#“this is a game for men” vibe of it all. I would have made it prettier if I had time tho.

[sometimesanalice]

Morgannn!! 💖 oh I’m so, so happy you liked this! Fluffy, fun, and flirty vibes for days!

I’m so happy that it was something that made you smile! 🥰🥰

More for you!!

Oh, this was absolutely delightful and fun and exactly what I needed after this week! I broke into giggles and a smile more times than I could count! I love everything you write, but sometimes you pop off with the best little details and phrasings and it's such a joy to read your writing!—🥹🥹🥹

And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place. 

Quite literally the vibe for modern dating, and especially with how many men always forget Feb 14th is a holiday!!!!!— I just imagined her being like “are you sure??” like five times and this guy being like “it’s a Wednesday like yeah”. But truly, the amount of me not utilizing the notifications on their built in calendar is a CRIME. But especially on international hearts day!

And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Men don't appreciate good fashion. That's why we dress for the group chat and ourselves!— the girlies(gn) just want to look and feel cute! But also, you know that group chat was popping off with the🔥 emoji, lol

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

This visual this gave me! A beacon of pink! Get her a drink!— goodness knows miss ma’am needs one! She was just trying to go with the flow and have fun! But I loved trying to find ways to highlight just how out of place she was there, not only like with how she felt but also the setting!

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

STOP, THIS GOT ME!— I MEAN CAN YOU IMAGINEEEEE

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

Snaps for Selleck mention.— the OG mustache man!

Oh.

AN ITALICIZED OH, SO YOU KNOW IT'S GOOD!!!— ITALICIZED OH SUPREMACY!! (Also I’m so endlessly tickled by the amount of support the italicized oh has gotten 😂 I know I posted about it specifically, but I love how much love we all have for those two little letters!)

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

This was entirely too relatable. Those jeans are too slutty and the group chat must know! (nothing wrong with taking a lil pic either 🤫) — I was so obsessed with the idea of her being like “you guys won’t believe what happened” and her phone just blowing up the other night of her best babes wanting allll the tea! You know the brunch talk is going to be popping! (But the slutty beans and that cock walks are a lethal combo!!)

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

This whole pool scene was so fun! You captured Jake and Bradley's game with so much descriptive detail, it made me want to watch the movie again! Jake would absolutely get hustled, that man has too much ego to not get played.— ahhhh!! This is the best thing you could have said because Morgan I know nothing about pool lmaooooo 😂 I was reading as much as I could and snooping on r/billiards to figure out what was going on hahaha! All the while cursing myself for deciding her ace needed to be her sneaky pool shark skills. He would SO get played, he wouldn’t be able to help himself!

In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. 

This is quite literally one of my favourite ways a kiss has been described. So visual, yet you can feel it. It's going to be rolling through my brain for a bit, I love it!— stopppp!!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 there’s always so much pressure to try and get a first kiss right, so that makes me so happy that it landed well with you!! 🫶🏻

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.  

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in. 

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own.  “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.  

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.  

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it.  But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[televisionenjoyer]

Your plan? Getting everybody safe? That's good, okay, but it won't last forever.

Supernatural as a visual novel — 15x18 "Despair"

Based on my merlin as a visual novel gifsets.

ok so like. i have a lot of thoughts about all this. about what spn would look like as a game, about my creative process and whatnot so I'll put that on a reblog.

[g-k444]

From one slut to another, would love to be invited by my "friends" to play drink and games, only to end up tied and blindfolded as they smack my pussy and fuck me while making my guess who is who. If I guess wrong I'm not allowed to cum and will be spanked more and if I'm right...well I can't really stop them from forcing me to take their dicks and abuse, can I??

ohhh yes, you get the EXACT vibes girl..

"from one slut to another" has me fantasizing, thinking it'd be kinda hot to get fucked and used with another lil whore too

yk, being commanded and told what to do with you for their entertainment:

"go on, show what good sluts you are and play with each others' tits"

your boyfriend's friends rub up their shafts as they watch us, as between sniffs and quiet sobs we oblige and follow their instructions in fear - horrified at the way they let out noises of pleasure as you push your chest into mine, making your hard nipples push into my own soft breasts as I move my tits to sway and slap into yours

it's futile however, as regardless of the way that we play with one another for their entertainment - I'm still ripped away from you - and you from me, as someone shoved their cock into me and starts fucking me from behind whilst the same happens to you opposite me

im forced to have someone unwantedly fuck into my pussy whilst looking forwards - unable to tell who's even fucking me - and watch you in the exact same position, having your body fucked like a ragdoll and watching you cry and scream, just as helpless as I.

"lick her pussy, go on, clean all that cum up."

youre made to crawl to me whilst i lay on my back, broken from the fucking id endured, giving my pussy no avail as you yourself are forced to dip your tongue between my folds and pull away with the mens' white seed - still hot from ejaculation - covering your tongue, before you swallow it and lower your head back between my thighs to lap between my legs and clean my pussy of the amalgamation of my slick and the cum from all the other mens' release into me

but still, the audience is insatiable, and i let out a scream as i feel my body being lifted - yours as well - and another man holds my legs to stop my kicking and slot my legs between yours so that our thighs are interlocked, intimate parts flush with one anothers'

"c'mon, now scissor and share our cum between yourselves"

it's so degrading - and i can feel the tears rising to my eyes as i make no effort to move - my pussy so broken and sore from all the mens' fucking and then having you lick at my core... and you don't want to do it either.

But we're left with no choice again, as a pair of arms seizes the both of us from behind and starts making us scissor manually. picking us up and pushing us back together so that our pussies squelch and smush against each other, sharing the cum that still drips from between your legs and coating my pussy with it, painting my pussy white once more from the second-hand sperm that was once lodged within your fuckhole

...like, from one slut to another, would that not be so fucking hot??

[obsessivevoidkitten]

That Time You Got Yeeted Into Another World, Mistaken as a God-Sent Gift, and Used as a Prize in an Arena

Yandere Bear-Man Dilf x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, framed for a crime, language barrier, eaten out like it's groceries, biting, scent marking, musk, combat, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 765

(Speed written out of nowhere because I had the idea suddenly, not beta read so please forgive any mistakes. I hope you guys like this ficlet. Also forgive the title, in a game I was playing there was a crossover with "That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime" and I liked the vibe of the title.)

You were framed for a crime you didn't commit and in your village the punishment for that crime was immediate exile via being shoved down a steep crater in the center of which is a one-way portal to what is thought to be Hell.

What no one on your side of the portal knew was that on the other side was just another world. A world that celebrated with a great holiday anytime a human came through the portal. It was also a world populated entirely, with the exception of humans who crossed over, by human-like beast hybrids.

Driders, lion hybrids, nagas, aqrabuamelu (scorpion-men), harpies, dog people, centaurs, minotaurs, gnolls, and many other races that seemed to be part human. 

They have a connecting portal in their universe, but any who try to go into it are spat back out. The current went only in one direction.

Every few years, a human would be flung forth from the portal, a gift from the gods! But only the worthy can keep such a gift. So whenever a human comes to the realm from the watcher of the portal will ring the bells and all the warriors assemble and a grand tournament is held at the arena. Whoever wins gets to keep the human and gains enough wealth to care for them properly.

Things are no different when you arrive, you are immediately ushered away, examined, and pampered like a prize doll with no agency. Despite your objections. It seems like only the keeper of the portal has any rudimentary undestanding of your language, not that it helped you. He didn't explain much and his speech wasn't that great. Something about... a big game?

You were naturally frightened beyond all reason, seeing all these beast-men, but it didn't seem like you were being harmed. It really wasn't what you thought hell was going to be like. 

On the day of the big tournament, you were dressed in the finest silks, given a tiny crown of silver, and taken to the best seat in the arena. One where everyone could see you. A cushioned throne was provided for you to sit upon. You figured that this must be a ceremony to welcome people from the portal.

You watched as all the combatants sparred. At first you were horrified, but it became evident that people could yield and death was, almost always, avoided. There were combatants of every variety. 

Even from the start the best seemed to be a naga woman named Eeris and a bear-man named Brakwen. As they advanced through the fights they both finally made it to the finals where they'd clash. Eeris favored twin daggers and fangs while Brakwen used claws and brute strength. He had a sword but had not resorted to using it. 

It was a mighty battle but Brakwen the bear-man managed to win. You still did not yet realize you were the prize. Not until you were escorted down to him and were carried bridal style out of the arena with the crowd cheering. Brakwen had won the god's favor!

From close up he looked even more imposing. He seemed to be in his late 30s to early 40s. He mostly looked like a hairy man from far away though up close his massive size, sharp teeth, claws, thick fur covering his arms and quite frankly adorable bear ears, gave him away. He was rugged but admittedly rather handsome. You knew there was nothing you could do so you let him carry you away. 

Despite the language barrier, Brakwen did his best to please his god-given prize. He could tell you feared him. Especially since you tried to run off a few times. But Brakwen didn't get angry. You never even managed to get past the door. Even if you did there were two gates outside the house. You were far too valuable to let wander off. 

Eventually when you had stopped running off, and when his rut demanded he wait no longer, he began acting a bot more aggressove and sexual towards you. 

Though you tried to stop him it ended with him stretching out your hole with his powerful tongue, lubing you up with his copious amounts of drool, and sliding into you with his massive musky cock.

That's what your life was now. Being treated like a fragile precious gem most of the time and then for one week out of every month you were fucked full of hot bear cum in every possible position, bitten possessively, and scent marked by being forced to wear his oversized clothing. 

[maiamore]

PASS THE SALT, MR MILLER

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 4.5k

Summary: Joel finds out the hard way that leaving a pretty girl with blue-balls isn’t the smartest.

Or, Joel fucks you in his garage.

Tags: christmas-y vibes, fucking on Joel’s car, implied age gap,unprotected p in v, grumpy!joel, lots of yearning, squirting, sexual games, brat taming, outdoor sex, creampie

A/N: merry christmas folks! tbh this is just a game of how many fics can I write that has to do with (a) joel's truck or (b) joel yearning. side note, looped Disease - Lady Gaga track on repeat while writing this oops

MASTERLIST | MAIN STORY

Holidays have never really been something you celebrated. Fuck it, your own birthday even. It just wasn’t a priority you considered worth fussing over. Admittedly, your lack of enthusiasm for these events was probably why you ended up avoiding them. You would do the most for the people you loved but never for yourself.

Take Halloween for example. Your friends from Columbia were begging you for a slutty girls' night out, but you’d opted to stay home to help chaperone your younger brother Oscar’s party. Even so far as to set everything up, you’d made sure Oscar had a shot at being the coolest damn guy in his school. Fret not, jobless big sis is there to help ya. 

Of course, it hadn’t gone unrewarded, to put it loosely. All that really happened was some broody hot middle-aged dad jerking off in front of your face. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You found yourself staring at the pale green piece of paper your younger brother, Oscar,  handed you when he came home from school that evening. Eyeing the morbidly cliche design that screamed of some bored old receptionists' handiwork, you tilt it to get a better read.

Oak Ridge High School Annual Christmas Potluck.

Great. Another one. You were often the stand-in for his PTA Meetings in place of your ever so busy parents. While you had your fun with the free buffets and whatnot, you were getting tired of people asking how old you were when you “had” Oscar. 

*Calling all Parent Volunteers. Please Contact Joel Miller at +1 (512) 555 XXX for details. 

Now that got your attention.

Joel Miller. The man who, after that night, weaseled his way into your glorious collection of mental spank bank. Evident in the plethora of stolen nudie mags your mom stashed underneath her mattress—you’d gone as far to dog-ear pages of men who had the slightest resemblance to him. 

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. By him, his dick. All eight fuckin’ inches of pent-up old man dick. 

The desperation in the way he thumbed his slit, coaxing his milky cum into your waiting mouth in your bedroom flashed in your mind like post-traumatic-sex-disorder. You were robbed of a good fuck.

The beeps of your dial-pad echoed embarrassingly loud while you dialled the number on the flyer before fully seeing the idiocy in this move. The line connects after a few rings. 

“Miller. Who’s callin’?”

A shudder runs down your spine. His voice hit you like a freight train, low and gravelly, cutting through the faint clatter of what sounded like construction work on the other end.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Hang up. Hang–

“Hi.” You blurt out, forcing a higher register in your voice in a desperate attempt to disguise yourself. “I’d like to register. For the Christmas…thing.” There was a pause, followed by the clunk of something heavy and the sound of boots against a hard floor. 

“Right. You’re the parent of…?” 

You clutched your phone tighter when Joel’s voice rang clearer than ever, throat dry as you scrambled to speak. “Oscar.”

He repeats your last name when you offer it, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to place it–a flicker of recognition almost.

“Alright then,” he finally says, the faintest edge of suspicion still lingering.

 “Guess I’ll see ya there.”

—

Impulsiveness was something that fucked Joel over most times. 

Messing around with someone he’d consider uncomfortably closer to his daughter's age than his own settled within him like poison. 

It’d been two whole months since the incident at halloween and he was still hung up over you. He was certain that a pretty girl like you had far better prospects than a washed up crotchety shit like him. 

You plagued his mind every time his fist wrapped around his cock. Every time he’d tried to fuck the stress of working long hours of grunt work at the site. Your soft and sweet expression offered him instantaneous, sticky reprieve. 

Guilt, or something he should’ve been feeling over using your face as masturbation material didn’t quite blare the alarms in his head through post-nut clarities. 

He knew he had fucked up the second he had you on your knees that night. 

You parked your sedan in front of a navy chevrolet in the driveway. Hopping out of the car as you looked up at the quaint home, clean white siding, neatly trimmed lawn. 

You figured by the bustling noise from the backyard that a volunteer offered up their home and all. Generous, you thought. And then you catch it. The worn down navy mailbox that sprawled the letters–

M I L L E R

The swirl that was now your mind dragged painful throbs in your head. To be in his own backyard felt stalker-ish even for you. 

With a weary exhale, you click open the boot of your car. Worrying had to come later, you had to formulate a game plan for the boxes of fairy lights you somehow had to haul into Joel’s backyard.

With a heaving effort, you propped up two boxes into your arms when the shuffle of footsteps catches your attention, coming from beside the opening garage. 

“Hey! Sorry, could use a little help...” You call out instinctively. 

Only managing to catch a glimpse of a hand bracing against the rickety garage door to shove it all the way up with a loud metallic clang. 

The sound startles you, but not as much as the sight when one of the boxes lifts from your hold, revealing your apparent savior.

The both of you pause, staring at each other in slight shock. Well–for him at least. You had ulterior motives that came delivered to you all wrapped up in worn-out denim.

Joel’s expression was less than welcoming, which in his defense—he wasn’t quite expecting to see his ghost in his own yard. 

“What are you doin’ here?”

The curtness of his voice throws you, but it’s too late to think of turning tail and driving off.

“I’m…one of the volunteers.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel begins, lifting the last box out of your arms like they weighed nothing. “You signin’ up under your mama’s name just to come sniffin’ round’ me? That it?”

“What? No. She couldn’t make it,” you shoot back, a little too quick, a little too defensive. Joel wasn’t buying it, his unimpressed stare making you shift on your feet.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, already stepping over to your car. With a grunt, he hefted another box from your trunk, the effort drawing a low sound from his chest. 

The bitterness (and arousal) pools in your mouth at the noise he makes. 

Yes. You’d admit. You sniffed out Joel’s trail like some stray, chasing after the smallest crumb of him. It wasn’t irrational for you to think that you deserved some sort of closure. 

His voice cuts clean through your spiraling thoughts. “If you’re expectin’ somethin’, you best stop right there. I ain’t messin’ around.” You grimaced, fumbling for words. 

“I’m just here to help—” 

“S’enough outta you. Stay out of trouble.” He interrupts, not quite looking at you. 

Joel wills himself to flick his gaze anywhere but at you, one look at your face was enough to remind him of the fact, one look was probably enough to pop a damn boner. He sets the boxes down by the patio, knees cracking as he stretches back up with a grunt.

“Get someone to hang ‘em up. ‘Cause clearly,” he says, eyeing your sweater and skirt, “you ain’t dressed to actually help.”

He gives you a short, dismissive nod before turning away, leaving you standing there. Warmth pools your cheeks, feeling foolish to have gone this far for the attention of a man who made it clear that he didn’t seem to give a fuck whether you were here or not.

—

Joel spends the better half of the afternoon hovering around you. 

Approaching you normally was out of the question now that Sarah and the other kids began to flitter into his backyard to help with preparation. His daughter’s presence acted like a highly effective cock-block. Not that he had any business entertaining those kinds of thoughts in the first place.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Risky didn’t begin to describe it, so he kept his distance. That resolve went straight out the window when he spotted you, half-balanced on a ladder, hanging Christmas lights along the edge of his roof. With candy cane printed panties peeking out from under your skirt—god almighty, Joel nearly doubled over.

You could feel Joel's eyes on you while attempting to hang the lights over the siding. Purposefully going against what he said, purposefully giving everyone a goddamn show. 

"You ever learn how to listen?" 

“I can do it myself.” You shot back. Coyly soothing the back of your skirt. A proper fuck you to him at his insinuation that you’d been here just to man-trap him. Not that the notion did much. 

You felt the ladder steady with Joel’s hold. Effectively blocking everyone else from seeing what you were flaunting. 

"For the love of christ, darlin’, get down." 

“For the love of christ, I’m almost fuckin’ done.” You parroted his words back to him with an annoyed huff. It was hard not to let Joel infiltrate your mind but lack of his attention was eating you up–making you do crazy things, evidently.

With a satisfied huff at the placements, you brought your arms down.

Why did that…feel heavy?

A sharp crackle and metallic clatter fills the air before you fully completed your thought, the chains of lights comes tumbling down. You froze. Lowering your gaze to see the single goddamn twine snagged onto your sweater that you’d effectively yanked down with you. 

The bulbs burst into chaotic pops as they hit the ground, shards of glass scattering like tiny fireworks across the patio, drawing everyone’s attention.

Joel doesn’t hesitate, his hands found your waist as he lifted you off the ladder and set you firmly on the ground to safety with a grunt, his eyes snaps to the shards of glass glinting in the light and the fresh scratches marring his freshly varnished patio.

"You gotta be shittin' me..." He mutters, the irritation sharp in his drawl.  

“Mr Miller…”

Joel held up his palm as a sign to get you to be quiet so he could speak. Damn if you calling him Mr Miller now of all times didn’t make him want to haul your ass up to his bedroom.

Which he might add, seemed conveniently close.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose. "D’you think before you do anythin’ at all? Or do you just act on impulse?" He asks in a sharp and biting tone, looking directly at you as he spoke.

You cock your brow at his words. Surely he wasn’t seriously reacting this way to a couple of broken lights. To mention, your lights.

“What? Think about being a decent person to help?”

"A decent person would've listened the first time when I told you to leave it the hell alone," he snapped, stepping closer. "A decent person wouldn’t have shot me attitude n’ thrown a damn temper tantrum when I told you to get down."  

“What are you getting so bent out of shape for?”

“For starters, you wrecked my patio, darlin’.” He grumbles. Rubbing the back of his neck in the slightest amount of awareness that he’d overreacted, though he’d rather chew rocks than admit it. 

You don’t answer him. Humiliated as is. Your pouty-ness showed in the way you stomped over to get the broom that lay in the corner. He watches you regardless, arms folded taut.

“Goddamned train-wreck.” He mutters under his breath after a long pause, not even giving you the chance to let an apology leave your lips before he turns his heel to leave.

—

You didn’t take it well when people spoke to you like you were stupid. 

An Ivy League degree hung the walls of your room for fucks sake. Who the hell did Joel think he was? As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, you’d tucked your tail between your legs to sweep it all up without a word. The embers that lay dormant were further fanned as time passed. You were pissed.

Joel, on the other hand, begins to feel guilt at the way he’d reacted. Even in the corner of his eyes, he sees you helping set up with the rest of the parents. It wasn’t the behaviour of some reckless nympho he imagined you to be when you stepped foot into his yard. 

You didn’t have to stand there to stand under the sun in the unforgiving Texas heat, refilling lemonade for the parent’s committee. Or entertain Sarah and the rest of the kids. You’d turned his backyard into a damned Christmas Wonderland by the end of the night.

You were a good girl, he figures after a long while of brooding.

And he tries. He tries to approach you to apologize but you didn’t seem to be having it. Going out of your way to swerve at the slightest sight of him near you. Which he gets.

You were over it, really. Chalked it up to his personality being generally the way it was. But what really helped you get over your humiliation? Seeing Joel Miller fucking grovel. 

Which you were acutely aware of with the way he lingered around you, waiting for an opening that you deprived of him.

—

The skies grew to a dusky violet, the backyard gently lit up with the soft twinkle of the fairy lights you’d painstakingly hung up (and re-hung). Lull of familiar Christmas classics playing by the speakers. 

The warmth of the chatter and laughter surrounding the table tugged at your edges, coaxing a reluctant smile to your lips. You weren’t ready to admit it, but the festive mood was infectious.

You sat near the end of the committee’s table, the seat next to you conspicuously empty. The kids–Oscar, Sarah, and their friends were huddled at their own table. You briefly wondered if you should join them instead, given that the current hot topic at your table being mortgage rates.

The thud of a melamine crystal glass landing next to your plate broke your train of thought. You flick your gaze up, your expression hardening the moment you caught sight of Joel dragging the empty chair over next to you and lowering himself into it with a creak.

Without a word, he slides the glass closer to you, taking a sip from his own. His movements were deliberate, careful, like a man trying not to step on a landmine.

Joel wasn’t quite well-versed in apologies, as evident by Sarah’s constant reminders that one of these days he was going to piss a woman he actually fancied. His hand stretches over your lap, unfurling the napkin on the other side of you to drape it over your thighs. 

“Could you pass over the salt, sweetheart?” 

You tilt your head, arching a brow, not moving a muscle. Instead, you shot him a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh and a muttered curse under his breath, Joel stands up, his knees popping audibly as he leaned across the table to grab the salt himself. He slumps back into his chair, setting it down with a huff. How could a little thing like you hold so much anger?

“Done torturin’ me yet?” 

A scoff leaves your lips. 

“Who said I was?” 

“I’m tryin’ to apologise, sweetheart.” You shudder at the manner he whispers the words out. As though it was a secret reserved for just you and him. 

You rest your cheeks on your palms, shooting him an uninterested look. Joel’s eyes darts down to your plate that you were pushing to him. He doesn’t hesitate, reaching over and starts loading your plate up again with generous portions of the dishes spread across the table. The sight of him doing so, quiet and almost reverent, made your chest sing.

Oh this. This you could get used to.

For the next twenty minutes, you’d milked Joel’s newfound contrition for all it was worth. Needed a refill? Joel was already reaching for your glass. Running low on napkins? He was up and grabbing a fresh one before you even asked. You’d even braced yourself for him to snap when you made a fuss over your creaky chair, but to your delight, he stood up and swapped it out without so much as a grumble.

Unfortunately for you, your luck does runs out.

The flutter of your napkin onto the makeshift mat spread across the lawn catches his attention, his eyes darting to the rogue square of fabric before slowly flicking back up to meet your gaze. You leaned back in your chair, looking at him expectantly, lips quirking just enough to toe the line between innocent and insufferable.

Joel’s jaw twitches.

“Fuckin’ pick it up on your own, sweetheart.” his voice was laced with just enough irritation to make your smirk widen. Still, you couldn’t resist one last little prod.

Your legs shifted, one crossing over the other, the toe of your shoe brushing lightly against the denim of his jeans. His eyes darted down to the motion before snapping back up, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to apologise?” 

Joel shifts in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “Think I settled my debts, crackles.”

You roll your eyes at his taunt, the warning laced in it only served to burn in your gut like uncontrollable lust. You felt yourself grow bored now that he’d ruthlessly cut you off from your only source of entertainment. 

The thrill begins to wane, you’d grown impatient at Joel’s lack of well, giving in. Though the idea, a possibly stupid one, that you might’ve needed to give him a little push crosses your mind. 

With a deliberate stretch, you rose from your seat, leaning over the table to reach for the salt shaker resting comfortably on Joel’s side with a hand placed on his thigh. It was perfectly positioned for him to hand it over to you–if you’d bothered to ask. But that wasn’t the point.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the faint tick of his pulse. Slowly, you eased back into your seat, dragging your fingers in a slow deliberate curve as you went.

The sharp grip of his hand on your wrist came next, firm enough to make you gasp. Joel’s dark eyes locked on yours, his nostrils flaring as he tried to keep whatever storm was brewing behind them at bay.

You pressed your tongue against your cheek, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. He’d taken the bait all right. The unmistakable rise against where your hand was placed told you what you needed to know. Hook, line, and sinker.

It doesn’t quite matter to him whether you’d forgiven him anymore. 

With a sharp tug, Joel pulls you up with him. “S’cuse me. This one isn’t feeling too well.” 

The protest dies in your throat when Joel practically hauls you across his yard, away from the nosy glances from the rest of the parents. 

You frown at the dusty old garage he leads you to up front where you’d parked your car. A hand comes up the back of your head to force you to duck underneath the half opened door, cringing at the loud sound it draws. 

You tip your head up to watch Joel grab the edge of the half-opened garage door to full slam it down shut.

Fuck. You felt your cunt clench with the way his sleeves tightened around his forearms, wetting your lips subconsciously at the sight.

“This where you murder me, Mr Miller?”

His jaw ticks at that. There it was again. Mr Miller.

“Shut up.”

You mouthed the words wow as you looked to the side. As though there was a camera you were monologuing to. Joel approaches you tentatively. Backing you up until you feel sturdy metal stop your path. 

A firm slam against the hood you were backed up against causes you to jolt. 

“You’re fuckin’ with me.” He begins. Shifting closer until he had you snug against him and the truck. “You’ve been fuckin’ with me.”

You tilt your head up. Neck stretched uncomfortably to its limit. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel sighs. Looking towards the side, as though he might back off and run away again. 

“This ain’t right.”

You frown. Why was he getting cold feet now? You gaze darts to the side, following his line of vision. A frilly pink bicycle parked in the midst of the dusty old boxes stacked up against concrete walls. Some labelled with years of mementos of his daughter growing up. 

Joel groans when he feels a much smaller, soft hand cup against the growing strain on his jeans. “Judging by this, I think you’re full of shit.”

His restraint teeters on the edge. “Don’t.” He grasps around your wrists to stop you, though, he half asses it, barely with the amount of strength he could’ve used if he’d really wanted you to stop.  

You palm against his erection, feeling it quickly harden beneath. You suck in your breath at the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the slight twitch of his lips. A whimper leaves your lips at how receptive he’d been to your touch. 

“You’re trouble.” He manages. Finally meeting your gaze. You can tell he’s conflicted, but the way you cupped around his balls through the denim has him keeling over with a rough exhale. 

He finally gathers enough strength in him to force your hand away from his cock. Just as you were about to whine about it, he flips you over. You steady your palms against the hood of his truck. 

“Gotta be quiet. You understand me?” You nod quickly. Not daring to speak considering how his voice already echoed in the garage even at its softest.

Your elbows move to rest against the dirtied metal. Folding it so you could comfortably rest your head on it. 

Joel lets out a low whistle at the way you bend your hips. Hiking your skirt up slowly. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He mutters. Thumb swiping against the growing dampness of your panties. 

A dull noise from his zipper is the only other thing you hear when you feel him grind his clothed cock against you. 

“Mr Miller—please.” You breathed out. Your thighs tenses, wiggling your hips higher to relieve the ache you felt. Feeling his hardness prod against your folds. 

Joel sighs softly, thumbing against your clit before you curl into yourself. “Don’t need it.” You breathe out quickly. There’s a pause in his movements before you feel a thumb hook around the waistband of your panties. Dragging it down to your ankles. 

The sound Joel makes at the sight of your slick stringing down the gusset of it makes him wince out audibly. Two fingers gather the slick of your folds, messily dragging it up and down your clit in a repeated notion. His fingers dipping in and out of you with a squelch. You groan out. Hips stuttering at the sensation. 

“Hurry.” You urged.

You feel his other palm carefully twirl around the back of your hair. The breath knocks out of you when he heaves you backwards into his chest with a sharp tug. Fingertips entwined with your locks.

“Been patient with ya all fuckin’ day and ya think you got the right t’rush me now?”

Tears threaten to prick in the corners of your eyes at his tone. You grip around his wrist where he holds your hair. “…hurts” , you whisper, guiding his other hand back to your clit, “..here.”

Joel swallows thickly. He clenched his jaw so damn tight you audibly heard just how hard he ground them. How could he deprive you further when you were begging so sweetly? 

He shucks his jeans down further, guiding his twitching cock out from his boxers. A drawn out groan leaves your lips when he nudges the head of his cock against your soaking pussy. Your moan echoes loudly into the space around you both. 

He growls into your ears. Before you could apologise, your voice gets muffled around the heavy palm that comes to cover your mouth. You whine against it. “Told t’be fuckin’ quiet.” He grits, voice hushed against the side of your head. 

Your eyes nearly roll back at the way he begins to thrust into you with the tip in an effort to get you used to his size. But it didn’t matter. The way his cockhead stretched your pussy out stung. But it was quickly replaced by the nauseating need to be fucked full. 

Joel leans down to trace kisses up your neck before he fully sheathes himself into you. The muffle around your mouth grows tighter to suppress the loud moan. “Shh shh…you’ve got it.” He praises, breathing heavily into your ears. 

The tears trickle directly over his knuckles. He releases the grip he had on your hair, looping around your abdomen. Snapping his hips into you at a punishing pace. You babble incoherently, practically slobbering into his palms, whining about how deep his cock was pounding into you. 

The obscene slaps of where the two of you connected fills the garage, only spurring his need to fill you deep with his come. 

Joel lets out a groan when you clench around his dick like vice. “Fuck. Pussy’s chokin’ me.” His head drops to the dip of your neck. Pressing kisses onto your pulse point. 

“Don’t think I can last much longer.” He admits, dragging his hand–slick with your saliva down to your throat. His head flush against your shoulder blade. He takes a moment to breathe you in. Joel isn’t quite the man he used to be and coming this embarrassingly fast wasn’t on his docket. Least of all tonight. 

You squirm a little at the sensation of Joel’s stubble against your shoulder. A deep exhale leaving your lips. 

“M…me too..” You pant out heavily. Resting your head back against his chest. Joel’s free hand slides underneath your sweater, yanking your bra down. 

A rough palm kneads the softness, tweaking your hardened nipples in a circular motion. “Shit. Mr—…Miller.” You manage. Squirming at how his palm gropes your tits clumsily. You give yourself the final push you needed, your fingers coming down to rub against your clit. 

Joel’s hips stutter at the sensation of your pussy convulsing around his cock, following your orgasm soon after. But he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it. Both his hands firm around your hips. 

Your hands hastily come up to grab around his wrists. “Wait—stop—…stop.” You gasp out. Joel doesn’t quite register your pleas with how his mind was whirring around wanting to fuck his come deep into you until he feels a warm splatter of your release trickle down his thighs. 

Your bated breaths fill the garage. Mortified, you watch the liquid drip from the radiator grill of Joel’s truck. 

“I’ll be damned.” He muses, earning a warning look from you. Joel shakes his head, a low rumble from his chest makes you feel a little less embarrassed about squirting onto his truck. He turns you around to press a kiss onto the apple of your cheeks. 

“Been meanin’ to get er’ washed. Guess I don’t gotta anymore.”

[nashyuck]

Undeniable

(college friends, friends to lovers, dream dorms, sexual tension, creampie, oral sex, unprotected sex, pet names)

summary; The tension built up between y/n and Jaemin finally breaks when a hopeless y/n shows up at the Dreamies college dorm only to be welcomed by a shirtless irresistible Jaemin.

warnings; mature content MINORS DNI!

______________________________________________________________

The chemistry and sexual tension between you and Jaemin was undeniable. Your friends had started to catch up with the little looks exchanged between the both. Despite the evident sexual tension, you and Jaemin had never dared to make any sort of move. It was risky, you had been friends for over 7 years, it was risky to ruin the friendship and make things awkward for the rest of your friends. 

“Y/n have you packed?” Haechan asked as you maintained silence lost in your own world. Questioning how you’d get through this getaway knowing that you’d hear Jaemin morning voice for a whole week! Full of pure temptation. 

“Yeah I packed last night, I wanted to come in and check in with you guys about timing” being at the dorms was normal for you,  you spent a lot of time at their dorms, yes a apartment full of men might seem outrageous but it was better then staying in your dorm and listening to your roommate argue with her boyfriend 24/7. 

“This getaway is needed, midterms are finally over and we get a whole week off school” renjun whispered. 

“Drinks, girls, parties, and good music sounds like a vibe to me… can’t remember the last time I hooked up with someone” Haechan’s horny ass was known to be passed around on campus, the man has the looks, charisma and confidence. It wasn’t a surprised to the to everyone when a random girl snuck out of the dorms mid night. 

“Who knows maybe Y/N will finally hook up with someone” Haechan laughed.

“Unlike you i’m not a whore who sleeps with anyone” and its true the last time you hooked up with someone was a year ago right after your break up with Jaehyun. It didn’t feel right to have sex with just anyone. But one of the main reasons was your time spent at their dorms, men assumed that you were part of some orgy or that you were in a relationship with one of them. 

“Starting sound like a bitch to me” Haechan giggled

“Alright you fucken whore sincen you want to talk all that shit I’ll prove it to you that im fuckable” you claimed, noticing Jaemin’s gaze from the corner of your eyes. 

……………………………………………………………………………

Sleeping at your dorm seemed impossible considering the fact that your roommate continued to argue with her boyfriend through the phone. Not that it was the first time you had failed to fall asleep due to the noise, although most days you didn’t mind today was different, tomorrow would be long date of traveling to Busan and you didn’t want to be tired. 

Grabbing your belongings and making your way to the guys dorm in hopes that the fuckers weren’t already in the gaming mode or asleep. The walk was short so carrying your bags wasn’t such a hassle. 

Despite the 10 failed calls to Haechan, mark, Renjun, Chenle, jeno and Jisung you still made your way to their dorms in hopes of one of them opening the door. Calling Jaemin would have to be your last resort, you hated asking him for help despite his constant pleading and nagging of always calling him first. 

Finding yourself at their door, not a single call back nor reply to you knocking their door, there was no other choice but to call Jaemin. 

“Hi beautiful, why are you calling so late? We have a long trip tomorrow” Jaemin’s voice sounding tired, it was evident that he was ready to sleep. 

“I wasn’t able to sleep, my roommate is arguing with her boyfriend again, was hoping I can crash here can you open the door for me nana” you said sounding tired and upset. 

Jaemin loved it when ever you called him nana. He found it adorable how it sounded coming from you he didn’t know if it was because the nickname was only known by those close to him or if because it was you saying it. 

“Of course beautiful” 

One thing about Jaemin is that he never failed to call you sweet names like beautiful, gorgeous, princess, sunshine and pretty. He never failed to praise you and call you sweet names. Sometimes it gave you hopes that maybe he liked you a little but you knew Jaemin was just so soft spoken. 

Seconds later a shirtless messy hair Jaemin opens the door welcoming you with a smile, he looked sleepy. It was moments like this were you wished you could jump his bones and give him the best head. 

“Sunshine you walked here in those shorts ? Its late, it isn’t safe for a beautiful girl like you to be walking alone in the dark” despite his concerned words, deep down he wished this sight of you in those small shorts, messy hair and oversized hoodie was a sight only for him. He wished the hoodie you were wearing was his and not marks. He wished you had called him so he could’ve walked with you and make sure you were safe. 

“The walk isn’t long, and most people already left campus jaem, im pretty sure I was the only one walking at this time on campus” you said taking your shoes off and walking in with your bags. Jaemin didn’t notice them at first, taking your bags he placed them in the couch.

“You can sleep in my bed sunshine, I don’t mind sleeping out here” jaemin didn’t like the fact that you’d have to sleep out in the living room while everyone else slept in their comfy warm beds. 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind sharing a bed, we’ve done it before” 

it was true, you and Jaemin had shared beds before, when there was limited rooms at Chenle’s family beach house, you had no choice but to share a bed with one of them based on a game of rock paper scissors. 

Making you way to Jaemin’s room you felt butterflies, you’ve shared a bed before but this times it felt different. Maybe it was because the shirtless man kept walking extremely close tp you. Not that you mind but his body heat was intense and you loved the fact that he smelled like fresh soap and cologne. 

Hearing haechans and marks screams, only made you feel more hot considering the fact that both of the fuckers were up yet none answered made your blood boil. 

Jaemin’s room smelled just as intoxicating as him, you could spend hours in here. 

“You lay down first princess, Im going to edit some photos for a while, I really want to have these done before our trip” Jaemin sat in this chair man spreading its like he wants to purposely drive you insane. He has such broad shoulders and amazing tits, it drove you insane how he was just sitting there focused on his computer and had you rubbing your thighs together. 

Feeling hot, the hoodie not longer felt comfortable

“Nana can I borrow a shirt? I want to change into something more comfortable” 

Jaemin felt his heart skip, you had never worn his clothes before and it was a sight he was hoping to see. Giving you as smile while walking to his drawers and grabbing a pain white t shirt he wore on a daily.

Walking out of the bathroom now in jaemin’s shirt turned you on even more. 

“Hi y/n I just saw your message, but it looks like jaemin already helped you, see you tomorrow” Haechan said from this room still wearing his head set. 

“Whore, I called you like 10 times not a single call back, hope you choke in your sleep” you said rushing to Jaemin’s room pushing the door closed. 

Jaemin turning around to a new sight that only made feel hot and bothered. He could bend you right over his desk and make you scream his name. 

Not 10 minutes go by when you feel someone a second body lay in the bed. Making you feel nervous at the presence, feeling a pair of hands wrap around your waist pulling you in for a cuddle. He was so intoxicating that you didn’t even feel yourself rubbing against his crotch. 

“Princess don’t tease, I will not have any self control” Jaemin’s voice was so deep and sodding. 

Feeling his tent made you whimper, it was like music to Jaemin’s ears. 

“jae.. jaemin please” 

“Please what baby.. I need you to use your words” 

“Please touch me nana” 

Jaemin didn’t need any further instructions, moving his hands up to cup your breast and play with your nipple making you moan. 

“So soft and perfect for me princess, how I’ve been wishing to make you mine” 

Removing his hands off you and hovering over you, taking the white shirt off exposing your chest to him. 

“Look how perfect, such perfect tits bet you’d like it if I put them in my mouth” 

Jaemin was always so soft spoken and hearing these words made your mind cloud. He was so sexy. Chain hanging from his neck, abs so evident it was impossible to keep your hands off him. 

He leaned down for kiss that turned into a deep passionate make out session inviting his tongue in your mouth pushing up against his bulge, a groan escaped his mouth. 

“Why don’t we remove these lovely shorts off you, want to help my princess feel better” 

He moved down, removing your shorts and panties, he wish he could take a picture of you with his camera, you looked so beautiful, it was driving him insane. Spreading your legs open he licked his lips. 

“You’re soaking baby all for me, look at that pussy perfect just for me, bet you taste lovely” 

Feeling a wet kiss at your cunt, it was like heaven, jaemin was gentle and slow. Your pussy was so addicting to him, he could eat you out for hours and never get tired of your taste and smell. Pushing a finger in you made you gasp, having his fingers and mouth was making you dizzy. Seeing stars, jaemin began to rub circles against your clit senting you over the edge. 

“Fuck Jaemin im cumin” you screamed as your orgasm hit. 

He watched you as you rode your orgasm salivating. You looked so hot messy hair and chest rising due to your overpowering orgasm. Jaemin brought his fingers to his mouth licking your juices . 

“Are you going to continue looking at me or will you finally fuck me” the sudden confidence only made his dick twitch. 

Pulling him in for a wet kiss tasting yourself. Shoving one of your hands down his pants to release his members from his sweats. 

“Stop teasing me princess” jaemin groaned against your mouth. 

Rolling both of you over, you’re now on top of him wet pussy right on top of his dick that was partially sticking out of his sweats. You begin to grind against him making a moaning messy out of jaemin. You wanted him so bad, moving down to remove his sweats and boxers releasing his pink, pulsing dick. Licking your lips you take his tip in your mouth and begin to suck. 

“Fuck princess, you feel so good” 

Taking all of him gasping for air, Jaemin was big. You knew he’d be big but never imagined you’d be gasping, tears rolling down your face. Pulling out leaving a mess on his dick. Jaemin’s eyes were now dark full of lust.

“On top of me Now” 

Obeying his orders your get on top Jaemin naked parts meeting, you being to aline his dick against your enters. Pushing down to only take the tip both a moaning mess. 

“So big” you moan as you slowly push down taking him whole. The stretch wasn’t painful, it felt good. You began to grind in circles clenching against him causing to groan to escape. 

“Fuck baby if you keep doing that ill cum fast” 

You continued to move faster, jaemin thrusting up made you scream as he hit your cervix. 

“Fuck im gonna cum” he moaned.

“Please Jaemin cum inside me” you pleaded, wanting to feel him paint your walls. 

He began to rubbing your clit as you continued to ride him, sending shivers down your spine, making you see stars and jaemin spilled his seeds in you triggering your second orgasm screaming his name. 

“Jaemin… fuck… so good” 

As you laid on top him dick still inside of you, jaemin rolled you over now laying naked on his bed seeds spilling out of you. 

“let me get a towel and clean you up princess” 

As he stood up putting on his boxers, the realization hit you. You just had amazing sex with jaemin, the man you had been edging yourself too for months. Part of you felt embarrassed, he had now seen you naked, what he regretted having sex with you. What if he saw this a fling. 

“Angel, you’re all cleaned up how about you put on this t shirt and we cuddle, we have 5 hour before we have to be up” Jaemin looked sleepy and drained out. 

————————————————————————

Feeling the sun kiss your skin your stretch, a body cuddling you. 

‘“Good morning beautiful, how did you sleep?” 

Jaemin looked so beautiful, puffy face, messy hair and raspy voice.

“I slept good, ready for todays trip” sitting up looking around seeing your shorts on the ground. 

“How about we take a shower together and replay last nights activities” jaemin was bold for assuming you’d have shower sex with him knowing the guys were right next door. Not that stopped you last night.

Hearing a knock at the door a tired Haechan spoke “are you guys up or fucking again, geez jaemin let the poor girl breath” 

Oh that was so embarrassing, they heard you last night, Jaemin smirked proud of himself. 

“Now princess there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, they need to get used to hearing you, after all im going to be making my girl feel good all the time” Jaemin’s words make you blush. Suddenly being hit with the realization that he came inside of you. 

“Omg Jaemin you came inside of me we need to go buy a plan b and some condoms” 

“Whatever my princess wants, now how about round two in the shower”

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

-nashyuck

NOW TAKING REQUESTS!

[cheerysmores]

My wife once told me she would never play Baldur's Gate 3 because 'it's that slut game.' One year later she finally caved and did her very first playthrough.

May I present: Mrs. Cheery's chaotic gremlin adventure to Baldur's Gate.

Act 1

Our hero is the drow fighter, Lady Coolio. To this day we do not know whether Lady is her name or her title. She has a big sword, big tits and one goal: get to The Baldur's Gate with no distractions.

Escaped the 'Meat Bus' (Nautaloid). "Right how close am I to Baldur's gate? Like three hours?"

Sold her camp clothes by accident and was very sad that all she had to run around in was a grey hobo sack. (No mods. Sorry wife)

Asked if Withers was Solas's Dad.

Lady Coolio calls Astarion rat boy. In Wifey's words “he told me ‘when I was a little lad Cazador made me eat rats.’”

To be fair she isn't great with names so Halsin = Hoisin Sauce, Lae'zel = onion lady, Volo = Volvo, Cazador = Calzone (sometimes)

In camp: Gale "I'd like to show you something rather magical". Lady Coolio: "I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR MAGIC PENIS"

“There are so many dead bodies everywhere this entire place has got to stink” (just act 1 generally)

Act 2

Ran into the shadow cursed lands very under levelled and Last Light inn instantly got sacked. Bad news as she was romancing Karlach and now can’t get her second upgrade. Lady Coolio firmly blames Isobel for "triggering like three opportunity attacks when she could have... not done that."

Died to the shadow curse a LOT. Her: “Why is everyone dying????” Me: “Remember the moon lantern?” Her: “The what?” Me: “… that thing with the swearing pixie in it” Her: “ I still have to use that????” Me: “ yes, because Isobel is dead” Her: "WHY IS SHE STILL CAUSING PROBLEMS."

Hates the Gauntlet of Shar. Asked Shadowheart, “Is Shar the only goddess with an Olympic qualifier to join her religion?”

And now a series of comments on the Dead 3's chosen: “so the bad guys are evil undead Santa, Lady Gaga and the ugliest man I’ve ever seen?”)” “Is Gale… horny for that crown??” “Maybe Myrkul would be more threatening if he wasn’t standing in an giant toilet and not moving”

On discovering the Emperor) “wait my fairy god mother is a SQUID??? oh :( ”

She did however become half illithid but hated that she ended up with varicose veins on her boobs.

Gale and Astarion then graduated to “those weak pudding men” because they kept getting stuck halfway across the map by missing jumps. Act 3

Said “Brexit means Brexit” every time she met someone who was complaining about the refugees.

Went to see Raphael at Sharess's Caress. Didn’t sign his contract “ I trust neither Lord Farquad nor squid man but I’m not selling my soul to someone who has such bad vibes.”

At Gortash's coronation. "I thought he was popular? Like seven people turned up to watch it. Is it because he's really ugly and smells like Lynx (Axe) body spray?"

She wanted to eat Orin's outfit because it looks like delicious bacon.

Walking around the city: "so where do I go??" "Anywhere you like." "I hate this."

She would not stop stealing things. I think she murdered the entire battalion of flaming fist in the lower city because "a lady's gotta eat." She also killed everyone in sorcerer’s sundries including Rolan.

Had the prototypical stress aneurysm while doing the iron throne but somehow managed to get ALL the hostages out.

Lae’zel was kidnapped by Orin for 9 in game days . When I asked about this she said “FINDING CLOWN MEAT IS MORE IMPORTANT.”

“Why does every door here lead to the sewer????? And why are there so many live mines in the sewer??”

(in the basement of the elfsong) “soo because the Emperor has a shitty basement I’m supposed to be best friend with him now? This soup recipe does not make me trust you squid man”

Halsin “nature used all its powers when crafting you” Wife “well it also crafted bacon lady (Orin) so swings and roundabouts”

Astarion stayed a spawn and she convinced Gale not to use the crown. “No one is becoming ultimate bitch on my watch”

Despite her distrust of the Emperor she still allied with him in the final fight. Because, and I quote, "Lady Coolio's goal is to stop the Absolute. The Emperor has the same goal. I don't know when I became everyone's therapist and in charge of them making better choices but I'm putting my foot down at replacing dehydrated onion queen with baldy prince king over here. The Gith's religion is not my problem."

In her canon Lady Coolio and the Emperor high fived when they won.

85 hours later and Lady Coolio is the hero of Baldur's Gate. Please enjoy this picture of our heroine.

[eclipseiz]

The Gladiator PT.2 18+

Part One

pairing- hanno/lucius x fem! oc 1790 words

(♡ synopsis)- general acacius's daughter became intrigued by the violent gladiator she saw perform in the games and just had to meet him. (lucilla is not her mother)

warnings- p in v, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), fingering

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Sabina quietly moved around the pillars of her home, careful not to make a sound but gave up when she saw Lucilla sitting on the edge of the fountain dipping her fingers into the water.

Sabina walked forward and removed her hood, “I hope you were not waiting for me.”

Lucilla softly gasped and turned to face the young girl. “I didn't see you in your chamber. I waited for your return.” she stood 

Lucilla’s eyes looked watery and Sabina took note of how her hands shook, “What is troubling you?”

The older blonde smoothed out her wrinkly dress and took a deep breath before responding, “That gladiator he did something that made me reminisce of a memory long ago.” she paused and brought her bundle of herbs to her nose smelling for comfort, “It's him Sabina, it's my boy, my Lucius.” she gave a teary smile.

Sabina couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man whom she just had sex with was her step-mothers long lost son. She had heard tales of the boy ever since Marcus married the woman. “And you're sure of this?” she reached for the woman's hands.

“He has those same bright blue eyes I remember and he performed just as his father would have.” she sobbed, “Your father and I have created a plan to free him.” she looked around before continuing, “Marcus shall move into the gladiator quarter with a select group of trusted soldiers.”

The General's daughter took the information in and nodded,  “Sounds of a solid plan.” she backed up taking in all of the information she had received.

“Where did you run off to tonight?” Lucilla asking with furrowed brows.

Sabina bit her cheek, “Ravi asked for my assistance after the games, I didn't want to keep him waiting.”

Lucilla smiled, “I'm sure.” she said in a taunting tone before pinching the girls cheek, “Sleep asks of me, I will see you in the morning.” Bidding the girl a good-night she disappeared into a dark hallway making Sabina let out a relieved sigh, thankful for her not prying.

A short few days later Sabina sat to Lucilla’s right in the colosseum for yet another day of games. She nervously looked at the water containing bloody thirsty sharks.

“Today will be an entertaining game.” Geta smiled proud of his idea, bringing a goblet of wine to his lips

Caracalla’s laugh boomed out, “That it will brother.” his eyes moved behind him to the General's daughter. “Sabina, come sit next to me, keep your emperor company.”

Her eyes shot up to him before moving her eyes to her father who only gave her a silent nod not to disobey the mentally unwell man. “It'll be my honor.” She took the seat next to him and almost immediately he threw an arm around her shoulder bringing her in close. 

The Roman people watched in excitement and nerves as Hanno was announced, coming out on a boat. Sabina sat straight up, curtly clapping in support.

Lucius moved around the back of the boat shouting orders at his men to take the other boat out, fighting his eyes who only seemed to be focused on the emperor's box where a certain woman resided.

Sabina nervously shook her leg as she watched the two boats crash into each other. Ignoring the howling emperor's next to her. Caracalla turned his attention to her and leaned his lips to her ear. “You do not look entertained. Do your emperors not put on a good show for you?” he questioned with fury burning in his gaze.

She fought to roll her eyes, “My features cannot express the astonishment I feel.” she answered in a clipped, sarcastic tone..

Before she could blink Caracalla landed a sharp slap to her cheek, “Do not answer in such a tone!” Behind them Lucila gasped while Marcus gripped his chair tighter.

Lucius heard the commotion and looked up to see the red mark now plastered on Sabina and the emperor yelling in her face. His blood began to boil and before he knew it he grabbed the bow in front of him and aimed his shot at the pale emperor, letting go of the arrow.

Sabina watched as a stray arrow shot into the booth, planting itself into the wood pillar, mere inches from Caracalla’s head, “PRAETORIANS!” Geta yelled for his guard who swarmed into the booth.

The girl looked towards the center of the ring and saw the gladiator throwing the bow back down before giving her a nod and returning to fighting.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

After sneaking out of the panicked crowd Sabina made her way to the holding cells. She entered and made it to stand in front of Ravi, “May you?” she gestured to the locked cell which contained her gladiator

The older man gave her a sly smile, “To what does he owe your company.” He got up and maneuvered his keys to the correct one and pushed it into the hole on the door.

Sabina only blushed and gave him a curt nod after he had opened the door for her. Lucius sat at his desk, back to her. She didn't say anything until she heard the door lock being her. 

“Marvelous job today, almost assassinating the emperor was by far the best part.” she joked and put her hands on his shoulders before moving them to his chest making him lean his toned back into her legs.

Lucius grunted, “He should not have put his hands on you in the matter in which he did.” He turned his head to face her looking at the red mark that only had seemed to get worse. 

“All is well, it'll fade.” Sabina moved around him to place herself in his lap, “Should I call you Hanno or Lucius?”

The gladiator let out an airy laugh rubbing his eyes. Hearing his birth given name come from her lips felt right. “Let's try Lucius out, hm?” Suddenly without warning he swung Sabina’s leg over his lap and had her straddling him.

The girl softly gasped, holding his shoulders for support. “Eager are we?” she joked, lightly grinding on his hardening cock.

“You looked like a goddess sitting up there. I could hardly contain myself.” he gritted his teeth and pulled her closer to him by her waist. “What do you want my beautiful girl?”

Sabina softly gasped, “Your mouth, fingers, anything please.”

Lucius chuckled, “How about both.” He lifted her up with ease onto the desk and spread her legs open before him revealing her bare cunt, dripping with arousal. “You came bare?” he darkly asked, swiping his fingers over the wet mess.

“Unneeded layers.” she answered with hooded eyes, arms propped up behind her to see what intend to do.

The gladiator hummed and lowered his lips to pamper kisses along her thigh, making her let out a soft groan. “Who do you belong to Sabina? Say it.”

“You Lucius, only you.” she groaned, letting her head roll back.

His lips continued their fiery trail up to her cunt, bringing his fingers to toy with her entrance. Her clit swollen and thumming with need. He pushed one finger slowly in and began to pump it while he took her bud into his mouth softly sucking it. Sabina’s fingers made their way to his head where she gripped his hair for dear life. Arousal gushed out of her, dripping from his finger to his wrist before falling onto the desk under her. “Ready for another?” he questioned in a teasing tone.

She covered her mouth and nodded, not trusting herself to stay quiet with the way he was playing with her. Lucius added another finger curling them into her and attaching his mouth to her puffy clit, savoring the flavor. She tried closing her legs at the overwhelming pressure building up but his strong rough arms held them agaisnt the wood.

Just as she was about to let go he pulled away with a smirk, “As i've said..” he trailed off and stood getting his hard cock from under his loincloth giving it a few pumps, “You shall only come on my cock.” Grabbing her thighs he pulled her to the edge of the desk and lined up with her entrance and pushed in with one single thrust, covering Sabinas mouth simultaneously. Her legs wrapped around his middle while his other hand went to her neck adding pressure to it.

She moaned agaisnt his hand, nails raking down his musical arms, trailing the veins that lined them lie threads, “You like being fucked like a whore? My personal whore who congratulates me after a fight…” He looked down where he thrusted in and out of her and watched her juiced coat his pubic area. “Want to cum?” she nodded feverishly, eyes locked onto him.

He let go of her neck and rubbed her clit with his thumb, "Cum on my cock beautiful, you can do it.” she squeezed him with vice grip making him spill deep into her. He took a moment to catch his breath before pulling out of her with a wince. 

Sabina held the hand he had over her mouth, kissing it before he pulled it back. “You continue to surprise me with your skills.” she said breathlessly sitting up.

Lucius smiled and stepped between her legs, cradling her face. “When I find myself to be free of this place…I'd like you to run with me. Anywhere you'd like.” 

Her jaw dropped a little before regaining her composure, “My whole life is planted in Rome. To leave would be betraying my family. I cannot leave my father and Lucilla to fend for themselves.” she watched this disappointment flood his face.

He nodded, “I understand.”

Suddenly Ravi came to the cell door and hit it lightly with the key, “Something has happened Sabina you need to go now!” he whispered harshly.

The pair shared a look before she stood and walked out of the cell, watching as Ravi locked Lucius back in. “The plan?” 

Ravi gave her a grave look, “Your father and his men were blitz attacked. He was caught…Lucilla as well from what the whispers have said.” 

Sabina gasped and the gladiator behind the cell door gripped the bars, “What does that mean, what are you both whispering of?”

She rushed to the door and wrapped her hands around his, “I'm afraid something horrible has occurred I have to go.” she kissed him before rushing out of the chamber, pulling her hood up.

Lucius watched as she ran before turning to Ravi with a questioning gaze.

The doctor kept his head down, “I suggest you sleep Lucius. You will need it for what the morning brings.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

part 3?

Reblog and Like ♡

also just saw the movie for a 3rd time…

[poetryvampire]

✨️trop men and if they could get you off based mostly on vibes ✨️

💕Now to level the playing field let's give a simple y/n on if they could get the job done during your first time together and the overall mood of the evening. Mildly nsfw (I'm not gonna get too detailed...unless 👀)

Adar💀 Yes. Woof, not to get too crass right off the bat but daddy is the name he earned so yes absolutely. Also brace yourself it will be kinkier than you think and it will awaken something in you. And it would start off painfully slow just easing you into it lightly. Seems like a great opportunity to try things you've been curious about but beware you're getting into like five kinks that haven't even crossed you mind before. One minute you're having a romantic candle lit dinner then Bam youre wearing a chain collar with his name on it.

Elrond 😇 Oh, god bless. No. Baby I'm sorry but no. That being said it would still be a great time with really positive vibes. But Elrond would get too in his own head thinking about options and the best 'plan of attack' to actually deliver. Plus he would play it super safe not wanting to off put you in anyway and thus would kill the passion a bit. Still would be the biggest sweetheart and over all give you a fun time. (Give him time to build his confidence though lotr Elrond Fucks for sure)

Halbrand 🐶 LISTEN Listen listen...No. Hear me out. I just-I feel it in my blood that this guy will rizz you so hard and talk such a big game and than when he time comes it's just ok at best. Like he's made at least one person come before and thinks he has cracked the code. Still his heart's (seemingly) in the right place and its pretty romantic over all. Lots and lots of cuddling.

Annatar 🐱 Yes. And it's amazing but the vibes are terrible. He gets way too intense too fast. He's the kind of guy to say some really weird shit during. Like not even anything dirty just waxing poetic about how you're part of each now and the bond of your bodies is inescapable even in death. And he waaay into talking about how you belong to him now and you're just like?? Is he just talking crazy in the heat of the moment or ?? Also no aftercare and he's 100% gone when you wake up.

Arondir 🏹 Yes. And it's Good but not as romantic as you were hoping. He's into you but Arondir def doesn't realize what a catch he is and is surprised that you're so here for him. Also buddy's got a lot going on so he's still gonna be pretty guarded emotionally. Still he's extremely respectful and such a good kisser like he's got your head spinning and you've barely started.

Elendil 🗡 No. But he tries hard and it's a great time. He's kinda got that big puppy Halbrand thing going on but like genuine. Def more into you than you are him. Elendil will rizz you with care. Pays very close attention to what you like/want. Even if it doesnt happen he's fine with talking about it, even makes a few light jokes at his expense. He's terribly good at putting you at ease. By the end of the night you're more smitten than you first thought.

Celebrimbor 💍 Yes. Are you kidding me?We're talking mastery, we're talking attentiveness, we're talking about a very smitten old man that's going to court you with his whole heart. The vibes are impeccable and he's going to make it known that taking care of you is his top priority. Additionally I can't explain why but you know this man's head game is god tier.

Gil Galad 🏵 Yes. Don't even get me started on how this man is gonna rock your world. The high king is a big guy so it's go big or go home when it comes to love and affection. He doesn't allow himself to pursue romance often but when he does he goes hard. In terms of the act itself and the amount of extravagance and detail he'd put into wooing you. Plus cmon you know he's stressed and pent up as hell. Brace yourself for being be absolutely worshipped All night. You're in for a wicked case of jelly legs and you're not going anywhere.

[lavenderspence]

silly poker night reveals | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | Word Count: 1.8K

Content warning: basically just funny, or crack, alcohol mention, gambling addiction mention

Summary: A poker night with the silly crime men gets disrupted when a certain someone decides to prove he's not a psychic.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Patrick Jane, Richard Castle, Seeley Booth, Harvey Specter

A/N: One day, I just really wanted to write a fic with all my favorite silly crime men and have them be snarky to each other, and that’s what I did. This was literally written for the fun, for the vibes, for the hell of it, and then I just could not, not make it about my husband too. So, even if you’ve only watched one of the shows, give this a read, I think it's fun. enjoy🤭

and thank you to @reidsstargirl for beta reading this 🥺💕

masterlist

“You’re late.” You said after you pulled the door open. A rumpled blond was sitting in front of you - a white dress shirt, a black vest, and a gray suit jacket thrown over his shoulder. 

He flashed you a lazy smile, all teeth, “Yeah, well, when have you known me to be punctual?” He pushed past you, stepping into the apartment, with no care in the world.

His eyes ran around the room, finding it empty of any other presence, “You little minx, you lied to me.” He turned around, eyes running through your body. 

You smiled, eyes sparkling, “Yeah, well, I had to get creative if I wanted you to be on time, Jane. You have just enough time for a power nap, go enjoy the couch.” You threw his words back at him, and then waved a hand around, gusting to the emerald couch. 

You made your way to the kitchen, picking up a half-full glass of champagne. Walking around for a second, you looked at the man on the couch and waited for the 15 minutes until 7:30 to pass, so you could welcome your other guests too. 

You were waiting on Aaron and Spencer - they were coming straight from work, deciding to stay around an extra hour after you to finish up. Harvey was flying in from New York, Castle was driving down, and Jane was already snoring on your couch, and Booth was coming after closing a case. 

You arranged these poker games once every two months, depending on how all your schedules aligned. You’d worked with all of these silly assholes at one point in your life. Sometimes, they needed some time to just goof around and play some games, nothing serious. 

A few other of your colleagues joined occasionally - Rossi and Morgan loved the snark, and Emily was a fan of disturbing the testosterone with you from time to time. But all of them were busy, so it was just you and the usuals tonight. 

12 minutes later, you were welcoming everyone in, and Jane was rousing from his nap, looking even more rumpled than before. 

Spencer and Booth took their usual places in front of the TV, where you’d already queued a baseball game, and left them some snacks. The others each took a place at the table. 

You usually played just one game, so you took your place as the dealer and shuffled the cards. 

The conversation was sparse for a few minutes while you dealt the cards. 

“Why’s Clark Kent not playing?” Rick asked all of a sudden, gusting to Booth with his head. Booth usually joined the gathering every few games, still not entirely comfortable coming every time. His addiction wasn’t something that you’d brought up or were looking to bring up during a night like this. He usually stayed away from the table, engrossed in a game of baseball on tv, or bothering Reid for any useless facts and calling him a squint. 

“Let him be Rick, he needs the night out even if he isn’t playing.” Your answer was vague and it would stay that way as long as Booth wanted to be there and stay away from the game. 

“And the kid?” It was Jane’s voice, and he raised a hand and pointed at Spencer. He was usually sitting the games out too, since the last time you and Hotch had played with him he’d hustled you. 

“Go on, tell him.” You prompted Spencer, as he bookmarked the page he was reading. 

“I’m good at poker.” It wasn’t convincing and it wasn’t the truth. 

You shook your head with a laugh, “Nooo, Jane’s good at poker, Castle is good at poker. What are you good at?” You asked, your eyes meeting Aaron’s for a second. 

“I'm good at counting the cards, and banned from several casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Pahrump.” Aaron’s lips twitched, a barely there grin appearing for just a second before it disappeared again. 

“Can I borrow him for a poker night with my author buddies? Maybe even Kate? I really need a win.” Castle asked. 

“He’s not winning against Kate, Rick. She will sniff him out before he even sits at the table. Now, Ryan and Esposito, on the other hand, you can easily steal some money from.” You told him as you took a sip from your drink. 

Everyone else was having a drink - whiskey was the preferred drink at your table, Booth was having a beer and Spencer was sticking to water. 

“Anything to drink Jane?” You asked again. 

“Chamomile tea, two sugars please.” 

“You do realize this is a poker game, and not an afternoon tea with Her Majesty, right?” Harvey’s usual snark was making a comeback for the first time tonight. 

“But her Majesty’s sitting right there.” Jane's chin jutted towards Rick. It was no secret that out of every man currently in the room, Rick was probably the most pretentious one, closely followed by Harvey.

“Haha, very funny.”

“I didn't lie, did I? I highly doubt that the Ferrari parked downstairs can be bought on a government salary.” Quipped Jane.

“How do you know it's not Harvey's?”

“Because I'm not a pussy driving a bright red Ferrari around New York City, thank you very much.” Harvey threw a few chips in the center of the table. 

“Well, said Ferrari costs anywhere between 70K and 120K. A Special Agent’s salary is around 135K, and 170K a year for Supervisory Special Agents. So realistically, yeah, we can’t afford it.” Spencer shrugged, turning a page in his book, not even phased by the looks everyone was throwing at him.

“I like this kid, he’s such a squint.” Booth laughed and gave Reid’s shoulder a little pat. Spencer tensed for a second but quickly relaxed again. 

“Dammed it, I overpaid 30K for this one.” Castle scoffed, shaking his head. 

Harvey produced a business card from somewhere and slid it toward Rick. 

“In case you need it. Fair warning though, get on my nerves, and I’m giving you to Louis.”

“Aww he has a heart.” Rick pouted.

“Never repeat that, never.” The brunette warned.

“And a lot of snark.” You smiled, looking around. They all might have serious jobs during the day, but they were all extremely silly when they were off of work.

The game continued on for another 15 minutes, conversion flying by until Booth’s voice rang around you.

“Okay Jane, no offense, but I need to know. What’s your shtick? What made the FBI want to hire you as a consultant?” Seeley asked, turning a sobriety chip in his hand. 

“Ugh, offense.” 

“Oh come on,” Booth waved a hand around, “I’m one of the best sharpshooters out there,” you rolled your eyes and so did Rick, “Hotchner’s an ex-ADA, Y/N’s a weapons expert and a linguist. Reid over here is basically Einstein.” 

“Well, actually, Einstein’s IQ is believed to be somewhere between 160 and 180, and mine’s 187, so technically, I surpass Albert Einstein.” Seeley wasn’t happy being interrupted again, but he let it slide, used to being interrupted by his own team.

“So Jane, what makes you such a special asset to the FBI? You're not still pulling the psychic card, are you?” To anyone, it might seem judgmental, the way he asked, but you knew it was anything but. He was curious, but he also valued his job too much not to ask. 

Jane leaned back in his chair, laying his cards face down and his hands on top of them. He looked on over you, head to toe, and then his eyes focused on your left - to Aaron. 

You saw his eyes shine for a second, and shook your head at him, already knowing what was going to come out of his mouth. 

“There is no such thing as psychics. Just a very good eye for reading people. Like for example, all night Hotchner’s been a broody, quiet bastard, safe for any time Y/N talks. His eyes light up and he relaxes back into his chair.” You watched Aaron’s posture too tight and reached a hand under the table to lay over his leg.

You were glaring daggers in Jane's direction, but once he was on a roll, there was no stopping him. “Earlier, when she put his glass down, his fingers on the hand closest to her body, twitched. His cologne is expensive, freshly applied - he probably has a spear bottle in his office.  He's been checking his watch, waiting for the night to end, so we'd all go home. Not him though, he's staying over.”

He played with the edge of his cards as he watched all eyes turn in your direction. 

“Oh, and the murderous look he's been giving Harvey every time he catches him looking at Y/N a bit too closely. Also, the clenching of the jaw - seriously knock it off, you won't have teeth forever.” Jane warned before he leaned back into his chair, looking just a tad too proud of himself.

The silence was defeating for a few moments, no one dared to utter a word.

“I don't think they wanted that to be shared just yet.” Rick muttered

“No shit.” Aaron's fingers wrapped around your own as he gritted out.

“And I didn't want to be lied to, but alas…” Jane added, flashing you a grin.

“Oh, you petty asshole.” A grin was making its way onto your face and you didn't know why.

“Oh, I'm about to become even more of an asshole - full house.” He threw his card in the middle of the table, close to the chips.

“Awww, you really are an asshole.” Rick leaned back in his chair, defeated and pouting.

“Takes one to know one, Dicky.” He smirked.

“Are you okay with this?” You turned around and asked Aaron quietly, for a moment forgetting the room full of men you’d worked with over the years.

“I'm good, although being profiled wasn't my idea of fun for the night.” He admitted just as quietly, reaching to push your hair away.

“I'm sorry.” He went to close the space between you before you heard the scraping of chairs.

“Okay kiddos, mom and dad need us to empty the apartment. Go on, out the door.” Seeley announced. You rolled your eyes at his bullshit before you started giving goodbye hugs. 

“If Hotchner's the dad, who's the daddy?” Harvey asked jokingly as he pulled you into a hug.

“Ask Louis tomorrow.”

“I didn't need the mental picture, thank you.” He shuddered and walked towards the door with the rest.

“Don't ask dumb questions then.” You called out, before you turned towards the good Doctor, “Oh and Spence? Keep this on the down-low, would you?” You asked, still not exactly ready to share this with your team, even after having the whole thing come out this way.

He smiled sheepishly and scratched at the back of his neck, “Yeah…too late.” and just then both your and Aaron's phones went off. 

There was no question about it, there was a fun morning waiting for you tomorrow. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.4

So some of y'all are gonna not like this part but it's necessary 🤌🏻 hope it's okay I wrote it whilst bleaching/dying my hair 🤣🤣

I have also put some very rough sketches of the X-Men I did on holiday so you can get the vibes on the super suit/costume

<< Part 3 Part 5 >> Masterlist

He was gone, you waited for a moment just in case, but no, he was gone. It was okay, you'd had more time with him than you'd thought possible. The hours were a blessing.

“He isn't going to come back.” Cassandra spoke to your right. “You missed your chance.” She matched over to Pyro and slapped him awake.

You shook your head, she was right. Why were you just staring into space? You had to get a move on.

Quickly picking up Laura's discarded backpack - now full to the brim with Deadpool comics - you moved past them. Better to leave when she's distracted, if you hung on any longer she might remember you all came here to bargain with/kill her.

You looked down from the socket, drained. Using your powers was mentally taxing and, without the help of adrenaline, you didn't know if you could even make yourself a disc to descend. Instead you skidded downwards, holding the skull to climb and landed on your feet. The texture was like bricks. Was that really how a skull felt?

You swivelled to see your family. Laura sprinted as soon as her eyes landed on you, crushing you in a hug. “You stayed.”

“Of course I did.” Your arms held her tighter. “I’d have missed you all too much.”

She pulled back from the hug only to gaze into your eyes with her own glassy ones. “We couldn't see who jumped, did they make it? I thought you'd been eaten.”

“No, I'm here.” You assured her with a teary smile. "They did make it. They're gone."

She quickly burrowed back into your neck as you noticed El make her way towards you both and joined the hug. “That was intense.”

Gambit was next picking you all up as he squeezed tight. “Le’s never do tha’ again.”

Blade had hung back but Laura extended her hand to him and gestured until he held it. He wasn't one for ‘lovey dovey’ displays but he did love you all. He never thought it possible, not after he landed in the Void, but here he was. Clutching Laura's hand and thanking any deity that would listen.

“We better go.” Blade instructed. “Let's see if they got any wheels we can borrow.”

They did in fact have some wheels you could borrow. The five of you all sat in a beaten down Ghost Rider vehicle. It was an old fashioned Chevy and the boot space was perfect for the looted goods you all scrambled to swipe under Cassandra’s nose.

The drive back was strange. Obviously you were no longer in the boot with Logan but even if he was here you'd thought it was odd. You all survived.

There were no casualties.

Not that you were complaining, gosh no, but you were feeling a sense of unease. As though it had all been too easy.

Laura sat between you and Gambit, holding one hand from each of you as she dozed. Blade was driving and El sharpened her sais.

This was so ordinary. Well, your version of ordinary. But seeing actual civilization had thrown you. Because no this wasn't ordinary. This was fucking batshit.

You took a breath and tried to calm the fuck down because yes this was crazy and it wasn't what life should be but it was what it was.

You had to make peace with it.

You'd let Logan and Wade leap into a real life.

If they came back good. If they didn't… well, you were fine with it.

~~

A week later, once word had gotten out that Cassandra Nova had left, the Void seemed calmer. There were less riots - still a large amount - and people seemed to go it alone more. There wasn't the threat of ‘join or die’ so people made peace with scavenging and surviving.

Your group had still tried to help if people needed it but you mostly stayed out of sight. Without a ‘big bad’ to fight there was no longer an ultimate goal which was good but at the same time it made life boring.

You were playing a game of Uno, having found it in a rotting classroom, when an orange rectangle opened behind you. The others were quick to draw their weapons and you craned your neck to see a woman step out.

She had an air of authority with a kind face.

“Y/N L/N, Laura Kinney, Remy Lebeau, Eric Brooks, Elektra Natchios, I am B-15.” She informed you with a pleasant smile. The fact that her name was a letter and a number wasn't lost on you but you were still reeling over the fact that you're fairly sure Blade was called Eric. “I oversee the TVA and we are here on business.”

“TVA?” Gambit raised an eyebrow, lowering his powered up deck.

“The Time Variant Authority. We are the overseers of timelines. Our job is to watch them, nurture them, keep them safe.”

Elektra straightened but didn't hide her weapons. “If you 'oversee our timelines', why are we here?” Her tone was accusatory.

B-15 looked a little embarrassed. “One of our managers, Paradox, had accelerated the time frame on your dying timelines. He is the reason you are here. I am sorry for that but I am here to make amends, we have been in discussions with Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett about your recovery.”

Well, fuck me, he was coming back. You'd practically lost hope after the third day.

“Dying timelines?” Elektra's eyes flickered to Gambit. She knew he didn't remember a time before being here like the rest of you did.

“Timelines, like many organic things do, decay and die. Sometimes it is natural, sometimes it is fabricated and sometimes their 'Anchor Being' dies and they slowly rot.”

“But our timelines, our universes, are dead?” Blade questioned.

“Yes. But we can house you in another. We need to go through the proper paperwork and screenings but I do believe you can all be happy there.”

“People we knew-” You started. “Our friends- I've seen multiple versions of the same person. Our friends won't know us?”

“I can safely say in this universe there is no version of each of you. You would be entering as yourself and, yes, you will have to create friendships and relationships again but I'm sure each of you is up to the task.”

The feeling that this was too good to be true crept up your spine again. “What's the catch?”

“There isn't a catch.” She clasped her hands. “You don't have to come, it's an offer but I won't ask twice.”

The room that had previously been full of laughter and frustrated yelling was now dead silent, each of you considering her words.

“Do you want to go?” You asked Laura.

Her face betrayed no emotions. “I will if you want to.”

“It might be very different then this, then what you grew up with. You might not like it.” You didn't want to steer her any way but you wanted her to be sure.

“As long as we're together.” Her eyes flashed around the table.

El nodded. “I'm game.”

“Are there blood suckers in that world?” Blade asked B-15.

“There are Vampires, yes. There are also a few Lycans.”

That baffled you. No fucking way was there Vampires. “Then I'm ready to kick some Vamp ass.”

“I dunno.” Gambit shook his head. “I feel like I wa’ born ‘ere. Wha’ if there no room for me there?”

“Of course there's room.” El placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don't stay here, this place is horrid.”

He gave an uneasy look but did eventually nod.

“Right.” B-15 smiled. “Let's go.”

She gave you five minutes to collect your things and meet her at the rectangle. It was a little sad to realise five years worth of memories could be boiled down to a water bottle, Uno cards, a few knives, some art you and the girls created and your photo of you and your husband.

There was no point taking your clothes, they were tattered and stained, you weren't even sure the super suit you currently had on was clean enough for the 'new universe'.

B-15 walked through the portal when you all agreed it was time and Blade followed. Laura and you were next and finally El led Gambit.

You were struck by nostalgia. Walking through from a hot country to an airconned airport slapped you in the face. Memories of your honeymoon dancing across your mind. Was this wrong?

Was being with him insulting his memory?

You scanned the room. It was a tacky beige corridor with a set of brown doors, each door had a friendly face waiting with a clipboard.

“Right, so this is the boring part.” B-15 tried to joke. “I will need you all to partner up and answer some questions.”

“Wait’re minute.” Gambit ceased Elektra’s movements. “Wha’ if they kill us?”

“We won't kill you.” B-15 made a face.

“You are separating us.” El folded her arms.

B-15 sighed and plastered the professional smile back on. “If we wanted you dead we would've left you in the Void. This is part of the process, unfortunately it involves asking a lot of questions and to save time we thought to free up some extra agents, who are all very busy, mind you.”

Laura was the first to move, she gave a curt nod, pulled her backpack tighter against her spine and strode right to the end of the corridor. The lady she met was small and unassuming but she greeted Laura with a friendly hello.

You were next, always following after her, and found yourself beside a man. He was tall and waved awkwardly.

The man led you into what was clearly an interrogation room. There was a definitely double sided mirror on the wall reflecting the dark oak table and chairs that sat directly in the centre.

“Right,” the man said, taking a seat. “I am here to fill you in on this universe and fill out this questionnaire to determine whether or not you are fit to join it.”

You eyed his clipboard. “How long will this take?”

“Time works differently in the TVA.” He shrugged and began the explanation, which felt as though it lasted three whole days.

This universe was much the same as yours except the X-Men hadn't picked you up. There was a Jean and a Charles and a Rogue, etc however their version of Logan died which was beginning to kill off the timeline. Paradox had offered Wade the opportunity to hop over and he learnt the truth causing everything that had happened to happen. In order to secure all five of your places the TVA had to create some ‘micro-adjustments’ to certain parts of this universe. This was completely new territory so it did take some time to set up events and try to create anchor spots.

The X-Men were formed however they were now operational in the year 2024 and they worked side by side with the Avengers. There were many names and many dates and many places that Y-23 told you and you could barely catch up.

“So there's Avengers and Guardians and X-Men and there's still villains? Isn't it overkill?” You finished your lemonade, placing the plastic cup on the table by your messy notepad. You'd created a mini conspiracy board, trying to piece together all the information he was throwing at you.

“There are more heroes than you could ever imagine but that just brings the threat of violence higher.” He shrugged.

“And B-15 said that there were Vampires and Lycans.”

“In a world full of Mutants are you really surprised?”

“But a mutation is different from a species of Vampire, no?”

Y-23 thought about it but shook his head. “No it isn't. It's simple evolution.”

This was starting to feel like a Charles Xavier lecture.

“This universe isn't a part of what was once called the Sacred Timeline, this is a wild, thriving, new and exciting thing. This has never been done before.” He tried to reassure you.

"Meaning it's an experiment.” You muttered. “I'm game for it, I'm just scared.”

“Well, you have answered all of my questions swimmingly.” He gave you two thumbs up.

“You haven't asked any questions.”

“The questions are more for me than for you.”

This was starting to feel like a really bad idea. “I'm confused.”

“Don't be, the next step is wardrobe. Can't have you going to a new universe in…" He looked you up and down. "..that.”

~~

You stepped out of the tailors with a spring in your step. They had provided actual clothes but being in a brand new suit was bliss. They'd even provided weapons! The suit was beautiful. It was mainly purple, with a purple ‘x’ on your chest on top of black fabric. The black fabric was angular, causing a triangle shape underneath the ‘x’ and then carrying on down from your armpits to your ankles. The purple was on the front and the back connecting from your chest via the ‘x’ to your shoulders. Your spine had a delicately placed holster for two knives.

This was quite possibly the most powerful you had felt, despite being unable to actually conjure your forcefields. Y-23 had told you there was no magic in the TVA and that got you both into a large debate on whether or not you had magic. You were a mutant, you weren't magic! Gambit toed the line between mutant and magic better than anyone so you wondered how he was doing.

El and Blade were in the main room you were being led to. The room consisted of more brown furniture - desks and chairs - but had many old-school TVs on the far wall. Each screen held either a series of lines or a person. You were quick to zero in on Iron-Man, his iconic suit was blasting at several enemies. He was one of the biggest heroes in your world and the most recognised. You literally couldn't imagine Tony in another suit, another mask. He wouldn't look right even in a different colour, say green for example.

“That's Punisher.” El pointed to a gruff man, with a dusty white skull on his chest. He was mean looking but you had the feeling he was probably good as gold when needed.

“Whistler.” Blade nodded to another gruff man. He was older and definitely played by his own rules.

You watched the row of moving heroes. “So we have to just drop in and say hi, we know you in another universe?”

“H-1 told me I would say what I wanted.” El gave you a confused shrug. “that doesn't exactly clarify anything, what if I tell Matt and Frank and they don't- what if that means they don't want anything to do with me?”

“Precisely.” Blade agreed as Gambit walked into the room. “I will need Whistler's help. I can't fuck that up.”

“A’least I can' destroy wha’ weren't there.” Gambit smugly grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We all look ‘mazing by’t’way.”

Yes. You all did. Blade was wearing all black. A protective vest on top of a long sleeve and leather trousers. His outfit was swallowed by his leather coat. Weapons were under and over the coat, you could see all sorts of knives and daggers and even a crucifix dangled from his belt. He had a new pair of sunglasses, which he seemed very pleased about.

Elektra was wearing a bright red outfit, you assumed her Void outfit started off as this colour but she stained it to be safer. Her chest was now unexposed and she had gloves on. Her trousers were still there but on top she had an overlaying split skirt. The material was softer than the bodysuit, it matched the scarf which covered the lower part of her face.

Gambit looked much the same. His outfit was perfect. The only thing different about this one was there were no knicks and dents. He also wielded a staff.

Laura was yet to show her face. Something that didn't worry you but didn't not worry you.

“So where are we living?” You questioned. “I used to live in the X-Mansion but Y-23 said Charles was around but he now operates in 2024. So in my head he must be very different.”

“It seems like that's true for all our friends.” Blade’s eyes hadn't left the screens.

Gambit strode to the screens and gazed intently at each person. “Surely, they couldn' be too different. If it's the same person an’all.”

“Different circumstances, different upbringings.” El countered.

“That's Magneto.” You pointed to Erik. He was talking to Charles, drinking a cup of tea. It was infuriating because they were this civilised as enemies so you couldn't even tell if they were friends. “He was a concentration camp survivor. If he's about now, did that happen? Is he evil?”

“He looks pretty friendly with Charles.” Elektra cocked her head.

“They always were.” You huffed. “This will be really difficult won't it?”

Blade’s head swivelled in your direction. “Adjusting always is.”

Fuck how was he just effortless cool?

The door reopened, B-15 and Laura came through. She was gorgeous. They had dressed her in a yellow suit, with black trim much like yours. The suit had gloves and shoes which had special slots for her claws. But the icing on the cake was her cowl. She wore the famous Wolverine cowl and she looked glorious.

“Woah!” Gambit cheered. “You look li’ him!”

She did. She really looked like Logan.

“You look amazing, sweetie.” El grinned wide as Laura held one elbow in embarrassment.

“Thank you.” She wore a shy smile.

Blade clapped her back and couldn't help but nod.

“I can't believe it. You really- you look like- you look good.” You stuttered through the sentence.

She, thankfully, waved you off and turned to the screens. “Who are they?”

“Heroes in the 'new universe'.” Blade smirked. “They'll need our help.”

B-15 cleared her throat and you all looked over. She was standing in front of a freshly opened ‘timedoor’. “This is it.” She stepped to the right. “Through here is a collection of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. They will greet and assess you.”

Oh great, more assessment.

Laura, again, was the first of you to make a move. She confidently marched through the door, ready for this to be over with.

El was next, followed by Gambit, Blade and finally you.

You entered a white room. It was grand and outlandishly ‘modern’ - sparse. There were walls that were made entirely by window planes and the sunlight shone warmly. There was a silver, angular table and six beings were seated at it.

These were the ‘illuminati’. Y-23 had explained that a member of each super team created the illuminati, an omnipotent organisation. They controlled the world.

Iron-Man was there, creasing a ridiculously expensive suit, as well as Doctor Strange - the Sorcerer Supreme - Mr Fantastic - the smartest man alive - Namor - the King of Atlantis - Blackbolt - the Ruler of Attilan - and… oh my god. That was Charles!

The negotiation wasn't long. Charles took a look into each of your minds and declared that you and B-15 were all telling the truth. Then they revealed a set of apartments that they had brought for you to settle into normality in. You were allowed to leave them once you had settled and you had to come back every month for therapy "monitoring".

Stark handed you all a bank card and told you there was a limit to them. They also informed you that if you were needed to defend Earth they would call upon you.

Blade was under extra surveillance as he was a Daywalker. Reed had been able to recreate Whistler's serum to suppress the bloodlust but they were still taking precautions.

Doctor Strange placed a spell on each of you to track your whereabouts but other than that they let you go.

“The idiots are outside.” Stark used a thumb to point over his shoulder. Blackbolt smiled, his shoulders shaking in a silent chuckle.

“They haven't stopped pestering.” Namor rolled his eyes. “You must be integral.”

“We are just ourselves. We were cursed to live in that Void for years, for no apparent reason other than a cocky bastard's ego.” Elektra held her head high, watching the men she addressed like a hawk.

Charles adjusted his chair and gave you a sincere grin. “You may venture out, we do hope you find solace here.”

.

Part 5

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@geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @melissa-ashe @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @ravenmedows @vulgarfuckinvirgo77

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The sketches, be kind pls

[lowkeychenle]

labyrinth [ZCL]

Description: Chenle was more complex than you originally gave him credit for, and unfortunately for you, that would be your downfall. Lost in the labyrinth, you’ll always struggle to find your way out when the rose-colored glasses don’t let the light shine through.

Genre: Angst/Fluff (non-idol!au)

Content Warnings: Situationship vibes (rip), reader is upsetti spaghetti; (I took the smut out sorry there's no smut in here, but some of it is still suggestive); break ups; sad feelings; whatever occurs during sad times in one's life idk

Word Count: 6,553

Taglist: @peterm4rker @carelessshootanonymous-blog @zhonglele02 @bunnychui

Permanent Taglist: @sunnybutcloudy @neozon3nha @waffleuvs

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!reader (featuring random Dream members & Giselle & Ningning from aespa)

A/N: Surprise!!! Sorry it's been so long and sorry that this probably sucks butttttttt it was good to write so whatever.

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

You met Chenle by chance one day. Frankly, you hadn’t expected much out of him in any aspect—he was simply another guy, a thought that typically sent a shiver of disgust down your spine. Boys will be boys, men will be men, and all’s well that ends well.

But he was more complex than you originally gave him credit for, and unfortunately for you, that was going to be your downfall. Lost in the labyrinth, you’ll always struggle to find your way out when the rose-colored glasses don’t let the light shine through.

He’s like a puppy. You decided that the second you saw him. He greeted you with the world’s biggest smile, hugged you, and walked you into the cafe he picked to meet at. You were skeptical at first—it’d been a very long time since you’d felt comfortable enough with a man to allow any sort of physical contact.

You’re not sure how he snuck into your life, but just days after you met him over coffee, you went out with him to a bar—along with two of your friends. He laughed and smiled with your friends. When Ningning and Giselle got up to go dance, you stayed back in the booth with him because you wouldn’t dare move that warm, daring hand on your thigh.

Everyone went back to your apartment, and you fell asleep on his shoulder. Chenle didn’t leave until well past one in the morning, after the girls had fallen asleep. He texted you when he got home safely as you requested, but you were out like a light within the fifteen minutes it took for him to get there.

The next morning, he met you and your friends for breakfast. Then, two days later, he came over to your apartment again to watch a movie with you. He kissed you, and it felt like everything fell into place. Like this is exactly where you were supposed to be and exactly who you were supposed to be with.

But he warned you—loud and clear, and you never once took heed of those warnings.

What goes up must come down.

And what goes up quickly can’t ever last.

As the ending credits roll, you feel a nervous twinge deep in your gut. You’d been politely informed by your friends what tonight meant—that Chenle would kiss you. After everything, you were hoping for it, but you didn’t want to think too much about it.

You two watched a dumb movie, and spent the majority of the time making fun of it instead of actually attempting to enjoy it. You wouldn’t have it any other way. He made you comfortable, and you knew that, in and of itself, was a dangerous game.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and if you try hard enough, you swear you hear his heart thumping. Boldness hasn’t ever been your forte, but damn it, something about him felt right. In a brief moment of courage, as the screen fades to black, you turn over to face him. Your breath catches in your throat, and his eyes dance along your face before settling on your lips.

“That movie was awful,” you whisper.

He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s what you wanna talk about right now?”

Contrary to your previous movements, you timidly shake your head.

God, it feels like time freezes. The only light comes from the candle flickering a few feet away, and the orange dancing across his skin entrances you. You gulp as he reaches up to cup the back of your neck. The brown in his eyes is intoxicating, and as they close, you’re already leaning forward subconsciously.

The first brush is tentative, gentle. All of it is perfect. He’s perfect, you’re sure. You lean into him, and his palm finds the small of your back. He rolls until he’s on top of you, and you inhale sharply when his lips move down to your neck.

For some reason, you can’t stop staring at the goddamn box of popcorn sitting on your counter. By now, you figured you’d be fine, but one glance at that stupid fucking box has you crashing back to square one. If it were acceptable, you’d throw the box into the pits of hell. Honestly, you think about asking him to come get it.

He asked you for your favorite brand of popcorn, and you’d said that it was the blue box—to which he googled it and asked you which one it was. So, yeah, he knows your favorite popcorn, and you can’t help but wonder how many things remind him of you. If he gets lost in a labyrinth similar to the one in your mind.

Your friends took a liking to Chenle. It made you so much more confident in the choice to get to know him—he fit into the group with ease. Ningning, Giselle, and Mark had initiated something called a ‘family FaceTime’ where you all had to call each other once a week. You and Chenle both laughed at them, agreeing that there was no way anyone would actually enforce it.

Chenle had taken you out to dinner, so of course, you had to dress up. You put a nice skirt on, did your makeup, and had a great evening. After the group call, you changed into a pair of pajama pants and took off your makeup. Being this comfortable with someone who’d you met a total of three times in person shouldn’t be real, but he made it easy. That much you knew.

Bracing your palms on his chest as you straddle his lap, you narrow your eyes at him. “I wore a skirt today.”

“Yeah, you did.” He sends a sheepish smile your way.

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah,” he replies, hands falling onto your thighs.

“Huh, that’s crazy. You didn’t tell me that.” You purse your lips to hold back your laughter, and he runs his tongue over his teeth.

“Oh, come on.” He flips you over and hovers over you, both of you engulfed in laughter.

“What about my pants?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

He grasps at the fabric against your thighs, studying it. “What’s on them? Trees?”

“Pine trees. Christmas themed.”

He giggles again. “Yeah, I like them. Sexy.”

“Great, so you think the pants are sexy but not the skirt—”

“Dude,” he grumbles, poking your side to tickle you. “You’re not making this easy for me.”

He leans closer, but just before his lips find yours, you shake your head.

“Never said I would.”

“Good.” He breaks the last of the distance and kisses you hard, hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

You swear every time you look over when you’re trying to fall asleep, you expect to see him next to you in bed. Like the ending was all some wild, inexplicable dream you could brush under the rug. Turning to the side, you play with the blanket he used to lay beneath.

He only stayed over a couple times, but each night felt like it cemented him further in your entire being. It doesn’t matter anyway—it doesn’t matter that you can still feel his lips on yours. It doesn’t matter that you stayed up until the middle of the night talking to him every day for weeks and weeks. And it sure as hell doesn’t matter how hard you fell for him.

At the end of the day, he made the choice to leave, and it wasn’t something you were going to contest. How could you? He told you what he wanted. Your only option was to accept it.

You’ve gone radio silent on everyone, trying your best to survive in the chaos of your mind. Gi reaches out to you to make sure you’re okay, but you lie. Your relationship with Chenle was barely that, to be frank, but in all the relationships you’d been in, in all the people you’ve bonded with, nothing had ever felt as real as Chenle. Nobody had clicked so effortlessly.

You brace your palms against the counter and allow your eyes to flutter shut.

Candlelight.

Fluorescents.

His gentle voice in your ear, whispering just the right things to send you into a spiral of feelings.

Silence.

Feelings you tried so hard to avoid, but you let yourself freefall into them anyway.

Destruction. Dramatic, maybe, but you can’t shake the overwhelming negativity surrounding you.

Conversations that never truly ended, texts all day, calls at night.

Only one notification pops up on your screen, but it’s not him. It doesn’t matter who it is at this point, nobody will ever be him.

One completely silent day makes worry swarm your heart.

Foolish naivety, obviously.

He shows up at your door, but your smile drops the second you see the look on his face.

It’s over.

Your eyes well, but you refuse to let them fall. You’re better than this, truly. You let him back in once, and that was enough. Time to send him packing, never to think of him again…right?

How do you detach yourself from someone who meant so much?

Don’t do it. You told yourself that over and over again as you walked down the street with Ningning to get to another bar. Logically, you were drunk. Any choice you made at this point could be explained as that.

“What’s up?” Ningning asked. “You’re staring at your phone screen like it attacked you or something.”

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing.” You cleared your throat and put the device back in your pocket.

“Is this about Chenle?”

“I just…don’t know why I care about him so much. I mean, losing your job is a big deal. I don’t think he has anyone to take care of him or to make sure he’s alright.”

“And you want to be that person?” She quirked an eyebrow at you.

“No,” you state firmly. “Maybe. I don’t know. I really just want to know how he’s doing.”

“Okay, call him.” Ningning stopped and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What?”

“If you want to talk to him and make sure he’s alright, then call him. The worst thing that’ll happen is that he doesn’t answer, and then you’ll know it’s none of your business.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, turning to face away from her as you pulled your phone back out. Clicking on his contact name, you waited, heart thundering, as the dial tone started. It shouldn’t have surprised you that it went to voicemail.

That’s your answer.

Why does it hurt so fucking badly?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the memories. If only it’d been left at that. If only he’d been the terrible person your friends said he was. But you knew him. You knew him on a level that no one else ever has, and that’s what ended it.

You scroll through endless videos on your phone as the TV plays in the background. Any mind-numbing activity that could eradicate him from your mind at that moment. But everything reminds you of him. From the screen you’re watching to the keychain he got you to the sheets on your bed, he’s absolutely everywhere, but somehow…nowhere.

Something changes at that moment. It’s like the atmosphere completely flips. You take a deep breath, frown, blink a few times, and rest your hands in your lap. You don’t need him. You never did. Where he once was, someone better will take his place.

A wave of calmness tugs at your soul, and with that, you decide it’s time for bed.

As you make it back to the bar, you get a text.

Chenle: hey i just saw your call

Chenle: i’m at a movie with one of my friends, he just lost his job too

Chenle: i’ll be here until 11:30, so i can call you around 12 if you still wanna talk?

You stare at your phone in shock. Not only did he have a valid excuse for missing your call, but he texted you back. He wants to talk to you, too. Your heart soars, but you try to keep yourself put together. It’s 11:15 now, so if you want to make it home by 12, you’d have to leave now.

You don’t tell your friends why, but you tell them you need to go home. Ningning calls you an Uber, and then you’re on your way. You anxiously await the call the whole time you’re on the way home. The night around you twinkles innocently, and you can’t help but wonder if this is the right thing to do. You get home, get in bed, and wait.

The call goes much better than you thought it would. Hearing his voice somehow soothes all the hurt you’ve felt in the less-than-two weeks without him. You feel like you can breathe again.

He tells you how he’s doing. That he’s definitely seen better days, but losing his job on top of his family’s issues, you fear for his sanity. An overwhelming urge to take care of him bubbles up, but you know you can’t force it.

You talk on the phone for an hour. An entire hour, until one in the morning, when he says he has to go. In an attempt to hide your disappointment, you agree. And from there, you’re not sure where you stand. Was that the last time you’ll ever talk to him? Will you ever see him again?

Did it matter?

But you couldn’t leave it there. Not when you knew he was struggling. So the next day, you asked him if he wanted to go for a drive with you. He agreed.

Two hours later, you end up back at your apartment, him in your passenger seat. You look at him, the gentleness of his face outlined by the blue light off of your car stereo. Truthfully, you weren’t ready to let him go. He was right there with you, but he was so fucking far away.

“Thank you for this,” he murmurs. “I needed it.”

“Of course,” you reply. “I meant it when I told you that I would be here for you.”

Silence befalls the car, and without even thinking, you turn it off.

“Did you want to come inside?” you ask.

“Is…Is that okay with you?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t.”

He follows you inside. There’s something about him that makes you feel so…inexplicably safe. He’s been in your apartment countless occasions by now, what makes tonight any different?

You end up with a laptop between you two, a random show playing as both of you relax in each others’ company. He makes his normal commentary, and you feel that spark of hope return.

There’s more than enough space between the two of you. You’re not even touching.

The credits roll, and he sits up. Glancing over at you, he gives you a small smile. “I should probably head out.”

“Right.” You watch as he gathers his keys. Your heart pounds in your chest. You’re not ready to watch him walk out. What if this is the last time you ever see him?

Instead of the words you can’t muster up at the moment, you hold your palm out to him. He stops, frowning.

“What?”

You stay quiet.

“What are you doing?” he repeats.

“Figure it out,” you say, gulping.

He grabs your hand, squeezing it gently. Time stops, and you meet his gaze once more. Whatever the two of you have is so real, it’s palpable. He’s like a fucking magnet, and you’re much too close to fight it.

“Can we just…have a few minutes?” you whisper.

Emotion flashes across his face quickly before it disappears. “Yeah.”

He climbs back into your bed, and without a second thought, you shuffle as close to him as you can. His heart beats harshly in his chest, and his arms wrap around you tightly.

You fall asleep like that.

Your friends tell you that you’ll find someone better. That someone else will love you like you deserve. But at the end of the day, you know that. Ending up alone, or thoughts of that, is not the problem for you. You don’t want anyone else. You want him. You want the sound of his laugh and the warmth of his arms and the safety of his company.

But hey, you’ve stopped crying every day, so there’s that…right?

Three months after he came back, he left again. Maybe that’s the issue. Maybe you shouldn’t have attempted to bring someone back into your life that was adamant about leaving the first time. Communication is key, and as time went on, his deteriorated to nothing, but that may be because you ignored everything he told you at the beginning.

The wind gently brushes against your skin, the warmth of the sun sinking into your skin as you walk down the street. It’s been almost a month now since the last time you talked to him. It’s freeing…but so many things happen around you that make you want to tell him all about everything you’ve been doing.

All the good things you were working for when you were with him happened, and he didn’t have the courage or strength or care enough to mention it to you. The world doesn’t tell you how hard it is to go back to being strangers with someone. It’s a magnificent plunge into the ocean, and there’s no way out. Only sinking further and further until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

You took your work to a cafe near your apartment. There were several reasons why you picked this one, but there was only one you’d never say out loud. He lives in this area, too. You clandestinely hope you’ll run into him and show him how well you’re doing.

Funny, because you’re not doing well. But you sure as hell were acting like it.

Faking it ‘til you make it helps only so much, and then you feel the world crash down around you.

You type away at your computer, allowing yourself to zone out the rest of the world as you start your proposal draft for work. After about ten minutes, your zoning becomes a walk down memory lane.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he says firmly.

You scoff. “It’s not hard, Chenle. I’m not asking for a lot.”

“Maybe not, but I just can’t. I don’t know what else to tell you.” He pauses, and silence takes over the two of you as you feel your eyes well with tears.

“Well, it’s not my responsibility to teach you. You’re a grown up, it’s okay to learn things on your own. But if I don’t have space in your head, I’m not going to beg for it. I’ve been in that position before and I refuse to do it again.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“What do you want to do, then?” he asks.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m hurting you. Wouldn’t it be easier if I just…stopped?”

The laugh that escapes you is accidental, but it was either that or burst into tears. You won’t let him hear the latter. “I assume that’s what you want, then.”

Even as you feel your heart shatter in your chest, you steel your resolve. He’ll never know how fucking bad this hurts.

“I think we should call it.” He stops. “This isn’t fair to you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s too early. You haven’t tried absolutely everything to help him, and now it feels like you’re losing everything.

But instead of allowing the lump in your throat to take over, you take a deep breath. “You better be really fucking sure this is what you want.”

Silence.

“You don’t get to come back if you do this. You know that, right?” You silently beg whoever's listening that he takes it back. That he wants to stay and he’s just scared but he’ll realize that.

“I know.”

You have nothing to say. What’s even left? No part of you, that’s for sure. You hope he knows what he’s doing. You know you’re the only person he actually opens up to–but leave it to you to be selfless in a situation like this. To worry about him when he’s the one breaking your heart.

Through the silence, you hear his breath shake. He’s not hiding his emotion, but you still refuse.

“I’m sorry,” his voice breaks.

“Whatever.” You can’t help the strain on yours.

His apology rings over and over again in your brain, echoing. The more you dissect it, the more you hear the crack. The break. The way this hurts him the way it’s hurting you. That’s the only reason you know he’s even hurt at all.

You’re speechless. There’s nothing left for you to say, but you hope that if you stay on the phone, he’ll change his mind. A tiny hope sparks and all you want is him. You don’t want to lose him, but how are you supposed to do this?

You sit in that deep, dark quiet for another twenty minutes. The only sound is your heart bashing into your ribcage. Why isn’t he hanging up? Better yet, why aren’t you? You said it yourself—he doesn’t get to come back once he makes this decision.

Your tears stream down your face, and you’re holding in the angry sob threatening you. But that anger takes over, and you clench your fists together.

“What are we doing?” you hiss. “What do you want?”

“Yeah, I guess I should go to bed and get ready for tomorrow—”

“Whatever. Bye.”

You hang up, and immediately the world crashes down around you.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice asks.

Shaken from your memory, you quickly gaze up at whoever spoke. You rapidly blink away the tears and offer a small smile to the man in front of you. “No, not at all.”

He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t place it. He has hair dyed blond and brown eyes that study you closely. 

“Are you okay?” he inquires, sitting across from you.

You recoil. “Huh?”

“You just look kinda sad. And sadness makes me sad, so.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m Jisung.”

It immediately clicks in your brain. You almost laugh–what are the chances?

“I am sad, but I don’t think I should talk about that with you.” You hold back a chuckle.

You never met Chenle’s friends, but you’d heard about a few of them—Jisung most notably. Maybe it’s a different Jisung, but you’re almost positive that would be your luck.

“And why’s that?”

“Jisung like…Park Jisung?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Chenle’s friend?”

His confusion only grows.

“I’m (Y/N).”

The realization hits him like a brick. “Ah, I see. I can understand why that’s a little weird now. Still sad over what happened?”

“You say still like it’s been three years and not three weeks.” You tilt your head.

“I guess that’s true.” He furrows his brows. “He only mentioned what happened once but I recognize this from him. If something hurts his feelings, he tends to disappear for a while. Haven’t heard from him in a couple weeks.”

“He didn’t tell you what happened?”

“Not really. Just that it was over, and then he fell off the face of the earth. I assume it wasn’t that simple?”

“You’re his best friend. How do I know you’re not gonna tell him every word I say?”

“Haven’t heard from him. Doubt he’d listen to me if I even said I ran into you anyway. I didn’t know it was you when I approached.”

 “I’m alright.” You sigh, shrugging. “Gotta keep going through life, you know? He’s just a guy I hung out with for a while and then he decided he couldn’t do it. He’s not the first and he probably won’t be the last.”

Jisung hums, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know if it helps you at all, but it’s hitting him too. He doesn’t know how to handle emotions, so when he disappears like this, it’s something big.”

“Respectfully, I don’t care how he’s doing. He lost that privilege when he decided he wanted out.” The lie feels like a brick to the face, but you keep a straight face. You don’t stop loving someone overnight, but you won’t admit to his best friend that you loved him before you ever tell him. And you’ll never get that opportunity, so it is what it is.

“He’s my friend, so I’m gonna be a little biased. But he’s not a bad guy, (Y/N).”

“I know.” You nod. “I never once thought he was. You can be a great person and an awful partner, and he doesn’t know the first thing about relationships. His decision is a reflection of his maturity level and ability to handle conflict. Not me. Certainly not my worth. I did everything I could.”

“You think he’s a good person?”

“Of course, I do. He didn’t treat me badly. He’s just an idiot, and he’s letting something good slip away. He might realize it one day, and he might not. I’ve had to come to terms with both outcomes.”

“He did tell me you were understanding, but I didn’t really think it would apply at this point.” Jisung chuckles to himself. “He said you’re the nicest person he’s ever known.”

A smile forms on your face. “At least he knows. Not everyone would react the way I did.”

“I hope you feel better soon. You deserve better than someone who runs. And he’s not completely a lost cause, but don’t wait around for him. He has a lot of work to do on himself.”

“Thank you,” you say, sipping from your coffee. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“It was nice meeting you, (Y/N). Kinda sucks these are the circumstances, but you’ve got this.”

You try to take what he says with a grain of salt. It doesn’t matter what any third parties say if you’re not hearing it directly from the source. As Jisung walks away from you, you stare back at the report you were typing. How are you supposed to concentrate now? Chenle takes up all the brain matter you have left. So much for being over it, huh?

You had a lot to tell Ningning later. The odds of this shit happening to you is, of course, only applicable to yourself. Nobody else would have to deal with something like that. At least you recognized him before you said anything to him.

You contemplate reaching out. You really think hard about it, but to pull yourself from that, you think back to the last day you spoke to him.

You told him to come get the shit he left at your house. It was the day after your phone call, and you weren’t sure what you were feeling anymore. Things were numb, but you refused to show him, still. 

Even his knock on the door was different. You exchanged a look with Ningning, gulping to yourself as you prepared to open the door. This is the last time you’d ever see him, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this was all going to go.

Regardless, you wanted him to know you were mad. You opened the door and walked away, not even sparing him a glance. As you turned around to face him, you nearly recoiled. You couldn’t recall a time where you’d felt such a coldness radiating from him.

He immediately went to grab his things, not saying anything or looking at you. He’s playing the same game you were, yet it felt like a hot blade to the chest. Instead of allowing that to come out, you shielded it with anger. Nothing could make this any worse.

Ningning could sense the tension, glancing back and forth between the two of you without a single clue of what to do or how to react.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” you ask.

He pauses briefly, his whole body tensing. “There’s nothing left to say.”

Each word leaving his mouth is like a punch to the stomach, leaving you breathless. All you knew was that you had to get something out of him, no matter what it was. The man standing in front of you was one you didn’t recognize. Certainly not the one you spent months with. 

You turn to Ningning. “Can you step outside for a minute?’

Ningning quickly makes herself scarce, and you cross your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t stop putting his things in the bag he brought.

“Seriously?”

“What?” He drops the bag and turns to you. “What could I possibly say to make any of this better? All it’ll do is make it worse.”

“Why do you assume that? What gives you the authority to decide what makes things worse for me?”

“I have nothing left to say. Everything is on the table. What are you wanting me to talk about?”

“Anything.” Your shoulders slump. “I don’t get it.”

“I told you it’s not you. I just don’t…feel it, okay? And it wouldn’t be fair of me to string you along when I don’t feel the same way.”

“I know it’s not me.” You shake your head. “I know I’m not the problem. You’re doing this because…I don’t know. You’re lazy.”

His chest rises and he looks at the wall past you. “Yeah, I am.”

“Everyone in your life walks all over you except for me, and you’re gonna do this?”

Silence.

“It wouldn’t have taken a lot of effort to keep me around, Chenle, I don’t fucking understand—”

“It’s too late now, isn’t it?”

Your words falter in your throat. You want to agree with him, but your heart urges you not to. It squeezes in on itself, but you can’t bring yourself to say the words you so desperately want to—because he’s right. It is too late. He chose to walk away again, and you told him this would happen. You can’t break your own boundaries, your own promises to yourself.

“That’s what I thought,” he replies, scoffing. “I’m gonna go.”

He moves past you toward the door, but you block it, glaring up at him.

“Well, I hope the next time you start seeing someone else—”

“Trust me, it’ll be a long time before I do that.”

“The next time you start seeing someone else,” you pause, throwing the door open. “And you fall in love with that person, I really, truly hope they don’t do to you what you just did to me.”

He says nothing, but you swear you hear his breath hitch. He moves past you quickly, disappearing past Ningning to the parking lot. As soon as he’s out of sight, you sink to the floor.

How did it come to this?

“Yeah, Ning, it was really weird. I’d never met the dude before, and I just knew who he was like…instantly.” You hold the phone up to your ear with your shoulder as you wash your dishes.

“He didn’t know who you were?”

“He did after I told him my name.”

“Red flag number seven million,” she deadpans. “You dodged a bullet.”

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh. It’s not something you actually believe. He isn’t some dangerous weapon, and he was never intent on hurting you. He just did—not that it makes any of this any better.

“You just need to focus on yourself. Maybe choose a place to sit that’s not so central to his location—”

“I don’t need to avoid an entire city to move on.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I know you. Whatever you’re holding on to, let it go. He clearly can’t be bothered and you deserve better than what he gave you.” Ningning’s voice takes on a scolding tone, and you turn your sink off.

“I know that, okay? The problem is not me or my self-worth. I know there will be someone else out there that’ll treat me better, but he wasn’t bad the whole time. He’s not a bad person. The problem isn’t if there’s someone else, it’s that it’s not him.” You inhale deeply. It’s been so long since you verbalized the words you’ve wanted to say.

Your phone vibrates, and you frown before drying your hands to take a look at it. The name on the screen has your heart stopping completely. You even blink a few times to make sure you’re not making things up.

“Um, Ning, I’m gonna call you back.” You don’t give her time to respond before you hang up and unlock your phone.

Chenle: Can we talk?

This has to be a sick joke. Now he has more to say? That’s new.

You: about?

Chenle: I know this is out of nowhere

Chenle: It’s not fair, but I just need a few minutes. Are you busy?

Not at all. Your dishes have been gross in your sink for days, but you suddenly have lost all urges to do anything.

You: a little. do you want to meet for coffee tomorrow? i’m free after work.

Chenle: Yeah, if we could. Let’s go to our usual place at six. Thanks, (Y/N). You’re a better person than I ever could be.

And didn’t you know it.

You groan to yourself, like his message, and try to convince yourself that you have no expectations for tomorrow.

You arrive early, mostly because your anxiety won’t let you do anything else. Sitting at the table, you’ve already ordered both coffees while waiting for him to show up. Your leg bounces up and down, even though you try to appear unbothered.

The bell above the door dings once more, and you’re face to face with the man you truly thought you’d never see again. Your breath catches in your throat. He looks exactly the same, like no time has passed. Logically, it’s only been a couple of months, but you can’t help but study him.

You stare. Not because you’re not sure what to do, but because you don’t want to assume this is a friendly interaction. Bile rises in your throat as he sits across from you. You slide his cup over to him.

“Oh, thanks.” Chenle pauses. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Right.” He presses his lips together in a firm line, swirling the liquid around.

“I don’t have a whole lot of time,” you tell him. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he says. “There’s nothing that would take back what happened, and I get that. I get that it’s all over, but I…I hurt you. And I don’t think I can forgive myself for that.”

“So, what? You came here hoping I’d forgive you instead?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. You’re a good person, so I figured—”

“Right.” You chuckle. “Yeah, Chenle, I’m a good person, but that doesn’t mean I let people walk all over me. If you came here for me to forgive you, you’re in the wrong place.”

“Either way, I needed you to hear that I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what I was thinking. I made a mistake.”

“We’ve established that already.” You lean back in your chair. “I’m not mad anymore. I  wanted you to feel guilty at first. That’s why I said what I did, but honestly, I guess I’m sorry too. I don’t want that for you anymore. All I want is for you to do what is best for you, maybe try therapy to get over that weird attachment issue you have.”

“You deserved better.”

“What you don’t understand is that things were fine at the beginning. Everything was what a relationship was supposed to be, and then you pulled away. You suddenly couldn’t be reassuring or have feelings and it just is what it is.”

“I want to be better for you.”

The breath catches in your throat and you stare straight at him like he’s an alien. Those are the exact words you’ve been craving to hear from him. You’re stronger now than you’ve ever been, but something about the look on his face makes you want to believe him. After all, he’s never lied to you. He was honest every step of the way, even if it hurt in the process.

Your heart wants one thing, but your brain knows what’s going to happen. It’ll be an endless cycle, and you can’t—won’t—do that to yourself.

You reach across the table, putting your hand on top of his. “I appreciate you saying that. And like I told you before, I think you’re capable of so much more than you believe. I’ve always thought the best of you.”

“But?” His face falls.

“It hasn’t been long enough.” You ignore the tears welling in your eyes, finally unafraid to show the emotion you fought hard to keep down before. “You say that now, but it’s not something you can control…yet. You’ll have the same reaction and you’ll do the same thing over and over again, and I can’t do that to myself.”

He wets his lips, nodding slowly.

“You have a lot of work to do. And I don’t say that to be an asshole. I’ve done a lot of work on myself, too, and I’ve come a long way. You can do it too, but you can’t do it for me. You have to want to do it for yourself. If nothing else comes of this, I really just hope you heal.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. You know that, right?”

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t be here right now if I thought that was your intent.”

“(Y/N), I can be better. I promise I won’t do it again. Let me prove it to you.”

“I was too much for you. We both know that. You’re not ready to handle something like this. Something real.”

“You weren’t too much—” he says immediately, but the look on your face cuts him off.

You wipe a tear and shake your head. “It’s okay. I know I was. I was too much for you, but you weren’t enough for me. You can’t be until you’ve healed. Put in the work, and maybe one day fate aligns all over again. But that’s not right now.”

“The door’s open, then?” His voice is soft, barely audible.

“It was never closed.” You sniffle and grab your coffee cup. “I loved you, Chenle. And I truly, truly hope you get better for yourself. You deserve so much more out of this life, but I can’t be the one to make you see that.”

You don’t give him the opportunity to respond. He never loved you, and you know. You don’t need to hear him say that.

He was incapable of it. There was nothing you could have done to change what happened without sacrificing yourself, and you’d learned long ago that’s never worth it. You believe in him and his ability to change, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a participant.

You glance once over your shoulder to find him watching you.

Maybe the image of you walking away is finally what gets through to him.

[disgustingtwitches]

**MDNI**

"The closest to heaven we'll ever get"

Saw a lot of stuff about Simon helping out a s*x worker. Anyways, it reminded me of a personal experience I had so... Here I am 😃

5.5k words

*This is kind of Simon needing company and being a weirdo who needs constant validation.

Not gonna lie, it gets blasphemous at the end!

~

I always played around with the idea of being an escort. I was offered to do things while working in the strip club, but I always turned it down. I was spending every dollar I made because I could always make more, right? But when I broke up with my ex and realized I didn't have the credit or rental history to get my own place, I started panicking. The only option was to put down at least three months rent cash upfront, to even be considered. Suddenly, money was drying up at the club for me, my regulars were being whisked away by girls who would do more for less. I couldn't really get mad, it's just a part of the game really. So I knew what needed to be done.

I hit up one of my girlfriends and told her that I needed the extra cash and what I was willing to do for it. She helped me set up a website, took professional photos of me, made me business cards. The whole nine yards. Now all I had to do was wait. About a week in, I finally get my first client. It was awkward and surprisingly, both of our first times in this situation. I was sent back home in a black car and a few hundred bucks richer for just 30 minutes of my time. I felt a rush I never felt before.

As the months rolled by, the money came. Luxury was the new standard for me. Designer everything, nice dinners, even nicer dates. To my surprise a majority of my clientele were, at most, 10 years older than me, and even more surprisingly, good looking. Finance bros, guys with daddy's money, or just men who had the money to spare. They always talked about how it was more fun and less work to hire me than get a girlfriend. To get a pretty girl in their arm to parade around that wouldn't bicker and give them a hard time at the end of the night. No feelings attached, just company and good sex.

So here I am Saturday night. Instead of going out to the club like a normal woman my age in Manhattan should be doing. I am in my hotel. Waiting for a call or text from someone. Anybody. My hair in rollers, makeup half done. Just waiting. My phone lights up, a text coming in:

Hi, Gia. Was interested in spending an hour with you tonight, 11pm.

I smiled to myself. Finally, someone who reads my ad properly. Follows the instructions on what to text to me. Straight to the point.

Wonderful, just need a picture of your ID or passport.

I reply. Always a rule my girlfriend drilled into my head. Safety first. If they don't do it, then what could they be planning? Anything goes bad and all you have is a name that couldn't even be real. Any client worth your time understands your safety is a priority. So this was my way of feeling safer. A moment passes before my phone dings again.

A picture of a passport, full name and age. Along with a picture. He's cute. A little older than what I usually get but I'm not complaining. I quickly look him up, nothing out of the ordinary. Good.

Great. Thank you, Simon. I'll send an address for you to send a car at 10:20. Reach out to you then❤️

Before I start to get ready he texts,

Wear something casual.

Not an odd request. Actually most clients prefer it. Want more of a girlfriend vibe rather than an escort. I finished getting ready, helping myself to a glass of wine. Playing my usual bad bitch songs, it helped me turn into the woman I needed to be- from me to Gia.

10:25 rolls around. I get a screenshot of the Uber from him. 5 minutes out. I grab my purse and strut out of my hotel, to a nearby park. Never give your real address. Always make sure you're not being followed.

A black SUV pulls up, I slide in. Exchange pleasantries with the driver and I'm off. Headed to midtown. I share my location with a friend and how long I should be gone. My phone goes off.

Walk into the building and head to the elevators on the left. 36th floor. Apt. 4A.

I nod to myself before shooting a text of confirmation.

Got it. See you soon ;)

I pull up to the building, it's huge. Nicer than most places I've been. He must have some serious cash. I walk into the building and follow the directions he gave me. A little adrenaline rushes through me as I walk up to the door, always did when meeting someone new. I knock. He almost immediately opens the door, as if he was standing in front of it. Waiting.

Simon!

I say with a wide smile. He steps aside as I walk in, looking around. Nice place. Really nice place. Ceiling to floor windows, minimalist decor, the lovely smell of something masculine and expensive. He looks me up and down as I turn to him.

You look just like your pictures.

His voice is deep, alluring, unreadable. Sends a chill up my thighs that shoots straight to my core.

You do too.

I reply playfully. A small twitch plays at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. His face inscrutable. I shimmy off my coat before he takes it, hanging it up in a closet near the entrance. I wait for him to move. He stands, hands in his pockets, studying me. An awkward minute passes before he walks to the living room. I follow.

Really nice place you got here.

I try to make the moment more comfortable.

Hm.

He responds. He wasn't like the other men I've seen before. They are sociable, or at least try to be. I take a seat on the couch next to him, our knees barely touching.

Money's there.

He gestures to an envelope on the table. I nod, grabbing it.

Do you mind if I...?

I ask, opening it up. He nods and stands to pour himself a drink. My eyes widen. This is more than my usual rate. Much more. I'm quiet, trying not to show my shock.

Was hoping to do an overnight, if that's alright.

It was less of a question and more of a statement from him. It was more than enough for a night. I nodded.

Of course, I do wish you would've told me; I would've packed a bag.

I smiled, putting the envelope down on the table. I grab my phone and update my friend on how long I'd be gone for. I put away the phone quickly and look up at him. God, was he hot. And the way he carried himself made him even hotter, so nonchalant. He shrugged, sipping his drink before sitting next to me again, some space between us.

How long you been doing this?

He stares at me, gaze so intense I squirm a little.

Just a few months.

We're quiet again. Usually I try to carry a conversation if the other party can't hold one, but he makes me nervous. I talk again, asking mundane questions. It's like pulling teeth trying to have small talk with him. Maybe he's just not much of a talker.

I scoot closer to him, our knees barely touching. He puts his drink down, and rests his arms on the back of the couch. I lean in closer to him, resting my hand on his thigh before kissing his lips. He kisses back softly. We exchange light, almost timid kisses for awhile. He finally moves. A hand reaching up to grab at my hair, gently pulling. I moan faintly and that seems to set him off. He grabs me by the throat, not hard, just enough to stand me up and guide me to his bedroom; our kisses getting more intense. We strip each other of our clothes. I unbuckle his pants and pull them down, it feels like I'm opening a gift on Christmas. He's big. I smile up at him. He just looks down vacantly. I pull down his boxers and his erection springs up, tip drooling. He opens a drawer next to the bed, pulling out a condom and rolling it on himself.

Lay back.

He commands. I obey, opening my legs. I've done this so many times before, but this time it's different. As unceremoniously as he's treating this, I can't be more excited. His body is amazing, tattoos and scars just adding to the mysterious aura. His natural scent drives me wild. I look up to him as he crawls over me, lining himself up with me. He gives a couple lazy slaps on my slick. I take a sharp breath. He watches as he slides himself in, I tense up. Most guys are well... average. And he's well... much more than that.

Relax.

He huffs. Sliding himself in more, not giving me any time to adjust. I grip the bedsheets, clenching my jaw. I stare up at him, he doesn't even look at me. His face emotionless as he watches himself slide in and out. I try to unclench, opening myself up more to him.

Mhm...

He grunts. My nipples harden at his voice. I moan as he slams into my cervix repeatedly. It makes him shoot his eyes up at me, glaring into mine. His eyes dark pools, intense. He roughly hooks his arms under my knees, pushing them up to my chest. He digs even deeper into me as I whimper. He takes quick, shallow breaths.

You're so deep.

I say panting, the breath getting knocked out of me. I reach out to touch his muscular arms. He grunts and pounds harder into me. I throw my head back, whining. Trying to not wince in pain. He slows for a moment, pulling back, keeping my legs on his shoulders as he slides in and out. My breasts bounce up and down with each thrust.

You're hot.

A hint of emotion in his voice, he reaches down to knead my chest. My face gets hot. I tighten around him.

Fuck...

He makes a sound that almost resembles a moan. I smile up at him, almost proud of making him show any emotion. He looks down at me, a flicker in his eyes, a small smirk on his face that leaves as quickly as it came. He parts my legs and rubs at my clit in rough circles. I squirm under him.

Say my name.

He orders. His strokes picking up as I get used to him.

Simon~

As soon as his name leaves my lips, a deep rumble from his chest fills my ears. He leans over me, arms on either side of my head. I reach up to run my hands up and down the back of his neck.

Say you love me.

His request takes me aback. I pull him closer, my lips just under his ear.

I love you~

He immediately tenses up and takes a heavy breath. I could feel him twitch inside me as he finishes. He pulls away quickly, going to the bathroom to throw out the condom and clean up. He brings back a wet towel, wiping me down.

What's your name?

His tone as flat as ever.

Gia.

I responded. I know what he's actually asking me. Never, ever tell a trick your real name. Hell, he shouldn't even know your real age.

You know what I mean.

He glares at me. I shift awkwardly. Don't do it. He doesn't say a word, just stares in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Why should he know your real name anyways? I tell him my name. Stupid. Fucking dumbass. I kick myself. He nods and slides into some sweats, throwing me his shirt.

Let's watch something.

I throw on his shirt. Now this is what I'm used to. Being a temporary girlfriend. Pretending to be affectionate. Giving much needed companionship. He splays out on the couch as I lay on top of him. He turns on the TV, resting a hand on my ass and squeezing it. Maybe this is why he hires girls. Because of how distant he is. The man can't even hold a conversation. He flicks on some show he was in the middle of, a business dramedy that I couldn't care less about. I rest my head on his chest and he runs his fingers through my hair. We're like this for a while, quiet.

Tell me you love me.

He says dryly, looking down at me. I look up and kiss him.

I love you, Simon.

He gets hard immediately, rubbing himself on me. He gets up, lifting me up effortlessly, and throws me on the bed. He lays on top of me, pinning me down onto the bed. Kissing me much more passionately this time, like he was trying to taste every inch of my mouth.

Keep saying it.

His voice gruff. He moves his kisses down to my neck, pawing at my bust.

I love you, Simon.

I moan. I wanted him so badly. I don't care how I got him, I just wanted to take him. Something about him made me go crazy, deep inside. He yanks up the shirt I was wearing, moving his kisses more and more south.

You fuck other people raw?

I shake my head. I might've been a whore, but I wasn't reckless.

Never.

He nods.

Can I eat you out?

I look down at him. Something about seeing him between my legs makes me wanna say yes. The way his eyes looks almost as if he's pleading, desperate. No way. Never do that.

Yes.

I allow him to keep going. What the fuck am I doing? Why am I allowing this? Before I can think more, he plunges his tongue between my lips. Lapping up desperately, burying his face into me. I roll my eyes back, running my fingers through his hair.

I love you, Simon.

I gasp. It's the only thing he wanted me to say. I saw something in him, the way he reacted when I said that, it made me want to stay in his place forever. To never leave. Make him happy. It's just the good head talking, you'll snap back to your senses afterwards. He moans so quietly I can barely hear it. Barely. My legs on his shoulders, his arms wrapped around my thighs. Digging fingers into the soft flesh. He sucks on my nub repeatedly. It's a tortuously delicious feeling. I grip his hair a little.

I love you, Simon.

I look down at him, watching him devour me. He looks up at me, his eyes showing an emotion I can't decipher. He moves one hand down to slide two fingers into me.

I love you, Simon.

I moan, throwing my head back and smiling.

Hmm...

He mumbled into my heat. Pumping in and out before bending his fingers in a way that presses against my sweet spot. I hiss, pleasure flashing through me like a strobe light. I'm dripping wet. He pulls his fingers out and plunges his tongue into my entrance, trying to suck out every drop of my juices.

You taste good.

Voice as flat as ever, as if he isn't lost in between my folds. He drags his tongue up between my lips, from my entrance to my nub again. He slips his fingers in again, pressing up against my sweet spot repeatedly. I get lost in the feeling. God I could stay like this forever. He looks up at me, like he's looking for validation.

I love you, Simon~

I slip out between heavy breaths. He picks up the pace of his fingers and tongue. My face gets hot as I get closer, grip his hair a little harder. He goes even faster, harder, almost feverant. I roll my eyes back, panting. I whimper before crying out, tightening around his fingers in a vice grip.

I love you, Simon~

I force the words from my throat as I spasm under him. He continues, seemingly determined to draw another climax out of me. I mewled, trying to push his head away. He was unmoving for an unbearable moment. The only sounds were my pants and his slurping.

I love you, Simon.

I wailed, almost hoping it'll make him stop. He does thankfully. He pulls away, tearing off his sweats, beating off himself. Staring at me, his gaze is intense as ever. He grabs me by the thighs and drags me into his lap. He continues to stroke himself, staring into my wet core as if he was hypnotized by it.

Can I...

He starts, almost knowing he shouldn't ask the question.

Can I fuck you raw?

His voice is uncharacteristically soft and unsure. I blink at him, mind racing. ABORT! ABORT! THIS IS LIKE RULE #1 IN HOE-ING!!! He looked so delicious from this angle, his eyes still glued on my wetness. ARE YOU INSANE?? NO!! His throbbing, beautiful dick is twitching.

...yes.

I nod. You're the dumbest person on the planet. I insult myself a million different ways in my head. A brief moment of regret is replaced with pleasure as he slides his tip teasingly in and out of me. His jaw clenches, chest rising and falling faster. His voice cracks as a moan escapes him, his eyebrows furrow.

I love you, Simon.

I stare at him, eyes half lidded. The smallest smile spreads across his face, still looking at himself entering me. He inches his way in. Pulling in and out, going deeper each time. I squeeze him, make him bite his lip.

That's good.

He stated, voice quavering. He clears his throat before grabbing one leg and lifting it to my chest, digging deep into me. I take a sharp breath in. He hovers over me, arms on either side of my head again. He slides in and out, slowly at first then picking up to a punishing pace. I whimper and wiggle under him. He grabs my face, forcing me to look into his eyes that bore into mine.

I love you, Simon.

I stare right back at him, passion shooting right out of my eyes. His eyes flutter for a moment before blinking back into his cold, unnerving self. He continues to dig himself into me, slamming and grinding himself into the deepest parts of me. It's a painfully addicting feeling. I take his hand and press it up against my lower stomach so he can feel how much he fills me. He clenches his jaw so hard, it looks like his head could pop.

I love you, Simon.

I whisper. He drops down on top of me, snaking his arms around and behind my back to grab my ass. His mouth right next to my ear, I can hear his fast and shallow breaths. Little groans that slip out every now and then. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tighter.

I love you, Simon.

I hear him groan under me as I said it again. He goes faster than before, pretty much jackhammering me into the mattress. My mouth is agape and head thrown back. Only grunts escape my throat as I get fucked senseless.

Mhm...like that?

His words bounce around in my empty head. I replay it in my head over and over until I clench around him, he doesn't stop though. It only seems to spur him on even more. His warm breath tickling my ear as it gets more ragged.

Keep saying it.

He demands through gritted teeth.

Fuck... I love you, Simon.

I squeak out the words. He huffs and continues to rampage my body.

Can I come inside you?

He asks- No, begs. No use in turning back now. Just the thought made me close again.

Yes.

I nod and he breathes harder and harder until he pleads in a strained voice,

Say it.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

I love you, Simon~

He spills inside me. His stammered breaths and moans driving me crazy. The feeling of him pumping into me driving me over the edge. I pull him closer, practically squeezing him.

I love you, Simon.

I tenderly kiss the top of his head as he nuzzles into my neck.

How often do you do this?

My head clears, a wave of regret coming over me.

Never. I never even hired anyone before you.

He says in a way so sincere I honestly believe him. How do you know when a trick is lying? Their mouth is open. Rules. Rules to live by, to be able to survive doing what I do. Rules. They all meant nothing as soon as I laid eyes on him. Somehow saw this coming a mile away in the back of my head. He pulled away from my grasp, disappointment flooded me. He leaned back, opening my legs: watching both of our cum dripping out of me.

Say it.

His eyes so focused, as if he were trying to take a picture with his mind; so he would never forget this moment.

I love you, Simon.

I say with a tender smile. His dick jumps. Good lord is this man insatiable. He stands up and does the same routine as before, cleaning himself up and then me. He hands me his shirt:

Here.

I throw it on and he leads me to the bathroom, grabbing me by the shoulders and making me face the mirror. He gently pushes my back, I lean my elbows on the countertop. I stand on the balls of my feet, trying to get my hips to meet his. As I look in the mirror, his face looks almost tender watching me sway my hips.

I love you, Simon~

I sing softly. He bites his lip, entering me again. God, I never get used to the feeling. He grabs my hips and pulls me onto him, he bottoms me out. Groaning louder this time, he pulls my hair back so I'm looking directly at the mirror, locking eyes with him.

S'it, pretty girl...

A corner of his mouth upturned just enough to know he's enjoying himself. His words make me flutter around him. He groans and starts to pound into me. The bathroom is filled with the duet of our breaths and groans. He pulls my hair so my back is pressed against his chest. He rests a hand on my throat, squeezing just enough. Moves his lips to my neck, still sliding in and out of me.

You love me? Huh?

He grunts, warm breath on the pulse of my neck.

I love you. So much.

I moaned. I repeated the phrase so many times, it started coming out of my mouth naturally. He moved his hand from my hair to my lower stomach, pressing against it so he could feel himself hitting my walls.

You love this dick, yeah? Say it.

His voice getting more demanding and urgent. I nod and look at him through the mirror, smiling.

I love it, I love this dick so much, Simon~

He nips at my neck as he continues to fuck me. His nips turn into bites. Bites that definitely leave marks. I didn't care, that didn't matter right now.

You're never fucking leaving, you know that?

A threat that sounded like heaven to me. He could keep me chained to the bed and I wouldn't care, just as long as he kept fucking me like this. I giggled with excitement.

You like that, hm?

He smiles against my skin before continuing to lick and bite my neck.

I love it~

I truly did. It felt heavenly. Better than anyone I've ever had. Ever. Something felt so familiar about his touch. As if I belonged there.

I love you, Simon~

At this point I feel like I'm reciting a prayer, the words flowing out of me like a stream. I was melting in his arms.

Turn around, wanna see that pretty face.

I did so eagerly as he lifted me up on the counter and slid inside me. I smirked up at him. He, as always, was watching himself impale me.

Looks so pretty...

He seemingly mumbled to himself. He leaned down and pressed our foreheads together, a firm hand on the back of my head. Hitting a spot so deep inside me I never knew I had. We were like this for a long minute, sloppy sounds of our sex bouncing off the walls.

I love you, Simon.

I stared into his eyes. They seem to soften for a moment before he tightened the grip on the back of my neck. A huff, and then he came undone. He stayed inside me until he was soft. He pulls out and pushes his fingers into my cunt, stuffing his seed back into me.

Hm.

He grunts in a way that sounds like approval before helping me off the counter. He leads me to bed and slips under the covers.

In my arms.

Commanding as he usually does. I press my head against his chest, his heart beating hard and fast. He wraps an arm around me, his touch much gentler than before. I fall asleep. Not too sure if he does too.

Morning comes and I'm woken up by the sun shining in my face. Sitting up, I'm in his bed, still wearing his shirt. Alone. I walk out to the living room and see him setting up breakfast on the coffee table.

You made this?

I question, surprised.

Ordered it. Good morning.

He turns to me, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks at me expectantly. I blink at him.

Good morning.

I say. He looks at me as if he was anticipating something else. I think for a moment before suddenly remembering.

I love you, Simon.

He steps to the side, inviting me to sit on the couch. I help myself to a seat and look at the plate in front of me. It's simple, French toast and eggs. I help myself.

Are you gonna eat anything?

I look at him quizzically. He shakes his head, staring like always. We're silent as I finish my plate. I grab my phone and check the time. Almost time for me to leave.

Can I book you for longer?

His voice is gruff. An underlying tone, pleading?

It'll be expensive.

I didn't want to say that. Wanted to say I'll stay as long as he likes. But I already made too many mistakes. Gotta get back on track.

I don't care.

Of course he didn't. He could probably buy me out for the rest of my life if he wanted to. He pulled out his phone, asking for my personal number so he could send the money straight to my bank account. Hesitantly I gave it to him. He probably could find out that stuff if he wanted to anyways. My phone dings, I check my bank app. My eyes pop out of my head. I look up at him bewildered.

How long would that get me?

He asks, as if he didn't send me an ungodly amount of money.

It's enough for a whole week...

Shock still overwhelming me.

You wanna stay that long?

He doesn't really ask. He knows I'll say yes. Doesn't even wait for my answer.

I'll let you get your things.

He throws some of his clothes my way and sends me back in a car to the hotel. I grab my bags and checkout. Is this really happening? A call from my girlfriend. I tell her about his extension. She says something about making sure he's not a serial killer. We laugh, tells me to have fun, don't fall in love. I scoff as if that was the stupidest idea I've heard. As soon as I know it I'm back at his place, he's grabbing bags from me, setting them to the side. Turning to me and running a hand up the side of my waist.

I love you, Simon.

We spend the whole week tangled up in each other. Taking a break before I say those four words and he has me pinned against a wall or over a dresser or kitchen counter. Any flat surface, really.

It's Saturday night and we're showering, cleaning off sweat and other bodily fluids from each other. His touch is so gentle, handling me like I was a piece of china. He liked me. It was obvious. Seemed like the only way he knew how to show it was by fucking me, though. I liked him too. Maybe not to the extent he did.

Seemed like he found something he needed for a long time. He was hungry. Famished. He couldn't just let go of me. He's not satiated yet. Don't know if he'll ever be. It was a looming feeling. Dark and heavy. A little scary. But it made me feel more desired than I've ever been before. And not just a carnal desire. It made me feel coveted.

We're laid up on his couch. Watching the show I didn't care for before, a little more invested. My phone lights up, buzzing. The name of a regular of mine across the screen in big bold letters. This is usually the time of the month he calls to set up a date. A reminder that this is all temporary. I let it go to voicemail. He tenses up. Jealousy and disappointment radiating off him.

How much for the whole month?

He doesn't even let me think of an answer before speaking again.

How much to make you quit for good?

I'm a little shook, sure I've heard it a dozen times before. Always said in jest. But he's serious. The few words he said, he always seemed to mean. No need to waste his breath beating around the bush. My heart races. I can feel his pound against mine. A number doesn't come to my head.

Let's just see how this goes.

He doesn't like that answer. He wants something solid. A promise that I'll never leave. More than a promise. But that's as good as he can get right now. There's a tense silence between us.

I love you, Simon.

The only thing I can think of saying right now. He takes hold of me, climbing into the bed and sits me in his lap. His back against the headboard.

C'mon love.

He says frigid. An underlying tone of disappointment and hurt. I slide myself down on him, a little more adjusted to his size now. He wraps strong arms around my waist, pulling me so close it seems like he wants to coalesce into my very being.

Give me a number.

A demand that seems more like a plea. We hold each other. Unmoving as he is still buried deep inside me.

Maybe it is a little toxic to spiral into the addiction to fast money. Maybe I'm a little sick of pretending to be the perfect woman. Maybe it is a little exhausting to be a fantasy and nothing more. Maybe it is a little lonely when it's just me lying in bed, when I have to comfort others. Where's my comfort in all of this? Where's my happiness in all of this? No more fake smiles. No more fake orgasms. No more fake feelings. I don't care if he's lying. I want to indulge in delusion. Even for a moment.

Ok.

I give in. He leans over, placing me on my back before adjusting himself on top of me. Touches my face, his showing an emotion that is genuine and staggering. Devotion? It feels like it.

I could almost cry, the way he takes me like I'm his. The way he talks to me like I'm not someone he hired. That didn't matter anymore. I wasn't an escort to him. I was his girl. The sex was different. Transcendant. Divine. Did I know I wanted to be saved? Of course I didn't know; for the life of sin and suffering is simply a thing to toil in until you are shown salvation. Every time he came, he baptized me. I was born again in his eyes, I was perfect and clean. Absolved of my sins.

He looked at me with so much adoration. I looked up at him, much in the same way Magdalene did to her Redeemer. He had turned a prostitute into a Saint. The unshakeable feeling of deliverance washed over as he touched me, no longer a leper. I was saved by him. His body. His sweat. His seed. Akin to taking Communion. The closest to heaven we'll ever get.

[desmond69miles]

okay so… devil may cry….

dmc boys being overstimulated by a sex toy (vibe? fleshlight? surprise me :D)

this is what I’m SAYING.

2/23/25: I don't remember when I posted this, but it's been a hot minute so I reread this. I fixed some grammar + rewrote/added some bits! I haven't written sex in a long time so I didn't touch a lot of the actual smut... Sorry

Tags: Use of sex toys (vibe (Vergil)/fleshlight (Dante)), light overstimulation, 69 (Dante), heavy praise, sub dmc men, I don't think I wrote this with a specific game in mind for Dante so pick your favorite version of him

[-: He'd be open to most sex toys, including toys that go up you or him. Dante is the type of person to try most things at least once, even if it's not particularly to his liking. Of course, he expects kinks to be a two-way road, so Dante would like if you tried things he liked.

Dante

[-: Dante loves having sex toys used on him. He'd be open to the conversation that talks about sex toys and is very willing to be your test bunny. He could possibly be a little too willing, wanting to immediately go to sex without the discussion of safe words and boundaries.

(Which is one of the few things Dante is infinitatly grateful that you made him talk about. Devil triggers are, to your word, great in sex, but not when it comes as a surprise due to overstimulation.)

Hips positioned above his face, one of your hands rested on his thigh while the other held a dark red stroker tight around his cock. Dante's tongue flicked around your hole and his hands were tight against your hips, keeping you flush to his mouth. Occasionally you stuttered when he hit a good spot, head hanging low as your hand loosened around the stroker.

"Fuck, baby, don't stop." He'd say as you quickly jerked him off, slowing down sometimes around his tip. He wasn't quiet and you knew it was pointless to get him to try to be quiet, so you could only hope the neighbors had a good pair of headphones. Dante's hips chased after your hand when you pulled off just as he was about to cum, a high and whiny whimper coming from your boyfriend.

"C'mon! I was so close." You giggled at his whining and pushed the stroker back onto his leaking cock. Pumping once, twice slowly just to give Dante a thought of a slow orgasm, only to speed up quickly. Dante's head fell back against the pillows as he groaned and whined, hips roughly snapping to meet your hand. It came on so quickly neither of you really noticed, Dante's cum painting his and your stomach.

A low "Fuck.." was drawn slow out of Dante. You both laid in bliss for a little while before he roughly grabbed your hips and pushed you off of him, reversing the positions so now Dante hovered over you, pressing a wet kiss to your lips. "My turn now, babe."

[-: No relation to the things above, but Dante would be the most open to pegging.

Vergil

[-: Vergil's not as open as Dante would be. Actually, he wouldn't be open, like at all. Besides flings in his youth (that resulted in Nero and hopefully no other kids), Vergil wasn't the type for routine sex and romantic relationships.

[-: On the VERY rare occasion that Vergil would get into an actual, serious romantic relationship aka the first one he's ever had, it would take a lot more convincing for his consent to let you use a toy on him, like thorough begging. To Vergil, sex is something that's meant to happen between two people, not between two people and an object.

Your hand is tight around the base of his cock, a small yet powerful bullet vibe pressed harsh against the underside of his tip. His thighs tensed, mind fighting off the urge to bend his knees to stave off the upcoming orgasm. His hands were gripping the sheet below him tightly, wrinkling the grey sheets. His hips gently jerked up, head tilted way back into the sheets. 'He's gonna bite his lip off if he keeps biting down like that,' you thought. 'Cute, though.'

[-: If you let Vergil use a vibrator on you, he'd be a lot more willing to let you use it on him.

[-: When he does allow you to use them on him, he's all quiet whimpers and groans. His fists are tightly balled up in the sheets, hips subconsciously pumping up into your hand.

You knew Vergil's boundaries like your own, and you knew that if you tried to push him to the point of begging, he'd tap out. So, your hand let go of his cock and the other pushed the vibe so his cock was flush against his lower tummy. Your free hand ran across his thigh, running up towards his hips, trailing up to his chest. You gently raked your nails across his muscles and watched his tummy flex.

<3

"I-I'm going to cum." Vergil says so matter-of-factly, still so in character. "Go ahead, you deserve it. You've been such a good boy for me." You watched his face flex at your praise and you knew at the moment he wanted to shoot back but couldn't as his dick twitched, cum shooting and pooling where his tip was pressed into his stomach. "Good boy. Do you want another one?" You asked sweetly, Vergil's body going limp as he relishes in the waves of a powerful orgasm. Your husband let out a weak breath and a low 'no.' You hummed in response and shut off the vibrator that had been forgotten about. "I'll go get a towel and some water, alright? We can also take a bath if you want." You slid off the bed and put the vibe to the side, leaning over Vergil's head. Your still-lubed fingers brushed a strand of free hair off of his head and your lips gave a warm kiss to his forehead, cheek, and then a chaste one on his lips.

[fatuismooches]

a lesson in sadness.

Today was another day of your peaceful, average but happy life with the puppet known as Kabukimono. Nothing seemed different about today. The blue sky appeared endless, stretching on forever with misty cotton clouds hovering above. Villagers and miners were already awake, slowly turning the sleepy village alive again. It seemed like it would be a good, normal day. And a good, normal day was deserving of a nice walk to take in the scenery. 

Kabukimono, Niwa, Katsuragi, and you sometimes went on strolls outside the village, and today was one such day. Even though it was a group of you, you tended to stick to two pairs - Kabukimono and you, and Niwa and Katsuragi. The two older men had cheesily nudged you with their elbows, winking and motioning for you to join your lover. They’d let the two lovebirds have some alone time as they walked behind, they said, remarking about how precious young love was. You were going to kick them later for sure.

But you welcomed the time you got with Kabukimono. Lately, you had been encouraging him to be around the other villagers without you. You figured he needed more interaction with other people. You could only teach him so much. Some things in life could only be learned through experience. But it seemed like he preferred to hang out with the kiddos anyway.

“And they taught me lots of cool games! Hide and seek, temari, duck duck goose… tag, too!” The thought of Kabukimono trying to keep up with the hyperactive children was amusing.

“Tag? I can’t imagine how fast you had to run,” you giggled and Kabukimono brightened.

“Really fast, actually! I have a lot of stamina, see!” With that he took off in front of you, taking you by surprise for a second, but you excitedly raced after him. Now, you weren’t much of a runner, but something about doing this with him made you feel like the weight of all your worries had been lifted. The sounds of laughter filled the air.

“Hah- K-Kabukimono! Wait u-up!” Your sprint had come to a halting stop, hands on your knees as you caught your breath. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the Almighty Shogun’s puppet was so agile, but this was on another level. Then again, you thought a puppet would be emotionless, but Kabukimono was far from that.

Thankfully he stopped to rub your back comfortingly like the good boy he was. “Hehe, sorry [Name]. I guess I got a bit carried away there. But you should really join us! We always have a lot of fun!”

You smiled at him through your pants, standing up straight. “Well, when you put it like that, I simply can’t refuse. But I think you’ll have to do most of the running. I’ll just be… backup.” Both of you giggled and you caressed his cheek, while he looked into your eyes deeply. Slowly, you both began to lean in, ready to lock lips when-

Snap.

The sudden noise was enough to make you jump and pull away from Kabukimono, eyes searching your surroundings. Uneasiness settled in your stomach, and you then felt him tighten his hold on your sleeve. Turning your head back, you could see why.

A group of Kairagi and Nobushi appeared in front of you.

The uneasiness had crept up and turned to agitation. You two weren’t even that far from the village, yet somehow they were this close. Usually, they knew their place. Perhaps things had gotten bad for them lately.

“Well well well, what do we have here? Two lost little lambs?” They all had mean, wicked smiles on their face, some blades drawn already. You had a feeling that this good, normal day would turn out to be something far different.

The dishonored samurai had a tendency to attack anyone regardless, but you knew they were particularly interested this time. Kabukimono’s clothing was very expensive. And they liked to rob.

Kabukimono, on the other hand, hadn’t much experience with people outside of the tight-knit village, but he could easily tell that these men gave off a much different vibe than what he was accustomed to. And your face had an emotion that you rarely ever displayed. Fright. Nervousness. The same face he made when he was abandoned in Shakkei Pavilion.

“Kabukimono,” you whispered breathlessly, “We have to run. Now.” You didn’t like how your own fear was beginning to infect him, but there was no helping it. 

Your hand slid down to firmly grasp the puppet’s. Niwa and Katsuragi shouldn’t be that far behind, but you should get some distance away from the bandits before you yell for help. They could hurt you if you tried anything like that. Carefully, you took a few steps back, tugging on Kabukimono’s hand.

“Come on, we need to-” You had begun to turn around to run when a large shadow suddenly loomed over you. You recognized the tattered clothing instantly as another Nobushi, and before you could even look up to gaze at your attacker’s face-

A warm liquid splattered on Kabukimono’s face. 

He was rendered horrifically speechless as you staggered back, your hand gingerly touching your shoulder, which now had a large cut. Your grip on his hand began to weaken, eyes widening in surprise and then shutting just as quickly until you fell to the ground. Almost robotically, he stared at your crumpled form, blood soaking into your shirt now. When his eyes shifted to your pained face, Kabukimono snapped out of his terrified daze and dropped down to his knees to your body.

The Nobushi paid no mind to the scene, instead shaking the blade to clean your blood off of it. But Kabukimono was too caught up with your nearly still body lying in his trembling arms, unable to properly process what just happened.

Kabukimono had never seen so much blood in his life. He didn’t even know humans could bleed this much. What should he do? Puppets did not bleed the same way humans did. You never taught him about this. One hand was placed on your back, and the other was pressed to the cut on your bare shoulder, but quickly he realized how much of the fluid stained his pale hand, running down from his palm to his arm and dripping onto his white clothes.

He was sick to his stomach. 

He wanted to move, to scream, to call for help, but the sight of the redness gushing from you onto his hand made bile rise in his throat. Your blood was on his hands, literally and figuratively. The puppet was paralyzed. Not even the clash of blades could draw him away, or the yelling that was close by but seemed distant. Even the shaking of his shoulders could not draw him away from your bloodied face, barely registering the extra pairs of hands that occupied your body.

“Kabukimono!” A seemingly distant voice ran in his ears. “Kabukimono!” Niwa had torn a piece of his shirt off and wrapped it around your wound.

“Kabukimono! [Name] NEEDS YOU!” Niwa screamed your name, the sheer emotion and urgency in his voice finally making him snap out of his traumatized trance.  “Go! Now! Bring the town doctor!”

You need him, Kabukimono thought. That’s right. You need him. You needed to live. With that, he stumbled to his feet, and ran, ran, ran. Ran despite his blurry vision from tears, and the ache in his knees from tripping. For you.

—

It had been a few days since the incident, and you had not woken up yet. The puppet had remained by your side throughout. His eyes trained on you the whole time.

Kabukimono wondered what you dreamed of. He hoped it was sweet dreams. He hoped you weren’t suffering in the land of dreams at least. Meanwhile, he was being racked with his own tortuous thoughts, unable to even entertain the thought of sleeping when you were laid like this in front of him.

Useless. Weak. Powerless.

That was what Kabukimono thought of himself as. Sure, he was discarded by his creator for his lack of utility, but even still, he should have been able to do something. He could have punched, kicked, or anything. He was stronger than you, but he could not do anything to protect you. You’ve taught him so much, and he felt like he had not repaid even a fraction of it. Instead, the only thing he could think about was how it should have been him. Then he would have been of some use to you at least.

He turned his attention back to you. As always you managed to look so pretty, even when you were sleeping. If you opened your eyes, you’d look even more pretty, he thought. For a second he wondered if praying to Inazuma’s Archon would help. He had a… complicated relationship with her, but the other villagers always said-

Luckily it didn’t need to come to that, for somehow you answered his unspoken wish, eyes barely fluttering open and then squeezing shut again at the light. Something in his chest beat ferociously as he leaped up from his seat.

“[Name]? [Name]! Oh, you’re awake!” He cried out in joy and almost threw his arms around you, but stopped himself since you were injured. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

“Ngh… ugh, K-Kabukimono?” Your head pounded a bit and you squinted at the person in front of you. A hand was gently stroking your hair.

“Yes, it’s me, [Name]. It’s Kabukimono. I’m right here,” he did his best to keep his voice calm for you. After a few minutes, you had come to your senses, the ache on your shoulder a reminder of the events that you were starting to remember again.

“Oh… ah, Kabukimono. Hey love,” you whispered, trying to work up a small smile to ease his teary eyes. His hands moved to softly grip your one.

“[Name]... I was so worried. You were asleep for days, I was so, so scared. I didn’t know what to do…” He trailed off, voice threatening to break into hiccups. You were asleep for days? No wonder Kabukimono was looking a little worse for wear. He pressed your hand against his cheek, and you softly cupped it in return.

“Hey… don’t cry. I’m fine now, see?” He sniffed and looked at you with big, blearily eyes, nodding his head as he continued to relish your awakened presence. He updated you on what else happened, how your two friends defeated the bad men, and how everyone was so worried for you. How relieved he was when he found out you would be okay. 

But it was obvious he was terribly bothered by the whole situation. The young puppet had experienced loss before, but it was in no way similar to the feeling he felt when you were bleeding out in his arms. It was immensely jarring, and he’d never felt so ill before.

“I just don’t understand,” he murmured softly. “Why would anyone want to hurt you? You’re so kind, beautiful, amazing…” The puppet trailed off with downcast, clouded eyes. You sucked in a breath, totally unsure of what to say.

You were not sure how to word this to the young, still learning puppet. How do you even go about explaining that there are some people out there who want to hurt you, in any way possible? Sometimes for a reason but also no reason at all? That some people were just rotten?

“Well,” you began, hoping the words would come to you, but nothing did. You continued on ineloquently, “Some people are just wicked. Evil. They don’t care about what happens to others.”

“But why?” He pressed on. Why, indeed. That was the question everyone asked themselves.

“I don’t know why. I wish I could tell you. But the only thing we can do is continue to spread goodness and happiness instead.” Kabukimono still seemed stumped and confused by your answer, but let the conversation drop, instead choosing to move it back to you.

“Do you need anything? Is the pain unbearable? The doctor should be here should. Actually, you’re probably really hungry, aren’t you? Should I-” Kabukimono worriedly rambled on until you pressed your fingers to his lip, effectively shutting him up.

“Of course it hurts,” you stated honestly, “but it doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. I will be fine,” you reassured him. “Though something to eat would be nice.”

Your partner dutifully nodded, as if he was given a mission that decided the fate of the world. “I will get you something right now! And tell everyone else you’ve awoken!” Kabukimono left the room, and you were alone for a bit, but not for long, as the familiar brown-haired man popped in right after. 

“Ah, Niwa…”

“Hey [Name],” he ruffled your hair affectionately. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure of what even to say. “I’m fine, but…”

“Looks like something is hurting you more than that cut of yours,” he looked at you with pity.

“I just, I don’t know how to console or help him.”

“It might be difficult for one without a heart to understand. Though you have taught him matters related to love and life, the flip side is…” Your dear friend trailed off.

“Kabukimono does have a heart. It may not be physical, but he is far more kind than some of the actual heartless humans I’ve met in this world,” you whispered softly, fluttering your eyes shut. “But, how do I explain death and hatred and all the ugly things in this world without breaking his heart…? I want him to learn, but I fear it may hurt him too much.” Niwa didn’t reply but looked at you with understanding, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“You know, he hadn’t moved the whole time since you were sleeping. No matter how much we pleaded with him, he just refused to leave your side. Didn’t eat, sleep, or even move an inch from that position. So… no matter what happens, I think the two of you will be fine. I’ll leave you before Kabukimono comes back.” With that, Niwa left your room, leaving you to your thoughts.

You stared at the ceiling, feeling empty, not just from the ache in your injured shoulder, but the one coming from your heart. You wondered what would happen when you actually died. Passed on from this world leaving Kabukimono by himself. What would he do? Would he accept it? Move on after overcoming the grief?

“[Name]? Here, I got your favorite,” your lover’s voice rang throughout the room as he came in with a neatly set tray of soup. “The doctor says you need to eat light things to get your appetite back.”

You watched as he diligently dipped the spoon into the bowl and then brought it to your lips. You obediently swallowed the liquid. It was yummy. He continued the process without faltering, like this was the one thing he must do expertly.

Well, you could put thoughts like those away. It wasn’t necessary right now. You weren’t planning on dying anytime soon, not while he needed you so much.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

[haechanhues]

chapter twenty : a 'who' reason

*written*

word count : 1k

warnings : nothing. She feels a little fuzzy and a bit of a ‘i love the people in my life’ vibe. Drinking. Not proofread. Also forgave him way too easily but anyways….

He had kissed you this morning, apology on his lips enough to imprint you for the rest of the day.

The kiss itself was sweet, but the way he pressed you into the wall wasn’t. The way he fucked you into your mattress wasn’t. The way you went on for hours wasn’t. 

The way you wanted him to stay, although sweet, was terrifying. 

“You look so good,” Wendy complimented as she pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

“Thanks,” You goofed, not taking it seriously. 

“I mean it, you look fucking gorgeous,” Wendy shrugged. 

Yeri smirked, “There’s probably a ‘who’ reason.” 

You shoved her. Out of all of Joy’s friends, you normally gravitated to Yeri. She was originally a workmate of Joy but she was closest in age to you. The dynamics were sometimes a little weird, and a bit confusing at times but ultimately they worked, you loved her. You loved Irene, who you could settle down with and who watched over you when you needed it. You loved Wendy, who would compliment you and who’d always let you experiment using her kitchen utensils and the like. Who didn’t particularly have any attachment towards anything she owned except her plants and cute dog. You loved Seulgi who was always willing to hang out with you. Always. Who took you somewhere even without Joy around. Or Yeri. Like another older sister. 

Joy made a lot of girl friends, and liked to drag you along to any event, disliking the amount of men you were surrounded by, but not disliking the men themselves. She actually liked them, almost preying on their need to make her like them. Whereas she loved to share you with her friends, you hated doing the same. 

You liked that they were your friends. 

Yours. 

So whilst you loved the feeling of their precision when they cut your nails and the trained gentleness when rubbing moisturising cream to your skin. You couldn’t wait to see your boys again, see the way their faces changed into a wide smile. 

You bring the champagne and they fuss over your hair and your nails, pleasantly surprised and threading your hands together, loving the softness of your skin. 

“Y/N,” Chenle shouted from the couch, falling over in an attempt to reach you as you wrapped your arms around him, “And you brought champagne!” 

You notice quickly that the boy from this morning isn’t there (he was spending the day with his mother but would make an effort to come back before the day was over) but the atmosphere didn��t let her disappointment nor longing linger for too long. 

For hours, you played games that made you bicker with each other. Bicker over who cheated. Bicker over who won. Bicker over how unfair it was. They laughed at your inability to pick up cards with your new nails and one of the boys would pick it up for you. 

You made the shit decision to down a couple shots each, because you were all so drunk nobody played the role of mother hen, finding the confines of Jaemin’s apartment safe enough to do so. 

“I need to go to the toilet,” Jisung mutters drunkenly, and with a cacophony of loud refusals, all five of you stumble after him. Mark, being responsible, covers your eyes from the sight of Jisung sitting on the toilet, a folded pile of toilet paper in his grasp and sleep in his eyes. 

“Let’s hop in the bath!” You exclaim, to which the boys follow after you. It makes you feel like the ringleader in ‘We’re Going On A Lion Hunt’ and it makes your cheeks crack with the grin that overtakes your face. 

You giggle together, conversing about god knows what. You don’t even know what you’re talking about and you’re pretty sure the boys don’t either. But they nod relentlessly at your drunken rant like yes boys. 

Mark wraps his arms around Jisung and Jaemin, Chenle cuddling into Jaemin’s body and you hang off Jisung - if someone were to take a picture it’d be the kind you’d hang on your fridge with a cheesy caption. 

But ultimately, when Haechan does arrive and he follows the noise he finds the five of you struggling to help Jaemin out of the bath, he can’t help the exasperated sigh that escapes his lips. 

“Can’t leave you guys anywhere, can I?” He scoffs, you all let out a cartoonish gasp, all turning to him before he’s smothered in limbs and gibberish. 

Jaemin trips the rest of the way out of the bath, giving Haechan’s ankle a kiss as he attempts to get up. Haechan’s lips curl in disgust as Mark, Chenle and Jisung all give their own wet and uncomfortably airy kisses. 

“Get the fuck off me,” He hisses, without the venom. 

“He likes it,” Jaemin grunts, rising from the ground with a stumble. 

“Out of the bath, Princess,” Haechan snorts at you, staring at him with wide innocent eyes. 

You shake your head solemnly, “I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

Before you dare shake your head again, Haechan walks forward, knees hitting against the wall of the bath, “You’re a pain.” 

Defiantly, you hold out both hands and Haechan can’t get a grip on the laugh that rebounds against the bathroom walls, bending slightly to support your weight as you lift out of the bath and wrap your arms around him to ‘rest’. 

“Hey, you brought champagne too!” 

Haechan’s lips curl with amusement, “I only brought it cause you were already drinking it, Princess.” 

Mark turns to the scene, his arms hanging over the barricade the rest of the boys make with their bodies, “Bruh, I’m saying there’s something between them-” 

Truthfully, you both heard what he said and if he wanted to be honest, Haechan smiled like it was nothing but the truth. Like the way his heart was acting was considered normal and the almost fluttery feeling in his body was just part of your body butter smell. He leaned a little closer to you, close enough to count every eyelash you had and close enough to question whether the warmth he felt came from your waist or his fingertips. 

You…you smiled too. But…. you only smiled because he did. 

AND NOW, US

your best friend's best friend offers his services as you keep complaining about your lack of… sexual gratification.

chapter twenty : a 'who' reason

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author's note : it's my birthday! i'm officially in my mid 20's now. scary.

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