#but the best i can say is that she'll come back eventually

[sonicreferencephotos]

As a Sonic Dash and Sonic forces dash player how do you get surge because when I was playing Sonic Dash none of her cards popped up do you have an explanation?

In Speed Battle, special and challenger class characters can only be unlocked during special events. Surge is a challenger, so if you want her there, you need to wait for an event

Dash is a little bit less clear-cut. There seems to be very little rhyme or reason to which characters are event specific. There are even common characters who I haven't gotten any cards for. I unlocked Surge during her debut event, so I haven't payed much attention to her cards since. I'm almost certain I've collected cards for her after the event ended though

I'm not sure why her cards aren't appearing now. My best guess is they temporarily(?) removed her from the card pool. I noticed her cards are on sale in the shop, so it could be that they want to incentivize people to spend money by creating scarcity. If that's the case, she'll probably come back a little bit after the sale ends. Otherwise, you might just have to wait for another event (or spend real money I guess.)

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Charm Me | Jeon Jungkook | Two Shot | Part One

Summary: Your best friend's boyfriend's best friend is not someone you had planned on falling for, and honestly you hardly admit it to yourself most days but maybe, just maybe there's something you can do to test those waters... Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook (semi friends to lovers lol) Word Count: 7k~ Warnings: Some curses here and there but nothing major. a/n: Kay so this was supposed to be a one shot but I didn't finish it in time and I wanted to get something out for Valentine's Day so I hope you guys enjoy it 🥰 p.s. barely edited per usual so please excuse any mistakes. I legit decided last minute to make this a two shot lol.

"Come on y/n let's go!" Sadie pleads practically dragging me through the parking lot. "Someone's excited" I laugh, dragging my feet a little to make her task even harder, eventually yanking me through a heart littered archway. 

"You finally agreed to come with me to the Valentine's Festival after I had been begging you for years! How could I not be excited?" she says as though her degree of excitement is warranted but with her, excitement is always easy to conjure.

"I've never had a reason to come since I've been single for years" I roll my eyes, the whole thing seemingly pointless if you ask me. "Yet here you are, still single and gracing me with your presence" she says accompanied by a dramatic curtsy, very fitting this time since she happens to be wearing a dress. 

Her cute coquette style mismatched with my dark and moody nature is a laughable dichotomy. 

Her pink ballet flats walk next to my all black combat boots, the ribbons swaying in her hair stand in stark contrast to the way the light catches on my silver chains, leaving us quite the odd pairing.

"You know, if you keep on hanging on my arm like that people are gonna think we're lesbians" I sigh, not making an effort to pull away. "Is that your way of asking me to be your Valentine" she teases and I roll my eyes. 

"Pretty sure Jayson would have a problem with that" I say, pealing her off of me leaving her pouting before grabbing my hand instead and pulling me over to the first of many stalls that line this festival. 

"Just because Jayson is my boyfriend doesn't mean he has to be my Valentine...plus he hasn't asked me yet" she sighs dramatically for the fifth time today, a common theme for the past couple of days whenever this topic is brought up. 

"You know you could always, I don't know... ask him" I say and her brows furrow leaving me poking the wrinkle on her forehead to make her stop. 

"What a ridiculous thing to say" she scoffs and walks off to the next stand leaving me shaking my head and following after her. 

Sadie is someone I've been friends with for as long as I can remember. Long enough to have known each other before we made the dramatic split in our senses of style. I'd love to burn the pictures of me in Abercrombie skinny jeans and brightly colored Hollister polos but alas they will forever haunt my memories. 

At least I had Sadie though. I wouldn't leave her in the past no matter how many embarrassing stories she's in possession of.

"No way!" she squeals and pulls me over to another stall that's caught her eye. "If you keep on yanking on my arm like that you'll eventually pull it off" I say while rolling my shoulder, making it a point to prevent her from doing so again. 

"Sorry" she laughs awkwardly and tries to check on me but I assure her I'm fine, choosing to direct her attention to the table she decided to pull me towards this time.

"Love potions? Really? Jayson is already head over heels for you Sadie, I doubt you'll need help keeping him around" I roll my eyes and try to move onto to the next stall but she pulls me back, gently this time thankfully, clearly enthralled with the concept.

"Not for me silly, for you!" she justifies and takes a closer look, making the mysterious and lowkey sketchy woman behind the table hopeful that she'll get another sucker to fall for her tricks. 

"Why would I need a love potion? Last time I checked there's not a man in my life that I'd want to fall in love with me" I say and she cocks a brow at me. "Bullshit" she says, using language that I've hardly every heard from her. 

"Someone's feisty today" I chuckle making her expression sour. "What? There's literally no guy I could think of that I'd want to use that on" I reiterate but we both know I'm lying. 

But I'm not gonna give that information up though even if she tries to beat it out of me.

"Whatever you say" she huffs and moves onto the next stall.

The rest of our time here is spent doing the same thing over and over again with Sadie trying to find something for Jayson and me just following along getting hungrier by the second as we inch closer and closer to the food stalls that are annoyingly full of food items that look like hearts and roses but I couldn't care less when they smell that good. 

"Alright come on dude I'm starving" I say when she's finished paying, still engaged in a conversation with the shop keeper that has been convincing her to buy too many useless things but it's no skin off my nose if she wants to use her daddy's money to buy that nonsense. 

"Hey! I was still talking to her" she whines but follows since after my not so subtle mention of needing sustenance she's starting to realize she's just as starving if not more than me when she see's that they're selling heart shaped waffles. 

"Okay but afterwards I want to check out a few more stalls!" she compromises and switches to pulling me along again to get in the ever growing line of hungry customers.

~~~~

After we've each successfully gained a food baby each Sadie pops around and looks at a few more stalls with me very much ready for a nap. 

But let's be honest, I'm always ready for a nap.

"Hey why don't you pull the car around and I'll check out the last few stalls on my own" she suggests but I know she's up to something. 

"Why?" I question watching her eyes shift over to a certain stall in particular. "That way it'll safe us a little bit of time and we can get out of here sooner" she explains but I sigh and agree, knowing the faster we get out of here, the better from my perspective at least. 

"I'll call you when I get closer to the entrance" I say and she smiles and waves me off while I make the trek back to her car on my own, having brought her car so I would have no means of escape.

When I finally pull up she hops in with at least two or three more bags than she had when I left. "What did you buy?" I ask but all I'm granted is a little giggle accompanied by a no where near suspicious 'Nothing' leaving me rolling my eyes for the last time tonight, knowing that her childlike excitement when it comes to these things truly is endearing to me, but she'll never know that. 

~~~~

Once Sadie unlocks the door to her apartment we both head over to the table to set down her countless purchases. 

"Did you really need another perfume?" I ask, holding up the pink ish stained glass bottle to the light leaving her taking it out of my hands and putting it back on the table. "It's not perfume it's room mist. It's supposed to make the space feel more romantic" she says, giving a shortened version of the sales pitch she no doubt got. 

"Right...romantic" I chuckle knowing that it'll probably just be a cheaply made lightly scented mist that's supposed to be all natural with health benefits too but I won't burst her bubble on this one since I know there's enough romance to spare when it comes to her and Jayson. 

I swear I can barely stand being alone with them but luckily that's gotten a little better lately. 

"I should probably get going soon" I say looking at the clock after I've helped her put everything away for safe keeping, code word for away from Jayson's prying eyes. "Wait why?" she pouts, "I thought you were gonna stay for movie night" she says as if I just told her that she can't wear pink on Wednesdays. 

"I don't wanna watch a movie with you and your boyfriend" I cringe at the idea of being left in a room with those two. "Yeah but he's bringing J-" she starts to argue but is cut off by a rhythmic knock on her front door making her expression go from sulking to smug.

"Can you get the door?" she asks and goes back to the kitchen to get the movies snacks ready. "I'm not your butler S" I call back out but my only response is her happily humming and completely ignoring me. 

I walk over to the door and open it with Jayson's hand raised up about to knock again which he luckily doesn't because he wouldn't knocked on my forehead instead. 

"Impatient are we?" I ask and lean against the doorway, making his efforts of seeing Sadie last a little while longer. "Hi y/n, is Sadie around?" he chuckles, glad he didn't accidentally make an enemy of me tonight. "I mean this is her apartment" I say and he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. 

"Yeah I guess you're right" he says making me smirk, knowing I'm playing to scary best friend role perfectly. Looks like he took the threat of me castrating him if he ever hurt Sadie pretty seriously still. "In the kitchen" I say and widen the door, letting him slip past me but when I go to close it I'm met with another person trying to come in right behind him.

"Hey y/n" his deep voice says, no doubt trying to play it cool since he's probably heard that story before as well. "Didn't know you were coming" I say, my tone neutral as I widen the door for him. 

"Yeah Jayson said something about a movie night? I heard you were gonna be here so I thought I'd tag along...if that's alright with you of course" Jungkook say, backtracking and clearly embarrassed for admitting that he wanted to see me.

"I mean it's a free country" I shrug my shoulders and close the door, with him waiting for me to lead the way even though he's been here quite a few times already since Sadie and Jayson got together. "Right" he chuckles, not adding much more than that, letting the conversation die.

"Hi baby" Jayson says making Sadie giggle and I avert my eyes before I have to witness another kiss of theirs leaving me bumping into Jungkook's chest, not having expected him to be that close. With him as a result wrapping his arm around me to make sure I don't stumble from the impact. 

"Sorry I-" he says but I just unwrap his arm around my waist. "It's fine. I was just a little too dramatic in trying to save myself from witnessing their love" I roll my eyes leaving Sadie pouting but I can tell she's clearly satisfied with seeing Jungkook and I so close. 

"Makes sense" he said and rubs the back of his neck and watches as I make my way over to the couch with him soon following my lead. 

He's been like this almost since the beginning once he realized that my moody exterior wasn't aimed at him just because he was a stranger but was just a part of my character. Although I'm pretty sure I still make him nervous, he doesn't seem to mind it anymore.

Just like clockwork he sits on one side of the couch while I sit on the other, never crossing spacial boundaries unless necessary or out of convenience like that one time I got roped into sitting in the middle in the backseat next to him on our trip to the beach since we needed more space for the stuff we brought with us. 

Curse you Sadie and your tiny car. 

I don't even know why we ended up taking her car since it's the smallest out of the four of ours but alas. The result of which was Jungkook's arm draped across the back seat to offer me some more space with me eventually falling asleep on him. Resulting in me lowkey avoiding him after the fact until I realized how ridiculous I was being.

Sadie had also been guilt tripping me at that time about how sad he had been and how lonely he looked hanging out with just her and Jayson and so I finally gave in, knowing I couldn't do this forever. Plus it wasn't like it was his fault or anything. Swimming always makes me sleepy and I should've warned him about that. 

He didn't make it a big deal about it when I came back thankfully since I already had to deal with enough teasing from my often merciless best friend so we were luckily able to act as though it never happened. Although ever since then it's happened quite a few times...

"Hey Jungkook do you think you could let me use the arm rest tonight?" Jayson calls out sounding not in the slightest bit suspicious but all of us know what he's doing and Sadie clearly has clearly put him up to it.

"Oh um" Jungkook starts but when he not so subtly glances over in my direction I decide to just put the boy out of his misery. "You can use mine. Sadie and I can sit in the middle" I say resulting in me having to sit next to Jungkook for the next two or so hours.

When I glance at him I can see how the new seating arrangement has made him nervous and so I decide to torture the boy a little. "As long as that's okay with you Jungkook?" I ask, tilting my head at him which has him nervously glancing back over at me before clearing his throat and practically squirming him his seat before nodding 'yes'. 

"Perfect!" Sadie says and with the help of Jayson brings over all the snacks and presses play on the pre approved movie from our group chat debate.  

~~~~

As the movie drags on I watch my vision go in and out of focus, leaving me shaking my head in an effort to try and wake myself up. "You okay?" Jungkook whispers and I hum. "Just a little sleepy" I respond assuring him I'm alright. He hums back and adjusts his posture, draping his arm around the couch, as a not so subtle invitation for me to lean on him.

The corner of my mouth turns up at that and I can tell that he noticed it, making him not as nervous about his offer anymore.

The dynamic between Jungkook and I has been...peculiar to say the least. 

I wouldn't consider him a close friend or even a friend really. Maybe more like a friend by proxy since we do end up spending a lot of time together. With both of our best friends insisting that the two of us tag along with neither of us having the real desire to tell them no. 

We've had a good conversation here and there when Sadie and Jayson are wrapped up in their own little world but I won't lie to you when I say that there have been some days or nights where we just sit in silence, watching the love birds do what they do.

If you ask me though it's never felt awkward. Has he been awkward and nervous? Yes. But it doesn't really bother me either. 

I wouldn't say that I seek out his company but I can't say that I don't feel a little disappointed when he's not around. More like there's something missing because obviously someone is missing, plus I'm forced to pay more attention to the two of them if it's just me.

It's times like that when he works up the courage to text me. Explaining why he wasn't able to make it as though he felt obligated to do so but he makes sure to offer me an ear when I want to complain about the nonsense those two get up to or what they managed to rope me into.

He sends funny memes to cheer me up, somehow knowing my sense of humor perfectly or complains to me in return about how boring and monotonous his job can be making me smile when he tells me he has to go because his boss is watching. As though he was a nervous teenager that couldn't spend a second away from his crush.

He couldn't have a crush on me could he? No, no that's not right. 

I let my thoughts of Jungkook drift off, the low hum of the TV soon lulling me to sleep resulting in me leaning against him, with him adjusting his posture to make it more comfortable for me, his arm soon migrating from resting on the back of the couch to loosely around my waist.

Something I've always noticed when I wake up though is that he's so comfortable. As though being this close to him feels natural. I will admit that when I've partially stirred awake and realized what I'd done I don't make an effort to wake up or pull away, indulging in the comfort for just a little while longer.

I feel bad though for the times that I wake up and he has to leave right away or when Sadie pulls me over and let's me lay on her lap to continue sleeping, making it a little easier for him to head out. It's as though he waits until the very last minute just to let me sleep a little while longer, not wanting to disturb me for as long as he can.

Tonight isn't one of those nights though, the ones where he has somewhere to go or some place to be. 

He just stays there, being as still as he can, letting me cuddle up to him as little or as much as I want to, eventually helping me lay my head down on his lap once Jayson and Sadie turn in for the night. The position being the slightest bit more comfortable this time with me eventually waking up three hours after the movie had finished.

My head is resting on his upper thigh, with my face basically buried into his torso but he doesn't seem to mind when I turn onto my back and see him absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. 

"What time is it?" I mumble, slightly startling him but he smiles at my groggy state soon after. "One thirty" he mumbles back, keeping his voice down so he doesn't force me awake too quickly. 

"You could've woken me up" I say, slowly sitting up and stretching before straightening out my appearance just the slightest bit. "I didn't have anywhere to be so I thought I'd just let you sleep" he shrugs and I hum. "Plus you seemed pretty exhausted so I thought you could use the rest" he adds and I can't help but give him a soft, hardly conscious smile. 

"Thanks" and he just smiles back at me. We sit there for a little while, and he eventually hands me a bottle of water that's on the coffee table to hopefully help me wake up but after a while I sigh and rest back back against the couch again. 

"What?" he chuckles, sensing my struggle. "Sadie was supposed to give me a ride home" I huff, realizing the predicament I've been put in, just because I wanted to get some shut eye. 

"I can give you a ride" he chuckles, seeing the clear solution but I shake my head. 

"I can't just keep you here and use you as my human pillow then have you give me a ride home as well" I counter but he just smiles. "It's really not a big deal" he counters and I sigh again, knowing he's probably not gonna take no for an answer. 

I can't help but get this...this indescribable feeling in my stomach that I so desperately want to ignore when I think about being alone with him. We are alone right now but that somehow seems...different.

"I have to go somewhere on your side of town anyways so your place is on my way" he says making me smile at his blatant lie. "At two in the morning?" I chuckle, checking my phone and quickly turning down the brightness so it won't blind me anymore.

"Yeah it's uh...open for twenty four hours" he say, making excuses to fit his claims. "You're lying to me aren't you?" I say, calling him out making him look down at his lap, slightly defeated seeing his excuse didn't work this time. 

"Yeah" he mumbles making me smile. "You could always just say that you want to give me a ride" I chuckle and from the way he clears his throat and looks away I can tell that that sentence has a completely different meaning to him than I had intended. 

"I um...I want to give you a ride...home. A ride home" he stammers, the whole interaction quite amusing to me. "Sure, I'd like that" I say and stand up with him getting up immediately, patting his pockets and making sure he has his keys. 

I grab my purse and make sure I have everything I need as well and when he sees that I didn't bring a warm jacket he gives me the other one he brought that he had put aside when he came in. "What's this for?" I ask, taking it suspiciously and draping it over my arm. 

"We're just walking to your car right? Pretty sure I don't need this for that short of a walk" I say and try to hand it back to him. He takes it back but instead wraps it around me and helps me put it on regardless, even going through the effort of zipping it up for me. 

"Trust me, you'll need it" he smiles softly after seeing how it fits me, clearly satisfied seeing me wearing something of his. 

"I look silly don't I?" I say, turning towards the full length mirror Sadie has in her entry way but he chuckles and shakes his head, standing behind me and looking at me through the reflection. 

"It looks perfect on you" he says just as soft as his smile and opens the door, urging for me to go in true gentlemanly like fashion leaving me rolling my eyes but going along with his efforts nonetheless. 

I lock up the apartment with my spare key and follow him as he leads me to what I had expected to be his usual black BMW but what I'm met with is an equally as black Harley Davidson with him unlocking the compartment in the back and handing me his spare helmet. 

This item although I don't take so willingly.

"You're joking right?" I scoff and cross my arms, the longer sleeves from his jacket by design giving me sweater paws making my stance a whole less defiant than I wanted. A pouty aura now stands in it's place.

"What? Never ridden a motorcycle before?" he smirks and walks over to me, choosing to put it on for me since he's pretty sure I wouldn't do it from my argument against this whole idea to begin with. 

"No I haven't and I don't plan to" I huff and try to take it off but he chuckles and holds it down against my head making me accept defeat with this part at least. Just because I put on the helmet doesn't mean I actually have to ride it. 

"You scared?" he chuckles, adjusting the strap under my chin and making sure it fits just right, smiling, satisfied with his work, amused with my soured expression. "I am not scared!" I argue and he smirks. 

"Then what's the problem sweetheart?" he says, his first time even daring to use a pet name with me catching me off guard. 

"The problem is, sweetheart, is that I don't wan't to. Those things are dangerous!" I argue and he smiles before putting his helmet on as well and taking my bag to place it in the back seat compartment and closes it. 

"Hey!" I argue when I realize what he's done, trying to get it back but it seems it locks automatically leaving my efforts sans key useless.

"Do you trust me?" he asks and my brows furrow, honestly not knowing the answer yet making me look away. "Y/n" he says, placing both of his hands on my shoulders and urging me to look at him leaving me ultimately relenting.

"Do you trust me?" he repeats, all the times I've let him in even in the slightest rushing through my psyche. Hell even just moments ago when I had been asleep and in a vulnerable state I trusted him to watch over me and so I nod my head. 

Admitting to him and myself that I've let him in, that I've let him break down these walls that I've built up even in the slightest making the sides of his eyes crinkle, the mask like helmet making it impossible to see his complete expression. 

"Good, now get on"

~~~~

I hold onto him as tight as I possibly can while he safely swerves between lanes and warns me when he's about to go around a bend and I can tell that everything about this predicament amuses him. 

"You know you can relax a little when we hit red lights" he calls out to me over the roar of the engine but my only answer is a quick 'Nope' while I grasp onto him tighter, his reactions always a dark chuckle that I can feel through his back that's pressed impossibly close to my chest the tighter I cling to him. 

At those red lights though he tends to remind me to keep my legs spread just a little wider, making sure I don't burn my calves on the hot metal of the bike. Placing both of his hands on my knees and spreading them a little wider. The act alone in this case is innocent but in others that I curse my mind for wandering to is anything but that.

"Hey" he calls out, the roar of his Harley no longer audible making his voice seem that much louder. "Yeah?" I ask, still completely clueless as to what he's trying to alert me to. "You can let go now" he chuckles, the sound no longer just felt but heard makes me pull back, so thankful his back is turned to me still.

"Sorry, I didn't realize we had gotten here already" I say and he shakes his head and pulls off his helmet before getting off and leaving me sliding down a little on the seat, loosing my balance and grabbing onto the handlebars. 

"I thought you said you didn't like motorcycles" he taunts and I huff. "I don't" I roll my eyes making him even more amused. "Really? Because you look like you're about to steal it from me" he points out, nodding towards my hands that are very much still on the handle bars. 

I let go of it as though I had burned myself and quickly getting off the bike, losing my balance and making Jungkook on instinct grabs my hips to keep me on my feet. 

After regaining my composure and realizing the predicament we're in leave me the one to call in back to reality. My hands although are still very much holding onto his biceps with his hands still gripping my hips with an almost bruising strength. 

I look up at him, seeing as he's looking down at me, an unreadable expression written on his face as though he was struggling with something leaving me really having to break him out of his train of thought. 

"Jungkook?" I say, loosening my grip on his arms. "Hmm?" he hums, still clearly lost in whatever thoughts had been holding him hostage, still looking at me but almost as if he couldn't focus on one feature. 

"Jungkook?" I say again, this time smiling and that breaks him out of it a bit more. "You can let go now" I laugh, leaving him blinking and letting go, taking a step back making both of our arms fall at our sides now. 

"Sorry um...are you okay?" he asks, remembering the fact that I almost fell on my ass. "I'm fine, are you?" I tilt my head at him leaving him looking away, a rosy tint deepening on his cheeks even in this twilight surrounding us. 

"Can you help me with this?" I ask after trying to struggle and get the helmet off leaving his mouth utter a inaudible 'oh' before stepping closer again and unbuckling the intricate strap under my chin. 

"See, home safe and sound" he chuckles after putting the helmets away and giving me my bag back. "Slightly traumatized but safe nonetheless" I say making the corner of his mouth turn up. 

"It wasn't that bad was it?" he asks with him now tilting his head at me, now understanding his reaction to when I do it. "Never make me do that again" I huff and turn to walk away and when I hear the sound of two sets of foot steps instead of one I turn around and watch as his steps stutter and come to a halt. 

"What?" he asks when he's met with a confused look. "What are you doing?" I ask and he's now the one rolling his eyes at me. "Walking you to the door?" he nods towards my front door making me cross my arms over my chest. 

"Why?" I cock my brow, "I'm perfectly capable of walking there myself" I argue but he looks down and chuckles. "I know, but I want to" he says when he looks back up at me, something about it making my heart flutter and therefore making me more susceptible to the whole idea. 

"Fine" I say and it's at that point I notice the fact that he had in fact planned this. Him having parked in a visitor parking space and going through the effort of taking his helmet off as well. Clearly showing me he had no intention of leaving right away making me turn around to hide the no doubt embarrassed expression on my face.

His footsteps trail behind me as I walk over to the stairs, choosing to not take the elevator because the thought alone of being in that small of a space with him seems intimidating enough. 

It's not like I'm on the fifth floor or something...just the third, making both of us slightly winded by the time we get to my door. 

He waits as I unlock my door and when I turn around he still doesn't look like he's in much of a rush to leave. "You gonna head home?" I ask, tossing my keys on the hooks next to my door and he smile. "You're not gonna invite me in?" he asks, nodding inside and I look back assessing the state of it and decide it's in an okay state to have visitors. 

"Do you wanna come inside?" I ask and he again clears his throat and looks away. Damn this boy has an even dirtier mind than I do. "Yeah um sure" he says, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears pink as if he wasn't the one that suggested this making me smile and walk in, leaving an open invitation. 

He follows soon after and closes the door behind him, quietly since it's about to be three in the morning so he doesn't feel like contributing to me getting an eviction notice. 

"It's been a while since you've been here huh?" I ask, grabbing both of us waters from the fridge with him nodding and taking it from me, making it a point to brush his fingers against mine before I pull back. 

"Yeah. It looks a little different" he says while taking in some things he hadn't noticed before, one of which being my little black cat that does a big stretch before walking over to him, smelling him and circling around his legs as if he was sizing him up. 

"I didn't know you had a cat" he says, leaning down and offering his hand down for him to get a little bit more familiar with his scent. "What's his name?" he asks, looking back up at me after having crouched down to pet him, seeing that he's taken a liking to him which surprises me to say the least. 

"Shadow" I say and I can't help but smile at the sight. "Hi Shadow" he coos again leaving me caught off guard when Shadow starts purring. "He really never takes a real liking to strangers, or at least not this quickly" I say and he smiles before standing back up, leaving me looking back up at him again. 

"I guess I'm just a likable guy" he jokes making me roll my eyes and sit down on the couch with him following after me. "You've got some pretty heavy duty curtains there" he points out, seeing my very dark, very black curtains to match my whole aesthetic.

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes so it's easier for me to keep as much light out that I can if I end up having to sleep during the day" I shrug and place my water down on the coffee table with him soon following after. 

"Is that why you're so sleepy all the time?" he asks making me hum, "Yeah, sorry about that" I apologize but he smiles and shakes his head. "There's nothing to be sorry about, I'm just glad I'm able to help you get some sleep sometimes" he says, his smile soon turning shy making him look away. 

His act of going in and out of shy to confident makes him that much more entertaining to me. With him although practically squirming under my gaze one second to practically giving me butterflies in the next. It's an interesting dynamic but one I don't put much thought into.

"Are you gonna have trouble sleeping tonight? You know with that long nap that you had" he says sheepishly as if he wasn't the one I had fallen asleep on. 

"Maybe, but I'm used to it" I shrug my shoulders and he nods, clearly trying to think through what he wants to say next but before he's able to a loud thunder clap resounds through my apartment, making me almost jump into his lap, the sudden sound catching me off guard.

"You alright?" he asks and I clear my throat awkwardly, and sit back, going back to my respective side of the couch. "Yup totally fine, completely fine actually. How are you doing?" I babble, clearly giving myself away which now is amusing him. 

"You're afraid of thunderstorms aren't you?" he asks, tilting his head at me and I nod, giving in right away because there's no use hiding this obvious answer. 

"Are you gonna be able to sleep through it?" he asks and although I know what he's gonna offer next I don't want to take advantage of his kindness especially since I don't want him to end up thinking I led him on because I can't make up my mind in the future.

"Probably not" I admit and he hums, thinking about it for a second before saying what I knew he was going to. "I could stay...if you want?" he asks, not wanting to overstep but sensing from my body language alone that I might need someone. 

"I-" "How about this. I don't really like the idea of riding my motorcycle in the middle of a thunderstorm so do you think you could offer me a place to stay for the night?" he asks, making me see that although I know he's doing this for me he does end up benefitting from it at least a little bit...or a lot a bit.

I think about it for a second and although I know I'm gonna say yes I can't help but hesitate. The thought of letting him stay making this whole thing I know we're starting to feel for each other that much more real.

"I guess it would be pretty shitty of me to kick you out in the rain huh?" I smile, wanting to add a little humor to the tension I clearly feel growing between us. "I mean it's your choice but I would really appreciate it if you didn't" he jokes making me smile. 

"You can stay on one condition" I say and he hums at that but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have it any other way. "You have to sleep in my bed. My couch is too short and I'd feel horrible if you woke up with a kink in your neck or something because of it" I say and he gives me a cheeky smile. 

"It would defeat the purpose if I slept anywhere else but with you. You know, so I can keep you calm through the storm?" he chuckles and I nod, glad that we're on the same page although for different reasons.

"Did you wanna borrow some clothes? I have some baggy sweats and your waist is pretty small from what I remember so they'd probably fit you" I ramble and I know at that point that I've said way too much when he gives me a wicked smile. 

"Have you been checking me out y/n?" he asks and scoots just a bit closer. "No, no I just remember from the few times we've gone to the beach together. You know, with Sadie and Jayson?" I make excuses but he's not buying it. 

"So you haven't been checking me out now but you did then?" his smile never leaving his face. 

"Did you want the clothes or not?" I scowl making him even more enticed to keep teasing but he hums in agreement and watches as I jump up from the couch. 

"Wait here" I say and he nods his head, resting his arm across the back of the couch and spreading his legs just a little wider than necessary with him shamelessly checking me out as much as I am with him. 

I scurry off to my room though, the thought of crossing anymore lines with him than I'm about to already is something I'm not ready for yet...yet? No! I'm not ready for period! I'm not ready for anything like that and I don't want to put a strain on our relationship if something ends up happening. 

I change and take some very much needed deep breaths before going back to the living room with the baggy set of clothes I had offered to him and see that he's started to explore. He takes a closer look at the pictures that I have hung up and zeroes in on one on my desk of Sadie and I in those aforementioned pictures I had mentioned. 

"You looked really different here" he chuckles and I walk over and put the picture frame face down, not wanting him to have to see that image for any longer. 

"I didn't have much of a choice back then. Plus you know that was the style back then" I explain and hand him the clothes before resting against the desk, making sure he doesn't try to look at it again.

He hums and takes the clothes making my eyes furrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask but he smiles and shakes his head. "Nothing" he says and places the clothes on the desk next to me. 

"What do you mean it's nothing? It has to be something if you're acting like that" I huff and glare at him as he looks away, clearly more amused at this situation than I can comprehend. "I just had an image in my head of you always dressing like you usually do" he says and looks down at me, making me realize just how little space is left between us.

"How do I usually dress?" I ask, knowing the answer but wanting him to elaborate, wanting to know exactly what he thinks about the way that I dress. "You know, all dark and scary" he smirks and places both of his hands on either side of my hips on the desk, leaning down to my height making me back away from him. 

"You think I'm scary?" I scoff and look away, trying to hide how much his close proximity has caught me off guard. "I used to" he hums making me look at him, his honesty although obvious is peculiar to admit at this point. 

"And now?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper making the corner of his mouth upturn but before he's able to respond another roar of thunder smashes us out of our "Moment" if you could even call it that. Embarrassingly forcing me to cling onto him as if my life depended on it, with him on instinct wrapping his arms around my waist to keep me steady, now realizing just how scared I truly am.

"Hey, it's okay, you're okay" he says in a hushed tone, pulling me even closer, him feeling the rapid beating of my heart through my chest. 

He rests his head on top of mine with me practically trying to crawl into his chest with how close I'm trying to be and he finds it endearing to say the least. "You're safe, I got you" he says, after another one roars, making me cling onto him, practically shaking at this point. 

"How do you know?" I mumble against his chest and he pushes me away and leans down so he could be at my level. I look away again, this time trying to hide how completely embarrassed I am for being so scared of something that I know is silly but I can't help it. 

He tilts his head trying to catch my glance and when that doesn't work he cups my cheek and brings me back over to him but even then in my stubbornness when I still won't look at him he tilts my chin up and I finally relinquish to his efforts. 

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you" he says softly and I nod before going back in, knowing that at the end of the day he's the one who's gonna keep me safe. 

No matter what he's always gonna be there for me...and that's what scares me.

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[no1blacksapphirefan]

Just found your self aware cookies. I love it. How would the ancients react to reader kissing their screen in the little cookie area(where you level them up and such) because this is something I'm a liiiiitle guilty of :3 (you can add the beasts if you want!!)

These requests were rather similar so here���s you go 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ ((TY!! I’m okay :D A5 Black Sapphire coming in my next 10 pull I can feel it in my bones))

Pure Vanilla seems like the type to be so bashful. He's a blushing mess as soon as you look away from the screen. Fixing his outfit, sure the hug isn't as effective due to the barrier of the screen, but he still felt it and the kiss.

As time goes on, methinks he's started thinking about what it would be like to actually kiss you. To actually hug you back without a screen being in the way. He tries to brush this thought off. He can't even get out...is there a way out?

He ignores the stares of other cookies as they see him get this affection from you, ahh he's so lucky to have you favour him so much.

White Lily is surprised when it started, don't get me wrong. She is not complaining. She loves the hugs and blushes a lot when or if you kiss her. But she is still getting used to how affectionate you are towards her despite her past.

She buries her head in her hands to cover up her blush when you first kissed her through the screen, unable to contain herself, and when you leave the game she can't help but smile. It's a nice feeling really, to have someone love you as much as you do, to have someone who doesn't ignore the horrible things she has done but still loves her.

Dark Cacao finds it weird at first. He can feel the hugs and kisses through the screen sure but he isn't too sure what to think when you first started other then...why?

He's scared of affection stop.

Eventually though, after days of you doing this he gets used to it, almost expecting it when you go to his cookie screen. He doesn't smile, well tries not to smile. He doesn't want to freak you out that he knows. He enjoys your affection a lot, it brightens up his day when you do so almost every time.

Golden Cheese As you should/j She loves it, you should do it more often. If she could encourage you to do it more often she would. Oh and she wants to reciprocate so much, but she can't.

She tries her best though, by trying extra harder in arena fights or just in word exploration. She'll win you as many trophies as you want to ensure a high ranking on the leader board. Just for you <33

Hollyberry She wishes there wasn't a screen between the two of you, she is so happy when you first start, to have such affection from you makes her so proud of herself. She doesn't brag to others or anything, or at least not intentionally.

She'll talk to her friends about what you've done with a happy expression. Sometimes she may talk about it too much though...she's just extremely happy to receive these affections from you.

Shadow Milk Huh? You wha- Did you just-

Those run through Shadow Milks head the first time you did it, sure he's always liked your attention on him and enjoyed the silly ways you show it but this...was WAY more direct then others. And you're still oblivious!!

Everytime you do it, he feels like he's gonna turn into mush, he's never felt this loved before. Having someone making him feel like he isn't actually alone and someone is there that cares for him so, it makes him all giddy and smiley. Though he'd rather die than admit that to certain people.

If people try to bring it up, he puts on his facade and brags about it, saying things like "As they should!~" and the sort. But once he's alone he can't help but gently smile, waiting for the next time you do it. Oh he's so excited to meet you one day...

Mystic Flour cherishes your hugs and kisses as if it were an actual physical object. As if they'll disappear. She didn't get it at first, these strange actions you did. It wasn't like she didn't know what it was. She's hugged her friends all the time in the past. Hugged Cloud Haetae before and kissed his forehead when he needed comfort.

But you doing it to her felt...strange. Maybe it was because she's so used to people asking things of her and not often getting thanks for it. She isn't used to you hugging or kissing her. She finds it oddly amusing that you still do it even while thinking she's still some code...because you still like her? Very well, she doesn't have any ill feelings towards your actions, the opposite. She looks forward to it every day, your hugs especially.

Burning Spice at first he disliked it, well he thought he did anyways. He's meant to be the Great Destroyer! Feared by many, you should as well-...oh but the hugs are nice...and the kiss- WHO SAID THAT.

Quickly though he grows to love them, he sees it as high praise for what he's done, especially as you're essentially a higher being. Oh he loves the affections from you, though he prefers the more "odder" ones, this is also something he loves.

He'll make sure to pay it forward as soon as he breaks out, he'll kiss you twice as much!! Hug you harder as well. You make things less boring when you're around after all, have to thank you for making things entertaining.

Black Sapphire oh he loves loves it. Doesn't matter if you do it because perhaps he did a good job in the arena or because you just like him. He appreciates every single little affection you have for him. From the hugs, the tapping to the kisses.

He might...just mayybbeeee broadcast what happened on his radio show, one of the few truths he'll have. He'd love to see some cookies deny this, especially if they knew he was known for his rumours. Others seemingly becoming jealous. He relishes in that, like "Yes, they did actually do that. They love me that much"

Overall, I think it'll slightly boost his ego if you did it, and consistently. His mic watching you as you're on the cookie screen, silently hoping for another hug or kiss

[adamsrcnan]

at some point i WILL write a jean/cat/laila pov of jeremy's faser hook up

because like do you think the room was really quiet and intense that night? laila and cat doing their best to keep it light but jean noticeably quiet and watching the door waiting for jeremy to come back. until he eventually gives up and says he's going to sleep and then laila gets jeremy's text and jean pretends to be sleeping but he hears her quietly saying she needs to go get jeremy and he can hear the disapproval and disappointment in her tone. jean hears cat say she'll watch over him until laila gets back and then laila's gone and it's just cat and jean and jean closes his eyes and tries to sleep. pretends he doesn't care. laila will bring jeremy back. everything's fine.

but it's not.

because there's still missing truths and there's the teasing about drugs and parties and jean said he would protect jeremy tonight. but he let him leave. he couldn't force him to stay. what else was he supposed to do. then he hears a quiet knock. cat's up in a second but the door opens. jean gets up too but stays out of sight. he can hear their voices. cat's "what the fuck jeremy?" is all he needs before he's moving, catching sight of bruises on jeremy's tanned skin. it looks wrong. it looks ugly. it looks painful.

he promised to protect him. he didn't.

[thistlerock]

Fabian trying to cook or bake (horrible and awful) and Riz letting him do his thing (he wants to figure it out himself. Something about change. Something about independence.) while eating his failed attempts so nothing goes to waste (because truly no amount of burned or undercooked will stop Riz Gukgak from chowing down). I think this is love.

They spend the afternoon that way, it's summer and for once the fate of the world doesn't seem to rest upon their shoulders. Maybe next week, but not today. Riz is sitting on the counter already prepping schoolwork for his next year because he's like that and he only looks up to taste test (no tie or vest; his briefcase holds his arquebus like usual but it's resting at the table, so far away that it'd take him several precious seconds to reach it. Maybe that means something. If Fabian understands that then he doesn't address it.) (I think this is love.)

Fabian is someone that rarely shuts up, it's like he has to fill the space because silence makes him uncomfortable (and maybe he also enjoys listening to himself talk a little bit), but he's quietly focused this time. When he finally gets it right and shares with Cathilda she praises him like she always does but this time it feels bigger. She'll smile and make him bend down so she can kiss his forehead and they'll have a nice supper and maybe he remembers to buy her flowers for Mother's Day next time. I think this is love.

(Hallariel might notice, she might not. Sometimes she gets better about paying attention to him and sometimes she gets worse, the baby and Gilear have been holding most of her attention lately. It's understandable, in a way, and there's a way in which it's really not. Fabian eventually learns not to chase after her no matter how much he wants to. All this yearning is for naught. I think this is still love. It's just that love alone isn't enough, love without commitment is something that feels very cruel. I think he learns to focus on the love that comes without drawbacks; I don't know if she ever learns to love without them.)

Riz sleeps over just because. Cathilda doesn't question it. The Hangman doesn't question it. Fabian has his best friend's night time rituals memorised, he doesn't really get it but he's glad that Riz feels comfortable enough to be weird and feel safe. I think this is love.

I think he says so, I think Riz says it back.

(Obligatory hi, to me this post is not about romance. I think Fabian has girlfriends and sometimes boyfriends, right now it's Mazey and he really likes her. I think Riz is his best friend and always stays by his side. I think they love each other. Wouldn't kiss, wouldn't date, would hold each other and fall asleep after a long day. Something something, they're queerplatonic but Fabian doesn't know that word yet and Riz hasn't brought it up.)

(That said, equally obligatory I have nothing against romantic fabriz enjoyers if you like them we're cool if you wanna read this that way we're also cool. Don't care.)

This is vaguely a oneshot I was gonna write but I've lost my passion for it. But the idea was still nice and I do still think about it. I think about Fabian and all the love in his life, and then I think that whatever he and Riz have going on and the way he's literally Cathilda's actual son talk to the wall are my favourites.

[solarmorrigan]

Steve Harrington is absolutely the sort of person to become emotionally dependent on a pet. He grew up lonely and he loves taking care of things, and here's this creature that loves him unconditionally and is dependent on him for care? He's a goner

He finds a kitten in his backyard, wet and cold and alone, but in pretty good shape, all things considered. It hisses and swipes at him, but it's also mewing pathetically, and Steve can't just leave it, so he manages to get the thing inside with minimal blood loss (all his) and cleans it up and feeds it. It's a lot more amenable to the idea of Steve once it's warm and dry and full, and by the end of the day, it's curled up and purring in the crook of his neck, and Steve is already prepared to die for this thing

He does recognize that the right thing to do is to ask around and see if anyone is missing a kitten, which he does do, but no one on his street or the next one over lays claim to it, and there aren’t any kind of wanted posters going up for it, so Steve decides he is now the proud owner of a cat

He names her Baby and dotes on her accordingly. (In his defense, the name is Robin's idea; she tells him that he treats the cat enough like a baby, so the name might as well fit. Steve's always been shit at coming up with names, so he just goes with it)

Baby is the world's most spoiled cat, which Steve readily admits. But isn't that what cats are for? She's a wonderful cat and she clearly deserves nice things and Steve is going to get them for her. Toys, treats, a plush cat bed, the best food, whatever he thinks she could possibly need or want. If "I work hard so my cat can live a better life" t-shirts had existed in the 80s, Robin probably would have gotten one for him and he probably would have worn it

Of course, it helps that Baby actually does adore Steve. With everyone else, she ranges from frosty to outright hostile (she's taken a particular dislike to Eddie, of all people, which is unfortunate, because Steve really, really likes Eddie); she'll consent to be admired, and she'll accept treats, and she might even let more familiar people pet her, but in the end she is very much Steve's baby. If he's home, she's stuck to his side like a burr, curled up wherever he is and purring away, content just to be with him. She still snuggles up in the crook of his shoulder at night, just like when she was a kitten, even though she's bigger now and is a bit less easily accommodated

It goes without saying that Baby is strictly an indoor cat. Steve lives right up against the woods and there are predators out there, and people in town drive like assholes, and Steve won't take the chance of her being eaten or run over or meeting some other horrible fate. He really doesn't think his heart could take it

But of course, because all cats are terrible bastards at heart (affectionate), Baby darts out the back door one day as Steve is coming in off the patio, chasing after some other small animal that Steve can't even see, and she's out of the backyard and up towards the trees before Steve can do much more than make a grab for her

And Steve, who has survived interrogations and monster attacks and many situations objectively much more stressful than this, does not panic. He does spend half the night wandering around in the trees with a flashlight, shaking a bag of cat food and calling for Baby, but that's not panicking, that's problem solving

He eventually gets too cold and too tired to keep going and has to pack it in for the night. He holds onto some shred of hope that she'll be waiting by the back door when he wakes up, wondering why the hell it's taken so long for him to come let her in, but apparently that's not the way life works, because the patio and all areas around the house are still distinctly catless come daybreak

Eddie shows up sometime mid-morning, just as Steve is preparing to head back out and look for her. He has genuinely never seen Steve so upset; he looks like he might actually cry if he doesn't find that damn cat, which just isn't something that Steve does. But he's actually fucking distraught, and Eddie simply can't have that, even if Baby is his nemesis, so he goes to the phone and makes some calls

He cashes in on favors, he makes promises, he actually agrees to pay Mike ten bucks to show up, but he gets the kids, all the older teens (the only reason Robin hadn't been there already is because Steve hadn't paused long enough to tell her what was going on), and even the Corroded Coffin boys up to Steve's house to comb the woods for Steve's damn cat

It's Eddie who finds her in the end, a shock of pale, mewling fur actually stuck in a fucking tree. The cliche nearly kills him – either that or trying to climb down a tree one-handed while holding a cat. He's surprised she actually lets him pick her up, but then again, she's been out here all night, she's cold, and at least she recognizes Eddie. Maybe this is the beginning of a truce

Or, she might go back to hissing and swiping at Eddie any time she the mood takes her, but Eddie doesn't even care, because Steve is elated to have Baby back, so fucking happy that he doesn't even seem to notice that she's digging her claws into his arm as she clings to him for dear life all the way back to the house. Eddie will deal with anything that Steve loves that much

Steve pays for pizza to thank everyone for putting their Saturday on hold to search-and-rescue a cat, and everyone warms up and eats their fill before slowly filtering back out of the house. And later, after Baby's been cleaned up and fed and properly doted on and is purring away curled up over a heating vent in the living room, Steve takes Eddie upstairs to show his thanks in a much more thorough manner

After all – Baby is very important to him, and he's more relieved than he can say to have her back, but she isn't the only thing that Steve adores

[whisperofwonder]

The Best Medicine

Kageyama Tobio x reader - 1k words

Your daughter is sick. Kageyama stays home with her.

Reader is referred to as "mommy"

"She'll be fine," Tobio assures you. "I'll be here with her all day."

"I know," You sigh. Ever since you left work early yesterday to pick your daughter up from daycare, you've been fussing over her. It's just a fever and a cough, something that the doctor assured you will go away on its own with some medicine and time, but you can't help but worry just a little. It makes sense for Tobio to stay with her today - it's the off season, and he doesn't have any training scheduled. You're the one in the middle of a big project at work.

"I just gave her more medicine," You continue as you gather your things for work, "And it should keep her knocked out for a bit. The rest is good for her." You're saying it as much for yourself as for Tobio's benefit. He nods along anyway. "Just remember to have her eat a little something when she takes the next dose," You add as you pull on your coat.

"I will. Don't worry," He says more firmly, gripping your shoulders and looking you in the eye, forcing you to stop moving for just a moment. "We'll be just fine here. If anything comes up, I'll give you a call right away."

"Okay." You manage a smile. "Thanks, Tobio."

"Of course. I love you," He leans in for a peck before he releases you.

"I love you too," You reply on your way out the door, "I'll see you later."

With that, you're gone, and Tobio turns back into the quiet house. He doesn't have much lined up for the morning, he just starts a load of laundry and then settles on the couch with a replay of a recent match on the quietest setting. He takes a few notes every now and then.

Eventually, lunch time draws near. After heating up a quick meal for himself, he's slotting his few dishes in the dishwasher when he hears the call.

"Mommy!" Your daughter whimpers, and he closes the dishwasher, making his way to her room before she has a chance to call out again. It's just about time for her next round of medicine, anyway.

"Hi, baby," He says gently, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from her forehead. She's still warm, but the fever has definitely gone down.

"Want Mommy," She insists, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.

"Mommy's at work," He reminds her. You'd said goodbye to her this morning right before you left. "She'll be home later." She doesn't look pleased, but she doesn't say another word. "Are you a little hungry?" He asks, changing the subject.

"No," She shakes her head.

"Not even for some applesauce?" He asks as he gently tugs the blanket off of her. "It will help the medicine make you all better."

She hesitates for a moment. "Kay," She agrees quietly. He picks her up, carrying her to the kitchen. If she weren't sick, she would have scrambled out of bed and darted down the hallway on her own. It's clear she's still not feeling like herself.

After the snack of applesauce and dose of medicine, he lifts her to his hip again, prepared to tuck her back in bed. Her eyes are already drooping. In her room, he moves to lay her back down on the pillow, but she clings to his neck.

"No, Daddy," She whimpers into his chest.

"I'll read you a story," He suggests, settling down on the edge of the bed with her still in his arms.

"Don't wanna story." She shakes her head, scrubbing a fist at her eye. "Wanna watch TV."

He sighs and softens. "Okay," He agrees. In the living room, he puts on one of her favorite shows. He moves to set her down on the couch, but she clings to him again.

"No," She shakes her head.

"No?" He echoes, then settles her on his lap. "Alright." If she wants to stay close to him so badly, how can he say no to that? She leans against him, soft and warm in his arms, entranced by the colorful animations on the screen and clutching her bunny.

The older she gets, the less interested she has become in sitting still and cuddling. It seems she's always on the move, running around and playing. It isn't often that he gets to just hold her like this.

His eyes wander from the screen down to her, eyes drooping again as she slips her thumb in her mouth. Just this once, he decides to let it slide. She's getting so big. Sometimes he doesn't even realize how quickly. Soon enough she'll be off to school, maybe joining sports or the band, spending time with all of the new friends she'll make. She won't be his little girl who fits in his arms like this forever - he should savor this moment.

Time blurs by as he holds her, half-paying attention to the show as one short episode turns to another, half-dozing himself. He doesn't even realize how long it's been until he hears the door open.

"I'm home!" You say as you step inside. It isn't long before you find them in the living room, your daughter cradled against Tobio's chest. He smiles at you, and your daughter stirs against him, woken by the slight commotion.

"Hi my love," You coo at her, "How are you feeling?" She only hums in response, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Why don't we let Daddy get up?" You ask, reaching for her.

"Hm-mm," She shakes her head, snaking her arms around his neck again and burying her face against him. You look at him with wide, surprised eyes, and he can only return the expression. Earlier, she'd pouted because you weren't there. He's just as taken aback.

"Well," Your expression softens as you whisper, "I guess you had a good day with Daddy then." You lean in to kiss him, and he returns it. "How long have you been sitting here?" You ask.

"A few hours," He estimates, "But I don't mind." He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "She'll be begging for you before you know it," He predicts, and you shake your head with a smile. You both know he's right. For now, if snuggles with Daddy are what she wants, how can you deny her?

[startaegi]

CHAPTER 001 . . .

previous next masterlist playlist

The day seemed to pass slowly. You spent most of it watching the hours tick by. Midnight at Hangang Bridge the robotic voice had said when calling the unknown number two days ago, a number from a card you'd received from a well dressed man in Sinchon station. Your face was still slightly bruised from that interaction, you had never been the best at playing ddakji. It was 30 minutes until 12 and you knew if you didn't leave now, you wouldn't make it on time. As risky as it was you weren't missing out on the opportunity to potentially win life changing money.

You unplugged your phone from the charger and switched off the broken lamp that did nothing to light your room. The apartment was small, all contained in one room minus the bathroom but it was the best you could get with what you have. You slipped on your shoes, eyes scanning the place one last time and eventually landing on the fridge. The note she had left was still there, her messy handwriting followed by little hearts in the corner, you could picture her folded over the kitchen island, a little smile on her face as she doodled her love onto the page. You missed her more than anything.

You quickly pulled yourself together closing the door behind you. A noise to the left startled you, keys almost falling from your hands. The sweet lady who owned the building with her son was hiding herself from view of the streets, the curtains slightly moving from the wind. "Hi, Ajumma" You called.

She turned with a smile on her face, backing away from the window. "Oh hello love" She replied. 

"Are you okay?" You questioned. It wasn't like her to be roaming around the halls so late in the night especially at her age.

"I don't want to worry you" She said hesitantly. You froze, mind instantly going to Hyunju. Did she finally come by? "Those same men where outside again, no good for nothing they are" She seethed.

Your heart sank. "Oh"

"I've been keeping an eye on them just in case but looks like they're gone now" She said, walking alongside you towards the exit. "You're leaving late? Everything okay?" She asked.

You nodded. "Going to visit a friend for a while, i'll be back in time for rent payments" You assured her, the last thing you needed was to be evicted.

She patted your shoulder affectionately. "Don't worry about that, you go have a nice time" She smiled. "You deserve it"

You paused for a second, words caught in your throat. "If-" You started. "If you see Hyunju can you tell her i'll be back soon? Tell her not to go anywhere, please" You practically begged. It would be just your luck, the moment you leave she would appear again.

Her eyes softened, a look of sympathy flashed across her face. She nodded, caressing your shoulder again. "Of course I will sweetheart. You still haven't heard from her?" She questioned.

You shook your head. It had been 30 days, an entire month since you last seen the one good thing in your life. You were left with a text message, one you'd read more times than you could count, one you could recite by heart if asked. She was leaving but she'd be back soon. At first you were angry, how dare she leave you after everything you'd been through together, with just a message through a screen. Then the days turned to weeks and your anger became worry. Where was she? Why wasn't she returning your calls or texts? You didn't want to expect the worst but in the country you lived as the people you both are, being alone wasn't a good idea. You lost sleep, your headaches not that you thought they could, somehow became worse. Your medication bottles became empty and your pockets just the same. You only hope she'll be back by the time you return and this time you'll have a bank balance enough to get you out of this place.

You finally left the building when another resident entered, distracting the older woman and making your exit, but of course not forgetting to say goodbye. The rain was heavy, bouncing against the cracked pavements. The silence is eerie. The broken street lamps flicker casting shadows on the wet pavements, your jacket doesn't have a hood leaving your hair to get drenched by the midnight drizzle. You scan the roads, no cars or people in sight. An overwhelming feeling of anxiety washes over you, a familiar sensation that mostly greets you in the night.

You don't have time to dwell on it as a beam of headlights approach you. A silver car pulls up beside you, the passenger side window rolls down. You're taken back at the person sat in the driver seat, face concealed by a black mask. They're also wearing a pink suit, their entire body hidden.

"Name?" The masked person questions.

"Y/N L/N" You reply, droplets of rain falling against your open lips.

They don't reply instead the back door clicks open. You quickly slide into the empty seat shielding yourself from the rain. You push the wet hair from your eyes only then noticing other people sat in the seats around you, seemingly asleep.

"Uh, excuse me?" You ask the masked driver. "What's-" You stop mid sentence, suddenly it becomes harder to breathe and a mysterious mist fogs your eyesight. You struggle to move your mouth, your entire body feels heavy. You feel the jolt of the car starting again and before you know it you're being sent into a slumber completely unaware of the hell that awaits you.

previous next masterlist playlist

note . . . hi welcome to my first fic on here! i haven’t written anything in years but i couldn’t not write something for my girl bcos she deserves all the love. anyways enjoy, i hope it isn’t too bad!! layout inspo belongs to @ourseasone

taglist . . . let me know if u wanna be added!

[ashen-char]

take my pure 🔞

my masterlist, to check out my other works, is here

ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader (reader has a penis bc of the g!p request but i kept it gn bc the other request used "they")

warnings: explicit smut, losing virginity, reader has a penis

summary: max is more than happy to be your first - to ensure that your first time is perfect, to show you how good it can be.

word count: 3700+

notes: knocking out a few requests with this one. g!p request here, and requests for reader's first time w max here and here. g!p won the poll so i hope to write things like this more often for you guys! ALSO written as a happy bday gift to my 100th follower <3

Max has done her best to be patient with you. Respectful of the fact that, yknow, you're inexperienced. That you want to take things slow. You're not the type to rush into stuff headfirst like Max is. You know she's done more, that she wants you. It's kinda sweet how she asks you if you're OK even if you're doing something as simple as making out, just because she doesn't want to scare you off. 

"Hey, babe?" Max asks you one day, while you two are cuddling on her bed. Her hands stroke at your stomach, fingers slightly grazing down and playing with the waistband of your boxers. "I was thinking, like... what's the farthest you've ever gone with someone?"

Your eyes widen with the question since it seemed so out of the blue. Then again, Max always said what was on her mind, be that normal or not. "Uh, well, we've made out a bunch, obviously," you tell her.

"Right." The way she pauses lets you know that Max wants you to keep going, that you haven't answered what she wants to hear.

You keep your eyes on Max's, watching if she's at all uncomfortable or jealous with the answer. You want to be honest, but not make her upset. "Besides that, I guess me and my last girlfriend... touched a little. Like, under the bra. She tried to cop a feel of my junk once, but I shut that down." You frown at the memory. The rest of that hang-out was awkward, and you felt bad, but you weren't ready. You don't regret standing your ground though.

"Just under the bra, huh? That's it?" she teases. It's like Max knew you were getting in your head, because one of her hands comes up and cups your face. You lean into it. Turn your head and press a kiss to her palm.

Your arm goes to pull Max in, wanting her closer. She relaxes you. You've never really had that before. Past relationships were all filled with nerves and uncertainty. Max makes everything feel obvious, especially with how confident she is, even when she messes up.

"I kinda regretted moving away back then. Like, it felt good," you admit. "But no one else had ever touched it but me, so I was a little too nervous to go further." That moment didn't feel right. Now you know that it was because your ex was the wrong girl. She wasn't as awesome and right for you as Max.

Max giggles softly, pressing against you and letting you pull her against you. "Not lame at all, babe," she assures, her hand moving lower, tracing patterns on your abdomen. You resist the urge to flex, knowing she'll tease you for trying to impress her. You can't help how nervous she still makes you. How cool you want her to think you are. "It's... cute, actually. Makes me feel special, you know? That I'll get to be your first."

First. It used to be a daunting thought. Exes pushing you, saying it wasn't a big deal, telling you how excited they were to eventually take it. Like your body was something fun for them to experience. But not Max. She likes the thought because it proves how much you, the person not the body, trusts her. You think it might be fun, with Max. Because of Max. It makes you want to push through those nerves.

She looks up at you. You recognise that look in her eyes, how they sparkle with mischief. "...what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" you ask, wary but playful in tone. You poke her cheek and laugh when that makes Max laugh as well.

"You've never gone under my bra," she says.

The thought of Max's... well. You flush at the thought, the image of it, like your brain's stopping you from even thinking of her chest. Bare. Would her, uh, you know, be as pink and tender as her lips?

You really need to get over it. They're just words. You've seen Max's breasts before - seen them when she'd tease you by sending you nudes, or the couple of times she's changed in front of you because "she really doesn't care, just stay" in Max's words. You never really let yourself look, so sure that you'd stare and pop a boner or something. And pictures don't do them justice.

Max gives you little time to prepare. With two hands, she takes hold of yours, and, with a gentle tug, brings your hand under her shirt. "Go up when you feel ready," she says. Her eyes are fixed on yours, but she closes them when she leans in and sweetly gives you a kiss. It's then when you let your fingers splay open, reaching up, releasing a shaky breath when you feel it. Soft. Malleable. 

You squeeze, and she moans and, fuck, you feel the blood rushing down between your legs. This is when alarm bells would ring, telling you to move away before she feels your semi. But not with Max. Maybe it would be overkill to say you feel completely ready, but you don't feel scared at least. Spurred by your excitement and the feel of her soft tits in your hands, you begin to massage and explore, watching how Max reacts. Her shivers, her moans, her whimpers.

"Are you sure this is your first time?" she huffs out, as you're switching from one to the other. "You're too good at this."

"I- uh-" You don't know what you want to say. Nothing really. At this point, you're tenting your boxers something fierce and hoping Max doesn't tease you about it. "I'm not really doing anything. You feel good," is what you end up landing on, proud when you don't stutter too bad.

You feel her nipples pebble under your touch, how your palm grazes over it and it makes Max bite her lip and mumble out a "fuck".

When you don't freak out and let her know it's getting a bit too quick for you, her thumbs slip under the straps of her tank top. "You can take it off, if you want, babe," Max offers. You know there's no bra underneath, and you think you might die if her perfect tits were suddenly out, so you appreciate the warning.

"Honestly, I like where my hands are," you say. Admitting that peeling her tank top off would make you actually combust in your pants is too embarrassing anyways. "But I want to see you."

You watch as she strips her shirt and your heart thumps like it did the first time because she's just that gorgeous. Her pale skin is pretty. Her nipples are as pink as you imagined, but there's a tinge of red now, like they're begging to be touched. The beauty marks that pepper her upper body look like constellations, and you've spent a non-zero amount of time fantasising about kissing them. So you do. Max's breathing is getting heavy and you can feel it in how her chest rises and falls, can feel her heartbeat against your lips.

You don't know how long your face has been buried in her chest for. At least ten minutes if you had to guess. Max's perfume smells so sweet on her skin, and when you lick around her nipple like that, she squirms and grinds down on your lap. You almost can't believe you're feeling so comfortable right now. There's no instinct telling you to move away, to not let her feel your bulge. In fact, it feels so good.

"So, does that mean you're ready for third base now? Or maybe even a home run?" Her voice is teasing, but there's a hint of need behind it. Max wants you inside her and it's a thought that makes you groan.

"I think... yeah," you breathe out. "I wanna go further."

Max's eyes light up at your words. She can't believe you're giving her this, trusting her enough to let her see you, all of you. She's been dying to touch you, to explore every inch of the body that she loves being held by. She sits up, straddling you, her hands already reaching for the hem of your shirt.

"I thought you'd never ask," she teases, pulling your shirt off and tossing it aside. Her fingers trace the lines of your muscles, admiring the way your body responds to her touch. She can feel your heart pounding in your chest, can sense your nervousness. But she also sees the desire in your eyes, the want.

Her hands move to your belt, unbuckling it slowly, her eyes never leaving his. She can see you swallow hard, your chest heaving.

Max is grinning, enjoying the power she holds over you. "It'll be good. You'll love this, baby, trust me." In smooth, practised motions, she undoes the button on your jeans, then your zipper, her knuckles brushing against your hardness. She can feel you throbbing, eager for her touch.

"I do trust you," you say. With a groan, you hide your face against her, burrowing at the spot where her shoulder and neck meet.

"You're so big, babe," she whispers, her hand slipping inside your boxers, wrapping around your length. Max bites her lip, looking up at you with wide, eager eyes. She can feel your thickness in her hand, can barely wrap her fingers around it. "You're pulsing in my hand." Max sounds delighted.

"Shut up," you grit out, face probably burning red with all her teasing. It's all you can do to remember to breathe.

"Uh huh." She strokes you gently, feeling you grow even harder in her hand. Up and down the shaft, twisting at the head. You can't believe a girl is touching you. Not only that, but she's doing it in a way that you've only done to yourself in the privacy of your room, like Max knows just how you like it. "Do you like that, baby?" she asks, her voice soft and sweet. Encouraging. It makes you squirm.  "Do you like me touching you like this?"

Fuuuuck. "Ugh." Your hips jerk up, making a slick sound as you fuck up into her hand. "Yes."

After a while, when you're fully hard, Max starts making her way down. She kisses her way down your neck, your chest, lips exploring your body as her hands continue their tantalisingly slow up and down. She can feel you tense beneath her touch, but you don't stop her. "What are you-?"

"Shhh, baby. I just want to do something for you. It'll feel even better. Pinky promise."

She reaches your waistband, her fingers hooking into the top of your boxers. She looks up at you, checking in, making sure you're still okay with this. You nod. The sight of Max on her knees in front of you is fucking wow and the thought of saying no doesn't even cross your mind. Not like this. Not when your breath coming in short gasps and you just want her mouth around you.

"OK. Thank you for trusting me, baby," she whispers.

Your hands... you don't know what you're doing with them, don't know what to do at a time like this. It's not like you came over expecting to get blown today, so you didn't exactly look up the best etiquette for this. On her head seems like a safe option but also so lewd that you can't bring yourself too. "Of course," you say. "I love you. I-I trust you."

She smiles, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your stomach. "I love you too."

A deep breath in. You can do this. Max says you'll love it, and God, if you haven't imagined her mouth on you hundreds of times. She tugs your boxers down, freeing your erection. She says something to the effect of "oh, hello!" when it pops out, smacking you in the stomach cause you're just that fucking hard right now.

Max gasps when she finally sees it, her eyes widening in shock and awe. "Oh my god, baby," she breathes, her hand wrapping around the base, her thumb and middle finger not even able to meet. "If you told me you were packing all this, I might have done this sooner."

"Max..."

"I know, I know." Max laughs. She can see you blushing, can see the vulnerability in your eyes. Max smiles, running her finger along your length, feeling you shiver beneath her touch. "You're doing good," she tells you, then licks her lips. "Now can I taste it, baby?" she asks, her voice soft and pleading. "Please?"

When you nod your consent, Max leans down, her tongue flicking out to lick the tip of your cock. She hears you gasp, sees your hips jerk slightly. When she's taking you into her mouth, just the head at first, you wonder if you've ever felt anything so good. It's warm. Crazy intense. Your hands stay on the bed, clutching at the covers, fisting it so you don't do something stupid like scream or cum right there and then.

She sucks gently, her tongue swirling around you.

"Aa-ah," comes the broken moan out of your mouth. Don't cum, don't cum, shit.

You're growing harder in her mouth than you even thought possible, the head hitting the soft palate at the roof of her mouth. There's too many textures, too many sensations. You cling onto the knowledge that this is Max doing this to you. For you. Whichever. Your caring, sweet, always clingy Max. You cling to the fact that she's probably loving this right now, if in a completely different way than you are, loving that you're letting her have this part of you.

She pulls off the slightest bit, just enough to speak, looking up at you. "Is this okay, baby?" she asks, her voice soft. "Do you like it?"

You nod, your eyes clamped shut. If you look down and see your dick in her mouth, there's no saying what you'll do. "Y-yes," you stammers. "It's amazing."

"Well, I'm glad, baby," she says. You can hear the smile in her voice, can feel her hands rubbing up and down your thighs to calm you down. "Tell me if this gets too much, alright? I'm gonna do a little more."

Nodding, you give her the OK.

A little more turns out to be a lot at once. Max returns to that steady rhythm, her head bobbing up and down. With the way her tongue is swirling, you might not have recognised that she's goimg each time. Until finally, you hit something, and you feel her gag slightly.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no, I'm fine," Max doesn't let you finish. "I want to."

She pulls back, taking a deep breath, before trying again. Biting your lip hard, you feel how Max relaxes her throat, taking you deeper this time, her hands gripping your thighs.

You're panting at this point. She must feel you growing closer, feel your body tensing. Her hand strokes the rest of your shaft, the bit she can't get in her mouth.

"No," you get out. You want to last, you want to make sure Max enjoys this as much as you are.

Now it's Max's time to apologise. She immediately pulls off, her eyes big and apologetic. "I'm sorry, God, I should have know that was too far, babe."

Instead of letting her think she was in the wrong, you lean down to kiss her. "No, you didn't do anything wrong," you murmur, even if it's hard to speak right now. Her shoulders are tense, worried, and you rub them. "I just didn't want to cum yet," you admit. You feel ready. You feel good. And it's all Max's doing. "I think I want... I want to be inside you."

Her eyes widen. Eventually Max nods, understanding, and scoots up to lie back on the bed. She reaches behind her to unbutton her shorts, sliding them and her panties off in one smooth motion. She wiggles out of them, leaving her naked and exposed. Her pussy is wet, her nerves making her ache for you. When she spreads her legs, inviting you in, you feel your mouth go dry.

"Come here, baby," she says, patting the spot next to her. "You're going to be so good, you know?"

Nervous isn't the right word. Excitement, maybe. You don't want to fuck this up, but at the same time you know Max wouldn't bedgrudge you if you do. Maybe she'd laugh, or playfully complain, but even if you bust a load right now she'd probably rub your back and tell you that you did good.

You gulp. "I don't know how to..."

"I know, baby. That's kinda part of it." Max leans in, pressing a soft placating kiss to your lips. "No one knows how to do something the first time. All I want is for you to be comfortable, OK? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Nothing you don't want to. That helps.

Max takes your hand again. This time, she brings it between her legs. Lets you feel around, not judging how your fingers clumsily explore her pussy.

Knowing that you're going to put it in and feel all this, wet and warm and tight, around your cock makes your brain fry. 

"Do you feel how wet I am?" she whispers. "I'm gonna love it. Just let me guide you in. You can't mess this up."

You keep your eyes fixed on Max, letting her keep you as calm as you can be in this situation. Her hand, still unable to wrap around your girl, directs you to her entrance, replacing your fingers with your cock. Your heart is pounding in your chest as she lines herself up with your head. For the first time, you feel a woman's soft folds around the tip of your cock. An inviting heat practically begs you to take her, to shove yourself right in, and you can't help but shiver at the sensation.

"Max."

"Shh. Slow," she whispers. "Just push in slow, feel how I fit around you. Take your time."

You do as she says, pushing in slowly, her warmth enveloping you. Your body screams at you to move faster. Inch by agonising inch. Your hands let go of the sheets, reaching to grasp her, holding Max by the hips now. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do to stop Max from sucking you until you came. But now, with half of your shaft buried inside her and Max's hand still wrapped around your base, you realise how close you still are. How bad of a decision it was to not wait until you calmed down a little, because fuck, you think you're going to blow.

Max's nails dig into your shoulder, and she takes a deep breath. Her shaky "oh God" makes you moan, clutching at her hips tighter to hold on to your sanity. Luckily, it seems like you both need some time, so no one complains when you stop about halfway inside her. Max slowly adjusts to your size, and you're adjusting to the fact that you're inside of someone for the first time and it feels like heaven.

"Do you like this, baby?" she asks, her voice breathless. "Do you like being inside me?"

"God yes," you groan out. You can barely even recognise your own voice, thick with pleasure. The tight heat, the softness, it envelops you and you can't help but bite your lip as you tell yourself over and over to not cum yet. Even without moving, her muscles are clenching around you, and it's so intense that it's overwhelming.

"OK, baby," she pants, after a while. You're calmer now. At least, you hope so. "Now you can move." 

So you do. You sink in slowly but surely, taking it all in. Once you're fully inside her, you freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. Max, however, is not. She wraps her legs around your waist, her heels digging into your back, and begins to move her hips, grinding against you.

Max guides you, showing you how to thrust, how to set the pace, how she likes it. She likes it when you swivel your hips, but hates it when you change up the speed too much. When her hips gyrate, she wants it deeper. You're a fast learner. Every thrust makes her moan, and you're just following Max's lead. Trying not to lose yourself in it. Her soft moans are the sweetest reward.

Max wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you closer, encouraging you. 

"You're doing great," she says, her eyes locked on yours. "Just like that. Keep going."

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes locked with Max's. This is it. You're making love to the love of your life, and you can't believe how good it feels. Max's slick walls slide against you, gripping your cock with every roll of her hips. You begin to mimic her movements, use what you've learned.

Max lets out soft, needy whines, her body arching to meet your inexperienced but eager thrusts. She's taking in every inch of you, her pussy stretching and contracting around you. Her eyes roll back in her head.

"B-baby, please," she calls out, "cum for me, cum inside me. I want to feel it."

"Close. Wait for me," you groan, your body trembling.

And then, in a wave of pleasure, your body jerks. It feels like a bolt of lightning, a shock to the system. Your cock pulses deep inside of Max as you spill your seed deep within her. Max lets out a loud moan as you fill her, her body shuddering as her own orgasm washes over her. Her pussy clamps down tightly around you, milking you dry as she rides out her climax.

Together, you two lay there, panting. "Oh my God. That was amazing," you say, before laughter takes over you. Nothing's funny, but there's too much joy, too much happiness to not let out. She joins in, until you're two giggling messes cuddled up in the sheets, basking in the afterglow. She whispers sweet nothings into your hair, telling you how proud she is of you, how lucky she is that you let her experience your first with you.

[jungkoode]

FUCK ME UP | FRAGMENTS

˗ˏˋ that first night (her POV) ˎˊ˗

"There's a theory that says you meet everyone in your life twice—once as strangers, and once when it matters. That first night at 'Pulse', with vodka cranberry on your tongue and his eyes burning into yours, was supposed to be the stranger part. No one warns you that six months later, he'll be standing in your new apartment's doorway, looking at you like he's seen a ghost. But that’s a problem for Future you."

⋆｡°✩ story details ✩°｡⋆

collection: Before It All (FMU)

wordcount: 15k

pairing: fmu!jungkook x fmu!yn (cocky!jkxbratty!reader)

rating: explicit, 18+

playlist: spotify

content: new york city setting, university setting, strangers to roommates (eventually), nightclub setting, hookup, one night stand, drunk hookup (buzzed/tipsy but consensual), explicit sexual content, oral sex (cunnilingus), protected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, wall sex, rough sex, choking/breath play (light), hair pulling, marking/hickeys, size kink, manhandling, dirty talk, praise kink, bickering during sex, snarky banter, grinding, multiple positions, slight pain kink, slight degradation kink, praise kink if you squint, sexual tension, sexual chemistry, mild exhibitionism (making out in uber/club), slight voyeurism (being watched in club), mild dubious condom practices (that one scene), alcohol consumption, bite kink, aftercare (mild), spooning, scent kink, vanilla scented products, enemies to lovers (eventual), size difference (height), strength kink.

✧ author's note ✧

Hi my little demons! (｀∀´)Ψ Welcome to the prequel that started this absolute dumpster fire - AKA the night our emotionally constipated idiots first met.

Let's talk about how THIS happened, because honestly? I've rewritten this scene approximately 47 times (not exaggerating, my Google docs are a MESS). I initially wasn't even going to write it, but then my 3AM brain, fueled by what was probably my 8th espresso, decided we NEEDED to see these two disasters collide for the first time. And boy, did they collide. (￣ω￣;)

First things first: This is pure, unadulterated filth. I literally had to take several walks around my apartment complex while writing this because these two WOULD NOT BEHAVE. Like, I was trying to be somewhat respectable here, but they said "No♥️" and chose violence. So you know what? I just let them do their thing and documented it like the professional disaster that I am.

Now, let's talk about our girl for a second. Writing her at this specific point in her life was FASCINATING because you can really see all the pieces that made her who she is—the family pressure, the small-town suffocation, the desperate need for control while simultaneously wanting to lose it completely... She's such a beautifully complex mess and I love her for it. (Don't worry, she'll grow. Eventually. Maybe. We'll see.)

And Jungkook... Oh boy. There's SO MUCH about him that I've deliberately sprinkled throughout this chapter. Little details, subtle hints, tiny breadcrumbs that'll make sense later. I'm actually really proud of how many easter eggs I managed to hide in here - come back after future chapters and tell me if you caught them! (Though let's be real, you're probably not here for the literary analysis, you thirsty gremlins.)

The biggest challenge was honestly Emma. Like, how do you get the world's most protective best friend to leave her bestie alone in a club? I spent WEEKS trying to make this work in a way that felt authentic to her character. The sister crisis was my 3AM solution and I'm actually pretty proud of how it turned out. Realistic character motivation is my kink, okay? (＾▽＾)

Speaking of realism—that's literally why this fic exists. I got so frustrated with how many unrealistic elements I kept seeing in stories that I went "Fine, I'll do it myself" and here we are, 35 pages of smut later???? Huh. You're welcome????

Side note: I have this whole thing narrated in audio (female voice only, because no male voice matches Jungkook’s, my beloved ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) but Tumblr said "file too big bestie" so... might drop it on ko-fi if enough people are interested. Let me know in the comments! Speaking of comments—PLEASE tell me your theories about all the little hints I've dropped about Jungkook's past. I'm dying to see what you guys pick up on! (⌒ω⌒)ﾉ

Until next time, you disaster pandas! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Kiki. 🍓

P.S. Any typos are between you and god because I've stared at this document for so long the words have lost all meaning.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

⋆｡°✩ read more ✩°｡⋆

main story: fuck me up

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So here's the thing about nightclubs: you either love them or you hate them.

You? You're more of a 'hate them' kinda girl. The sweat, the noise, the people... not your scene. Not usually, anyway.

But usual went out the window the second Emma suggested this little adventure. Sweet, reliable Emma who you lost touch with after high school but who immediately became your secret accomplice when you reached out about transferring to NYU. Who's been your underground informant for months now—sneaking you tips about the English department, virtually walking you through the campus layout via late-night FaceTime sessions, and helping you plot out the perfect transfer application your parents know nothing about.

Emma, who didn't even blink when you showed up at her door with a weekend bag and a story for your parents about "visiting your responsible friend in the city." (They bought it immediately because, well, it's Emma. Their golden standard of What A Good Influence Should Be.) You'd spent the whole day doing exactly what you came for—touring NYU's campus, sitting in on a couple of English classes Emma snuck you into, and gathering all the transfer information you could get your hands on.

"You can't just transfer here and not know what the nightlife is like," she'd insisted, already rummaging through her closet for something that wasn't your campus tour outfit. "That's like... buying a car without test driving it."

Which, okay, terrible analogy, but you get her point. You've spent months planning this transfer—going over NYU's transfer requirements, crafting the perfect escape from your suffocating small-town university, calculating exactly how to tell your parents once it's too late for them to stop you. The campus visit was supposed to be just that—visiting your responsible friend Emma for a weekend while secretly checking out NYU.

Emma, bless her overprotective heart, had taken one look at your face after that final tour—that specific blend of desperate hope and terrified excitement—and decided you needed to see the whole picture. "The real college experience," as she put it, already pulling out her phone to text her club promoter friend.

"Location sharing on?" she'd asked for the fifth time before you left her apartment, double-checking your phone settings like some kind of Gen-Z mother hen. As if you hadn’t spent the last three months planning this transfer with military-grade precision.

"Yes, mom," you'd rolled your eyes, but something warm had settled in your chest at her fussing. It's... nice, having someone in on the secret. Someone who gets it.

"Emergency contact updated to my number?"

"Check."

"Spare key to my apartment?"

"Emma, I swear to god—"

"Just checking!" She'd grinned, already knowing she was being ridiculous but doing it anyway. "One more thing..."

And that's how you ended up with a literal tracking app on your phone, an emergency SOS button setup, and Emma's solemn promise to "never leave your side, scout's honor." (She was never actually a scout, but whatever.)

Parents really think you're just visiting your studious, sensible friend Emma for a nice, quiet weekend in the city. Having some wholesome catching-up time. Maybe seeing some museums.

Ha. If only they knew you're actually scouting out your future escape route.

If only you knew.

Because let's be real, this isn't exactly in your wheelhouse. But Emma's right there, keeping her scout's honor promise, bouncing between the bar and dance floor like some kind of safety-conscious terror. And maybe it's the way she keeps checking in with subtle thumbs-up signals, or maybe it's just knowing someone's actually got your back in this whole secret college plan thing, but you're... kind of having fun?

Which is how you find yourself here, in this pulsing, thrumming mass of bodies and sound. 'Pulse', the club's called. Fitting, considering how you can feel the bass thumping in your veins, the strobe flashing like lightning in your skull. It's... a lot. But not in a bad way?

Yeah, definitely not bad, you decide as you scan the room. Leather booths, gleaming bar top, and a dance floor packed with the kind of gorgeous twenty-somethings that make you feel simultaneously inadequate and oddly triumphant. Like 'yeah, I might not be that, but at least I'm here.'

And honestly, it's pretty nice here. Clean, classy even. Good lighting over the bar, vigilant security, and Emma vouches for the place. She's your safety net tonight, because God knows you'd never try this solo. But Emma... Emma knows everyone. Gets you both in with a wink and a wave, like some kind of VIP.

The girl's got pull and she's not afraid to use it. You envy that a bit, that confidence. Wish you could borrow just a dash of it, to fortify your nerves as you perch on this barstool, spine too straight and fingers too tight around your glass. But it's fine, it's good, you're good. That’s what you tell yourself, anyways—even if it’s not entirely the truth.

It's just one night. One chance. One small rebellion before you go back home and drown yourself in expectations and demands. Hardly even counts as rebellion, really, in the grand scheme. Not like you're planning on getting blackout drunk and ending up in jail or anything. Just… dipping your toe. Sampling the other side. Just for a night.

What's the worst that could happen?

Famous last words. Or in this case, famous last thought, as you take a too-big sip of your drink and nearly choke on watery vodka cranberry. Good thing no one's paying attention.

Well, except for one guy, apparently. And he's...

Oh. Oh damn.

He's the kind of gorgeous that makes you almost forget how to swallow, even as you scoff internally. Guys who look like that? They're usually bad news. Cringe edgy boys. Like the ones you see on TikTok. The jaw, the eyes, the whole brooding bad-boy package. Not your type. Not even a little.

But he’s hot. Truth be told.

And he's watching you. Not in a creepy way, but… intense. Interested. And wow, okay, maybe there's something to be said for the whole 'still waters' vibe he's giving off, because that gaze is doing things to you. Things you're not entirely sure you're ready for.

But then again... isn't that the whole point? To try something new? To be someone new, just for a night? The girl who holds the stare of a beautiful stranger. The girl who lets the charge build, heart kicking up and skin tingling. The girl who—

"Shit, shit, shit." Emma's suddenly at your elbow, phone clutched to her chest, face twisted with genuine distress. "My sister just called. She's having some kind of breakdown about—god, I don't even know, her boyfriend? Something about him showing up at her dorm? She's hysterical, I can barely understand her—"

You watch Emma's face cycle through about twelve different emotions in three seconds. She keeps glancing between you and her phone, clearly torn. "I should go check on her. But I can't just leave you here alone. Fuck. Maybe we should both—"

"Em, I'm fine," you try to reassure her, even as your stomach sinks a little. Great. Just when things were getting interesting with dark eyes over there. "I can just get an Uber—"

"No, no, wait." Emma's scanning the club like she's looking for something specific. Her face lights up suddenly as she spots someone by the weights machine in the club's weird gym corner. Because apparently some clubs have those now. "Oh thank god—hey!!"

She waves frantically at some guy who's been doing bicep curls between taking selfies for his Instagram story. You vaguely recognize him from Emma's study group—one of those guys who probably knows the protein content of everything in his lunch and considers gym updates a legitimate form of social interaction.

"Perfect timing," Emma says as he approaches, already dabbing his face with a workout towel. She's rapid-fire texting, probably her sister. "You're still doing that safe walk program thing for the student union, right? The volunteer thing they made you do after that frat party incident?"

"Yeah bro, community service hours almost done," he confirms, then looks confused as Emma practically shoves her phone in his face, showing him what you assume is your location-sharing setup.

"Great. This is my best friend from high school. She's got location sharing on with me, SOS button setup, fully charged phone." Emma's talking so fast she's almost tripping over her words. "I have to go deal with my sister but I'll be back in an hour tops. Could you just... keep an eye out? Make sure no creeps bother her?"

Your face heats. "Emma, seriously—"

"I know, I know, you can handle yourself," Emma cuts you off, already shouldering her bag. "But humor me? He’s actually great at this. Always walks girls home after study group. Total golden retriever energy."

You catch the way her eyes flick meaningfully toward where dark eyes is still watching from across the room. Like she's trying to say 'here's your safe but slightly dim option if you want it, but...'

Your phone buzzes with an incoming wall of texts:

Emma: 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢!!! 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 Emma: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 Emma: 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚢𝚖 𝚋𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢 Emma: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜... 👀 Emma: (𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 & 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎!!!)

"Hey there. Emma had to run, but she didn't want to leave you alone. Asked me to keep you company. That okay?"

The voice cuts through your spiral, and you blink up at the interloper. Brent? Brad? Some monosyllabic gym bro who's friends with Emma and apparently your new babysitter.

Great.

You paste on a smile, even as your attention flickers back to him. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a mouth that could probably do very interesting things, you bet your money on it. But no. Don’t get distracted. Eyes on Brett. He's safe, he's known. Boring as a beige wall, but that's better. Smarter.

"Yeah, of course," you say brightly. Too brightly. Even you can hear the false note, and you cringe. "Thanks for keeping me company."

Because that's why you're here. For safety, for company, for sampling the world, but through a protective barrier. Not for tall, dark, and dangerously appealing over there. Definitely not for him.

Even if you kinda wish it was.

"You're pretty."

And like... okay? Thanks? But also, ugh. It's not that you're not flattered—you are, in that vaguely uncomfortable way that makes you want to simultaneously preen and roll your eyes into next week. Because yeah, duh, you know. You own mirrors. You're aware of your assets, thank you very much. But there's something so wonderfully, terribly basic about guys who lead with that.

Still. You give him another once-over, because fair's fair and also because like... why not? He's not bad. Actually pretty decent, if you're being honest (and you are, because what's the point of lying to yourself?). Broad shoulders, nice arms, that whole gym rat aesthetic that apparently some girls go crazy for.

Not that you're necessarily one of those girls. You've always preferred a more... balanced build. Something between "I can bench press you" and "I've never seen the inside of a gym." Like, yeah, muscles are nice and all, but you want to be able to actually cuddle without feeling like you're laying on a marble statue. Give you some softer edges any day. Something to sink into, you know?

But beggars can't be choosers and honestly? You're kind of tired of being a beggar. Or, well, not a beggar exactly, but definitely... selective. Too selective, maybe. Conservative. Careful. All those words that really mean "scared to actually live a little."

Not tonight though. Tonight you're in New York fucking City, three hundred miles from your parents' suffocating expectations and that small-town mindset that makes you want to scream into your pillow sometimes. Tonight you could be anyone.

So when you say, "Thank you, you're not bad yourself," it comes out smoother than expected. Almost flirty. And his laugh? Not terrible. Kind of nice actually, even if it doesn't quite reach his eyes. They're nice eyes too—warm brown, honest. Safe.

"Would you like to dance?"

The question hangs there, and you consider it. Really consider it. Because this—this whole thing—it's what you came for, isn't it? To try something new. To be someone new. Someone who says yes to dancing with attractive strangers in clubs that pulse with bass-heavy Usher remixes.

"You feeling confident?" you throw back, and okay, maybe that was a little sharp, a little too much of your usual self bleeding through. But he just smiles (no dimples, and why does that matter? Since when do you care about dimples?), and holds out his hand.

His fingers are cold when they wrap around yours. It's... not great. You've always hated cold hands, which is ironic considering yours are perpetually freezing. But you let him lead you onto the dance floor anyway, because what the hell. What the actual hell. You're here, you're young, you're... actually kind of buzzed now that you think about it. That vodka cran hitting different after all.

His hands hover at your hips, eyes asking permission, and you give him a look that you hope translates to "yes, but don't get crazy about it." Must work, because his palms settle, grip light but present. You rest your hands on his shoulders (nice shoulders, you'll give him that), and try to find the rhythm.

It's not terrible. Not amazing either, but definitely not terrible. He can move, keeps a decent beat, doesn't try to grind up on you like some horny teenager. His hands stay respectfully placed, thumbs making small circles that should probably feel more exciting than they do.

Everything about this should feel more exciting than it does.

Maybe you need another drink. Maybe you need to stop overthinking every little thing and just... be. Maybe...

Maybe that's when it happens. Your eyes drift up, over his shoulder, like they're being pulled by some invisible thread. Like something in you just knows where to look. And there he is.

Dark eyes locked on yours, expression unreadable in the strobing lights.

One second. Two. Three.

An eternity compressed into the space between heartbeats. Your skin prickles, heat crawling up your spine that has nothing to do with the crowded dance floor or the alcohol in your system. The weight of his stare is palpable, laden with something unnamed but acutely felt. Something that turns your mouth to the Sahara and your pulse into a kickdrum.

Usher croons about falling in love while Pitbull drops his signature "dale" in the background, and isn't that just fucking hilarious? Because this—this moment, this look, this stranger—this isn't about love. This is about want. Raw and simple and completely uncomplicated by things like names or histories or futures.

This is about the way his jaw clenches slightly as he watches you dance with someone else. About how his fingers drum against his glass in perfect time with the beat. About the little scar on his cheek that catches the light when he tilts his head, studying you like you're a puzzle he wants to take apart piece by piece.

Your dance partner's hands feel colder by the second.

It's not that his hands are bad, exactly. They're... nice hands. Big hands. The kind that wrap around your hips like they were made to be there, fingers long enough to span the distance between hipbone and hipbone. And yeah, okay, you have a thing for hands. Who doesn't? It's practically universal at this point—like liking bread or hating people who talk during movies. Just basic human nature.

But something's... off.

Your brain is doing that thing. That stupid, annoying, overthinking thing where it won't shut up long enough to let you enjoy anything. And god, you hate this. Hate how your mind rebels against perfectly good situations, like it's allergic to straightforward pleasure or something. Because objectively? This should be working. Hot guy, good music, decent amount of alcohol in your system. Your body's definitely on board—you can feel the low simmer of attraction, the way your skin warms under his touch. The basic chemistry is there.

But your mind? Your mind's like that one friend who shows up to parties just to list off everything that could possibly go wrong. His hands are cold. His laugh doesn't reach his eyes. No dimples. The way he said "pretty" like he was checking off a box on some "How to Pick Up Girls" checklist.

You sigh, already stepping back. Watch the confusion flicker across his face, quickly masked by what you're sure he thinks is an understanding smile.

"Everything alright?"

And like... no? Yes? Maybe? How do you even answer that when you're not sure what's wrong in the first place? When you're standing here on a dance floor that's vibrating with Usher's voice while your brain short-circuits over the temperature of some guy's hands?

"Yeah, I'm just..." You pause, teeth catching your bottom lip as you reconsider. Fuck it. Might as well go with the classics. "The vodka. Has me feeling buzzy, I think I'm not feeling too good."

It's a cop-out and you know it. But it's also an easy out, the kind that doesn't hurt anyone's feelings or make things weird. Because that's what you do, isn't it? Keep things smooth. Keep things nice. Even when you're lying through your teeth to some guy whose name you can't quite remember.

"Hey, that's okay." His smile stays steady, concerned even. "No hard feelings. You need a ride home?"

And that—that right there—that's actually kind of sweet. In another universe, maybe that offer would seal the deal. Nice guy, worried about your safety, probably has a stable job and calls his mother on Sundays. But in this universe? In this universe, your eyes are already drifting over his shoulder, drawn like a compass needle to true north.

You press your lips together, scanning the crowd like you're actually looking for someone. Like you haven’t known exactly where he is this whole time, haven’t felt his eyes raking you up and down non-stop.

"Actually I know someone just across the way, so honestly, zero worries."

The shock on his face would be comical if it weren’t so irksome. "You positive? Weren’t you visiting from out of town? Emma mentioned you were just in for the weekend."

And okay, what the actual fuck? Why does he need your whole life story? Yeah, sure, he's probably just being nice. Probably just wants to make sure you're not about to wander off and get murdered or something. But still. The irritation rises in your throat like bile, sharp and inexplicable.

"Doesn't mean I don't know anybody in New York," you say, and wow, okay, that came out with more edge than intended. Quick, fix it, smooth it over. You paste on a tight smile, the kind that probably looks more like a grimace but hey, at least you're trying. "See you around, Brent."

You're already moving as you say it, heels clicking against the floor with purpose. You think you hear him call after you—something about his name being Peter?—but you're beyond caring. Beyond thinking about cold hands and careful smiles and all the safe choices you should be making.

Because your feet know where they're going, even if your brain is screaming about bad decisions. Even if every rational part of you is throwing up warning signs and red flags. Even if—or maybe because—you can feel his eyes following your every move, heat spiraling up your spine with each step closer.

The bass drops, and your heart kicks up to match it.

Dale, indeed.

You don't need to look at him to know he's watching. You can tell. Can perceive it. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire. The kind of heat that makes you want to step closer even as your survival instincts scream danger, danger, danger.

And this? This is definitely dangerous.

You don't do this. Like, ever. There's a whole routine to these things, right? Guy sees girl, guy approaches girl, girl decides if she wants to deal with whatever fumbling attempt at flirtation follows. That's just... how it works. How it's always worked. Because guys? They're usually terrible at being approached. Their fragile little egos can't handle a girl making the first move. Plus, most of them aren't worth the effort anyway.

But.

But your feet are already moving. But your heart is already racing. But something about the way he's been watching you, like he could devour you whole and still be hungry—it makes you reckless. Makes you stupid. Makes you brave.

"Dance with me."

It comes out more command than question, your voice steadier than it has any right to be. He looks up at you from his seat, and fuck. Just... fuck. Because the way he tilts his head? The slow, deliberate motion of it? That should not be as hot as it is. That should be illegal in at least three states.

Then he smiles. Just one side of his mouth lifting, lazy and confident and—oh god. A dimple. One perfect little dimple that makes something in your chest squeeze tight.

"That's bold."

His voice is lower than you expected. Rougher. Like whiskey over gravel, and you want to drink it down until you're drunk on it. Want to find out what other sounds you can pull from that throat.

"You've been looking at me for 10 minutes." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, sharp and challenging. "You gonna come dance or not?"

He chuckles—actually chuckles, who even does that?—and holy shit, there's another one. Two dimples. Two perfect little dents in his cheeks that make heat pool low in your belly, thick and sweet like honey. Your fingers twitch, aching to touch them, to press thumbs to those tiny curves and feel him beam against your flesh.

When he stands, it's one fluid motion that makes it feel like someone replaced your esophagus with a cracked porcelain vase. Because he's tall. Not incredibly, super tall. But yes the kind of tall that means you'd have to stretch up on your toes to reach his mouth, that means his hands could probably span your whole waist, that means—

No. Nope. Not going there. Not yet anyway.

He follows you onto the dance floor, and you can feel the energy shift. Like the air itself is charging up, preparing itself for both of you. His friend—some guy with killer dance moves who's been holding down a corner of the floor all night—catches his eye and shoots him a look. Something passes between them, quick and meaningful, before Mystery Man's attention is back on you. All on you.

And yeah.

Yeah, this is happening.

This is definitely happening.

The bass pounds through your marrow as Usher's voice continues suffusing the air, talking about DJs and falling in love, and honestly. At this point you’re barely listening to the music itself, too focused on finding a more secluded spot.

Your pulse picks up speed. Can’t help it, really. Because this? This is definitely going to be worth breaking all your rules for.

You lead him to some darker corner of the club—might be by a column, might be an alcove, who fucking knows because your brain's too busy short-circuiting to care about architectural details right now. All you know is it's slightly away from the main crush of bodies, slightly more private, slightly more...

Oh.

His hands find your hips the second you turn to face him. No hesitation. No silent question. No careful hovering or polite uncertainty like what's-his-name earlier. Just warm, sure palms sliding over the curve of your hips like they belong there, like he's claiming territory, and—

And you should be annoyed. You should be fucking livid. Because excuse you? The audacity of this man to just assume he can touch you without so much as a "may I?" Some feminist you are, getting weak in the knees over this caveman behavior while poor Brett (Blake? Whatever) at least had the decency to ask permission with those puppy dog eyes of his.

But your brain? Your traitorous, horny, absolutely useless brain? It's sending signals straight between your legs because apparently that's what does it for you now. The confidence. The heat of his hands—and god, they're so warm, burning through the thin fabric of your dress like brands. They're not as broad as the other guy's, but his fingers are longer, elegant almost. Artist's hands, scattered with tiny tattoos that disappear under his sleeve, and that silver ring on his middle finger catching the light as his grip tightens just slightly...

(Middle finger. Not left-hand fourth. So not married then. Good. Last thing you need tonight is adding "homewrecker" to your expanding list of dubious habits.)

Your arms loop around his neck almost on autopilot, and then you're moving. With him. Against him. The bass is a living thing between you, and he matches your rhythm instantly, like your bodies already know the steps to this dance. Like you've done this a hundred times before, in a hundred different lives.

His eyes lock onto yours, heavy-lidded and dark as sin, and every hair on your neck stands at attention. Electricity crackles down your spine, sharp and sweet, as his thumbs press into your hipbones. Just enough pressure to guide you closer, until there's barely room for breath between you.

"Didn't catch your name earlier," he says, voice pitched low enough that you have to lean in to hear him over the music. His breath fans hot against your ear, and you suppress a shiver.

"Didn't throw it," you shoot back, because apparently your mouth is running on autopilot now too. Great. Just great.

But he laughs—a quick, rough sound that you feel more than hear—and his hands flex against your hips. "Feisty. I like that."

"Bet you say that to all the girls who proposition you at clubs."

"Nah." His head dips closer, nose brushing your temple. "Just the ones who stare at me for ten minutes first."

"Excuse you, you were staring at me."

"Maybe we were staring at each other."

And okay, that's... fair actually. But you're not about to admit it. Instead, you roll your eyes, even as your fingers find the soft hair at his nape. "Does this usually work for you? This whole... whatever this is?"

"You tell me." His smile is audible in his voice, and you just know those dimples are making an appearance again. "You're the one who told me to dance."

"Maybe I just felt sorry for you, sitting there all alone."

"Wasn't alone. Had my friend."

"The dancer? Please, he was too busy killing it on the floor to keep you company."

His laugh vibrates through his chest into yours, and when did you get this close? When did your bodies start pressing together with every sway of the music? When did his thigh slip between yours, creating a friction that makes your breath catch?

"You been watching my friend too? Should I be jealous?"

The word sends an unexpected thrill through you, even though his tone is clearly teasing. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yeah," he says, and suddenly his voice isn't teasing at all. His grip tightens fractionally, pulling your hips more firmly against his. "Yeah, I would."

Goosebumps ripple across your arms, slow and inevitable, like lava carving its path through stone. His eyes burn into yours again, scorching hot, wild, and consuming—a downpour drowning a raging fire, leaving nothing but aftermath. What’s left in their wake is the kind of black that clings. Opaque. Dense. Like ash, settling over a forest stripped to its bare bones.

The sensible part of your brain—the part that usually keeps you from doing stupid, reckless things with beautiful strangers—is suspiciously quiet. Probably because all your blood is currently occupied elsewhere, namely with the way his hands are starting to trace slow patterns on your hips, the way his breath keeps ghosting over your neck, the way his body moves against yours like he's writing sin in cursive.

And maybe it's the vodka, or maybe it's how he's gazing at you like you're tranquility amidst his chaos, but you hear yourself say, "Buy me a drink first."

His smile is slow, dangerous. "That an order too?"

"Consider it a... suggestion."

"Mm." One hand slides to your lower back, pressing you impossibly closer for just a moment. "I'm starting to like your suggestions."

Your skin feels too tight, too hot, too everything. "Starting to?"

"Give me time." His lips brush your ear as he speaks, and this time you can't suppress the shiver. "Night's still young."

He actually does buy you that drink, which is... something. You're not sure what exactly, but definitely something. The way he guides you to the bar with his hand still on your lower back, fingers splayed wide enough to make you notice the imprint of his warmth? Also something.

"Another vodka cran," you tell the bartender, because hey, if it ain't broke. Then you catch his raised eyebrow and can't help adding, "What? Were you expecting something more sophisticated?"

"Nah." That damn dimple makes another appearance. "Just trying to figure you out."

"Good luck with that."

When he pulls out his wallet to pay, you catch a glimpse of multiple cards fanned out in the leather fold. Credit cards, maybe? Must have money then—or at least good credit. Not that it matters, because this is a one-time thing. A never-gonna-see-you-again thing. A what-happens-in-New-York stays-in-New-York thing.

Your fingers find the cocktail napkin beneath your glass, absently creating sharp creases with your thumbnail. It's one of those fancy ones with the bar's logo embossed in gold—pretentious, like everything else about this place.

Still. You notice how he pauses, studying one card for a beat too long before selecting it. Like he's making sure of something. Weird, but whatever.

The napkin disappears into your clutch without conscious thought. A habit you'll question later but can't explain now. You're too buzzed to care about his personal finances or your own questionable souvenir-keeping tendencies.

"Whiskey neat," he orders, and you barely contain your snort. Of fucking course he drinks whiskey. Probably thinks he's Don Draper or something.

"Pretentious much?"

"Says the girl drinking what's basically juice with a splash of alcohol."

"At least I'm not trying to prove anything."

His laugh is rough, genuine. "Who says I'm trying to prove anything?"

"Please. Whiskey at a club? That's like wearing a suit to McDonald's."

"Maybe I just like whiskey." He takes a deliberate sip, throat working in a way that absolutely doesn't make your mouth water. "Maybe I like the burn."

There's something in his voice when he says that, something that feeds the banked flame in your belly. His eyes are on you again, alternating between your eyes and your mouth like he can't quite decide where to focus.

"That line score you points often?" you manage to ask, even as your voice betrays you, emerging breathier than intended.

"I wouldn't know." He's definitely closer now. When did that happen? Did he move, or did you? "Is it scoring points now?"

And god help you, but it is. It really fucking is. Maybe it's the alcohol finally hitting your system properly, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, but you find yourself swaying toward him. Drawn in like a moth to flame, even though you know you're probably going to get burned.

"You're kind of an asshole," you inform him, even as your free hand finds its way to his chest. His very firm chest, holy shit.

"Yeah?" His fingers trace up your spine, feather-light but deliberate. "Seem to like it though."

"Cocky too."

"Haven't heard any complaints."

He's so near now you can smell him—something clean and vicious, like a tempest raging on the coast. His breath fans across your lips, whiskey-warm and promising. One of his hands cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw in a way that makes your skin buzz.

"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?" you murmur, and that's it—that's all it takes.

His mouth crashes into yours like a wave breaking against rocks, hot and insistent and absolutely fucking flawless. His lips are softer than you expected but he kisses hard, like he's trying to devour you whole. Like he's been thinking about this as much as you have. The hand on your neck tightens, tilting your head to deepen the angle, and holy fuck.

You've been kissed before. You've been kissed a lot, actually. But this? This is something else entirely. This is lightning in a bottle, this is matches in gasoline, this is every hackneyed poetry metaphor about fire and flame and immolation except it actually makes sense now because your entire body is electric with it.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open for him without hesitation, vodka cranberry forgotten in your hand. He tastes like alcohol and dewdrops and something else you can't name but instantly crave more of. The noise he makes when you tug his hair—low and ravenous and almost startled—shoots straight between your legs.

Someone whistles nearby—probably his dancer friend—but you couldn't care less. Not when his other hand is sliding down to your hip, pulling you closer. Not when he's kissing you like he's trying to memorize the shape of your mouth with his tongue. Not when everything in you is screaming more, closer, now.

You're definitely going to hell for this. But with the way he's kissing you?

Might be worth it.

His forehead rests against yours, and you're both breathing like you've run a marathon. Which is... embarrassing, actually. When was the last time a kiss left you this affected? What are you, some freshman at their first house party? Because this is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. Your heart is hammering against your ribs like it's trying to escape, and your lips are tingling, and—

And fuck it. Fuck everything. You want more.

"Let's take this outside," you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds considering your internal chaos. Because yes. Outside. Away from the crowd and the music and all these people who aren't him.

"Your house?" The words are barely out of his mouth before you can finish your suggestion, and okay, that's kind of hot. The eagerness. The way his fingers flex against your hip like he's already imagining it.

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. At least you're not alone in this desperate teenage hormone bullshit. At least he's just as affected as you are.

But then reality crashes in like a bucket of ice water. Your house? What house? You're crashing at Emma's place and—oh god, Emma would actually murder you. Like, literal homicide. She's already doing you a solid by covering for you with your parents, and bringing back some random (incredibly hot) guy from a club? Yeah, that would definitely void the best-friend contract.

"Yours?" you counter, trying not to sound too hopeful.

He makes this sound—half hiss, half groan—that shouldn't be as sexy as it is. "Can't."

"What, mommy and daddy don't let you?" The snark is automatic, defense mechanism kicking in to mask your disappointment.

"Nah, but my friend might not like it."

"Mine either."

You stare at each other for a moment, eyes darting back and forth like you're both trying to solve the same puzzle. The absurdity of the situation hits you at the same time—two grown adults, hot and bothered in a club, cockblocked by their respective roommate situations—and suddenly you're both laughing.

His chuckle is deep, rumbling through his chest where you're still pressed against him, and it's... nice. Really nice. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the way his dimples flash (and seriously, those things should come with a warning label), the way his thumb absently strokes your hip like he's forgotten he's doing it.

"Well, this is..."

"Stupid?" you offer.

"I was gonna say unfortunate, but yeah. Stupid works too."

You're still close enough to feel his breath on your lips, still wound tight with want, still buzzing from that kiss. And now you're both laughing about it, which should probably kill the mood but somehow doesn't. Somehow makes it better, actually. More real. Less like some fantasy hookup and more like...

Nope. Not going there. This is still just a one-night thing. A one-night thing that's currently being cockblocked by your respective living situations, but still. Just one night.

"So what now?" he asks, and his voice has dropped back into that lower register that you really want to hate. "Because I really want to kiss you again."

"Just kiss?" The words slip out before you can stop them, teasing and suggestive and probably way too candid.

His grip tightens, just marginally. Just enough to make your breath catch. "Definitely not just kiss."

"Fuck," you breathe, because eloquence has left the building. Possibly the state.

"That's the idea, yeah." And how he says it—all gruff edges and sinful vow—makes embers spark low in your abdomen. "Just need to sort out the logistics."

Which brings you right back to your current predicament. No Emma's place, no his place, and you're pretty sure having sex in the club bathroom is both tacky and probably illegal. But the way he's looking at you, like he really, really wants to wreck you…

"We could..." you start, then pause. Because what? What brilliant solution are you about to offer here? Your practical brain is absolutely useless right now, short-circuited by the lingering taste of whiskey on your tongue and the steady pressure of his hands on your body.

"Could what?" His thumb traces your bottom lip, and your train of thought derails completely.

"I have no idea," you admit, and his laugh is somehow both frustrated and fond.

"This is definitely stupid," he says, but he's still holding you close, still looking at your mouth like he's considering kissing you again anyway, roommate situations be damned.

"So stupid," you agree, already tilting your face up to meet him halfway.

You lick your lips, tasting geosmin and want and really awful decision-making skills.

Fuck it. Fuck everything. Emma can kill you tomorrow.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist—god, his hands are so warm—and you're already moving, already pulling up the Uber app with your free hand. Thank fuck for muscle memory because your brain is absolutely useless right now, too busy cataloging the way his pulse jumps under your fingers, the way he follows without hesitation.

"Where we goin'?" His voice is low and hoarse as he trails behind you, wrist a hostage to your grip.

"To my friend's place," you mutter, trying to type Emma's address without typos.

You: 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠

You don’t mention you’re not heading home alone. She’ll find out herself.

The dude, for his part, just hums in response, like he's fine with whatever as long as it means getting somewhere private. Which, fair. You're kind of operating on the same wavelength here.

You make it to the coat check line first, because priorities. You’re not leaving your jacket behind. And it is moving at a glacial pace, because of course it is. The universe clearly wants to test your self-control by forcing you to stand here, his chest pressed against your back, his breath hot on your neck.

The way his fingers keep "accidentally" brushing your thigh has you seriously considering saying fuck it and just leaving your jacket behind.

"Could just come back for it tomorrow," he murmurs, like he's reading your mind. His lips brush your ear as he speaks, and you barely sigh in response. Bastard knows exactly what he's doing.

"It's January in New York. I'm not getting hypothermia just because you can't keep it in your pants for five minutes."

"Could keep you warm."

And okay, that line should be cringeworthy. That's the kind of shit that would usually make you roll your eyes so hard they'd get stuck. But he has a way with words—or maybe it’s just his fucking voice—and somehow you like it.

"Next," the coat check girl calls, mercifully saving you from having to respond. You practically lunge forward, fumbling with your ticket. Better than letting him feel how that stupid line affected you.

He reaches past you to hand over his own ticket, arm bracketing you against the counter. And really? Really? This is some romance novel bullshit right here. Who does he think he is, Christian Grey? You should be annoyed. You should definitely not be noticing how good he smells, or how the position highlights just how much bigger he is than you, or—

"Here you go!" The coat check girl's voice is way too cheerful for—you check your phone—3:46 AM. She hands over your coats with a knowing smile that makes your face heat. Great. Just great. Even the coat check girl can tell you're about to make terrible life choices.

He helps you into your jacket because apparently he's decided to be a gentleman now, after spending the last hour making you question your life choices with his mouth. His hands linger on your shoulders just a fraction too long, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

"Ready?" he asks, voice still pitched low enough to make your skin tingle. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and let him guide you toward the exit with his hand on your lower back.

The coat check girl calls out "Have fun!" as you leave, and you seriously consider moving to a different city. Maybe a different country. Somewhere people don't immediately clock your questionable decision-making skills.

The Uber arrives embarrassingly fast—some higher power must be looking out for horny idiots tonight—and you both slide into the backseat. You start on opposite sides because you're trying to be decent human beings, trying to remember that your poor driver doesn't deserve a free show.

But then he's moving closer.

And closer.

And suddenly his mouth is on yours again, hot and demanding, and okay, yeah, sorry Mr. Uber driver but this is happening. His hand cups your jaw, tilting your head just so, and you're definitely making some kind of noise in the back of your throat but you're beyond caring. Beyond thinking about anything except the way his tongue slides against yours, the way his other hand grips your thigh.

Fifteen minutes. That's all it is from the club to Emma's place. Fifteen minutes that somehow feel like both seconds and eternity, lost in a haze of wandering hands and stolen kisses and trying (failing) to keep things PG-13. You're vaguely aware of streets passing, of turns and stops, of the driver pointedly turning up the radio.

And then your attention shifts. His teeth graze your bottom lip, fingers slowly sliding on your inner thigh. Hisses when your nails find his scalp. Heat. Want. Need. Building higher with each passing minute until you're practically vibrating out of your skin.

By some miracle (or possibly divine intervention), you make it to Emma’s building. You stumble out of the Uber, giving the driver your most apologetic smile-grimace combo. He just shakes his head, probably adding you to his mental list of "drunk hookups I never want to see again."

But then he's pressing you against the building's front door, mouth hot on your neck, and you really can't bring yourself to care about your Uber rating right now. Not when his hands are everywhere, not when he's making these little sounds against your skin that go straight between your legs.

It takes three tries to get the key in the lock—partly because it's 4 AM and you're tipsy, mostly because he won't stop kissing you long enough to focus. When you finally get the door open, you nearly fall through it, saved only by his arm around your waist.

"Smooth," he murmurs against your lips, laughing softly.

"Shut up," you breathe back, already pulling him in for another kiss. His back hits the closing door with a thud that's definitely too loud for 4 AM, but you're past caring. Past thinking about anything except the way his hands feel sliding up your sides, the way he tastes, the way he's eating you up with his eyes.

Emma's definitely going to murder you tomorrow. But with the way his fingers are digging into your hips, the way he's kissing you like he's trying to crawl inside your skin?

What-fucking-ever.

He pushes off the door like a man on a mission, and suddenly you're airborne—your legs wrapping around his waist on pure instinct. And okay, that's hot. The way he lifts you like you weigh nothing, the solid press of his body against yours, the little growl he makes when your hips roll against his.

"Room?" His voice is wrecked already, breath hot against your mouth between kisses that make your head spin.

You gesture vaguely toward Emma's guest room, too busy mapping the muscles of his shoulders to form actual words. He exhales sharply against your lips, already moving. Your jackets become casualties somewhere in the hallway, dropped with fumbling hands and zero grace because yeah, the vodka's definitely hitting now. Everything's warm and hazy and electric, your skin buzzing everywhere he touches.

Then you're falling backward onto the bed, and holy fuck. The way he's looking down at you—like he's been lost in the desert and you're a fucking oasis—it makes your breath catch in your throat. Makes heat pool low in your belly, makes your thighs press together in anticipation.

His shirt comes off in one fluid motion and—

Jesus fucking Christ.

You've seen attractive guys before. You've seen gym bros and athletes and the whole spectrum of male bodies. But this? This is like someone took Michelangelo's David and decided to make him real but better. He's all lean muscle and smooth skin, but with just enough softness to make him touchable. Human. Perfect.

And his chest—god, his chest. It's not the rock-hard wall of muscle you'd expect from someone who looks like that. Instead, there's this ideal balance of firm and soft, creating the most magnificent set of man tiddies you've ever laid eyes on. The kind you could actually cuddle up to without feeling like you're resting on concrete. The kind that would make a flawless pillow after—

Your lusty brain stops working as he leans down, pressing his hips deliberately against yours as his mouth finds your neck. His tongue traces patterns on your skin that make you arch up against him, desperate for more contact.

"Fuck," he breathes against your throat, nosing along your pulse point. "You smell so good. Like vanilla and..." He inhales deeply, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. "Like something sweet I wanna taste."

Your hands slide up his back, feeling the play of muscles under warm skin. He's perfectly balanced above you, using just enough of his weight to make you feel deliciously pinned without crushing you. You fucking love it. Don’t know why, don’t know how. Maybe it's just how attractive he is, or the heat of his mouth on your neck, or the press of his body against yours or the way he keeps making these little sounds like he can't help himself.

He's kissing you again before your vodka-soaked brain can process anything beyond rudimentary want, primal need. It's all heat and tongue and teeth, messy and perfect in the way only drunken hookups can be. One of his hands slides up your neck, fingers spreading across your throat. Not squeezing, just...resting.

It's fucking electric.

Your hands map the expanse of his back, nails dragging lightly in a way that makes him groan into your mouth. He's all smooth skin and sinewy muscle, hot to the touch and absolutely unfair. No one should be allowed to feel this good. To make you feel this good, just by existing.

He drags his mouth down your neck, teeth grazing your artery. Your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping tight enough to make him hiss. Which is hot. Way too hot, because that noise? It immediately spirals straight between your thighs.

And fuck, how he grinds down against you in response. It's obscenely filthy, the perfect pressure in just the right spot to make you want to moan aloud. To be shameless.

"Fuck," he breathes against your skin, and you feel it more than hear it. Feel the heat of his breath, the barely restrained want in the way he's touching you. "You feel so fucking good."

Your hips roll up to meet his in a way that's purely instinctual. Because yeah, he feels good too. Better than good. You feel the maddening length of him grinding against you through his jeans; his hand around your neck and—god, you want to claw his back, to wrap your legs around his waist and just take.

The hand on your neck flexes just slightly, thumb brushing your jawline and you think you die just a little because hello? You like that. You really, really fucking like that. New kink unlocked, it seems.

"Want you," he murmurs, voice low and rough with arousal. "Want you so fucking bad, you have no idea."

And oh, you do. You really, really do. Because wanting him is all you can think about right now. All you can focus on beyond the thrumming of your heart, the aching throb between your thighs. You want his hands, his mouth, his—

"Off," you manage, tugging at his jeans with clumsy fingers. "These need to come off like, yesterday."

His chuckle vibrates through his chest into yours. "So fucking bossy."

But he's already leaning back, already working on his fly as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch. And Jesus Christ, the way he looks right now—shirtless and disheveled, dark hair falling into darker eyes, lips red from your kisses—it's unfair. Unreal.

So fucking hot you think you might actually die if he doesn't touch you again in the next ten seconds.

His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud and holy fuck—the sight of him in just black boxer briefs should be illegal in at least forty-eight states. Like, someone call the police because this? This is absolutely criminal. The way the fabric clings to his thighs, the obvious bulge that makes your mouth water—

But then he's on you again, and thinking becomes a foreign concept.

His hands find the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric up with an urgency that makes heat pool between your legs. You arch up to help him, already anticipating the slide of fabric over skin, but—

Oh.

The second the dress clears your elbows, he presses down. Uses the fabric to pin your arms above your head, effectively trapping you against the mattress. And that's... that's...

Fuck.

His mouth is suddenly on your breast, hot and wet and absolutely perfect. No hesitation, no teasing—just the wet slide of his tongue over your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, and holy shit.

Thank god you wore this dress. Thank every fucking deity that you chose the tight red one that doesn’t need a bra, because the feeling of his mouth directly on your skin is absolutely devastating.

A moan tears from your throat—embarrassingly loud in the quiet room—as his teeth graze sensitive flesh. His responding groan vibrates through your chest, sending shivers down your spine. Your back arches instinctively, pressing more firmly into his mouth as his tongue swirls around your peaked nipple.

His free hand finds your throat again, and—

Oh god.

His fingers spread wide, applying the slightest pressure. Testing. Exploring. Like he's curious about your reaction, about the way he feels your heartbeat flutter faster in response.

You can't help the soft sound that escapes you—somewhere between a whimper and a moan. His grip tightens fractionally in response, and your cunt clenches around nothing. Because fuck, that shouldn't be as hot as it is. The way he's controlling your breath, the way he's holding you down, the way his mouth is absolutely ruining you one suck at a time...

"Sensitive," he murmurs against your skin, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. Bastard. His thumb strokes along your jugular, feeling the way your breath hitches. "Wonder what other sounds I can get that pretty throat to make."

You'd have a snappy comeback for that. You know you would. But then he's switching to your other breast, teeth scraping just right, and coherent thought becomes a distant memory. All you can focus on is the wet heat of his mouth, the steady pressure of his hand on your throat, the way he's using his other hand to keep you pinned against the bed.

And maybe it's the situation, or maybe it's just him, but you've never been this turned on in your life. Never been this wet, this desperate, this needy. It should be embarrassing really—the way you're practically writhing beneath him, the way every little touch sends electricity sparking through your veins.

But with the way he's groaning against your skin, the way his hips keep grinding against yours like he needs it? Maybe you're not the only one that’s losing sanity here.

His teeth catch your nipple just as his fingers flex against your throat, and the combination pulls a sound from you that you didn’t even know you could make. High and breathy and absolutely wrecked.

"Fuck," he breathes, hot against your wet skin. "The sounds you make..."

His thumb brushes over your throat again, slower this time, before gliding up. Along the underside of your jaw. Pausing at your bottom lip. He applies the slightest pressure, watching as your mouth falls open on instinct. You're not sure whether you breathe or whimper, but it makes his gaze go impossibly darker, makes his hips roll against yours in response.

And then his thumb is there, pressing against your tongue, and—goddamn him—you're sucking without a second thought. The groan he lets out is a shattered thing, low and guttural, as though he's just as wrecked as you.

For three glorious seconds, he just... freezes. Like his brain's temporarily offline, like you've actually managed to short-circuit whatever smooth operator routine he had going.

And okay, maybe that gives you enough time to yank the dress out the rest of the way, tossing it off your bent elbows in a way that you hope was sexier than it felt. He doesn’t seem to notice—too busy looking at you like he's forgotten how he got here. Or how to breathe.

Either way, it's a little distracting.

But then he's moving, yanking his hand back like you've scorched him. And before you can even process the loss, he's sliding down your body, trailing open-mouthed kisses that make your skin come alive.

Your tipsy brain tries to catch up with what's unfolding—manages to register the flex of his shoulders, the heat of his mouth marking a path down your stomach, the way his hands are suddenly gripping your thighs and—

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He pulls you to the edge of the bed like you weigh nothing, kneeling between your spread legs like he belongs there. And how he looks up at you through his lashes, mouth hovering just inches from where you're absolutely drenched through your panties...

You prop yourself up on your elbows because fuck if you're missing this show. The movement makes your head spin slightly—reminder that you are definitely not sober—but the sight of him between your thighs is worth any potential vertigo.

His breath fans hot against your core, and your hips twitch involuntarily. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth, but before you can call him out on it, he's leaning in. Pressing his open mouth against you through the thin fabric of your underwear, and—

"Fuck."

The word tears from your throat unbidden because holy shit, this shouldn't feel this good already. It's barely anything—just the heat of his mouth, the slight pressure of his tongue through fabric—but your body's lighting up like a fucking supernova. Like every nerve ending is suddenly dialed to a hundred.

Your fingers find his hair without conscious thought, tangling in the dark strands as he works you through your panties. The grip of his hands on your thighs tightens in response, and fuck—that's definitely going to leave marks.

And okay, yeah. Maybe you're embarrassingly wet. Maybe you can feel it soaking through the fabric, making everything slick and messy. Maybe you should care about that, about being this affected this quickly.

But you don’t. Not really, with the way he's groaning against you like he's dying for it. Like he can't get enough. Yeah, dignity can take a backseat.

Besides, all thoughts of pride or shame fly right out the window when he finally, finally hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. Your hips lift automatically, helping him slide them down your legs. They catch on your heels because of course you're still wearing your fuck-me pumps, but he doesn't seem to mind. Just lets the fabric dangle from one ankle as he dives back in, and—

"Holy shit."

His tongue drags up your slit in one long, deliberate stroke, and your brain temporarily stops working. Like, full system shutdown. Windows XP error sound and everything. Because fuck—that shouldn't feel as mindbogglingly good as it does.

Then he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you make this absolutely mortifying noise—some choked little "guh" that would humiliate you if you were sober enough to care. His lip ring adds this extra edge of sensation that makes your thighs quake, cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He makes this sound against you—something between a hum and a growl (and okay, yeah, maybe 'growl' isn't the right word because what are you, fucking animals? But you're drunk and getting your pussy eaten properly for the first time in forever, so vocabulary can fuck right off). Whatever it is, it vibrates through you in a way that has your hips jerking up, seeking more.

Then he's doing these small, slow circles around your clit. So. Fucking. Slow. Like he wants to drive you crazy, wants you to fucking writhe against him. You try not to just grind up against his face. Because that would be desperate, right? That would be—

Damn.

The circles suddenly get faster, tighter, more intense. His tongue flicking over your clit with the kind of speed and precision that would put Fast & Furious to shame. And the sounds coming out of your mouth? Yeah, those aren't even words anymore. Just a stream of "oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck."

If Emma’s home—because it’s probably been an hour already—she’s probably getting one hell of a show through these paper-thin walls. But you know what? She fucking owes you. All those times you covered for her sneaking out to Bobby Martinez's house in high school? Yeah, consider this payback with interest.

He drags his tongue back down, gathering your wetness (and okay, yeah, you're basically flooding at this point but whatever), then slides back up. Adding texture to his movements like some kind of oral sex virtuoso. Because apparently this stranger knows exactly what he's doing with that mouth, and honestly? Good for you. You deserve this. You deserve to have your pussy eaten by someone who treats it like a goddamn art form.

So you lean back, let yourself enjoy it. Let him explore and taste and fuck—the way he's absolutely feasting on you like you're his last meal. His tongue finds your clit again, and this time he sucks it into his mouth, and the sound that rips from your throat probably violates noise ordinances in several states.

The wet sounds of his mouth on you are absolutely obscene. Like, pornographic-level obscene. All sucking and slurping and Jesus fucking Christ, you should not find that as hot as you do. But with your stiletto digging into his back (when did that happen?) and his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints...

Yeah. Yeah, definitely hot.

Then his tongue drags down, down, down—and fuck, you can feel every ridge, every texture against your sensitive flesh. He reaches your entrance and just... circles it. Like he's mapping you out. Like he’s thinking about his next move.

Five blessed seconds where you can actually catch your breath. Where your brain starts to come back online and—

Fuck.

His tongue plunges into you without warning and your hand definitely just yanks out some of his hair but who fucking cares because his nose is nudging your clit while he tongue-fucks you and—and—

And your brain's offline again. Good talk.

He adjusts his arms, somehow pulling you even closer to his face. As if you weren't already basically smothering him. As if he literally wants to drown in your cunt. And that thought shouldn't be as scorching hot as it is but holy shit.

A moan tears from your throat—loud enough that Emma's probably googling noise complaint laws right now. But you can feel it building, that telltale tightening, that electric tension spreading through your core. Your clit's throbbing in time with your racing pulse and—

And he doesn't change a thing.

Because this guy? This absolute genius between your legs? He knows better than to pull that amateur hour bullshit where they speed up right when you're close. No, he maintains the exact same rhythm, the exact same pressure that got you here. Like he's done this before. Like he actually pays attention to what works.

(And okay, maybe you shouldn't be thinking about his past experience right now but your brain's kind of shorting out so whatever.)

Your stiletto digs deeper into his shoulder—might actually be drawing blood at this point but he doesn't seem to care one iota. If anything, he groans against you like he's getting off on it. Like pain turns him on. And that's...that's definitely something to stash away for later.

Or never. Because this is a one-time thing. Right. Focus.

Except focusing is basically impossible when he's eating you out like it's his actual job. When the pressure's building and building and—

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Your back arches off the bed like you're auditioning for America's Next Top Model: After Dark Edition. The orgasm hits you like a riptide, waves of pleasure so intense your vision actually whites out for a second. Your thighs clamp around his head, heel probably leaving permanent marks on his back, and you're definitely making sounds that would make a porn star blush but—

But holy shit.

His tongue flicks over your oversensitive clit one last time—the absolute bastard—and your whole body jerks as you whimper. Which, okay, definitely earned that one. Because holy fuck.

You slump back against the bed, bones liquified, as he prowls up your body. His hands plant on either side of your face and—wow, okay, up close he's even more unfairly beautiful. All sharp jawline and scorching eyes and lips that are literally glistening with...yeah.

"You taste exactly like you smell," he murmurs, and what kind of weird-ass compliment is that? Like, thanks? Good to know your pussy matches your perfume brand?

Except...it kind of works? Something tingles in your face and no. Absolutely not. You are not getting all swoony just because Hot Stranger is saying vaguely poetic shit during sex. This is just your horny lizard brain going 'hot man say words, neurons go brr.' That's all.

Then his mouth is on your neck and—yeah, okay, thinking is canceled anyway. His hands trace maddening patterns down your stomach, feather-light touches that make your muscles jump. And when he tugs his briefs down, his cock springs free and—

Oh.

Well then.

Your body apparently didn’t get the memo about the standard refractory period because hello, Round Two suddenly seems very appealing. It hasn’t even been five minutes since you came but here you are, already clenching around nothing like some kind of sex-starved teenager.

He leans back slightly, reaching for something and—ah. His jeans. More specifically, his wallet. From which he produces not one but multiple condoms, and honestly? We love a prepared king. Nothing hotter than a guy who practices safe sex without having to be asked.

(And yes, you're literally evaluating his sexual responsibility while naked and still tingling from one of the best orgasms of your life. Sue you.)

He grabs one condom and tosses the others somewhere on the bed. Then—because apparently he's auditioning for some porno-meets-action-movie hybrid—he puts the wrapper between his teeth. Locks eyes with you. Rips it open.

And okay, PSA time: Kids (not that any kids should be reading this, what the fuck brain?)—this is not how you open condoms. Use your fingers like a normal person, not your teeth like some kind of sexual menace. That's literally Condom Safety 101.

But then again, when a guy this stupid hot does literally anything, your brain just kind of... accepts it. Like yeah, sure, demolish that condom wrapper with your teeth while maintaining smoldering eye contact. That's normal. That's fine. You're fine.

He gives the condom a cursory check (okay, at least he's being thorough), pinches the tip between his fingers and you just... watch. Wait.

"You gonna fuck me tomorrow or...?" The words slip out before your self-censor can nab them, biting and teasing.

Bad choice.

His hand—his stupidly large, stupidly warm hand—wraps around your thigh and yanks you down the bed in one fluid motion. And why the fuck is that so hot? Why are you noticing how his fingers practically span your whole thigh? Why is the heat of his palm against your skin making your breath catch?

Your eyes flicker back to his cock and—oh. When did he even get the condom on? You must have missed that while you were having your crisis about his hands. But he's ready now, thick and hard and—

Fuck.

He pushes in with one swift motion and your body just... takes him. Like you're literally eager for it, still slick and open from his mouth. He makes this soft gasping sound like he's actually dying, like your cunt is some kind of religious experience.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, hips flush against yours. "So fucking slippery and warm, feels like silk—"

"That's—ah—what happens when you eat someone out properly," you manage, even as your walls flutter around him. Because apparently your mouth doesn’t know when to quit, even with a dick inside you.

His laugh is rough, breathless.

"I’ll keep that in mind."

And fuck—the way he says it, like a promise, like a threat. Your cunt clenches at the thought and he actually growls.

He pushes your thighs down against the mattress and—ow. Okay, that's definitely going to hurt tomorrow. Future You is probably already plotting Present You's murder, adding your name to some karmic hit list right next to Emma’s (who, let’s be real, is definitely contemplating homicide through these paper-thin walls right now).

But then he starts moving and—oh.

Oh fuck.

Every coherent thought evaporates because he's burying himself so deep you swear he's trying to carve out a permanent place inside you. Like he wants your body to remember exactly how he feels, wants to leave an impression that'll last long after tonight.

You didn’t even get a proper look at his size earlier (too busy fizzing over his hands, his mouth, literally everything else), but holy shit. What you do know is he's thick—like, properly thick. Every inch of him pressed against your walls like he's trying to eliminate any space between you, like he's mapping out your insides for future reference.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, and you actually feel him twitch inside you. "So fucking—"

"Less talking," you manage to gasp out, "more moving."

His laugh is rough, breathless. "As you wish."

He snaps his hips once—testing, exploring—and your breath hitches in your throat. Then again. And again. Quick thrust in, torturously slow pull out, and every single time has you gasping like some Victorian maiden with a too-tight corset.

"Like that?" He sounds way too smug for someone balls-deep in a stranger. "The way you squeeze me every time I—"

"You always this chatty during sex?" Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, but whatever. "Or am I just special?"

Another snap of his hips that makes your eyes roll back. "Maybe I just like the sounds you make when I'm inside you."

And fuck—why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot. You're still so wet from earlier that you can hear it, can feel how smoothly he glides in and out, nice and easy.

"You're certainly—ah—confident," you manage between thrusts, because apparently your mouth doesn’t know when to quit. "Compensating for something?"

His grip on your thighs tightens. "Want me to stop and let you check?"

"Don’t you fucking dare."

His pace quickens and—oh hello, is that a smirk he's biting back? It is. It absolutely fucking is. And your brain, your stupid, traitorous brain, finds that scorching. Because of course it does. You squint your eyes shut because you can’t deal with how cocky he looks right now, can’t process how that cockiness is actually doing it for you.

Congratulations, you've officially lost it. This is your villain origin story. Death by dick-induced insanity. They'll write case studies about you in Psychology Today: "Local Woman's Brain Melts Because Hot Stranger Has Good Dick Game." Your mother would be so proud.

But also? Also shut the fuck up, brain, because you're literally getting the best dick of your life right now so maybe save the self-reproach for later? Like, there's a time and place for your characteristic overthinking and this ain’t it.

He leans forward then, changing the angle as he chases your mouth, and holy fuck. Each thrust goes deeper, harder, faster—like he's trying to reach parts of you no one else has touched. His kiss is messy, all tongue and teeth and desperation, and you're actually whimpering into his mouth like some kind of—

Wait.

Hold the fucking phone.

Since when do you whimper? What is this, some kind of Harlequin romance novel? Are you secretly the protagonist of a Fabio-covered paperback? Because you don’t whimper. You don’t make these soft, needy little sounds into strange men’s mouths. That’s not your brand. That’s not—

But then he rolls his hips in this way that makes you see actual fucking stars, and okay, you know what? Fuck your brand. Fuck everything. Because the way he's moving? The way he's filling you up like you're some kind of horny piñata? Yeah, that takes precedence over your identity crisis.

And speaking of crises—why does this feel so fucking good? Like, mathematically speaking, dick is dick. It's basic anatomy. Tab A into Slot B. So why does every thrust feel like he's rewriting the laws of physics? Why does your body respond to him like he's got some kind of sexual Midas touch?

The worst part? The absolute worst part? You can feel another orgasm building already. Which is ridiculous. Impossible. You literally came like ten minutes ago. This man hasn’t even finished once and here you are, ready to go again like some kind of horny Energizer bunny.

You need to have a serious conversation with your pussy about standards and expectations. Like, what happened to the refractory period? What happened to playing hard to get? Because this? This instant response to everything he does? This eager little flutter every time he hits that spot just right?

This is just embarrassing.

But also really, really fucking good.

"You take my cock so fuckin' well," he groans against your neck, voice rough and slurred. "Like y'were made for it, so perfect—"

And okay, what kind of porn dialogue bullshit is that? Who actually says things like that during sex? More importantly, why is it working? Why does every filthy word from his mouth send electricity shooting straight to your cunt?

"Hnnngh—"

That's it. That's all you can manage because your brain-to-mouth filter is totally fried. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he hits that spot just right, and you're pretty sure you're leaving marks but whatever. Future Him problems.

"F-fuck, how you clench around me when I say shit like that," his words come out breathless, hitching. "Like hearing how good you feel? How tight and wet and fucking flawless—"

"Shut up." But it comes out more like a whine than a command, completely undermining any attempt at snark. Your walls flutter around him traitorously, and his responding groan vibrates through your whole body.

"Make me," he challenges, punctuating it with a particularly vicious thrust that has your eyes rolling back. "Or maybe you don't want me to? Maybe you secretly get off on—fuck—on hearing how amazing you are, how nobody's ever swallowed me this deep before—"

"Nghh—" Your brain's offline. Completely fucking offline. No thoughts, head empty, just the overwhelming sensation of him moving inside you, the heat of his breath against your neck, the absolute filth falling from his lips.

"S'true though," he pants, pace growing erratic. "Never felt anything like this, like your—oh fuck—"

A moan tears from your throat—loud and wanton and utterly mortifying. But you can't help it, not when he's fucking you like he's trying to ruin you for anyone else, not when he keeps saying these things that make your insides turn to molten lava.

"That's it, lemme hear you," he encourages, and you want to punch him for how smug he sounds but you also want him to never stop. "Love the sounds you make when I'm deep in this pussy, when I—shit—"

His voice catches as you deliberately tighten around him, a small victory that makes you smirk despite how your body's on fire.

"Fuck, you're evil."

"You talk too much," you manage to get out between gasps, even as your hips chase his rhythm desperately. You're close—so fucking close—but not quite there.

He laughs against your neck, the sound dark and promising.

“Touch yourself for me."

When you don't immediately comply—because for some reason you still want to challenge him—he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye.

"Rub that pretty clit, show me how you like it."

The command in his voice shouldn't turn you on this much. "Make me," you challenge, because apparently your mouth has a death wish.

"Oh?"

His rhythm slows to something torturous, each thrust deep and deliberate. "Do I need to show you where it is? Guide those lovely fingers myself?"

You're about to snark back when his hand slides between your bodies, and—oh. Oh.

"Found it," he says with infuriating smugness, circling your clit with practiced ease. Your whole body jerks at the contact, oversensitive and desperate. "Seems like I know exactly where it is. Don't I?"

"Fuck—" Your voice breaks as he applies just the right amount of pressure, the bastard. "You're so—nghh—"

"I'm so what?" He's grinning now, you can hear it in his voice even as you squeeze your eyes shut. "C'mon, tell me. Use your words."

"Insufferable," you grit out, but your body betrays you, arching into his touch. "Arrogant—ah—asshole—"

"Maybe." His fingers speed up, matching the pace of his thrusts, and holy shit you're going to die. "But I'm an arrogant asshole who's about to make you cum again, aren't I?"

He's right and you hate it. Hate how well he reads your body, hate how he found your clit without hesitation like he's got some kind of carnal GPS, hate how fucking good he is at this.

"That's it," he encourages as your breathing hitches, as your nails dig into his shoulders. "Let me feel you fall apart. Wanna feel this cunt clamp down on my cock when you—"

His hips stutter and you can feel him pulsing inside you, even through the condom. The way his whole body tenses, the broken sound he makes against your throat—it pushes you right over the edge. Yeah. Your second orgasm says hi; has you curling your toes against his back, tensing your thighs around him as if he would ever dream of leaving right now.

"Fuck fuck fuck—" You're not even sure which one of you is saying it anymore. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe you're having an out-of-body experience because Jesus Christ.

For a moment, there's just silence. Just breathing. Just the sound of your heart trying to recall its normal cadence. Then he chuckles against your cheek—a low, sated sound that you'll deny remembering tomorrow—and follows it with a quick nip that makes you jolt.

"Fuck, that was good," he breathes, still catching his breath.

"S'alright," you manage, even though your legs are literally jelly and your brain's still rebooting.

He pulls back just enough to quirk an eyebrow at you, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. "Just alright?"

"Fishing for compliments?" You raise your own eyebrow, trying to ignore how his hand is still absently stroking your hip. "That's kind of desperate."

"Says the girl who came twice."

And—okay, rude. Accurate, but rude.

He shifts then, carefully pulling out (and at least he's considerate about it, making sure not to hurt you), and starts dealing with the condom. But then he just... stands there. Looking lost. Condom in hand and this adorably bemused expression that makes something in your chest do a weird little flip.

No. Not adorable. Nothing about this guy is adorable. Hot? Yes. Skilled with his tongue? Abso-fucking-lutely. But not adorable. You refuse to find anything about him cute, especially not the way he's glancing around the room like a lost puppy trying to figure out where to—

You can't stifle the snort that escapes you. "Trash can's over there, genius." You gesture with your head toward the small bin by the dresser. "Try not to get lost on the way."

He rolls his eyes but moves across the room, and you definitely don't watch the play of muscles in his back as he walks. Or the way his ass looks in the dim light. Or how his hand rakes through his tousled hair as he leans down to dispose of the condom and—

Fuck.

Fuck.

Because here's the thing: you've had one-night stands before. You know how this goes. Quick fuck, awkward goodbye, never see each other again. That's the routine. That's the protocol. That's what smart, sensible people do.

But.

But you're already thinking about how his mouth felt between your legs. About how he filled you up just right. About how he seemed to know exactly what to do with his hands, his hips, his—

And you know what? Fuck it. Fuck being sensible and sane. Fuck playing it cool. You've got a hot guy with stellar dick game right here, right now. Might as well take advantage while you can.

Before your brain can talk you out of it, you're launching yourself off the bed. Your legs are still a bit wobbly (thanks, Mr. Two Orgasms), but you manage to catch him just as he turns around. Your mouth crashes into his, messy and demanding, as you push him against the wall.

His surprised grunt turns into a pleased hum against your lips, and his hands immediately find your hips like they belong there. Like this is exactly what he was hoping would happen.

Cocky bastard.

He spins you around so fast your head spins—or maybe that's just the lingering vodka. Either way, suddenly your back's hitting the wall and—oh. Okay. This is happening. Again. Because apparently your body doesn't give two shits about being thoroughly fucked already.

His mouth crashes back into yours, hungry and insistent, and it should be gross really—you can taste yourself on his tongue, everything's messy and uncoordinated and frantic. But instead it's just...hot. So fucking hot you feel like you're melting from the inside out.

Then his hands slide down to your thighs and he's lifting you like you weigh zilch (and seriously, what is it with this guy and manhandling? More importantly, why do you like it?). Your legs wrap around his waist automatically, and how his cock twitches against your stomach—already getting hard again—should not make you feel this smug.

"Eager?" you manage to gasp between kisses, because apparently your mouth doesn't know when to quit.

He bites your bottom lip in response, just hard enough to make you whimper (and fuck, there's that sound again, what is wrong with you tonight?). "I’m sorry? Weren’t you the one jumping me?”

"Just felt sorry for you." The words come out breathier than intended as his mouth finds that spot behind your ear. "Standing there looking all lost with your used condom—"

His growl cuts you off, vibrating through his chest into yours. One of his hands tangles in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat, and—fuck. The way he attacks your neck like he's trying to mark you up, like he wants everyone to know exactly what you've been doing...

Then his mouth finds yours again, swallowing whatever protest you might have made. And it's different this time—sloppier, needier. All clashing teeth and warring tongues and his hands everywhere at once. You're pressed so tightly between him and the wall you can feel every twitch of his muscles, every stuttered breath.

One of his hands slides up your thigh, fingertips trailing fire in their wake, and you're already embarrassingly slick again. Already aching for him like you didn't just have him inside you minutes ago. Your hips roll against him craving friction, and the sound he makes—half groan, half snarl—shoots straight between your legs.

"Condom," you gasp against his mouth. "Need a—"

"Yeah," he breathes, but he doesn't move away. Just keeps kissing you like he's suffocating and you're oxygen, like he can't bear to stop even for a heartbeat. "Yeah, just—fuck, you feel so good—"

Your brain's rapidly disintegrating, especially with the way he keeps grinding against you, the way his mouth keeps doing that to your neck. But you manage to remember: "Bed. Other condoms. On the bed."

He makes this sound of acknowledgment but still doesn't budge, just shifts his hips in a way that has his cock sliding against your clit and—jesus fuck.

"If you don't get a condom right now," you warn, voice embarrassingly unsteady, "I'm going to kill you."

His laugh is rough, breathless. "Such violence."

He practically teleports to the bed—like, Olympic-level sprinting for that condom. It'd be comical, the way he fumbles with the wrapper (apparently Mr. Smooth isn't so smooth when he's desperate), except you're too busy being embarrassingly turned on by his urgency.

You're about to suggest moving to the bed—because your legs are already shaking and wall sex seems ambitious after two orgasms—but—

Holy fuck.

He's got you up against the wall again in one fluid motion, hands gripping your thighs as he lines himself up and—oh god. The sound that rips from your throat as he fills you in one swift thrust is utterly shameful. But the broken "fuck" that falls from his lips? How his whole body shudders as he bottoms out?

Yeah, okay. Maybe worth the mortification.

"Jesus fuck," he breathes against your neck, voice wrecked. "You feel—shit, how do you feel even better than before?"

"Hush it," you gasp, even as your walls flutter around him. "And move."

He laughs, breathless and gritty. "Demanding little thing." But he's already moving, setting a pace that has your head lolling back. "God, you’re even wetter than before, taking me so well—”

"That your professional opinion?" Your attempt at snark falls flat when it comes out as more of a moan. "Done extensive research, have you?"

His hips snap up particularly hard at that. "Never—fuck—never felt anything like this."

And that should be a line. That should be the kind of bullshit guys say during hookups to stroke their own egos. Except the way he says it—all breathless wonder and raw honesty—makes something hot unfurl in your chest.

"Yeah?" It comes out embarrassingly breathy, but whatever. Can’t really care when every thrust is melting honey down your spine. "Prove it."

He makes this sound—half growl, half moan—like he fucking loves your audacity. "Already made you come twice."

"Maybe I was faking."

"Sweetheart, nobody's that good an actress."

And honestly? Fair. But you're not about to admit that, not when he's already so smug about how well he plays your body. Instead, you drag him down for a kiss that's more teeth than finesse, swallowing his groans as his pace gets more erratic.

"F-fuck," he pants against your mouth. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna feel you—"

"Big talk for someone who—ah—hasn't delivered yet."

His responding thrust makes your back arch off the wall. "Jus’ wait."

His hips snap up harder at your challenge, making your head thump back against the wall. And fuck—the way he's moving now, all rough desperation and graceless rhythm. Everything's wet and messy and absolutely filthy, the sounds of skin on skin blending with your breathless moans.

"Still—ah—ah—waiting for that delivery," you manage, even as your nails dig into his shoulders.

"Fuckin’—" His breathless laugh is menacing. "Always—fuck—gotta have the last word, don’tcha?”

You'd have a comeback for that, you really would, except he chooses that moment to shift his angle and—holy shit. Because now? Now his pubic bone grinds against your clit every time he moves, every time he thrusts deep inside you. And honestly? Fucking unfair that even his bones know where your clit is.

You can feel him twitching inside you, can tell he's close by the way his breath comes in harsh pants against your neck. And you're almost there too, just need a little more—

But then he's groaning, hips stuttering as he cums. His whole body tenses, pressing you flatter against the wall as he empties into the condom.

And okay, great for him, congratulations, but you were so fucking close.

You tap his back urgently. "Keep goin’."

"What?" He's still catching his breath, forehead pressed against your shoulder. "Gimme a second, ah—I just—"

"I was—right there," you whine (and yes, you're actually whining now, this is what you've been reduced to). "Don't you dare stop."

He lifts his head, looking at you incredulously. "I literally just filled the condom—"

"I don't give a fuck, just move."

And okay, yeah, PSA time number two: This is definitely not safe sex practice. The second a condom's full, it needs to be changed. That's like, Sex Ed 101. But also? Also your clit is throbbing and you were this close to coming and your horny lizard brain has completely taken over.

"Jesus," he breathes, but he's already starting to move again, shallow little thrusts that make your eyes roll back. "You're fucking insatiable."

"Like earlier," you gasp, grinding down against him. "With the… with your hipbone."

He laughs against your neck—a rough, breathless sound that shouldn't be as arousing as it is. "Gotcha."

And he does. Repositions himself, makes sure he’s got exactly the same position he had earlier. His hipbone comes in contact with your clit as he begins thrusting faster again, and fucking yeah, that’s what you needed.

"Fuck, the way you feel," he groans. "So slick and snug and—shit—"

"Shut up shut up shut up—"

Because you can't handle his voice right now, can't deal with how his words make the drowning sensation grow more and more intense by the second. You're so close you can taste it, right on the precipice, just need a little more—

Then he nips at your neck, his tongue flattening against your pulse point. And that's it. You're a goner. Again. For the third time tonight.

Your entire body locks up as bliss courses through, lapping at your core like waves at a shore. Your eyes instinctively close as you relish it in all its intensity, and you're pretty sure you make some kind of mortifying noise but whatever. Three orgasms in, dignity is a distant memory.

He slows his movements gradually, letting you ride it out, and you can feel him softening inside you. Your head drops to his shoulder because keeping it upright seems like way too much effort right now. The residual booze is hitting different after getting thoroughly wrecked—everything soft and fuzzy around the edges.

You vaguely register him checking the condom with his free hand—the other one still supporting your ass because apparently you're not ready to unwrap your legs from his waist yet. Your brain's moving in slow motion, heavy with alcohol and mist and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that only comes from really good sex.

"Hey." He taps your back lightly. "You falling asleep on me? Dick game that good?"

"Die," you mumble into his shoulder, not even bothering to lift your head. "Just... shut up and die."

You hear him chuckle, vaguely. It should be irritating. It isn't. You're too drained to care. Everything's warm and hazy and your limbs feel like they're crafted from lead.

You're only half-aware of him moving you to the bed, of sheets being pulled up, of a warm body pressing against your back. Your consciousness is already drifting, floating in that space between awake and asleep where nothing quite computes.

The last thing you register, right before slumber claims you completely, is his nose pressed against your neck and his drowsy murmur:

“Smell like vanilla now too."

⋆｡°✩ TAGLIST ✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook

© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[sseulforgii]

stay a little longer

Kim Minjeong x Reader

a/n: I just have Rosé’s album on repeat and I can’t get this out of my head. I'm sorry, I know it's Christmas 😭

thank you @rd0265667 and @seullovesme for going over this first. mwa!

Minjeong woke up from a fitful sleep. It's been days since she's been like this, a heavy pit in her stomach whenever she wakes up. She looks over to where you are sleeping turned away from her. You were in the same bed and yet you seem so far away from each other. With a heavy sigh she got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

Unbeknownst to Minjeong, you have been awake too. In fact, you haven't slept for days since you felt something shift in your relationship but you kept it all to yourself. You found yourself just watching her sleep sometimes seeing how peaceful she is and you wish nothing more for her to always have that kind of peace even as you swallow a lump forming in your throat and tears forming in your eyes. You made yourself smaller on your side of the bed when you felt her move and pretended to sleep. It was easier that way. You didn't wanna see her pretend to be okay this early in the morning, as much as you can, you'd give her space.

When Minjeong was dressed and ready to go, she stood by the door of your bedroom looking at you curled up on the bed. She doesn't know how to feel or what to do so she just looked at you for a little while more before eventually deciding to go near you.

You heard her footsteps coming and you were surprised but tried to breathe evenly. You didn't want to move 'cause you didn't wanna startle her and lose a brief moment you might share.

Minjeong crouched down in front of you and traced your cheek with her finger. She smiled a little, your cheeks were still her favorite to pinch and poke after all. She contemplated on kissing your forehead but decided against it in case you suddenly wake up. She was in no state to see your sleepy brown eyes staring back at her. So she got up and looked at you one last time before leaving.

You were holding your breathe the whole time as well as the tears that's starting to form in your eyes. You wished so bad that she would either stop or just kiss you and shower you with affection. But you felt her move and heard her receding footsteps. When the door finally closed, you felt your tears flowing. You were catching your breath by the time you realized you were crying and you didn't know how to stop.

Minjeong was trying her best to act normal around you. She really wanted this to work out, but somewhere down the road she fell out of love. She feels so guilty about it and she tries her hardest to keep you happy and not let you know anything's wrong. She's thinking she'll be able to keep it up long enough for her to go back to how she feels for you. After all, she was the one who wanted you first so why does it feel like this now for her? And she can tell that you love her still with every smile and every affection thrown at her, and yet she feels like you're holding yourself back at times. It makes her wonder if you can feel it too - that subtle shift somewhere.

You and Minjeong weren't always like this. You're such a goofy pair - a perfect match as your friends say. You were both so smart and share almost the same likes. You always loved how witty and creative Minjeong is. Minjeong adores how sweet and kind you are. While Minjeong is quiet at times, you are bustling with energy and talks a lot and she listens to you with so much adoration in her eyes that you tend to shy away at times or get conscious about it. But she always assures you that she loves it. Both of you balance each other out that way.

Recently, you often get conscious about talking too much when you spend time with her, that you tend shy away and just sit quietly at dinner or when watching a movie with her. Only this time, there's only guilt in Minjeong's eyes that she's trying so hard to hide from you. Now you're both walking on a tightrope trying your hardest not to let each other fall off.

You were both trying. Minjeong, so clueless of what you are feeling, thinks she can still salvage what's left of your relationship. You, on the other hand, are just barely keeping it together although you know it's probably time to let her go.

So you made up your mind. You planned a perfect weekend together, which surprised Minjeong but she went along with it thinking maybe this is a good thing for the both of you. While in your mind, you're already pleading that this will make her stay with you longer, even though you know it is a battle you already lost.

You cooked all her favorite food, watched her favorite movie, talked about her work, and played lots of games. It was fun for the both of you. You were both genuinely smiling and laughing, but you can see the sadness behind it. You can sense how bittersweet the day was as it came to an end.

You smiled at Minjeong and took her hand as you guided her outside the balcony to look at the night sky. She was looking at you, you can feel it. You sighed and looked at her as you hold back tears. "Thank you for such a wonderful day, Minjeong." You say as you rub circles on the back of her hand. A nervous habit you sort of picked up when you're trying to soothe both her and yourself. She smiles at you, "of course. I had fun today."

You take a shaky breath and look out the horizon. "Minjeong, can I ask you something?" Her brows furrowed as she squeezed your hand. "Of course, baby. What is it?" She asks, and you almost melt as your tears start to well up when you heard her call you baby. You stumble over your words, trying to form a coherent thought. Minjeong looks over at you worriedly and squeezes your hand once more.

“I don’t know how to form it into words,” you confess. Minjeong tries her best to soothe you, “it’s okay, baby. Just try and I’ll understand.” You look at her and you see worry and guilt swimming in her eyes. It was all the push that you needed to finally let her go.

“Minjeongie, are you…” you choked back a sob and looked elsewhere before continuing. “Are you happy?” It was followed by complete and utter silence. You were scared to look over at her and so you continue after taking a huge breath. “Do you still want this? Us? Because honestly, Minjeong, you can tell me if this is no longer what you want. I’d rather lose you than see you so unhappy.”

You closed your eyes for a bit and steadied your breathing before risking a peak at the girl beside you. She was looking ahead with such somber eyes that it broke your heart further and cemented the thought that this was the right thing to do. “Have you been feeling that way for a long time now?” She softly asked. You owed her the truth no matter how much you wanna sugar coat everything. “Yeah, for a while now,” you replied just as quietly - afraid that if you say it louder it will become more true.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. You shake your head smiling at her although you’re in the brink of breaking down. “It’s nothing to be sorry about. If anything, I’m sorry. I knew for a while now and I still held on. I wanted you to stay a little longer, but each passing day I feel I’m being more of a burden than a rest for you and I don’t want that.” Minjeong held on to you tighter, trying to convey her feelings as she knows she won’t be able to put it into words.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again and you close your eyes as you feel her pull you in for a hug. You savor the moment, for you know this is all you have left. So with the last bit of your strength, you enveloped her tighter and you stayed this way for a little bit longer before you catch your breath and let her go.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Relationship Headcanons - Ganyu x Male!Reader

A/N1: This is a new format, and as such, it includes just one character. Do you think it's comprehensive enough, or is there something I missed?

A/N2: When I looked for a gif for this one, I found that the gif I used in the "at the dead of night" Ganyu fic is one of the first results when you search up her name. Nice to know I have somewhat of an impact, small as it may be.

A/N3: While I was thinking of making a Christmas special, I decided that the best gift for you guys would just be getting posts out more regularly - so I will post them at least twice a week for the next three weeks at the very least. Anyway, happy Christmas, and enjoy!

Loving Ganyu requires patience and the gentlest approach, but her affection eventually blossoms on its own. She just needs a bit of time and guidance - it's her first time, after all. 

Being a notoriously hardcore worker, at first she'll be absent from home for most of the day. Her work-life balance is completely off the rails, and Ganyu will need all the help she can get in overcoming her centuries old habits. Now she has someone, remind her. Tell her that this special someone cares for her very much and would rather not see her worn out like an old pair of boots each night. 

An important skill you have to teach her is saying the word “no”. “No, I won't accept overtime”. “No, I have plans this evening”. “No, putting the entirety of Qixin paperwork on my shoulders is not ethical or healthy - Ningguang needs more than three secretaries”. In time, Ganyu will find it in herself to set healthy boundaries on how much she works. True, helping Liyue grow and prosper is her passion, but enough is as good as a feast. 

Walk alongside her on this road. Visit her at work, if only to give her a simple kiss on the forehead. Make sure she comes up from the underworld of bureaucracy to the real world. Bring her light snacks. Ask her about her day. Remind her that there is someone waiting for her back home - she will appreciate that beyond words. 

Working for the Liyue Qixing means basically swimming in Mora - especially that Ganyu leads a rather humble lifestyle. She does, however, live in a very nice multi-story house with a large garden in the most scenic part of Liyue Harbor, with a skeleton crew of staff to maintain in her absence (that being most of the time). But besides that, her expenditures are very small and everything she doesn't need or put aside, she donates to charity. 

While having a boyfriend is nice, she would feel much better if she’d be able to refer to you as her husband instead. Especially that she would prefer to save herself for the wedding night, and make your first “proper” time really beautiful and special. Ganyu is also a bit subservient to you, used to the idea that the husband is the head of the house - no matter if she has more money. At the same time, she is happy to be taken care of and protected, so as long as you treat her right, she’ll be comfy. 

While Ganyu isn't one to insist on much in a relationship, she will encourage you to live with her. Her house is big and quite empty… Having you there would liven it up and surely make it much cozier. Coming home to a warm hug and a kiss from her lover is a dream come true…

In terms of past times, well… Ganyu doesn't have much. Her work is her main pastime, or was anyway, and she didn't really see a reason to look for other things to do in her spare time. Just a few conversations with you made her realise that, while you have a broad range of things to talk about, she doesn't quite compete in that regard. Hundreds of years of paperwork made poor Ganyu quite a one-note person, but she will work on that, don't worry. 

And so she will frequently come up with things to do, together. Would you like to go to a museum? Or see a movie from Fontaine? You don't have to go with her, but… It would be really nice if you did!

Have any problems at school or at work? Personal Secretary Ganyu is on the case! She's had lots of experience in all sorts of matters and will gladly put it to use in helping out her favourite person succeed. She's a patient teacher and never raises her voice, no matter how hard it is for you to learn or do something. With her backing you up, nothing is impossible. 

Ganyu, by her own admission, gains weight easily, so while the urge to fatten her up with love and Qixins is huge, she'll be grateful if you hold your horses. Her thoughts always spiral into self consciousness about weight, so it might be a good idea not to include chocolate. However, a more tender approach to her and her beautiful body - with countless kisses and words of affirmation - may change her outlook on herself. If you do get her something to eat, make sure to feed her - she couldn't say no to you. 

Arguments with Ganyu are white crows in your day-to-day life. Being a timid and easy going person, it takes an impossible amount of pressure to make Ganyu lose her composure. If that somehow happens, she will be so upset that her anger will almost instantly fade into tears. She just cannot fight with you. You mean far, far too much for her to be angry. No matter if it's her fault or yours, she will end up apologising for it profusely, hoping to get past this dreadful road bump. Ganyu knows that she is prone to doing this, and will try to be a bit more decisive, only to fail spectacularly. No matter - she trusts you to never abuse that part of her character. 

And don't you dare, Ganyu has to be protected at all costs. 

At home, she’s a quiet and busy presence - even if it happens to be that time of the month. Ganyu doesn’t really struggle with illnesses or bodily discomfort that much, for which she is really thankful to the fates. At most, when afflicted by either, she’ll get extra sleepy and will love some extra cuddles to make the pains go away. 

You are probably the only person in Teyvat that has the right to touch her horns. They are indeed sensitive, but with the right guidance, the feelings of having these caressed are simply divine. Having their horns touched is a very intimate experience for Qilin, and Ganyu is no different. It will always be in bed, cuddled into each other and falling asleep, or while engaging in more lively bedroom activities. 

Ganyu has some friends and family, and they are quite happy to keep an eye on her. Xianyun will make sure that you are a proper man worthy of her disciple’s hand, and when she does confirm that fact, expect to hear all about Ganyu’s early life, as well as past hobbies and habits; knowing them might prove useful even in the present day. She will also make frequent visits, if that’s something you are okay with. Shenhe, on the other hand, will not follow you around per se - not you as a couple, that is. Because she will keep an eye on you. If you ever raise your hand at Ganyu, expect to be skewered and served at the next Lantern Rite’s banquet. But as with Cloud Retainer, if you prove yourself to be a good man, expect the same level of protection for yourself - Shenhe knows that your safety is Ganyu’s happiness, and if anything were to happen to you, her adoptive sister would cry her soul out. 

Zhongli, being Zhongli, will gladly officiate the wedding. 

The secretary is a girl that goes to sleep and wakes up early. She eats healthy and exercises just enough to keep herself from rusting over. Her house is perfectly clean, both thanks to her own efforts and those of her staff, and full of well-tended plants. She's a neat, well-organized and healthy little goat. If it makes you feel bad for your own lifestyle (and it should), Ganyu will be happy to help you care for yourself by cooking healthy meals for you, reminding you of your goals and helping you be consistent. For what? Why, for the delightful moment when you look at yourself in the mirror and finally smile at all the work you have done. Your happiness is her happiness. 

Acts of service are her form of love. If you happen to come home later than her, you'll arrive to a nice bowl of warm soup, held by your dear wife. You casually mentioned that you need to, say, iron your shirt tomorrow? Ganyu's got you - even if she had to wake up that little bit earlier to do it. Maybe you're talking about a difficult achievement in one of your video games? If you teach her how to help, she'll be glad to tune in and grind with you. Whenever you act surprised at her actions, or say that she ‘didn’t have to’, Ganyu will always reply with a kind smile and reassurance - she does it because she loves you. 

She's the most receptive to physical touch. Sometimes things are going badly and the reasons for it are exhausting to put into words. Those days Ganyu would like nothing more than a simple embrace, your hand in hers, a gentle kiss on the forehead. Your touch reminds her that everything will be alright, and that she does not have to brave the world alone anymore. 

Thanks for reading!

[nakylvr]

dealer!dani angst 😭😭 (waiting for part 2).

dealer!dani is getting so popular omg… but hear me out… what if we had a streamer!megan?

-🪼

im gonna be so real i dont really watch streamers like. at all so thats why this took so long...but im here now!! so lets talk about it 😁

warnings/tags: fluff, streamer!megan, f!reader, mild language, established relationship, nsfw content under the cut

streamer!megan who told you that she was a streamer the second you asked why she had such a big recording set up in her bedroom, grinning while excitedly explaining everything to you. she knows most people don't think it's a real job, so she feels quite reassured when you tell her how cool you think it is that all she has to do is play video games while recording herself and she makes money off it. she goes into detail about every piece of her set up like it's her most prized possession, then turning red when realizing how much she was ranting about it before you assure her that it's cute to see her so excited about it

streamer!megan who unfortunately will keep you up in the middle of the night because she's streaming a brand new game that just released. even though she's usually quiet when she's focused on playing, she has to answer questions or comments people are putting in the chat. however if it's any type of fps, fortnite, or a scary game, she will probably start yelling halfway through leaving you throwing a pillow at her to either be quiet or turn it off. which she then apologizes over and over again the next morning when you clearly didn't sleep

streamer!megan who will try to make you play games with her, practically begging on her knees saying that she won't even be streaming and that she just wants to play with you. when you eventually give in she has you sitting there with her for hours playing different games to see what is the best for you and how you play in different games. she'll play fortnite with you, but she will probably end up leaving you behind or you end up dying because she didn't hear you ask her for bandages fifteen times. minecraft is probably the best bet for you two to play together unless it's a scary game, in which you two keep switching who's playing before just turning it off and attempting to sleep.

streamer!megan who will take you to E3 and other gaming conventions with her, even if you try to say no, she's already bought everything and it's all booked. she stays by your side the whole time, her hand never letting go of yours knowing how crowded and chaotic the environment of any convention can get. she buys everything she sees in sight along with anything you want, food, figurines, autographs, exclusive games, everything. she doesn't hesitate to spend her money on things you want or like, even if you try telling her you don't want it, she will still buy it for you. this does mean you have to meet other streamers as well at these conventions, but most of them are nice she reassures you and that she talks to a lot of them or plays with them

streamer!megan who accidentally revealed you to all her followers when she started a live while you were gone, forgetting you would be coming back resulting in you walking into her room and wrapping your arms around her shoulders, not realizing she was live while giving her a quick kiss. she freaks out the second after, and quickly starts explaining she's streaming and that everyone watching just saw, making you freeze thinking you fucked up. megan reassures you that you didn't mess anything up when she sees your face drop, grabbing your hand and pulling you onto her lap and deciding to take it as the opportunity to go public. needless to say, her fans love you

streamer!megan who essentially doesn't sleep, whether she's streaming or not she's playing games into the late night as you lay on the bed trying to convince her to sleep. you managed to come up with a few different ways to get her off the games, some not so as innocent as others when she isn't streaming. when she eventually goes to sleep it's so late that she's still asleep when you get up in the morning like normal, her arms around you in a tight grip to keep you from moving much, leaving you forced to sleep more. not that you'd complain. except for when she wakes up and whines about how tired she is and you tell her again that if she didn't stay up so late that she wouldn't be so tired

streamer!megan who eventually convinces you to play with her while she's streaming, telling you it'll be fun and that she promises she will be fair when playing (she cheats.). you tell her it has to be a game you like though, and she will agree immediately, grinning widely when it's all set up and she starts the live. that being said, no matter what game you're playing, she isn't really paying attention to the game or the chat like she normally would, instead her gaze keeps lingering on you as you genuinely enjoy playing with her while thousands of people watch. her fans notice it instantly, and when you realize and question her on it, she almost cries when explaining that it just makes her so happy to have someone who really enjoys being with her to the point they'd be live in front of thousands playing video games

streamer!megan who is so easy to shop for during the holidays or her birthday. all you have to do is go through her steam cart, see what new games have released she doesn't have yet, or look on gamestop and easily be able to find multiple things for her. she gets so excited, jumping up and down like s little kid no matter what she opens and gets, kissing you multiple times saying how much she loves and appreciates you

streamer!megan who you've figured out how to get her off the game when she's not streaming by touching yourself and purposefully emphasizing your moans just to see her head snap backwards with wide eyes when she hears what you're doing, immediately getting off the game no matter if she remembered to save the file or not

streamer!megan who begs to touch you when you're pleasuring yourself to get her off the game, only for you to tell her she isn't allowed to, causing her to whine and beg more to just get one taste of you

streamer!megan who you've eaten out while under her desk and she's streaming, your eyes staring up at her as she tries to keep quiet before ending up turning off the stream and game to grab your hair and push you closer to her

streamer!megan who's hands you've tied behind her back while she sits in her gaming chair and you give her a lap dance. she squirms around so much, begging you to untie her hands so she can touch you to the point tears well in her eyes

streamer!megan who asks if she can take pictures and even record during the act, promising they'll stay on her phone only solely for when you're not around and she's needy.

streamer!megan who sits you on her lap when she's playing and not streaming, not realizing the way you keep moving around until you're fully grinding against her thigh. her eyes go wide when she does realize, pausing the game to put her hands on your hips to drag you along her thigh, murmuring how dirty you are to act like this while she's playing

[synergysilhouette]

12 nitpicks with "Baldur's Gate 3"

This is a game I hadn't expected to love as much as I do--I think it's one of the best I've ever played--but just to play DA for a second, I thought I'd be nit-picky with some things about it (not that I'm ungrateful, Larian!)

Halsin's romance is rushed and lackluster--Halsin can only be recruited if you join the druids and tieflings against the goblins, and his storyline is only covered in Act II of the game with the Shadow Curse. Afterwards, he's just along for the ride, and if he becomes a love interest, you only get one romance scene followed by flowery words from him when addressing Tav, and the nature of your relationship is confusing, since Halsin finds the word foreign, emphasizes (optional) polyamory, and the implication from other love interests is that you're just sleeping with him. Seeing how the game was eventually patched so you could recruit both Halsin and Minthara, I do wish that it was made that way to begin with, with both of them having more pronounced arcs throughout the story. I have heard that they had cut content, so it'd be nice if it was reinstated someday.

2. The female companions are racially more diverse than the male companions--This isn't really an issue for me, but an observation; for female companions, we have a Githyanki, a drow, two half-elfs, and a tiefling, while for male companions we have two elves and three humans. I suppose they didn't wanna experiment too much for male companions, but I could've seen Halsin as a half-orc like Jord, and Wyll a dragonborn--not that I'd trade out their designs as-is; that's just an observation.

3. We get Yenna in our camp, and she adds nothing--After having the spirit of nature AND a tiefling with newly discovered magic powers in our camp in Act II, getting an average human kid in Act III just because felt dissatisfying. Yenna will come up to you, regardless of whether you're invisible or not, when she will tell you that she can't find her mom. After talking with her, she'll appear in camp a few days later and ask to stay. You can say "no," but it's a weird option anyway. Plus if you do as I did and just misty step off the cliff into town to avoid talking to her, she will still be Orin's victim if the others are not available, even if you never meet her (note: I do not know how this works if the other options aren't available and Yenna is dead). And even when you rescue her, there's the guilt because her mom and her cat are dead, so you kinda feel like you have to let her join. I'd much rather keep Arabella, or find a way for Thaniel and Oliver to bond and then separate, with one of them joining us on the journey if Halsin is recruited. Or another option...

4. Lae'zel and Shadowheart have similar storylines--While the details are different, the overall plot is the same; both women find out that they've been lied to by the culture they've grown up in, and have to decide how they feel about it. The difference is that Lae'zel can choose between helping Vlakith, Orpheus, or stay out of the Githyanki conflict, while Shadowheart just gets to choose between following Shar or turning her back on her. That said, Shadowheart's storyline is much more satisfying and emotional since the goddess erased her memory and now she has to decide how to take that. With Lae'zel, she never really evaluates what it means to be independent like Shadowheart does, first swearing loyalty to Vlakith, then joining Voss when she seems to be lying, and becoming intent on freeing Orpheus when she finds out he's been kept away. Only at the end can you tell her to find her own path. Because her culture highlights strength and a warrior lifestyle, the similar arc she has to Shadowheart can't be executed as well. In fact, one unique thing about Lae'zel's storyline never comes into play during the main story: the githyanki egg. She'll mention feeling bonded to it, and will say it hatched during the epilogue, and that she named him and wants him to choose his own path in life (which doesn't really fit if she chose to stay with Vlakith or Orpheus, imo). It would've been nice if Xan was hatched and kept in our camp, or if the egg is taken from us immediately after leaving the creche, and we have the option to rescue Xan from the SoB and let him join us.

5. Astarion's viewpoint/approval doesn't change--I'm in the minority here I'm sure, but given the sympathy people give Astarion due to his past as an abuse victim and Astarion learning to love himself, I do wish the change was a bit more impactful, with Astarion showing more compassion for others and certain altruistic or optimistic choices earning his approval. Even in Act III, there are a couple of times you get to say you can't believe he's letting his family be led to the slaughter or think of harming them. He'll respond that they're screwed anyway or that no one else looked out for him except you. It doesn't feel like as much progress has been made, and even after Cazador's mission, he's still himself, just with less burdens and more closure. His epilogue epiphany of people not minding you committing murder if it's bad people feels like something he should've learned along the way.

6. Romance initiation is based on the afterparty, for the most part--People will say that initiating a romance isn't dependent on the goblin/tiefling party, but I've only had ONE time where I had the chance to begin a romance began afterwards--or at least, one time where it was someone I was interested in (there were a couple times Lae'zel flirted with me). In my experience, it's very difficult to start a romance after the party, despite having a lot of approval. I'd rather there be a perpetual romance option to pick when talking to a companion, and them accepting once you have enough approval, rather than them coming to you.

7. Karlach's only ending is the "bad/sad" ending--As many will tell you, there was a planned Upper City portion of Act III that included furthering Karlach's quest, with the ending we got in the final version being the bad ending if we neglected her quest. I understand cutting content, but since literally EVERYONE ELSE'S fate is dependent on your decisions (Shadowheart and Lae'zel's loyalties, Wyll being a devil or not, Astarion completing the ritual and killing the spawn, killing Minsc and Jaheira leaving, saving Minthara, Halsin's resolving the Shadow Curse or not, Gale giving into his ambition), Karlach should've gotten the same treatment. If a section had to be removed, they could've moved her quests to the sections of the game that we did get.

8. Getting Minsc when we could've gotten Rolan--While Minsc is a neat companion to have, his lack of a storyline (outside of his recruitment) and being a non-romanceable companion makes him feel almost like a wasted slot to me. If we wanted to add another male companion, I definitely feel like Rolan would've been a better companion, coming across as a cross between Astarion and Gale due to his cockiness and ambitious nature. It'd be fun if he was recruited in Act II after rescuing his siblings; honestly, he wouldn't be on any worse footing than Minthara and Halsin for having limited content, but Rolan has the added benefit of having family that we can interact with, joining Wyll and Shadowheart as the few companions who do. In fact...

9. Only plot-relevant backstories--Okay, this is a real nit-pick, but that's the title of the post! For the most part, characters only mention their past in relation to their quests, though there are brief exceptions: Wyll, Minthara, and Karlach mentioning their mothers, and Tara mentioning Gale's mom. Maybe I just didn't get the dialogue, but I do wish we got more about each character's childhood/backgrounds--and not just in a one-convo-type thing like the aforementioned individuals. I guess I have to give Astarion a pass since he says that after being a vampire for centuries, he can't even remember his eye color, let alone his life before, aside from being a magistrate (which I find SUPER interesting). Plus it'd be interesting to hear more about old flames like Gale and Halsin mentioned, and the conquests Astarion reunited with as spawn.

10. Act II slimming down the number of tieflings--If you do nothing to help the tieflings or side with the goblins during the raid, all of the tieflings die. However, even if you side with the tieflings and defeat the goblins' leaders, several tieflings will die anyway. When cultists corner them in the shadowcursed lands, Zevlor is distracted by the Absolute while the other tieflings are kidnapped and brought to Moonrise Towers, find their way to the Last Light Inn, or are killed on the spot--or in the case of Arabella's parents, killed after escaping the cultists and trying to hide. While these things happen in war (or cultist territory), it felt disheartening to see that the people you went through all the trouble of saving died anyway. It's almost a waste.

11. To be young--This is really scrapping the bottom of the barrel, but I do wish we could make Tav look a bit younger (I think you can look younger than this picture, but this is just a visual aid). I also have this nit-pick for some of the companions, but I'm sure a mod for that will eventually be approved.

12. Getting companions to romance each other--This isn't something I need as much as the other things, but it's still something I thought about when watching origin playthroughs. To my understanding, they're all pansexual (personally I imagine Karlach, Astarion, Lae'zel, Jaheira, and Minthara as male-leaning pansexuals and Gale, Wyll, Shadowheart, Minsc, and Shadowheart as female-leaning pansexuals while Halsin is middle of the road; no idea why, just the vibes), and it'd be fun to pair them up together. Not saying there are endless combinations; I can imagine Gale/Astarion wouldn't be something that exists in the Tav route (especially after Astarion straight-up told me he doesn't want an open relationship/polycule with Gale), but Karlach/Wyll, Lae'zel/Shadowheart, Jaheira/Minsc, Karlach/Gale, Gale/Wyll, and Astarion/Halsin are ships I think of being possible.

Don't kill me! I already love the game as-is, but I did want to point these things out. I was also gonna include a other nitpicks such as the option to have kids/discussing it and Aylin/Isobel being active companions and not just space fillers at camp, but maybe I'll save that for another nitpick post.

[ladyloveandjustice]

A Ranking of the '4 Days of Ohtori: Someday My Revolution Will Come' Revolutionary Girl Utena Game Endings

I was commissioned to do a post ranking the endings of the Revolutionary Girl Utena dating sim based on quality and enjoyment! I did a liveblog for it for it a while ago, see here. If you know nothing about the game, I think you should read it and then come back to this post. It's a fun liveblog!

I was also asked to talk about if any of the endings work out well for the main character (who I call Purple Pigtails).

Basically all of the endings aren't ideal for Perfect Pigtails. Her dad is sick enough she has to leave Ohtori to help him iirc, she doesn't ever get to reconcile with Chigusa even though she badly wanted to (it's implied she had a crush on her despite everything, but she had to basically kill her). She also knows her dad's a piece of shit now, and that both her parents lied to her. I doubt she'll ever trust them again. She may even hate her Dad now. Her family was a lie, and that's very sad. On top of that, several of the endings imply she may come back to Ohtori which is honestly not a good thing for her!!! So none of them really work out for her, but I'm going to talk about which ones work out for her the least and the most as I rank the endings.

My favorite endings of the Utena video game, from best to worst:

Juri Ending

So, after much deliberation my favorite ending is the Juri one. The fact that her response to Purple Pigtails falling in love with her is "sorry, can't just enter a healthy lesbian relationship because I am super committed to this toxic one. You know that girl I painfully pine over while starting at her in my locket? That locket I wish I could throw away? Well I'm giving you your own pining locket to torment you with MY picture. We can be sad lesbians together."

It's just so Juri. Has to spread her unhealthy behavior everywhere. I don't think she knows any other way to deal with this stuff except to put it in a locket, keep it a secret and stare at it longingly. So she assumes Purple Pigtails needs that too. It's just...incredibly funny but also incredibly sad.

Does this ending work out for Purple Pigtails? Not really, no, she has to leave her crush behind and mirror Juri's unhealthy behavior. As long as she has that locket she can never move on or find a girlfriend. I will say she's better off than Juri though, because at least her crush doesn't try to actively torment her every chance she gets. I also think she's more likely to eventually put away the locket than Juri. She only knew Juri four days and isn't quite as fucked up as her. But then again, I could see her go on a similar quest to find Juri someday, like Utena did for her prince...but I don't think Juri will ever be in the position to be what she needs, even if she's healed and moved on. Because no real princes exist.

Then again, the fact Purple Pigtails was able to leave Ohtori at all means she was able to grow up and move on herself. She's accepted that her childhood was never what she thought it was...so maybe such a quest is unlikely. Maybe she will move on pretty quickly. Or maybe being obsessed with Juri means she will be welcomed back to Ohtori soon...

Anthy ending

My second favorite ending is the Anthy ending. The only reason it's lower than the Juri ending is that the washing each other's back scene is a little uncomfortable to watch, knowing Purple Pigtails has no trouble coercing sexual favors from Anthy. Whether this is all part of Anthy's plan or not, she is likely not enjoying this...and yet it's framed fairly comedically, which feels weird.

But otherwise? God it's perfect, so wonderfully absurd, so wonderfully Anthy. Her plan here is so elaborate and there are so many layers. There's also the question of why the hell she even did all this, which is so intriguing.

The way she's so direct with Purple Pigtails, her resentment and cynicism coming out, is great. Purple Pigtails is pretending she wants her, but she only wants power.

She also actively sabotages Utena in the fight in order get with Purple Pigtails. Why?

But after that, she also sabotages Purple Pigtails, deliberately keeping her up all night with uh. possibly sex, (again, uncomfy) to ensure she'll be too tired to concentrate the next day. But she does this so PP will lose to Utena even though Utena doesn't have a sword anymore.

Anthy played PP so thoroughly, but again, why? My theory when I first played this was Anthy was feeling guilty about her inevitable betrayal of Utena and was trying to get with Purple Pigtails, only to immediately realize there's no way PP could become a prince so she goes back to Utena.

But there are a lot of options. Maybe Anthy and/or Akio needed PP to be taken out. She was upsetting their plans somehow, so she needed to be defeated so humiliatingly she'd never try to get with Anthy again. It could explain why PP eventually left in the other endings, maybe she actually hadn't moved on, maybe Akio felt she was too much of a risk (possibly by how things got so complicated with Chigusa, too much of a distraction for the duelists) and kicked her out.

Or maybe this was all to test to find out where she was a prince candidate, and she was found wanting...considering you have to order rose tea as a prerequisite, this one's very possible.

It's all so fascinating. Maybe I should have put it as favorite...ok, let's say it's this and Juri tied.

Obviously this doesn't work out at all from Purple Pigtails Perspective. She becomes a supervillain, she's humiliatingly defeated, and she very well may be stuck at Ohtori for a long time...and fact she doesn't appear in the anime implies she's no longer friends with any of them. Maybe Akio made everyone forget about her. Maybe she was so bitter she rejected them all.

Utena's ending (Romantic Version)

(As a PS... it's very obvious the girls aren't allowed to kiss on the lips in this game, likely because of outside pressure, both Saionji and Miki get lips, while Utena and Juri do the princely forehead kiss (but you could also argue it's because they are the most "princely characters...and imitating the prince kiss is 100% in character for Utena. Also kissing a girl on the lips at this point in the story would pretty much short circuit Utena. Send her into such a lesbian crisis her heart might give out)

This ending is so sweet on the outside, but then you peel a layer back and see how fucked up it is. Utena very deliberately imitates her "prince" here, and that will someday horrify her, that she imitated Akio and got another girl obsessed with princes. And obviously that's very bad for PP too, since the thesis of Utena is the chivalrous prince who will save you is a lie.

Utena's words imply they will meet again and there's not a lot of outcomes that are good for that. One outcome is that PP goes back to Ohtori to find Utena, only to find she's already gone. But then Akio has a replacement Utena, right there. I'm not sure that would even matter, with Anthy gone, there's no way he can like, use her for anything...but he might take his anger at Utena and Anthy out on her. The better option is PP finds Utena in the real world, and sees that she and Anthy are officially girlfriends and have become healthier people. That might be good for her, actually--I'm sure Utena would encourage her to move on, find her own identity, and Utena would still want to be friends. Or she could ignore Utena andsink into bitterness and jealousy.

One of the most screwed up things about this ending is that PP basically loses her individuality and has become a copy of another person. It's not great for her that she's so wrapped up in Utena that it's her identity now. It's very sad just like it was with Anthy in the manga.

So no, I don't think this ending goes well for Purple Pigtails at all. She loses who she is, becomes obsessed with something that's just a false patriarchal idol, and that makes her vulnerable to Ohtori. Her only hope is finding Utena in the real world, and Utena making up for her past mistake.

Miki's ending

It was such a chore to get to this ending, but it's worth it for how funny it is. Purple Pigtails immediately deciding she actually wasn't in love with Miki after all (hint it's because she's a lesbian hint) and just. blowing him off, pretending she has a boyfriend back home. Legendary of her, and honestly Miki kind of deserves it. From his perspective it must feel like she really played with his feelings, though.

Because it doesn't exist, Miki!!! It was never real!!!!

She does say she "likes younger boys" after this, but that's just what she's telling herself. Someday she'll realize. Hopefully.

I think its interesting that Miki is the only one in this game who explicitly actually has feelings for her. He is able to move on from his sister (sort of. I mean at the very least iirc he never compares PP to Kozue that I can remember. Which is HUGE for him), but none of the rest can move on past their obsessions.

I actually think this works out pretty well for PP. She's not too attached to Miki, so she's unlikely to go back to Ohtori, and it doesn't break her heart to leave him, she's still herself, and I think she'll be able to move on.

Touga Ending (italicized since I haven't seen the whole route)

I haven't fully watched this route, so I don't know what it takes to get there. If I did it might affect my opinion, so take it with a grain of salt. But while this ending is so mean and horrible, it is also so darkly funny. Touga distilled. He's such a asshole that it is impossible to get any thing positive from your ending with him even in a dating sim, and that's amazing. You think you've won but you lost. You lost the second you decided to date Touga.

Basically, Touga promises he will write PP every single day, and he will come visit her too, and she's ecstatic.

And then he goes and burns her address, calling her stupid, because of course he fucking does. Thus PP is totally ghosted, left despairing and wondering why.

It is also very interesting he's the only love interest she does NOT get a kiss from, unexpected since Touga has not problem kissing girls he does not give a shit about. Either he just, genuinely hates her guts THAT much or he's ---

ahhh shit. I just looked it up. You can have PP have sex with him. In fact you have to actively avoid it if you don't want to. So that's why he doesn't need a kiss. Her already got what he wanted. That actually makes this ending so much more heartbreaking, a lot of girls place a lot of importance on their first time, and PP was treated so cruelly with hers. This goddamn prick.

It is horrible, but it is exactly what I'd expect Touga to do (esp since this is set so early in the story) and I think it's incredible the game was so true to his character that you just get a straightforward unhappy ending when you date him. The others at least APPEAR a little happy, though they're quite sad when you think about them for long, but the game makes no pretenses with Touga. It just goes "no, you got nothing good out of this relationship, this man is trash, he played you like he does everyone"

Obviously this is pretty sad for Purple Pigtails, who gets manipulated and ghosted, and, depending on your choices, gets to have the lovely experience of a horrible older boy manipulating her, fucking her, and throwing her away at the tender age of 14. But, assuming she is able to move on (I hope so?) this might be happier than others for her in the long run (especially if she avoids having sex with him). Touga ghosting her means he won't be able to torment her further, and that's better than any other option with him. Unless, of course, she goes back to Ohtori to get an explanation...

Perfect Ending

I do like the perfect ending bc of the funny interactions the council get in--Juri teasing Miki about liking older girls and Miki getting extremely flustered, Touga being so fucking annoying especially when he insists on calling Saionji BEST FRIEND over and over until Saionji is like "can you shut the fuck up''...

The goodbye with Utena is fairly generic though, just the tiniest bit gay. One thing that is interesting for this ending is PP wanting to learn fencing.

It's ambiguous who she's talking about here, she could even mean Chigusa despite the fact she's deader than dead, or it could be "we don't know which person she's most attracted too ooooh".

As far as working out for Purple Pigtails? She escapes romantic trauma, which is great for her, but she seems really determined to go back to Ohtori in this one, and as has been said many times, that is not good for her.

Akio Ending

I considered rating this higher bc it's so funny how PP calls Akio on his bullshit.

But there's the fact that PP's particular Akio ending is even more uh, rape-coded than any other Akio car ride, IIRC? It's not only the fact she's underage, but she actively begs Akio to stop. But of course that motherfucker doesn't listen.

It's honestly so sad so that kind of ruins any fun. Which doesn't make it bad, but i don't like thinking about that part.

This is the second worst ending for PP. Just like the Black Rose and Anthy endings, she's still at Ohtori and has no friends, but there's the sexual assault aspect on top of that. She will be so traumatized, and on top of that she lost humiliatingly, while Akio basically called her worthless.

Saionji ending

Saionji's ending is both kind of boring and vaguely interesting. (And I'm ranking it like this on the assumption Saionji never hit her, which I assume he didn't from the Youtube comments. While he would definitely be cruel to a gf in multiple ways if she stuck around enough, I think it's possible the only person he would physically abuse while dating is Anthy. which is. something to analyze.) Saionji is (blessedly) silent during most of this ending. only saying "I owe you a lot" when he gives her the present (implying she's been kind of for caring for him, wet pathetic dog that he is, which does fit with the snippets I've seen of this route and echoes his relationship with Wakaba)

Saionji does give her his little leaf (apparently the only present he's capable of making?? like if he can carve this leaf he must know how to carve other things, right??? maybe it's just the carving he's best at) but PP knows he's too obsessed with Anthy (and Touga. the obsession with Anthy is just an extension of an obsession with Touga lets all be honest here) to return her feelings and they're both pretty honest and open about things. But THEN she claims she'll come back and make him look her way someday.. AND THEN she just plants one on him out of nowhere. Girl, you forget about consent!

Honestly Saionji just seems extremely confused and freaked out about it, even his expression afterwards, which makes me feel bad for him, something I'd never thought I'd say in my life. It's kind of interesting to see him like that. But...it doesn't stand out too much other than that. It's kind of just like. okay girl. calm down.

This one does not work out perfectly for PP since she seems pretty determined to come back to Ohtori and make Saionji love her, which is definitely never going to happen. But she doesn't lose her identity, doesn't get a pining locket, Saionji is surprisingly nice to her, unlike Wakaba she knows she doesn't have a chance right now, so she wasn't hugely disappointed...so it could be worse.

Utena Friendship Ending

Basically the same at the perfect ending, except we never get to see any fun interactions between the group. Boring.

Black Rose Ending

This one claims PP is obsessed with books, which has never come up in the game before, so it feels out of nowhere and like it wasn't properly developed. There's not much to dig into, when there should be. And her defeat is basically the same as the Akio endings, so it doesn't add much.

(Utena is being so mean here!!!! You know she's brainwashed why are you being an asshole about her skill!)

One the worst endings from PP's perspective, her mind is messed with, she literally has no friends, and she's stuck at Ohtori.

Game over

Obviously a Game Over is pretty boring. The game just ends. Bye.

I think PP would disappear from the world in the game over ending, just like Chigusa wanted. So this is the worst ending for her, she not only dies. she's erased from existence. At least in the other endings she gets to live.

(also I think either this one or the perfect ending are canon for the anime. The game over ending makes a lot of sense, since they would all forget PP and all that happened with her ever existed, and that would be the explanation for why she's never mentioned in the anime. But the more optimistic take is that the perfect ending is canon, and nobody ever mentions her because she just doesn't come up.

So there's my favorites ranked from best to worst.

NOW let's rank the endings from worst to best for Perfect Pigtails!

Game Over (she dies)

Akio Car Ending

Black Rose Ending

Anthy Ending (it's possible for her to have friends in this one)

Touga Ending (provided a) he has sex with her and b) she is unable to move on from what happened. Without those two factors though, it's under Utena's in the long run)

Utena Ending

Juri Ending

Saionji Ending

Perfect Ending

Miki Ending is the best one for her, weirdly! (Or at least my interpretation of it. She got out unscathed and has no desire to return to Ohtori!)

---

And those are my rankings! I hope everyone who read this far enjoyed the rambling.

[another-random-paradise]

Ok ok so for your Starlight Express requests!!!

What if, for Greaseball, Rusty, Hydra (and maybe Dinah too? 👀) with a reader who is VERY obviously smitten with them?

Like as soon as said character sees reader for the first time they just see reader develop giant heart eyes in real-time

And from then on the reader character tries super duper hard to be around them as my h as physically possible

How do you think they'd react? 🤔

Heart eyes!

Thank you sm for the request, this was so much fun!! Did my best to put some extra love into Dinah‘s part, since ik she‘s one of your favourites! <3

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Characters with an absolutely smitten reader

Characters: Greaseball, Rusty, Hydra, Dinah

Format: Headcanons

Version: 2024 London revival

Warnings: None that I can think of!

Greaseball

-Suuuper smug when you first meet

-At first she probably thinks you're just another of her many fans

-However, you're one of the first to actively try to get closer to her! Sure, a few other fans have tried, but most did too much ,to a point of restraining orders, or stopped after a week, usually finding a new obsession 

-But not you. You stayed persistent, while respecting boundaries :)

-she revels in the attention you give her; you honestly need to be careful, before her already-over-the-top ego grows even bigger!! 

-whenever she decides she needs extra attention, she'll  just wait for you to come around, and goes "I'm so pretty, aren't I?" or purposefully works out in front of you, and she'll fully expect you to feed into her ego, once again (you do) (this is canon, this is basically just "pumping Iron"-) 

-Eventually, you become a constant in her life, something, or rather someone, she can rely on to be there, even during the chaos of the races.

-she doesn't even realise that she looks longingly after you, when you do have to go. Starlight forbid anyone ever calls her out on it, though :p

-She really notices this, when you weren't there during a smaller race (maybe you got sick, maybe you were busy racing yourself, ect.). She finds herself visibly annoyed at the lack of attention before the race. Sure her fans were there, but it just wasn't the same. She beat up so many other trains during that race.

-When she gets back to the yard, she just sits there for a while, contemplating. because your missing presence should not affect the champion this much.

-Eventually she comes to terms with the fact that she likes you, and starts to reciprocate your affection ever so slightly. For example, if you hug her, she'll put an arm around your waist!

-It may not be much, but it's a start! she isn't used to caring this much. yet ;)

Rusty

-Poor boy is shocked.

-There are so many powerful and fast engines rolling around the yard - the champion herself is there! And yet you like him? a shunter engine?!

-Safe to say, he isn't used to the attention; it flusters him!

-Every time you as much as put a hand on his shoulder, he turns red and steam comes out  of his ears! Every time you hug him, he just freezes in place, as if turned to stone! The first few times you thought the corrosion had finally eaten away at his train equivalent of a brain

-However, he'd be lying if he said that he minds; he isn't exactly used to attention, let alone kindness. Sure, the carriages are nice, but aside from Pearl, he wouldn't be surprised if it's out of pity - not to mention, that it's a nice change of pace, compared to the bullying he endures from Greaseball and her Gang

-Despite how shy he gets, he tries to reciprocate, but he usually ends up making it awkward.. He doesn't mean to, he just genuinely doesn't know what he's doing, he's not used to this level of affection! 

-But you don't mind - you'd dare to call it endearing :) and that gives him some confidence, that you won't leave the moment you have a chance with one of the big shots

-He slowly starts to get used to your affection, and becomes less awkward himself! He no longer breaks at every touch! In fact, he starts to lean into your touches, finding them more comforting than anything

-Eventually, he even starts seeking you out himself, especially on days where work was exhausting, or Greaseballs gang was extra mean

-You become a sort of save space for him, someone he knows he can always turn to, someone who won't judge him for being himself

-By now, the way he looks at you has by far surpassed your own heart eyes. You may have fallen first, but he fell so much harder :)

Hydra

-Another smug one, but in a less egotistical way

-After his constant preaching about Hydrogen being the best option, it just feels good to be appreciated for once, instead of turned away!

-...even if technically isn't exactly because of that.. shhh, let the guy dream

- He really just lets you, he won't exactly reciprocate at first, but he doesn't mind! simply takes it as a compliment, and side hug you, at most

-Though conversation are bound to happen, considering how much time you spent around him; no matter if he's practicing for races, doing his job as a fuel truck, preaching about hydrogen, or simply taking a break, you are almost always around the corner 

- Turns out you two actually have a lot in common, and you don't mind his passion for protecting the environment either! 

-After a while, you two can usually be seen huddled together, laughing about something stupid, or simply talking about the most random things, barely ever even inches apart!

-The other freight trains definitely tease him about it; they give him teasing looks when you're together, or jokingly mimicking you two

-Just like with the previous two, it starts to be a lot weirder for you to not be there, instead of the other way around! whenever you two haven't seen each other in a bit, whether it's been a few days or just a few hours, it doesn't matter: when you see each other again, he'll be standing there expectantly, with his arms open :)

-You are definitely the person he trusts most, by now! after all, it's pretty hard to spill each others secrets while constantly around each other!

Dinah 

-The girl is surprised; usually she's the Lovestruck one!

-She found your Lovestruck gaze adorable, and was honestly flattered to be the receiver of it

-While, unlike Rusty, she can still function, in spite of all your affection, she is certainly a blushy mess through and through!

-You two fit each other perfectly - once she got used to your affection, she is just as affectionate! Some would describe the two of you sickeningly sweet

-The other coaches get to hear all about you, and not as a passing comment either! No, you are the main topic of their girls (+Tassita) night, with discussions that go late into the night

-All the coaches are very supportive of you two, they're glad that Dinah is happy! 

-Eventually, you two spent so much time together, that it's almost weird to see you two apart! And she couldn't say that she minds, you make great company, in her opinion :)

-It already felt great to have her love language be appreciated, but to have it reciprocated? she couldn't wish for more!

-you two are truly the perfect duo, complementing each other perfectly; according to rumours, you two are the cutest couple in the yard! 

-You're the type of pair, to steal the attention from the actual race, because the cameras are busy getting all your cute moments for the fans

-If you're an engine, she definitely wants to race together, after all it's just more time for the two of you to be close! It doesn't matter if you're a top racer, or tend to hang in the back; she is as loyal as can be, she'll stick around!

-Over all, you two make the cutest couple!

My first StEx request, suuuper exited!! Hope you like it hehe <33

Ngl Hydras Part ended up kinda short, had a black out for him, for some reason :,)

Anywaysss, Feedback is welcome, just be nice, please!!

Have a lovely day/night <3