#like hard to believe i was that young then

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

I'll let you in on something as an ex christian and a child of religious leaders:

Canon Jesus as I've heard him be called here (genius btw) is kinder, more accepting and would fight for a lot of shit so called "Christian" nationalists would hate.

These bastards screaming Leviticus at gay and trans people have forgotten in the same book they're supposed to fucking love your god-damned foreigners and treat them like natives (not how we treated our actual Native Americans). Actual Jesus would beat a majority of these so called Christians out of the churches dedicated to him. Also...divorce is not allowed. I'm looking at the multiple divorced awful people who don't think they're the problem but turn on young kids and/or minorities. I'm staring hard at a so-called president and the trust fund baby he works for.

Fucking rape culture would piss that little Messiah off so much. He told your creep asses to scoop out your own eye if you have dirty thoughts because of how someone looked. How dare you blame a person for being attractive. You can control yourself fine! You're just refusing to.

Jesus hung out with prostitutes and gay people! For fucks sake and yet the people wearing his symbol will call for the annihilation of 13 year old little Billy because he found out he likes boys and girls!

You don't think your god sees it all?! I know what I read before. I remember what I was taught before. Atheists and non Christian religions or just leftist people in general are more prone to kindness and acceptance because they just choose to be good.

Am I saying they're gods people? No. Am I saying they're more godly than those who preach the Bibles words in hatred.

Literature wise? YES.

I'm not going to go here and say your god hates you. Cause I can't make that fucking call. I'm in no place. But God damn you have twisted words of forgiveness and love into something horrible.

You can't blame Satan for this. You can't claim the devil made you like this. This is the culture of hatred. Of unwilling and disgusting people in power taking a religion and making it a fucking cesspool. You can only blame your fucking selves.

And to those Christians who see the truth, who do not vibe with all that awful shit done in your god's name, I can only empathize with you. Just keep being you. Be accepting. Be loving. Worship in your own way.

I did long ago when I believed and I had such beautiful friendships and was a safe haven for many. That is how you're supposed to be.

[coochiequeens]

It's never too late to fill in the gaps in your education

By  NIRANJAN SHRESTHA 10:34 PM EST, February 13, 2025

KATHMANDU, Nepal (AP) — Sushila Gautam, 77, checks her smartwatch, a gift from her son living in the United States, to see if she should leave for her reading and writing lessons.

“At home, I get bored when my son and daughter-in-law go to work and grandchildren are at school. I want something to do,” she says with a smile.

When Sushila was young, girls in her village weren’t sent to school.

Sushila Gautam, 77 laughs as she becomes nervous before writing her name on the board during a writing practice in a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Elderly women attend a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Kamala K.C, 66, writes on a note book during a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

For about a year now, she has been going for free lessons near her home on the outskirts of Nepal’s capital Kathmandu, at the Ujyalo Community Learning Center. The center was set up three years ago by the local council to provide basic education to women like her.

“Now, I finally have the chance,” says Sushila.

She can now read signs in English and Nepalese, is able to check her heart rate on a smartwatch, and use a smartphone. But the skill she is most proud of is her ability to sign her name on official documents. Previously, she had to put thumbprints.

A woman writes her name on a note book provided by her teacher before the start of a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Bimala Maharjan Bhandari, who runs the center, says she had difficulties at first to convince women to join.

“I had to tell them that being able to read phone messages, product labels and signing documents can benefit the whole family,” Bhandari said.

Women attend a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

An elderly woman Sushila Gautam, 77, attends a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Women attend a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Women sit at desks reading aloud from their Nepali language textbooks, following their instructor. Some write down simple sentences in their notebooks. During a break, they file out of the classroom to play soccer on a small hard court.

Bhandari believes that the center encourages friendship and physical well-being among the learners, creating a supportive environment for personal and collective growth.

Women play football during a break at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Chandra Kumari Ghimire, 71 plays during a break at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Among the older students is 88-year-old Thuli Thapa Magar, who has spent her entire life as a homemaker. She, like Sushila, never went to school and was illiterate before joining the center.

She is proud of the fact that she is finally learning.

88-year-old Thuli Thapa Magar, left and other women leave after attending a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

An elderly woman reads a text book before the start of her class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

An elderly woman student worships a picture of Saraswati, Hindu goddess of wisdom and education before the start of a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Women write their names on the board during a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

An elderly woman attends a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Elderly women attend a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

A woman drinks water during a break from her class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

An elderly woman student offers a pen and money as a gift during Saraswati puja, worshiping day of Goddess Saraswati for wisdom and knowledge, celebration at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

A man watches as women play football during a break at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Kanchi Lama, 78, participates in a class at the Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

Thuli Thapa Magar, 88 left and Kanchi Thapa Magar, 70 wave as they leave Ujyalo Community learning center in Kathmandu, Nepal, Feb. 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

[yandere-wishes]

Gotham's sweetheart

Warning: yandere older brother Bruce Wayne. I tried writing incest but I feel like it came out more yandere platonic😅😅

-`♡´-Okay, imagine being Bruce Wayne's younger sister. We're talking newborn when your parents died (assuming Bruce is early 30s in this story Reader would be in her early 20s) you're your brother's total opposite, at least on the outside. His innocent bright-eyed kid sister...

-`♡´-That one too many rogues may have a little crush on.

-`♡´-Really it's the innocence. The thing they want to peel away.

-`♡´- That sweet honeydew smile, those big optimistic eyes. That cheery lilt of your voice. It drives them crazy, makes them want to tear you apart. Makes them want to keep that smile all to themselves.

-`♡´- Tommy/Hush has ideas: he dreams of all the horrendous things he wants to do to you while wearing your brother's face. He's had his eye on you since they were young. However there's a part of him that wants to kiss you with his own lips, hold you, and nozzle his face into your neck. To have you play with his hair. To look at him with bright terrified eyes before he kisses you until your lungs exhaust. He wants you to say you love him, to make him feel whole again.

-`♡´- Harvey/Two-face fully believes he owns you: It's not just the darker part of his mind whispering temptations. He's always believed that you were destined for him, always knew he'd be the one to put a ring on your finger and keep you safe. He's sure Bruce himself would have offered you to him before the incident and why should things change now? They're literally your brother's best friend. You belong to the two of them. Their precious princess to cherish and break. They'd both give anything to hear you say their name just once more. With love lacing each letter as your lips grace both sides of his face.

-`♡´- Roman just wants to claim you. Sink his teeth into you and mark you as his. To smear the good Wayne name by making you his little pet. Parading you around public in the most revealing tight outfits, to kiss you while all of Gotham watches. But despite Roman's rather wicked intentions, he still longs to hold you close, you feel the warmth of your body under his. Give anything to kiss you, and tell you he loves you.

-`♡´- The rest of the rogues only know you as Batgirl/(insert other hero name) and all have such a desperate obsession with you. It's hard not to fall in love when you're lying bleeding on the concrete with a broken arm. Only to be cradled in a soft lap promising to get you the best psychiatric help.

-`♡´- Plus you're so utterly kind to them, kinder than Batman and while you are so strong in your own right so many of them would pull out their own hearts and lay it upon your feet for a chance to lock you away and protect you from the evil world. All of them are so desperate for a little kiss from you.

-`♡´- {One day when you're helping your brother drop off Dr Crane at the Asylum you notice how utterly terrified he looks. How his eyes hover on a particular guard with fear glossing over them. Later while Batman talks to Commissioner Gorden, you ask Jonathan what's wrong and reluctantly he mentions how a certain guard (Lyle Bolton) has been abusing the inmates. Your heart shatters for them, you've practically grown up with these crazies (affectionate) you can't bear the thought of anyone hurting them (ironic ain't it) or well at the very least abusing them when they're behaving. You give Jonathan a peck on the cheek and promise to take care of it. And you do, you keep your promise and that Bolton is never seen again. Jonathan is thankful truly utterly he however has to watch his back now because Riddler and Dr.Phosphorus have been giving him death glares all day)

-`♡´- BUT (and hear me out on this) while you might think the streets of Gotham are all so dangerous. Back home isn't any better. Your own brother is too weak to fight the rotting possessiveness that festers within his loins. His tight grip on your shoulder, the way his hugs last eternities. He loves you with all his blackened heart. You're the only good thing in his life.

-`♡´- Oh and while we're at it why don't we mention his friends too? The superpowered heroes who think you're the most adorable thing. Who want nothing more than to protect you and feel you between their arms. What about your adopted family who are growing more possessive and clingy by the day? Oh darling it looks like you truly are doomed, to wither away in obsessive love.

Listen this whole ramble came from me being bored in class and daydreaming about wanting to take Twoface, Black Mask, Hush, and Dr Phosphorus on all at the same time. But also having such a weird crush on Bruce Wayne and wanting to subject him to unfathomable tortures (affectionately)

[keraawrites]

Because I'm pretty

Summary: College UA, Frat boy Bakugo loved them curvy; he also loved them bratty, and you were as bratty as they come. ۶ৎ Bakugo x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Belly button piercing, tattoo, use of pet names (daddy, mama, baby), Oral (female receiving), underage drinking, weed, rough sex, use of the word Nigga, bratty reader, mean Bakugo, unprotected sex *Meg thee stallion reference*

Word count: 6.4k

What would you say if everyone complimented you from a young age? Told you you were good at everything? You would sure as hell have an ego as big as Bakugo’s. Everyone knew him on campus; he was smart, star athlete and every girl's wet dream. In a nutshell, he had everything he wanted.

Yet, he was bored when he started college. Bored of what? He didn’t know, all he knew was that something in his life had to change and it needed to happen soon.

He remembered when he got his first taste of that change, it was a girl that flirted with him at his first frat party. She was a pretty petite black girl who had curves to die for and he knew from then on he would have a large appreciation for thick girls.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved every type of woman but black girls had a special place in his heart. Or maybe it was just you.

He would never forget the first time he met you, you were a transfer that made her way up the social ladder fast. Became cheer co captain in two months, became a sister for the biggest sorority on campus but what really caught his eye was the way you curved everyone, especially him.

He would have given up if it was anyone else but you were to die for and he would die before giving up. His mind came back to the screams of everyone around him, the cheers of the cheer squad and the celebration coming from his teammates as he just won a championship game, but his eyes locked on you, in your short uniform skirt and cropped top that showed him enough to get the glimpse of your belly button piercing.

He watched your hips sway as you finished the final cheer for the game.

“Bakugoooo, I can’t believe you made that throw— actually I can.” The blonde tsk’d as he watched his friends celebrate in front of him, his mind still on you but his eyes couldn’t find you again.

“Whatever shitty hair.”

“Not whatever man, scouts are gonna go hard the next game. Now come on, we got a party to throw.”

You smiled at the girls who waved hi to you as you walked out of of the locker room, you were out of breath from the cheer you had just done for the winning game.

Your school ‘The Falcons’ took home the championship cup and you and the rest of your squad gave a performance of a lifetime and you were tiredddd.

Your bag, slung over your shoulder with your uniform and some school books packed away. You had quickly thrown on a pair of gym shorts that were snug against your ass and your matching sports bra that sported your school colours were much more breathable because lets be real, your ass was bigger than your boobs.

Your brain was racking with the thoughts of the day, your fresh set pressing against the keys on your phone. Mina (your sorority sister) was telling you about the party that the football team would be throwing tonight.

You rolled your eyes at the thought process, they had already been planning this party way before the finals— apparently knowing they would win. But you had to give it to them, they did win and you knew the party would be epic.

As your fingers continued to tap away on your iPhone, you failed to realise you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. A couple cuss words flew from your lips when your body slammed into a hard exterior, your eyes raking up the large body that stood in your way.

“Tch. ‘Bout time you noticed, brat.”

Your stomach did that annoying flip it always did around him, but you ignored it, lifting your gaze to meet sharp, almost crimson-like eyes. Katsuki Bakugo stood there, arms crossed over his broad chest, his usual scowl in place. His dirty blond hair was still damp from the game, sticking up in chaotic spikes, and his sleeveless compression shirt clung to his frame, showing off every defined muscle.

You arched a brow. “Noticed what?”

His eyes scanned you like he was sizing you up, a stupid grin on his face. “You normally pay attention, yet here you are-- head in your phone not noticing shit. You’re lucky it was me and not some extra tryna get your attention.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting your weight onto one leg as you crossed your arms. “But to me, you are just an extra Bakugo." You teased, your lips pulling into a smirk as you noticed the twitch in his eye.

His scowl deepened, but there was something else there too—something smug, something that you were all too used to.

“Tch. Fucking brat.”

“Only for you,” You shot back, voice dripping with mock sweetness.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening for half a second before he smirked. The expression was sharp, full of challenge. “Yeah, I know.”

You hated that he was right. Hated it even more that he knew it.

This was something you were all too used to with Bakugo, you remember when you first transferred here a year ago.

You quickly made friends with the right people, and joining the biggest sorority on campus also added to your popularity and with popularity came a whole lot of attention from guys, especially the quarterback of your college's football team.

You heard the rumours about him, he had made his way through a lot of girls and his taste quickly changed a couple months before you came to campus from tall leggy blondes to short curvy black girls.

He was a God and he knew it too, but you weren't gonna make it easy on the guy by falling at his feet like the other girls. So here came the back and forth game between the two of you.

“So,” he started, stepping closer, his presence almost suffocating, "You're coming to my party tonight."

You scoffed. “Not even gonna ask?”

“Don’t ask people shit,” he muttered, voice low, eyes locked onto yours. “And I already know you’re gonna show up.”

You let out a dry laugh, shifting like you were about to walk away. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I’m busy.”

He tsked, eyes narrowing. “Quit playin’. You like pissing me off too much to not show up.”

The grin on your lips was blinding. You stepped past him, letting your fingers barely graze his arm as you walked away. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see, huh?”

His chuckle was low, rough, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine.

Summer Walker softly played through your speaker, the scent of vanilla body butter and cocoa-shea lotion mixing with a hint of perfume in the air. Clothes were scattered across the bed, a sign of the usual struggle of finding the outfit, but Mina sat comfortably in the middle of it all, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like she had all the time in the world.

“Girl, if you don’t stop overthinking and just put on the outfit I picked, I swear to God,” Mina groaned, glancing up to see you standing in front of the mirror, hands on your hips, eyes scanning your reflection with a critical gaze.

You smirked, turning slightly. “And why should I let you pick my outfit Mina? Because it’s Bakugo’s party?”

Mina’s grin was instant, eyes lighting up with mischief. “Who said anything about him? I’m just making sure you look good. Which, babe, you already do, but I have vision.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Mina had always had an eye for styling, and you weren’t above letting your best friend work her magic.

Mina was as stylish as they came; her hairstyle was always different, but the colour always stayed the same. The girl sported pink like it was made for her. “Alright, fine. Show me what you’ve got.”

The pink-haired girl perked up instantly, reaching over to the bed and holding up her carefully chosen pieces. “Here, don’t ask just do.”

You looked down the clothes, surprised as you expected something more skimpy. “Jeans and a top?”

Mina scoffed, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically. “Not just jeans and a top. You need something that says, I didn’t try too hard, but also, I look so good you’ll be thinking about me all night.”

You eyed the clothes, then sighed and grabbed them, slipping into the outfit. The low-waisted, distressed jeans hugged your curves perfectly, emphasising the dip of your waist, while the brown backless top fit like a second skin. The neckline was low enough to tease but the bare of the back showed off the tattoo you had just above your ass and the sheer fabric gave subtle glimpses of your toned stomach under the right lighting.

Mina clapped her hands. “See? This is what I was talking about. Casual but lethal.”

You turned to the mirror, smoothing a hand down your waist. The dark fabric contrasted beautifully against your melenated skin, making your golden undertones glow effortlessly. You had to admit—Mina knew what she was doing.

“Alright,” You said, feigning indifference. “It’s decent.”

Mina gasped. “Decent? Girl, please. You look so good it’s actually rude.”

You giggled but didn’t deny it. The two of you began to sing along to the low tune of ‘Heart of a woman’ as you both finished up your hair and makeup. You had fresh bundles sewn in your hair and it fell bone straight down you back, it layered as it framed your face nicely.

A warm-toned highlighter dusted over your cheekbones, collarbones, and the bridge of her nose, giving you a sun-kissed glow. A soft brown lip liner, blended into a sheer, brown lip gloss, made your full lips pop effortlessly.

Mina looked you over as she finished getting ready. A smirk on her lips as she sized you up. “Girl if I wasn’t a mess for Ejiro’s dick I would be all up on you.” You kissed your teeth at Mina's antics but blew her a kiss as the two of you left your sorority house.

The moment you stepped into the fraternity house, the atmosphere hit them like a wave—warm, electric, and pulsing with the bass of a Kendrick Lamar song shaking the walls. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, faint traces of cologne and perfume mixing together, and the occasional hint of weed drifting through the crowded space. The lights were dim, neon glows from LED strips casting everything in a hazy glow.

You and Mina navigated through the throng of bodies, brushing past sweaty football players, overexcited freshmen, and girls who stepped out with barely anything on, all vying for attention. You could feel the moment eyes zeroed in on your back, your hips had an extra sway to them.

“Two shots, babe,” Mina declared, dragging you toward the kitchen. The counter was already lined with bottles of tequila, vodka, and an assortment of mixers, and a few guys stood nearby, eyeing them with interest. Denki and Sero were already high or tipsy as they both grinned at you two.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Denki teased, nudging Sero. “Damn, y’all took your time.”

Mina rolled her eyes, pouring two shots with practiced ease. “Perfection takes time, boys.”

Sero whistled, eyeing her up and down before throwing an arm around Kirishima, who had just joined them. “Yeah, well, Kiri over here doesn’t mind waiting, does he?”

Kirishima chuckled, slipping an arm around Mina’s waist and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Nope. Worth it every time.”

Mina beamed, shooting him a playful look before tossing back her shot. You followed suit, the burn of the alcohol settling in your chest.

You could feel Denki's eyes burning on your lower back, you turned towards him, head tilted as your eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Yes Denks, how can I help you?"

"When are you gonna let me take you out pretty?" You giggled at his outburst, he tripped over his own feet, trying to style it out as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

Across the room, Bakugo sat on the worn leather couch, drink in hand, scowling at nothing in particular. The party was loud, annoying, and full of people he barely tolerated, but it was for his team, so he had to be here.

His boys had left to do shots not too long ago, but Kirishima made his way back over with his girl on his arm. His eyes scanned the room lazily until something—or rather, someone—caught his attention.

His eyes zeroed in on you, you wore some low-rise jeans that clung to your ass nicely, he couldn't make out the top but he could see how it also clung to you like a second skin, the way you moved—fuck.

His grip tightened around his cup as he watched you spark a blunt. He eyed the way you moved slightly to the music like it was second nature to you, the glow of your skin under the dim lighting making something in his chest tighten. Then came the moment that really set him off—you giggled at something that dunce face was saying and he swore he felt his blood pressure spike.

“Tch,” he scoffed, leaning back. “Fucking hell.”

Kirishima, sitting beside him with Mina tucked under his arm, followed his gaze and grinned. “Ohhh. You got it bad, bro.”

Bakugo’s scowl deepened. “Shut the hell up shitty hair.” He downed the rest of his drink before making his way into the kitchen.

Your eyes sparkled as you looked over Denki's shoulder, turning your attention back to the electric blonde in front of you. “Looking like a damn dream tonight. Who’d you get all dressed up for, sweetheart?”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Denki chuckled, giving you back the blunt after he took a draw without breaking eye contact. “Maybe you should give a guy a hint. I’m great at keeping secrets.”

Before you could respond, a sharp presence entered the kitchen—Bakugo, his expression thunderous as his eyes locked onto Denki.

“The hell do you think you’re doin’, Dunce Face?” Bakugo growled, stepping between the two of you.

The spiky haired blonde held up his hands in mock surrender, chuckling. “Relax, man. Just being friendly.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes, and though Denki was grinning, he got the message loud and clear. With a wink at you, he backed off, moving to find someone else to charm.

With Denki gone, you turned your attention to Bakugo, tilting your head. “What was that about?”

The blonde scoffed, crossing his arms. “Tch. Like I’m lettin’ some dumbass flirt with you.”

You pouted playfully. “Aw, jealous?”

His eyes darkened, jaw tightening. “Watch it.”

You licked your lips, grinning when you noticed how quickly his eyes darted towards them. “Watch what? I didn’t do anything.”

He stepped closer, “You keep runnin’ that mouth mama...”

You batted your lashes, pulling one more drag from the blunt that lay between your fingers, you stood on your tiptoes and blew the excess smoke into his face. "There's so much I can do with my mouth."

He short-circuited; he never in his life thought a girl could leave him tongue-tied, but here you were. All he wanted to do was get his hands on you but he stalled, you were already off on the dance floor as some song by sexy red blared through the speakers.

He watched as Mina began hyping you up on the dance floor, his eyes glued to your ass as you began to twerk against the girl. He felt the way his jeans tightened, the telltale sign of his hard-on pressed right against his crotch. He growled as he watched some lowlife try to get between the two of you. he didn't even realise he pushed the extra away until he was on you, a rough hand gripping your waist and yanking you against him. His breath was hot against your ear.

"I'm done with this, take your ass upstairs before I drag you there myself," You felt your stomach flip, smirking lightly as you faced the your friend—his dick pressing up against your ass. You rolled your neck to the side, feeling his hot breath against you; you knew your panties were a mess.

You could say no, you knew you could. But why would you? You had been playin' this boy for damn near a year and you were finally ready to give in.

You didn't say a word to him, but you winked at Mina before strutting your way upstairs. Bakugo didn't hesitate to follow behind you, leaving all but 10 seconds between your departure. He seemed to be annoyed by the pace in your steps because you soon felt his palm on your bare back, his thumb gliding along the base of your butterfly tattoo as he guided you to his room.

He barely acknowledged the few people loitering in the hallway as he pushed open his door and yanked you inside. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind you, the muffled bass of the party now nothing but a dull thrum against the walls.

Your back hit the wood before you could take another breath. You looked up at the blonde, his hands planted on either side of your head, caging you in as his scent—smoky caramel and the lingering spice of his cologne—wrapped around you, drowning you. His breath was hot against your cheek, his chest rising and falling with the force of his restraint.

Your eyes scan his room, you didn't expect for his room to be this organised but it was. You didn't have enough time to admire it as you felt his hand grip the sides of your face, forcing you attention back on him.

"You done with that shit now?" His voice was dark as it hung in the air; you looked up at him through your lashes, your bottom lip rolling between your teeth.

"That depends. What's in it for me?" You barely got out the words before your hands and face were pressed against the food , the blonde kicked your feet apart. "Hey--" Your ass stung from the palm coming down hard on your ass, your breathing array as your stomach tightened.

"All the games you've played with me over the year, it's only fair we play one final one here, don't you think?" You moaned slightly as you felt his finger graze the wings of your tattoo; his touch was much softer than earlier. You heard him shift behind you, his knees hitting the floor beneath him.

He mumble a quiet 'fuck' before his lips grazed your skin. Your eyes rolled back softly as his lips softly worked against your back, you could hear him mumble quiet praises mixed in with curses which caused your pussy to flutter in your jeans.

"You walk around here acting like you own the place, teasing me, acting fucking bratty..."

Your moans grew louder; he was standing behind you now-- his hands around your stomach as his fingers grazed the waistline of your jeans. He hadn't even done anything yet you were a fucking mess.

"If I were to put my hands down your jeans, how wet would you be?" Your head rolled to the side, his nose buried in your neck as he inhaled the strong scent of coco butter that seemed to be mixed in with your YSL perfume.

"Yo-your ego is too big. Who says even if I am wet, it'd be because of you?" You knew you were playing with fire; the blonde was like a dynamite waiting to implode and you just loved playing with matches.

You felt his hand around your throat before you could blink, he squeezed enough to send you a warning but not hard enough to completely cut off your airways.

"So not only are you a brat, but you're a slut too." You would normally flip out on a nigga if he called you out of your name but not him. Katsuki Bakugo was the perfect exception.

You moaned; you don't know whether it was from his words or his touch. The way his fingers glided along your skin, the way your boobs fit perfectly in his hand, it was all perfect.

Your head rolled to the side, his mouth sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck as he played with your nipples.

You pulled away from him, turning to face him. His brows raised as he watched you—waiting for your next move. Smirking, you pushed past the angry blonde, making your way towards his bed. You put an extra sway in her hips, moving slowly as you could hear the slight bass of the music downstairs.

The music was nothing more than a dull thump, barely noticeable under the thick, charged silence of Bakugo’s dimly lit bedroom. The only glow in the space came from the red LED lights tracing the ceiling, casting everything in a deep, sultry haze. It made the shadows darker, the air heavier.

But the only thing Bakugo was focused on was you.

You stood in the middle of his room, body humming with liquid confidence.

He sat back in his desk chair, legs spread wide, jeans stretched over thick thighs, his dark shirt tight across his chest. His elbows rested lazily on his knees, but his grip was tense—like he was holding himself back. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, his eyes burning with something raw, something dangerous.

But he didn’t move.

Not yet; he'll let you have your fun.

The heavy beat from the speaker wrapped around you, slow, seductive, built for movement. Built for control.

And right now? You were in control.

You started to sway, rolling your hips to the rhythm, slow and deliberate. The brown backless top you wore clung to every curve, the soft fabric pressing against your skin like a second layer. The deep colour only made the warmth of your brown skin stand out more, glowing under the red light, catching Bakugo’s attention like a damn magnet.

His fingers twitched.

He bit his lip as he watched you twirl softly, getting a glimpse of the tattoo on your lower back every time you moved. He remembers when he first noticed it, you were at cheer practice, wearing these tiny ass little shorts that hugged your ass nicely and when you bent over into a stretch, the sun hit the tattoo like a fucking halo. Funny, for something so fucking sinful.

He thought he'd cum in his pants when he first saw it. His gaze often tried to find it whenever he could; he watched when you turned away, the sharp edge of his jaw tightening like he was clenching his teeth.

You turned, giving him your back, letting your hands trail down your waist, slow and teasing, fingertips brushing over the tiny, silver belly button piercing that gleamed under the red light.

You dipped low, rolling your hips in time with the music, and you swore you heard his breath hitch.

A slow smirk curled on your lips.

Still swaying to the soft beat, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your jeans and began to peel them down, inch by agonising inch. The soft denim clung to your curves, sliding lower over your hips, over your thighs, until it finally pooled at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your brown top and the black lace thong hugging your body just right.

His breath came out harsh, like a punch to the chest.

His gaze dropped.

And then, it stayed there.

On your thighs.

Thick, smooth, gleaming under the red light, your skin's deep warmth making his mouth dry. The contrast of the black lace against your skin made something in his gut tighten, something feral clawing up his spine.

Fuck, he could see everything. The soft dip where your thighs met your hips, the plush, toned shape of them, the way they pressed together just enough to make his fingers twitch.

He wanted them— he wanted his face buried between them, feeling them shake as you came apart. Fuck he was going to make it happen.

The muscle in his jaw ticked. His fingers curled into tight fists, his whole body felt tight, like a wire pulled too thin, like a matchstick ready to ignite.

And you? You knew exactly what you were doing.

Stepping out of your jeans, you turned, trailing your fingers along your own waist, your hands palmed your ass but not for long because they were already buried deep in your hair as you continued dancing for him.

Then, because you were a fucking brat, you dragged your hands up the sides of your body, arching your back slightly, letting him take in every curve, every dip.

He didn't even give you a moment to breathe because he was on you.

There was nothing soft about the kiss. Nothing hesitant. This was raw, heated, unrestrained.

Bakugo kissed you like he wanted to consume you.

His lips were hungry, moving against yours in a way that left no doubt. One of his hands tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss as his other hand gripped the small of your back, keeping you flush against him.

You moaned into his mouth, and that only made him rougher.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, sharp and teasing, his tongue demanding, coaxing you open, stealing every breath, every sound. It was desperate, wild.

And fuck—you loved it.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his dark shirt as your body pressed against his, rolling against him, taunting him, teasing him. The way his grip tightened, the way his breath hitched—he felt everything, and it was driving him insane.

His hands were rough as they roamed, trailing up your sides, his thumbs brushing the edge of your top, teasing the sliver of skin beneath.

Fuck.

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting, both of you so close, so desperate. His cyes were wild, wide with want, with possession.

"Take off your top, lay on the bed with your legs pushed up to your chest."

You blinked as you still tried to catch your breath, "What?" A cry left your lips and the blonde pinched your covered nipple, his eyes still dark as they watched you.

"Did I stutter? Get on the bed, legs to your chest, now."

You didn't hesitate this time, quickly getting rid of your top you followed suit to the bed, laying down in the centre you pulled your legs up to your chest, your nails resting on the back of your knees.

You heard him mumble something but the race of your heart got in the way. All your liquid courage had gone out the window. You were getting what you wanted but you couldn't ignore the feeling in your stomach, scared or excited at what he might do? You didn't care anymore.

He kneeled by the edge of the bed, pulling you closer to him, but your legs stayed where they were. His lips began kissing the inside of your thighs, ignoring the one place you wanted him most. Your pants and whimpers grew louder, and you swore you heard the bastard chuckle.

"Katsuki..." You yelped once you felt a bite on your thigh, you knew tomorrow there would be the indentations of his teeth against your brown skin causing you to curse.

"’M’Sorry mama, didn't expect to hear my name come out of your pretty mouth." His tongue continuously swiped over the mark but you could feel the smirk against your skin causing you to suck your teeth.

"Make it up to me and eat my pussy then."

His chuckle was dark before you felt his lips kiss your clothed slit before his teeth tore through the fabric. "Oh baby, I'm going to devour you."

His heated breath ghosted across your sensitive flesh, his tongue tracing teasing circles around your clit before dipping lower to taste you properly. Your eyes rolled back as moans laced your tongue, your hands leaving your thighs to find their way in his hair but the blonde wasn’t having it.

"Keep your legs up there, you’re a fucking cheerleader—don't get lazy on me now." You groaned as he began kitten-licking the area around your clit before you complied.

His deep groan vibrated against your core as he savoured your sweetness, his hot breath making you shiver with each exhale. His hands found your ass, pulling you closer as he devoured you with increasing intensity, drawing out those sweet sounds he'd only dreamed of hearing.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned against your sensitive flesh, his voice rough with desire. "Knew you would give up the act, your too much of a slut not to want me to ruin you." His thumb found your clit, circling it with deliberate pressure while his tongue delved deeper, claiming every inch of you. Your fingers began to leave impressions on your skin from how hard you were gripping, he worked you closer to the edge, his movements becoming more intense with each passing moment. His roughness only heightened the passion, every touch and growl reminding you of the fire that burned within him.

"Shiiiit, Katsuki-- I'm gonna cum." Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, moans slipping through your lips as he continued to work his tongue through your pussy.

He loved the way his name flowed from your lips and your mouth shaped it—a masterpiece in motion. Your voice, a melody, and your lips, a work of art. To be the one who heard it, the one who brought you this joy? It made him smile to himself, lost in the bliss of it all.

You felt two of his fingers roughly pull in and out of you, drawing louder moans from your throat. "Eh, who told you that you could cum without asking me?" Your hands leave your legs, not having enough strength and willpower to hold yourself up any longer, but Bakugo helps you out. One leg had been pulled over his shoulder, and the blonde held a bruising grip on your other thigh while his fingers and tongue continued to pull an orgasm out of you.

"P-leaasee, please, please." Your fingers gripped his locks pulling his face closer to your cunt. He nibbled on your clit, his face looking up at you, his grin wide as he watched you come apart on his fingers.

"Go on then baby, cum for me." And your body followed his command, all you could hear was his continued praises as he worked you through your orgasm.

You heard him chuckle as he reluctantly removed his fingers from your sopping cunt. Your vision began to clear as you watched him pull his shirt over his head, you moaned from the sight, the definition of his torso, every sculpted ridge of his abs—he was built like he was made to destroy, broad shoulders tapering into a lean, cut waist.

And those arms?

Thick, veined, carved to perfection—you wanted those arms around you as he fucked you into oblivion.

He smirked when he caught you staring, chest rising and falling with every controlled breath.

“You done eye-fucking me?” His voice was thick as he watched your thighs rub together to release some friction. You watched as his hands pulled down his jeans and boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach before it stood bold and proud in front of you.

Fuck.

Of course, he was that fucking big, he had the fucking ego for it.

He started to kiss up your legs as he made his way up your body. You pulled yourself up on your elbows before your lips met his, your tongue forced its way into his mouth, you moaned as you tasted yourself on his lips. The kiss was messy, desperate, and utterly consuming, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he bit down gently, drawing a gasp from you.

You hadn't realised your head hit the mattress, he threw your leg over his shoulder, his lips leaving yours, grazing your ears as the head of his cock tapped against your clit, drawing a sharp jolt from you, and a wicked smirk tugged at his lips before he slowly pushed inside. You both moaned from the feeling of him bottoming out, your walls clenched around him, sucking him in and squeezing him so tightly it made his breath hitch.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as he nearly collapsed on top of you, your nails raked down his back, leaving faint red trails, "Wanted you for so fucking long, but you walked around like you were too fucking good for me." He rasped, his voice thick with need. He delivered a hard thrust, stretching you to your limit as a strangled cry escaped your lips.

"That's it," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he pulled you against him. Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in and squeezing so tightly it made his breath hitch. "So fucking tight," he growled, his hips snapping forward with rough, punishing thrusts that left you gasping.

He pushed your right leg up towards the headboard, his thrusts got deeper, your moans grew louder as you felt him deeper in your cervix, your eyes travelled down to where you two met. Moaning as you watched his cock pull in and out of you, his chuckle broke you out of your trance, eyes finding his as he angled his hips, driving into you harder, faster, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body.

"So tight, so pretty," he purred, his lips trailing up your throat. His teeth grazed your pulse before he bit down, marking you.

Meeting each of Bakugo's powerful thrusts, you felt yourself gush around him, your arousal soaking his thick length each time he pulled back before slamming down again. The lewd sounds of your connection filled the room, mixing with your desperate moans. Your stomach coiled tight with building pressure, toes curling as the intensity becomes almost too much to bear. Your hands pressed against his chest, overwhelmed by the sensation. "Wait! Katsuki... I-" Your words dissolved into a cry as your walls clenched around him violently. "I can't... it's too much," you gasped, even as your body betrayed you by pulling him deeper, your legs now wrapped around his waist.

"Too much?" he growled, his voice laced with taunt, his grip tightening on your hips as he maintained his relentless pace. "This is exactly what you needed, isn't it? That’s why you act so fucking bratty, just wanted to me fuck it outta you. " His voice was rough with desire as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

"This pussy is so perfect," He growled, his eyes locked on the way your slick walls clung to his cock, creaming and squeezing him with every thrust. "It's like it was made just for me. Tell me, baby, whose pussy is this?"

"Yours, Daddy," you slurred, mind a haze, voice trembling as the overwhelming pleasure built to a breaking point. Your body was on the edge, your pussy aching to release as his relentless pace drove you closer. He chuckled darkly, his hips snapping forward even faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your lips parted with continued moans, "You know long I've been wanting to fuck the brat outta you?" He rasped, voice dripped with need, "And look at you now, drunk on my cock calling me daddy. I think you're ready to cum now. I want it all on my cock. Can you do that for me, mama? Or is that too much for your sweet little pussy to handle?"

Before you could even respond, the pressure inside you exploded like a tidal wave, your juices spraying against his thighs in a messy, uncontrollable release. Katsuki groaned in appreciation, biting his lip as he watched you come undone beneath him. "Good girl," he muttered, his voice rough and low, as you gasped for breath, your body trembling in his grasp.

The blonde above you continued to drive into you as he chased his own orgasm, you moaned as your walls welcomed the hot ropes of his cum. You winced when his body left yours, you could hear him whispering rough praises to you, unable to piece the words together but you could feel the warm cloth as he began to clean you up.

The room was hot, the air thick with the scent of sweat, skin, and sex. The sheets beneath you were a tangled mess, your body still humming from everything that had just happened.

After he cleaned you up, the blonde lay beside you, eyes glued to you, your eyes closed as your body hummed from your orgasm. His chest rising and falling, your skin glistening under the dim light making you look like a fucking brownie. His arm was draped over your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin.

Then, his voice—low, rough, and possessive—broke through the silence.

“You finished with your game, you gonna be mine now?”

A statement, not a question.

You smirked, rolling onto your side to face him, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh yeah?” you teased, voice sultry. “Why would I do that?”

His red eyes darkened, jaw tightening as his grip on your waist flexed, his fingers pressing into your bare skin. “Because you were a slut for my cock, you started calling me daddy.”

You bit your lip, clearly enjoying the way his dominance flared. “Mmm, I don’t know, Katsuki. Could have been a lapse in judgment."

You giggled as he flipped you over onto your stomach; pulling your ass in the air. You knew he would continue to drag multiple orgasms out of you until you said you were his.

And you smirked into the sheets, knowing you had him exactly where you wanted him.

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari smirked when the hero ruffled her hair. "What sneak attack?" She asked, her body turning to keep track of Hawks. She chirped, one hand on her hip and the biggest, proudest smile on her face as she declared, chest out and beaming while pointing at Hawks as the sunlight danced behind her.

"I'm gonna work with you as a hero one day! I'll be one of your sidekicks or maybe an intern when I go to UA! Maybe both! Because I WILL be going there no matter what! I'll work my butt off and become the best so when I'm old enough I'll be able to help out kids like me one day! I'll save families as best as I can so there are fewer kids who are alone!" Her voice carried a proud tone, a promise to the world as it were. That fire that was once just a spark, was now burning bright in her eyes. This was her reason to keep moving forward, to keep going.

Kari found her reason to be a hero.

Her family that had long since been dead. And her family that she was rebuilding. Both were her reasons to keep moving, to keep fighting. A big step for many young heros was finding their reason to become a hero. Most were selfish reasons, but a small handful were selfless for one reason or another. Kari genuinely wanted to help, genuinely wanted there to be less suffering. A childish notion to many, but it was something she believed she could do one day. And no one was gonna take that from her.

"No way I want you to sign me up early, I wanna work hard like everyone else. No hand outs, got it?" The child puffed out her cheeks. "I know you're number two and all, but I wanna work hard on my own as much as I can, if I need help I'll ask but I'll do my best not to rely on your reputation. I wanna build my own." The child flared out her wings and got into position next to Hawks, listening to his rules for the race. She nodded.

"Got it." She chirped, stretching her wings out as far as they could reach. When Hawks said "GO" Kari raced to the edge of the roof with reckless abandon, trusting her Papa to keep an eye on her. She jumped off and began to glide down with a boisterous laugh, gliding towards the arcade with the widest smile.

Kari did try to experiment a bit with wing position, seeing what would happen if she tucked one wing in while gliding then leveling herself out after a moment. She tried bending her wings one way or another, just all around having fun and learning. She even managed to roll in place which caused her to giggle a contagious giggle.

"Did you see that Papa? I rolled in place!" She called up to Hawks. "This is fun!" She called out, continuing to experiment a bit while nearing the arcade.

Hawks’ smirk softened into something more affectionate as he listened to her excitement. The way her words bubbled out, carrying both joy and the shadow of something heavier, didn’t go unnoticed. He had seen her at her weakest—frail, uncertain, carrying the weight of things a kid never should. But now? She was soaring, even if just a little, and damn if that didn’t make him proud.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” he teased, ruffling her hair again. “I’ll go easy on ya—just this once. But once those wings of yours get stronger? No more holding back.” He grinned, stepping back and stretching his wings. “And don’t think I didn’t catch that little sneak attack you just pulled—‘when I’m older, working with you as a hero’—smooth, chickadee.” He shot her a knowing look. “You trying to guilt-trip me into signing you up early?”

He crouched slightly, giving her a playful nudge with one wing. “Alright, race rules: You glide as far as you can, and I’ll spot you. If you start dropping too fast, I’ll swoop in. But if you manage to beat me to the arcade, I’ll even let you pick the first game. Sound good?” He grinned, stepping toward the edge of the rooftop they were on. “On your mark… get set…” He flared his wings dramatically.

“Go!”

[mega-banette]

you know what. if we’re imagining Fox as being 17-19 then offering her french toast was actually a genius move on the Bizzies’ part. because from experience the number 1 way to get a teenager to trust you is to give them free food

[thesauce8]

i always hate when people say thag the uchihas are more sensitive because theyre predisposed to mental illness as if theyre dramatic or respond disjointedly from their circumstances. im inclined to say theyre some of the only characters who behave believably in accordance with their trauma. like sasuke was literally psychologically tortured when he was 13. do we think thats gonna turn someone into a football loving go getter? they use characters whose trauma barely gets shown as a standard when its not that the uchiha are dramatic but that naruto just doesnt get much focus on the trauma that he should undeniably have.

[vorecaptions]

Arnold stood in the center of the dimly lit gym, his massive frame towering over the equipment like a god among mortals. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and testosterone, and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights buzzed in the background. His muscles rippled with every subtle movement, veins snaking across his bronzed skin like rivers of power. Tonight, he had chosen his next victim—a young, aspiring bodybuilder named Jake, who had been idolizing Arnold from the shadows for months. Jake was the perfect candidate: young, handsome, and eager to please.

Arnold’s lips curled into a predatory smile as he watched Jake approach, his eyes wide with admiration.

“Mr. Arnold,” Jake stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of nerves and excitement. “I can’t believe you invited me here. This is… it’s an honor.”

Arnold chuckled, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down Jake’s spine. “Call me Arnold,” he said, his tone dripping with a kind of casual dominance that made Jake’s knees weak. “You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? Admit it.”

Jake nodded, his cheeks flushing red. “Yes, sir. I mean, Arnold. You’re… you’re everything I want to be. Your physique, your dedication—it’s inspiring.”

Arnold stepped closer, his massive chest looming over Jake like a mountain. “Inspiration is one thing,” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper. “But admiration? That’s something else entirely. You admire me, don’t you, Jake?”

Jake swallowed hard, his gaze locked on Arnold’s chiseled abs. “Yes,” he breathed.

“Good,” Arnold purred. “Then let’s start with a little… worship.”

Arnold flexed his bicep, the muscle swelling to an almost inhuman size. Jake’s mouth went dry as he reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against the hard, warm surface. His touch was hesitant at first, but as Arnold’s approval washed over him, he grew bolder, his hands exploring every ridge and contour of the bodybuilder’s arm.

“Feel that power,” Arnold murmured, his voice a low, commanding growl. “That’s what years of dedication get you. That’s what real strength feels like.”

Jake’s heart raced as he moved down to Arnold’s chest, his palms flattening against the massive pecs. His fingers traced the outline of each muscle, marveling at the sheer size and hardness. “It’s incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Arnold’s smirk deepened. “Oh, Jake,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Without warning, Arnold grabbed Jake by the back of the neck and pulled him close, his massive body pressing against the younger man’s. Jake gasped as he felt something hard and hot pressing against his stomach. He looked down, his eyes widening as he realized what it was.

Arnold’s cock was enormous, thick and veiny, standing erect and throbbing with need. Jake’s mind went blank as Arnold’s hand moved to the back of his head, guiding him down to his knees.

“Open your mouth,” Arnold commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Jake obeyed instinctively, his lips parting as Arnold’s cock filled his mouth. The taste was overwhelming, salty and musky, and Jake gagged as the thick shaft pushed deeper into his throat. Tears streamed down his cheeks as Arnold began to thrust, each movement sending waves of pleasure through the bodybuilder’s body and pain through Jake’s.

“That’s it,” Arnold growled, his hands gripping Jake’s hair tightly. “Take it all. Every inch. You wanted to be like me, didn’t you? This is the first step.”

Jake’s throat burned as Arnold’s cock slammed into him over and over again, the older man’s groans of pleasure echoing through the empty gym. His jaw ached, and his vision blurred, but he didn’t dare stop. He wanted this. He needed this.

Arnold’s thrusts grew more erratic, his breathing ragged as he approached the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he came, hot ropes of cum flooding Jake’s throat and spilling out of his lips. Jake coughed and sputtered, swallowing as much as he could, his belly already feeling full and warm.

Arnold pulled out, his cock glistening with saliva and cum as he looked down at Jake with a satisfied smirk. “Good boy,” he murmured, his voice soft and almost tender.

But the tenderness didn’t last.

Arnold grabbed Jake by the shoulders and flipped him onto his back, the younger man’s body sprawled out on the cold gym floor. Jake’s mind was hazy, his body weak from the brutal face-fucking, but he didn’t resist as Arnold spread his legs and positioned himself between them.

“This is where the real fun begins,” Arnold said, his voice dark and hungry.

Jake barely had time to process the words before he felt the head of Arnold’s cock pressing against his tight hole. He gasped, his body tensing as Arnold pushed inside, the stretch almost unbearable.

“Relax,” Arnold commanded, his voice firm yet strangely soothing. “Let me in.”

Jake forced himself to relax, his muscles giving way as Arnold’s cock slid deeper into him. The pain was overwhelming at first, but as Arnold began to thrust, it gave way to a mixture of pleasure and discomfort that left Jake moaning and writhing beneath him.

Arnold’s grunts filled the air as he pounded into Jake, his massive body dominating the younger man completely. His hands gripped Jake’s hips tightly, lifting him off the ground with each thrust.

“You’re mine now,” Arnold growled, his voice filled with possessive intensity. “Every part of you. Every inch. And soon…”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against Jake’s ear as he whispered, “You’ll be part of me forever.”

Jake’s eyes widened as he felt the strange sensation of his body being pulled inward, his flesh melding with Arnold’s. He tried to scream, but no sound came out, his voice swallowed by the overwhelming force consuming him.

Arnold’s thrusts grew more powerful as Jake’s body began to sink into him, the younger man’s limbs dissolving into nothingness as they became one.

“That’s it,” Arnold murmured, his voice a low, satisfied purr. “Let go. Become part of me.”

Jake’s vision darkened as the last of his body disappeared, his consciousness merging with Arnold’s. The bodybuilder stood up, his muscles swelling with new strength and vitality.

Arnold turned to the mirrors, his reflection a masterpiece of human perfection. His chest rose and fell with slow, measured breaths, each inhale expanding his massive frame even further. He flexed his biceps, the muscles rippling like tectonic plates shifting beneath his skin. The veins on his forearms stood out in bold relief, a roadmap of raw power. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound deep and resonant, as he ran his hands over his abs, each ridge hard and unyielding.

“Another one,” he said to his reflection, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Another sacrifice to the temple of this body.”

He marveled at the way Jake’s essence had seamlessly integrated into his own, every cell of the young man’s body dissolving into pure energy and strength. The gym lights caught the sheen of sweat on his bronzed skin, amplifying the muscular definition that seemed almost inhuman. He could feel Jake’s admiration, his devotion, coursing through him like an electric current—pure, unfiltered worship.

“You wanted to be me, didn’t you, Jake?” Arnold murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “And now you are. Every fiber of your being, every dream, every ounce of passion... it’s all mine.”

He turned slightly, admiring the way his deltoids rounded into perfect cannonballs, his traps rising like mountains. His lats flared, creating the illusion of wings, and his quads flexed with the kind of density that could shatter stone. Arnold cupped his pec, squeezing the muscle roughly, laughing as the pain-pleasure sensation rolled through him.

“So young, so eager,” he said, almost to himself. “So perfect for this. You gave yourself to me willingly, Jake. And I’ll make sure your sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”

He ran his hands down his chest, over his abs, and paused at the base of his still-hard cock, which throbbed with the residual energy of the act. He smirked, knowing full well it wasn’t just physical power but also the intoxicating rush of complete domination that fed him.

Arnold tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he reveled in the sensation of being more than human. “This body is a monument,” he said, his voice thick with pride. “And every piece added to it makes it stronger, more beautiful, more... divine.”

He opened his eyes, staring at his reflection once more. “Thank you, Jake,” he whispered. “You’re part of something eternal now.”

With a final, self-satisfied nod, Arnold grabbed his gym bag and walked out, leaving the mirrors to reflect the empty space where Jake had once stood.He flexed his arms, his biceps and pecs bulging to even greater proportions as Jake’s mass was absorbed into his body. Arnold’s skin glistened with sweat, his veins popping as he admired his reflection in the gym’s mirrors.

“Perfect,” he said, his voice filled with narcissistic satisfaction.

He turned to face the empty gym, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath.

[dumpywrites]

Star Crossed - Kim Taehyung / V

Prompt: Costume party comes into disaster when you mistaken your crush as your friend.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, just feel-good sweet soft fluff, university au, strangers to lovers (?), drable-ish

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Word count: 2.8k

a/n: I'm not a huge fate believer, never am. But I've always have a soft spot for accidental meetings type of stories :')

You never really get the rich people life. They just be throwing parties left and right, without having to think about the expenses, the mess, or even worry about invitation number. Even if you had the money to spend, party was and never will be the first choice in your mind to do so. 

But you were in university, life was supposed to be like this, right? It was supposed to be filled with stupid young people activities. And by that theory, you should not be regretting your decision on joining your friend to this random rich girl’s party. Right?

You were sure the month was February, and Halloween wasn’t supposed to come early like this. The new head of student council was obsessed with costume dressing, said she loved the oddly sexy vibe it brought. Plus, it did give her and everyone else some good excuse to dress slutty. 

While you could understand Lisa throwing this huge party to celebrate her new position, you had no idea why she would invite your friend. Apparently, they accidentally bumped into each other during lunch break and he helped her picking up her stuff. The invitation came very easily right after. You guessed being friendly with everyone was a must-do thing if you wanted to maintain your popular status.

“Your costume is very creative…” You said in a sarcastic tone, eyeing your friend up and down. 

“Hey, this was a last minute decision, alright?! I don’t have time to actually make one and this was rather cheap.” Hanbin said. 

You took a double take on your friend squid game guard costume. “This just screams lack of creativity and personality no matter how hard you try to defend it.” 

“Dude, I was struggling with my assignments!!!” He rolled his eyes as he protested. 

“You should’ve just bought a floral shorts and pink t-shirt and just be my Patrick.” You told him. 

You were in fact in a Spongebob inspired costume, with your shirt and tie, and you even got a his hat in a form of hair clip that you found online. You were pretty proud of the look you created.

“Whatever dude, let’s just go.” 

Your friend turned off the car engine and exited the vehicle, you followed. After pressing the doorbell a few times, the door opened revealing the owner of the house herself greeting you both. She was wearing a fully blinged bodysuit, and with tiny wings on her back, it seemed like she was aiming for a Victoria’s Secret inspired look. 

“Hanbin! You made it!” She squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh, you brought a friend? Hello! I’m Lisa.” She happily extended hand to you just after she closed the door. 

You mentioned your name and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you and congrats.” 

She smiled sweetly and thanked you. “I have to go back to the others, but you guys have fun! Go around and help yourselves!” And with that she waved and left. 

“Great, now what?” You looked at your friend. 

“We socialize! Maybe this way I can get more member for the dance club.” He smirked, fixing the mask that hung on his head. 

“Whatever.” You dismissed, shooing him. “Just go, I’ll be just right here, playing tetris on my phone.” 

“You’re not coming with me to mingle around? Who knows, maybe that Taehyung guy is here.” Hanbin wiggled his eyebrows. 

Your eyes widened as you gasped. “God, you’re right! He must be popular there’s no way he isn’t invited!!! Come on… now I regret on being Spongebob.” 

Taehyung was this stranger you met at the library once upon a time. His pen rolled away when he accidentally dropped it and it landed right next to your feet, just where you were sitting. He didn’t need to know that you were basically watching him from a few tables away just because of how beautiful he looked, just sitting there reading prettily. 

All you had was his name right after the awkward handshake when you gave him the pen. You were too stunned to even say your name back, which you still regretted until this very day. He did smile on his way back to his table, and even waved his hand at you before leaving, but that was all. At times like this you wished you had better self esteem.

“And you think you’ll actually have a chance with him if you’re not in this Spongebob attire?” He teased. 

“You did not just say that.” You hit your friend’s side. 

The two-story villa was enormous. You did not know what was in the punch they gave you but after a short social charge toilet break, you totally lost your friend in the crowd. How you managed to lost someone with a full pink costume was beyond you, but in your defense the light was pretty dim. 

You had been looking for almost half an hour, before you finally spotted the bright colored suit. But now questions arose. 

Why was Hanbin covering his face with the mask? You thought he was coming to socialize. Who was this guy sitting next to him, with an arm covered in full tattooed sleeve, wearing a police costume? Nonetheless you needed to go to him since you still had no luck in finding anyone to at least be your company. At times like this you wished more of your friends were the party type.

When you approached him, you saw whatever conversation they were having halted. The tattooed man looked at you with confusion in his eyes. 

“Can we go back home now? If you’re still not done socializing I can go back myself.” 

“Whoa, who are you?!” The policemen asked with wide eyes. 

You quickly gave him your name and shook his hand with a blank face, leaving the guy in awe. You turned to your friend again, who was weirdly quiet. “So?”

Your friend shrugged, there was an unfamiliar chuckle coming out from him but you figured the loud music and the fact that his mask was on were playing a part. He nodded and stood up, waved his hand at the other guy before you followed him out of the front door. He stopped right in front of the gates, standing awkwardly. 

“Are you drunk? I can drive if you can’t.”

“I never actually got your name before, but now that I have, it’s nice to meet you, I guess.” 

Now who in the fresh hell was this. That wasn’t how Hanbin sounded like. You had known the man for two years enough for you to instantly know that this was in fact not your friend who was behind the costume. 

You took a few steps back, afraid. “You’re not Hanbin…”

He took his mask off, proceeding to take your breath away along with it. Oh, this was definitely not your friend. 

“Remember me? From library?” 

You could not believe your eyes. It was none other than Taehyung himself smiling brightly at you. Did they switch costume? What on earth was going on??? Your little brain could only do so much. 

“H-How?! Oh my goodness I’m so sorry! I thought you were my friend!” You panicked. 

“It’s fine.” He chuckled. “It was getting stuffy in there anyways. You’re down for some ice cream?”

“Huh? You sure? I need to tell my friend about this…”

“I came across your friend, we had a good laugh about our poor costume choices for a solid minute before he told me he needed to get out from it cause he couldn’t stand the heat anymore, which honestly, I get it now.” He laughed. 

“He took the suit off, that makes a lot of sense now.” You sighed. 

“His mask is circle, mine’s square.” He pointed at the mask over his head and took it off to show you. “See?”

“Of course.” As if anyone would remember that detail. 

“I can replace your friend for the night?” He gave you a questioning look. 

Honestly, you would be utterly stupid to refuse this golden offer. 

“If you’re not too ashamed to walk around in public with Spongebob that is.”

“Eh, it’s cute.” 

Yeah, there was definitely something in that punch. “Thank you?” You said as you walked next to him, hoping your blush wasn’t visible. “Where are we heading?”

“Seven-eleven. Let’s just hope they won’t kick us out for looking like this.” He laughed. “So what were you reading?”

“Huh?”

“That day, at the library.” 

“Uh, don’t laugh at me.” You nervously looked away. “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.”

“Oh wow.” He laughed instantly. 

“I told you not to laugh!” You sulked. 

“No, that’s like perfect, I couldn’t imagine a better answer.” He continued to laugh. “At least that’s a cool answer, I was just there to study for my exam.” 

“I regret telling you what book I was reading.”

“Okay, I’ll stop laughing.” He chuckled. “I’m still bummed you didn’t say your name when I told you mine that day.”

You for sure couldn’t tell him you were too mesmerized seeing him up close to say anything. “I was zoning out.”

He breathed out in relief. “I swear I thought you didn’t like me or something.” He smiled. “What were you doing at Lisa’s party anyway?”

“Hanbin was the one who got the invitation, I was just dragged along.” You shrugged. “You?”

“We just know each other I guess. She’s quite the social butterfly. I wasn’t doing anything anyways and Jungkook actually was the one who wanted to wear this costume, but boy ordered the wrong size and it was too small for him. Hence, this.” He pointed at himself. 

“What was your original costume then?” 

“Nick Wilde from Zootopia.” 

This time it was your turn to burst out laughing.  

He looked at you with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Don’t tell me you’re a furry.” 

“Hey, it’s just a very simple costume. All I need was some fake fox ears, plain green shirt and a tie, done!” He reasoned. 

“Whatever you say, furry.” You teased. 

“Oh my god, you’re never gonna let this go now, huh?” He complained, but couldn’t help a smile. 

Finally you arrived at a near seven-eleven. The cashier was indeed giving both of you weird looks, considering the place was empty and your costumes, especially Taehyung’s bright pink one, were quite hard to miss. Nonetheless, you got yourself a cup of slurpee and Taehyung got himself a cone of packaged ice cream. 

The whole time you were enjoying your drink, Taehyung was singing along to the random songs they played. You had to cover his mouth a few times, afraid you were actually gonna get kicked out for real just because he was singing his heart out to a Katy Perry song. You never pictured him to be this goofy weirdo judging by his model-esque appearance, but it sure was a wonderful surprise.

After finishing the snacks, both of you decided to continue the night stroll. He held out his hand to help you stand up from the bench, knowing well you could stand up by yourself easily, but again, who were you to miss such opportunity. 

“So,” he said, glancing at you with a teasing smile, “If you hadn’t mistaken me for your friend tonight, would you have talked to me?”

You hesitated, kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk. “Honestly? Probably not.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

You sighed, debating whether to tell the truth. But something about him made it easy, like he wouldn’t judge you no matter what you said. “Because I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. And when you don’t think you’ll see someone again, it’s easier to keep them as a… I don’t know, a daydream.”

He looked at you in amuse. “A daydream?”

“I had this whole version of you in my head. A mystery guy from the library.” You playfully explained with your hands.

“Am I better or worse than the version in your head?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think. “Hmm… jury’s still out.”

Taehyung put a hand over his chest dramatically. “I’m personally offended.”

You giggled, nudging him playfully. “I was so sure you were this person who just wouldn’t talk to someone like me, given the chance.” You shrugged. “I’m glad I was wrong about it.” You smiled. 

“You shouldn’t think of yourself so lowly like that. What makes you think I wouldn’t talk to you? Who even am I?!” He folded his arms. 

“That’s why you’re better than the version in my head.” You giggled. “What about me? What’s the verdict?”

“Oh, I hate it.” He nodded with big boxy grin on his face. 

“Excuse me?!” You gasped. 

“If I know this is how fun you are to be with I would’ve fought for your name that day.” 

This man really had you in his fingertips. “You can’t be serious.” You rolled your eyes, groaning but stomach filled with butterflies. 

Somehow, your random wandering led you to a small playground nestled between apartment buildings. It was empty, the swings swaying slightly in the breeze. Without thinking, you walked over and sat down on one, pushing off lightly with your feet. Taehyung sat on the swing next to you, mirroring your movements.

“When was the last time you were on a swing?” you asked, gripping the metal chains.

“Hmm… Probably when I was, like, eight? I used to think if I swung high enough, I’d be able to fly.”

You laughed. “Me too.”

Taehyung turned his head toward you, his expression softer now. “Why’d you stop?”

You hesitated, looking down at your feet as they brushed against the gravel. “I guess… I grew up. Started worrying about things that seven-year-old me never did.”

Taehyung was quiet for a moment. Then, suddenly, he jumped off his swing, landing with a small thud. He turned to face you with an excited glint in his eyes. “Okay, new challenge.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

He grinned. “Swing as high as you can. No thinking. Just feel it.”

You scoffed. “What are we, kids?”

“Yep.” he said simply, grabbing the chains of your swing and pulling it back slightly before stepping away. “Now go.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, pushing off with your feet. At first, you were hesitant, but then the familiar rush of the wind against your skin took over. You pumped your legs harder, swinging higher and higher until the ground blurred beneath you.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt free.

Taehyung laughed beside you, his own swing matching yours. “See? Told you.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. “Okay, okay, you win. You’re still a weirdo for it though.”

“Damn right, I am.” He proudly said. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while, swinging under the dim glow of the streetlights, talking about everything and nothing. It was easy. Natural. Like you had known him forever.

Eventually, you both slowed to a stop, breathing heavily from laughing too much. Taehyung leaned back against the jungle gym, tilting his head up to look at the sky. You joined him, the night stretching endlessly above you.

“It’s weird.” you murmured after a while.

“What is?”

“How we were literally just strangers like a few hours ago.” You giggled. “And trust me I’m not this person with high social capabilities to just do… this.”

Taehyung turned his head to look at you, his expression unreadable. “It is kinda crazy, huh?”

You nodded, playing with the hem of your sleeve. “I was convinced I’d never see you again.”

“Me too.” he admitted. “And then, suddenly you were in front of me, asking me to go home with you. Never thought you were that kind of person but, we listen we don’t judge?” He laughed. 

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me.”

He chuckled, gently prying your hands away. Your breath hitched as his fingers lingered on yours for a second too long.

You swallowed. “Taehyung…”

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, searching his face. “This… whatever this is—”

He cut you off gently. “—is something I want to figure out.”

Your heart stopped.

He smiled, a little softer this time. “You feel the same way?”

You exhaled shakily, the tension melting away. “Totally.”

Taehyung grinned, standing up and stretching. “Then let’s do it again!”

You blinked a few times. “Do what?”

“Hang out! No parties, no mistaken identities. Just us.”

You giggled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Sounds great.”

He held out his hand, just like he had at the convenience store. Without hesitation this time, you took it.

As you walked together under the glow of the city lights, you couldn’t help but think. Maybe, just maybe, some things were meant to happen after all. 

You might need to thank your friend later for his costume choice though. 

Thank you for reading! ★

[juchily]

Yellowjackets S3 Ep1 thoughts

Spoilers below ⚠️

not them buttering us up with the cute fun scenes like them playing tag so they can hit us with the horrible stuff later... I see you showtime

edit: MARI CALLED SHAUNA GAYWAD WHEN SHAUNA TACKLED HER?? ALSO JUST IGNORING THAT SHAUNA IS COMPETITIVE IT WAS INDEED VERY GAY THE WAY SHE WAS MANHANDLING MARI

Taivan taivan taivan taivan!

taivan broke up after rescue 😞

Travis is one of the girls ✨🧚

Shauna's freaky as shit... But like 🙇

That whole scene with Melissa and Shauna was gold, "You have a personality?"?? Be fr the extra gets her first real line and the writers write in a character pointing it out this is so funny

Melissa being so eager to suck up and impress Shauna, two girls telling each other "yeahhh", Melissa wants that cookie. Genlissa shippers it's OVER

what do we think Nat got arrested for when she was 24?

Love Callie for that... I've never hated her be real she's too much of an icon to hate

Im going to be real, when those girls talked about the girls eating pig blood and then having a druggy orgy I did infact go "we all wish" because do we not?? The writers KNOW what we want at this point lol

did Shauna know pre crash that Lottie was schizophrenic? Did she find the pill bottle post crash? If she knew this, would this be a fuel for her hate for Lottie because of her visions, miracles, etc

Lottie being a therapist... God she's too much of everything I can't even begin <3

Lottie and Travis as a duo are so cute (AS NON ROMANTIC, I HATE THEM ROMANTICALLY THAT)

...i thought Van and Tai were going to go at it in the restaurant bathroom ngl, dining and dashing and fucking in an alley is cool too

also that scene in the restaurant where Van seems to be feeling weird... And then right after that the waiter guy dies (supposedly) and we see that onscreen effect go away... Just saying

Id eat the shit (read: spit) out of that soup...

Mari and Shauna getting treated like misbehaving dogs... They low-key are. Poor Mari honestly. And Shauna gaslighting...

SHAUNA AND CALLIE BONDING OH MY LORD CALLIE'S A MINI SHAUNA AND I DONT KNOW WHETHER I SHOULD BE SCARED OF THAT

i can believe Ben finding a war/apocalypse prep container especially considering Cabin guy's insane amount of ammo, but I find it odd that the case is pristinely clean despite being covered in a pit of dirt and dust. Maybe they just didn't bother making it look weathered and I'm looking into it too hard.

NAT HALLUCINATION PLUS CHERRY BOMB 💥💥🎉

Honestly I think Walter may have lied to Misty, on the other hand Van and Taissa were getting down and dirty and Shauna was actually bonding with her kid for once

they make memorial for Javi, then Jackie, then Wilderness baby, im just confused on the fact they don't mention Laura Lee? Especially that Lottie of all people wouldn't mention her. Also the five lanterns I still think that's a clue to a death count this season (past and present, maybe just past timeline)

Ben is up to some evil shit... I don't think Mari dies in that hole though from some of the teasers we've seen

callie pocketed that tape... Didn't anyone tell you not to open other people's mail young lady 🤓

CAKE, they played CAKE, oh I can die happy

Ending thoughts:

Wtf is that sound Travis heard? Does the sound have something to do with being drunk? He hears it first when he's high, and the other girls hear it after the feast (they had like wine or something).

The no eyed man... come on let's get a good look at 'im

Who left the letter? Will the other Yellowjackets get a letter like the one that was supposed to go to Shauna?

What will happen to Mari? What is Ben's purpose of making that trap and what does he plan to do now that he's catched one of the girls. Furthermore, this would prove he knew they survived the cabin fire. Will this lead to the girls finding where Ben is?

Laura Lee erasure... 😭

[adventurermari]

I've slowly seen more and more you tubers talking about and singing the praises of the first cars game and that makes me really happy to see, however one aspect of these games that I feel like I haven't seen discussed is how much of a fantastic and natural job that game and it's sequels do at expanding upon the world building of the first movie.

Okay so first of all I wanna mention that in the first movie, in front of mater's junkyard, there's two buildings that are in extremely rough shape

in the first movie, the space that these buildings occupy aren't really relevant to at all aside from them giving lightning mcqueen is first impression of radiator springs, well, at least in a way where he can actually process where he is. Now then, fast forward to the very end of the first movie, lightning mentions that he's getting his own racing headquarters.

now take a look at this screenshot from the first video game, notice the sign mentioning a racing quarters for lightning in front of the abandoned buildings? if you look closely, it mentions "coming soon"

In the sequel to this game, Cars mater-national, that exact space of land where those buildings reside are replaced with lightning's racing headquarters, which it's own construction progesses as you progress through the game alongside lightning's own hometrack and it's all wonderful to see both of these landmarks slowly develop in the game

In cars race o rama, none of this expanded world building has been forgotten about, lightning mcqueen's new headquarters is still a part of radiator springs while not plot relevant at all, it is still nice to see it there mean while lightning's new home track, now actually having the name of radiator springs speedway, which isn't only a place that you can race in, but is also it's own hub world that you can explore which absolutely blew my mind as kid, also the track is also more developed than it was in mater-national, and has a drastically different layout for some reason but idk it's not a really big deal, especially because of how cool this track looks

Another thing I find interesting is that race o rama establishses the hudson racing acedemy, a racing a acedemy where young, future race cars can train alongside lightning mqueen which is a very interesting direction for his character, especially considering the mentor figure that lightning would later become in cars 3, Race O rama basically beat that movie to the punch with that concept and I find that very interesting

Like oh my god, I just love how much these games expanded upon the world building from the first movie so much in such a natural and interesting way, like I can't think of that many other licensed games that even do that and I feel like this aspect of these games should be discussed more often cause it's just so fascinating, like the video games practically serve as a great continuation from the first movie, especially with the first game already taking the interesting angle of taking place after the events of the first movie and then the other two games continuing after that first game. It's just one of those aspects of these first 3 cars games that I believe makes them so much more fascinating and special compared to the cars 2 and 3 game, which I don't have anything against, since I did really like the cars 2 game back then and I haven't played driven to win, despite some of the flaws and criticisms i've heard from that game I still feel like I'll still really enjoy it since it has the same gameplay style as the cars 2 game. I also do like how that game also takes place after the third movie but I cannot speak for how well it expands upon the concepts presented in it's movie as I have never played it but I find it very sweet that the tutorial race has lightning doing a simulated race with doc even if it's present kinda weirdly cause of the dialogue/voice acting in that game is really strange. But it's fine honestly, I kinda don't really mind that those games deviate so hard from the first 3 cars games. however I cannot deny that little egg me found it odd when the second movie and it's game had not a single appearance of any of these things that were established in the games, however that didn't stop little egg me from making both the first movie, games, and second movie all be canon in my cars diecast lore.

[lov3-lik3-ghosts]

Hey would you write Cullens x reader headcannons on Valentine’s Day? It’s okay if not!

Month of Cupid

Warnings: Not proofread. Human!reader. Little bit of Y/n lore. Can be read as gn!r

Authors Note: Hii lovely! I bouldered my way through writers block to get this posted on the 14th. I hope you enjoy, have a very happy Valentine’s Day!

| mother m-list

• Dainty little flowers + Alice + traversing through the woods while gold beams through every nook, igniting her skin into millions of winking stars = Any sane person's dream.

That’s it. That’s the headcanon. There’s genuinely no other way I imagine a date with Alice is — soft and sweet and so so authentic that you honestly can’t believe she just… exists.

• Emmett’s the only one out of the Cullen’s that doesn’t think to ask you. You’re his already, surely you already know you’re each other valentine. Know that he has the best damn date of your life planned, filled with all your favourite things (which really was him and wherever he was) and a healthy dose of his thick arms locking over your shoulders as he forces you back into his chest.

He’s sweet… but a man like Emmett forgets how big he truly is

• Rosalie’s a hard woman to romance — you love a good chase, you’re no better than a man really and maybe it’s the fact that your mother never approved of any of your achievements or that you grew in a cold house with sparse affection but she’s sweet honey to your gaping wound. Soothing you with every drip drip drip of soft she is. So you do the romancing, plan the trip to the local volunteer centre with young children in need of external socialisation and after ask her to show you how the engine of her favourite car works and all its parts. She rolls her eyes but you see the soft twitch of her lips and the fondness in her gaze.

So yes, you put in some hard work but so does she. She’s soft and gentle with you and she whispers how much she appreciates all the effort you put into that day against your lips… after calling you out for staring at her under the car hood with your mouth agape

• Carlisle is all but your older rich husband but with actual benefits too. He’s traditional in most senses, he’s planning the date and paying for anything that it requires. If you travel, he drives. There’s a door, he’s opening it. The difference between him and ‘traditional’ men? He cares. And this February 14th is as good as any other with him, catered to everything you love, sweet and soft with candlelight and roses.

He loves making you happy, he claims, and you believe him but if you show him just how appreciative you are at the end of the night… well, who is he to complain?

• Edward’s somehow cohabiting both ‘unsure lover’ and ‘yeah. I know you. Why’re you surprised?’. Well, don’t know Ed, not like you can read minds. He’s sweet, he’s always sweet in some awkwardly charming sort of way and the way he wines and dines you is no different than that exactly. A nice, odd concoction of everything about him you love. Including his silly little tendency to still do human things. Yeah, he’s actually taken you out to eat and he’s actually staring pretty creepily in your eyes and through to your soul. You find you don’t really mind when you catch why he’s honing in on you, hanging onto your every word

• Jasper “from the south” Hale isn’t wasting a damn second when you suggest going line dancing. He hasn’t danced in a good long while and he’s rusty and he can’t teach you when you ask him too; you thought it was perfect timing. You’re both clumsy on your feet when you start the night off but he gains his footing quick and honestly, you kinda just wanna watch him dance and drool in the corner as though he wasn’t taking you home tonight and was a mere fever dream, lost to the winds. The smirk curling his lips tells you he knows exactly what’s you’re feeling

• Esme, the little sweetheart, asks if you want to bake with her and then binge medically realistic hospital shows. You’re about to propose something a little more inclusive, without food and coughing patients but she looks so hopeful and honestly, you don’t care what you do if it’s with her. So you bake, she enjoys the sweet aroma of fresh baked cookies and you eat your (her, really) masterpiece. The show is paused and unpaused between on topic banter or questions, you cuddled under her arm with her head under your chin and it’s a perfect representation of your relationship all around. Pure and tender

• Poly!Cullens make it all about you. You’re so young and fresh to the world and you need to be shown the importance of love and understanding and unconditional companionship.

They’ve all had their moments over the years, will have their moments again in the years to come but for now they’ll teach you the truth of love without expectance. Whatever you want, you all can find a way to participate somehow, someway.

Though, you jest, should probably keep the hearts under wraps. Wouldn’t wanna set off any vampires!

~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

P.s. I know valentines is usually considered romantic but I want to remind those without external romance right now that self romance is just as precious. Do something nice for yourself! You’re very loved <3

[fafnir19]

His Style

The bustling city streets buzzed with an energy that Zayne usually detested. Fashion Week had descended upon the metropolis, bringing with it a flurry of glamorous events, extravagant parties, and a never-ending parade of models and fashionistas. Zayne, a young businessman in his mid-twenties, found himself caught in the midst of this chaotic spectacle, his annoyance growing with each passing moment. He had always prided himself on his conservative corporate style, and the flamboyant displays of fashion were a stark contrast to his taste. With an important business meeting looming, Zayne knew he needed to look his best.

His usual barber, a reliable and traditional man, was fully booked due to the influx of fashion-conscious clients. Finally, he spotted a high-end barbershop, the kind that radiated exclusivity. A glimmer of hope ignited in his chest. He stepped inside, the bell chiming above him, and was immediately assaulted by the smell of aftershave and hair products.

A man with a calm demeanor approached him, an vest wrapped around his waist. “Welcome! I’m Jason. How can I assist you today?”

“I need a cut,” Zayne replied curtly. “Something classic. Slicked back. I have an important meeting.” He crossed his arms, trying to project authority despite the nagging doubts in his mind. Jason raised an eyebrow, assessing him. “You know, with your features, you could easily pull off a more modern look. Shorter on the sides, a bit messy on top. It’s all the rage right now.” “Pass,” Zayne shot back, his annoyance creeping back. “I want it slicked back. Classic. Like a businessman, not a fashion model.” He had always been particular about his appearance, especially since he was on the skinnier side and often felt he needed to compensate for his boyish looks. A tall, muscular build and a commanding presence were what he strived for, but no matter how hard he worked out, he couldn't seem to achieve the bulky, alpha-male physique he desired. The barber chuckled softly. “I work a lot in the model industry. You’ve got a handsome face, you know. Ever thought about modeling?” Zayne scoffed, shaking his head. “Not a chance. I’m a businessman, not some runway clown.” “Suit yourself,” Jason said, shrugging slightly, his tone light. “But you really should consider it. You’ve got a lot of potential.” Zayne rolled his eyes, sinking into the barber chair. “Yeah, right,” Zayne scoffed, running a hand through his dark brown slicked-back hair, a recent dye job to cover his natural blond. “I’m here to look alpha, not prance around like some runway peacock.” He had always wanted to appear older and more mature, believing it would make him more attractive to potential partners. The idea of being a sugar daddy to a beautiful younger woman had a certain allure, and he had gone to great lengths to transform his image.

The barber shrugged, moving to wash Zayne’s hair. The warm water cascaded down his scalp, and Zayne felt the tension in his shoulders begin to melt away. He closed his eyes, letting the soothing sensation wash over him, the sound of water lulling him deeper into relaxation.

“Just try to stay awake, alright?” Jason murmured, his voice a low hum in the background. Zayne felt himself drifting, the world around him fading into shadows. He barely noticed when the barber began to speak again, his words a gentle whisper. “Don’t you want to try something new? I could make you look great. Just trust me,” Jason said, his tone persuasive. “Yeah, maybe,” Zayne mumbled, his mind hazy as the rhythmic motions of the wash lulled him further. “Give me free rein,” Jason continued, “and I promise you’ll look fantastic.” “Yeah, just do what you see fit,” Zayne replied, almost dreamily. With that, the barber set to work, cutting Zayne’s hair shorter on the sides and creating a messy top. He felt the scissors snipping away, but it all felt so distant, like he was watching from afar. The buzz and chatter of the shop faded into white noise as Jason guided him through the transformation. “Now, let’s freshen up that face of yours,” Jason said, pulling out a can of shaving foam. “You’ll look so much better without that stubble.” “I don’t know…” Zayne hesitated, the words escaping his lips with little resistance. “Trust me!” Jason replied, his voice firm yet coaxing. He began lathering Zayne’s face with the foam, the scent intoxicating. Zayne’s thoughts swirled as the razor glided smoothly over his skin. Each stroke felt like a gentle caress, pulling him deeper into a trance.

As Jason worked, something unexpected happened. The dark color of Zayne’s hair began to fade, revealing his natural golden locks. Zayne didn’t realize it was happening, too caught up in the sensation of the shave, the foam, and Jason’s voice. “Your strong pecs would look better shaved too,” Jason remarked with a casual confidence. Zayne nodded, still in that pliable state. The barber’s hands moved skillfully, and soon, Zayne’s tie was discarded, and his crisp white shirt was unbuttoned. Another barber joined in, helping to shave Zayne’s upper body and pit hairs, leaving him smooth as a newborn. Every stroke of the razor felt liberating, as if layers of his former self were being peeled away. “Look at you, a true work of art,” Jason said with satisfaction, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Zayne felt a thrill at the compliment, still lost in the haze of relaxation. Finally, they dressed him in a baby blue silk shirt that hung loosely, undone to reveal Zayne’s newly smooth upper body. Jason handed him an espresso, the bitter jolt of caffeine bringing him back to a semi-conscious state. Zayne's eyes fluttered open, and he stared at his reflection in the mirror, his jaw dropping in shock. He looked so different, his boyish features accentuated by the new haircut and shave. His golden blond hair and smooth skin gave him a youthful glow, and the silk shirt draped perfectly over his toned body. Gone was the commanding businessman he had envisioned. Instead, he stared at a boyish model staring back, all soft edges and youthful charm.

“What the hell?” he gasped. “I look like a kid!” “Perfect for the runway!” Jason chimed, a proud smile on his face. “Runway? No, no way.” Zayne’s heart raced as he tried to process the transformation. “I can’t go to my meeting like this!” Before he could continue his tirade, the door swung open with a flourish and a stylish woman entered, her confidence radiating.  She was in her fifties but tried hard to maintain a youthful appearance, with perfectly sculpted hair and designer clothes that clung to her form.

“Donata, right in time! I’m just finishing up with the new replacement model!” Jason beamed, gesturing dramatically toward Zayne. “Ah, Jason, you’ve done it again! This one is perfect for the show!” Donata’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she approached Zayne, watching him like a piece of art. Zayne’s protests fell on deaf ears as she circled him, inspecting every inch. "You, my dear," she said, leaning closer, "are going to be the talk of the town. With that face and body, you’ll walk the runway like a dream. And I’ll pay you handsomely for it." Zayne clenched his fists at his sides. "I don’t care about your money..." he began, but Donata cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Ten thousand dollars for one show!" A silence enveloped the room as Zayne's mind raced. Ten thousand? His anger began to dissipate, replaced by the allure of the hefty sum. "How much? Ten thousand?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. Donata beamed, her enthusiasm infectious. "Exactly! Just imagine what you could do with that kind of money. Think of the opportunities!" Zayne shifted on his feet, torn between his desire for respect in the business world and the magnetic pull of easy cash. "Fine," he finally muttered, resignation creeping into his tone. "I’ll do it. But only this once." Jason clapped his hands together, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "This is going to be fun. You’ll be the star of the show!"

The runway lights illuminated the catwalk, casting a radiant glow upon the models strutting their stuff. Among them, Zayne, with his freshly cut and styled hair, exuded an air of confidence that belied his initial reluctance. He stood backstage, heart racing as he adjusted the baby blue silk shirt that hung open, revealing the smooth contours of his newly shaved torso. As he stepped out into the spotlight, a wave of applause rolled over him, and Zayne forced a smile, his heart racing. His eyes, a deep ocean blue, sparkled under the stage lights, capturing the audience's attention.

The crowd's murmurs turned into whispers of admiration as he sauntered down the runway, his gait graceful and powerful. He owned the stage, his presence commanding yet effortlessly cool. Donata watched from the sidelines, her eyes fixed on Zayne with an intensity that bordered on obsession. She had an eye for talent, and in Zayne, she saw raw potential—a blank canvas she couldn't wait to paint with her creative vision. She knew she had to secure Zayne as her muse, the embodiment of her creative spirit.

As the show ended, she approached Zayne backstage, her steps purposeful. "You were magnificent out there," she purred, her voice smooth as silk. "A true revelation." Zayne forced a smile, still grappling with the transformation that had transpired. “I’m just here for the money, Donata. This isn’t my scene.” “Oh, but it could be!” she chimed, brushing his arm lightly. “You have that rare quality—something so captivating. I must have you as my muse!” He shook his head, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not interested in being a model. I don’t want to be a trophy boy.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Just think about it! You, on the cover of magazines, walking runways all over the world! Imagine the doors this could open for you. The connections, the money!” “It’s tempting, but I love my business,” he insisted, though it lacked conviction. “Just one more show, the grand finale,” Donata pressed, her eyes narrowing, as if she could see through his façade. “You’ll earn even more, and I promise you’ll enjoy it. Just one last walk, Zayne.” With a resigned sigh, he replied, “Fine. Just this once.” “Excellent! You won’t regret it,” she beamed, her enthusiasm infectious.

Some days later, as the final show approached, Zayne found himself back in Jason's barbershop chair, the familiar scent of razor foam filling the air. “Ready for your close-up, Zayne?” he teased, a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, I guess so.” Zayne felt a strange mixture of anxiety and anticipation. “Just relax,” Jason instructed as he began to shave Zayne’s face, the razor gliding smoothly over his skin.

“You’re going to look incredible.” As the blade touched his skin, Zayne felt an odd sense of tranquility wash over him. The hum of the razor was oddly soothing, and he found himself drifting, his mind hazy. “You are a great model,” Jason murmured, the words wrapping around Zayne like a warm blanket. “Yeah…” Zayne replied, almost dreamlike. “So inspiring,” Jason whispered, his voice smooth and soothing. “Yeah,” Zayne murmured, feeling the world outside fade away. The hum of the salon, the distant chatter of stylists, all became a soft backdrop to Jason’s voice. “It would be a shame to waste your potential,” Jason continued, his hands skillfully gliding over Zayne’s face. The sensation of the razor was comforting, almost hypnotic. “Yeah,” Zayne nodded, his eyelids growing heavy. “You’re so inspiring for Donata. You make her feel young again!” Jason's tone was enticing, almost melodic. “But … I’m … not a boy toy,” Zayne protested weakly, the words slipping out as if they belonged to someone else. “You are Donata’s muse!” Jason pressed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t you want to explore something new? Want to feel how it is to let yourself fall? Let Donata lead!” Zayne stammered, caught in a haze. “Yeah... muse.” “Perfect,” Jason purred, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as the final stroke of the razor revealed Zayne’s smooth skin. “You’re ready to take the runway by storm.” Zayne blinked, a flicker of awareness returning as he glanced at himself in the mirror once more. The boyish model grinned back at him, and a strange sense of anticipation surged within him. The crowd would soon roar, and under the spotlight, he would be reborn. “Let’s go show them what you’ve got,” Jason said, placing a hand on Zayne’s shoulder, guiding him forward.

As the grand finale approached, Zayne stepped out onto the runway, clad in a baby blue groom's suit with a flowing silk capelet. The audience erupted in applause as he struck a pose, his eyes exuding a newfound confidence.

He embodied the essence of Donata's designs, becoming the living, breathing embodiment of her vision. At the after-party, Zayne found himself at the center of attention, Donata by his side. She introduced him to industry elites, her hand resting proudly on his shoulder. Zayne felt a strange sense of ownership as he was paraded around, but he couldn't deny the thrill of being the center of attention.

As the night wore on, Zayne's inhibitions lowered with each glass of champagne. He felt a surge of desire as he watched Donata's graceful movements, her eyes sparkling with mischief. In a moment of boldness, he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her waist. She took the opportunity and their lips met in a passionate kiss, the guests around them erupting in cheers and whistles. Zayne's mind became a blur as  Donata kissed him, the taste of champagne and desire mingling on their tongues. He heard Jason's voice in his head, a distant echo—"model... smooth... muse... boyish... boy toy..."—and it sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. His cock hardened, pressing against the silk fabric of his suit. He was aware of the eyes on him, the whispers, but he didn't care. He was lost in the sensation, in the realization that he was desired, not for his intellect or business acumen, but for his looks, his body. The kiss deepened, and Zayne felt himself surrendering to the moment, to the role he had been given. He was a living mannequin, a canvas for Donata's creative vision. As their tongues danced, he accepted his new identity, the identity of a muse, a boyish model, and a possession of Donata's.

The next morning, Zayne awoke in Donata's mansion, the sun streaming through the windows. He felt different, lighter, as if a transformation had taken place while he slept. He rose, his movements fluid, and grabbed a pair of skimpy briefs and a silk bathrobe, the same shade of baby blue as the suit he had worn the night before. As he stepped out onto the patio, the morning sun caressed his skin, warming him. He stretched, his muscles flexing, and he knew he was exactly what Donata wanted—a living, breathing work of art. He would do as she asked, as long as it meant he could continue to look and feel this way.

Unbeknownst to Zayne, Jason had arrived at the mansion, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched Zayne from a distance. He approached Donata, his voice low and conspiratorial. "When you're ready to move on, just give me a sign. I'll turn him gay, make him mine. A pretty boy like that, I can't resist." Donata smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He's quite the catch, isn't he? But for now, he's mine. I'll let you know when I'm done playing with my new toy." Jason chuckled, a hint of anticipation in his voice. "I'll be waiting. Just remember, he's a special one. I can make him even more... pliable."

As they spoke, Zayne, oblivious to their plans, basked in the sun, his mind clear and his body relaxed. He was content, for now, to be Donata's muse, her boy-toy, a role that brought him a luxury he had never known before. Little did he know, his fate was not entirely his own, and the whispers of 'model... smooth... muse...pretty boy' would continue to shape his path, leading him further into a world of fashion, desire, and hidden agendas.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

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

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

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 🫡

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

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement. - yeah because he’s pretty

more below 🥰💕

“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 🤭

“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?

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!

“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!

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. - HES SO CUTE STOP!!!

“But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar. - GOODBYE 404’ing

…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

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

You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left - HOT HOT HOT LEFTIE

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 🥰)

Bradley hooks a foot under your stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. - oh hell yes

“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

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

You like saying his name too much to shorten it. - i love this so much awwww

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!

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!!

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

“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

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!!!

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT! (one might even say progressive)

��𝐡𝐚𝐭 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!!!

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!

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[mikurulucky]

So, apparently, Kei Tomiyama had a music single of some sort in 1979 with two music tracks. One of the voices of my f/o (and my favorite va of his at that) could actually sing??

I'm... almost too nervous to actually listen to it. One of the songs did end up on youtube.... I don't think my heart can take it. o//.//o

[welcometogrouchland]

my Stephanie Brown hot take is that she should get mad bitches now that she's single in comics. Yes yes shipping BUT the one time she had sex she was punished by the narrative via teen pregnancy. I think she should be allowed to have as much sex as she wants with zero consequences. Could be a lot of sex, could be a little. Point is she should get to do it without getting narratively baby trapped this time. she should get them pregnant, actually.