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syrenqinche · 3 days ago

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I don't know, You tell me ~ Sylus

synopsis: Sylus is usually a very patient man but when you overstep your boundaries and make him reel with jealousy, you are in for the angst of your life, soothed over by some mind-blowing lovemaking.

content and warnings: smut, mdni! jealousy, miscommunication, possessive Sylus, angsty themes, silent treatment, teasing, provoking, p in v, org*sm denial, makeup s*x, dacryphilia, size kink, swearing

"My baby dragon." you type into your phone as a smile curves onto your lips. "Breakfast is ready, wanna come eat?"

*sent*

On alternate Sundays, the two of you take turns to make each other your favorite breakfast dishes. It was your turn today, and you had prepared a hearty meal for your boyfriend, the famed leader of Onichynus for the good people of the N109 Zone, but an adorable plushie for you, your beloved Sylus.

You wait for him to reply to your text or his heavy footsteps to descend the spiral staircase of his lavish condo, but none of it happens. You lean against the counter, watching the steam emanate from your freshly cooked dishes.

"Y/N?" you hear the sound of your name, but it isn't a deep, velvety voice saying it. It's Kieran.

"Oh, hey" you give Kieran a nervous smile. "Where's the bossman?"

"Oh, he-" Kieran's face is obstructed by his crow mask but you could tell he is panicking. "He left for work a while ago. Um, he won't be back until after lunch."

You furrow your brows at the boy. "What? He didn't tell me before going though. And what work on Sunday?" to which Kieran simply shrugs.

You turn your attention back to your phone and send him another text.

"Is everything alright, baby. Where are you??"

You see a *read* pop-up beside your message, but no reply following it.

You try to ignore the knot forming in your stomach. Normally, Sylus would respond right away—whether it was with a quick "I love you" or a silly comment about the breakfast you made for him. The fact that he hasn’t bothered to even text you back feels… wrong. It’s not like him. From the corner of your eye, you notice Kieran has started to fidget.

"You know something, don't you?" you narrow your eyes at the perplexed boy but he simply raises his hands. "I don't! Anyway, gotta run an errand. See ya, Y/N!" he blurts out, fleeing from the scene and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your appetite is gone now from anxiety pulling up in your abdomen, and you leave the spread you've made untouched and decide to unwind in the shower. You can't stop thinking about it and keep checking your phone every 5 minutes like a maniac to see if there are any updates from him. Heck, you even check the local news to see if anything is really up.

Time goes by like a snail on a journey and by the time the clock strikes 3 PM, you're exhausted from worrying.

You're laying on the bed, hopeless and shaky when the door to your room creaks open. You jump up and sit on your bed as Sylus enters the room, removing his leather jacket and placing his motorcycle helmet on one of the dressers.

"Where have you been?" you demand, slightly irritated. "And why haven't you been replying?"

Sylus uncuffs his sleeves and runs a hand through his light hair, heading towards the bath.

"I'm asking you something!" you raise your voice slightly, in case he somehow managed to miss what you said.

"Just busy." he replies shortly, voice devoid of much emotion.

Before he can shut himself in the bathroom, though, you get off the bed and run up to him frantically.

"Sylus, what's wrong, baby? Did I do something? You need to use your words." you say, holding on to his large arm with both of your shaky ones. He looks at you apprehensively and opens his mouth to say something.

Your phone cuts through the heavy air with three loud dings. You turn to look at it, and it starts ringing.

"I don't know, you tell me, Y/N." Sylus gives you a pained smirk as he removes his arm from your grasp and locks the bathroom door on your face.

He used my name. Not kitten, not sweetie, not honey! you think to yourself. It rarely happens that Sylus would resort to using your name. He adores you so much that he would come up with the cutest nicknames to call you.

You are stunned for a second and bite the inside of your cheek fervently on your way back to check your phone.

It's your hopeless, idiotic childhood friend spamming you again.

"Heyyy you uggo."

"Y'all reached home alright yesterday? you were pretty drunk, thank god your boyfriend came along to pick you up."

"Also what's with him, he's even bigger than me?? Also he looked like he wanted to strangle me?? WTF!!"

You sigh after reading the texts and start tapping away on your phone.

"Don't talk shit about him or I'll block you, Caleb. He's the most adorable person when you get to know him better."

you smile to yourself when you remember how your opinion of Sylus had transitioned when you got to know him better. You can't really blame Caleb here.

"Also, I reached home fine. Thanks for calling me, our class reunion went great. I wasn't hungover this morning, though, so was I even really that drunk?"

Caleb sent you a few thinking emojis.

"You were drunk enough to confess to me."

You almost dropped your phone when you read that. You didn't want to waste time texting, so you hit call. The phone rings twice before Caleb picks up.

"Hello?"

"Care to explain?" you hiss at him. "The fuckk are you talking about?"

"Oh calm down." Caleb dismissed you. "You were showing us a picture of your boyfriend, and the girls started swooning over him with endless praise to give."

"And?" you prod

"And well one of them asked what you'd do if the guy ever left you or broke up."

"He'd never-"

"Yes, let me finish." Caleb hissed back. "You told them you'd never do that and then perhaps as a joke, you mentioned that if he did, you'd hook up with and marry me, who had asked you out when we were little kids."

"You're right." you admit. "I certainly must have been drunk because what the hell, Caleb?"

"I know right!" Caleb feigned disgut but his voice sounded a little offended. "And that's when Mr. brooding handsome walked in. I think he just heard the last part. He looked taken aback, I'm not sure anyone else noticed because they were too busy gushing over how hot he was."

"Wait, Sylus heard what I rambled about?" you ask just to make sure. "He heard that I'd leave him and hook up with you?"

"Perhaps, that's my guess." Caleb acknowledges.

You feel as if someone had poured cold water on your head. It made sense now!

"Well thanks, mate. I needed this information. Talk to you later."

"But will you really marry me-"

you cut the call before he could finish.

Right on cue, Sylus exits the bath, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and another one being used to dry his dripping hair. He doesn't make eye contact with you as he heads to the closet to look for a set of clothes to change into.

You approach him and run a finger down his wet back, making him curve it slightly at the stimulus.

"My baby..." you coo at him, hugging him from behind.

"You'll get yourself wet." he states, not turning around.

"Since when have you been afraid of getting me wet." you smirk, digging your face into his wide back.

"Let go," he mutters, his voice flat, as he attempts to pull away from your arms. But this time, you refuse to let go.

"Sylus, I'm sorry," you whisper, burying your nose into the warmth of his back. "I know what happened... it was a misunderstanding. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

At your words, he finally turns to face you. His crimson eyes burn with a mix of disappointment and hurt, and the sight nearly shatters you. It’s all you can do not to break down in front of him.

"You wouldn't be saying such things if you hadn't been thinking about them. Alcohol brings out people's true nature, sweetheart."

"I wasn’t thinking about it!" you protest desperately, the words tumbling out in a rush. "The girls were teasing me, and I just wanted to show them that you’d never leave me. The thought of it is so absurd that I could joke about marrying Caleb—because it wouldn’t happen!"

His gaze hardens, and his next words land like a heavy blow. "You know how I feel about being abandoned, don’t you, Y/N?"

Your heart skips a beat. "That wasn’t my intention! Please, just—"

"Forget it." he cuts you off. "I don’t want to hear it. Humans are vile creatures. They’ll shower you with love, only to rip it away in an instant, leaving you broken and bleeding." His words are heavy with old scars as he turns away, his figure retreating from you.

"Sylus, wait—" You try reaching out, but he doesn’t look back. He won’t listen.

"I need time alone. Sorry," he says without pause, his voice distant as he walks out, leaving you standing in the quiet emptiness of your ornate bedroom.

You cling on to the hope that maybe Sylus will come back. You did apologize after all. He'll surely come back by night. He will forgive you. Surely, right?

You lay on the cold sheets, eyes wide open, staring at the intricate patterns on the ceiling of your beautiful bedroom, completely devoid of sleep. His huge bed seems to have tripled in size when he's not there, entangled with you, pressing fluttering kisses to your stomach.

When you wake up the next morning, groggy from absolute lack of sleep, and head downstairs, you find the house deserted.

You feel a chill run up your spine but remind yourself that it is Monday and you need to head to the Hunter's Association Office for the day's work.

On the way there, you text him.

"Have a good day, Sy. How are you feeling now? See you in the evening?"

*read*

The day goes by, and you return to a cold, dark house.

Caleb calls to check on you, but you're too restless to answer. Your nerves are frayed, and the phone just sits in your hand, silent. Another sleepless night drags on.

"Sylus, I'm scared," you text him again, your fingers trembling as you type. The thought of him not replying makes your chest tighten. You stare at the screen, willing him to respond. Ten minutes feel like hours before your phone finally chimes.

"The house is secured. No harm will come to you."

Another long night passes. Then another endless day, filled with battles against wanderers and endless paperwork, all while you’re haunted by the emptiness in the space where he should be.

This time when you pass through the door to the house, you slump to the ground, shaking and your chest heaving. You hear a crow's caw in the distance as you will yourself to get up and drag yourself to the bedroom. You're already looking chalkier than before thanks to barely eating or sleeping these past three days.

You hug your knees close as you check your phone again. This time you don't text him and hit the call button.

He picks up in three rings.

"I miss you." you tell him only to be met by silence.

"Please, I miss you. I can't do this, Sylus." you hear his footsteps, going somewhere but no reply.

"Do you really hate me that much now?" you ask with a quivering voice.

"Can I enter?" he speaks finally and you hear a soft knock on your door. You gasp as the phone drops out of your hand and the door swings open, revealing an uncharacteristically disheveled Sylus, who rushes over to you, removing his coat.

Your stomach turns as he wraps his arms around you.

"I can never hate you and you know that." His soft tone is back as his lips move over the shell of your ear. You grab onto his shirt so hard, fisting balls of fabric as if he will disappear again if you let go.

"Mephisto has been monitoring you for days and reporting back to me. I never once left you unattended."

"I-I'm s-sorry. I'm really sorry. I never meant to make you feel abandoned. You know-" tears pool up in your eyes.

"Shhh, sweetie." he presses a long finger to your fluttering lips.

"I'm sorry, I went too far." he says, pressing his forehead to yours. "If you're able to forgive me, let me make it up to you."

Something sparks inside your brain and you stop crying instantly.

"You-" you pull at his hair. "You stupid, gullible, annoying little-"

"Ah, ah, ah! my hair." Sylus lets out a mock scream, holding your wrists.

"I hate you, Sylus." you climb on top of his crotch and pin him flat to the bed.

"Do you really think that low of me?" you ask, roughly grabbing his chin with three of your fingers. He looks at you with his red eyes widening with excitement and astonishment. "Do you think I'd ever able to fall in love with another man after meeting you?" you demand, twisting his chin.

"Do you think I can ever sleep with someone else after getting a taste of you, you demonic little dragon!"

"I know, I know, kitten." he starts but you cut him off by pinching his lips shut and sinking down on him, your lips a mere inch from his. Sylus parts them in anticipation but the kiss he so fervently desires never comes. He bucks himself up to smooch you but you retract your body, making him slump down in defeat and irritation.

"Please?" He asks, his deep voice getting deeper with lust.

You don't reply.

"Please, Y/N? I need you so bad. It's been four days now." he begs, narrowing his eyes. You had just made love the night before that incident and unbeknownst to you, both of you were yearning for each others touch in merely a couple of days.

"I don't know. I heard you but I'm not going to answer!" you tease him, crossing your hands across your chest. "Really?" He raises a brow as he grabs you by the wrist and brings you down over him yet again, the wet trail of tears on your cheek transferring to his face now.

He kisses you like a starved animal, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He cages your head with his hands and doesn't let you resurface for air until your lust gets the best of you and you begin to roll your hips over his crotch in languid circles.

"F-fuck." he gasps, breaking the kiss and looking down to where your body meets his. You kiss him deeper to take his attention away from your lower bodies and simulatenously, you unzip his pants, feeling his bulge grow and threaten to burst from under his briefs. You massage it gratefully and tenderly as it squirms in your hands.

"Excited now, are we?" you purr at him, separating your lips from his while a link of saliva keeps the two of you connected. You kiss his nose.

"It's getting so big, why does it feel like it's bigger than my hand." You take one look underneath you and his angry pink tip is poking out his briefs at this point, pointing at you with desperation in its color.

"Oh, Sylus~"

"Enough now." Sylus snaps, suddenly rising from his position and gripping your hips to flip your positions. He greedily pulls down your panties and holds each of your legs in his robust hands to pin them close to your ears, letting your knees fall on his shoulders for some support with your dress riding up and bunching underneath your sore breasts.

He licks his lips as he eyes your leaking pussy.

"What is this?" He purrs back at you. "And you said I'm excited?" he plunges a finger into you as it makes a loud squelching noise, making your hands race to you hold his one hand in both of yours.

"W-wait."

"If you don't want this, I'll stop." He states darkly.

You blush and pout at him.

"I wanted the cock..."

Something clicks in Sylus' head as his eyes start gleaming with a rush of excitement.

"Getting greedy, aren't we?" He says, freeing his grown manhood from the confines of his boxers. He strokes it a few times to prep it for its grand entrance.

"Nghh.. hurry!" you squeal, trying to grab at his cock from your vulnerable position but he catches your hands mid-journey.

"Calm down." He grins at you, rubbing your slimy clit with his bulbous tip.

"I've waited enough." you tear up. "I've waited for days! For you to even look at me again."

"You really want it that bad kitten?" he asks, his expression twisting into one of pride as he towers over you.

"I want it, I want it so much. I want all of it!" you moan out as he pushes the tip inside your wet hole and brings it out, earning a whine from you.

"Hmm...?" he cocks his head to the side, continue to glide his tip over your clit as you fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You wouldn't be able to, when Sylus is holding your thighs next to your head and your hands in his tight one-handed grasp.

He uses the thumb of his other hand to rub circles on your clit while he swipes his tip up and down your nether lips, humming to himself. It feels so good, you feel a bubble grow inside your stomach.

"Oh god, I-" you gasp. But right before the bubble could burst, Sylus retracts himself completely and you widen your eyes at him.

"What did you just-"

"I don't know, kitten. Couldn't give you your high for free when you plan to marry someone else, now, can I?" he smirks at you as you tear up even more.

"N-no! Put it back!"

Sylus leans over and presses his tongue to your clit before your high can completely fade away.

"Yes! Yeah, like that!" you scream as flicks your sensitive nub and continues to hum, sending explosive pulsations throughout your nerves.

"Oh, oh! Sy-"

And then he retracts again.

This time, you fight against his grasp to grab his neck. But he's too big. Too strong.

He merely chuckles at your weak attempts to free yourself.

"Seriously, fuck you!" you screech at him. "Fuck you, Sylus."

"Ahaha, look at my angry little kitten. I love to tame you like this." He smiles at you with love but you just want him to fuck the brains out of you right now. You wriggle enough of your hand out of his grasp to start rubbing yourself but he is quick to notice.

"There, there." he pushes your hand back into his iron hold.

"Fine kitten, let me make sure you forget someone by the name of 'Caleb' even exists."

With that he finally puts his cock into your weeping hole, halfway. I-it won't fit just yet, earning an explosive gasp from you. Sylus cocks an eyebrow at you.

"T-too big." you manage to say.

"Oh, do I-"

"No!" you protest. "More. I want all of it. Put it all in. It's mine. Only mine."

"Look at you, sweetie. Sure you can take all of it? have my doubts." he teases but you are determined.

"I'm leaking all over the bed, now's the chance, Sy." you reassure him and with a smooth motion, he puts in his entire length into making you see the stars. It takes you a few seconds to come back to Earth when he finally starts moving. He's fully folded you into a mating press now, his sweat dripping onto your chest as he grunts and groans, his tip hitting your cervix at this point.

"More! I want more!" you say as if it was even possible to take in more but it just motivates Sylus to increase his pace and intensity. His wet hair now sticking to yours as he doubles down.

You feel your orgasm building up again with each powerful thrust of his.

"Remind me, who do you belong to?" he rasps, nearing his own high.

"That stupid fuckface. I'll bury him alive if I see hiim again."

"Sy-Sylus!" you scream, your insides tingling and your walls pulsating around his girth. "You! I only belong to you! I'm all yours!"

"That's right kitten." he growls. "You're only mine." with this he picks you up and place you onto his lap, pounding up into you hopelessly. With a near feral moan, you come undone on him and he follows after soon, shooting copious amounts of his seed right into you. The both of you rasp and gasp as you come down from your respective highs, pressing your foreheads together.

He doesn't pull out even when his cock goes soft and you smile sheepishly as you kiss his eyelids.

"My dragon. Only mine..."

You place a final kiss on his lips, chaste yet loving. Sylus looks at you like you're his entire world.

"If you pull this shit again baby." you warn him, keeping steady eye contact. "No sex for you for the next six months."

He gives you his signature smirk. "I'll just marry Caleb then." he says making you roll your eyes at him and punch his shoulder as the two of you giggle and pull the blanket over your heads.

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kingofthewilderwest · 6 hours ago

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I feel like I have, sort of. It's been over a decade and I've been in a fever dream since. What happened? I don't know. I don't know how I don't know.

There were multiple bookstores on the downtown street, several big, and all delightful. I was walking through downtown on my way to the usual used bookstore I visited. This place was a treasure, one of those used bookstores where the shopfront looks tiny, but you step inside and it runs deep; there's rows and rows and rows of books in invitingly dark niches, every shelf stuffed to max capacity, and then mountains of books stacked every which way on all other space—book skyscrapers conquering the limited floor real estate, book stacks climbing up the desk where the employee would take your card, book stacks morphing into the shelf so you hardly knew where the shelf ended and the freeform stacks began—the ultimate organized, chaotic clutter of books, books, books. You never knew what you'd find, but the books ran heady and obscure, a delightful deep-dive of knowledge.

But on my way, a man beckoned me to an unassuming door. I'd seen the door before, I think, but it'd always been a locked mystery. It was on the main street filled with store fronts, but it might've been squeaked between two buildings. There was another store cheek-and-jowl next to it, so it had to be a tiny sliver of real estate. It was a regular door and there was no accompanying storefront to show you what was inside. Just a door, and on it, the name of the store. Another bookshop, allegedly. Allegedly, again, because that door was easy to miss, and because I'd never seen anyone go in or out of it or seen signs of life that you could go in and out of it.

Today was different. This man, he beckoned me in. The door, it was opened to me.

And inside was a bookstore six times the size I thought it could be. Books displayed in inviting stacks on tables in the front. Bookshelves snaking about the interior, all in their eclectic order. Books climbing up the walls to the ceiling. The interior was cramped and maze-ish, but, at the same time, it was vast.

I didn't see all the books at once, but therein lay the magic of it. Every time I thought I'd seen more books than I could expect, I came across another passage that opened into another area. The books climbing to the walls could be accessed by a staircase to a second floor. A second floor! Here? How?! The entire way up to the second floor: books covering each inch. And then you'd turn and there was the final room, books again covering every inch. Lots of old books—not trashy, but those types of heavy, beautiful, rare treasures.

It was enchanting.

It was so enchanting, in fact, that I feel like the bookstore upright disappeared after I left it.

Not just the bookstore.

But the door.

The damn door.

Disappeared.

In this city that I'd been living in years, on a street I'd been shopping for years and knew every inch of.

I kept looking for that door on the way to the used bookstore I usually went to. I kept saying, "Well, it's an easy door to miss." I'd keep peering at the nooks and crannies between buildings, thinking, "It was this intersection, right? Or did I remember wrong?" I never... saw that door again. I never went into that bookstore again.

I don't have dreams that are realistic and can be mistaken for reality. I'm a vanilla person who doesn't even consume coffee, let alone something that could make me trip.

What the heck happened? What did I remember wrong? Because I had to have remembered something wrong—where the door was, what building it was, what it looked like inside, something, something, something! My mind vividly tells me where the door is, but there's no door there! There's! No! Door! There! There's no door anywhere up and down that street in the vague vicinity of where I was teleported away to this fucking fae-ass bookstore.

I looked for years, guys! I have looked for years trying to refind just the door!

It's a mystery that's nagged me for over a decade, and it'll nag me for decades more.

yeah libraries are cool but have you ever found a library with a secret doorway disguised as a bookshelf that leads to a smaller, hidden library filled with ancient books full of mysteries and forgotten knowledge? me neither and i'm sad about it

#blabbing Haddock #sorry unsolicited storytime #it's probably just 'haddock is dumb' is the answer but #whatever it is was the closest thing I've gotten to a magical fae bookworld encounter idkkkk wtf #and I am comfuzzled and bumboggled every time I think about it #secret doorway living to a library world #I was kidnapped by fae #should've bought a book so I could physically touch it and prove to myself 'this was real'#because wtf

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fuctacles · 3 days ago

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A gorgeous man walks into a dressing room

for @genderthings Eddie's Gender Week prompt "stage" Steddie | T | 1125 | genderqueer/gender non conforming Eddie | famous Eddie, hair stylist (and drag queen) Steve, first meeting, pre-relationship

The new hair stylist walks in on Eddie applying lipstick. Kudos to him, he takes it in stride, placing his bag on the clean area in front of one of the mirrors.

"The doors were open, so I hope it's okay I just walked in," he says with a tilt of a question in his voice.

Eddie hums, focused on sharpening the edges around his lips.

"I'm the new hair stylist, Steve Harrington," the guy introduces himself. "You must be Eddie, right?"

"Ah-hah," Eddie makes an affirmative sound.

"How can I refer to you?"

"Just Eddie is okay, but if you want to keep it more professional, something like chief or captain is fine. Do not call me boss," Eddie says, moving away from the mirror to gauge the symmetry and not happy with the results so far.

"No, I mean, do you want to be addressed as a guy? Or something different."

Eddie sometimes forgets that he's in the creative field now, and a lot of other people he meets are more open to gender fuckery and general LGBT themes. They finally look at the new guy, someone they'd usually dismiss as gorgeous but straight, if not for the pearl necklace around his neck.

"I'm fine with anything, but you can call me anytime."

The silence lingers and as Steve's look sours, Eddie's lips turn up into a grin.

"What?! It's a good line!"

"Sure is," Steve rolls his eyes. "Do you need help with that?" he points to the lipstick still clutched in Eddie's hand. "I do drag on the weekends."

Eddie blanks for long enough for Steve to produce a small make up brush out of somewhere, and pry the lipstick out of his hand. He dabs the brush against the dark red pigment.

"The secret of sharp edges is using a brush," he explains softly. "It gives you better control of the lines."

Eddie can't say shit when Steve's finger gently holds his chin while he's applying the lipstick in small, precise strokes. He steps back, fixes something, and steps back again before nodding to himself.

"I thinks it's okay now."

Eddie turns to the mirror to examine their perfectly painted, symmetrical lips. They look up at Steve's reflection.

"Can you do my eyes, too?"

Steve can, and gives Eddie an impressive, bold eye make up, apologizing all the time that it's "too draggy". Eddie slaps him about it, and informs him that it's perfect.

When Corroded Coffin's actual stylist come into the dress room, they just groan at the sight of Eddie's make up and turn their anger at Steve. For a second, the thinks he's going to be fired, but then...

"Give her an updo, something messy but feminine to match the face," the person instructs. Steve only nods to that. "I'll go pick something in the wardrobe."

Steve is a little terrified, but Eddie only beams at him.

"She likes you!" he exclaims happily, gently slapping at Steve's chest.

"Uh, she didn't seem happy," Steve protests gently, reaching for his actual hair styling kit.

"Don't worry about it," Eddie waves their hand. "Chrissy is always stressed before a performance, but she likes a challenge. We've been friends forever, so I'd know."

"Okay." Steve pushes Eddie gently so he'll rest against the back of the chair, and turns him to face the mirror, then ties his tool belt around his waist. "I'll trust you on that. Now, I'll try to be gentle, but tell me if I pull too hard."

Eddie's hair is a bit of a struggle, since the initial plan was to just tease it as usual and let it be. But Steve turns out to be an expert enough to brush it out and up tying it into a high ponytail, with some strands framing his face. He even takes extra time to curl them and set them in place with hair spray.

When he takes a step back to take in his work, his eyes shine. Not only was he proud with his work, but his model was more than good looking, the make up and hairdo enhancing their features. Their eyes catch in the mirror reflection, but before any of them can say anything, Chrissy is back, carrying a handful of dark fabric.

"I got a few outfits for you to try on. Steve, could you take care of Gareth's hair?"

"On it!"

Eddie gives him a smile and a finger wave through the mirror, before Chrissy descends on them with the clothing she's picked. Steve doesn't have time to look in their direction, curling Gareth's hair and then giving each of the members a simple version of Eddie's eye to match it. The impromptu make over must have put them behind schedule, because everyone is rushing somewhere before Steve can take a proper look at the end product.

It's only after the lights dim that he's ushered by Chrissy to a booth where the rest of the staff is either taking a break or keeping an eye on their work. As part of the styling team, Steve is on the look out for any hair or wardrobe malfunctions that might need touching up during the set.

Gareth comes out first, setting a beat with his drums for the others to walk out to. They're dressed pretty much the same as usual, except for Eddie, whose jeans were swapped with a long skirt, its side slits so high the whole thigh is pretty much on display.

Steve briefly wonders what kind of underwear they're wearing for it not to be visible.

"Hello Chicago!" Eddie greets the audience through the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, and..." he makes a dramatic pause, eyes scanning the crowd. "Others. A gorgeous man walked into my dressing room today and did my make up." They flip their hair back and angle their face left and right. "What do we think?" The crowd goes wild and Eddie laughs. "Me too. It goes to show, for the best make up and hair tips, go to a drag queen." With another loud cheer from the crowd, Eddie sticks out their tongue playfully and starts off the first song.

They look stunning, with the strands of hair framing their painted face and the long pale legs wearing heavy leather boots. Steve feels like a fraud, because he's getting paid to make the band presentable, but really, Eddie's beauty is doing most of the work for him.

"Did Eddie just call me gorgeous?" he asks absentmindedly, slowly processing everything he's taking in.

To his right, Chrissy sighs.

"Please don't take it to HR," she says.

"What?" Steve gives her a short, surprised glance. "No. No. Unless, there's something against dating the band in my contract?"

beloveds: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #steddie fanfiction #cj x genderthings #gender things #eddiesgenderweek #genderqueer eddie munson #steddie one shot #i didnt profread it so im sorry in advance im v tired

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rafayelxsylusho · 2 days ago

Note

Not sure if you do requests! (I tried looking but I couldn't find anything so sorry in advance if you don't.)

I was wondering if you'd ever be willing to do a sylusxyouxrafayel piece! I think Rafayel and Sylus both have that delicious possessiveness to them that it would almost be like a competition but I'd imagine it make someone go a little crazy from how opposite of each other they appear.

Thanks!

Hi I do accept requests, it might take a bit of time for me to get to them but I try 😊.

This is how I picture it, I hope you like it!!

TW: Filthy smut

You opened your eyes, blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains of an unfamiliar bedroom. A throbbing headache pulsed behind your temples as fragmented memories of the night before flashed through your mind, loud music, clinking glasses, the taste of alcohol on your tongue. And then, nothing.

You sat up abruptly, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the raised voices. The room spun slightly but you ignored the disorientation, focusing instead on the heated exchange between Sylus and Rafayel.

"...in danger if YOU were supposed to be taking care of her, not running around the city like some reckless fool!" Sylus shouted, his usually calm demeanor shattered.

Rafayel scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm and annoyance. "Oh, coming from the man who's been stalking her every move for years? At least I have the decency to be present when I say I'll protect her.

You blinked rapidly, rubbing your eyes and shaking your head as if to dispel the illusion. But no, Sylus and Rafayel remained, glaring at each other intensely, seemingly oblivious to your sudden awakening.

"Am I...am I dreaming?" you muttered under your breath, struggling to reconcile the fact that these two, who had never met each other to your knowledge, were now standing in the same room together and arguing about you.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool hardwood floor beneath your feet as you stumbled up on slightly unsteady legs. Your head throbbed and your mouth felt like cotton, remnants of the night before still lingering.

You felt strong arms grasp you before your knees could give out, pulling your limp body against a firm chest. The scent of cologne and something uniquely Sylus filled your nostrils as he held you close, his grip possessive and protective.

"Get your hands off of her," Sylus growled, his voice a low rumble in his chest that you could feel as much as hear. There was a warning in his tone, a clear message that he considered you his territory to defend. Rafayel, not one to back down from a challenge, tightened his own hold on you, his fingers splaying across your back as he pulled you more firmly against him. "I'm not letting go of her, not until I know she's okay," he retorted, his chin set stubbornly.

Their argument continued to escalate, voices rising as they stood there holding you between them. The last thing you registered before everything faded to black again was the feeling of their hands on your body, their chests pressed aginst your back and front, hearts beating with a matching intensity. Then, nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slowly regained consciousness again as you blinked open your heavy lids. Sylus and Rafayel were still there, their argument now a low, heated murmur but no less intense.

"...leave, Sylus," Rafayel was saying, his voice tight with barely contained anger

You tried to speak, your throat dry and scratchy. "W-what's going on...?" you croaked out, struggling to make sense of the situation. "Why are you both here? How do you even know each other?" Your words came out slurred and weak, your body still not fully under your control. You looked between the two men, seeing the way they eyed each other like rivals, the tension crackling in the air between them. The reality of your situation began to sink in, this was no dream. Somehow, some way, Sylus and Rafayel were both here, in the same room, arguing over you. And you were right in the middle of it. The realization sent a shiver down your spine, even as a fresh wave of dizziness threatened to pull you under again.

You looked around the unfamiliar room, your gaze landing back on Sylus and Rafayel. They stood frozen, eyes locked on you, expressions intense.

"Where am I?" you asked again, your voice slightly stronger this time. You needed answers, needed to understand how this bizarre situation had come to pass.

Rafayel was the first to speak, his brow furrowed in concern. "You're in a safe place, cutie. Don't worry, I've got you."

Sylus scoffed, "Not thanks to you" he retorted, his lips curling into a sneer.

Before they could launch into another argument, you interrupted, desperate for clarity. "Do you two...know each other?" you asked, looking between them in disbelief. "How is this even possible?"

Rafayel's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he glared at Sylus. "Yes, unfortunately we've known each other for years, Sylus here has been...keeping tabs on you.

Sylus's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Rafayel. "Fine," he bit out through gritted teeth. "Yes, it was mephisto that has been watching over you. Not that Rafayel here has been doing a very good job of it," he added with a scathing edge to his voice.

You stared at them both in disbelief, your mind reeling from their revelation. Without thinking, you pushed yourself up to standing, pointing an accusatory finger at each of them in turn.

"What makes either of you think I need your protection?" you demanded, your voice stronger now, tinged with anger and confusion. "I was having less trouble before I even met the both of you!" You couldn't believe the gall they had, arguing over you like some prize to be won when you had been managing just fine on your own until now. The realization that they had been secretly watching you left you feeling violated and furious. How dare they interfere without your knowledge or consent? Your heart raced as you waited for their response, determined to get to the bottom of this mess.

Rafayel stepped closer, his eyes softening as he circled around you. There was a change in his demeanor, a intensity in his gaze that made you feel both unnerved and strangely breathless.

"Why do you think you were doing okay before, cutie?" he asked, his voice lowering to a smooth, persuasive tone. "Luck? Or perhaps..." He paused, his fingers brushing lightly along your arm as he continued to walk around you. "...it was because of the protection we have been secretly providing you, even if you didn't know it."

His eyes met yours, and in them you saw a flicker of something raw and possessive. "You really think you could have lasted this long without someone watching your back?Without us?" There was a hint of vulnerability in his words, but also a underlying current of arrogance.

Sylus scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain as he spoke. "Don't give yourself too much credit, Rafayel. The fact that she ended up in danger last night is on you. If you had been doing your job properly, she never would have been in that situation." His eyes flashed with accusation as he glared at Rafayel, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Rafayel still didn't spare Sylus a glance, his intense gaze remaining fixed on you. "Well, cutie here said she was already home and going to sleep," he argued, his voice taking on a defensive edge. "I didn't know she was out partying with friends. I don't have some creepy mechanical crow stalking her every move, now do I?" There was a hint of bitterness in his tone, a jab at Sylus's invasive methods of protection.

You took a step back from both of them, your arms crossed tightly across your chest as you glared at Sylus and Rafayel in turn. Your eyes flashed with anger and frustration, your voice rising as you spoke.

"I really don't owe either one of you any explanations," you declared firmly. "And I don't need your so called protection, so stop." You felt a surge of independence and defiance, unwilling to be bossed around or controlled by either of them anymore. "I can take care of myself, and I don't appreciate being spied on or having my life interfered with like this." Your words were sharp and decisive, leaving no room for argument.

Sylus let out a low, rumbling chuckle at your defiant words, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and dark appreciation. "Feisty little kitten, aren't you?" he murmured, " or maybe a little dragon, all fire and fury, even when you're cornered." He took a step closer to you, his tall frame seeming to loom over you, his presence commanding and dominant. "And I think you do owe us an explanation," Sylus continued, his gaze intensifying as he searched your face. "We've both invested too much in keeping you safe to just walk away now." He reached out, his fingers brushing along your jawline, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his eyes. His hand remained under your chin, his thumb brushing back and forth as he held your gaze. His eyes bored into yours, intense and unyielding. "You can't deny it, can you? You've been playing us both, keeping me at arm's length even as you flirted shamelessly with Rafayel." His lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and something darker, more possessive.

"Don't think I haven't noticed," Sylus continued, his other hand coming up to rest on your hip, pulling you just a little bit closer. "Mephisto can see everything, little dragon. He can see the way you blush and smile at Rafayels clumsy attempts to win your favor."

He leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting over your lips, his voice lowering to whisper. "Tell me, were you planning to keep us both dangling forever? Or did you intend to choose one of us eventually?" His eyes searched yours, looking for answers, for any hint of what you truly wanted. The air between you was charged with tension, Sylus's proximity making it hard to think straight.

"I...I wasn't!" you stammered out, flustered by Sylus's proximity and the intensity of his gaze. "I'm not playing with either of you." Your cheeks flushed hotly at the accusation, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you could gather your thoughts to say more, Sylus interrupted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction

"Oh, I think you were," Sylus said, his voice still low and intense. "But perhaps Rafayel can enlighten us both." He tilted his head towards the other man, a smirk playing on his lips.

Rafayel stepped closer, crowding into your space on the other side. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening to pin you with a heated gaze. "I can smell your arousal, cutie," he murmured, his voice rough and low. "The same scent that clung to your skin when we went on our dates, when I held you close and whispered sweet nothings in your ear."

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I...I don't know what you're talking about," you managed to say, but your voice lacked conviction. Your body trembled slightly as Rafayel's words echoed in your mind, the truth of them impossible to ignore. You were attracted to both of them in a way that both thrilled and terrified you, and they both knew it. The knowledge put you at a distinct disadvantage in this bizarre standoff.

Sylus leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke in a low, intense murmur. "How do I put this in simple terms, kitten?" His voice was a dark, velvety rumble, sending shivers down your spine. "You've been flirting with both of us, spending time with us, and right now..." His hand slid from your hip to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You could feel every hard inch of his body pressed against yours. "Instead of feeling unsafe or scared, you're feeling something else entirely, aren't you?" His other hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze. "You're feeling turned on. Aroused. Desired. And we both know it."

Rafayel's eyes flashed with a mix of jealousy and indignation as he glared at Sylus. "Maybe she doesn't want you, Sylus," he retorted, "Maybe y/n only wants me." There was a desperate, almost frantic edge to his words, a man clinging to a fading hope.

Sylus laughed, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke to Rafayel. "If you had a mechanical crow watching over her every move, as I do, you would have seen the way she reacts to my touch." His hand slid lower on your back, his fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your rear. "You would have seen the way her breath hitches and her pulse races when I'm near. The way her eyes follow me when she thinks I'm not looking. So don't think so highly of yourself, Rafayel. She wants us both, whether she's willing to admit it or not."

His words sent a thrill of fear and excitement rushing through you. As much as you tried to deny it, you couldn't ignore the way your body responded to both of them. The way your heart raced and your skin prickled with goosebumps at their touch. You were caught between them, a pawn in their twisted game, but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Some dark, hidden part of you reveled in their attention, their desire, even as your logical mind screamed at you to run.

As you turned around, to put some much needed distance between you and Sylus, you found yourself crashing against Rafayel's firm chest instead. His hands instinctively came up to steady you, one hand splaying across your lower back while the other cupped your jaw gently.

Rafayel gazed down at you, his eyes dark with emotion as they roamed over your face. They lingered on your lips for a long moment before flicking back up to meet your gaze. "Do you really want to go, y/n?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a raw, aching need that made your heart clench. It was clear that he didn't want you to leave, that the thought of you walking away twisted something deep inside him. His grip on you tightened slightly, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Behind you, Sylus let out a low, mocking laugh. "She's not going anywhere," he said confidently, his voice a dark rumble. "Are you, kitten?" His hand slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his hard chest. You could feel every contour of his muscular body pressed against you, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes.

You were trapped between them, your heart pounding wildly as you looked up at Rafayel. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of indecision, any flicker of doubt. He saw the way your breath caught in your throat, the flush that crept up your neck to stain your cheeks. And he knew, as surely as Sylus did, that despite your words, you didn't really want to go. Not when you had both of them, so close, so eager, so hungry for you. The air between the three of you was charged with a dark, electric tension, the promise of something dangerous and thrilling hanging heavily in the space between your bodies.

Sylus leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You don't want this? Then we'll move. But if you stay..." His hand slid possessively to your hip, "If you stay, you're ours. Both of us, in every way imaginable." His other hand came up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his burning gaze over your shoulder.

Rafayel's eyes flashed with a mix of triumph and dark promise as he looked down at you "You heard him, cutie," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Stay with us, and we'll give you everything you've ever wanted. Everything you never knew you needed." His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing the soft curve of your mouth.

Behind you, Sylus nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "We can give you the world. Power, pleasure, a love so intense it consumes you. You just have to say the word, and we're yours. Mind, body, and soul." His hand slid up from your hip to cup the swell of your breast, his thumb brushing over the peak of your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt.

A soft gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of Sylus's fingers grazing over the sensitive peak of your breast. Your body arched instinctively into his touch, craving more even as your mind reeled with the weight of their words.

When you turned your head to look up at Rafayel, his eyes were clouded with a mix of desire and desperation. His eyelids were hooded, his gaze heavy lidded as he stared down at you with a hunger that made your heart race. The air between you was electric, crackling with a tension that demanded release.

Acting on a primal instinct, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips against Rafayel's in a kiss. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before fluttering shut, a low groan rumbling in his throat as he kissed you back with a fervor that stole your breath away.

His lips moved demandingly against yours, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you, to taste you, to consume you. One hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, while the other hand slid down to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him.

Behind you, Sylus growled lowly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your breast as he watched Rafayel kiss you with a bruising intensity. "That's it, kitten," he purred darkly. "Give in to it. Give in to us."

Rafayel broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with a wild, almost manic look in his eyes. "Tell us you want this," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "Tell us you're ours, and we'll give you everything"

The kiss had only fueled the fire burning low in your belly, the ache between your thighs. You could feel the evidence of their desire pressed against you, hard and insistent and demanding. They were waiting for your answer, their bodies trembling with the effort of holding back, of giving you a chance to refuse.

You turned your head to the side, your lips finding Sylus's in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. It was different from Rafayel's kiss, darker, more demanding, more intense. Sylus kissed you like he was starving for it, like he wanted to devour you whole and consume every last piece of you.

As your lips met Sylus's, you felt Rafayel's knee press firmly between your legs, sliding up to brush against your most sensitive area through the fabric of your clothes. The sudden contact against your aching, clothed sex made you gasp, your body jolting with a surge of pleasure that quickly turned into a drawn out moan.

The sound of your pleasure echoed between the three of you as the kiss with Sylus broke, your chest heaving and your skin flushed. Sylus's eyes flashed as he heard your moan, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

"Listen to that sweet sound, the way you moan for us, kitten. You can't deny it anymore." His hands slid down to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes possessively as he pulled your hips back against his own. You could feel the thick, hard length of his arousal pressing your backside, leaving no doubt as to how much he wanted you.

“I bet I can get you off like this,” rafayel whispered, his voice teasing with an edge of promise. “Make you come without even putting my hands on you.”

He moved his leg, rocking it upward in a way that pressed perfectly against your clit. You whimpered loudly because, no doubt he could, but you didn’t want that.

“I want your hands on me,” you whispered. “Please"

Rafayel's eyes darkened with lust at your breathless plea, a smirk spreading across his face. "As you wish, cutie," he whispered "Tell me what you want, y/n , tell me how you want to feel my hands on you."

"Don't be shy, kitten," sylus said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "We can give you exactly what you need. All you have to do is ask."

One of Rafayel's hand slid slowly up your thigh under your skirt, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your skin prickled and tingled with anticipation as his touch crept higher and higher, inching towards the aching, empty space between your legs.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "Is this where you want my hands, cutie? Right here?" His fingers danced along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teasing and tormenting you.

You shook your head. “Higher.”

Rafayel looked at Sylus with a smirk, silently conveying a message between them. Sylus answered with a dark chuckle, his hand sliding up to the hem of your shirt.

"Of course, kitten," Sylus purred, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric to stroke the bare skin of your stomach. "We want to touch you everywhere. To feel every inch of this exquisite body."

Rafayel's fingers crept higher, his touch now a mere whisper against your skin as he approached the edge of your panties. "Here?"

His eyes held a challenge, daring you to beg for it, to plead for his touch. Sylus's fingers slid up to the underside of your breast, his thumb brushing the bottom curve teasingly. They were close, so close to where you needed them, to where your body screamed for their touch.

You swallowed the embarrassment. “My…” you huffed at the words stuck in her throat. “My cunt.

Without warning, Rafayel slid his hand beneath the fabric of your panties, his fingers finding your slick, swollen folds. He groaned at the feel of your arousal, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening to pierce you with a hungry gaze.

"Fuuuuck," Rafayel breathed, his fingers stroking through your wetness, teasing your entrance. "You're fucking soaked, baby. Is this all for us?"

Behind you, Sylus growled approvingly, his hand cupping the full weight of your breast, kneading the soft flesh. "That's it, kitten. Tell us exactly what you want," he coaxed, his thumb and forefinger finding your nipple and pinching lightly.

Rafayel circled your clit with a feather light touch, not quite applying pressure, teasing you. His eyes, dark and hungry, watched your face intently, gauging your reactions to his touch. Sylus rolled your nipple between his fingers, tugging on it gently as his other hand slid down to your hip, holding you in place. "Don't be shy now," his lips brushing your ear. "Tell Rafayel exactly how you want him to touch you. Be specific."

You gasped as Sylus's fingers unzipped your skirt, the sound of the zipper teeth parting echoing in the air. The skirt fluttered to the floor, leaving you clad in nothing but your damp thong. You could feel the cool air against your newly exposed skin, making you shiver.

Rafayel's eyes flicked down to your newly exposed thighs "Or maybe...you want me to rip these panties off and bury my face between your legs until you scream?"

Sylus chuckled, his hands making quick work of your shirt. Buttons went flying as he tore it open, baring your lacy bra to his hungry gaze. "Mmm, I like the way you think," his fingers deftly unhooking the clasp at the front. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already hard and aching for his touch.

Rafayel's hands slid down your thighs, leaving your skin tingling with anticipation as he knelt before you. "Since you don't seem to have a preference, cutie," Rafayel murmured "I think I'll make the choice for you." He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he nuzzled into the apex of your thighs. Your thong was the only barrier left between you now, the damp fabric clinging to your swollen folds.

Sylus took the opportunity to press himself against your back, his muscular chest against your bare shoulder blades, his hips nestling your ass against his straining erection. "Let him taste you, kitten," Sylus said, his hands kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples. "I want to watch him devour your pretty little cunt until you're screaming"

Just as Sylus finished that sentence Rafayel leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along your clothed slit, groaning at the taste of your arousal. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to lick and suck at your aching sex through the damp fabric, his nose nestling against your clit.

Sylus rolled and pinched your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He rocked his hips against you, his clothed cock sliding along the cleft of your ass, letting you feel how hard he was, how much he wanted you. Your head fell back against Sylus's shoulder, your fingers tangling in Rafayel's hair as you gasped and moaned, your body already writhing with pleasure.

Rafayel hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your thong and slowly peeled it down your thighs. He tossed it carelessly aside, leaving you bare and exposed before him. Sylus smirked, his eyes glinting with dark intent as he watched Rafayel admire your exposed sex. Without warning, he grabbed your thighs, his large hands easily encircling your legs just above the knees. "I think our dear Rafayel could use a little help"

You felt a tingle of Sylus's Evol power emanating from his hands, and suddenly, your thighs were lifted and positioned over Rafayel's shoulders. He grunted in surprise, quickly catching on and gripping your hips for support.

"Much better," Sylus said approvingly, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of your inner thighs as Rafayel found himself face to face with your dripping, needy cunt. "Well, hello there, beautiful," he murmured, his breath hot and heavy against your swollen folds. "Aren't you just the prettiest little thing." He leaned in, his tongue darting out to flick against your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. "Mmm, and you taste even better than you look," Rafayel purred, his voice a low, sinful rumble.

"Fuck, kitten," Sylus groaned, watching Rafayel work. "The way he's devouring your cunt, you'd think he was starving for it. And judging by how wet you are, I'd say you've been craving his touch just as much."

Sylus's fingers dug into the meat of your thighs, holding you in place as Rafayel licked and lapped at your folds, savoring you.

Rafayel paused his ministrations, his lips glistening with your juices as he gazed up at you, his eyes burning with intense desire. He gripped your hips tighter, his fingers sinking into the supple flesh of your ass. "If these were my last moments on this earth," Rafayel murmured, his voice a low, fervent whisper, "there is no better way to go than with your legs wrapped tightly around my head and my tongue buried deep in this pretty little cunt."

Sylus chuckled, amused by Rafayel's words. "Do you hear that, kitten?" his fingers still gripping your thighs tightly. "Rafayel is already so pussydrunk, he's ready to worship it like it's the last thing in the world." As he spoke, Sylus used his Evol to keep your legs securely draped over Rafayel's shoulders, leaving you open and exposed to his eager mouth. His other hand came down to gently, but firmly, spread your pussy lips apart, revealing the glistening pink folds within.

Rafayel's eyes darkened with lust at the sight, his tongue darting out to teasingly circle your now fully exposed clit. Sylus pinched and rolled your nipple between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure pain straight to your core. "Go on then, Rafayel," he encouraged him "Indulge yourself. Taste every drop of our girl's sweet nectar."

He leaned down to nip at your earlobe, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Be a good girl for him, kitten. Ride his face until you drench him in your cum. Show him what this pretty cunt can do." With that, Sylus gave your nipple a sharp tug, the slight discomfort only heightening the intense pleasure radiating from your core.

Unable to resist the overwhelming urge any longer, you began to grind your hips against Rafayel's face, riding his tongue with desperate need. Soft, needy whimpers spilled from your lips as you chased the pleasure he offered. Rafayel groaned in approval, the vibrations of his voice sending delicious shivers through your core as he gripped your hips tighter, pulling you harder against his mouth. He licked and suckled at your clit, his tongue delving deep into your entrance to taste your essence directly from the source.

Sylus continued his own sensual assault, rolling and pinching your nipples between his skilled fingers. He nipped at your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point before sucking a dark mark into your skin. "Fuck, I love seeing you like this. Completely lost in pleasure, putting on a show just for us."

"That's it, kitten, grind on his face, fuck yourself on his tongue. Use him for your pleasure until you're screaming our names and gushing all over him."

Rafayel plunged two long fingers deep into your dripping cunt, curling them just perfectly to hit that special spot inside you. The sudden, intense stimulation was too much, and you came undone with a scream of pure ecstasy.

"FUCKKK!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the walls as your body convulsed and shook. Your inner walls clamped down around Rafayel's fingers, rippling and fluttering as a wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Rafayel continued to pump his fingers in and out of your spasming sex, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit, drawing out your intense orgasm for as long as possible. He groaned in satisfaction, the sound muffled by your thighs and your gushing arousal flooding his mouth.

As the final waves of your intense orgasm subsided, you felt the warmth of Sylus's Evol dissipating from your thighs. Slowly, your legs slipped from Rafayel's shoulders, and you found yourself standing once more, positioned between the two men. Rafayel sat back on his heels, his lips and chin glistening with your essence as he gazed up at you with a look of pure satisfaction. He licked his lips, savoring your taste. When he stood, you immediately reached for the hem of his shirt, a fierce hunger in your eyes as you began to tug it upwards. He raised his arms, allowing you to peel the it off his toned body, revealing the lean muscles and smooth pale skin beneath.

Without pausing, you attacked his pants next, your fingers making quick work of the button and zipper. You yanked them down his legs, along with his underwear, leaving him just as bare as you were.

Rafayel let out a soft chuckle, amused by your eager desperation. "Eager, aren't we?" he teased. His cock jutted out proudly from a nest of dark curls, long, thick and already leaking at the tip. The sight made your mouth water, and you found yourself licking your lips unconsciously.

Sylus's hands slid around your waist, his fingers splaying across your stomach possessively. You could feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. You turned around to face Sylus, your eyes filled with the same desperate, lustful hunger you had shown Rafayel. Without a word, your hands reached for the buttons of Sylus's crisp black shirt, your fingers making quick work of the buttons.

He raised a brow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched you strip him with such eager desperation. "We have an impatient, kitten" He didn't resist as you shoved his shirt off his broad shoulders, revealing the network of scars that lined his skin. His chest was a work of art, each muscle clearly defined, his abs a perfect six pack.

Your fingers drifted lower, undoing his pants and tugging them down his thighs. Sylus stepped out of the pooled fabric, leaving him just as bare as you and Rafayel. His cock was a thing of beauty, thick and long, curving up towards his stomach. It was already rock hard, the head an angry red and leaking copiously. "Satisfied, kitten?" Sylus asked as he towered over you.

"Gorgeous isn't he?" Said rafayel behind you "But he's going to look even better with your perfect little pussy wrapped around his cock while you ride him." He gave Sylus a playful shove, urging him to sit back on the edge of the bed. As Sylus settled himself, his back against the headboard and his legs spread wide. "Go on, cutie," his eyes blazed with anticipation as he gestured to Sylus's impressive erection, standing tall and proud between his muscular thighs. "Climb on top and give us a show. Bounce on his cock until you're both screaming"

You climbed up onto the bed, straddling Sylus's muscular thighs as you gazed down at his cock, the thick, veiny length of him jutted out, so hard it seemed to throb with need. You couldn't help but doubt if he would fit inside you, your pussy clenching nervously at the thought.

Sylus smirked, sensing your hesitation. He reached out, his large hands gripping your hips possessively as he pulled you closer, the head of his cock catching against your dripping slit. "Don't worry, kitten, you can take it"

Just then, you felt Rafayel's presence behind you. His hands slid around your waist, his fingers splaying across your stomach as he pressed himself against your back.

"Shh, relax," Rafayel murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to feel amazing wrapped around him, cutie. His cock is going to fill you up perfectly." He nipped at your shoulder, soothing you with gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone. "Just take a deep breath and sink down. I promise, you'll fit every inch of him. You're going to love every second of it."

As you started to sink down onto Sylus's cock, you felt your tight walls stretching around his thick girth. Inch after inch disappeared inside you, filling and stretching you in a way you had never experienced before. However, as you reached the halfway point, you suddenly stopped, your hips hovering just above Sylus's as a flicker of panic crossed your face. You clenched down around him, your inner muscles fluttering and quivering as they struggled to accommodate his size.

"I...I don't think I can go any lower," you gasped out, your voice strained with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. "You're too big, Sylus. I can't...I can't take all of you."

Behind you, Rafayel felt your stomach bulge slightly from the massive intrusion of Sylus's cock stretching your tight walls. He rubbed soothing circles over your taut belly, murmuring words of encouragement in your ear.

"Shh, just relax, cutie," Rafayel cooed, his hands kneading the flesh of your hips and stomach. "You can take this. Breathe through it."

He angled your hips slightly, tilting them in a way that allowed you to sink down a little further. At the same time, Sylus gripped your waist tighter, his hips surging up to meet yours.

The dual movement caused you to slide down Sylus's thick shaft, impaling yourself on every last inch of his cock. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you threw your head back with a loud moan.

"FUCK!" you cried out "Oh god, Sylus! You're so deep...so big...ahhh!" Your pussy clenched and spasmed around his throbbing member, trying desperately to adjust to the stretch. You could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulsing throb and twitch of his cock buried deep inside your core. Sylus groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as your scorching heat engulfed him completely.

Rafayel glanced at Sylus, a smug grin spreading across his face as he saw the look of pure bliss etched onto his features. Sylus's eyes were squeezed shut, his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of the exquisite pleasure your tight, wet cunt was inflicting upon him.

"Wow, Sylus," Rafayel teased, "Not a word? I guess congratulations are in order, cutie. Your perfect little cunt has left our friend here completely speechless."

He punctuated his words with a roll of your hips, grinding you down against Sylus's pelvis and making you both groan at the intense sensation. Rafayel's hands slid up to your breasts, kneading and squeezing the soft mounds as he played with your nipples.

"How does she feel, Sylus?" Rafayel asked with a chuckle, knowing full well the other man was too lost in pleasure to form a coherent response. Sylus could only let out another groan in response, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. His eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing ragged as he fought to maintain his composure.

Rafayel just smirked, loving the way your body had rendered Sylus at your mercy. "That's it, cutie," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "You've got him right where you want him. Now let's see if we you can make him beg for more..."

You started to move, your hands braced against Sylus's broad, muscular chest for leverage. Slowly, you lifted your hips until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down with a low moan.

Up and down you went, finding a rhythm as you rode Sylus. Your inner walls clung to him, slick and tight, creating a delicious friction that made you both groan with each movement. His hands roamed your body greedily, squeezing and groping every curve. He palmed your ass, spreading your cheeks and pulling you down harder onto his cock. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, guiding your movements as you bounced on his lap.

"Fuck, just like that," Sylus said, voice strained with pleasure. "Ride my cock, kitten. Take every inch of it" Rafayel watched the erotic spectacle with hooded eyes, his own arousal growing at the sight of you lost in lust.

"That's it, cutie. I want to see you fuck him into oblivion."

As you continued to ride Sylus with increasing fervor, you felt Rafayel's hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh. Just as you were about to cry out from the intense pleasure, you felt one of his hands snake around your hip, his fingers finding your sensitive, throbbing clit. He began to circle the swollen nub, rubbing and teasing it with skilled, practiced motions. The added stimulation made your walls clamp down even harder around Sylus's cock.

"Ohhh, FUCK!" Sylus roared, his head slamming back against the headboard as your clenching pussy pushed him to the brink. "Your cunt...god, it's squeezing me so fucking tightly. Don't stop, kitten. Keep milking my cock just like that."

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding on for dear life as you rode him. His hips surged up to meet yours, slamming his cock into you with deep, powerful thrusts that made your tits bounce and jiggle with each impact.

You felt Rafayel hot breath fanning over your neck as he continued to stimulate your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "That's it, ride him harder, fuck him deeper. I want to see you milk his cock for every last drop of cum. Give him the best fuck of his life."

You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your body writhing and undulating as you rode Sylus's cock with wild enthusiasm. Your cries of ecstasy filled the room, mingling with Sylus's guttural groans and Rafayel's encouragement.

The final straw that sent you both hurtling over the edge was when Rafayel's hand slid down to Sylus's heavy balls. He massaged the sensitive balls, feeling them draw up tight as Sylus's orgasm approached. At the same time, Rafayel pinched your clit hard, the sharp sting of pain blending deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure. Your pussy clenched down viciously around Sylus's cock, gripping him as your orgasm crashed over you.

"FUCK! I'm...I'm going to cum!" Sylus screamed. His cock throbbed and pulsed inside you, growing even harder and bigger as his release neared. Your screams of rapture mingled with Sylus's cries, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room as you both hurtled towards your peaks. Sylus's hips jerked and stuttered, losing rhythm as he fucked up into you.

Rafayel jerked his hips forward, grinding your clit hard against Sylus's pelvis as he felt the other man's balls draw up tight. "Now, Sylus!" Rafayel commanded. "Cum for her! Fill her little cunt with your seed!" With a final, brutal thrust, Sylus buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming pussy. His cock erupted like a geyser, painting your insides white with thick, hot ropes of cum. Jet after jet of jizz pumped into you as Sylus moaned his release, his body shuddering and convulsing beneath you.

Your combined orgasms seemed to last an eternity, your bodies shaking and shuddering as you rode out the aftershocks. Finally, you collapsed against Sylus's sweat slicked chest, both of you panting and gasping for air.

"I bet people would pay a pretty penny to see their beloved leader reduced to such a debauched state. Sylus, the great and powerful, brought to his knees by Linkon's most beautiful hunter"

Sylus gasped sharply as your laugh made your inner muscles clench and ripple around his sensitive, softening cock. He gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your flesh as he fought to maintain control.

"Don't make her laugh, Rafayel," Sylus growled, his voice still strained from the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. "Every time she does, her perfect little cunt squeezes me. Fuck, I can feel every inch of my cock even now..."

He rolled his hips up slightly, grinding his pelvis against yours and making you both groan at the sensation. Your combined juices, a mix of your arousal and his release, leaked out around his shaft, dripping down onto his balls and the sheets below.

Rafayel let out a low, appreciative whistle as he drank in the erotic sight before him, his artist's eye savoring every detail. He could see Sylus's thick, pearly essence slowly seeping out around your stretched, puffy lips where you remained impaled on the other man's cock. The creamy fluid trickled down, staining the expensive sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, what a gorgeous sight," his voice heavy with lust. "The way his cum is leaking out of your perfect little pussy, it's absolutely exquisite."

"I could paint this moment, cutie. Capture the way Sylus's release is dripping out of your sexy, well-fucked cunt... it would be my magnum opus. A masterpiece dedicated to the sheer erotic beauty of your body and its effect on him." Rafayel's hand slid down, collecting some of the leaking essence on his fingers. He brought them to his lips, making a show of licking them clean, his tongue swirling around the digits to lap up every drop of your combined juices. "Mmm, and to think, I'd only be able to paint it once I'd thoroughly tasted every drop of your combined pleasure. For art, and for my own selfish indulgence, of course."

Sylus just groaned, his fingers kneading the globes of your ass as he listened to Rafayel's words. He knew he should feel some measure of outrage at the way the other man spoke of his lover. And yet, the way your body trembled and clenched around his cock with each filthy word only served to arouse him again. It seemed there was no end to the ways you could reduce him to a state of desperate, aching need.

Before Sylus could gather the strength to fuck you again, he sat up suddenly, his hands gripping your waist tightly. With a grunt, he slowly slipped his softening cock out of your dripping cunt. You felt every thick inch of him sliding out, a fresh gush of your mixed releases spilling out of your fluttering hole as he withdrew. Then lifted you up and placed you right in front of Rafayel, your back pressing against the other man's chest. You could feel the heat radiating off Rafayel's naked body, his skin warm and slightly damp with sweat from the erotic show he'd just witnessed.

At the same time, you felt Rafayel's hard, throbbing cock press firmly against the cleft of your ass. It nestled in the valley between your cheeks, the thick shaft pulsing with need, smearing your skin with his pre-cum. His hands slid around your waist, one coming to rest low on your belly while the other cupped your breast possessively. He rolled and plucked at your nipple, pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers as he ground his hips against your ass.

Sylus shifted position, lying on his stomach on the bed as he watched the two of you with a mix of satisfaction and renewed lust. He propped himself up on his elbows, his crimson eyes dark and intense as he gazed at your naked bodies.

You and Rafayel remained kneeling on the bed, your back pressed against his chest. You could his heart pounding, matching the frantic beating of your own as anticipation built between you both.

Suddenly, Sylus reached out and grabbed Rafayel's rigid cock. He gave it a few firm strokes, smearing the copious pre cum that leaked from the tip all along the thick shaft. When he lined up Rafayel's throbbing cock with your dripping entrance, a jolt of electricity seemed to course through your body. It was a thrilling mix of excitement, vulnerability and deep arousal to see Sylus's strong hand wrapped around Rafayel's cock, guiding it to penetrate you.

"Fuck, Sylus!" Rafayel gasped, his hips bucking reflexively at the sensation of Sylus's touch on his aching cock. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips as he tried to hold back from simply thrusting forward and burying himself inside you.

Sylus just smirked at Rafayel's reaction, his grip tightening slightly around the other man's thick shaft. He looked up at you both with a wicked glint in his eyes, enjoying the power he held in that moment.

"Go ahead, Rafayel, fuck her, claim her. Show me how much you want her, how badly you need to fill her up." With those words, Sylus pressed the swollen head of Rafayel's cock against your entrance, feeling it catch and then slowly sink into your soaked folds. The sensation made you both gasp, your head falling back against Rafayel's shoulder as your slick walls stretched and welcomed the thick intrusion.

Sylus watched with a mix of awe and lust-darkened eyes as you began to bounce on Rafayel's cock, your hips rising and falling in a sensual dance. The sight of your slick cunt swallowing up Rafayel's thick shaft over and over again was almost too much for him to bear.

"Goddamnit," Sylus swore under his breath. His eyes raked over your bouncing body, taking in the way your full breasts swayed with each movement, the hard points of your nipples just begging to be touched. He sat up on his knees and without warning, he leaned in and captured one of your bouncing nipples between his full, sensual lips. He suckled hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as he drew it into the wet heat of his mouth.

"Ohhh fuck!" you cried out, the dual stimulation of Rafayel's cock pounding into you and Sylus's mouth on your breast sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You reached back to tangle your fingers in Rafayel's short dark hair, holding him close as he pistoned his hips, driving his cock deeper and harder into your grasping cunt.

Sylus determined to mark you as his own, just as Rafayel was claiming you so roughly from behind, switched to your other breast, giving it the same treatment as he sucked hard, leaving dark hickeys blooming on your skin. His hand slid down to grope and knead the globe of your ass, holding you in place as Rafayel fucked into you. Rafayel panted harshly against your neck, his hips slapping against the globes of your ass with each powerful thrust. "God, your cunt feels incredible," he groaned, feeling your walls squeezing his cock. "So fucking tight and wet... "

As Sylus continued his assault now on your collarbones, leaving a trail of dark, claiming marks in his wake, you felt Rafayel's hot breath ghosting over your neck. His panting grew more ragged as he pistoned his hips with increasing fervor, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. In the heat of the moment, Rafayel's intense eyes locked with Sylus's dark, hungry gaze over your shoulder. For a charged second, they seemed to communicate something primal and possessive, a silent agreement passing between them. It was a look that spoke of a shared desire, a mutual hunger to lay claim to every inch of your body.

The air between them practically crackled with tension, the weight of their combined lust and desire threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel the power dynamic shifting, the balance of control tilting precariously as both men sought to assert their dominance over you in their own ways. And in a moment of dizzying desire, you grabbed both Sylus and Rafayel, pulling them in close. As you did, their faces turned towards each other, meeting in a messy, passionate kiss. It was a clash of lips and tongues, a tangle of hot breath and muffled moans. Sylus's hand slid up from your hip to grip the back of Rafayel's neck, holding him in place as he dominated the kiss. Rafayel responded just as fervently, his own hand fisting in Sylus's short white hair. And you were caught in the middle, your tongue darting out to dance and twine with both of theirs. It was a sensual, erotic dance of lips and limbs, the three of you writhing together in a tangle of sweat slicked skin and throbbing, aching need.

Throughout the messy, passionate kiss, Rafayel never ceased his relentless thrusting, his thick cock pounding into your dripping cunt. "She's close," Rafayel panted against your lips, his voice strained with exertion and pleasure. In an instant, Sylus pulled away from the messy three way kiss and shifted positions, moving back down to lie on his stomach between your spread thighs and without hesitation he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along your dripping slit, tasting the heady mix of your arousal and Rafayel's pre cum. He groaned at the flavor, his grip tightening on your thighs as he held you in place, keeping you spread wide open for his hungry mouth.

Sylus focused his attention on your sensitive, throbbing clit, suckling and flicking the bud with skillful strokes of his tongue.

"Fuck, Sylus!" Rafayel grunted from behind you, his hips snapping harder, fucking into your fluttering walls as he felt your body tensing, climbing rapidly towards a shattering peak. "Don't stop, make her cum on your tongue while I fill her up!"

"I can't... it's too much," you whimpered, overwhelmed by the intense sensations assaulting your body from all sides. Your legs trembled and your toes curled as Sylus's skilled tongue pushed you to the brink of a massive climax. Rafayel just growled in your ear, his voice low and commanding. "You can. Give it to us. Cum on my cock, let go. I want to feel your sweet little cunt squeezing me as you come undone." Sylus doubled his efforts, sucking your clit hard into his mouth.

The dual stimulation was too intense to resist. Your back arched, pressing your breast into Rafayel's palm as he groped it roughly. A high, keening cry tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your walls clamped down viciously on Rafayel's cock, rippling and fluttering as you came harder than you ever had before. Clear fluid gushed from your spasming cunt dripping down onto Sylus's eagerly lapping tongue. Sylus just moaned in delight, lapping up your release pushing you to ride out the aftershocks of your intense climax. Behind you, Rafayel grunted and slammed into you one, two, three more times before burying himself to the hilt and coming with a guttural groan. You could feel his seed flooding your insides, painting your walls white as he filled you up just like he promised.

When Sylus sat back up, his chin and lips were glistening with your combined arousal. He gathered a generous amount of the slick fluid dripping from your cunt onto his long fingers. Turning to Rafayel, he commanded in a low, authoritative tone "Open your mouth, Rafayel. Taste what you've done to our girl."

As Rafayel complied, Sylus pushed his coated fingers past his lips, making him suck them clean. At the same time, Sylus turned to you, his dark eyes blazing into yours with lust and possessive hunger.

"Open up, baby," he ordered, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "I want you to taste how fucking sexy you are" Unable to resist the commanding tone and the intense desire burning in Sylus's eyes, you parted your lips, allowing him to lean in and spit the mouthful of your mixed essence past your lips. The taste of your own arousal, blended with Sylus's and Rafayel's unique flavors, was overwhelming, you couldn't help but moan at the taste, your tongue darting out to lick your lips clean. The depravity of the act, of being fed your own cum by both of your lovers, sent a dark thrill rushing through you. You could feel Rafayel's softening cock still buried deep inside your fluttering cunt, as Sylus's fingers slid from Rafayel's mouth and he leaned in to capture your lips in a searing, filthy kiss.

As the intense sensations and emotions overwhelmed you, your body went limp, and you collapsed back against Rafayel's chest. He immediately wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you close as you both caught your breath.

"It's okay cutie," Rafayel murmured, pressing soft kisses to your temple and stroking your hair soothingly. "You did so well, taking us both like that. Such a good girl."

As he spoke, Sylus began to carefully extract Rafayel's softening cock from your dripping cunt. He gathered more of the mixed essence that leaked out in its wake, bringing his coated fingers to his mouth to lick them clean with a low, appreciative moan. Meanwhile, Rafayel shifted your limp, sated body to lie across the bed, his arms still wrapped protectively around you. He brushed your sweat dampened hair back from your face, his fingertips tracing the delicate lines of your features with a lover's tender touch.

Before the comforting darkness of sleep could claim you, you felt the gentle caress of a warm, damp cloth against your sensitive, overheated skin. Sylus was there, his touch tender and almost reverent as he began to clean the sweat and other evidence of your passionate encounter from your body.

He started at your neck, wiping away the lingering marks of his passion - the reddened skin and saliva where he had sucked and bitten in the throes of lust. The warm cloth felt soothing against your skin, and you couldn't help but sigh softly as Sylus took his time, meticulously cleaning every inch of your neck, collarbone, and the tops of your breasts.

As Sylus tended to you, Rafayel kept you nestled against him, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other hand continued to stroke your hair, occasionally brushing a few lingering kisses across your forehead and temple. Sylus's gentle ministrations and Rafayel's tender affections was almost too much, and you could feel yourself slipping towards a deep, well earned slumber.

Sylus worked his way down, wiping the sweat and other fluids from your stomach, hips, and thighs with the same thorough, almost worshipful focus. By the time he reached your most intimate area, your breathing had evened out and your body had gone pliant, ready to surrender to the promise of rest.

#love and deepspace #lnds #lads #lads smut #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lads x you #lnds x you #love and deepspace reader #lads sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel smut #rafayel x mc x sylus #love and deepspace rafayel

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madamechrissy · 3 days ago

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=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- MDNI- Warnings- overuse/incorrect use of prescription meds, angsty asf in places, scene of a medical procedure, heavy subject matter, some sexual tension. Reader, 26, Dr. Gojo 34- Grey's vibes - this chap, fingering, teasing, tension like a mf, use of prescription drugs, a character with a medical condition, light angst =͟͟͞♡ WC this chap- 6.5k

♡ It's backkk- Reblogs and comments appreciated if you enjoy ♡

=͟͟͞♡ Part Six =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist

Part Seven

It’s been a week now, since you’ve kissed Doctor Gojo, but he smiles at you every morning, his cerulean eyes drinking you in, he gets you a coffee and something for breakfast every morning. Every elevator ride he’s right next to you, shoulders brushing, hands aching to entwine. During surgeries with you he’s a calm guidance, a hand on your back to gently guide you as he leans over.

You can hardly handle not being with him, you can hardly handle not just kissing him again, especially after that night he took you home. You want to know more about him, about what made him how he is, a brilliant and damaged man, a man that you simultaneously admire and fear, for all he makes you feel.

“Good morning, intern.” He says now, it’s been seven days since you kissed those plump lips, seven days of longing to feel his fingers against your skin.

“Good morning, Doctor Gojo.” You say with a little smile, one that melts him completely.

It’s been seven days since Satoru got to kiss you, seven days since he ruined it all, since he ruined what was just starting. You’re constantly in his mind, he has to see you all day every day and not be able to touch you, kiss you, hold you. Miwa has already tried to hook up again, but Gojo turned her down flat, as he did anyone who even looks at him.

You may not be his, but you will be.

This morning he’s brought you a little breakfast sandwich, you smile gratefully at it, but he sees your dark circles worsening. “Getting any sleep?”

“Uh… no, I’m not.” You admit softly, sitting next to him at the cafeteria, surprising him then. Usually you sit just a little away, or run off to work, but you’re next to him, legs brushing over your scrubs, making his body tense. “Thank you for breakfast always, it’s very sweet.”

“It’s nothing, cafeteria food.” He says with a little smirk, and you sigh, giggling now, a sound that makes his heart falter.

“It’s thoughtful. I’ve been thinking, too, you know.”

“That’s dangerous.” You roll your eyes at him, Satoru sips his coffee, feeling his adderall kicking in, he’s been back to his normal dosages now, well what he considers normal. “Thinking of what, Miss Perfect?”

“I so am not that, stop it.” You nudge at him then, sighing and looking around noticing it’s relatively quiet in the hospital. “I was thinking I miss you.”

Satoru’s heart pounds in his chest now. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I see you every day and miss you, and it’s fucked.” You sigh now, shaking your head and running a hand through your hair, hair that Satoru longs to enwrap his hand in, pulling while he has you bent over. His thoughts are all over the place when it comes to you, some sweet, some lewd, some overwhelming.

You’re all he can think of.

“Of course you miss me.” He smirks and earns your glare, before he sighs, a serious look on his face, leaning close to you now. “What is it that you miss? Me touching your pretty body?” His whisper in your ear causes shivers to go down your spine, you’re trembling then with need. “Ah, that’s it.”

“You’re such an ass.” You say through gritted teeth, his laugh tickles your ear as he wraps an arm casually around the back of your chair.

“If you ask for something, anything? I’d give it to you.”

“Aside from decent answers and commitment?”

“Ouch.” He eases back, and you shake your head.

“I don’t know why I said anything.” You stand and he grabs your wrist, you look down at his big hand, veins pressing up from his thin, pale skin, thumb brushing on your inner wrist.

“I’m sorry, I do miss you too. In every way.” He looks up at you under snowy lashes, as you sigh now, looking away from his perfect face. “Every way.”

“Yeah?” You manage to breathe out, he nods just a bit. “Why do you have to look at me like that?”

“Like what, sweets?”

“Like all… intense Gojo like.” He snorts now, easing back his hand, leaning in the chair and looking up at you.

“Hard not to look at you.”

“These eye bags turning you on?” You tease, sitting back down, his hand comes to brush your lower back, making you gasp just a bit.

“Anything about you makes me insane.” You bite your lower lip, looking down at your lap, barely able to function around this man. “Especially love that shampoo you washed your hair with last night.”

“Strawberry really gets you going hmm?”

You both laugh a bit then, so much unsaid and unknown lurking between you however, creating this… tension that’s so palpable.

“If you need me… you could utilize me you know.” You blink then.

“Utilize?”

“Mmhmm. Utilize my skills on your anatomy.”

“Jesus, Satoru.” He watches the color spark on your cheeks, smirking outwardly, but inside he’s dying for you, for any of you. “You think what, we could just… there’s no way.”

“If you need me I’m yours.”

“No chasing after infinity stones? At all?” Your eyes narrow a bit, assessing his face, which is far too serious for his teasing tone.

“None at all. I’d let you use me.” Your mind whirls, you shake your head quickly, sipping on your coffee, making your tummy flip with his images.

“You’re insane. Use you?”

“Mmhmm. Any way you wanted to. You work hard, you know.”

“I’m out.” You stand now, as he chuckles at you, mischievous little shit again, but you know there’s so much more, and his pull is irresistible. It’s not like you don’t know better, and it’s not like you’re giving in, but the idea of… cumming for him? You suddenly feel so hot you can’t take it.

He stands now too, walking with you to the elevator, god this elevator, where he stands too close, where his eyes get lidded, the first place you kissed. “Thoughts going through that pretty head?”

“You’re annoying, that’s the thoughts.”

“Hmm. And damaged.”

“Definitely.” You agree, earning his snort of amusement, as he turns and steps to you, backing you up until you’re against that elevator wall, his free hand on your waist, thumb brushing up, making you shiver. “You’re suggesting I what, fuck my frustration out on you? Where’s that lead?”

“I’d take any part of you, sweetheart.” His desperate words are your undoing, you yank him down, kissing him then, it’s desperate and messy and full of desire, before you pull back, as the elevator stops, and Satoru feels your heat against his thigh, pressed between yours.

“You’re the most toxic man.” You huff, shoving at him and stomping out, Satoru leans against the wall, head falling back, when you’re back inside, your coffee and sandwich not even in your hands somehow. The doors shut again, and you’re pressing the highest floor, shocking him. “You’d really just… get me off?”

“Oh I’d let you fuck my face any day baby.” You kiss him again, like a dam breaking, when he’s all over you, picking you up in his arms, your thighs are against his hips, making you grind eagerly as he groans, hand against the wall, holding you up as he nips your lower lips, pressing harder against you. Your cry makes your head fall back, his lips kissing up your throat.

“Fuck you, Satoru.” You grumble, gasping when he grabs your ass, pressing his cock against your eager cunt.

“Lemme make you cum.”

“Here!?”

“No… m’office…lemme feel her pulse around me, fuck.” You whimper then, breaths coming quicker and quicker.

“It doesn’t mean we’re good, though. I’m still m-mad. Just…”

“Be mad, but let me drink you.”

“Goddammit, ugh.” You’re eased down, dizzy as he presses the button to your floor, you try to compose yourself. “You’re infuriating.”

“I know.” Is all he says, softly now, brushing your hair back. “Meet me on break.”

He walks out and you’re shaking, he’s practically beaming, this ass of a man that you can’t stand, but also… love and want. Know he’s got issues out the ass, but fuck you want him, and could it just be sexual? You severely doubt it, not with how you feel as he kisses you, the energy altogether, but your pussy throbbing around nothing is trying to infiltrate your better judgement.

What a day it’s going to be.

“Someone just left a sandwich and coffee. Yum.” Maki says, her and Yuuta have split it in half, you can’t stop the laugh, an insane peal of laughter that makes half the hospital stare at you.

You’re losing your shit, aren’t you?

The day paces as it normally does, aside from stolen glances from a certain blue eyed ass of a man that was your boss. Was he really an ass, though? Or was he sweet, and damaged. But you’re not here to fix someone, not in that way, you want to fix people’s hands, their limbs, stitch them together, make them whole again. Not figuratively.

Literally.

You’re stitching up a patient as Maki walks in, pushing her glasses up just a bit on the bridge of her nose, observing. “You’re good at that now, damn.”

“Lots of suture duty.” You tease, rolling your eyes, smiling as you finish up and give the patient after care instructions. “How was it with Shoko?” You ask.

“Interesting, actually? I am surprised.” You both head to grab coffees, both failing to hold back your yawns.

“Right, I was so intrigued by it, too. Until…”

“Yeah, you’ve had a rough week.” She says, surprisingly soft, but she’s soft in places when it comes to her friends.

“It’s okay, I have to get through this. But thank you.” You hug her tightly, and then tense a bit when Satoru rounds the corner, some sugary concoction in his hand.

“How does he stay that thin?” She says, earning Gojo’s smirk.

“My ears are burning, talking about how handsome I am?” He says, brushing back his hair, back to his usual self, insufferable and cocky.

But you saw a different side of him, a side he clearly keeps hidden, and you hate how badly you want to unravel it, piece by piece, the mystery that is Doctor Gojo, that is Satoru. A carefree, unbothered and youthful man ninety percent of the time, a serious doctor nine percent, and one percent, a mess, vulnerable and distraught, tugging on your damn heart.

“Talking about how you have diabetes in your cup.” You tease then, and he gasps, hand to his chest.

“You two are like old ladies gossiping!”

“Says you.” You roll your eyes, and Maki looks between you both.

“I see something… over there.” She leaves you both now, and Satoru walks a little closer, sipping on his drink, you wipe off the little bit of foam on his lips, finger lingering too long.

“Messy.” You mumble, then he leans low, breath against your ear.

“You’re messy, from my very vivid memory.”

“Shush!” You’re heating up, when he pulls back, lips far too glossy and tempting, destroying you bit by bit.

“Office, meet me in ten.” He turns and walks off then, lanky body in those lavender scrubs and that white coat, you nervously look at your watch, noticing your heart rate is through the roof.

The moment you’re in there, the hunger just unleashes, his hands are all over, on your breasts over your scrubs and your bra, as you kiss him desperately, hand slipping under his scrub top, thumb along the soft white trail of his hair under his belly button. Hungry, desperate, devouring each other, until he’s picked you up, sitting you right on his desk, moaning

Satoru’s slipping his fingers under the stretchy waistband of your blue scrub pants, and once his finger brushes your soaked panties, you cry out softly, covering your mouth as he exhales, leaning further over you. “You’re soaked, sweetheart, you just stay this way?”

Around Satoru, yes, you do.

Your eyes roll back as his fingers brush up and down your panties, pressing even deeper. “G-god…” Is all you manage, letting your hand fall off your face to grip his white coat, pulling him so close. “F-feels so good…”

“Does it, baby?” He murmurs, slipping under them now, your breath is coming faster and faster, moaning softly when he finds your little clit, making your thighs tremble, your tummy clenching in desire. “Missed touching you, miss those pretty little moans.”

He kisses you as his finger rolls in circles, and when your lips connect it’s just too much, you feel too much for him, like something grabbing your heart, squeezing it like a vise. The tingles that shoot from his lips make you soak his fingers, long and cool pressing on your twitchy little clit, all while his mouth consumes you, his plush lips so pliant and hungry.

“Wanna cum f’me, pretty?” His husky words are too much, as you look into the swirling storms of those eyes, hips arching and rolling. But you’re too caught up then, as he slips a finger in, just looking at you.

Eyes that were black last week, dark and desolate, now so eager and bright, sparkling so brilliantly while he stretches you, one finger curling inside as he angles his arm. Eyes that filled with tears, the sadness as two tears had rolled down his cheeks, the desperation as those hands that are playing you gripped your face, mixing with all the pleasure he’s bringing.

“Look at you, fuck…” He’s whispering, and how he does look at you, like you’re everything and anything all at once.

“Satoru…” You’re tearing up as he makes you feel so good, kissing you again, you’re clinging to him while he’s kissing and licking up your neck to your ear, now pressing on the spongy little spot in your slick walls with two fingers. You hear it echoing in the office, how wet you are, as he nips your lower lip.

His cock is aching, tip leaking precum as he hears it, the squelching wetness of your overheated cunt on his fingers, your cheeks flushed so beautiful, eyes just glinting with tears. He pauses, breathless at the sight, all while you’re soaking his hand, his wrist even, as his other slips up the delicate curve of your back, watching you tremble, pressing your spot again and again.

“That’s it, let go for me.” He whispers, and you can’t then, you’re too invested, you’re too…

In love.

“Stop for a moment, please?” Satoru blinks snowy lashes in confusion for just a moment before he pulls back immediately, looking at you with concern.

“What is it, too rough?” He murmurs, so goddamn thoughtful it makes you cry more, and soon he’s panicking, as you’re shaking your head.

“God no, I want you so badly. It’s… I can’t do this casually. It’s too much, you’re so much.” You cup his face, watching the confusion as his fingers now rest on your waist once more, as he tries to control his breathing.

“Let me feel you cum, it’s all I need, we don’t have to sleep to-”

“No, it’s too much. Everything.” You take another breath, trailing a hand down his body, trying to calm your pounding heart, fingers brushing the soft material, your eyes lowering, sticky from tears.

“I’m sorry I said it. I am.” He whispers hoarsely, you shake your head then, taking a breath and resting your forehead on his chest.

“I forgive you, Satoru. I do.”

“Shit…” He exhales in relief, kissing you again, tiltitng your chin up, your head falls back as you cling to his shoulders, he drags you closer, until he’s right between your thighs. “You probably shouldn’t.”

“You just feel how you feel. I feel how I feel. It is different but…” Your hand cups his perfect face now, exhaling, breath tickling his lips, as he aches for you. “This deserves some sort of chance, but a real one. Not… me fucking you because I’m aching to. It can’t be that.”

“Do you want… more? To try for…”

“To try for you, yes. I want to. I want to… know you, Dr. Gojo, know every bit of you, not just what I have seen so far. I want the real you.” You say softly, as he feels his own emotions take hold of him.

Who has ever wanted to truly know Satoru Gojo, the man behind the pretty bright smile? Surely Suguru, but as for women, his experience has always been sexual, or just hateful in the case of Utahime. Friendship perhaps, but never the combination of friendship, of sex, of more, of you ripping open his soul with just a pretty look, god he just enjoyed hearing you breathe.

“Being without you is fucking torture.” He says softly, pulling you even more against him now, to where you can feel how much he wants you. “I’ll do anything for another chance, I’ll try… to open up.”

“That’s all I want, I don’t want to ‘fix you’ or change you, just know you.” You sniffle now, aching to speak those words, that you’re in love, but it’s insanity. “That's all I’ve wanted.”

“Then I promise, I’ll try to be… open. I promise. But… if you hate-”

“Shh.” You touch his lips with your fingertip now, shaking your head as you feel it, his insecurity, the most conceited man deep down is so terrified you will hate who he is. “It couldn’t be further from the truth of what I feel.”

Satoru’s left speechless at you, torn between making you cum, kissing you, holding you, fuck you have his head swimming, his mind whirling. “There’s a lot you don’t know, though. Or think you do.”

“And for me too. I… shit…” You feel it then, the stabbing pain that’s been blissfully gone, making you wince as he presses his fingers on it carefully, frowning at you.

“Hurting again? For how long?”

“Just this week. Not bad like before, more like… stabbing, ugh.”

“Hmm, stress probably doesn’t help. Stress like a pillhead doctor madly obsessed with you?”

“Satoru! Don’t call yourself that.” You whisper the words, head still throbbing, Satoru smiles just a bit. “No self deprecating humor.”

“None at all? Dick could help the headaches-”

“Satoru!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But it really could.” You glare as he chuckles, so happy to just have you in his arms, near him once more. “I can get you some more of that medicine if you need.”

“The one you shot in my ass cheek?” You raise a brow, and earn his more devious smile. “Actually it did help.”

“Still should scan it again soon, the tap should have helped longer.”

“I am under a lot of stress.” Both of your beepers go off then, and you two sigh, as he helps you down off the desk, now towering so tall over you, your head falls back to look at him while he caresses your lips longingly.

“A date, tonight, no matter what. Even if it’s three am. Promise me?” He asks softly, as your beepers go off again, but his arms are on either side of you, again his lips hovering. “You deserve one, a real one, not whatever we’ve been trying and failing royally at.”

“A real date, where we… talk.”

“Then-”

“Talk. We need to just talk, okay? Before…” You brush against him, making his nostrils flare, a teasing little smile under your lashes then. “Before more again.”

“Fuck. Yeah?”

“Yeah, better be a good date, been asking me all this time, hmm?” You dart away then, running out on him after a peck on his cheek, leaving him for just a few moments, trying to pull himself together.

This insane feeling for you, the fear of losing you, is all so much, he’s shaky when he grabs a bottle, hesitating just a bit. He doesn’t want to be fucked up tonight with you, he wants to be all there, but he knows he needs to have some, to be a perfect doctor, to help everyone in the best way he can.

Perfect Doctors can’t have shaky hands.

Perfect Doctors can’t have bad days.

Satoru Gojo is the perfect Doctor, and he can’t fuck up, but he doesn’t want to fuck up with you again, his heart can’t take it. He takes a xanax and puts it under his tongue rather than right up his nose, watching as his hands slowly stop shaking, as he slows his heart rate, the blood pressure dropping just a little, you have him so on edge and needy.

He sucks his fingers, just to taste more of you, that mixes with the sweet and bitter xanax, he’s not sure any two things really taste better, thoughts of snorting it right off your pussy fogging his damn brain. He smacks at his own cheek, shaking himself out of it, walking out to see you commanding a whole fucking room, you’re straddled right on a patient and pressing on their chest as the nurses wheel you.

God you’re fucking impeccable.

Satoru clears out of his obsession with you for just a moment, running in to help you, as your compressions tire your little arms out, you seem so small to him suddenly, on this huge guy pressing as quickly as you can. As they get him to the room you look at Satoru, face exhausted so clearly, he carefully touches your shoulder, fingers brushing against you.

“Let me take over, champ.”

“No I- oh look.” The patient is breathing now, blinking his eyes as he gasps, and sees you, his hands coming to your hips.

Satoru thinks of making his heart stop for good.

You blink rapidly, as the man relaxes, eyeing you with wide eyes then. “Oh my… I’m so sorry I… thank you!?”

“You’re welcome.” You smile softly, the man is probably as buff and probably as tall as Satoru if that’s possible, as you clear your throat and try to get his hands off your hips. “What’s your name, since we’re so personal now?”

He laughs just a bit, smile on his face so big, releasing you as Satoru helps you down, glaring at the patient that dares to try to rizz up his girl after almost dying, who the fuck is he. “Choso. I guess you’re now like my angel huh?”

“Oh no, not an angel.” You giggle a bit at him, at his sweet smile, feeling the absolute glare from Satoru at you as you put fingers to his pulse. “Choso, hmm, what happened? Do you remember?”

“I have a pretty bad heart, unfortunately.” He mumbles, slipping up his shirt to reveal his chest, with a line right down the center, making your own heart hurt for him, with his tired little smile. “It’s on borrowed time while I wait for another.”

“How young were you?” You touch his chest, and Satoru tries to observe you as a doctor, not as the girl he needs, so proud of you as you go over everything, fuck he barely even has direction for you.

You’re a perfect intern, already.

He wishes he was just a little more like you back when he interned, yeah you’re emotional, you are too invested, but he loves it about you, watching it all unfold as it unfortunately looks like the man is giving you heart eyes. Satoru switches to doctor mode, peering now at the medical records that get brought to him by Miwa, frowning then.

“You needed a heart a good two years ago.” Satoru murmurs softly, and you look over at him curiously, Choso smiles a bit, brushing back messy dark hair.

“I think your pretty intern is making my heart better.”

“Oh, no, stop that. Let’s get him on a heparin drip please?” You say to one of the nurses, who runs off while Satoru peers at his number on the list.

“He’s number two actually. So, you’ll have to get admitted, we should monitor this until one becomes available.” Satoru says, and Choso finally peels his violet eyes off you for a moment.

“It could be… too late though?”

“We’ll do everything we can to keep it beating until then. Let’s get a current ultrasound of his heart, see if there’s anything to prolong it.” You nod then, but Choso grabs your hand, and Satoru thinks of fucking his heart up for a split second, as you look down warmly at him.

“Can she do it?” He asks Satoru and he goes to say no, an ultrasound tech will, but you’re already speaking before his brain works.

“I can be here, if you want, but we do have ultrasound techs, they’re so amazing at it too.”

“Could you be?” You nod again, as you finally step out now, frowning as Satoru hands you the charts.

“Shit, he got this as a teen, no wonder. He’s… thirty. He’s so sweet, fuck I hope we can help him.”

“Sweet, huh?” He glares at you with those icy blue eyes, you laugh softly then, shaking your head as you further flip through the pages.

“Satoru, he’s just thankful I saved him. For now, at least.”

“Uh huh.”

“Silly.” You gently brush a hand up his arm, looking around at the bustling hospital, making his skin prick with goosebumps, looking at your pretty face, feeling so possessive he can’t stand it at the moment.

You’re not his.

Not yet.

Why would you choose him? What if someone comes along and promises the damn world to you, what if they want exactly as you do, would you leave him so far behind? How can he ask you to sacrifice so much, is he so selfish, truly, when it comes to you?

He is.

After getting the ultrasound, Satoru has you in his office for a much different reason than earlier, as you both study a teenage heart working overtime to pump through a grown man's body. “It's insane, it's still beating at this age, he clearly takes good care of his body.”

Satoru scowls at you, making you blink a bit and then snort at his statement. “Oh, you like his body huh?”

“You're cute when you’re jealous. Focus or no date, maybe I’ll go have a little dinner with-”

“You’re a brat, fine, intern you tell me the option I have here, because there’s really only one.” You sigh, standing in front of him, he rests his chin on your head, hands coming to your waist, possessively thinking of how only he should, as he inhales your sweet scent.

“An LAVD is his best option, it could give him up to a year or two? And with as high as he is on the list, it shouldn’t be too long. But then, all sorts of potential complications with the surgery.” Your fingers trace the ventricles, so tiny and dark on the scan, of the sweet man’s heart, hating this for him. “But you’ll do the surgery, right Satoru?”

“Of course I will.”

“If anyone can do it right, it’s you.” Your words make his heart falter, while he pulls you even tighter against him, enwrapping you.

“Of course I will, I’m not worried about the surgery, he also seems pretty tough, and a good will, that matters.”

“It’s not fair, though, is it?”

“None of it is, nothing that happens to anyone, sweetheart.” He kisses your temple, enjoying being near you again, how has something that just started become so special. “So, proceed with the LAVD? Or?”

“Monitor him for a couple of days first I think? Before the extreme.” You say softly, and Satoru nods then, pulling you tighter against him. “I’ll go over the options, he seems comfortable with me.”

“Very comfortable.” You laugh, shaking your head and turning around to look up at him, tapping at his pointy chin, then leaning up, hands slipping up his chest.

“He’s sweet and he needs something right now, if he’s comfortable with me, I’ll be there for him. But it doesn’t hurt to have a jealous Gojo.” You grin and wiggle your brows, gasping then as he grips you with his strong hands, leaning low.

“Should I show you how jealous?” He steps you until you’re against his wall, his thigh between yours, vivid images of you arched in his bed filling his mind.

“That date, remember? We have an hour until the shift ends, you gonna pick me up and everything from the house?”

“I sure will. Fine, go on and talk to him heartbreaker, I’ll see about having the staff order a device just in case he agrees. And then…” He kisses your lips again. “I’ll call you when I head to your house.”

“See you then, Doctor Gojo.” You smile as you slip off again, as he rests his head on the wall, the inner workings of his mind spinning in circles when you walk out, he pulls his bottle out of his jacket, wondering if he should have one more bar, but puts it back instead as Miwa walks in.

“Need anything before I head out, Doctor Gojo?” She asks, brightly bouncing up to him, he shakes his head, dismissing her with a little smile.

“I’m good, go home and relax.”

“Oh, I don’t mind helping… at all.” She trails her hand down Gojo’s stomach and he tenses, panicking as he looks over her shoulder, the door cracked open, how shitty would this even look. He grabs her wrist, noticing her flush of excitement.

“I said I’m good, Miwa.”

She pouts now. “You look so worked up, don’t you need a stress relief, you used to enjoy it.”

Satoru firmly takes her hand off, shaking his head. “I’m not interested.”

She looks like she’s about to cry then, irritating Gojo though he supposes he should feel… bad or something? He can’t bring himself to, maybe it’s the xanax but her tears don’t matter. “You’re not even with her though? The intern…”

“I will be.” He smiles then, sighing. “Keep it a secret but I’m in love.”

“In.. love!?”

“Mmm. Yeah shush though. Don’t ask again, mmkay sweets?” Satoru pats her head, firmly pushing her away, as gentle as he can. “Bye bye.” Satoru walks out, leaving her in tears, planning every damn detail of a real date with you as you go and talk to your intriguing new patient.

“Hello, angel.” You flush a bit at the handsome patient, clearly exhausted with dark circles, pale and drawn, but so bright and sweet.

“Well hello, Mr. Kamo.”

“Choso, please.”

“Choso, we have a couple options here. But I’m gonna be honest, they’re both a little risky.” You sit on the bed, just the edge of it near his hips, wires everywhere, monitors beeping with his weak heart. You try not to look as concerned as you feel for him.

“Be real with me, it’s a shitty heart.”’

“No! It did its job and more, but it’s past its prime. You took good care of it, I can tell.” You say with a little wink, earning his blush. “Lifting heavy?”

“Not too heavy, restricted in what I can do. But I try.”

“So, there’s something called an LAVD, a Left Ventricular assist device, basically it can help keep this heart here pumping until you get a transplant. It could be tomorrow, it could be months, you’re high up which is good!”

“But…”

“But, the surgery has got its own risk, we’d be operating on a weak heart.”

“And if I don’t?” You sigh, looking over at him, and he exhales. “Ah, it’s pretty bad huh?”

“It’s not great. Um… we have a few days of leeway at least if you stay and relax here for a bit, think of it, see if something comes.”

“So relaxing here.” He gestures to his wires, and you bite your lip, hating that something like this is happening.

“You’re so… positive.”

“Should I not be?” He smiles lazily, eyes on your lips for a moment, before they slide back up to your thigh. “Got the prettiest doctor ever.”

“You mean Doctor Gojo?” You tease.

“Not my type.” You both laugh, as he inhales from it, touching his chest, the monitor spiking just a bit.

“Flirting is making your heart race, Mr. Kamo.”

“Shit.” You both laugh softly again, you put your hand over his, covered in intricate tattoos.

“We will try everything to get you to live for the transplant, as best as we can, but it’s ultimately your decision. I’ll go over more with you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds good, doc.”

“Mmm, weird not getting called ‘intern’. Have a good night, then, we’ll monitor you for now, try to get comfortable, okay?” You turn off the lights as dim as you can, handing him the remote. “There’s always Twilight Marathons on channel fifty five.”

“Oh shit, who doesn’t love that?”

You grin as he does. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Sure thing angel.” You roll your eyes, shutting the door quietly, as Satoru texts your phone, making it buzz.

Satoru: I’m off already, I’m going home to get ready. An hour sound good?

You: It’s actually happening!?!?

Satoru: Nothing’s stopping this shit.

You can’t stop the smile from hitting your lips, rushing to the locker room, and soon you’re throwing a million outfits all over the ground, as you yell out Maki’s name, she runs in, seeing you in just your panties whistling. “Damn baby, just stay home with me hmm?”

“Don’t tempt me, now.” You wink and then you both giggle, Yuuta and Toge walk by, and both blush and turn, but Toge runs off, earning you shaking your head and laughing softly.

“You’ll kill that poor boy with those titties.” Maki shuts the door thankfully, and you’re holding up several outfits. “The red top, it’s cold so wear that pretty puffy black jacket with the fur.”

“Oh god this is why I adore you.”

“Only good taste?” Maki sits in your chair, and you wiggle your bros.

“Love you for all sorts of reasons.”

“Ooh baby. No, that’s hot as fuck… those leggings… hmm what about thigh high boots?”

“Yes, shit! I was thinking it was too cold to be sexy, you’ve saved me.” Maki bends down to help you zip up, then you’re throwing the jacket as she dabs on a little makeup, some blush and gloss.

“Damn you look good, like you slept four hours at least.”

“Bitch!” You both snort, as you work on brushing your hair, then hear the text, that Satoru is here. “Oh shit, I’m okay!?”

“You’re perfect. And hey…” She brushes your hair back carefully, serious Maki is here, not the joking and fun girl. You tense a bit at it, looking up curiously. “Just let yourself… know each other, okay? Sex is cool but…”

“No, I agree. I need to know him. We had sex so soon and…”

“I can’t blame you now.” She winks, and you blush, making your cheeks even brighter under the loose powder along your cheeks. “Allow yourself to feel, to have fun, but be careful.”

“Wise Maki, who knew!?”

“I am pretty amazing.” You hug her then, as the doorbell rings.

“You are. Shit, Toge may kill him, let me go!” You both dart down the stairs, as Toge scowls at Satoru, while he pats his head.

“Hey kiddo. And…” He pauses as you step down, exhaling at the sight of you, so gorgeous, you always are, but seeing you outside of scrubs addled him even further. Like some corny ass rom com from the nineties when you descend the old stairs of your home, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“Hey, Satoru. I’m ready.” You smile at him nervously, as he clears his throat, blush decorating the infamous ‘Dr. Hojo’s’ cheeks, as he opens his mouth and closes it, then opens it again.

“You look gorgeous, shit.” He manages, rubbing the back of his neck, as you shyly look down.

“Thank you, Satoru. You look handsome.” You take in his own appearance, so gorgeous as always, but he’s also got a thick winter coat over him, but it’s this fancy overcoat, looking so good on his lithe frame. His eyes sparkle, bright like you know them to, as he takes your hand, kissing the back of it. “All gentlemanly?”

“Trying to be, sweetheart. Are you ready?” You nod eagerly, as your friends watch you both a little cautiously, as you both walk out into the chilled snow night, nearly christmas, your house has little snowmen and lights, brightening the cool, clear night sky, as you see your breath while you walk to his car.

“It’s so warm, thank you!” You say once you’ve slid into the still running car, nice and toasty, he slides in, a hand on your thigh over your fleece leggings, leaning close to you, so close you taste his sweet breath.

“Are you ready for an actual date with me?” He teases, and you nod, when he eyes your glossy lips. “I need to know that flavor, for scientific purposes.”

“Oh, scientific?” You tease back, he just smirks, and you press a kiss, a quick one, that makes his arm wrap around you, hand at the small of your back, exhaling against them.

“Cherry vanilla.”

“You’re insane, yes!” He’s smirking a bit, big hand under your puffy jacket, pressing on the soft cotton of your sweater, as your arms wrap his neck. “So where is this date?”

“Surprise. Are you ready to go?” His thumb caresses your jaw, studying your heart wrenching beauty in the quiet car, humming with the motor, heat pouring on both of you, though the heat from your bodies far surpasses it.

“I’m ready, Dr. Gojo.”

To know him, to actually know him.

You’re more than ready.

And Satoru, with your taste on his lips, scent filling his car, the sight of you along with the feel of your thigh under his palm, and just how beautiful you are, you fill his every fucking sense. All he can think, over and over, is that he can’t fuck this up, he can’t fuck this chance at you up.

He has to be real, he has to open, finally, and hope that you’ll accept him, because he thinks it just might take him out if you don’t. Little does he know, the words of love threaten to spill with every breath, and you know it’s toxic, maybe bad patterns, but you’d take this man any damn way he was.

I am backkk, I know a few of you were really interested in this so I hope you enjoy where it goes. DON'T worry- Choso will be FINE he is a Denny Duquette reference (this is a Grey's AU aha) but a happy ending for him. I look forward to your comments and now these shouldn't be so far apart- I'm back on track hehe

Taglist #1 (open still!) @lost-resonance @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @labelt-san @jkslaugh97 @shadeowz @gojo1228 @jaeminaur @httpstoyosi @angel1of-death @seeing-stars-alt @bol0-de-morang0 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @trishiepo0 @inthedarkshadows000 @gina239 @san-it-is-i-guess @pelicanpizza @gojo1228 @ducky1232 @inthedarkshadows000 @eclecticmentalitypersona @burguhndy @levislug @addehehe @sluttyofgojo @msniks @xixflower @ambiguouslady42 @kiaraandrea @jjknanamin @suguruscousin @silverfangmarks @atiny-99 @thatssoambs @kanekisheart @mahalsuya @aldebrana

#doctor satoru #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #low-key yandere satoru #whipped gojo #obsessed gojo #doctor au #grey's anatomy vibes #gojo x reader smut #gojo x y/n #gojo angst #jjk angst

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torlibram · 2 days ago

Text

The broth plot thickens...

I was sitting at the bar when he walked in. He was tucking his collar back up over the costume beneath, nobody gets into Joe's without a flash of the mask or cape, and his gaze flicked around the room as he strode towards the bar. I guess he didn't see any challenges to his authority because the stride took on an extra swagger for the last few steps.

"Vodka, no ice," he said flatly and Joe nodded, placing a glass before him before turning to pull the bottle down from the shelf. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he tensed up, then forced relaxation as Joe up-ended the bottle over his glass. Joe made to turn away again, but the newcomer's hand blurred as he caught Joe's wrist. "Leave it," he told Joe coldly. I saw the colour of his sleeve as he took the bottle and I knew.

"You're him," I told him, raising my glass in salute. "Razorfin."

"What's it to you?" he snarled. I raised my hands in apology.

"Whoa, no offence intended, man." None out loud, anyway, I thought. "Just that you're the guy that took Flashflood all the way out to sea."

Razorfin smirked. "Yeah. What were Team Ultra thinking, putting a water hero up against me?"

I laughed and tipped my glass to him again. "Heroes? Thinking with something other than muscles?" That drew an actual laugh. "What was it you actually did to him, anyway? All I heard was the usual scuttlebutt and that you had killed him."

He refilled his glass and held it up to the dim lighting, studying the way the alcohol clung to the sides. "Poetic justice," he said quietly. "A tank of water small enough to stop him getting any strength behind his waves, sealed to stop him pushing the water out altogether, and a grating with four dozen piranha behind it. I'd cut him a few times during the fight, naturally, then lured him into there. All those leetle, teeny fishes with leetle, teeny teeths." He chuckled malevolently. I did my best to hide a shudder.

"Who are you, anyway?" he asked. I sheepishly pulled up the old hoodie I was wearing to show the bowl with the 'S' stylised above it in wisps of steam. He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you were still operating. Captain Crouton, isn't it?"

I winced, the local rag had dubbed me that after the big heist four years ago; I was still trying to live it down. "Might as well be," I shrugged, "my original codename got lawyered to death."

He thought for a moment. "Souperm-"

It was my turn to snarl, I tried to put as much effortless menace into as he had, but even to my ears, it rang hollow. "Don't finish that word."

"Or what?" he sneered. "You'll garnish me?"

I sneered right back at him, but again there was the difference between us: He was out-and-out violence, barely restrained by a veneer of manners. I was of an older school of villain, better suited to rough and tumble with a few cops every now and again, give them stories they could tell their kids, give their uniforms stains that would take weeks to get all the way out. Maybe I would get a hero's attention now and again, splash the papers, remind everyone that I was still around, but I wasn't exactly an A-list threat.

And that was the problem, I realised. Razorfin was, if you'll pardon the expression, a big fish in a small pond. The local squad from Team Ultra were B- and C-listers, just like me. He would go through them one after another until he drew some heavy attention. The New York squad, even. Then most of the town would get flattened in over-enthusiastic super-shenanigans and the game would be over for all of us, even the survivors. No, Razorfin had to go, and it had to be permanent. Not like those A-listers who turn out to have been a clone or a robot duplicate or whatever. My gut churned at the thought of what I was going to have to do.

I raised a finger at Joe. "His bottle's on me," I told him. "Fair play for getting Flashflood off the scene." Joe nodded.

"He was just for starters," said Razorfin.

I nodded as if in agreement. "So who's next?" He shrugged.

"Whoever gets in my way."

I stood up and reached out to my power. Maybe it was something in the set of my shoulders, maybe he was just wired and edgy, but suddenly he was in a combat stance, the coat shredding away as his fins flicked out to attack positions. I never gave him a chance to move any further, my power rolled out of me and enveloped him in a cloud that only I have ever been able to see.

He managed a single scream as he melted. Most of his body from ribs to knees was dissolving, losing structure and cascading to the floor. I kept out of arm's reach, just in case and steadied myself on the bar. I'd never killed before, but it was the only way I could see to prevent him from running amok. He managed a last word: "Why?"

"Because you don't want to play the game." I told him. "You just want to hurt people and then hurt more people and hurt them worse and so on until someone manages to stop you. Because that's what you call fun. Well, that someone is me. Because I like this town. I like the people, I like a quiet life with what remains of my ill-gotten gains from a life of crime. And you? You couldn't give a shit, could you? Which is why I did this now before anyone else gets hurt."

I took a deep breath and coughed. What? The smell rising from the pool of villain-turned-soup was unexpected. I mean, I don't get to choose the flavour, but thematically, I would have thought it would be some kind of chowder, a bisque maybe. But no, all that was left of Razorfin were his feet, shins, arms, head and a gallon of minestrone.

You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers, but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic supervillain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.

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jscrawls · 1 day ago

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Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, mentions of injury, poor writing, ooc writing,

Part 18: turning point

🔹🔹🔹

The police come to the manor the next morning to question you about the incident, one of them was in the garage looking over the car while another officer sits with you in the foyer with a notepad and pen like this was the forties, how quaint.

Thankfully for your sanity they don't seem to judge you much as you recount the incident in a clinical voice, after just a few moments Bruce joined you on the couch and throws an arm around your shoulder and silently sets his hand on your leg. you nearly rolled you eyes but bit your tongue for the time being.

sure he's no longer a stranger to you, but it pisses you off how he acts like he's concerned and supportive when there's other people around after the way things went last night. you have to wonder if it’s for your sake or his image sake.

He remained pretty much silent, only chiming in to tell the officer he can get camera footage sent to them to show when exactly you and Damian left and returned, the hand resting on your arm tightened near enough to bruise during certain parts of the questioning, his nails dug into your skin when you went into detail about the gun against your head and the threats against the boy. he only relaxed his grip on you when the topic changed to questions about whether you knew the man or not, whether you believed the attack was connected to your concussion, etc.

As soon as the officers leave so do you, you shrug off Bruce as soon as he attempts to speak to you and trot to your room. You don't care how childish it comes off as, you're still pissed and you know you’ll restart things if he pushes you right now.

You hardly speak to anyone for days after that, suddenly you're no longer to be found in the library or going on walks around the property edges, you stay in your room and push yourself to train to the point of incapability and then go down to the kitchens to feed yourself and repeat the cycle, it’s terribly unhealthy and you’re well aware of that, but you’d rather hurt your body while building yourself up into something useful rather than hurt what little rapport you have left with the waynes.

And that's just how things stay, Bruce avoids you after you shrugged him off and Alfred only makes half-hearted attempts to engage with you, finding excuses such as needing to clean your room or insisting on bringing you tea. The kids must know what's going on because they awkwardly avoid you, Duke constantly stumbles over his words when you walk by and leaves the room if you run into him in the kitchen, Cass stares at you silently from corners and nooks, never directly engaging with you. you haven't even seen Tim once in days, it's like he just up and removed himself from the home. Seems the only one not totally pissy is the youngest…

“can we talk?….” his knuckles rap in the door as he let's himself right in, clearly not caring to wait for an answer first.

You sit up from where you'd been doing pushups to frown at the kid, your shirt sticks to your skin from sweat and you're sure you look like a royal mess at the moment. “….i’m a little tired, damian.”

He rolls his eyes at you and drops down on your bed with a loud thump, mossy eyes scrutinizing your form while you cap a water bottle and chug half of it in one go.

“no you’re not, i just….wanted to talk.” his voice loses bravado part way through and he looks away while awkwardly fiddling with the bedding, picking at random strings like they're so very interesting. You sigh as you set the bottle down and wrap your arms around your knees. “….okay, what’s up kiddo.”

For a moment he's quiet, fidgeting in place as he tried to gather himself into his usual snarky form, you look around the room to avoid silently staring the kid down and make him more uncomfortable.

“i wanted to…. apologize….for what happened.” Damian looks uncharacteristically out of his element, that almost sounded painful for him to choke out judging by the wince of his lips like he sucked on a lemon.

With a sigh you roll to your feet and stretch your arms above your head, muscles aching something fierce in protest to your overdoing it. “what happened in the city isn’t your fault, you're not responsible for anyone else's wrong doings, kiddo.”

Damian just loosely crosses his arms over his chest while looking up at you, his expression hard to read. But you'd like to think you've got a decent read on the kid by now, his body language screams unhappiness.

“i forced you to go out, you and father are fighting because i disobeyed his orders.” his tone drops to something more sullen, your gut twists at the way he refers to Bruce's rules as ‘orders’, it doesn't sit right with you, too painfully familiar. Your own childhood ‘orders’ echoes through your mind and you quickly dig your nails into your palm to distract yourself, the pain is grounding, familiar like a family friend.

The mattress squeaks under your weight when you drop down beside him, your hands awkwardly clenching in your lap before you do something insanely out of character like trying to comfort the boy. hopefully he doesn't get grossed out by your sweaty form.

“look, i won’t lie to you or sugarcoat things, we shouldn’t have gone out without telling bruce or alfred, you’re smart enough to see that. but anything between me and bruce is just that, between me and him. things are….difficult right now, a disagreement was bound to happen no matter the cause.”

Your gentle voice doesn't seem to put the kid at ease, he turns towards you with a pouty scowl on his face as he practically bristles like a cat.

“that doesn’t change things, i almost got you killed again.” he gestures at your head while speaking, you're suddenly reminded of the fact that Damian was also there when the concussion happened, how many times has he watched his parent figure narrowly avoid death?

“….damian, you’re not responsible for me. in any way, shape or form. i’m an adult, you’re a child. you’re supposed to do….child things, i don’t know. The point is that anything that happens to me isn't your fault. Neither you or Bruce are my guard dogs.”

Damian swallows audibly and looks away from you, his eyes again downcast as he starts pulling on a loose thread on one of the pillow cases.

His voice is heavy when he speaks again, refusing to meet your gaze as he all but whispers. “….i wish you remembered.”

Something about that makes your intuition prickle, you don't know if it's the heaviness in his voice or the way Damian seems to suddenly look worn, more like a soldier than a child.

You don't like the way it makes your skin crawl, your chest heavy like there's cement behind your ribs. “…remember what?”

Damian looks up and opens his mouth to speak, them slowly closes it.

“….. Never mind…. You…you were really cool, how you beat that guy up….”

You know it's a deflection, and the way he's looking at you you know he knows you know. But you're not gonna push the boy. So instead you just mess up his hair in an annoying way.

“…don’t mention it…”

There's a lot of unspoken words hanging in the air, you know he's holding something back, something that's hurting him, and for a moment you think of spilling your own demons, to tell him you're not who he thinks you are, this isn't a mission after all, you don't have any goals here, you have no reason to keep pretending except your own cowardly desire to sweep your real self under the rug. Pretend you're almost something half good. yet it doesn't come out, maybe one day it'll rot you from the inside out until someone sees the real you gaping from between the cracks. Until then both of your jaws remain stubbornly clenched.

🔹🔹🔹

Nightwing squats on the ledge of the warehouse roof as he peers through the skylight, positioning himself just right so he doesn't cast a shadow into the building. watching the wannabe Mafia punks sort through various stolen goods on top of the wooden crates and old tables.

It's almost funny how clueless they are to being watched, thanks to these people batman's benched and the GCPD is scrambling for more manpower with the increasing attacks, luckily none so bad as the first night but it's clear what they're doing. Establishing presence. Nightwings gloved hands tighten around his eskrima sticks as a few of them laugh loud enough over something to be heard from his position.

“How many we looking at?” A mechanical voice hums from behind, Nightwing doesn't have to look to know red hood's stalking up to him.

“Looks like two, maybe three dozen, could be more coming with how quickly they're cracking boxes open. Like they're expecting more product to sort through.” Nightwing replies quietly, not taking his eyes off the thugs.

He feels a hand briefly land on his shoulder as red hood kneels by him, also trying to avoid casting a shadow in the minimal moonlight peering through the clouds.

“sounds like a party, already tagged the getaway cars?” Wordlessly Nightwing taps his com twice, Oracle chimes in red hoods ear to answer his question.

“tagged and plates all already ran, we'll have a full list of every registration within an hour.” Red Hood hears her loudly sipping on something in his com and snorts in amusement, focusing back on the men inside. “Penguins?”

Nightwing shakes his head, leaning closer to the glass to keep an eye on a man moving out of sight. “someone new, still trying to pin down the head.” Red Hood sharply turns his head to look at him, Nightwing can guess at his expression under the helmet.

“they're operating in penguins usual territory? This'll go to shit quickly once word gets out…” he groans quietly and rubs the back of his neck, he pulls his Glock out and starts checking and rechecking his ammo, pulling his extra mags out and checking those too.

“…so…. We gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Nightwing murmurs without looking away from the men, though he doesn't miss how red Hood throws his head back and sighs.

“your ass, or the little spat B and operater had?” Oracle's voice crackles in both their ears, Nightwing snorts while red Hood sighs again. “Can you not talk about asses right now, I'd like to keep my appetite thanks.”

Nightwing playfully elbows him, snickering quietly at his reaction. “You're such a child, man. You'll get the talk from Bruce eventually.”

Oracle also giggles in both their ears, taking another obnoxiously loud sip of whatever it is she's drinking. “Someone's gotta break the ice around here.”

“I'm not talking about someone else's marriage issues.” Red Hood huffs, stubbornly checking his weapons one more time before watching the thugs below them again.

“Well too bad, I am. Operater looked ready to put themselves in jail and B nearly burst a blood vessel when he found out, you should see the clips I put together from the parking lot cams.”

“I don't blame them, B’s way over reacting and being a smothering jackass.” Red Hood replies tensely.

“He's not being smothering.” Nightwing rolls his eyes and corrects himself when both Oracle and Red hood scoff loudly. “Okay he's a little smothering, but it's more like….thin blanket smothering than heavy pillow smothering though. He's smothering with love and concern.”

“meat rider.” Red hood mutters under his breath, Nightwing elbows him in offense. “Shut it, how else is he supposed to respond to the near public execution?”

“you and I both know that if someone pointed a gun at the little demon B would do the same thing, it's like he forgets that people outside of costumes can do more than freak out. Plus he's so goddamn weird around them now.” Red hood scowls under his helmet, do they need to have this discussion here?

Oracle clears her throat quietly. “Well…I agree with that sentiment…but…” her voice takes on a hesitant edge, both Nightwing and red Hood glance at each other in confusion.

“…but…?” Nightwing presses on. “…but, I think we can agree that mentally torturing someone in a parking lot is just a bit extreme right?” At both their silence she continues. “you saw the clips from red Robin right? You'd think they'd just leave as soon as the threat was incapacitated, not shove a gun down their throat while literally interrogating them.”

Nightwing hesitantly speaks up, “I mean, obviously yeah. But they recently survived something traumatic, take it from the guy who's been in their shoes, it can fuck up your entire response system.”

“Night, a coma doesn't teach you how to successfully crack my programs and rip them out of hardware by the roots. A coma doesn't make you try to stab people or beat someone half to death. Whatever's going on with them isn't normal and we're trying to figure out where it's coming-” red Hood interrupts Oracle before she can continue. “Hang on, you're telling me you think they're what, a body double? An alien spy? You letting the old man's paranoia get to you now Oracle?” “…I'm just checking all our bases, B and red robins doing it too, It's precautionary.”

Nightwing grabs red hoods shoulder before he can react, putting his finger to his lips before gesturing down below them. “Don't lose focus.” His voice is nearly a hiss, squeezing his shoulder once before letting him go.

“…you're the one who's been going off about B lately, now you're spying on operater for him?” red Hood grumbles as he shifts, moving away from the glass to peer over the edge of the building when he hears the rumble of an engine in the distance.

“Unknown vehicle, quarter mile away. Traffic cam shows an old fire truck heading your way. Now don't call it spying, that makes it sound creepy.” Oracle's voice echoes slightly as they hear her shuffling through the ear pieces, probably adjusting her headset.

“I've got eyes on it, I'll call it what it is Oracle. You're butthurt about the hacking fail so you're going to extremes on them.” Red hood mumbles, ducking down as the truck slowly pulls up to the warehouse.

“As if you're not constantly butthurt about something, weren't you pissy for a week because they didn't pick your movie?”

“like they've ever favored the godfather over Lord of the rings, I know once they watch it they'll obviously see the superior choice.” red hood huffs exasperatedly, clearly still bitter.

nightwing holds a hand up, red hood shuffles back to his side to peer down at the men, he watches them all shuffle towards the entrance just as the firetruck parks in the alley beside the building. “more goons, great.” red hood sighs out sarcastically.

“another eight, looks to be armed. got the deets on the truck oracle?” nightwing hums, starting to do some light stretches as he gets ready.

“you know i’m on it….hmm, stolen from a collector last month. they’ve got somewhere they’re hiding stolen cars?” oracle replies, tapping coming through the mic as she switches between different monitors.

“….so are we gonna ignore red pouting?” nightwing says playfully, he snickers when red hood elbows him roughly and moves away from him to get into position. “shut your whore mouth, dickhead. i’m taking lead.” red hood rolls his eyes under his helmet when he hears two voices snickering at him.

nightwing holds his hands up when he gets a sharp look, trying to wipe the smirk off his face as he rolls his neck and shoulders. “alright, alright. it’s officially dropped…until this is done. take your spotlight red.”

red hood sighs exasperatedly as he stands, after a moment of silence he kicks through the glass and jumps into the building while multiple people yell in surprise.

🔹🔹🔹

M.list | prev | next

A/n: this is kinda giving filler chapter to me, sorry y'all 😔 the next one is much more interesting tho 👀👀

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#dc x y/n #dc x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batfamily x reader #batman fanfiction #batfam x reader #bruce wayne x gn!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #black widow reader

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ffleurist · 2 days ago

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🕸️ 029 . a delicate balance

synopsis you confront him about his hidden identity as spider-man, leading to a vulnerable moment where he admits his struggle with love. as the emotional connection deepens, a strange unease fills the room when the nurse lingers with an unsettling gaze. wc 1667

the hospital room hums quietly under the dim lights. kaiser leans against the pillows, mask discarded, revealing the exhaustion etched into his face. you should leave, visiting hours ended long ago but you can't. not when his usual cockiness has given way to something softer.

"you should go home," he murmurs, but his hand finds yours. his grip is weak, but the warmth sends a flutter through your chest.

"not a chance," you say softly, brushing a strand of blonde hair from his face. "you'll start climbing walls again the second i’m gone."

he huffs a weak laugh. "tempting."

for once, he doesn't fight your care. when you adjust the bandages, he just watches you, quiet and unguarded. it's that silence that pulls something raw from him.

"you really stayed," he says after a pause, voice softer. "even after everything."

"of course i did," you reply. "what, you thought i'd leave you to flirt with the nurses?"

a ghost of a smirk tugs at his lips. "jealous?"

"don't push your luck, kaiser."

“mihya.” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“what?” you ask, not sure if you heard him right.

“earlier... you called me that. please, say it again.”

you pause, your heart suddenly racing at the vulnerability in his voice. “mihya,” you repeat softly, unsure of what’s happening but feeling an unexpected pull.

his gaze softens, and for a moment, it feels like the world around you fades. he looks at you, eyes wide with something raw and unspoken, as if he’s just let down a wall he’s been holding up for so long. “nobody has given me a nickname before.”

“well then mihya, let me be the first.”

his smile fades, and something more serious lingers in his gaze. "i'm not used to this. someone staying."

your heart aches at his honesty. without thinking, your fingers curl tighter around his. "well, you better get used to it. i'm not going anywhere."

his eyes soften in a way that makes it hard to breathe. "good," he murmurs, head tilting slightly toward you. "because if you left, i'd probably do something reckless."

"like what?"

"like this."

before you can respond, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours. the kiss is light and hesitant, like he's afraid to break whatever fragile thing has settled between you but when you don't pull away, his hand moves to the back of your neck, deepening it just enough to make your heart stutter.

"you're a terrible influence, spider-man." you whisper, your forehead resting against his and just for a moment, the danger outside the hospital walls feels a little farther away.

“but how did you know? what gave it away?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“your tattoos, mostly,” you reply, trying to keep your tone steady. “and your injuries. you weren’t as careful as you thought. i’ve been thinking about it a lot, and everything started to fall into place. it all makes sense now.”

he looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. then, he exhales slowly, the weight of the silence settling between you. “you always were sharper than i gave you credit for,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before meeting your eyes again, the tension in the air thickening.

“i didn’t want you to know,” he admits, his voice quieter now, raw with unspoken fears. “i didn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

you stood away, your voice soft but resolute. “i’m already in it, whether you like it or not.”

he looks back at you, a mix of uncertainty, something softer, yet equally dangerous. "and what if I’m not the person you think i am?” he asks, his words heavy with something deeper.

“not this again, but then we’ll figure it out,” you reply, your gaze unwavering. “but i’m not walking away. not now.”

a flicker of vulnerability passes through his eyes, and he’s silent for a long beat. then, his lips curl into a faint smile, though it’s more weary than anything else. “you’re stubborn, you know that?” he says, almost in awe.

“maybe," you say with a small grin. "but i don’t mind being stubborn about this."

“i was bitten by a radioactive spider, and ever since i saw you at the stadium, i knew i had to get to know you better. when you caught me with the hoodie soaked in blood, and i watched you rush an injured man to the hospital, in that moment, i just… fell for you. i let myself get too close, too attached and i was already in too deep. but knowing the kind of man i am, one without the love of a family, one who finds solace only in soccer, i had to pull away. when i was spider-man, i felt invincible, like i could do anything. i felt reborn. i thought that with spider-man, i could love you and protect you. but instead, i just ended up putting you in danger.”

his words hang in the air, thick with the weight of his confession. you’re speechless for a moment, absorbing everything he’s said. slowly, you step closer, your voice quiet but steady. “you’re not the only one who’s afraid of getting someone hurt,” you reply, your eyes meeting his. “but running away, pushing me away, won’t keep me safe. it’ll just keep me distant.”

he looks at you, his eyes searching, as if trying to gauge whether he can trust what you’re saying. “to be honest with you,” he begins, his voice raw with vulnerability, “i don’t know how to love. i’ve been searching for it my whole life, and when i finally get close, i just push it away, and i—”

“mihya,” you interrupt softly, stepping closer. “stop rambling. i told you, i’m here. i’ll teach you how to love but only if you’ll let me.”

he stares at you for a moment, a mix of disbelief and hope flickering in his eyes. he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but the words seem to get stuck, as if there’s something holding him back.

then, suddenly, a third voice cuts through the silence.

“ahem.” the nurse clears her throat, and you glance up, the sound sharp in the otherwise still room. there’s something unsettling about her tone—too calm and too composed for the situation. “miss, you should really head home.”

you feel an odd chill in the air, a slight shift in the atmosphere, but you push it aside. still, the nurse's eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary, as though she’s studying you, almost calculating.

you glance over at mihya, who seems equally taken aback, his eyes flicking between you and the nurse, a frown forming on his face.

“righttt,” you mutter, trying to shake off the odd feeling, but the weight of the moment hangs in the air. “i’ll let you rest. we’ll finish this conversation later.”

he gives a small nod, his eyes still locked on yours, but there's an unspoken weight between you now. as you turn to leave, you feel his gaze follow you, the tension lingering in the air. “take care on your way home, mein Schatz.”

the nurse watches you leave, her gaze too steady, too sharp.

you pause, turning to face him, the sound of the german term of endearment catching you by surprise. his gaze is gentle, almost tender, as if he’s offering you a piece of himself he’s rarely shown.

"don’t think this is over," he adds, his voice carrying both a promise and a hint of vulnerability. “i’ll be waiting for you once i recover.”

you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest, a promise you want to believe, but the eerie feeling from the nurse’s gaze still lingers. you give mihya a small nod, trying to push past the unease. "i’ll be careful," you reply, though it doesn’t sound convincing, even to you.

even as you stood outside the door, the nurse’s eyes remain fixed on you, too steady, too sharp, like she's watching you leave for a reason. you turn to walk down the hallway, but with every step, that unsettling feeling grows, gnawing at you.

you pause, the weight of the moment pulling you back. something doesn't feel right.

turning back around, you find yourself walking back towards mihya’s room, feeling a strange pull to go back. when you step inside, the room is empty—mihya’s bed is untouched, the nurse gone as well.

but there’s something else.

the window is wide open. the cold night air rushes in, making the room feel even more hollow. you step toward it cautiously, noticing the curtains swaying slightly as if someone just left.

your eyes flick to the window, and that’s when you see it—a faint green flicker from below, glowing just beyond the edge of the building. you freeze. it’s almost imperceptible at first, like the shadow of a lightning strike without the thunder. another flicker—this time brighter, stronger. a green light cutting through the darkness.

your breath catches in your throat. the air around you feels heavier now, the chill from the window mixing with a rising sense of dread. you step closer to the window, peering out carefully, but the light vanishes as quickly as it appeared, leaving only the dim, cold streets below.

was it just a reflection? a trick of the light?

no. there’s no mistaking it. the green flickers came from the direction of the alley behind the building—too controlled to be random, too deliberate to ignore. your mind races, the pieces clicking together. it’s him. the green goblin.

what just happened?

your mind races, but you can't quite piece everything together. and yet, the echo of mihya’s words remains, a quiet promise hanging in the air.

“i’ll be waiting for you once i recover.”

despite everything, you feel like you can’t walk away just yet. not when you just got him back.

series MASTERLIST

notes from lily ❦⋆ : i have no words.. lol

TAGLIST

@mixolya @x3nafix @96jnie @tamashithe2nd @cookielovesbook-akie @yuiearyi @noomimi @stargirljas @jhsluvv @lotusofia @livelaughloveshidou @swagkittybear @axquella @passw-0-rd @hwaassaa @saeglazer @tofumiarchives @justanotherweeb666 @metaphorically-here @ravenbc @levihanmyotp @rybunnie @adrnmyknight @etherealrin @shosuki @90s-belladonna @wwastro @shr00mfairy @pan-kojiwa @pctterheadd @shumeow-h @deadlydollsstuff @renchai @nomyimi @beomn @heartmaddie @orphicarchive @sky-casino @8x9d @hanmastattoos @biscuitsx [tell me if i missed out anyone]

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cryptidvaquero · 2 days ago

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wip wednesday? don't mind if i do

here's an excerpt from a park ranger/bear shifter! john price/waitress! reader fic im writing

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You liked the evening shifts for a few reasons. Usually, the crankier older residents retired at 7 pm when the sun had barely started to set; thank God for that. Things were quieter, more laid back. You didn’t get paid shit, but at least no one would wish death upon you and your lineage for bringing them a plate with eggs over easy instead of garnished with liquid-fucking-gold.

And your final, favorite reason? You hear the jingle of the bell, and here he is.

“Hey John. Rough night?”

Your manager greets the rugged-looking man who walks through the door. Six-foot-something, brown hair and beard, built like a brick shithouse, and dressed like a damned lumberjack. Like clockwork, local park ranger John Price blesses your godforsaken job at 11:00 pm and leaves within the hour.

It’s the best 30-45 minutes of your shift.

John gives a rough grunt, nodding his head in greeting toward your manager before making a beeline to his favorite corner booth. Rough night indeed.

“He’s in your section, hon. Don’t forget he likes his t-”

“-Likes his tea unsweet. Yes, I know.”

He gets the same thing each time. Unsweetened iced tea, two waffles, a batch of scrambled eggs, three pieces of bacon. The guy eats like he’s starving, yet he’s built like he climbs trees and catches fish with his bare hands. Hell, he’s a park ranger, he probably does.

You disappear into the back, pouring an unsweet tea before ushering it out to John’s table.

“Hey! How are you tonight?” Same song and dance, same fake smile. The life of a food service worker. John glances up at you, drowsy blue eyes sitting under thick eyebrows. The corner of his lips tilts up in a similarly forced smile, and he gives you a nod.

“S’Alright,” he grumbles. His voice is deep and growly - it’s like he’s perpetually stuck in a post-cigarette bedroom voice. Which, of course, you don’t mind in the slightest. He could read off a ransom note and you’d probably swoon. You place the unsweet tea in front of him and he eyes it like water in the middle of a scorching desert.

“Same as usual? Two waffles, scrambled eggs, three-”

“Ah- uhm. No, actually. A bit different tonight.”

Your eye twitches, an instinctual response to being interrupted by a customer. John doesn’t notice, he’s too busy looking out the diner windows toward the treeline. You’d think he’d leave work at work, but apparently, old pines are interesting enough to warrant his lack of conversational engagement. He’s a grown man, you tell yourself, it’s kind of how they are.

You tear off the ticket you were already writing down, stuffing the crumpled yellow sheet in an apron pocket before placing the tip of your pen on the new sheet. “Alright,” you huff. “What’s it gonna be tonight?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Jesus fucking Christ, kid.”

The cook in the back looks at the ticket, his eyes growing as wide as saucers. An hour before closing, and he’s practically cooking a Thanksgiving feast.

“This is John’s order? John Price? The same guy we see almost nightly?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation.

“That’s what I was thinking, Phil! I wrote down his usual and everything, and he interrupts me and proceeds to order half the goddamn menu!”

Phil hangs up the ticket in front of him, and you can see the chicken scratch you quickly applied to the paper, almost completely covering it. John had ordered… and kept ordering. It’s not like you’ve never dealt with large orders before, but from park ranger John Price? This was completely out of his norm.

The back door opens and shuts, and a younger line cook walks in smelling like cigarettes.

“Hey, Alex, come look at this!” Alex shuffles in, looking over Phil’s shoulder. You watch as his eyes go from indifferent to indignant. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s an hour till closing and

you’re serving a party? Tell them to go the hell ho-”

“No no no- this is John, man. Mr. Price. Can you even believe it?”

Alex looks from the ticket and to you. You watch as his lips move under his mustache, like he’s trying to get some sort of response out. Phil just pats him roughly on the back before hanging the ticket on the line.

“Let’s get started, bud. Mr. Shepherd’ll have our asses handed to us if we don’t close on time.”

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It’s about 11:45 pm. About 25 minutes ago, you had to pull out the old dolly like some sort of dumbass to push out the huge order to John. He owed you for that. He really fucking did. And now, 25 minutes later, the entire fuckass meal is gone. Nowhere to be found. He ate it all.

Perched behind the counter, you pretend to wipe things down while Alex comes out of the back of the house. He perches next to you, shoulders bumping together. He smells a bit like bacon grease and menthol.

“You think we can add gratuity to his check?” He murmurs.

“Do you wanna be the one asking Herschel ‘we-go-way-back’ Shepherd to upcharge our regular?”

Alex purses his lips, head nodding back and forth. Finally, he settles on a comfortable “no,” before stalking back into the kitchen. With a sigh, you toss the rag you were holding to the side and push yourself from the counter. You walk to the back of house to ring John up, emerging shortly thereafter and slipping it on his table. “You gonna need anything to go?” You’re not really sure why you asked - he ate enough to sustain a damned bear for the winter. If he asked for anything to go, you might punch him.

Lucky for you, he shakes his head.

“No ma’am,” he says, his voice gravelly.

You feel a bit guilty, then. All he was trying to do was order a meal, but you’ve been groveling all evening over walking a couple of plates in his direction. For all you knew, he could’ve missed lunch or something, too busy doing… whatever the hell a park ranger does.

He’s not very chatty tonight, either. Usually, you can fish a bit out of him if you bat your eyelashes and don’t look too busy. He doesn’t mind small talk if he doesn’t feel like he’s getting in your way. But this whole night has felt like pulling teeth.

“Alex made a joke about charging you gratuity for that meal of yours,” You laugh.

The joke quickly slips and falls flat when John looks at the check with a blank expression. Lord almighty.

“Sorry for the trouble,” He replies.

You want to tear your hair out. Does he actually think you were trying to guilt-trip him? Jesus Christ, you want to go hide in a hole and quit forever.

“No no!” You raise your hands to wave off his apology. “It was a joke. He was just being a dick, y’know?”

John reaches for his wallet, tucked away safely in a Carhartt jacket that’s seen better days. He slips his card to you, and you know that it’s time to run off before you say another stupid thing.

Alex and Phil are ragging on each other when you scramble to the back of house, and Phil flashes you a grin. However, your mood is soured. You punch in the numbers and get John’s receipt before they can try and drag you into one of their stupid conversations.

“Here you go,” You mumble, handing John his receipt and card back. Your throat itches with the compulsory ‘thank you for coming, have a good night,’ but you hold it back. Putting on another smile might just make you sick to your stomach tonight.

John rises from his seat, stuffing his card back in his wallet and then his jacket. He nods in acknowledgment, stepping from the booth. He’s taller than you by a long shot as he stands, and he’s even hunched over a bit. If he’d stand up straight, he’d practically cast a shadow over you.

“You have a good night, love. Drive safe.” The most words he’s spoken all night, and they’re telling you to be safe. In that growly accent of his. He’s not even making eye contact, practically bristling at the prospect of socialization, but you feel like your knees are about to give out just from his words.

“Yeah,” You breathe. “You too, okay? Watch out for animals in the road.”

Mentally, you compartmentalize a thought that says buying a book on local wildlife to talk about with him next time is a good idea. It might be a bit weird, but he’s a bit weird. He’d probably dig it.

John nods, finally meeting your eyes as that caterpillar of facial hair quirks up in a small smile.

“Bears right now, mainly. Most know better than to run around the roads, though.”

Why the hell is that little fact enough to make you starstruck? You barely muster a nod before he’s out the diner door, the bell ringing behind him and signaling that the last customer of your shift has left.

#call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #john price #captain price #captain john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #cpt price x reader #call of duty fic

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sometimesanalice · 17 hours ago

Text

I just loved getting to read your thoughts! It’s always so fun to see the things that stand out the most to people!

More for you!

Ok, so I try something new. Kinda like a life comment while reading, let's see how it goes.— thank you for taking the time to write your thoughts out and share with me!!

Sweetie the effort is great, but that's why you google the places you go to. I feel so bad for reader though. A warning would have been nice. Hopefully, at least her date is appreciating the effort...— bless her!! The one time she decided to throw cation into the wind, it boomeranged and hit her right back in her face! I tried to fold in ways that showed how she was usually a planner, but trying something new (like the way she was stressed about not knowing the drinks menu and what to order). And then juxtapose how out of place she felt under the circumstances at the beginning, compared to the end with Bradley and how much more at ease she is because of him making her feel that way.

Bradley the cavalry comes to the rescue. At least the Valentine's day is getting a little better. Ok, I correct myself. It's getting a hell of a lot better. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.” Really Mr. Bradshaw? You wanna make me melt in my seat or what?— that man is all gas no brake!! There’s nothing subtle about him in the least! And it makes for so much fun! 🤭🤭🤭

“Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.” Oh please. You are a 20/10.— cheeky boy!!

Ok. He gets her a ring on date one. If that's not the most romantic thing ever I don't know what is.— I’d be in an absolute FULL SWOON

“I take it you know, Malibu Ken?” The way I burst out into laughter at this perfect description of Hangman... even my dog gave me the side-eye for disturbing her sleep. Also, the annoying younger brother energy I am getting from this is priceless.— Hangman is a MENACE! Like let the man flirt with a pretty girl! 😂 he definitely deserved his new moniker!

I am so proud of reader for grilling Hangman with such grace. You go girl.— she was such a queen! She was like, I’ll just show you how it’s done 💅🏻

Also, that move with the dating app. Good god Rooster is just such a romantic and I'm living for it. I loved every second of their banter and the amount of times I've sat here awwing or kicking my feet while I giggle might be a bit alarming but I loved every second of it. This was such a wonderful read and I sure as hell will come back to this one quite often. Thank you so much for sharing this with us.— ahhh!! Oh that makes me so happy you liked this!! That dating app bit was a last minute burst of inspo and I’m so glad that I decided to include it because I love just the extra mile he went with that! 🤭

GIF by muvana

To you, for writing this masterpiece and to cute paper rings and milkshakes with two straws— 🥂🥂🥂

For the Plot

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

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you wait.

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

And wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a decision to make.

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

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

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

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

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

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

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

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

Unbelievable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

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

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

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

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

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

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

“Am I going to get to see it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradshaw!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then they’re off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

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

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One of them,” you grin.

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

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

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

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

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

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

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

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

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

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

That one makes you laugh.

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

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

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

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

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

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

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

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

#thank you for reading and reblogging!#the babe with the big move

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