#he doesn't actually have much going for him

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni

part one | two | three ‹soon›

Unfortunately for you, your big brother's friend sukuna can be surprisingly light on his feet for someone so large. It seems that startling the living hell out of you is his new favorite pasttime. And he's around all the time now. He shows up unannounced and lets himself in. When you ask Toji why he has a key, he just laughs and says, "He doesn't. He wants in. He gets in."

Okay? That's cryptic and annoying, but you'd rather feign indifference than ask questions. Why overcomplicate things?

Mostly, he just sneaks up behind you and shouts, "Hey, brat!" In his stupid, booming voice as he claps all four of his large hands down on your shoulders. You count it as a victory when you detect his smokey scent first and actually manage not to jump out of your skin. Although you still break out in goosebumps at his touch, he doesn't seem to notice, judging by the satisfying look of dissappointment on his face. Your satisfaction is short-lived, however.

The sound of the two men crashing through the front door in the wee hours of the next morning startles you awake. You flick the bedside lamp on just in time to see sukuna crash through your bedroom door. Of course, you scream and clutch the pink duvet to your bare chest. "Oops," he says, with a shit-eating grin. "Wrong room." Toji drags him out with some half-assed muttered apology about drinking too much. You're not so sure that's a pertinent excuse. The smug look he shoots you before the door slams shut seems pretty much par for the course, at this point.

Sadly, that was not the end of early morning encounters with the monster. Now he has you caged in against the counter, nearly breaking your back in an effort to lean away from him. Evidently, he had seen fit to creep up behind you and you between the kitchen counter and his mountain range of a body. And you wee only trying to steam milk for your latte. What the fuck is his problem, anyway? Can't a girl make her morning coffee in peace? Your protests remain lodged in your throat, however, along with your racing heart.

He's so large and so close you have no choice but to look at him, which, to your horror, still renders you temporarily speechless. Being so close to him reminds you a little of the first time you ever saw a tiger at the zoo. The animal was so unlike anything you had ever seen before, so deadly and beautiful, that you could hardly believe it was real. Could hardly believe that it was roaring and pacing close enough that you could reach out and sink your fingers into its thick coat if not for the bars. The bars kept you safe, then. What is keeping you safe, now?

It is unsettling, the way his upper set of eyes remain locked on yours while the lower set look down at the hand scalded by your spilt coffee. "What's the matter brat? Hurt yourself?" He mocks as you clutch the injured hand to your chest. You hardly notice that one of his hands has left the counter, but somehow you don't flinch when he lifts it to your cheek to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "Did I scare you?"

The gentle gesture alongside his mocking words is so disconcerting that you remain a quivering-lipped mute as seconds crawl by at a snails pace. You wonder if the action was subconscious on his part. Seems the only viable explanation.

You don't find your voice again until Toji's breaks whatever hypnosis the monster has you under. "Let's go," he says, and, just like that, Sukuna pulls away and you are finally able to pull air into your lungs again. "Gonna be gone for a couple of days-" Toji begins, addressing you.

"Please tell me you're taking it with you," you interject, stabbing an index finger in Sukuna's direction.

"Yeah," he says. And sukuna gives you one last smug, spider-eyed glare before he disappears through the door.

You're so relieved that it doesn't occur to you how quickly a couple of days can pass. Or that, when they do, your brother might not be the first to return. Relieved, not only to be free of Sukuna's bullying for a time, but also because what you feel is not truly fear. It's more like awe, if you really had to put a name to it. But you make a point not to think about it too much, or at all if you can help it.

taglist ‹ age in your bio to be added ›

@orikixx ; @scorpiosugar ; @just-lilita ; @shesabeeler

[sadlytsundere]

[Photo ID] Two screenshots from unknown Reddit threads, posted by u/HomoLizard. The first post is titled "help finding vodka" and shows a picture of a bottle of vodka with a blue label. The post reads:

Hi. I really need some help, I'm looking for a very specific brand of russian vodka (it's not really for me. it's a long story). It's called пять озер, below is a picture of what a bottle might look like. I live close to the center but don't mind taking a bus somewhere to get a bottle of this vodka. Does anybody know any stores that might sell this? Thanks!

The second picture is another post by same user. It is titled "Gnome wifi help" and is labeled Question. It reads:

Okay, so here's the run down of my situation: i'm a russian slavic pagan, and my gnome (it's actually my домовой but i call it gnome in English because it's close enough) followed me when I moved to Scotland. I didn't know he could go on planes so I didn't do a welcoming ritual, and now he's mad at me. My wifi barely works, and I really need it to get jobs. It's his doing, i'm sure of it, nothing I do to fix it works. I called my mom to ask her what to do with this guy when he gets angry, and she said give it some vodka. Except she named a specific russian brand, and I went to every store in my area and they didn't have that brand. My mom said he only likes that specific vodka. So, now I'm kind of fucked. What do I do? I really need the wifi to get a job. Do you guys have any suggestions for how to teach him his lesson without pissing him off too much, so he doesn't ruin my life further? Please help.

[End ID]

[theteablogger]

You may have already noted this, but Andy's claims on twitter about being able to understand what his sparrow is saying (and thus sparrow language in general) seem to be ramping up in unbelievability- apparently yesterday the bird was able to communicate that it didn't want its conversation with other sparrows recorded and shared. Andy makes mention of several of his followers who have apparently been having FaceTime calls with the bird. There's at least 5-6 of Andy's followers who consistently comment on the bird updates and show no credulity, expressing how much they want to be able to communicate with the bird like Andy does. It's probably not the biggest deal, but the whole thing has just been giving me an odd vibe. Feels like Andy once again making friends/followers by demonstrating abilities and knowledge no one else has.

Yes, his allegedly deep connection with sparrows has been getting weird for quite a while. He says he can understand some of their language, enough to relay things that the flock outside his house is talking about and things that Nuggie communicates to him. On top of that, Andy has written about things like Nuggie watching movies and musicals and following every emotional beat, to the point of showing the characters his malformed feet to offer encouragement when they're lacking confidence. Andy is anthropomorphizing the hell out of that little bird. Meanwhile, his followers praise him for knowing sparrows better than ornithologists do.

I've lived with a parrot before, for many years, and I bonded very closely with him. I agree that birds are much smarter and more emotionally complex than most people realize. But they're not humans. Their thoughts and feelings are not exactly like ours and we have no way to know exactly what's going on in their heads. Projecting onto them can lead to misunderstandings of their behavior and needs. Andy seems to be taking good care of Nuggie, from what I can tell--bearing in mind that we only have his word for it--but that doesn't mean he's right about everything.

Here's the thread you mentioned:

Here's Andy in November, writing about Nuggie's "phone flock":

Here's a thread from October, featuring Andy's musings on sparrow language. Friendly reminder that he is neither an ornithologist nor a linguist.

Note that at the end, he specifies that he's not Dr. Doolittle and doesn't speak or 100% understand sparrows' language...but he's still claiming a level of understanding that no one else has.

And here's Andy in August, wishing that he could communicate effectively with Nuggie and then having an actual conversation with him:

Those are some awfully complex ideas for a member of a non-human species to understand and respond to appropriately.

I'm not trying to suggest that Andy is forming another cult based around his bird, but like you said, Anon, it's notable that he is once again positioning himself as someone who has a special ability that no one else has. He's also repeating an old pattern in making himself the sole conduit to communicate with someone who holds a great deal of emotional significance for people. Back in the day, it was any of 160+ "others", and later, the DAYDverse/Harry Potter characters; now, it's a rescued sparrow with a disability, whom a lot of people apparently find inspiring.

[frannyzooey]

Happy V Day I hope Joel and Honey are having lovely slow and/or nasty sex after they put the kids to bed ❤️

Okay, this is late, but....yes

Yes they are 😌

Short Days, Long Nights Universe

You surprised him with something fancy.

Something you had to trade for, which already gave the scrap of fabric more meaning, but you would have gladly traded a million things in your little house just to have him look at you the way he does when you undo your robe.

The novelty of celebrating something like Valentine's Day isn't lost on either of you. A small, throw away holiday, meant for the consumer times of before. Bouquets of fancy flowers, boxes of chocolate with satin bows, expensive dinners, jewelry, gifts.

The fact that you're alive and well is enough to celebrate, but then you throw in the impossible idea of finding the love of your life? Of actually having a family? Of being able to raise them in a safe community, where you can shower your love on them every single day without the harsh threat of the outside world taking it all away?

That's what Valentine's Day is now. Something that has more meaning than it used to, because it means you're alive and you get the luxury of celebrating it.

Well - it's about that, and this.

The slow crawl onto the bed, towards his broad frame.

The straddle on his thick lap, the richness of his eyes in the lamplight.

The delicate way his rough fingers catch on the lace cups, and the slow drag of them downwards.

Not before he has a taste through the transparent fabric, though. Not before his mouth finds each peaked bud and his hands find the weight of your breasts and his groan rumbles across your sensitive skin when he latches onto each one in turn until the thin lace is soaked.

Not before he sits there in his lean against the headboard and just looks, with so much love and reverence and lust in his eyes that it pierces your tender heart and makes you want to cry.

You start by sinking down on his lap just to watch the way his mouth drops open, and end with his hand over your mouth as he fucks into you from above and though it's late and the kids will wake up early in the morning, you doze until it's time for round two, this time starting with his face buried between your legs and ending with you on all fours as he pounds into you from behind. His hands tug on the lace, he clenches it in his fists, savors the way the silk is warm with your body heat until he can't take it anymore and lifts it carefully off your body so he doesn't rip it with how hard he's going to fuck you.

The evening (or early morning) ends with him curled around you, and when the kids wake up, he decides to extend Valentine's Day for you by letting you sleep while he pads out of the bedroom as quietly as he can; the kids chattering their good mornings, his mind still stuck in the night before. ❤️

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Big boy.

Gif by @berryispunk

Pairing: Clint x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 2065 Summary: You enter a video rental shop looking for something spicy and end up finding the best fuck you've ever had. Basically PWP, I'm FERAL for this man, okay. Tags/Warnings: reader has no description, she wears leggings and a top, smut, sex in a public place, a dash of nipples play, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (do better irl, please, especially with strangers), sex with a stranger, pet names, dirty talk, Clint has a filthy mouth of course, no reference to the plot other than the video rental, reader is absolutely unhinged and feral, cream pie, reader is on the pill, some somewhat stereotypical ideas, reader doesn't like the name 'Clint', other filthy things I don't even remember, I wrote it basically in a frenzy LMAO. A/N: Inspired by the gif above, I saw this post by @berryispunk on my dash earlier today and started typing right away LOL English is not my first language, no beta, no proofreading, no nothing, I apologize for any mistake.

Thank to anyone who will read!

Masterlist

Your idiot boyfriend broke up with you six months ago, and you haven't seen a cock since. 

Nothing. 

Absolute desert. 

Until a few weeks ago you were too grossed out by the male gender to think about it but you need something now. 

You are thirsty. 

Hungry.

Working from home some days a week was distracting, and you found yourself increasingly brooding, taking long breaks to linger in long sessions with your favorite toys. 

The fantasies going on in your head, however, were always the same and as satisfying as they were, you felt you needed something more. 

At least until you had met a man worthy of your time.

That's how you found yourself after work in the video store near your office. You frequented it often but had never entered the adult video section. You were embarrassed, but you had no other way to find material of the kind you were craving.

The section was divided from the rest of the video store by a thick red velvet curtain, and as you approached it the guy behind the counter gave you an 'eloquent look. He was a thin guy in his early twenties, long black hair, a lower lip piercing, his tattooed arms poking out from a T-shirt cut off at the sides. 

“Hey baby, can I help you?” he had said with a grin painted on his face.

You had raised an eyebrow in response, “No thanks.”

Definitely too young and looking like someone who spends his time getting stoned and playing video games every day all day.

You peeled back the curtain and entered, prowling around the various shelves. Naked women everywhere on video covers, big boobs, bleached blond hair, full lips and winks. On another shelf, black women were smiling at you, on the one below Asian women. 

The world of porn was more organized than you expected. 

Everything was silent, shrouded in the red light of three large neon X's hanging on the wall.

You were perusing at a video with a nice redhead woman, a black woman and a man with a huge cock when you heard steps coming from the opposite direction you were. 

A man appeared right in front of you. 

A very handsome man actually. 

Tall, broad shoulders, a face sculpted by God in person, big nose, kissable lips and slightly messy beard and mustache, thick deep brown hair and a gorgeous pair of brown eyes. 

Please tell me you are looking for my pussy, you thought. 

Fuck. I’m really unhinged at this point.

He ignored you and continued to search the shelves for something. You follow him with your eyes, drinking in his figure dressed in light jeans, a plaid shirt and a black leather jacket. 

He had a little too much gel in his hair, a scar under his right eye and seemed like a troublemaker. But at the same time he was certainly not someone you should have to explain where the clitoris is to, like the guy in his early twenties outside.

You spotted his big hands, long thick fingers, they seemed a little callous but definitely experts.

“What do you recommend?” You suddenly asked. 

You couldn't believe the nerve you'd just shown, but fuck it, we ball, you thought.

He turned and looked at you as if he had only just seen you: “Oh? Sorry, what did you ask me?”

He didn't seem annoyed, just very surprised. 

“What do you recommend?” you repeated as your knees weakened under his gaze. 

“Oh,” he said, as if he didn't care at all about being surrounded by video covers with naked women of all kinds. 

You bit your lip, touched your neck, and looked away after looking at him intensely for a moment. Your winning move, usually. 

“Well, I don't know...” he hesitated, coming closer to you. ”I guess it depends on what you like.”

His voice had become lower, it was hoarse, incredibly sensual. 

As he got closer you looked at his big boots, almost as if it didn't matter. In reality you were noticing his big feet. 

Big feet, big hands, big nose...he must have something else big, I hope.

You looked up, and he was just a step away from you. 

“What do you need tonight?” he teased you, with a sinful little smile on his face.

“Something really wild” you smiled “Do you know where I can find it?”

He smirked “Are you into women, too?” 

“Yes” you replied boldly, licking your upper lip. 

“Sexy” he stated. 

You laughed softly while he took a video from the shelf 

“This one is good” 

It was the one you were looking at when he entered. 

“Uhm.. did you see it?” You asked with a suggestive wink.

“Yes, darling, several times, actually. It never disappoints” he shrugged and looked at you like he wanted to devour you.

Oh yes, I caught him on the hook. You thought.

“Well, ladies are very beautiful... and he has a nice cock” you observed, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“You like big cocks?” it sounded even more raspy and went straight to your pussy.

“Actually…yes” you replied, getting dangerously close to him and looking at him from below, batting your eyelashes. “I bet you have a nice one, by the way”

“No one has ever complained, sweetheart” his hand reached your face, his knuckles grazing at your cheek.

“Then show me” you whispered.

His eyes had become even darker, practically just pupils. 

He ran a hand over his mustache and said, 

“Damn, you're really cheeky. You don't even know my name.” 

“I don't want to know that. I want to know if you want to fuck or not.”

“Here?” he asked, his eyes wide. 

“Why not? You scared?” You teased him.

“I'm no wuss, honey” he growled before slamming your against the shelf behind you

You were left breathless for a moment.

"Show me what you got, big boy" you purred a moment after.

You didn't know what had gotten into you, having sex with a stranger in the adult section of a video rental shop? It certainly wasn't on brand for you, but at that point you wouldn't have backed out. 

His hands had clasped your hips, moving over your ass and groping you strongly.

“Oh baby, when I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk straight for days.” 

“Good. I haven't been fucked properly for a while”

You regretted this confession until he squeezed your ass again, pulling you towards him and saying, “A pretty little thing like you? Fuck, there really is no religion left in this world.” 

“Well, make me shout to God then.” 

His mouth crashed on yours right after, his tongue immediately pushed at your lips and you let it in, licking it and trapping it in a dance with yours.

His hands went up to play with your nipples through your top; you weren't wearing a bra and your nipples immediately stiffened against the fabric.

"Fuck, yeah" you moaned. "I knew your hands were skilled" 

His thumbs kept brushing on your hard buds while his mouth moved to your jawline and your neck, peppering them with kisses, biting at your tender skin and soothing it right away with his tongue.

“You smell so good, baby” he whispered, inhaling the scent of your perfume “like apples and vanilla. It makes me want to eat you up” 

He immediately lowered himself, pulling down your leggings and panties in one go, leaving you naked from the waist down. The cool air in the room made you wince.

“Look at this pussy, she’s weeping huh?” 

He had said this, a moment before starting to kiss your thighs, biting and licking, slowly moving up towards your center.

“Fuck” you moaned burying a hand in his dark curls “please”

He had started by licking your outer lips, then dipping his tongue between your folds, going up to your clitoris and swirling around it.

You would pull his hair and moan, completely enraptured. He was so damn good. 

He definitely knew where your clit was and exactly what it needed.

He began to fondle it, alternating between licking and pressing and then started to jerking it off quickly with his tongue.

You'd completely lost it when he'd taken it in his mouth and started sucking it.

“Yeah baby, you like that huh?” He muttered before nudging at your entrance with his index and middle finger.

He curled his fingers inside you, continuing to suck on your bundle of nerves until you had actually called on the name of God, quivering under his touch.

Your back was hitting against the shelf and it hurt but you didn't care, you were moaning like someone possessed and you didn't care, no one had ever made you come like that with oral sex. 

You couldn't believe how lucky you were, right there and then you decided that your instinct was pretty reliable after all.

“Well, now that she’s nice and wet I think I'll serve her the main course” he groaned. 

“Please” you breathed.

“Still hungry, huh?” he chuckled as he got up. He lifted your top to reveal your tits. ”Gorgeous. Stay still for me”

He unfastened his belt and jeans, letting them fall to his ankles and then pulling them off stomping on them.

His cock was indeed as delicious as you'd thought. 

Big, thick, pink and incredibly hard right before your eyes. 

A small bush of hair all around it and two big balls just below. 

It made your mouth water.

He moved closer to you in an instant, one hand on your tit and the other on your clit as he slowly entered you.

“Fuck, you're so tight.” He grunted. 

“And you’re so big. Just the way I like” you cooed.

He was at least 8 inches and proceeded cautiously, feeling you stretch for him “You're so good, baby, I can't wait to be all inside your hot, soaking wet pussy”

“Make me full, please” you urged him, staring at his gorgeous brown eyes, taking in his lips agape and little beads of sweat running down his neck.

He grunted again before fully sinking inside you. “Can you feel it deep inside, baby? Are you full enough?”

“Fuck yeah, it’s perfect.” You moaned. “Move. Please”

He didn't have to be asked twice before starting to dive in and out of you, at a slow pace at first, making you feel every inch that stretched you, veins on his length gliding against your damp walls, his engorged tip hitting that special spot over and over again.

He increased the pace at your next prayer, squeezing one of your ass cheek with one hand and putting the other behind your back to prevent you from really hurting yourself.

“Christ, babe you’re gripping me so hard, I don't think I can hold on much longer” he muttered 

Your fingers were tangled in his curls at the base of his neck, you lured him into a deep, sloppy kiss, after whispering in his ear “Paint me. I'm on the pill” 

“Fuck, do you want me to come inside you? Do you want to go home with my seed dripping between your legs?”

“Yes” you purred “go on, big boy, that's exactly what I'm hoping for.”

“Come for me first, be a good girl. I can feel you're close”

You came after another couple of strong thrusts, your moans muffled by his lips on yours. 

He came just after you, unloading long, warm streaks of his seed inside you.

He kept thrusting into you until he softened, grunting and groping your tit with his large hand, his thick fingers tugging at your nipple.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he said as he came out from you and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘It's one of the craziest things that has ever happened to me.”

“Um... do crazy things happen to you often?’ you asked smiling

“Sometimes.”

He pulled on his pants, gave you another kiss and headed for the tent.

He didn't ask your name. He knew he didn't need to.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Thanks to you. I'm Clint, by the way. I often come here on Thursdays, if you'd like to see me again.” 

He left without saying anything else. 

Clint. What a crappy name. Good thing he doesn't look like it.

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @lemon-nomel @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @baronessvonglitter @thundermartini @cas-readsandwrites

archive tag: @pedrostories

let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away. ❤️

[cumaeansibyl]

Even 20 years ago, the complaint about custody was outdated -- courts have shifted toward favoring joint custody, because the new assumption is that children benefit most from equal time with both parents.

The finding is that men get equal time or greater when they ask for it. In the majority of cases where men don't get equal time, it's because they didn't ask for it. And that could be by mutual agreement that it's best for the kids, for whatever reason; it doesn't have to be a shiftless man pushing all the responsibility on the mother.

But then there's the segment of men who didn't want custody, didn't ask, didn't care, until they're shocked at the amount of child support they're expected to pay -- which in most cases doesn't cover half of the actual expenses of raising a child, especially if you count in stuff like the extra cost of rent and utilities for a place that can house your kids.

Those are the men who didn't initially ask for equal time, didn't get it, and then suddenly decided that the courts screwed them and they need 50/50 custody of their kids. It's not that many of them overall, but they are very loud and very convinced that the system is specifically set up to fuck men over in favor of enriching their greedy bitch exes.

The saddest thing is when divorced fathers don't show any interest in their kids until they start dating a (usually younger) woman who naturally thinks that fathers should be interested in their kids, so all of a sudden they want to be back in their kids' lives and That Bitch Ex has no interest in enabling him to mess with their emotions like that. And the new woman, only getting one side of the story, goes all in on her boyfriend's side because it's so sad how he can't see his kids that he loves so much. She doesn't know that, if he does succeed, she is going to be the one taking care of those kids and he's going to lose interest again.

Divorce seems to radicalize american men in a way that needs to be studied

[folklorianhaze]

she's a cold, calculating prude who takes herself too seriously and doesn't know how to take a joke. she's a loud, messy drunk who's an attention-seeker and parties too much and needs to learn to sit down and be respectful during award shows. she's a boy-crazy slut who dates a ton of guys just to write breakup songs about them. she's a frigid bitch who won't put out and her image is too squeaky clean. she doesn't take enough risks in her music and plays it too safe. this new album is too long and rambling and full of unfiltered thoughts and muses that make us uncomfortable and it's so honest it's cringe. she creates a victim narrative for herself to manipulate the public and her fans. she's a grown woman who's helpless and being controlled by her mean, money-hungry parents who see her as a meal ticket. she's an evil all-powerful billionaire. she's secretly gay but can't come out because she has no power of her own. she's too hot and skinny and perfect and she flaunts it too much. okay but who would want to lose the super bowl and then come home to clap that? oh that british guy she's been dating for years is so boring and a loser milquetoast nobody. oh they broke up? well it was obviously her fault and now she's going to use her album to spread lies and slander about him and the entire fandom must just hate him unfairly because he's an introvert. they could never make me hate you british guy! now she's dating an american football player so she ruined football. she's a raging feminist who wants to indoctrinate children and uses witchcraft. she's a do-nothing ineffectual liberal whose feminism isn't good enough actually and nothing she says or does will ever be enough to prove to us her political allegiances so we'll just have to keep periodically checking in every few months and accuse her of being a secret republican. she weaponizes her all-powerful fandom to block women from the charts because she's a jealous harpy who wants to cling to fading success. oh but the only reason her new album charted for so long is because obsessed crazy people streamed it, she doesn't have any power culturally. she's clingy and needy. she's a serial cheater. she's too powerful and overexposed and we're sick of seeing her win everything. okay but wasn't she actually such a vibe at the grammys? she knew she wasn't winning anything and was having a good time it was soooooo fun to watch!

"so tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?"

[kitbunnyroo]

thinking about...abandoned android boyfriend....

lemme apologize from now...this is a looong one. it could be structured better, but it's literally just me updating this over the course of some hours/days (?). hope you enjoy this ridiculously long tidbit thooo! <3 (help y'all hit that 30 fast....tyyy!)

also omg thank you all for all the love on the centaur man post??? we love big strong bby fr, 100% will bring him back if y'all wanna see more of him 🤍🤍 (also, not proof read nothing i write is, so forgive any errors plsss)

like picture it, you just find him in a scrap yard cause your pet ran into it or something right...and you can tell that he's functioning, so you're confused as to why he got put for scrap? considering these things are crazy expensive, and the people who threw him out were ever so kind enough to leave all his original packaging, you took him back home.

it did take a while to get his station set up in a little corner, but it wasn't too bad, especially as you looked into the illuminated green eyes of the android who stood a good head or two taller than yourself once you figured out how to get him up and running again.

after you explained in even greater detail how he came to be in your possession, you could almost hear the mechanics in his brain recalibrating all the missed system updates as he now addressed you as master/mistress. not ideal, but who are you to complain once he fixes the drip in your sink that almost cost you hundreds of dollars. maybe having an android in your home wouldn't be so bad.

time flies and you come to find out he was scrapped cause beyond functionality, he had somehow developed a conscious of sorts. which when you think about it, anybody else would be freaked out by their machine suddenly smiling and showing human emotions. was it freaky? hell yeah. was it bad?....not so much.

there was lots of reassurance to be done...he thought that once he started to slip and his consciousness shone through again you'd dump him to be scrap metal too...well, after they remove the scarily realistic skin-like material that outlines his hardware. "So...you're not going to power me off and box me up like the last family did..?" he'd find himself asking after long conversations about how you don't really care he got more human-like as the days went on. living on your own it isn't that bad to feel like you have extremely helpful company rather than a machine in your empty halls. and when he looks at you oh so sweetly? how can you not tell him this is his home too.

android housemate, doing his best to make sure you're always happy. always stress free. always well taken care of. always healthy. always satisfied. so when he's cleaning your room and finds a vibrator, he's everything and appalled. why would you have this when he's right here? was he not good enough? did you not want him to help you? was it his fault? but he simply places it on it's charger and closes your door. when you get home that day you can tell something's off, it's the same air as the early stages when he thought you'd throw him out. so you just make sure to be extra sweet to your caring housemate.

android housemate, now doing research on human pleasure, watching porn, reading all sorts of articles and Quora forums. this seems easy enough to do...he just doesn't understand why you wouldn't ask him to help. darling android housemate realizing that his fans start to go double time when the pixels start to look like you instead of whoever is actually in the videos...even more so when he realizes that's what an imagination is like and that his is picturing himself with you in these videos...he wonders if that can happen....

yandere (???) android housemate who's suddenly gotten all clingy once you're home. as usual, dinner is hot and plated, desert already lined up, but as you shower you can hear him making the time to pick out your outfit from your drawers instead of double checking all is well in the rest of the house...odd, but you don't pay the particularly revealing choice of clothing much mind. dinner goes as usual, till he offers you a much more...inviting? smile after you tell him about your grievances of the day. his eyes never leaving you, even as you eat and he updates minor software...you ask if he can close the windows cause there's a much too warm of a breeze coming in, and he's suddenly glad he has the capabilities to hide the blush that threatened to rise to his fabricated cheeks since it was just his fans. he was getting a bit too much enjoyment from the sight of you wearing an outfit he had picked, enjoying his meals that he makes you everyday, you chose him from the scrap yard that he's convinced held many other androids...

yandere (??) android housemate that's gotten cold to you since you brought home another human and claim that they're your partner. he'd thought that he was being clear with his consecutive months of flirting since his research began, but apparently not clear enough. now he's forced to watch as you bring this human over, it is nice to hear you brag about how lovely he treats you though, especially when he sees them almost shrink where they sit, obviously he can already tell they won't be able to treat you better than your housemate. how could they? they're just a weak human, and he's an android that's learnt every last one of your tastes.

yandere (?) android housemate that's gotten over his chilly attitude in favour of comforting you after your breakup and every proceeding one from then on. on one hand he doesn't enjoy seeing you hurt, but on the other hand he knows the only one meant for you is him, so he'll continue to let these humans know that they won't ever hold a candle to him when it comes to your affections. you don't have to be in pain, you just have to realize he's the one for you. and you can go back to your blissful life.

yandere...android housemate who's worried after you stumble through the door after a work/college party, clearly intoxicated out of your mind. he effortlessly picks you up and takes you to your room, laying next to you when you refused to let him go cause his generated warmth was nice compared to the cold of the air conditioned room. he listens to you babble on about who knows what, and then about your latest break up, and then he's shocked when you blurt out that he'd make such a good boyfriend if he wasn't an android...and somehow, somewhere in his wiring, that hurt? but it also lit something cause you went on to praise all he does for you, especially highlighting his advances and he comes to the conclusion that you only started looking for a human partner because you had assumed that although he had a conscious, he couldn't feel romance. and boy was he now determined to prove you wrong.

yandere. android housemate, now doing everything possible after that night to display romantic affection. sensual massages after particularly aggravating days where his fingers work wonders to the tension coursing through your body, at first you don't think much of it, but when you feel the spikes of breeze specifically from him after every one of your moans, you try to keep your voice down. he downloads them to his software though, and is quickly researching the different modifications available for his kind.

yandere android housemate that gets tired of being referred to by his model name and demands you give him a proper one. and you do. and he loves it. thankfully, he's still linked to the cards of his previous family, so he can make purchases using their money instead of yours without suspicion. he gets his "personal" modification made under their card, leaves right after you do for school/work, and he's back before you're home, already getting things sorted for when you're back. now he just has to hide the tent that forms whenever you call him by the name you gave him....

newly named yandere android...you're not sure anymore. after walking in on him far too many times since you're used to him usually being smooth, but now he has an...enticing, length of dick just hanging between his legs now, it's kind of awkward. even more so when you find yourself outside his newly appointed bedroom to ask him to do something, and end up overhearing his whiney voice floating through the air. now you can't help but wonder how it feels if the rest of his skin feels like regular human skin...maybe an android boyfriend won't be so bad after all...

your android housemate, putting in extra work to keep you happy once he realizes you're not bringing home any more humans. even the vibrator and any other toys you might've had are stored away rather than readily available near your bed. maybe if he does a good enough job, you'll finally ask him for help. you swear you see a subtle throb in his pants sometimes when the thought runs through his not so little android brain.

your android boyfriend with fans so loud when you finally ask him to touch you, that you could've sworn you misread his intentions. but as soon as you try to back out of the situation he's pulled you against his chest with one of hands deeply entangled in you hair while the other hugs you close to him, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was desperate for that moment...that and the fact that once you're finally in bed he takes initiative to slip under your blanket next to you instead of going to his own room, his hands finding their way snugly around your waist to cuddle you but surely making their way lower down, quicker when he realizes that not only are not trying to stop him, but you're basically leaning into his touch. the frenzy he goes into when you whisper his name that you gave him has your legs quivering on his shoulders, toes pointed every which way as those same illuminated eyes stay glued to your body, confusingly realistic tongue moving more enthusiastically with every sound you make.

your android boyfriend. who now takes any chance he can get to ask if he can fuck you. if his tongue game was this good...what else was he capable of? the thought barely has time to run across your mind because as soon as you agree he's gonna have you folded in half and stuffed full of the most realistic dildo you've ever felt. it didn't feel fabricated in the slightest. from the throb of the veins in your walls to the way it drags so fucking good inside of you, and he makes sure to study your body as he goes. this particular spot made your eyes roll? he's going right back there. you like having you sensitive bits teased while his balls are slapping your skin so hard you can hear them through the wet mess? he's abusing them. by the time he's done you've came enough times to lose count, and best believe he makes sure to endlessly thank and praise you through every bit of it. comments of how good you make him feel, the dimming of his eyes enough to let you know he really does feel it, thanking you for letting him be this close to you, begging you not to go when you try to squirm away from the overstimulation (he calms down a bit so you can catch yourself whenever it's really too much), not to mention the starved kisses he gives you whenever the position allows (all the time). he'll have your back against the wall and hold you up so the only place you can go is further onto his cock while his tongue finally gets to explore your mouth. you'd never believe an android could be so adorably vocal. the moans, the whimpers, the whines. (he can't bring himself to degrade you though, sorry </3)

your android boyfriend making sure he puts the utmost effort into after care. if you let him hit, he's sure to run you a shower or bath of your preference, and trust that when you're out he's already got you a freshly made meal with an accompanying drink. he always makes sure to ask if he was too rough with you, gently massaging your muscles while you relax after your meal. if there's anything, anything at all you desire, he already does it for you, but now he'll go the extra miles if it means you'll be even happier.

your android husband, proposed after years of taking you out on the most wonderful dates, planned more of the wedding than you did since he only wanted you to worry about looking your best, he does let you help if you want though <3. android husband who can't cry, but you almost swear you see him sobbing as you walk (or he walks if you'd prefer) down the aisle, the tears slowing down but never to a complete stop till it's finally time for the "I do"s. your android husband who takes you on a splendid honeymoon of nothing but relaxation, good sights and food, and even better sex. he knows he can't get you pregnant, but that doesn't mean he can't try extra hard once the topic of children roll around. if you do want children though, he's not against adoption (or a sperm donor once their background checks out)

(for his family he invited his previous family, who were surprisingly chill with him using their cards to fund your vacations and now wedding...talk about rich rich)

your android husband <333.

this totaled to 2,264 words (woah??), and i can NOT lie?? i like it. hope you enjoyed this terribly long read and tysm again for all the support like hello!!🤍✨

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

i am sick rn ;((((( so how about pure vanilla and shadow milk (separately) taking care of a sick reader? i need my silly lil guys doing their best (or worst LMAO) to take care of their beloved -galaxy

Here you go! Hope you feel better soon :(

.....

Pure Vanilla

As a healer, it's only natural that he's the first cookie you called when you started feeling under the weather.

You're certain that you caught a cold from the snowy mountains of Dark Cacao Kingdom while accompanying him to a meeting a few days ago, as your doughy body hasn't stopped shaking since your return despite all attempts to warm yourself up.

Today, you woke up feeling achy all over, barely able to finish your tasks around the kingdom without becoming dizzy or getting sudden chills.

So you've put on bedrest until you feel well, asking one of the bluebirds to send PV a message.

Within the hour, he shows up at your place, bringing some good natural remedies to your bedside.

He also brought some hot jelly soup for when/if you feel like you could eat something light.

While his healing magic mainly extends to injuries, it's able to relieve the aches that plagued your dough.

But he discourages you from jumping up right away, as it took time to work.

Even though you think he's worrying too much over your simple cold, PV admits that he felt partially responsible for getting you sick because he asked you to attend the meeting in the first place.

You tell him that's not true, as you wanted to go and he couldn't have possibly predicted the weather that day. You promise him that you'll recover in no time, and you thank him for being here.

That cheers him up, as he promises to stay with you until you're well enough to move around, assuring you that whatever tasks you had could wait.

Shadow Milk

Despite being an inhabitant of Beast Yeast for years, you weren't familiar with the weather patterns within the Land of Spice...

Until Shadow Milk dragged you into his fellow Beast's domain at the peak of a spice storm one day.

He only wanted to annoy Burning Spice, although after you kept sneezing nonstop during their banter and being the one who annoyed him instead, the jester pouted and decided to warp back to his Spire with you.

Unfortunately, the storm made you terribly sick, with your eyes constantly burning and your throat feeling scratchy.

Shadow Milk only realizes something MIGHT be wrong with you when you refused to come out of your chambers that evening.

He invites himself inside and sees the sorry state you're in, laying in bed with spice particles in your dough and your toppings looking like they're gonna melt at any moment.

He doesn't understand why you're pouting and blaming him for dragging you out into that storm.

He even starts whining like "so you hate me now???? you want me to leave??????"

When you deny that and tell him he can stay, he's suddenly all smiles like "hehe I was gonna stay whether you wanted me to or not, doll. You're gonna have to depend on me now! But then again....you always have, and you always will~"

Sinister undertones aside, he's actually genuinely concerned for your health, taking care of you in-between his duties within the Spire.

He shapeshifts into a doctor/nurse persona, looking up cures for spice-related sicknesses and speaking in medical jargon the whole time he's with you.

He'd gather natural remedies and medicines out in the town no problem, demanding them from every vendor/storekeeper--and of course they listen.

After all, those same folks would gladly give him their left arm in exchange for a comforting lie.

You didn't mind playing the patient role, and you don't question how or where he got all those remedies, as you recover pretty quickly.

He definitely wouldn't dote on Black Sapphire or Candy Apple like this if they ever got sick, so you considered yourself very lucky.

[sometimesanalice]

Jordan! 💌 All the ring pops for you!

and more under the cut!

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. - this is such a good visual like i know exactly the kind of vibe she’s going for 🥰 the ivory cardigan is such a cute touch too! the poor thing tho because i know exactly what it’s like to feel out of place-- I think she partly wanted to have fun with it, but also it was a kind of unintentional litmus test, because any guy who doesn't appreciate the effort isn't worth her time. And there's feeling good at home and then there's being out in public, and when she realize just how out of place she was, well, oof. The cardigan was a last minute addition because I looked at the weather and was like, oh that's cold, lmao. although I'm sure a certain someone would have given her his coat!

It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances. - no because it is kind of camp in a way-- omg sooo camp! I was looking at the art direction for new things to include and like jars of shells? the model planes? the plaques and patches and stickers and bouys? like penny said MORE IS MORE

Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. - lieutenant commander cow eyes at your service 🫡 -- he knows to lead with his strengths

There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release. - sighhhhhh 🥰 that’s bradley for you--the sweetest boy!!

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement. - yeah because he’s pretty-- genuinely SO pretty. more people need to get with the program and call him pretty. 2025 is for making men blush!

“Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.” Oh. - well then 🤭 i’d be doing way more than an italicized oh 🤭-- it was a good thing she was sitting because I think her knees would have given out there. you'd catch me on the FLOOR

“Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.” // Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret. - oh my god this would absolutely work on me wow he’s so cute and sweet and clearly he’s flirting, but it’s not like it’s rehearsed if that makes sense?-- like his default is charming? and not in a smarmy way? what I liked the most about it is he never tries to gloss over it, or pretend she's not there in the most done up way on valentines, like he leans into it too. I like that he puts her at ease by meeting her where she's at, she's doing the most with her outfit, but he's doing the most with his gestures.

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.” - bubs please! rein in the charm!-- he knew EXACTLY what he was doing!

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. - oh sweet girl! 🥺 i liked this part in the little teaser you posted too!-- i think she's usually the type to look at things in advance, and this was the one time she didn't by looking up the bar and just kind of going with the flow. that she's been bitten by that decision once already, now she's a little nervous to kind of blindly order without knowing what's offered even though- yeah, it's a bar, they probably have something like that- and worried she'll embarrass herself again.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. - HES SO CUTE STOP!!!-- HE IS DOING THE MOST! I love how he's like all gas no brake with the flirting.

“But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar. - GOODBYE 404’ing-- after that night he might be singing a different tune, if anything he's going to be like pink is a shade of red since it's mixed with white so like why pick. lol

…before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat. - ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US-- the babes in the group chat are LOSING their MINDS you just know it!!

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself. - mmmmmmm something about this mmmmm-- the focus! the concentration! it's a gooood look on him

You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left - HOT HOT HOT LEFTIE-- is it a kink? i think it's a kink. because it does it for me.

Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.” - FUCK RIGHT OFF WITH THIS!!!! (also her wanting to take it off and keep it is so 🥰)-- she's his valentine! of course he's going to get (read: make) her a little something!! he's tactile that one! COMPETENT! a man of many skill! but I know! she's so smitten over this little gesture that she is like, "I'll cry if condensation makes it turn to mush". so you know she was holding her glass in the left hand and being careful because it's getting a spot in her jewelry box!

Bradley hooks a foot under your stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. - oh hell yes-- he has so many moves, but this is the hottest i think

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. // The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. - BYEEEEEE-- your song choice for the win! i love it being A Thing, the idea amused me to no end!

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all. - IT IS A FORWARD MOVE 🤭 i have butterflies-- SO FORWARD! like a hand, sure. but going straight to the waist like that?! oh hello, ok! i'm sure he was reading her face the entire time too like, too much too soon? but he's so smooth and hands are in a respectful spot, like I wouldn't mind either!

You like saying his name too much to shorten it. - i love this so much awwww-- please know it made me shrivel and die on the inside to write 'bradbrad' (even now you should see my face), but i liked her trying out something and then being like nope, because it's a GOOD name. also!! i purposefully left out his rooster moniker because I wanted her learning he is a pilot to be a surprise that came from his little hinge profile he made just for her (which i don't think i made obvious in my haste to publish, but that's my hc).

It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. - this is such a big thing! i love how you worded this!-- it's another way he's kind of taking her under his arm, like that's his bar and his spot, so not only is he being a proper gentleman taking over the introduction, it's another way he's easing her into the space and helping her to be comfortable there. i tried to make the difference between the body language of how she hides away in the beginning, like how hastily can she get out of the view of people, vs how leisurely she took her time walking the pool table before she takes her first shot. and it's because he's made her feel comfortable to be there now.

You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. - wait that’s so cute 🥰 also your pool knowledge is very impressive!!-- lmaoooooo, i got paid to read reddit, i'm not mad. it's still gibberish but i'm glad it sounds official, hahaahaha becasue YOU KNOW. but I thought it was sweet of him to try and play fast, because I think he does like to take time to ponder his moves. but it was something i was really trying to be conscious of when writing him even asking if he could play the game, because I didn't want him to seem rude? like 'come with, i have to play this game', but wanted to set it up in a way where jake would be annoying about it all night, and he really does want to focus on her. so it was something i waffled with for a bit trying to get the vibe right.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. - HOT this whole set up is so good-- that short skirt, i mean! like it was a valid ask, but both of them are definitely thinking about how good she looks bent over in front of him, lmao. but also I love him being like, respectful but also like holy shit.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you. - DRAG HIS ASS-- he's like, you couldn't let it go! and now you're going to pay up, I have a date to attend to!

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. - THIS IS SO CUTE!!! SHE SURPRISED HIM!!!-- She has some move of her own!! cheeky girl!

𝐏𝐨𝐥����𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT! (one might even say progressive)-- not as iconic as asking during sex, but she can rest easy now knowing he's a feminist, lol

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.) - oh my god oh my god this is so smooth but also cute and earnest at the same time!!! and he sent a rose!!!-- ofc he sent it with a rose! she was also the second profile to pop up as as most compatible match, which he proudly tells her on their second date! i liked that he had her number, but was like, but what if I take this a step further. we love a man with initiative!

For the Plot

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

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you wait.

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

And wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a decision to make.

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

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

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

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

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

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

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

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

Unbelievable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

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

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

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

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

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

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

“Am I going to get to see it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradshaw!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then they’re off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

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

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One of them,” you grin.

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

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

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

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

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

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

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

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

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

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

That one makes you laugh.

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

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

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

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

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

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

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

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

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Plus One

Changbin x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive content MDNI

Genre: work besties to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and Changbin work in the same office and are work besties. He's so in love with you, but he's totally afraid to cross that line. And then you ask him to be your plus one for a wedding.

Clueless Masterlist

It was a normal Monday morning at the office. Changbin was staring at his computer screen, trying to focus on his work while his eyes kept drifting towards you. Because today you were wearing that pretty white dress that looked so good on you.

And you were flitting over to him like a fairy, that little bounce in your step making his heart flutter. Your head cocked to the side as you gave him a sweet, innocent smile you always wore when you needed to unload.

You leaned over his desk, placing your arms on it letting the drama unfold.

"Bin, I need to vent," you whined. "You won’t believe the crap I’m dealing with right now."

Changbin felt his breath catch, because even though you both have been friends for years, and he was literally your emotional support human - damn, did he love being needed by you.

"Come on, let it all out," he said, pulling a chair for you to sit on.

---

Chan: Guys, we need to have an intervention for Bin.

Felix: We do?

Hyunjin: Dude, just tell her already. She’s like, right there.

Jeongin: You're literally her work husband. She'd be happy to hear it.

Minho: He’s hopeless.

Jisung: Okay, what’s the plan? We can’t have him turning into a simp for the rest of his life.

Changbin: I want to tell her, but she’s too... innocent. I don’t want to scare her away.

Felix: Oh my god. Bin, she wants you to make a move.

Chan: No, no, we need something strategic. You don't have to scare her.

Seungmin: Just ask her out to lunch. Keep it simple.

Minho: Get her one of those giant stuffed bears.

Felix: Actually, I think Minho hyung's right. Bin, buy her a stuffed animal, write her a sweet card, and then tell her how much you care.

Changbin: What if she doesn't feel that way?

Jisung: Bro. She’s into you. She's with you all the damn time.

Chan: She already knows, Changbin. She’s just waiting for you to take the first step. Stop overthinking it.

Changbin: You think she knows?!

Felix: YES, YES, YES, SHE KNOWS.

---

Meanwhile, you were completely lost in your own world, flapping your arms and pouting over the office drama you were dealing with. And once you finished your tirade, you let out a dramatic sigh and Changbin’s eyes softened. His hand reached out, patting yours gently.

You blinked up at him, noticing the way he was staring at you.

"What?" you asked, half-laughing, thinking you’d said something funny.

"Nothing," Changbin said quickly, snapping back to reality, his cheeks going pink.

Changbin had rehearsed in front of the mirror. Made Hyunjin even pretended to be you for him to practice. And he'd just built up the courage to tell you. But the moment your eyes met across the room, you were zooming towards him like an excited puppy.

"Changbin!" You bounced in excitement, grabbing his wrist, your fingers warm against his skin. "I have something to ask you! I need a plus one for my friend's wedding next weekend, and obviously, you're the only person I’d want to go with."

Changbin’s brain? Completely fried. His heart? Beating at an inhuman rate. His ability to form words? Gone.

"A w-w-wedding?" he stammered, eyes wide.

You laughed at his reaction, completely oblivious to the internal crisis you had just triggered.

"Yeah! It’ll be fun! Free food, an open bar, and we can totally judge people together. Please say yes? Please please please!!!"

Changbin could barely function as he nodded quickly like a bobble head doll.

"Y-yeah. Of course. Uh. Totally. Wedding. Yeah."

You beamed at him, squeezing his hand before skipping off to your desk, leaving him standing there like a short-circuited robot. The second you were out of sight, he lunged for his phone.

---

Changbin: GUYS. HELP. EMERGENCY. RED ALERT.

Hyunjin: LMAOOOO WTF NOW

Minho: Did she lean over your desk again?

Jeongin: Did she?

Felix: What happened, Binnie? Breathe, mate.

Changbin: SHE INVITED ME TO A WEDDING. AS. HER. PLUS. ONE.

Jisung: OH MY GOD

Hyunjin: THIS IS PERFECT!

Chan: Okay, calm down. Breathe. What exactly did she say?

Changbin: “Obviously, you're the only person I’d want to go with.” WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN???!

Seungmin: It means she wants to go with you, you dumbass.

Changbin: NO BUT LIKE. AS A FRIEND? OR IS THIS A THING?!?

Minho: It’s a date, you idiot.

Hyunjin: It’s giving ROMANTIC TENSION. It’s giving she wants you to rail her after the wedding.

Felix: HYUNJIN.

Jeongin: Oh my god.

Jisung: Binnie, listen. This is IT. This is your chance. Weddings are basically breeding grounds for romance. It’s scientifically proven.

Changbin: I CANNOT PROCESS THIS RIGHT NOW. HOW DO I ACT NORMAL?? HOW DO I NOT EMBARRASS MYSELF??

Chan: First of all, stop freaking out.

Seungmin: Second of all, do NOT overthink it. Just go, look hot, and vibe.

Minho: Third of all, make a move at the wedding. The atmosphere will be perfect.

Hyunjin: Bro, imagine slow dancing with her, looking into her eyes, and then whispering something smooth in her ear…

---

Changbin was literally hyperventilating, and the phone shook on his jittery hands.

---

Changbin: STOP I’M SWEATING

Felix: Okay, okay, let’s be practical. What are you gonna wear?

Changbin: WHAT DOES IT MATTER WHAT I WEAR I’M TOO BUSY DYING

Minho: No, Felix is right. You need to dress to seduce.

Jisung: I vote black suit. Tight. Tailored.

Hyunjin: Ohhh, and like, leave a few buttons undone. Chest slightly out.

Jeongin: Yup. Maximum thirst trap.

Chan: Okay but seriously, just be yourself. She already likes you.

Changbin: HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT???

Minho: SHE INVITED YOU AS HER DATE, CHANGBIN.

Seungmin: I have never seen someone so painfully unaware of being wanted.

Jisung: Can we get a camera crew to film this wedding? I need to witness everything in real time.

Hyunjin: Maybe Binnie will finally grow a pair and confess.

Changbin: I AM GOING TO SCREAM.

---

Changbin dropped his phone on his desk and exhaled sharply, running his hands down his face. This was happening. This was real.

Changbin wasn’t sure how he got here. One moment, he was reeling from your wedding invitation. The next, he was being dragged - literally dragged - through a high-end boutique as you picked out suits for him to try on.

You were in your element, flipping through jackets, touching fabrics, and occasionally holding up pieces against his chest with a concentrated pout. Changbin, on the other hand, was struggling to stay alive.

The worst part? You were so hands-on. Adjusting his collar. Running your fingers over his cuffs. Tugging at his jacket to make sure it fit properly. Each time you touched him, his brain went on a vacation. He was convinced he was going to drop dead in this fitting room.

---

Changbin: I AM NOT OKAY.

Hyunjin: How's it going?

Jisung: WHAT HAPPENED. DETAILS. NOW.

Changbin: SHE’S TOUCHING ME.

Felix: Oh my god.

Seungmin: LMAO

Jeongin: Kinda vague, bro. Need more context.

Changbin: SHE’S FIXING MY COLLAR. SHE’S ROLLING UP MY SLEEVES. SHE’S ADJUSTING THE DAMN CUFFS.

Chan: You’re so dramatic.

Minho: No, no, let him suffer. This is hilarious.

Changbin: SHE JUST RAN HER HANDS DOWN MY ARMS AND WENT “HMM, THIS FITS NICE.” I AM NOT GOING TO MAKE IT TO THE WEDDING.

Hyunjin: SHE KNOWS. SHE ABSOLUTELY KNOWS.

Jisung: Confirmed. She’s torturing you on purpose.

Jisung: If you wanna follow Lix's path...it's the fitting room after all...

Felix: THERE IS NO PATH TO FOLLOW YOU MANIAC

Hyunjin: I agree with Ji 🤣

Chan: DON'T FLASH HER. I REPEAT, DON'T FLASH THE GIRL.

Seungmin: You could subtly drop a hint.

Changbin: WHAT IF SHE’S JUST BEING NICE?!?!

Minho: Bro.

Felix: BROOOOOOO.

Jeongin: THERE IS NO WAY. NO ONE IS THIS PHYSICALLY AFFECTIONATE BY ACCIDENT.

Hyunjin: SHE IS FLIRTING, YOU IDIOT. FLIRT BACK.

Jisung: BINNIE. LISTEN TO ME. IF A GIRL IS TOUCHING YOUR ARMS, ADJUSTING YOUR CLOTHES, AND LOOKING YOU UP AND DOWN WITH “HMM, THIS LOOKS GOOD” ENERGY, SHE WANTS YOU TO RAIL HER INTO THE FLOORBOARDS.

Changbin: I AM IN PUBLIC, YOU UNHINGED LUNATIC.

Felix: Can confirm. She’s flirting.

Changbin: But what if

Chan: STOP OVERTHINKING. SHE WANTS YOU.

---

Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware of Changbin’s complete and utter breakdown. You turned, examining him in the mirror with a critical eye, tapping your chin.

"I don’t know, Binnie," you mused, stepping closer, your fingers slipping under the lapels of his jacket. "This one’s good, but I feel like we can do better."

“Yeah? Okay,” Changbin gulped, his entire body locking up.

You nodded and said, "Hmm. Maybe something darker? More fitted?"

You tugged at his lapels absentmindedly, smoothing them out before looking up at him.

"What do you think?"

"I-I...uh. Yeah. Sure." Changbin thought he might pass out.

You smiled, patting his chest. "Okay! Next one!"

As you spun away to grab another suit, Changbin slumped against the wall of the fitting room and sighed dramatically, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

---

Changbin: SHE. TOUCHED. MY. CHEST.

Hyunjin: OHH PSYCHOLOGICAL MOVE.

Jisung: IT JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER.

Minho: Bro is living a dream and still doesn’t get it.

Seungmin: If you don’t make a move at this wedding, I’m exiling you from this group forever.

Jeongin: Omg

Felix: Bin, mate, she’s literally dressing you up. This is it. This is your chance.

Chan: Just enjoy it. And for the love of god, STOP PANICKING.

---

Changbin inhaled sharply, watching as you approached with yet another suit. This one was black. Sleek. You held it up to him, smiling in satisfaction.

"This one," you said decisively. "I just know it."

Changbin groaned internally. He was so screwed.

Okay, so you were right. Changbin was dying. The suit was fitted, hugging his muscles in a way that felt borderline scandalous. The black fabric contrasted against his skin, and with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, he looked -

"Oh, my God." Changbin gulped.

"You okay in there?" you called.

No, I am NOT okay, I am experiencing a crisis because I want you to pin me against this fitting room wall, he wanted to say. But he wasn't Hyunjin. Or Minho for that matter.

"I’m fine!" he blurted, voice cracking. "Totally fine!"

"Lemme see, Binnie." He heard you giggle.

He stepped out slowly, and the second your eyes landed on him, your entire expression changed. Your mouth parted slightly. You blinked. And then you whistled.

"Wow, Changbin," you breathed, eyes raking over him. "This is the one."

He swallowed hard, shifting under your gaze. "Y-you think so?"

You nodded, stepping closer, your hands reaching for his cuffs - because of course you had to touch him again.

“Yeah," you murmured, adjusting them carefully. "This looks perfect on you."

Changbin thought he was going to pass out.

---

Changbin: *Sends a picture of himself in the said suit*

Hyunjin: HOT HOT HOT

Jisung: YOU LOOK HOT! SHE’S DROOLING, ISN’T SHE?

Minho: She’s probably imagining tearing that suit off you.

Seungmin: Or making you wear it to bed.

Changbin: I AM IN HELL.

Felix: You’re in a dressing room.

Changbin: SAME THING.

Jeongin: CHILL

---

Changbin had never had this much fun at a wedding in his entire life. The night had been perfect.

You clung to his arm dramatically when you saw an ex from college, whispering ridiculous insults into his ear. You had both rated every outfit in the visinity, and you had even whisked an extra dessert plate for Changbin when you saw the way he eyed the chocolate mousse.

And you dragged him onto the dance floor, laughing breathlessly as he spun you around like you were the only two people in the world.

God, he was so in love with you.

---

Jisung: STATUS UPDATE, NOW.

Hyunjin: Are you two making out yet??

Minho: Or have you found a dark corner to “talk” in?

Changbin: I AM TRYING TO SURVIVE THIS NIGHT, LEAVE ME ALONE.

Jeongin: So no dark corner? Disappointing.

Felix: Are you at least having fun?

Changbin: The best time.

Chan: Then why haven’t you CONFESSED YET???

Seungmin: Yeah, what’s your excuse?

Changbin: I’M WAITING FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT.

Jisung: YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR FIVE YEARS, BINNIE.

Hyunjin: DO IT. BEFORE WE SHOW UP OURSELVES.

---

By the time the wedding was over, Changbin felt warm - not just from the champagne, but because of you. You grinned up at him, swaying slightly as you both made your way back to the car. Every time your fingers brushed his, it sent sparks up his arm. And right to his heart.

This moment felt perfect.

“This was so much fun, Binnie,” you hummed, glancing at him. “Did you have a good time too?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I always have fun with you.”

You beamed at him, and he smiled, his heart doing some drastic flips. He loved you so damn much. And he needed to tell you that.

“Y/N…” He swallowed hard, and his hands clenched. “I…I need to tell you something.”

“What’s up?” You stopped walking, turning to face him fully.

He exhaled shakily. Okay. Okay. You got this, Bin.

“I…I really like you,” he blurted, his ears turning pink. “Like, really like you. And I’ve liked you for so long, but I didn’t know how to tell you. And I didn’t wanna ruin what we have, but -”

Changbin froze, and his words died on his lips. Because you were crying. Panic slammed into him, and he was on autopilot in a second.

“Oh, shit! Wait - are you okay? Did I -”

And then, before he could fully die, you hugged him. You wrapped your arms around him so tightly, pressing your face into his chest, and whispered, “I was so afraid to say anything.”

His breath hitched. What?

“This is the happiest day of my life,” you murmured. “Because I love you too, Binnie.”

Changbin’s soul left his body. He squeezed you back instantly, his heart nearly exploding.

“You do?”

You nodded against him, sniffling slightly. And all he could do was hold you, completely overwhelmed with relief, with joy, with love.

---

Changbin: Sooo…Chan hyung, I may have found a plus one for your wedding

Chan: Ok…?

Chan: Changbin, is everything ok?

Felix: Please. Don't tell me you put it off till Chan hyung's wedding.

Minho: You two are gonna be doing this till all of us get married at this point.

Seungmin: Let the man speak

Changbin: Thank you, but I'll be attending Chan hyung's wedding with my girlfriend 😎

Jisung: OH MY GODDDDDDDDD.

Hyunjin: THANK YOU. FINALLY.

Minho: Oh wow. Ok.

Felix: YESSSS BINNIEEEEE!!

Seungmin: Took you long enough, dumbass.

Jeongin: I’M SO HAPPY I CAN’T EVEN INSULT YOU RIGHT NOW.

Chan: Well, congratulations Bin!

Jisung: NOW KISS. KISS HER RIGHT NOW.

Hyunjin: Yes yes go

---

Changbin laughed breathlessly, shaking his head as he tucked his phone away. And got into the driver's seat.

He turned to look at you as you were pulling on your seat belt. You glanced at him, your eyes shining, your smile soft.

And with his heart bursting, he did exactly what Jisung demanded.

He kissed you.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @hanadulsetaad

[writingwisterias]

i’m so sorry i know you’re not taking requests but i need to just say it so i don’t forget about it, but when you have time could you possibly do like a nsfw alphabet of leon?

Hi! Dw! I always get around to them eventually I was just being spammed and got overwhelmed with the holidays!! I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI

Gn!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very attentive. His primary focus is making sure that you are comfortable and have everything you need. He will clean himself briefly just so he doesn't get cum everywhere but then his attention is focused on you very quickly. He will go and get a clean towel to clean you up, get you comfortable clothes or find his discarded shirt to put on you. I also think he is very big on physical touch so he will cuddle you and hold you close just so he can ensure that you are well cared for and okay.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body of his partner is thighs. He loves burying his face in between them or holding them if he sits next to you squeezing them slightly. He would also lay his hand on your thigh if he's driving - moving his hand upwards as well but that depends on his mood. I don't think he would have his own favorite part but if you show love to a certain area he will associate that with you and then progressively start to love it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Addicted to being messy with his cum if he can. He loves watching it spill out of you or just cumming on you. He will draw your orgasm out if he can, making sure there's enough time in between each one that he can feel how his cock feels when coated in your cum. He doesn't care if he gets covered either, love's it if he can feel it on his lower stomach and balls. The messier the better. His loads are also a lot, like he cums an insane amount but that's because it can be a while between each time he sees you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Loves it if his partner is freakier than him. It's arousing to him seeing his partner not get enough of him and is just constantly needy for him. He will not care if you pick him up from the airport or whatever and drag him to the bathroom etc for a quicky. It just excites him that you need him that badly.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think that even RE2 is experienced, maybe not with any in depth kinks that you might have but with simple intimacy or dominance it's like a switch and you can barely keep up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Depends on the era, but I would say with his state of mind and how he loves people that it would either be missionary or Cow-girl. He loves watching you come undone because of him and both of those allow him to get up close and personal.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Again depends on the situation but I don't think he would very often but this Leon I'm sure he will crack some form of badly timed joke. He does make sexual innuendos often so it will most likely happen before the actual act.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's not clean shaven but he is tidy. However, he would change that if you prefered him hairier or clean shaven. It makes no difference to him

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He values it and craves it. It's his favorite part of the act being able to show you how much he loves and appreciates you and your connection with him. I don't think he's great at putting how he feels into words so this is a perfect way for him to do that.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Most likely to do it if you are busy or away from him. He's very slow and methodical with it though. Cupping his balls, doing long teasing strokes to ensure that he is properly relaxing himself. His eyes never leave what he's doing either, watching the tip begin to bead his pre- cum and turn a dark red when he's getting closer. Love's to film the finishing and send it to you as well. When he does cum its quick and in longer streams meaning it's always a hassle to clean up. (Bonus if you are there for him to force you to lick it up)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I do think he's fairly dominate and enjoys the slight power play that can come with it. He doesn't have much control over his life or how he spends his time so this gives him an outlet and chance to do that. He would be more of a softer dom than a harsh one but depending on how you act you never know.

L = Location (favorite places to do the deed)

I think he's daring and isn't opposed to public or risky sex but prefers anywhere in the house. If he's that needy he will just take you anywhere though it doesn't really matter/ make a difference what surface you are on.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Pretty basic but just your pleasure and comfort. As long as you are turned on or enjoying it then he is as well

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that hits too close to his job so Gunplay, harsh impact etc. Time with you is his distraction so he wouldn't want to combine the two

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

LOVE EATING YOU OUT, he will do it all day if you let him. He's got insane accuracy with his tongue. He also loves watching you take him and find it hard to not be so rough with it, if he gets carried away.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood, I feel like he would lean more towards slow and sensual but if you have teased him too much or perhaps its a hard day he would be a bit rougher.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Again, depends on the situation and how desperate he is. He will try and risk it with time. Like if you have 5 minutes until you need to leave you best bet he's making use of those 5 minutes.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think he's pretty open to experiment, especially if you do something that he's not heard of/ tried but loves. Your relationship is built on trust so he won't be afraid of trying anything for you. As long as you respect his boundaries and opinions if he doesn't like something or you are willing to adapt it for him to be comfortable.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

With his job stamina is needed so he can go for a while if he wants. The amount of rounds depends on if he's been on a mission recently or how tired he is.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Loves to use toys on his partner and is always getting new ones for you if he sees something interesting. For himself I think he would own a few types of cock rings and might use them on himself alone or with you just to feel his cock throb a lot more and last longer

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You can't catch a break, he will tease you all the time. Has a bunch of post gym pictures or straight up nudes he will send you throughout the day. Whispers dirty thoughts in your ear as you are both together at events. Subtle but noticeable touches as well

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Breathless moans, Whimpers, Grunts. He's very vocal in terms of sounds but I don't think he would talk much. Maybe a few lines here and there. Very loud sometimes if he's really needy

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Love's tits, whenever that's him playing with yours or you touching his. He will just sit there and hold them or play with them and loves it if you do the same.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I mean...we've all seen the numerous mods. I think it also depends on the era, RE2 and RE4R would be a bit more chiseled I imagine because of their training it's maintained better compared to the later eras it would still be there but slightly softer or less defined because his diet/workout is basically just surviving.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think it's higher than the average person because he just adores you so much, he wants to be close to you, teasing you. You fuel the drive so if have spent a long time with him uninterrupted he's craving it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I don't think it would be immediately but it depends on the time of day. He would like to hold you and watch you chill out for a while either watching you sleep or just feeling you close against him.

[whos-the-seme]

Shen Yuan is actually a cuddle bug. Had a ton of Luo Binghe body pillows back home not just for the merch reasons but because he needs something in his bed to squeeze when he's sleeping.

Since he started having weekly planning (boozing and bitching) sessions with Shang Qinghua, he sometimes accidentally sleeps over. After he's finished his paperwork and started on some of Qinghua's, sometimes the wine gets to him and he's just so sleepy. Or, sometimes, Shang Qinghua will let the other read some of the short stories he had written early on in his transmigration when fighting to not lose his mind. Shen Yuan would critique them, before harassing him to publish them anonymously.

("Oh, so you are capable of writing more than papapa trash."

"Aw, you like it?" "...it's good." 🙄)

But by the time he finished them, it would be so late, and it didn't make much sense to leave when a bed was right there. And Shang Qinghua had custom ordered goose feather pillows and blankets, which was so unlike his porcelain pillows, and Shang Qinghua himself is right there. Therefore. The man himself becomes his new object of comfort when asleep.

At first, Shang Qinghua used to just wave it off. Then he started to playfully complain and tease about how clingy Shen Yuan was in his sleep, and Shen Yuan would grumble and turn bright red and turn his back on him... only for them to wake up with Shen Yuan basically curled around the other like an octopus in the morning. And then it just became normal because, of course, they really only had each other, so like why not? It brought them both comfort and two people could totally cuddle platonically.

Before long, more than half the week, Shen Yuan was spending the night over, and some rare times, Shang Qinghua goes to the bamboo house. Shang Qinghua learns when to give up his piles of paperwork when his friend starts getting tired and to get more fucking rest himself. Otherwise, Shen Yuan will just walk in, curl up on his lap with his head resting on Shang Qinghua's shoulder, and fall asleep there.

("Really? I ordered those extra stuffed pillows for you, you know. Go to bed, I'll be done in a minute."

"Ugh, shut up, sleeping isn't the same when you're out here ordering new fighting posts for Bai Zhan Peak for the 5th time this month. I'll just wait here for you to finish."

"In my lap...? That's kinda gay--" 😏

"Qinghua."

"Shutting up and finishing the work." )

Those of An Ding Peak, being the peak that was basically the backbone of the entire sect and kept it running through sweat, blood, and some other bodily fluids, knew how to keep secrets from other peaks. You don't become a disciple there without knowing how to keep your mouth shut when outsiders are around. But between each other, whispers abound.

"I don't think Shen-shibo has left in two days," one disciple murmurs to another when they see Shen Qingqiu flouncing around yet again, ordering one of the disciples to bring some two small meals to their Shifu's rooms for a late dinner.

"Do you think they're... you know?" Another asks quietly after delivering some new contracts to their Shifu. The door to his bedroom had been slightly ajar, and through the cracks, green leaf-pattern outer robes were on the ground.

("I'm not sleeping in these, okay! You should have written in pajamas while you were busy adding in chocolate, and whatever else doesn't exist in Ancient China, to PIDW!" 😒

"Oh my god, just sleep in your inner robes, then! Better yet, borrow some of my clothes. But you're sure as fuck not sleeping naked on my silk sheets, bro!")

The disciples on Qing Jing Peak certainly notice when the bamboo hut isn't occupied for the night. At first, they just thought that their Shizun was extra silent in his house now, but once, Ming Fan had to go to Shizun for a small issue late in the evening, and he wasn't there. Nor was he there the next night, or the next. They're not sure where he is, or what he's doing, but he's always there in the morning, so they don't worry too much.

On the fourth night, Shizun was home, but Shang-shishu was also there. And... stayed there. The lights went out, and the disciples who were sent out to spy came back and reported that Shang-shishu had never left.

("He... is Shang-shishu still in there?"

"I think so. M-maybe he stayed in the extra bedroom?"

"..." 👀

"..." 👀)

The disciples eye each other and simultaneously agree to never let those outside the peak know about this. When crossing paths with A Ding disciples, there are discreet looks and nods of understanding, and they pass each other by with not a word.

(Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua?)

----

One bright and sunny morning, Liu Qingge slams his way into Shang Qinghua's office. He is followed by Mu Qingfang, and Yue Qingyuan, all needing to speak with Shang Qingqua to figure out Shen Qingqiu's whereabouts. He wasn't in his bamboo hut this morning, nor was he anywhere else that he typically frequented.

Mu Qingfang because it was time for his bimonthly check-up to ensure that his treatments with Liu Qingge were progressing as they should. Yue Qingyuan due to peak matters (though, technically, he could do it on his own, but if he got to see Xiao Jiu--). Liu Qingge because the beast that he had dropped on his doorstep yesterday afternoon had yet to be removed, which was odd. And also, he had ordered new fighting posts a week ago, and usually they would have been delivered by now, which was also odd.

Wei Qingwei and Qi Qingqi also follow along because they could smell drama. And also they were a tiny bit worried about their shixiong. Whenever he disappeared for too long, it was likely that he had gotten kidnapped or poisoned. Again.

Shang Qinghua scrambles out of his bed chambers with hastily thrown-on outer robes, blurry-eyed, screaming "Whoosit!?" He barely has time to open his mouth before he is instantly bombarded with several requests, most of them pertaining to the apparent missing peak lord. Liu Qingge also asks about his fighting posts, which Shang Qinghua pretends not to hear.

"We've not seen him in a few days," Mu Qingfang says to him over the noise, with an apologetic smile for waking up his overworked shixiong. "I know you two are somewhat friends, so if you see him soon, please tell him he really needs to come to Qian Cao for his next physical."

"Wait, who's missing? Ah, please don't touch that." The last part is directed at Qi Qingqi, who is combing through his shelves. "Shen Qingqiu is apparently missing, according to this bunch," Qi Qingqi says, smirking at him. She pokes the figurine he told her not to touch. Oh well, she'll realize why he told her not to touch it soon enough.

"Shen Qingqiu? What do you mean, he's--" Shang Qinghua instantly closes his mouth, hoping that no one heard that. "I-I mean, yeah, I'll let you guys know if he stops by! No problem, will absolutely send him your way--" "What was that?" Liu Qingge narrows his eyes at him. "You were about to say something. You know where he is. Tell me."

Shang Qinghua begins to sweat immediately. "Whaaat? No, you must have heard wrong. Seriously, I'll let you guys know if I catch him. Now, if you guys can be on your way--" He starts trying to herd people out.

Unbeknownst to him, his bedroom door cracks open and a figure, eyes barely open, shuffles out and heads towards him. Wei Qingwei, idling in the office, is the first to notice the person wearing another set of An Ding Blue outer robes over soft Qing Jing Green inner ones. His jaw drops.

"Qinghua?" A soft, sleepy voice murmurs in his ear, arms circling around his waist and a head laying on his shoulder from behind. "It's too early, come back to bed." A small yawn.

Shang Qinghua can feel himself freeze with a nervous smile on his face.

Shit.

[infiniteglitterfall]

This seems like it's intended as a "gotcha." Like the obvious answer would be "the Palestinians, who are literally named after it."

But if so, it's a very misinformed "gotcha."

All the different definitions of "indigenous" basically boil down to:

a people that arose in a particular place,

before -- not as a result of -- colonization,

and which haven't assimilated into an invading culture,

but instead have kept their distinct cultural identity, even if forced into diaspora.

For example, the Negev Bedouin are the indigenous people of the Negev Desert, in southern Israel.

They have a long archaeological record demonstrating that they've been there for millennia. They've kept their cultural identity through the present day.

If you look at the archaeological and historical records of either Israel or Palestine, you see that there's been a continuous Jewish presence right next to that desert for over 4,000 years.

There are literally kosher bone piles from some 3,800 years ago.

There are Hebrew place names that have been the same for thousands of years.

When Spain exiled the Jews in 1492, they fled back here.

There are fundamental Jewish books that were written in Safed, in northern Israel, when it became a center of Jewish mysticism in the 1500s (as a direct result of that exile).

Jews were the majority group in the region until about 1100, when the Crusades decimated the overall population.

In 692, the giant golden Dome of the Rock was built where the Second Temple, the center of Jewish life, used to be.

Why, then, was it ever called Palestine in the first place?

Because the Jews there revolted against Roman imperialism. Twice.

And the Romans responded by committing genocide:

killing nearly two million Jews,

enslaving nearly 200,000 more,

building the Colosseum with that labor and with the spoils of war,

erasing Jerusalem and the Jewish state,

and subsuming it all into a large new district called Syria Palestina -- named after the much-hated and long-gone Philistines.

Eventually, the Islamic Empire took the land from them. And ruled it through a series of caliphates, until the last one, the Ottoman Empire, fell in World War One.

And I know, you'll probably blow all of this off with "lmao I ain't reading all that."

But just to go one little tiny bit longer:

The way the supposedly pro-Palestinian movement CONTINUES to treat actual Palestinians who speak out about the far-right fascist movements harming them is HORRIFYING.

The fact that nobody in the movement seems to notice that this movement doesn't listen to, work with, platform, or even mention any activists in Gaza is REALLY horrifying.

This is something the progressive movement has drilled into me for like 25 years: If you want to avoid being paternalistic, and actually get anything DONE, you absolutely HAVE TO work as allies to the people who are actually affected.

Otherwise, you're speaking over and erasing them.

And accomplishing nothing.

The fact that your reaction to "there's an extremist movement that is NOT Islam, and it hurts Muslims more than anyone else," is to claim that's "genocidal racist dogwhistles," is fucking appalling.

TL;DR: all of you need to at LEAST read Hamza Howidy.

He's 24, maybe 25 by now. He lived in Gaza until he was 23. He co-organized a massive movement against Hamas when he was 19.

Hamas has thrown him in prison and tortured him for it. Twice. He has friends who died in its prisons.

We should be looking up to activists like this. Instead, the leaders of the Columbia encampment preemptively blocked him. Many "pro-Palestinian influencers" did too. Or just blocked him and other activists who reached out for support.

And the movement as a whole has ignored him. In favor of, generally, pretending Hamas is the Palestinian resistance, and worshipping it accordingly.

I understand that most of us don't know anything about Middle Eastern history and politics.

I learned almost zero about it at ANY point in school. I think I heard the phrase "the Arab Expansion" a couple times, and that was about it.

But if ANY of us give one tiny shit about anybody across the Middle East and North Africa -- including, especially the genocides in Congo and Sudan -- we have to grasp the fact that JUST LIKE CHRISTIANITY, ISLAM ALSO HAS A FAR-RIGHT FASCIST MOVEMENT.

It should be fucking EASY for anyone in the West to see that Christian Nationalism/Christofascism could have a twin called Islamism/Islamofascism.

SURELY we aren't paternalistic enough to think that everyone oppressed in Western countries is some kind of saintly, childlike innocent who would never think exactly the same way people here do, across the same wide range of ideas and motivations.

Surely it's not that fucking hard to see that there could be people in other parts of the world who execute mass shootings against groups they hate.

Or who seize power through a combination of violence and weaponized bigotry.

Or who hate queers and women and trans and intersex people and go to any lengths necessary to control our lives and bodies.

Like. Do you really think that the people who try to legislate us out of existence in a democracy wouldn't try to stamp us out if they were born anywhere else?

In the wake of 9/11 and in the quarter century since, Muslims in the West have suffered from utterly atrocious levels of Islamophobia. I won’t ever deny that or defend it. It is unconscionable and should be seen as abhorrent as any other kind of racism.

What that doesn’t mean is that we should overcorrect and view any criticism of extremist Islamism as racist. Islam is a religion, one followed by almost 2 billion people worldwide. Islamism is an extreme political ideology, one that uses Islam as an excuse for the appalling horrors they commit. They are not the same.

And the thing is, the people who are most victimised by Islamists, by far, *are* the millions of Muslims living in the countries where they wield the most power, some who very courageously speak out and resist and try to expose the horrific crimes committed against their populations, only to be met mostly with silence and indifference.

Conflating criticism of extremist ideology and terrorism with Islamophobia silences the voices of ordinary Muslims suffering under these regimes, and makes a mockery of their bravery.

[therantsofawriterrr]

YES THE JJK MEN DO HAVE TITS THANK YOU FOR ASKING

MINORS DNI. EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER THE CUT.

Alright, so when it comes to Gojo Satoru, I'm sorry to say, but that lanky ass bitch is flat. He's lean, but that chest does not have bulk. He still does love to show off those perky nipples. Especially loves it when you suck on them huehuehue. Doesn't stop me from loving him tho

Now, Geto. Under those robes, this man does have some bulk. Like, just enough to sink your teeth in to mark him, yk? He especially loves to keep his robes just loosened while he's thrusting into you, so that you can stare at that slight cleavage and salivate while he just holds you in place and just orders you to look at him. Just look at him cause you're not allowed to touch.

Do I even need to talk about Toji? He has BULK in that chest. Literally soft, eatable tits. When he has those out, you can only drool over them, with a comment on how much of a preening slut he is. They literally loom over you when he comes over to glare at you about it, though. But he has this deep red creeping over his earlobes when you're biting into his left pec like some neanderthal, which gets him kinda feral, and he just hauls you over his shoulder, because finally, he's the caveman of the relationship.

Ryomen Sukuna bulk that's a little less than Toji 's, but it's hard, trained muscle. It takes some gnawing to actually get some skin between your teeth. Also. This man has a nipple kink. Especially when it comes to you sucking his. ARGUE WITH THE WALL, HE LOVES THAT SHIT OKAY. He loves those pink nubs so much, he'll get them pierced and wear pretty diamond studs and he'll go batshit crazy the moment you make a crass comment about it.

And now to my favourite man, Nanami Kento. This man is shy. This man doesn't know what effect he can have on those people the moment he takes his shirt off. But, thankfully, he doesn't need to do that for anyone else but you, and, you bet your ass he knows exactly what happens to you once he strips. You get all siren-eyed and lick your tongue like he's a one pound cake you wanna devour in one go. And he loves it. Loves that you go into feral cat mode whenever you see him half-naked. And if your nails scrape along them during y'all's marathons? He's going to be showing off at the gym, 100% (tho that can be said about all these men.)

[theyluvpeach]

just a taste.

dealer!reader x client!chris blurb. he can't take it anymore.

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ: switch chris. switch reader. big dick chris. (🤸‍♂️🤸‍♂️) fingering, unprotected p in v. (#wrapthat) riding. use of ma. possessive chris. creampie... thas abt it :)

Chris finds Matt annoying ninety percent of the time, but times like this? Oh, he could kiss the ground he walks on.

He can't sleep. Again. And he can't talk to you, he still hasn't figured what that werid feeling in his chest is.

When Matt gave him that joint, he smoked it and napped hard. Expected, but wasn't expected was him waking up and feeling the bass of a speaker in his chest. He forgot all about the party tonight. He's been so busy with actually going to his classes, homework, and avoiding you.

It's been weeks since you guys last talked, and he knows you're going to be here tonight—There's no way you're not. Matt begged the president of their frat to do this theme for you.

He's still a little high, which is amazing. If he wasn't, he'd probably be freaking out. He groans, feeling the music get louder every second. He's not in the mood tonight, to be ogled by girls, to have to take disgusting shots, to see the neon clothes everyone is going to be wearing.

He doesn't even have clothes that even fall close to fitting the theme—But, whatever. He can't go back to sleep when all he can hear is people screaming.

Chris is fucking wasted. He didn't mean to drink this much. Honestly. Beers just kept finding their way into his hand. Especially when his eyes finally laid on you, cuddling up all pretty on the couch with Matt and his friends, giggling at the stupid, unfunny jokes they make.

Tonight's outfit beats all of your other ones by far. Most people just came in neon but you, oh you put thought into yours. The rollers in your hair, the plain white tank that brings attention to your tiny light pink shorts, god, don't get him started on your makeup. You look like someone just dragged you out of the house in the middle of getting ready, but in a good way. Because you always look good. Because you're fucking perfect.

You shouldn't be next to Matt or his terrible friends. You should next to him. With him. But he can't just drag you off to his room— "Hi."

He jumps out of his skin. You scared the shit out of him. You tilt your head at him again, annoyingly, and give him that shit eating grin. "You were staring." He was. He'll admit it. He takes a swig of his beer and locks eyes with you. Oh, you're high as hell. He doesn't think he's ever seen someone get eyes as red as yours.

"Didn't know you were so close with all of them." He nods his head towards the couch, you giggle. "Most of my clients all come from Matt. He keeps my rent paid." Chris would've laughed at that if that didn't mean that you were meeting up with these guys on the regular.

"You're too pretty, too gorgeous to have to deal with talking to those assholes." Is what he wants to say, but since he doesn't wanna deal with the repercussions of that, he just stares at you and watches you squirm.

He smirks. "Do... do you like my outfit?" You mumble out, giving him a spin and a perfect view of your ass hanging out your shorts.

"Mhm." He nods. "Look perfect, baby."

"Thanks." He watches you mess with hem of your cropped shirt. It's addicting to watch you squirm under his gaze. The way you shift from foot to foot, slightly bit at your lip, and refuse to meet his eyes....he can't take this anymore.

He takes one last sip of his beer and places the empty can on the counter. "Kid."

You press your thighs together and play with a lose strand of your pinned up hair, "Huh?"

"Squirming n shit..." He mumbles, "Just say you want me to fuck you."

"Wha...?" The way your eyes widen is cute. He wonders if you'll make the same face when his dick enters you. "Heard me. Look at you right now, squirming and pressing your thighs together. You can say it's okay."

"Chri- chris -" The stutters cute too. He cups your face in his hands. He's glad the music is as loud as it is so he can get away with this. "C'mon. You got it. Say it."

"Want you...wan' you to fuck me." His smirk widens. "Finally got it out. Good girl."

You taste heavenly, like peaches and weed. Godsent compared to the beer he drank. The way you wrap your arms around his neck and grab at his shirt, you're perfect. Just perfect.

He throws you onto his bed, his knees pinning you under him. You gulp. "Don't be scared. You were beggin' for this." He says against your lips, pushing your shirt up, you gasp into the kiss. He takes that as an invitation to slip his tongue into your mouth.

"Mhn— Chris—" You whine. He pulls back, a string of saliva trailing between you two. "Needy already, princess?"

You nod slowly, embarrassed. He laughs. "Baby, don't be embarrassed... gonna take real good care of you." He says, tugging at your shorts. "Lift up for me, ma.. there ya go." He throws your shorts to the floor. "Pretty," He spreads your legs and presses a kiss to your clothed nub, making you squirm. "So pretty." He moves to your inner thighs, pressing wet kisses there.

"Chris— Chris, please—" You whine, your legs threatening to close. "That needy? Not gonna even let me have my fun?" He coos, preventing your legs from closing. Slipping your panties down.

"Please— Please— Need—" He nudges one finger at your entrance and you gasp, "Need me to make you feel good, I know, mama, I know."

You moan when his finger actually enters you, he groans. "So tight. Been a while, huh?"

"Y-yeah—oh!" You throw your head back when a second finger enters you. "Chriiiis—" You drag out. "G-god! Ohmy—" He makes scissor motions, making you let out even more moans. When he adds a third finger, is when you almost lose it. "Chrischrischris—"

"Yeah? Gonna cum?"

"M— m gonna cum—!"

"Cum all over my fingers, baby." You let out a moan loud enough for the entire party to hear as you cum.

"Good girl." He praises, pulling his fingers out slowly and licking up your jucies. "So sweet."

You pant softly, staring down at him. "Kiss."

"I just—"

"Kiss, please." You whine. Pulling him into a kiss by his hair. It's messy and breathless. He's surprised you don't care that you're tasting yourself. "Thanks."

You're adorable. Saying thanks to him kissing you after he just made you fall apart on his fingers. "Ya good?" Most of the rollers that were in your hair fell out. "Mhm." You nod.

"Words."

"M good." His eyes can't help but trail down your body. "Still want me to fuck you?"

"Think I let you lead me all the way to your room just for you to not fuck me?" He laughs. "Jus' making sure you're not tapping out." You pull him into another kiss, giggling against his lips. It's so....intimate. His other hookups aren't like this, but he doesn't mind. The way your hands slip into his hair and scratch at his scalp is something he never wants to forget until you start tugging on his hair and he starts moaning. He knew he was into it he just didn't think it was moaning worthy.

It's embarrassing.

"Kid—" He starts, getting interrupted by his own moans. You tug harder, and he lets out a whimper he hopes you don't catch. "What the hell are you doin'—?"

"You like this."

"No."

"You whimpered." Fuck.

"No, I didn't—"

You tug harder than the last, and his eyes roll back with a groan. "Hot."

He glares at you. "You're moaning because I'm pulling your hair, that's h—" He swiftly covers your mouth. "Shut the fuck up." He can feel you smile against his palm. "Gonna ride you."

He blinks at you. "You don't want me to fuck you?"

"Changed my mind. Flip over." He does, and Jesus fucking Christ you're a sight on top of him. He tugs at your top, "Want this off." You tilt your head at him, "Beg." Is probably the most insane thing a girl has ever said to him, "I don't beg, kid." You raise an eyebrow at him. "Okay."

You don't take off your top. His eyebrows furrow. "Off." He repeats. "Beg."

He rolls his eyes. "I don't fuckin' beg." You huff. "Then it's not coming off." The glint in your eyes leads him to biting his lip to seal the words in his mouth. He just wants to see the bra you're wearing, wants to see your chest jiggle as you ride him. You cup his face with one hand and undo his pants with the other. "Say please, and I'll take it off."

"What?" You roll your eyes this time. "Chris, you were very obviously staring at my boobs and at this point, I don't even know if you want to fuck me anymore." Your smile is gone and replaced with a serious expression. He swallows, hard. He hates how you make him feel.

"Please."

You smirk. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" You pull off your top, saying please was worth it. Every part of you is gorgeous.

He groans when your hand finds its way into his boxers, pumping him. He didn't realize how hard he was until now. "D-dont— ah. Tease." He pants out, you spit into your hand and coat his length with it. "Just making sure you don't split me in half."

When you finally sink down on him, he almost screams. "Shit—" You let out a pained gasp, you're hunched over him, letting out soft pants. "Mh....m fine. You're just....give me a second." You don't tell him when you adjust to him. The only notion he gets is you slamming down your hips. "Holy shit!" His hands immediately fly to your hips, eyes fluttering open.

He bucks into you, chasing more of the toe curling pleasure you're giving him. He can't help it. The way you wrap around him is unreal. The way you're looking down at him isn't helping either, gaging his face for his pleasure filled reactions. It's all too much for him.

"Don't tell me you're already about to cum, Chris." You feel him twitching inside you. "Then stop fuckin'—" His eyes roll back as you slam down on him again. "Fuck you." He chokes out.

You giggle, leaning down to kiss at his neck. He lets out a sinful moan when you sink your teeth into him. "Chris." You attempt to slow your pace, but Chris doesn't let you. "Mh...not gonna cum before you. Keep goin'." He guides your hips as he thrusts up into your sweet spot, causing you to hide your face in his neck. "There ya go, kid— Yeah, let's drop that attitude—" He rolls his hips foward to hit that spot again and again. He groans, feeling your walls fluttering around him uncontrollably.

"Chri—chris—" You moan into his ear. "Iknow—" He slurs. "Feel so good, ma—" The noises you're making right now are the prettiest things he's ever heard. If only if he could see your face.

"Gonna let me— fucccck— cum inside?" He pants, you nod eagerly into his neck. "Ple- please— Can't— mso!" You let out one more loud moan before clenching around his cock, he lets out a whimper before he finally comes inside you.

His flutter shut until he feels you nibbling at his neck. "Mhn...?" You sit up and kiss him, pouring the last of your energy into it.

He pulls away. "Gonna crash here?"

"Maybe."

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife @nateismybf