if business needed to be handled, she would do it. You couldn’t find the right word but if you had to put a name to it, Agatha looked…small.

Still hiding the object behind her back she took her place next to you once more, moving the tray away to give the two of you more space.

“What is it Agatha? Just show me.”

You giggled curious as to what it could be. She eventually relented and produced on of your stuffed bunnies from your own apartment.

“Agatha…how did you get this? Is this…mine?”

Her teeth worried at her bottom lip.

“I had a friend of mine get some things from your place. I figured when you woke up you might feel out of it and I wanted you to be comfortable…I hope it’s not weird, I’m sorry if it is, I just wanted things to feel nice.”

She was rambling with awkwardness, you could tell she was trying to ease up a bit but you still had yet to react out of the initial shock. You brain tried to wrap itself around the idea of someone being in your place. This was extremely weird, how did she know where you lived? How did this ‘friend’ get into your place. You were certain that the door had been locked on your way out. Why was your stuff here? In her home? There was a major conversation waiting to be had, but you kept it down for later. Carefully, you took the rabbit from Agatha’s hands and held it close to you.

She smiled watching you fiddle with its fuzzy little arms, worrying at a small tuft of fur.

“Thank you, for this…all of this…but I-“

Agatha paled at the unspoken ‘but’, but what? Please don’t leave, you can’t leave not yet. Agatha jumped into action, she took the tray and partially empty plate and made her way to the kitchen. She didn’t want to hear what else you had to say, maybe if she avoided it long enough she could keep you here. Just a little bit longer. Please, dear god, don’t leave her. She needs this, needs you.

She frantically paced around the kitchen haphazardly putting dishes in the sink, frantically scraping food off into the trash bin. Rinsing the dishes, not knowing what to do with her hands. She didn’t hear you step into the space. Didn’t hear you standing watching her be a mess in her own home. Her hair looked more frazzled, skin more clammy than before. Agatha was truly scared of what you might have to say about what she had done for you. To make things comfortable for you.

You looked at the now empty boxes sitting in her living area. Things clattered as background noise as she attempted to do anything to look busy still.

“Agatha…if you don’t mind. Where are the rest of my things.”

She stopped dead in her pacing, dishes both dirty and clean still in her hands. Slowly she put whatever it was down, and turned to face you. Trying to school her expression.

“They’re…they’re in a spare room. For you, that is.”

“I-I want to get changed and maybe shower? If that’s alright?”

Agatha waited a breath before answering you.

“Yeah. Yeah okay, come with me.”

She brought you to the room, it wasn’t as big or as nice as her bedroom, but it was still quite large. The bed was a queen size, the covers looked the same as yours back at the apartment and you wondered for a beat if they were yours. There were a couple of personal items on the top of the dresser and the bedside tables. A lamp you knew for a fact was yours, a litany of the stuffed bunnies you liked in the middle of the bed. A basket of your personal toiletries from your place lay at the food of the bed. You walked into the space inspecting everything. Nothing had been damaged it had simply just been…moved.

“The bathroom is the second door to the right down the hall. I’m going to make a couple phone calls, I’ll come find you after.”

Then she just left you there alone to take it all in. Your heart was racing. Even though you were into Agatha this all felt too weird to handle. Your body moved on autopilot grabbing your things and making your way to the bathroom while your brain worked a mile a minute over why and how most of your things were here.

The shower was also immaculate everything in the bathroom looked…expensive. A massive claw food tub off to the side, extremely large shower with rainfall shower heads over the top. The floors were black tiled with gold amenities and accents. All of the towels were deep violets or pastel lilac, you settles for the pretty bright ones. On a gold rack hanging on the wall was an extremely soft pastel purple bath robe.

You attempted to clear all the worries from your mind and just accept being in this space with her. Maybe she freaked out after you went pretty unresponsive after the robbery. You chalked all of it ip to her just wanting to make you comfortable and maybe going to extremes to make it happen. While it made you a bit worried, the gesture was still endearing. You don’t think anyone would ever do something like that for you. It felt nice to be cared for in some possessed way.

It took you a minute to figure out how the shower worked but after a while managed to get it right.

—————————————————

Agatha ever the work horse set out to make a few ‘work’ calls and texts to some of her runners. She let some of them know she wasn’t going to be around for a few days. Taking care of ‘something important’.

You were important weren’t you? She always had this massive crush on you, but now you’re here. In her space. It made her giddy, it made her scared. No one ever had a reason to try and attack Agatha directly, would they try now? That she had a cute little thing in her grasp. She kept a tight lip especially by operating out of some no name town, but this could eventually put a target on both of your backs. Agatha definitely couldn’t let you leave now and you would probably want to.

She made a couple more calls.

“Rio? Hey, I need you to do a couple more things for me…”

—————————————————

The robe was entirely too soft. It felt amazing wrapped around you, made you stand and bask in it for a few minutes too long. When you made to leave the bathroom, Agatha rounded the counter at the same time. She watched you retreat into the spare room, your legs were exposed up to the mid thigh and Agatha gawked like some horny teenager. Eye eyes ran up and down the entire length wishing that she could run her hands up them instead. The smell of your soaps wafted down the hallway. Cherry blossoms, she would never forget.

Only when you closed the door behind you did Agatha finally decide to move, she Rand back to her own room to change into something different, more casual. Her head dropped to her hands, she didn’t know what she was getting herself into. She needed to possess, craved to have. Her teeth sung with wanting to sink themselves into the soft pulse at your neck. Something inside of her was craving carnality. She ran to her conjoined bathroom, splashed some cold water on her face and then left to get you from the spare room.

Agatha wanted to knock but her mind was still in that weird state of claim. It was running on too dark of thoughts for you. She pressed her forehead against the door, trying to calm down before you came out. If she didn’t, she didn’t know what she’d do. Once she got herself together she knocked twice lightly against the door.

There was a silent pause, no movement. She didn’t hear you walk up, but the door opened carefully. You peaked, wearing a bright pink cropped blouse with bubble sleeves and a pair of crème silk shorts with little ruffles along the hem. Agatha’s brain short circuited. You looked good enough to eat. That same singing from earlier came back. The dark thoughts rearing their ugly head. She was all staking claims and you were ripe for the claiming.

She smiled a predators smile. Eyeing you up and down, hair slightly damp, cheeks reddened from the hot shower.

“May I come in?”

Agatha’s voice was low and dangerous. You…sweet little Baby. You didn’t pick up on a single thing. So innocent. You opened the door wider for her to step through.

“Yeah I was thinking about maybe doing my hair but I could let it air dry.”

When Agatha walked in, she finally allowed herself to really look at all of your belongings. As she put them away in the room she did so very quickly before you had the chance to wake up, she didn’t give herself much time to really take in everything that screamed you. Her fingers grazed over the pile of stuffed bunnies, she stalked over to the dressers and tables, really soaked it all in, then she turned and the look of you made her want to jump.

You stood in the middle of the room watching her. Your hands clasped at the front. Hair draped over your shoulders. Her hands clenched and released at her sides. She wanted to sink her claws into you. She stalked, like a hungry tiger, until she stood in front of you. She wanted to stand close enough she got the image of you looking up to her with your big doe eyes. Waiting for what she might do. Might say.

Her hand came up to play with the ends of your hair as she soaked in your presence.

“Are you scared?”

“No? Do you…think I should?”

Agatha smirked. “No, I don’t think you should.”

You figured under her intense gaze, “Do you…want me to be?”

Your voice was making it hard for her to stay in control, but that question easily began to chip away at it. She exhaled sharply from her mouth. Her next words were barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I think I do.”

Your eyes shifted between her own. Trying in your own way to interpret what she could mean. You think you were beginning to pick up what this was beginning to be. The predator and the prey. It made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. She moved further into your space. You could feel the puffs of her breath against your own lips. Her eyes shifted all across your face, looking to see if you’d pull away from her. If you’d give her a sign or signal that you didn’t want this. She would be heartbroken but she’d respect whatever you wanted. When she stared back into your eyes all she was were deep dilated pupils. She had you. You weren’t going anywhere and it made her feral.

Like two orbits destined to collide, she surged forward, her lips pressing to yours in a deep and devouring kiss. Your brain took a minute to register what happened but then you were holding on for dear life. Her hold was all possession, hands gripping, pulling, clawing. You bent to her every move, all following what she would do next. Your hands came up to caress her face and the short strands at the back of her neck. Your own silent way of saying ‘I’ll still hold you even while you eat me whole’. The two of you were the strange clash of harsh and soft, light and dark, day and night.

When she was possessive, you were reassurance. The kiss was chaos on her end. She just wanted it all, everything you had to give. And all you wanted was to give. Agatha eventually parted, her forehead resting against yours. You tried to catch your breaths. Her hands still with a vice grip clung to the sides of your blouse, but yours caressed her cheeks. She was buzzing and you pulled her in to ease her tensions.

“I haven’t wanted anyone this bad before.”she breathed.

Her voice was rough. Unsteady.

“What are you going to do to me?”You whispered against her lips.

Her resolve crumbled completely. She pushed you back and slammed her fist against the wall. That ugly feral predator was fighting its way out of her skin.

“I’m going to make you mine, I’m going to protect you from everything. And I will kill anyone who dares to hurt you.”

You’d be lying if you said her aggression didn’t scare you. But you knew it wasn’t aimed at you, it was aimed in defense of you and that made the butterflies in your stomach stir even more. Your lips barely pressed against her own. You could feel every muscle in her body shake.

“If I let you, do you promise not to hurt me?”

The way your hand on the back of her head tightened let Agatha know you were being serious. This short moment of sincerity before you let her be her.

“I swear on it Baby, I would never lay a hand on you in anyway that you did not ask of me.”

You parted from her then with a small smile across you lips.

“Then I think we need to have a conversation.”

Taglist: @wifeofmanymilfs

[heterochromicnachos]

Hi, op!

Wanted to say your takes are absolutely valid before I talk about some of my own takes on the fandom. (And add a bit to yours)

Yeah, there’s a bit of a problem with the perception of women in this fandom, and pairing the boys with women.

I do want to remind everyone that Donnie has a very fucking obvious crush on atomic lass, a woman. He asks the cosplayer if she and atomic lad are “splitsville,” very clearly saying “hey girl you single?” Donnie is *very* clearly into women.

Kendra always struck me as being an ableist jerk more than anything. Granted, she is just a bad person, a stinky head if you will, but it always struck me as her taking advantage of Donnie’s naiveite caused by his mental difference. She took advantage of Shelldon too, though, so maybe she’s just a manipulative stinky face. I don’t like her but that gives me no excise to dehumanize her. She’s human, just a bad human.

The kendratello ship makes me uncomfortable because it feels abusive. That’s not to say Kendra can’t change, but it’s just been shown that Kendra has gone out of her way to try to KILL Donnie’s brothers, who barely even care about her existing, who have done nothing to her, and I don’t see how pairing her with Donnie is going to change that. I’m all for whump and angst, but abusive relationships just make me sick. They’re a real thing that happens frequently and I don’t see why people romanticize it, let alone ship it. I don’t see the two being able to get along, not when Kendra is actively bossing her teammates around like minions. (I could be exaggerating, but my autistic ass has been bullied enough to recognize bullying and she’s absolutely a bully.)

April and Cassandra are strong, capable women who both have some form of combat prowess. If April can survive to the end of the apocalypse, why the hell can’t cass? She has martial training, she was in a cult that relied on martial strength for god’s sake. Cassandra lived a long darn time. Casey remembers her face clearly in the movie, meaning she either died recently or she was still alive at the time of the beginning of the movie. You tend to forget faces after a while, and I doubt they had photo taking tech in the apocalypse.

A lot of the transgender headcanons really come out of nowhere in this fandom. It’s not like with other fandoms where you can go “this character has allegories/paralells to being transgender” and then make them transgender. There’s no actual substance behind the transgendering that I’ve seen. It’s just “I want this character to be a woman now.”

There’s also a lot of toxic masculinity in this fandom, too, especially considering Raph’s whole character was AGAINST the toxic masculine stereotypes of big strong man being a jerk and never crying and never showing emotion and etcetera. I feel like this translates into the transgendering of characters too, because Leo and Raph, the most common victims of this, tend to act more feminine. That’s not a bad thing, that’s entirely normal. But they get hit with the trans beam because of the fact that they dared to break gender stereotypes. Raph is gentle and loves animals. Leo’s flamboyant, showy and such.

Another thing I always noticed with the fandom is just, the inherent ableism with Donnie. People see him and his very very bad front to seem like he doesn’t care and make him into an emotionless asshole who doesn’t care about anyone. He’s very emotional, and just because he’s deadpan doesn’t mean he;s emotionless. He cries, he sings, he laughs, and it’s not cool that people just strip him of that because he’s autistic. As an autistic person myself, it’s really upsetting to see people make us out as husks of people who don’t give a damn simply because we just don’t get emotions. We still feel them, we still have them, we just don’t get them. They’re confusing and loud and mean and a mess of wires that got tangled in your pocket and by the time you untangle them it’s too late because they;re back in your pocket again and you gotta start all over. Donnie doesn’t like emotions, he;s uncomfortable with them, hence why he tries to act like the doesn’t have them. He’s hiding from them so he doesn’t have to deal with them.

Continuing on that, a lot of people give him more “stereotypical” autistic traits. Being nonverbal, over exaggerated sensory overloads and shutdowns, the like. While, yes, some people have these issues, and it’s not uncommon, it feels suspect. To me, it feels like they’re trying to romanticize being autistic. It’s not a fun thing to have, autism. Things are just more difficult when you’re autistic and people don’t seem to get that.

I think my main problem is that they infantilize him with these extra traits. Sure, he didn’t have a great upbringing with splinter, and he doesn’t have anyone to talk to or communicate with to work out his quirks and traits to make them manageable, but he has himself. As he says himself, he’s uncomfortable with emotion, so it only makes sense that by proxy he’d do whatever he can to make sure those emotional outbursts and shutdowns never happen. The less emotion he has to deal with, the better. Maybe it’s just as simple as working on breathing exercises or learning to recognize his feelings. He’s able to verbalize what he’s feeling really well, so I do like to think he already figured himself out for the most part. Sure, sensory issues are still a thing, but sometimes you just gotta work through it.

TLDR: your opinions are valid, I think people should stop being women haters and stop making people trans or making their autism more severe for the fun of it.

the rise fandom actually has a gigantic glaring misogyny problem but im not sure if i want to start that conversation right now

[delhi-transport-corporation]

Just saw that a YMS(+) bus had "Department of Transport<br>National Capital Territory of Delhi" on it's side instead of the cool DTC logo and name, what the fuck? is there a third (fourth) hidden bus operator? does the department of transport run its own fuckin bus system??? what?????

[otome-dissection]

Idk man I just think that mizu/ena5 and its progression was really beautiful actually. I just think that the release of the ena5 song was also really beautiful and kind of the nail in the coffin for me and I haven't been able to get the event(s) out of my head all week and that I kind of want to talk about it, actually.

It's about being hurt so deeply and continuously that any kindness that could be offered to you manages to feel like a sin, that it makes you crumble and shatter but for all the wrong reasons, not because of the newfound safety, not out of relief, but something worse and more deeply ingrained in you than kindness ever was. It's about carefully measuring the distance at which you keep others away from yourself, to ensure that it never happens again ("To save yourself the trouble", if that makes it easier).

It's about realizing that the people you've been spending all this time with are drifting closer, that they just might bump up against the unsightly parts of yourself that you've tried to keep locked away, it's about turning around and sprinting at full speed and slamming the door shut and holding onto the handle behind you to stop it from turning, because you're as frightened of the possibility of another wound being inflicted on you as you are of the possibility that kinder, gentler hands will reach out and smooth over the exposed scar. It's about hating eyes that judge and silently condemn you as much as you hate eyes that simply see you and take all of you in without scrutiny, because no matter what they're looking and they're looking at you and they know that your hand's on that door handle and they know that you're hiding something because, as much as you try to keep it shut, they've seen through the crack that you foolishly left open.

(The prominence of eyes in Bake no Hana, specifically eyes looking and searching, and finally landing on you, the viewer, Mizuki, is so fucking. Visceral in my opinion. Every character in the MV stares at the viewer in a deadpan, almost judging way. Even though Mizuki knows deep down that niigo won't really hate them, won't judge them, she just can't stand their kindness either; any gaze directed at her is a loss, another prick in their skin. It screams "don't look at me" while making sure that you know, with horrific certainty, that they're looking for you, that you're being watched. You can't go outside, can't leave your room, because they're searching for you, and while that should be reassuring, to you it's anything but).

It's about not wanting to be dissected, whether it's with hands that want to pull your organs apart or stitch them back together because no matter what they're there, and they're getting frighteningly close to your heart. It's about blinding yourself and covering your eyes to it all because seeing means exposure and exposure means they're taking something from you and you can't do anything about it, much less take it all back, much less have a say in the matter. Everyone's just taking and taking and taking and you wish you could just be alone. You wish everyone would just disappear and you could live in a world all to yourself, for only yourself (but is that really what you want?).

It's about the way that, near the beginning of the Yoka ni Mitoreta MV, Mizuki and her loneliness is represented as a dark, splotchy stain in the shadows. No colors, no patterns, no way to clean it or wash it all away, just raw ugliness marring a blank canvas. It's about the way that Ena reaches out to it anyway, the way she startles when the glass shatters just when she finally starts reaching forward, the way that the rest of the MV/song represents her searching for and reaching only further out to Mizuki, even if the broken shards of glass will only cut her fingers, potentially leaving scars.

It's about how, in every way, subtly, directly, consciously, and subconsciously, Ena shows that she fucking cares.

It's about the way that Ena lets Mizuki have autonomy, despite the situation being so horribly out of their control. And it's such a delicate thing: If she really wants to, Mizuki can take the opportunity to just run away, keep running forever, repeat the cycle over and over, and maybe she'll just destroy herself with it again, but it can't be denied that it's something important to them, something she can't quite live without just yet, their means of survival. Mizuki's autonomy is their identity, it's her tailoring her own clothes and choosing her own ribbons and styling her own hair the way she does. Ena letting them have that is as much about trust as it is about understanding that Mizuki of all people should have this right, when control was something stripped from her throughout so much of her life. She couldn't control how she was born, how people look at her or why, can't control what they think of her; lacking control has only left Mizuki vulnerable to the cruelties of others, has only caused them to suffer, which is why it's so important that it's given to them now.

She had the control to make the choice to see niigo's welcoming love and run away instead of staying, and she has the control to make the choice now whether she wants to keep things the way they are or take a step forward to be at their side again. She has every right to have it, and I think the fact that Ena realizes and respects that, even if it's subconsciously, is really beautiful (there is an entire fucking Verse about this in the new song and just. God Look at this. It's so caring, unconditional, and for fucking What. I think there is something to be said about how much Ena is willing to put aside for Mizuki, and maybe deep down it isn't healthy, but for now I'm just kind of in awe)

It's about how insanely patient Ena has been this whole time. Mizuki says that she basically lied to Ena's face about telling her their secret, even after Ena said with such conviction that she would wait for Mizuki as long as it takes, and Ena is just kept waiting and waiting and worrying like this seemingly indefinitely. It's about how Mizuki danced around it, avoided it, kept the distance, straight up ran when she was finally pushed, but Ena still chased anyway when she saw that she couldn't wait anymore, kept chasing just enough to intervene and get a straight answer out of Mizuki when she really needed to, but still leaving her enough space to leave if that was truly what she wanted. It's about how relieved Ena is the moment that Mizuki finally says outright how much they want to be with her and niigo, how much she wants to try, how much more light Ena's voice sounds when she grabs her hand, relieved, the way that the relief she feels can be felt through the music, throughout the entirety of Yoka ni Mitoreta, the way that warm colors always follow her when she chases after Mizuki, just to hold onto her and stop her from running away completely.

It's about how that careful combination of Ena's directness, Ena's persistence, Ena's warmth, her patience, her bluntness about her feelings, the way she chases and holds on but not too tight and her regard for how unsafe and exposed Mizuki feels actually works and breaks it all down. It's about how she really did reach through to Mizuki, despite the thorns and broken glass shards and nearly-unfulfilled promises, the way that Mizuki did finally let her turn the door handle and step through to see what she'd been hiding all this time, the way that Mizuki's hand, limp, when Ena first grabs onto it, shifts to hold hers back as they cry in the face of Ena's gentleness.

Despite how harsh Mizu/Ena5, and even Ena herself as a character can be (or at least was in the very beginning of pjsk), everything is somehow gentle and warm in the end, blindingly so. And you know what, I think that's beautiful. And what's even more beautiful than that is how Mizuki allows themself to crumble and shatter under that kindness, that warm light, but this time, finally, out of relief.

On a final note, I just want to say that I also appreciate how all that didn't have to solve everything. The scars haven't disappeared, haven't gone away, and Mizuki knows that their desire to run hasn't gone away forever, and maybe it never truly will. But for now they've calmed it, at least a little. She's learning to allow herself to be seen, learning that when someone's fingertips brush over their scars the way Ena's did that it's only out of care, and that maybe taking in that care and allowing herself to feel kindness and safety is okay. They're safe, for now, somehow. They're learning. They're trying. And I think that's cool :)

[weepingtalecowboy]

Fanfic prompt: you know how dink can control monsters and all

You know what would be beyond cruel

If he took the form of Malon and started fighting time while the chain is busy fighting the hord

Time gets increasingly angrier and annoyed by him daring to use his wife’s face to make him feel bad

Then in one cut he hatefully stabs him in the stomach and Dink drops this nightmare of a sentence while laughing

“You know that I can control monsters do you really think that she could resist me?”

Then gives time one last Malon like smile before dying

But the body never changes back and the hero of time has to see his lover’s death body right in front of him

The chain also watches in horror and guilt as time breaks down

And after the shock passes

A portal appears and the chain spends the entire time walking to Lon Lon ranch in silence and guilt for not realizing that the shadow took control over a loved one

As they open the door

The entire house was empty

And now either Malon was hanging out with her friends and because of that wasn’t home

Or

The shadow wasn’t gaslighting them and time really just killed his wife

(Wind just wondering why everyone is upset over the shadow dying because he can clearly see that it’s the shadow with his ghost seeing ability

Not understanding that the others are not capable of seeing ghosts and just thinks that they are guilty for killing a monster with their loved one's face

Is hilarious to think about)

[chasedeys]

HI OKAY so like. in honor of these boyfriends sticking together by the grace of god and just sheer fucking stubbornness and taking matters into their own hands (sooooo sexy and also incredibly leaning to the power-of-friendship ass of them btw) and also because i feel sooo shitty for disappearing all of the sudden and ignoring a whole bunch of you </3 (thank you truly for all the sweet messages in my inbox asking me where and how ive been god yall are so sweet) and also it's such a fucking waste of 7k word vomit if i do end up not finishing this thing and i really do want to finish this but im lacking creative juices and honestly just shit time management but anyways. i present to you the mess of joeteemarr fic in its barely finished glory:

(DOOOO PRAYYY THAT I FINISH ITTTTT (i am on my knees) in spite of all the spoilers (?) you'll read through so it'd be like why the hell would you read this again kind of deal but well ahahahah just let me post this and look away okay 😭♥️)

all on his mouth like liquor —joeteemarr

intro — you came, you saw, you conquered // i couldn’t take my eyes off him, i think i heard a spirit call my name (banana yoshimoto, kitchen)

They’re both still in their leather ensemble—’so, did you coordinate the outfits, or?’ ‘ja’marr copied me.’ ‘excuse me? bitch, i’ll kill you.’—like they zoomed their way to Tee’s place immediately right after the game, after stopping by Judith’s for their usual order of burgers and fries.

Tee pokes at his own order of bacon burger, double helping of cheddar cheese and extra garlic, a wobbly little smile poking through when he spots the lovingly sharpied good game 5! the extra pies are for you!!!! don’t let uno eat them!!!!!!!!! on the crinkly wrapping paper. Judith, Cincinnati native, 57 years old and never takes money from Tee’s mother. Thinks Ja’Marr is the funniest man-child on earth and Joe the sweetest.

Ja’Marr has his jacket off now, tank top stretched tight over his shoulders as he slumps over his burgers snarling at Joe to stop stealing his fries. Tee carefully turns his gaze away from dark of his tattoos, the curve of his shoulders, the flex of his biceps when he tries to smack away Joe’s hand right over his burger.

But the thing is, if he looks away, he’s looking towards Joe—Joe, who’s leather jacket with nothing underneath is zipped down to his navel for some godforsaken reason, miles of pale skin and abs and golden hair and pink nipples flashing everytime he twists his torso to try and take Ja’Marr’s entire dinner or avoid his retaliations. Tee has to take away Ja’Marr’s plastic fork before he stabs Joe with it.

(They didn’t coordinate the outfits, by the way. They just ended up wearing something similar again with their weird otherworldly connection that Tee still tries to wrap his head around even now.)

—----------ja’marrs drops. sensitive,dfksdfkapoeskfo

Ja’Marr skirts his eyes away, mouth curling down, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll deal with it Monday.”

Tee breathes out, extends his knee and presses his socked toes to the younger man’s calves. Ja’Marr twitches his leg against his feet, flicking his eyes at him and shooting him a small smile. He’ll be alright.

“No,” Ja’Marr says evenly, staring right at him even as he slams a hand at Joe’s over his plate, “but you were really fucking sexy.”

Tee startles, several clumps of mashed up potato slipping out of his mouth in surprise—real sexy, there. Ja’Marr really has no filter sometimes, calling any person he finds attractive to their faces with zero shame even in front of his boyfriend of however many years. Joe, ever so possessive, rarely even gets bricked up over it, from sheer assurance of his place in Ja’Marr’s heart. Hard not to be, really, with how steadfast and loud Ja’Marr is with his devotion to him. Tee has been called straight up ‘hot as hell’ by the other man for the past years that they’ve known each other and he still gets flustered over it, mostly because. Well. Whatever.

Joe turns his gaze to him as well, pausing his one-man crusade of pilfering his boyfriend’s fries. Tee slows his bites as he stares back, feeling weirdly caught like a prey in a predator’s gaze, a gazelle looking through the tan of the savanna landscape trying to find the glint of a lion’s eyes lurking in between the blades of grass. Joe’s piercing blues flick between his eyes, then slides down, slow, deliberate, purposeful, over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the turn of his chin, the hinge of his jaw still clenched from chewing the meat they bought for him, his—neck exposed by the stretched cotton of his ratty t-shirt, the tangle of his beard, the slight of his Adam’s apple, the nearly healed scar on the left side of his jugular from last week’s razor incident, even the loose hang of his faded clemson t-shirt over his shoulders, the dip of it showing off the skin over his collarbones, not too much to show his pecs, but the sheer force of the older man’s leer makes him—makes him push his fucking tits out like he can’t fucking help himself; shoulders, drawing back; spine, straightening; nipples, pebbling, fucking tingling; goosebumps and hair rising over his arms; toes, curling in—he knows each and every part of his body Joe looks over because the man’s so fucking methodical with it, everything else below his chest hidden beneath the table thank fuck, he thinks, of sorts, maybe, a blessing, a curse, who knows, he’s still trying to chew on his fucking bite of bacon burger the fuck.

Tee chokes on his late swallow—and drinks the puply orange Ja’Marr offers him with an obvious smirk holy shit what the ever living fuck. 

Joe goes back to eating his burger like he didn’t just. Undress Tee with his fucking eyes. What the fuck. What the actual fuck was that. Holy shit did he just experience a junior high schooler’s fantastical imaginary eighth grade period axe body spray doped up version of sex daydream or is he just. Insane. Was the burger spiked. What the fuck was that. 

Tee feels his lips twitch. Wow. They’re really—unsubtle. But, are they, really?

“

—And Ja’Marr growls. Tee startles, laughing up at him, but it’s all cut off short because, wait, holy shit—-

He’s got a lapful of Ja’Marr Chase, situating his ass snugly all over Tee’s thighs with his own folded on either side of his hips, arms up so he can press his palms on his cheeks, wrapping all the way to the back of his skull because they’re so big, and kiss him.

“Jesus Christ, Ja’Marr,” he hears through muddied ears. Joe, he knows his voice, always, but—everything is—muffled, dark, consumed to a single person over him 

He flutters his eyes open and gasps out trying to push air into his lungs and Ja’Marr’s face is right there in front of him—eyes piercing into his own as he purposefully bumps his nose to Tee’s and breathes into Tee’s gaping open mouth.

Fucking hell.

“Ja’Marr,” he breathes out, panic mounting—and: dick hardening in his sweatpants because Ja’Marr fucking Chase is all over his lap grinding down, arms around his shoulders, pretty face right up to his with deep brown eyes staring him down intently—hands trembling, acutely aware that his boyfriend of six fucking years is staring right at them from across the room, still stealing said boyfriend’s fries. That fucking heifer, jesus, his diet always goes out the window in the 24-hour window of post-game leftover adrenaline rush.

Ja’Marr—his best friend, the prettiest motherfucker he’s ever had the pleasure of—doesn’t even do him the honor of replying, lips stretching wide into a pleased smile and keeps bumping his nose to Tee’s over and over like it’s a little game to him. It’s ridiculously cute—the minute touches, the way Tee has to go cross-eyed to see it, the weight of him all over, the heady scent of warm wood basking him, it calms him down, lowers his heart rate, settles his breathing, makes his eyelids flutter, trying to keep himself from closing the distance and kiss the man again, seems terribly unfair to just—only have a single chance in his life to kiss Ja’Marr Chase once when he’s still inches away with his body language so open and willing. Joe, to the side, still fucking eating, not even acting offended even the slightest past the minute exasperated jesus christ, ja’marr, shoots him a weird dorky thumbs-up. The hell.

“You’re—“ Tee chokes out finally, acutely aware of every point of his palm pressed against the cotton wrapped around his best friend’s waist. Acutely aware of how his fingers are twitching, wanting, aching—to grip tighter, to drag downwards and under the hemline and then roughly up the warmth of skin, scrub at the expanse of it available and feel it shiver against the skin of his own palm. The only reason he doesn’t is because every joint, every muscle, every tendon in his body is locked up in, what, fear? Sheer desperate want? A man collapsed inches away from an oasis appearing out of nowhere  in a once barren desert, heat pouring over his body and making everything wobbly and blurry—his vision actually going a bit blurry because—

Fuck it all to hell, if he cries in Ja’Marr Chase’s face  just because he kissed him he’s killing himself and taking everyone with him.

Ja’Marr coos, pretty face closing in again and Tee automatically flutters his eyes shut just for the other man to press his lips softly against the thin skin of his left eyelid, keep dragging them along his lashes, letting his liquid tears seep into the crevice of his lips and pool around the corner of his lips, over the bridge of his nose, again to his right eye, and down to the highest point of his cheek—just to press harder and leave a wet imprint from his own tears.

God, Ja’Marr fucking Chase.

“You really gotta say something,” Tee squeezes out harshly, eyes squeezed shut tight and trying to breathe through his nose.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” is what Ja’Marr says, thumb brushing away the wet spots on his cheeks. Which. Well. Maybe Tee should’ve just told him to shut the fuck up and get off of him before he does something he’d regret, like—like kiss him again. And again. And again. Again, again, again, again, over, and over, and over, and over until he drops dead because he’d never grow tired of it, he doesn’t think.

“I see,” Tee says, not really seeing. He knows he’s ’fucking gorgeous’ but come one now, really.

Ja’Marr grins bright right up against his face, of course knowing what Tee’s not saying.

Joe leans down, nudging his boyfriend to the side, hunching over the two, tucks a palm to the side of Tee’s neck, all nine inches of it spanning across his skin like a hot brand, and kisses him too.

Tee breathes into his mouth, doesn’t even know how to kiss back, flabbergasted as he is, weighted down by his best friend on his lap, a hand on his neck that might as well feel like a noose, buzzing in his ears, a match of want being struck in him and he doesn’t know if it’s by him or if it’s actually the people he wants.

Joe hums against his mouth, lips turning down, “you’re not kissing me back,”

He’s actually fucking pouting against Tee’s mouth, Tee realizes. He doesn’t even want to let go of the kiss to speak, doesn't want to pout away from Tee’s lips. Oh god. What is Tee doing. 

Tee surges up, arms clenching around Ja’Marr’s waist, teeth tugging at Joe’s bottom lip, and kisses his quarterback right this time, feels him stretch his lips to a smile even as he licks into Tee’s mouth and sighs into the kiss. He’s relaxing his shoulders, drooping down, evening out—he was tense, he was worried, neck veins slightly popping, Tee realizes. This was important to him. Tee kissing him back—was important. To him. 

Oh.

Tee sighs into the kiss, too, relaxes and licks into the space he’s being granted access into, for the first time ever.

Ja’Marr gets handsy, apparently pleased as a peach at the grip Tee has on his waist. He presses his knees harder to the sides of Tee’s hips and grinds his hips down on his lap, palms exploring his torso all over, nails dragging across his nipples over the cotton of his shirt, face all over the skin exposed by the stretched elastic of his t-shirt’s neckline, tonguing his neck, his collarbone, biting his pulsepoint and making him gasp into Joe’s mouth.

next steps — i swell like a late summer jackfruit; my skin roughens, the pulp of my body so thick; i wait to be speared and wanted; if squeezed, i’ll leave my color on your hands (hồ xuân hương, jackfruit)

Joe pushes his back firmly and he follows through blindly. It’s his house, but Joe knows exactly where eveything is and he trusts literally anywhere this man leads him to, and, also, he’s really fucking distracted by this:

Ja’Marr bites at his chin, right by his beard, and Tee gasps—he’s a freak, what is with him, why is that so fucking hot—and he keeps tugging on the strings of Tee’s sweatpants, fingers brushing deliberately over the tent in his pants, then straight up cupping and squeezing his dick through the cotton when Joe makes them stop to turn a corner. Tee has to just shove the little shit towards the wall, press his head hard against it, and sloppily kiss his mouth to teach him some sort of lesson of some success god what is Tee trying to accomplish here Ja’Marr is so fucking—

An arm—Joe—circles his waist, pushing forcefully between the miniscule space between his belly and Ja’Marr’s and wrenches him back from the other receiver. He whines, fingers scrabbling at his best friend—”Wait! No!”—while Ja’Marr is just laughing and tilting his head back into the wall as he grins teasingly at their quarterback, “what, jealous?”

Joe reaches out and twists his left nipple through his tank top. Ja’Marr yelps and starts yelling expletives at him. Tee, leaning back into Joe’s embrace, sighs exasperatedly. Of course they’re doing this, even now.

Ja’Marr steps closer, trying to smack at Joe through Tee, and Tee puts his hands on his biceps to stop him—gets distracted, starts sliding his hands up and down the length of them because, fuck, how can he not, and then just grabs them and tugs him closer to kiss him all over again with Joe’s arm between their bodies. Man, whatever.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, pressed up all against his back, but he really can’t be all that pissed, because he’s mouthing all up Tee’s neck—what is with him and necks, jesus, 

He’s shivering, caught in the middle, Joe in front, Ja’Marr behind, hands all over him, standing up but he’s falling, stumbling but he’s being held up. There’s a boy in front of him, and there’s a boy behind him, and who is he but another boy asking to be loved and held.

He’s leaning back to Ja’Marr’s chest now, tilted to the side so he can turn his face and kiss him still, the other man’s hand spanning across his face pinning him to place as he presses his tongue into his mouth and moans into it, as loud as he always is anywhere else. Another mouth is all over his chest, tonguing at his nipples, teeth scraping over the dark of his tattoos, panting all over him like a dog, god.

He doesn’t wear boxers at home, and the two know that precisely, Joe stroking his cock through the cotton of sweatpants like it isn’t even there, the grey fabric getting soaked through. He lowers his mouth over it, eyes looking straight up at Tee and asks if he could. Tee nods frantically, not even knowing what the fuck he wants but it’s Joe Burrow, he could do whatever he wants to Tee and Tee would lay in his arms like a supplicant and rip his chest open all pretty and bloody and let Joe Burrow dip his chin in and lap it all up.

He whimpers into Ja’Marr’s mouth, fluttering open his eyes, eyelashes clumpy with tears, sweat, he doesn’t know, and Ja’Marr coos, brushing kisses over his eyes as he drags his palms all over Tee’s belly, scraping nails over his pubes and pressing down in time with Joe going down on him like he knows the exact rhythm of Joe’s every move and plan, even here, even now, even over the sweat and smell of sex of Tee’s body—especially, Tee thinks, over his body.

that’s one — makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips on my neck, and yes, i do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars (richard siken, crush)

Ja’Marr breathes into his ear, biting at the helix and scraping his teeth over it like a dog. Tee whimpers, turning his head to catch his mouth in his and clack their teeth together, a shock of pain grounding him to earth so he wouldn’t float up to the heavens too high. Ja’Marr huffs out a laugh against his lips, “Knock it off, dickhead, I know what you’re doing.”

Tee scowls at him, hands tightening on Joe’s hair instead of reaching out to twist and pinch on his skin, like punishing one of them is the same as punishing the other, really, an extension of a singular subject. Joe groans around his cock, extremely pleased, of fucking course he is, and Tee keeps tugging at his roots in exasperation. Fucking masochistic little shit.

Ja’Marr snickers, dragging his tongue all over his neck, “See, natural Joe Burrow knower. Made just for him—to be his receiver, just like me.”

Ja’Marr, honestly, why the fuck is he like this—

Joe and Tee both groan in unison, Tee coming off it in a whine because, fuck, Joe’s mouth is still all up around his dick, the vibrations traveling up straight to his brain and fucking him up beyond repair.

Joe pulls off with an actual wet pop! and twists a hand harshly around his cock—which feels really fucking good, the fuck—like an apology that he isn’t sucking Tee’s dick continuously since he got the chance to, and pushes his torso up to prop his face by Tee’s head, cheeks pressed up against his, chin digging into his shoulder, and he can feel him kiss Ja’Marr rough and wet, with tongue and spit and biting at his lips.

Fucking helllll, they’re trying to kill him.

The man still twisting his hand around his cock like he’s getting paid to presses his cheek harder against Tee’s, and he’s jawing at Ja’Marr, Tee realizes with a breathless laugh—”Would you quit saying shit like that so shamelessly midsex it ruins the fucking vibe.” “What fucking vibe? If anything I’m adding to it, bitch, get back to sucking his dick, the fuck.”—and Joe slinks back down right after like he didn’t just stop mid-blowjob to argue with Ja’Marr over the receiver’s uncensored prattling.

Tee whimpers, Joe’s mouth enveloping his cock again like it’s made for it, all heat and tightness and perfect 

how do you write people getting their dick sucked. exactly. no really.

ja'marr lets him breathe but he's instantly kissing down his neck and biting his collarbones and pushing him down and dragging a tongue over his chest tattoos he's /relentless/ and when he looks to where joe is its to him grinning down at him with a hand guiding ja'marr /down/ 'that's one. you got me three right?'

“That’s one,” Joe says, his little impish smile Tee has recorded into his brain countless of times before shining down at him, lips dark red, chin and mouth all wet with Tee’s spunk, “You gave me three.”

“Three what,” Tee asks, stupidly, ears still ringing from the force of his orgasm. He’s still so focused on the bright wet glint of liquid decorating Joe’s lower face, his come, staining his skin. Joe isn’t wiping it away, letting it dry on his skin, flaking and caking and clumping against the corner of his lips. Tee wants to lick it away, drag it into his mouth with his tongue, switch it up and leave bite marks all around his pretty lips. All the red in the cold, now red from his teeth. Would Joe let him. Would Ja’Marr let him. Would he let himself mark that pale skin up, leave parts of himself all over his quarterback in ways he’s never had the guts to even finish the thought of before tonight?

Joe leans closer, mouth over him, damn the fact that Tee’s own come is all over his mouth now. Three, Joe murmurs as he kisses him filthily, sliding his tongue through the gap of his teeth, over his papillae, staining his breath with something of his own. Tee wants a shot of Joe’s own come down his throat, drenching the lining of his esophagus. The thought makes his moan, makes him choke into Joe’s throat, and the older man swallows him whole. 

Fuck, three—do they—are they trying to get him to come three times, the same amount of times he caught Joe’s pass for a touchdown? Christ. He’s getting lightheaded.

He laughs incredulously, flicking his eyes down to Ja’Marr mouthing incessantly at his navel, teeth scraping along the black lines of his tattoos, exactly like he said he wanted too. Makes Tee woozy with want, how Ja’Marr gets needy and desperate for it, thirsting over Tee’s body. How many times has he stared at him naked? Tattoos bared and thought to put his mouth on him? Drag a finger down the lines of stars on his stomach? He has never once caught Ja’Marr’s eyes on them—how sneaky had the other man been?

Joe’s hand is right on the younger man’s head like a brand, like he can’t bear to let go. on his head guiding him

, then back to the blond still staring him down. His smile is just as mischievous as it always is. Are they going to take turns, now? That’s the hottest shit he’s ever thought of, probably.

“What,” he can’t help but say, scoffing and teasing Ja’Marr, reaching a hand to tug on his ear and scratch at his cheek because he’s so fucking fond of this man he can’t keep it in, really, “you looking to suck me off too?”

Ja’Marr tugs on his dick, his sensitive dick—bitch—and Tee hisses at him, stopping his loving scritches to outright pinch at his ear because never the fuck he minds, this man is such a fucking brat, he can’t put this guard down at all.

The younger man jerks his head away, laughing. He grins up at Tee, teeth bright and eyes even brighter. “Nah, I don’t like shit down my throat. Wanna fuck me instead?”

Tee chokes on his spit. He blacks out, he thinks, by the question alone. By the idea alone. By the thought alone. His brain tries conjuring images and then it just short circuits. Where is he. Who is he. Why is he.

His head gets cradled, pulled to the side by a hand and he’s being kissed by a smiling mouth, pulled back down to earth slowly and surely until he’s kissing back voluntarily instead of on autopilot. Joe, hand pressed to his cheek and eyes wide open even as he’s stealing Tee’s breath away by kissing him sweetly and thoroughly. What a freak. Who kisses with their eyes wide open. Joe Fucking Burrow, that’s who. His quarterback who threw him three touchdowns and tried biting his neck on national television. Posted on every NFL official social media accounts and sent to him by his high school friends with the words bruh u fucking ur qb??? Which he apparently is, now. 

“He asked you a question,” Joe murmurs against his lips. Right. Sure.

Tee looks down to his lap and, damn, what a fucking image. Ja’Marr Chase, laying belly down on his bed with his torso half over Tee’s thighs, a hand curled loosely around his sensitive dick, the other holding his hand—when did that happen, Tee is squeezing it tight unconsciously and now he can’t let go even if he tried—cheek pressed to his left thigh looking up at him with his pupils blown wide open waiting patiently for Tee to look at him.

Right.

“You get to choose,” Ja’Marr says when he notices he’s got Tee’s attention. He tugs at Tee’s soft cock again—

“It’s not a toy,” Tee yelps, his unoccupied hand automatically curling around the other receiver’s hand around his dick.

Ja’Marr just grins wider up at him, unsticking his cheek from his thigh to press a kiss on the hand wrapped around his wrist.

“You get to choose,” he says again, “Fuck my ass or my thighs?”

Tee lets out a sound only audible to dogs and dolphins and aliens 900 billion light years away, probably. Ja’Marr smiles up at him, looking so shily pleased that he can reduce Tee to such a state by just asking a simple question. He has no fucking business looking so sweetly enamored up at Tee after asking if he would rather fuck him in the ass or his thighs.

He’s jostled around again, Joe tugging at his hips to the side so Ja’Marr can haul his ass up to sit by them. This seems to be a theme, with these two, pushy on the field and off the field and in the bedroom—he can’t even say he’s never even thought of it,  Burrow-Chase dynamic duo, in whatever form, whatever shape, whatever way he can have them. In his dreams only, he thought, but. But.

Ja’Marr is spreading open the hand he’s kept on holding since god knows when—like an emotional support hand holding he’s got to keep a hold on to get through sex and that thought genuinely fucks Tee up in ways he’s never even thought of—and he drops a whole packet of lube he procured out of fucking nowhere.

Tee stares blankly down at it. Holy shit.

“Bro, you’re taking too long,” Ja’Marr says. Tee flicks his eyes up to look blankly at him. “I want you in me, like, yesterday.”

He’s trying to fucking kill him, Tee realizes. Calling him bro, asking to fuck him in the ass, the fuck is wrong with him.

“You gonna finger me open or I gotta do it myself?”

NggGgRrrHff.

Tee doesn’t even know what came out of his mouth, surging his torso forward and bringing his hand up to tug at Ja’Marr’s skull, palm all over the back of his head so he can tug him closer to his face and lick his mouth open and just shut him the fuck up. 

Ja’Marr whimpers, the cocky slope of his shoulders slumping down like a puppet with its strings cut, hauling closer near desperately to settle over Tee’s lap and press his palms over his shoulders for support—kissing Tee right back, breathing hot haaas over Tee’s mouth as he tries gasping for breath.

Tee tugs on his lips with his teeth, presses wet kisses to the side of his cheeks, drags his own lips over his skin back to the tender spot of his jaw, bites over it, pecks a little kiss in apology, then presses his cheek over Ja’Marr’s hard so he can tug roughly on his earlobe with his teeth—thinks he can devour the other man whole, really, from the sheer hunger in his gut built up from day one of over-familiarly dapping him up and hauling him in for a hug under the then-flickering lights of Paul Brown Stadium in 2021.

The lube’s gone from his fingers. He realizes this because someone is tugging Ja’Marr’s hips up so he’s kneeling over him, then pressing a finger in without so much as an ’excuse me’. 

Christ, Joe is so fucking.

Tee can't even find the words, really, to describe his quarterback. 

Ja’Marr yelps, gasps, clutches tighter at Tee’s shoulder, eyelashes fluttering close as he tries to keep kneeling but Joe is apparently ruthless when he's opening someone up because the younger man just collapses all over Tee, Tee letting his weight down him as drags both hands over the other man’s back to soothe him.

“Want—” Ja’Marr chokes out against the skin of Tee’s neck, “—want you.”

Joe huffs out a laugh as he mercilessly twists two fingers inside his receiver’s ass. Tee feels dizzy looking at the 

“Oh I see,” Joe says, dangerously amused, “I see how it is, can't even settle for me no more, huh, when you got Tee Higgins at your beck and call?”

His fingers slip out, shining under the dim lighting of Tee’s night settings, and then he slaps a hand over Ja’Marr’s ass like every part of him is for him to toy over. Tee is still so fucking woozy from the image of it all, his hand rubbing at Ja’Marr’s back sliding lower to smooth over the sting from Joe’s palm.

(god, what an ass. tee can't help himself, grabs a handful of it and tugs it to the side to show his hole, shining wetly from joe’s fingers, a whole invitation for him. tee wants to put his whole mouth on it. lick him open nice and easy. press a finger in and watch as his entire body tremble and shake.)

Joe grins at him, wide and a bit mean, cocky and soooo full of himself, precisely like every other time he makes an insane throw, a run further than his usual short stops, a little overtime nail-biter win like just hours ago: his ice-in-my-veins shot that Tee paused and contemplated jerking off to hours before this.

He reaches over Ja’Marr's body between them, kisses Tee like he’s giving him his approval, then turns and presses the sweetest kiss to Ja’Marr’s nose, damn the fact that the other man is glaring and outright pouting at him.

“Bro,” he croaks out, talking to Tee but trying to shoot daggers at Joe with his eyes, “let me up, let me take this bitch down for one second then we can go right back.”

Joe giggles bright like an actual child, keeps pressing kisses over whatever parts of Ja’Marr’s face he could reach until the younger man’s lips stretch out wobbly for a smile that he can't help, still whining at Joe to shut the fuck up, would he, just for one day. 

Tee grins wide in spite of himself too, hands still all over his best friend’s ass and lips still tingling from a kiss from his quarterback.

He drags his arm up so he can cradle Ja’Marr, fingers reaching over to grip at his jaw and twist it until he's looking right at him and putting all that focus on Tee, murmurs low and raspy: “you said you want me?”, and shamelessly delights in the way the other man’s pupils dilate wide and gorgeous.

“Fuck you,” Ja’Marr says, jaw working against Tee’s grip, “Get your fucking fingers in me before i force myself on your dick, damn it.”

that’s two — from the base of her neck, to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of me (adonis, transformations of the lover)

Ja’Marr nestles himself on his mound of pillows—Tee’s pillows. The pillows Tee sleeps with. His favorite pillows. The dark maroon sheets caressing his bare skin as he lounges on his self made throne, as he spreads open his legs, slipping one more pillow under his hips so he can present his ass to Joe and Tee and look expectantly at them. Tee is still so fucking lightheaded. How did he go from scoring three touchdowns to scoring a whole other touchdown? Ja’Marr—his best friend—who ducked his head to grin slilly up at him not four hours ago, telling him the next round of WR room steak dinner was on him. 

Joe pours lube all over Tee’s fingers, 

Joe’s plastering himself all over his back, but he isn’t pushing him at all. He’s just—there. Pressed up all over him, moving with him, breathing over the skin of his neck, nosing behind his ear. He’s letting Tee control how he wants to fuck his man, Tee realizes with a jolt, trusting him with Ja’Marr. 

joe plastered all over tee's back, cock nestled against his ass but he's not pushing tee around he's just following his movements, letting tee control how he wants to enter ja'marr and that also fucks tee up because joes trusting him with ja'marr!! with how he treats ja'marr at his most vulnerable!!!! telling him he can go harder, ja'marr likes whatever, can take whatever, joe leaing a hand in his belly and pushing to add in extra sensation of pleasure when tee pushes /in/ for the first time and he just collapses all over ja'marr and they're all groaning hoarsely in unison because fuck tees in ja'marr and he just pushed his ass back all over joes dick

Joe snickers at the other receiver. Tee feels him lift up an arm, nails scratching at his scalp. He’s murmuring softly at him, but Tee doesn’t think Ja’Marr is really computing any of it. 

“Aren’t you being so agreeable tonight? Some Tee Higgins magic keeping you all pliant and malleable?”

Ja’Marr whimpers, lifting his chin and biting at Joe’s fingers. Joe huffs, chest vibrating against Tee’s back, and every square inch of Tee’s body is filled with warmth.

calls him baby

ja’marr gets fucked up when tee calls him baby because joe calls him baby btw so

that’s three — to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you (billy-ray belcourt, a history of my brief body)

He’s leaning all over Ja’Marr now, gazing down the man who’s grinning woozily up at him 

Joe, nosing the back of his neck and palming his ass cheeks asking him if he likes to be fucked. Ja’Marr, hands still shaky coming up to drag over his sides and settle over his ribs like a key settling into a lock and clicking into place. Tee himself, chest expanding with breath and skin bristling with want from so deep within him it feels like it’s bursting out and changing the hue of his skin to red, to blue, to orange and black, purple and green, magenta and cyan, a kaleidoscope of colors like the big bang theory—he’s a new universe stretching and expanding and these two are his first and only planets, never to be let go.

He feels stripped bare in front of these two—is his every thought and want obvious in his face and every motion now? Do they see, now, how much he wants them? How much he—loves them? Is it obvious, now, that when he speaks to them he’s speaking like there’s a lodge of do you think of me when you’re alone without me wanting to burst out from his throat? That he aches alone in the center of a crowd when he doesn’t have them beside him? When he has them beside him, even, because they’re not really his to have? Does it show? Do they know? Do they care to know? Does he care to show them?

Tee breathes out loudly, ragged and deep. Joe shushes him, blows air against the curve of his C7. Ja’Marr surges up, presses kisses against his wet cheeks and babbles unknown words to him like he’s speaking through his shitty mic on stream. Tee would miss it, if their randomly scheduled streams were ever to peter off. Tee would miss them, if they were ever to fade away from him.

“Baby,” Ja’Marr coos, “sweetheart, my sweet, my love, my heart, my gorgeous,”

Tee shudders away against his lips and feels the man behind him curve a smile against the skin stretched over his cervical spine.

“My baby,” Joe joins in, voice jokingly grave, “my gorgeous, my sweet—”

“—quit copying me,” Ja’Marr whines, cutting him off, but he’s grinning against Tee’s lips, so he knows he’s just doing so to be annoying—just to put a smile on Tee’s face and it’s working, Tee huffing wetly against the stretch of his grin.

“—my number five,” Joe continues on without pausing, barely a fletch in his voice, “my silly rabbit, best hands in the league, insane body control, prettiest smile in the whole fucking world, favorite receiver to throw to—”

“Hey now,” Ja’Marr whines in earnest now, hands reaching around Tee’s body to stab around blindly at their quarterback. Tee breaks down in laughter for real this time, collapsing fully on the man in the bottom of the pile, letting Ja’Marr find a whole other thing to whine about—’teeeeee you’re crushing me you ass, joe don’t you fucking try it!’—and there was ice creeping from every distal edge of his limbs to the core of him, but there’s nothing but warmth now, chasing it away, clouding his head, keeping him sane. 

“But really now,” Joe interrupts, tugging his hips up impatiently, “I really wanna fuck you, do you wanna?”

Right. Jesus. Joe fucking Burrow, everyone.

Ja’Marr hums, peppering his cheek with kisses again, ever so free with his sweet affections. “Ten out of ten,” he says, “would recommend.”

Tee stares sideways at him, still settled with his weight fully on him. “That a full Yelp review for a Joe Burrow fuck?”

Ja’Marr sighs dreamily, scratching at Tee’s sides, “Do you really want one?”

Jesus.

Tee wiggles around, dragging his body against Ja’Marr’s and the man beneath him giggles when he brushes his fingers deliberately against his sides. He twists until he’s peering at Joe, squinting at him and pretending that the man didn’t just suck his dick so good Tee cried and stared at him like a second coming of Christ. Blasphemous, sacrilegious, irreverent, and yet, he has yet to be struck down and smitten—or perhaps he already has, and this is all a byproduct of his imaginary ruin.

“Think you can make it good?” He asks imperiously, already knowing in his bones this man would be as good at fucking as he is at literally anything else, as well evidenced by his previous attempt at giving Tee what was possibly the best blowjob of his life just, what, 40 minutes prior?

Joe scoffs, ducking his head down and pecking at his lips. “I just sucked your dick to incoherency, the fuck do you mean ‘can i make it good’? I got a pretty mouth and a pretty dick, think for yourself.”

Tee chokes in sheer disbelief—heart stuttering a bit at the brief press of lips but what-the-fuck-ever—the ego on this man, jesus. He flicks his eyes to the pink of his lips—shining, distracting, real fucking pretty—then, well, down past the puffy nipples and golden dusting of chest hair and layer of fat over abs to the nice curve of a cock—thick and long, veiny, a blushy pink head, a weirdly sexy little jolt like it’s show-ponying, like it knows he’s watching it and wants to show it likes it—that Joe likes Tee watching him. Yeah, real fucking pretty dick, too, damn it, fuck Joe Burrow.

Tee whines, turning back around to bury his face—knowing damn well it’s burning red even through the dark of his skin—in the curve of Ja’Marr’s neck and tries not to let the dual laughter of the boys who’ve quite literally captured his heart stutter it too much. Failed, but whatever, he’s got way too much practice over the years regulating his heartbeat to normalcy around these two.

Joe goes to scrape his teeth along the top his spine again and Tee shivers, feeling like prey caught in the maw of a tiger, which really won’t do—he’s a fucking bengal too, damn it. He bucks his hips back firmly, makes sure to rub the curve of his ass against the hard of his quarterback’s dick and hides his satisfied smile against his fellow receiver’s jaw when Joe gasps loud and startled, hand coming to grip at his hip hard, probably leaving bruises for him to brush his fingers wonderingly over later on.

Ja’Marr snickers approvingly, pressing his jaw back firmly against Tee’s mouth, “Yeah, tell him who’s boss, make him work for it.”

Tee presses a kiss right to the tender skin below his jawbone, leaves it there for a beat, two, three, feels like maybe he can make out the faint fluttering of his heartbeat against his lips, then lets up to say drily, “Pretty sure all your raving reviews does wonders for his ego. Don’t act like you’re not to blame here, Mr. Joe Burrow’s Numero Uno.”

Ja’Marr just shrugs unapologetically the best he could, pressed down as he is with Tee’s full weight all over him to the bed, never really one to be shy about his near piety to one Joe Burrow when it’s just them three. He’s been circling indistinct little patterns on the skin of Tee’s hips the whole time, but he stops for a minute to reach a hand up and tap a little rhythm teasingly over Joe’s thigh, now kneeling to the side, the only one still hard and with zero orgasms to his name that night, pouting but not admitting it.

Tee very obviously wouldn’t say no to having Joe’s dick inside him but playing hard-to-get just so Joe Burrow would pout and whine about not getting to fuck him is really—really fucking cute, actually, wow. Wow, god, Tee is so gone for him, he should really take a step back and regulate his entire life and emotional capacity, wow. Wow.

and in the end — over a distance of four hundred miles, her yearning and his yearning are intertwined, as though there were no spatial or temporal interval between them (jenny erpenbeck, kairos)

After it’s all done and not said, then, Tee’s left naked in the middle of the hallway leading to his bathroom, unable to take the steps back to his own room where his best friends are, clutching at his towel after having just pissed, and having orgasmed three fucking times by the combined willpower of his two closest teammates, all because he scored three touchdowns for a game—that might possibly be his last home game with them—that had playoff stakes. Fuck.

Heavy footsteps come up to him and he flicks his eyes up to see Joe staring him down—naked, gorgeous, sweat-slicked, his quarterback, his friend. Who had just fucked the bejeesus out of him.

Tee drags a hand down his face harshly. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

The lilt of Ja’Marr’s voice when he says my sweet, when he’s referring to Tee as my heart, when he’s saying Tee as my gorgeous. When Joe says gravely, jokingly, possessively, my number five, he’s saying that about Tee. 

Joe catches his hands—both of them—towel slipping away, and holds them and tugs at them until Tee is stumbling into him, lifting his chin up awkwardly so he won’t slam it into Joe’s nose but Joe doesn’t even do him the honor of avoiding it. He just tucks it into the curve of his Adam’s apple and breathes in deep like a weirdo. How many times has Tee just caught him with his nose buried in Ja’Marr’s neck as he hugs the receiver—how many times has he caught the man nudge his nose to the curve of Tee’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, after a game when he comes to him for a hug. Oh.

“Joe,” Tee breathes out, trembles, wonders how he’s supposed to word this out, how he’s supposed to say how he feels, how he’s supposed to say t

Ja’Marr, breathing in his air and telling him he doesn’t want him to leave. 

Tee sees Joe grin down his phone at ass o’clock in the morning and knows he’s reading i love you in between the letters of Ja’Marr’s why the fuck is all of cincy awake at 7 in the morning.

Ja’Marr says hey, all sleepy with the vowel dragging and it sounds like come here, you two. Tee goes, Joe right behind him a half step away.

a little more down the line — the only heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you (hozier, take me to church)

you do like all those pet names

he calls me all that all the time joe says nosing behind tees ear

i like calling you that too tee says, amused. letting his neck bend even more, what even are the words uncomfortable stretch when joe burrow has his nose buried in the curve of it. 

you called me baby, ja’marr says then, shy and a little quiet, like he’s saying something he keeps close to him and isn’t sure how he should breach it out of him. 

i call him that, joe says next, grin audible even if its not visible from where he’s pressed up behind tee

oh. tee called him baby, told him to come for him, and ja’marr gasped into his mouth and bursted all over tee’s belly, drenching him in white, whimpering as he stared into tee’s eyes with his own watering but still kept it open, didn't even close it because he didn’t want to. couldn't, maybe, tee thinks again.

oh, tee says out loud for real then, bumping his nose forward to ja’marr like he's learning that ja’marr likes to do, okay then, baby, come here, baby, let me see you, baby.

ja’marr laughs, bumps his nose right back. don't wear it thin. 

never, tee swears.

my baby, my baby, joe murmurs finally into the back of tee’s neck, pressing his fingers into the insides of ja’marr’s elbows.

.

.

.

i want more thumps. i want more time. i want to waste my love on everything. give me a heart for ohio. —(joy sullivan, instructions for traveling west, an octopus has three whole hearts)

more time together for these three, please.

WHICH APPARENTLY HEY THEY DID IT 😭😭👍👍👍👍 GOOD FOR THEM!!! trey next so help me!! when treys news comes out (🙏) maybe ill post that treymarr unfinished oblivious courting fic idk we'll see that ones more of a mess than this and also wayyy shorter lmao but anyways:::: thank u for reading through this all if u made it to this end note 😇🫶 goodbye see u again whenever i have it in me to show up again akdhsjdjdj love yall bengals super bowl 2k26 Believe! or whatever it is they all say in that 2021 run 💖

thank you for every one of you who've come into my inbox to ask how i am by the way!!!! adore and miss you all very much <33

[aleksanderscult]

It is also a teeny bit weird to make Zoya being prettier and thus a more ideal sun summoner be set up as thing to be proven wrong in the beginning but then Zoya actually becomes the Queen with lots of focus on how gorgeous she is and Alina fades into obscurity and wears old shawls.

I mean yeah.

Because apparently one of the messages this trilogy wanted to pass was how nothing is what it seems. Alina is not weak but very powerful, she just doesn't know it. Aleksander is not a man to be trusted but a selfish, power-hungry bastard, except Alina doesn't realize it until it was too late (*inserting dramatic tones if you didn't notice*).

Normally, Zoya wouldn't get that much spotlight. But, alas, Bardugo has said many times that she's one of her most favorite characters so she was bound to become important. A Squaller (among hundreds) became important by becoming a Saint as well.

Saints in the Grishaverse normally have very distinct, unusual powers. Alina had her light, Aleksander his shadows, Elizaveta's Materialki powers manifested themselves through her ability to control nature while Ilya didn't allow his powers to be restricted at all (he was both a Healer and a Durast as well as an inventor). Plus, they get martyred and Zoya is...well....alive.

Her push to the spotlight was, for me, too forced while, at the same time, the author tried to remove Alina's presence (as if she wasn't the main character for three books straight that the antagonist fell in love with and his plans revolved around her). Whether someone likes Alina or not, we have to admit that it's not going to be the same without her on the front. The story doesn't really make sense without her. It's like removing Harry Potter from his own books.

And it seems that whether Alina has powers or not, she stays hidden. And Zoya got what she wanted all along: the spotlight.