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ja3yun · 5 months

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please be real | p.js

ex!jay x fem!reader warnings: angst, heartache, smut (mdni), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, teasing, pet names (princess, baby), crying, mentions of alcohol, drunk jay, pure heartbreak in the beginning, not proofread, anything else lmk synopsis: after a six-year relationship, you and jongseong part ways due to different needs for the future. when jongseong's first birthday post-breakup arrives, his struggle with your absence reaches a breaking point, prompting a late-night call from his friend that consequently reignites emotions and unresolved feelings. wc: 9.4k a/n: hi! it's me and it's jay's birthday so i wrote him a little something something. i didn't initially intend to rip my heart out as i wrote this yet here i am. this was oddly a healing one to write but i must warn you it does mention the reader not wanting to have children so if that doesn't appeal to you then this probs isn't the fic for you! as always, like, comments, feedback, etc. is all appreciated! ilysm and happy bday jay <3

A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.

Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.

Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.

“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.

“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.

You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”

“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really.

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver.

This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern.

Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”

Jay. Park Jongseong.

It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.

Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your 6-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.

It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once in a lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.

But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.

And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.

Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.

Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.

The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.

His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.

“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.

As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.

Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.

Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.

“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle.

You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.

As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart.

He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.

As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.

With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.

An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward, “Jjongie? It’s me, baby, look at me,” you say calmly, trying to reassure him with your soft voice.

As your fingers gently encircle his clenched fist, Jongseong's body tenses at the touch. Slowly, he turns his gaze towards you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.

He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.

Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own anguish, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.

"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.

He leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin as he nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation he's been yearning for.

It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.

Turning your face to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?” Jake asks, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you.

Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves cumbersome as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.

"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.

With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.

"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.

Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.

You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount he consumed.

“Like two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend.

"Oh, baby..." you sigh softly, feeling a wave of empathy wash over you. Returning your attention to Jongseong, you press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. His response is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace.

You need to get him home, he’s a mess and the longer he stays like this, the more his body is going to wear out.

With a gentle hand, you stroke his hair, your touch a soothing caress against his trembling form. Despite the chaos swirling around you, you find a semblance of peace in this intimate moment, anchored by the bond that still lingers between you.

"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, drawing back as he eases up his grip on you. His friends go to help you but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."

Sunghoon shakes his head, concern etched on his face. "He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the flat without us," he protests.

But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up, "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute.

Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.

Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose now that he has relaxed slightly.

You slide into the driver's seat, the engine humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.

_____

Arriving at his house makes you more nervous than before. This wasn’t just his flat, it used to be your shared home, the place you lived for 2 and half years and made countless memories in.

You were the one to move out and find your own place, thinking it was best since your work was further away and you could find an apartment closer to it. But the truth is, you just couldn’t face being reminded of him in each room and in the pieces of furnishings.

It was selfish of you to leave him with the remnants of your relationship surrounding him, all you thought about was you and your needs, neglecting to think about how he might feel being surrounded by nothing but memories.

Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.

As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.

You push your thoughts down and make your way to your once-shared bedroom, walking through the memories and heaving your ex-boyfriend along slowly. His nose nudges into your hair, sweeping in your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you.

As you reach the familiar threshold, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet longing. This room, once a sanctuary where you both shared your laughter and bodies, now serves as a poignant reminder of the love you've lost.

Gently, you ease Jongseong onto the bed, sitting him up, “I’m going to get you some clean boxers okay?” you ask him but he’s not here, not really, so you make your way to the drawers on the other side of the room.

Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.

“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.

Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.

You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hellow Kitty print that you've always teased him about.

Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.

As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.

His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.

“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he mumbles as his lips ghost over yours.

He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.

But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.

“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”

Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave.

"Please, Princess," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own.

His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.

With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.

Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.

You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while.

Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.

You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.

_____

Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.

Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes.

Even if he did want to open them he couldn’t because they are being held together so tight by something. Was he crying last night? Actually, what even happened last night?

He replays the fragments of the evening in his mind, a few scattered images begin to surface - Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the raucous atmosphere of the bar, and the ill-advised decision to ride the mechanical bull. And then nothing.

As he tries to recounter the night, you see him attempt to pry his eyes open and decide to help him out. Swiping your thumb over his eyes, you wipe away the mix of his dried-in tears and sleep. He looks so confused when you touch him and his body tenses.

Either he is having a severe case of hallucinations to the point where he is starting to physically feel you or the girl that he took home last night resembles your touch. God, how he hoped it was the first one.

Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.

“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.

You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong.

All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.

He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.

Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.

As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.

"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."

You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.

The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously.

All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”

“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.

"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."

You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements—this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.

But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.

You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.

“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.

Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”

It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly.

“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”

Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.

“That’s okay.”

“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?

"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"

Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is laying himself bare to you.

But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."

You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.

"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?

Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.

So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.

"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.

In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you.

"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.

Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.

You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.

His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.

You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.

It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.

Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds.

The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself.

You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.

He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.

Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.

"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.

Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.

"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.

With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.

You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.

You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.

As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.

“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.

Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.

But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.

“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.

Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”

“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.

Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.

With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.

"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire.

Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."

Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.

The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need.

Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”

You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.

You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."

With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."

As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.

Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."

In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.

With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.

“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.

After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.

Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.

As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.

In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!”

His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.

After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked.

But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.

He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.

“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.

You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”

“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.

The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you.

Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.

You need one another to extinguish the fire.

“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.

“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.”

Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.

His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t.

He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.

“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”

He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream.

You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.

Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.

“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.

Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.

“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.

So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.

Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”

You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.

“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.

So with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #jay smut #park jongseong smut #aj writes #jay x reader #park jongseong x reader

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healmydesires · 6 days

Text

sweet like sugar ꕤ (l.h)

part one

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Now that Logan was finally able to call you his, he couldn’t get enough of you.

Logan fucks you from behind.

genre: fluff + smut (18+ mdni)

word count: 3,7k

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, thunderstorms, literally the scene right after this fic, porn with NO plot, reader is described as shorter than logan, inexperienced!reader, hint at loss of virginity, unprotected sex, piv sex, doggy style, soft!dom logan, ok… just in overall bye, logan is soft for reader, sub!reader, creampie, overstimulation, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, logan talks you thru it. a lot more daddy kink in this one ngl. HEAVY ON THE BREEDING kink aaaaa sorry. I am still ovulating. they’re both FREAKS. scent kink? reader is also ovulating bye. lots of pet names. logan is worshipping his sweet girl ok! reader is a mutant but it’s not really mentioned in this part tho. reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry!

a/n: GUESS WHAT!!! I finished part two that I wanted to originally post in the main fic but it kinda felt out of place idk either way!! I’m posting it now 🤪 I thought I’ll write what I WANT to read. this is high key self indulgent. english isn’t my first language so pls bear with me <3 this is just smut😭 I literally wrote this while ovulating…

this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

Logan manhandled your body, guiding your body so that you were lying on your stomach. He manoeuvred you in the position he wanted you to be. His hands came to hold your hips, pulling them up, your ass in the air for him.

He kneads the flesh of your cheeks before spreading them apart for him. Your body slumped slightly forward with exhaustion but Logan is quick to grip your hips, holding you in the same position. “Oh kitten, I’m not done with you yet.” He tutted.

You whimpered, feeling his eyes on your wet heat as it clenched repeatedly, aching and begging to be filled all over again and again. Logan growled as he stared at your entrance as your combined cum dripped down your hole, as you continued to clench around nothing. Your body trembled with anticipation.

Logan had made sure you’d cum several times before he took you for the first time. Before tonight, you were so inexperienced, a virgin actually. Now, all you could think about was that you wanted and needed him to continue and fuck you for hours, filling your pussy with his cum over and over again.

He leaned over you, covering your whole body with his own. Logan nuzzled your neck as he littered your skin with his kisses. You writhed against him, wishing he was just pushing his cock in you already and filling you up in the best way.

The air was stuffy all around you, each harsh breath released only thickening it up, leaving your skin hot and your mind fuzzy. Logan groaned into your ear, mouthing kisses along your neck, tongue trailing down the junction between your neck and shoulder before he gently nipped your skin.

Logan reached down to grasp his cock to line up with your tight entrance. He rubbed his tip firmly over your pulsing hole. Your mind was all over the place as his ministrations continued.

“Fuck, can’t wait to fill you up again.”

His breath caught in his throat as his cock smeared his pre cum against your already cum filled hole. The usual restraint between his mind and his words seemed to vanish, as words tumbled from his mouth.

“I wonder if you can handle this position already.” He whispered almost to himself as his hands kneaded your ass cheeks. “Your tiny pussy could barely handle my cock earlier…”

“No, daddy… I can take your big cock.” You whined desperately as you tried to push your hips against his own, hoping he’d enter your pussy again. You were squirming, as you kept trying to push his cock inside you, but Logan had a strong hold on you, which made it hard for you to move around too much. “I’m daddy’s good girl.”

At your words Logan growled, grasping your hips and tilting them more and pushed your trembling legs further apart.

Logan inhaled sharply. “You smell so good, kitten. I can smell your fertility. Your little pussy is practically begging for my cum.” He murmured against your ear. Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words. Logan continued as he pressed tender kisses down your neck, “Can’t wait to breed this pussy again and again with my cock. All night.” Logan moaned and you hissed at the heated sensation of his cock, your eyelids fluttering when you felt it press against your entrance.

A broken gasp left your lips as he finally slid the tip inside you. You felt his body moving behind you, sitting up against you, and you knew his eyes were on your pussy. He watched as your walls spread to try and begin to wrap around him. You whimpered at the new angle as you tried to accommodate his girth. He could barely get more of it in your tight walls at first, eventually using more force to open you up for him. It felt like you were being torn open, split in half.

“D-d-daddy…” you stuttered and mewled.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Logan moaned as he gradually slid more of his thickness inside you and you trembled more underneath him. Your pulsing walls were wrapped tightly around his cock, as your soaked pussy pulled him in more. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelmed you while you clutched the sheets below you in tight fists.

Logan towered over you, as he pushed more of his length inside you, his gaze focused on your clenching hole as his dick slowly disappeared more and more inside you.

You arched your back as you clung onto the bed sheets for dear life, nails digging into the comforters. You couldn’t keep quiet, little mewls and whimpers tumbled past your lips with ease as Logan slid inside.

“Ah, daddy… so big.” You whined.

“You take me so well, pretty girl. Doing so good for daddy.” He moaned as he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, as he kept pushing more of his girth in you slowly. Every time Logan would slide more inside your pussy would squeeze around him. You knew he was barely halfway in, still you felt so full.

“So full…”

“I know my sweet girl, I know. You’re doing so well, soon you’ll be filled with all of daddy’s cock.”

The whines and whimpers and moans kept spilling from your lips as Logan continued to push deeper and deeper. Your hands trembled as they gripped the sheets between your fingers while he penetrated your tight walls.

“P-please, need more. I can handle it daddy…” you whimpered as you tried to push back your trembling body against him, his cock sliding deeper inside you.

He groaned at your desperate whines and as you pushed back against him , losing his composure momentarily as he thrust the rest of his thick cock all the way inside your wetness. The head of his cock touched your cervix once he bottoms out. A scream left your mouth as you trembled underneath him, your pussy trying to adjust to his size as it clenched around his cock. You pushed your head into the pillows as pathetic whimpers kept falling from your lips.

“Christ, you’re so warm—fuck—so tight,” he growled, rambling without a thought, too enveloped in the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him.

You moaned and squeezed around his cock at his words, leaving him panting above you. Both of his hands moved to grab at your ass cheeks, kneading them slowly and gently.

“God, sweetheart, you’re so fucking hot… and wet. How are you this tight?” Logan groaned — the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the air.

There was an intense pressure deep within your stomach — Logan’s thick cock throbbed erratically inside you. The feeling of him nestled so deep within you had you sighing in pleasure. There was still a dull ache — from how wide he stretched you out; your walls pulled apart to their limits — but pleasure soon replaced the stinging ache. Gradually, you adjusted to Logan’s size and with an experimental swivel of your hips, you cried out in pleasure.

Fingers were digging harder into your ass, soft grunts and pants escaped his lips as you moved your hips slowly back against him. “Fuck— that’s it, baby. Grind all over my cock—you feel so good,” Logan growled as his head fell back. The soft murmuring of his voice ripped through the room, the sounds of his own pleasure intermingled with yours.

“Fuck, Logaaaan,” you whined — drawing out the syllables of his name. His hands were still on your ass — holding the plump flesh in his large hands while he squeezed and spread them apart.

Pleasure seeped into your veins, and you began grinding and squeezing more feverishly against him. Short gasps of pleasure slipped from your lips, as you felt his cock pulse inside your tight walls.

“Kitten, fuck, I can’t wait anymore. Need to fuck you.” He slurred and panted above you — euphoric elation dripped from his words. Your stomach twisted — the heat inside caused your stomach to flip and turn with every one of your movements. “Need to breed this pussy.”

“Ah, Lo—”

Both your breaths laboured as you’d feel his hips move, quickly pulling himself almost all the way out of your pussy, as you whined at the empty feeling. “Such a needy pussy.” Logan growled before he thrust himself all the way inside your cunt again.

“Ah ah fuck, daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moved his hips slowly but hard against yours. You cried out as he thrust so deep inside you that it had your body slumping against the bed. Your pussy continued to pulse and squeeze around his thickness, as it tried to adjust to its girth still.

“Pussy needs to be filled all the time ain’t that right?” He groaned as he punctuated every word with a thrust.

You moaned loudly as you arched your back and pressed your ass up against him. He grabbed your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he rolled his hips deeply into yours. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as you tightened around him.

He was so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly which made your eyes roll back in your head.

“F-fuck baby girl, you’re so sexy like this.” Logan slowly picked up his pace at the sight of you throwing your head back. “You’re all mine, isn’t that right kitten?”

With every thrust, you couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure. Not only was Logan’s cock thick, but he was incredibly long too, his length just slightly curved: which allowed his head to drag against that sweet spot inside you.

Large hands moved to your hips, Logan gripped them tightly as he helped you move against him. Every movement had hot spikes of pleasure jolting across your skin, your toes curled in elation while your stomach twisted and knots violently. The ecstatic bliss of your impending orgasm called to you and you began bouncing your ass against him.

“Ah, y-yes yes yes, I’m all yours. P-please please f-fuuuck, I need m-mo—” you begged and you’re unable to finish your sentence as he gave you a particularly hard thrust.

You felt your arms almost giving out on you because of the force of his thrusts. Logan’s hands were clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him, and he leaned down to place kisses on your upper back, his kisses travelled down your spine, until he leaned back up and just watched you as he fucked into you from behind.

Skin melded together, your sweat acting as a glue, you lost yourself into the feel of Logan. Your mind goes blank as all you could do was focus on the feeling of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrust deeper inside you, which earned him whines and moans as you continued to cry out his name. You tried to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he made you feel.

The sound of your pleasure fuelled his desire to fuck you better, urged him to do more.

Logan picked up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that had your body going numb.

From above you, Logan fucked harder — his cock thrusting deeper into you. The additional sensation caused you to whimper, your pussy twitched as sheer, unadulterated bliss began flitting through your bloodstream. You were close — so close you could practically taste your orgasm; even if your mouth was completely dry from gasping his name and calling him daddy over and over again.

You clawed at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air was all stuffy around you as his hips moved faster, you whimpered as you tried to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. Your tiny pussy was so full of him, still trying to accommodate his thick girth as it pulsed and tightened around him. Logan moaned at the sight, kneading your ass as he tried to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes rolled back inside your head once again as you dug your fingers more into the bed, you mewled against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

You whined loudly as he shifted inside you, the new angle made him hit your sensitive spot inside you.

“Fuuuck,” Logan moaned. Your pussy was so wet and warm around him, your walls squeezed his cock with every thrust, “feels so good, kitten. You’re taking daddy’s cock so well.”

Your noises became louder and higher pitched as he continued his assault on your pussy, indicating that you were getting closer as well as the lewd sounds of your pussy that kept meeting his cock over and over again. The sounds mixed so well with your desperate cries.

Logan couldn’t help it, you looked so pretty like this. Fucked out beneath him and so fucking full of his cock, the closer he got to his orgasm the more the images of you filled with his cum consumed his thoughts.

“Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my cum.” He groaned as he thrust harder into your heat. “Begging for me to breed her.”

“God, daddy-daddy please. Fuck I—” You whined as your eyes rolled back inside your head.

“What do you want, kitten?” He groaned while one of his hands reached around you to slip against your clit as you writhed against him as he applied pressure. The pleasure had the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.

Suddenly, everything became too much: the pressure against your clit, his grunts, the sticky, sweaty feeling, his scent, his warmth, the drilling of his cock inside you. Just everything. You tried to catch your breath but from how Logan was thrusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it felt almost impossible to do so.

“F-feels s-soo— F-fuck, I-I, daddyyyy—”

“Look at you,” he chuckled breathlessly, “so cock drunk and so fucked out you can barely talk.” He whispered once he leaned down as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, as he picked up his pace once again. He fucked you so fast and hard that you swore you never moaned so loud in your life. “Don’t worry, I think I know what you need.”

He leaned his body completely against yours as he continued to hit against your cervix repeatedly while one of his hands kept rubbing your little bundle of nerves. “Feels good doesn’t it, sweet girl?” You whimpered and trembled underneath him as you nodded, he moaned against your ear before he whispered close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you wanted it.”

“Y-yes! F-feels sooooo so gooood, Looo—” you whined as he continued to hit your sensitive spots inside you. Logan’s fingers kept pressing down on your little nub making you squirm. The tension continued to build up as the pleasure became too overwhelming.

“That’s right, princess.”

Logan snapped his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. You felt like your head was swimming once again as you whined. “I’m sooo so close, p-please… daddy… I’ve been such a good girl.” you begged desperately. You only needed one more little push, a little bit more attention to finally reach your peak again.

“Yes, you’ve been such a good girl for daddy.” He panted above you.

You cried out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name as he moved his head down again, pressing kisses all over the side of your face down your neck.

“Can’t wait, fuck—“ he breathed, he stopped himself to let out a loud groan, “can’t wait to fill you up. I keep dreaming about filling you up nice and good. ”

The words made you keen and pulse around his cock, as you moaned his name into the warm air of your bedroom. You wanted more, needed to hear more, wanted to know what else he wanted, what else he dreamed of but your voice was strangled, your brain incapable of forming a sentence.

“I keep dreaming about breeding this pussy until you’re fuckin’ pregnant.” He grunted before he whispered in your ear, “be a good girl and cum for daddy.”

“Fuck, oh my god,” you cried, a shrill wail as Logan’s words went straight to your pussy. Your cunt gushed all over Logan’s cock as he never stopped. His thrusts were hard and deep, enough to turn your vision starry.

“That’s it… that’s it, let go pretty girl.” He murmured lowly into your ear.

His hips never slowed down as he massaged your clit. And then the coil in your lower tummy snapped, your eyes rolled back into your head while you arched your back as your world dissolved into pure ecstasy. You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking as he talked you through it. You almost blacked out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You whimpered as the overstimulation got to you.

“Doing so good for me, baby.” He groaned as his pace became more erratic, with less finesse as he charged towards his own finish line. “Daddy wants to fill you up. N-need to fuck my cum into you, kitten. Breed you and get you nice and full…”

Your walls pulsed and tightened around him as he continued to hit your sweet spot inside you. He groaned as his movements became more sloppy. He cried out your name with a gasping breath. Loud mewls left your lips as he finally spilled his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pooled deep inside you. An instant wave of pleasure rolled throughout your body as he filled you up with his hot cum.

“Ah...” you whimpered underneath him as your body continued to shake.

He kept fucking his cock inside of you, fucking his cum deep inside of you until he was satisfied. Logan exhaled deeply as he came down from his high, his body slumping against your own. His cock was still lodged deep inside you, still half hard as he kept the cum inside your pussy. You whimpered as your pussy pulsed around him, as it kept clenching repeatedly around his still hard length.

You tried to catch your breath as Logan groaned while you continued tightening involuntarily around him. “Kitten,” he warned breathlessly, “don’t do that.”

“I can’t really help it.” You said under your breath.

He gently pulled out of your tiny spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and you felt his eyes on you, knowing that he watched his seed drool out of you. Your legs were spread wide, and your pussy slightly gaping from where he’d fucked you open. But he was much more focused on how his cum leaked out of you, his seed dripping down your hole. Chest swelling with pride, he couldn’t help but let out a lazy smile.Your pussy continued to clench repeatedly around nothing and he groaned at the sight. Logan made sure to plunge his pointer finger into your hole as you gasped, stuffing you back up with your shared cum.

You winced at the sensation, a whimper slipped from your lips at the sensitivity. Pressing a kiss to your knee, “We’ll have to clean you up,” Logan mumbled, even as he continued pushing his fingers inside you.

“Not now, I’m tired,” you murmured back whiningly. When the ache of oversensitivity got too much, you bat Logan’s hand away before you closed your legs.

With a low laugh, Logan pressed an apologetic kiss to your knee before picking you up effortlessly, making you yelp in surprise. “Up you go.” You were about to complain that you could walk perfectly to the bathroom on your own, when you felt sore and your legs felt incredibly numb.

Once he reached the bathroom, he sat you down on the edge of the bathtub all while running the water and surprising you with your favourite bath bomb, to create a bubble bath. It brought a smile to your face knowing he knew so much about you.

“Logan… how is it that you always know what I need?” You whispered as you looked at him dreamily.

“Isn’t that what your best friend and new boyfriend should know?” He gave you a teasing smile.

“Either way, thank you.” You whispered before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You leaned into Logan's gentle support as the tub filled. When it was ready, he carefully lifted you and helped you into the warm water. Looking up, you moved towards the centre, silently inviting him to join. Logan eased in behind you, and you shifted forward slightly so he could settle comfortably. The soothing warmth enveloped you both as you relaxed against him, relaxing instantly in the peaceful moment.

His strong arms encircled your waist, drawing you closer until you were nestled securely against him. You let out a contented sigh, feeling the solid warmth of his chest behind you. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing was soothing, and you found yourself relaxing even further.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath soft against your ear. His lips then traced a tender path down your neck, each kiss a gentle affirmation of his words. The sweet gesture sent a pleasant shiver through you.

A smile spread across your face as you settled deeper into his embrace, feeling utterly at peace. The moment felt perfect — safe, warm, and full of affection. You shifted against him, shuffling around as you moved closer into him in the water, you pressed your naked body against his. Face to face once again. Easily, your legs tangled together, and closing your eyes, you let his words and the comfort of his presence wash over you. Your heart swelled with emotion as you replied, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

“I love you too.”

In that quiet moment, surrounded by his warmth and care, you felt truly cherished. The storm outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble of contentment. And that’s how the rest of the night went, tender kisses and soft touches shared between you two as you enjoyed each other's company. Feeling so loved and at home as you melted in his embrace.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfic #deadpool and wolverine #my writing

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arieslost · 6 months

Text

talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo

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leahwllmsn · 1 month

Text

somebody to you

alexia putellas x reader

You’re not a footballer and knowing that your girlfriend is one of the best footballers in the world… you definitely think Alexia deserves better than you. Maybe someone like her ex—World Cup winner, Jenni Hermoso.

; angst, fluff

When you first met your girlfriend, Alexia, you had no idea who she was.

Football was the last thing you could ever be interested in. How were you supposed to know that the blonde in front of you was one of the best footballers in the world?

Whenever you recall back to that moment, you could still remember every single detail—her hair up in a messy ponytail, a pair of sunglasses resting on top of her head, and her faded grey sweatshirt paired with light blue jorts. (Who the hell wore jorts?) Not to mention the permanent scowl etched on her face. She made smiling seem like a chore.

When it was her turn to order and all she did was point to the menu to show you what she wanted, you frowned because, a) that was so rude—how hard was it to say that she wanted a hot chocolate? but b) she looked so damn hot and you were a sucker for pretty, bratty girls.

She was perfect.

When you decided to shoot your shot and wrote your number on her cup (and a note that went: you should smile more often, I haven’t seen it, but I’d bet that it’s the most beautiful smile in the world x), you didn’t think she’d do anything about it.

Imagine your surprise when you received a text from an unknown number later that night.

hola

I just wanted to tell you to do better with your pick-up line

That was a few months ago and now you could confidently say that Alexia’s smile was indeed the most beautiful smile in the world.

It was tough to break down her walls at first, Alexia always exuded a nonchalant vibe, only smiled when she had to, and didn't look like she enjoyed whatever it was you two were doing.

You were never a quitter though. So you kept on texting her, asking if she wanted to go for another date.

She kept on saying yes and that was when you knew that underneath her indifferent mood, she enjoyed your little dates.

Her tough exterior was merely a front and your suspicions were confirmed when one night, she started laughing so hard mid-sentence, causing you to stop whatever it was you were doing because wow, you could listen to her laughter on repeat for the rest of your life.

“Y/N,” she grabbed your face in her hands, gently rubbing your cheeks, her laughter fading into a gentle, warm smile on her face. “You’ve been so patient with my grumpiness. That is a talent.”

“Ale, I really like you,” you chuckled. “That includes your grumpiness.”

“I’m not always like this,” she confessed. You only looked at her in confusion before she told you everything. Who she was, what Alexia Putellas meant to the world, and most importantly, her ACL—the injury that caused her to lose sight of the world for a bit.

“I was just so angry with the world, even now that I’ve healed, I still hated that it happened to me because I missed out for months, I missed out on so many moments. So the bitterness likes to reappear every now and then… That, and I don’t really trust people so easily; people usually want something from me. I didn’t know what you wanted from me.”

“Ale… I had no idea who you were,” you gave her a sheepish smile. “Which might be stupid of me, now that I think about it. I mean, I should know you, shouldn’t I? You’ve won that balloon football award or whatever and it’s ridiculous that I have no idea who—”

You were cut off by a pair of lips crashing into your own. Alexia silencing all your worries with the softest kiss, her strawberry chapstick was all you could taste. She pulled away to rest her forehead against yours, eyes staring at you intently, your favourite smile on display. “I don’t care that you don’t know who I am, Y/N. In fact, I love it. You treat me so normally. Eres mi favorita.”

You couldn’t help the grin on your face. “Am I? You wanna be my girlfriend then, Putellas?”

When all she did was flash you her signature smirk, her eyebrows raised, and an “ask me in a more romantic way, por favor” thrown your way—that was when you realized that you’d broken down her walls completely, and oh you were insufferable. Because the way she looked at you? The way her eyes lit up, her lips slowly curling into a stupidly perfect grin? People would go to war to have someone look at them like that.

You were so head over heels in love with Alexia.

—

Being Alexia’s girlfriend—or wag, as you learned of the term on the internet—was more than you could ever dream of.

You still worked part time at the café where you two met while juggling your studies to finish your master degree. On weekends, you would support Alexia on her games. Cheering her on, not caring about anything else except when Alexia had the ball on her feet.

You were happy in the bubble you and Alexia created.

That was until one Saturday night, you were seated at your usual seat at the stadium among friends and families of the players, when someone plopped down on the seat next to you.

You still weren’t that familiar with football, having only been to ten games in total. You knew the rules, you knew a couple of Alexia’s teammates after stalking them online (you two were still keeping your relationship a secret from everyone else), but that was mostly it.

So you didn’t know who the person next to you was until she offered a small smile, outstretching her hand for you to shake.

Jenni.

The name was a bit familiar, so was her face. You couldn’t quite place where you’ve seen her before though.

“Who do you know on the team?” her voice brought you out of your daydream, wracking your brain on why she looked familiar.

“Uhm,” you stuttered. Right. This was the friends and family section, you couldn’t sit here if you didn’t know anyone. “Alexia.”

Jenni was surprised, you could tell with the way her eyes widened for a split second, not expecting your answer. “Friend of Ale’s, huh?”

You didn’t like how she said your girlfriend’s name. With that hint of… fondness. You suddenly felt a possessive feeling growing in your chest and you just wanted to tell everyone that Alexia is yours.

Jenni stared at the field, her eyes fixating on Alexia. You could see an affectionate smile on her face and that was when it clicked. You’ve seen her on Alexia's Instagram before. Jenni used to be her teammate at Barcelona before she moved to Mexico.

You knew this because in the picture, Jenni was smiling at Alexia the same way. And even though your Spanish wasn’t spectacular, you remembered reading the paragraph Alexia wrote for Jenni and getting the hint at how close they were with how Alexia seemed to think so highly of Jenni.

“You’re her teammate, yeah?”

Jenni turned back to look at you, nodding. “I don’t play for Barça anymore, but we still play on the national team together.”

“Cool.”

Jenni gave a small laugh. “You don’t know much about football, do you?”

You grimaced, “Is it that obvious?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she patted your arm in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but it made you feel even more stupid and out of place in this whole stadium, where everyone knew what they were getting into when they bought tickets to the game. “It’s just that—not trying to sound arrogant or anything—but usually people know who I am because I used to play for this team. So you not recognizing me straight away gave me the clue that you’re probably not a Culer.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Culer?”

“Fans of the club.”

“Ah.” You were definitely not a Barcelona fan. You were a fan of your girlfriend though, and if that meant you had to be a Culer or whatever it was, then you would be.

So when you laid down in Alexia’s bed that night, you mentioned to her that starting from today, you were a Culer. She burst out laughing and you can feel her grip you tighter, having your face completely smashed against her neck—not that you minded, you had always felt so content being pressed up against Alexia.

“Mi amor,” she cooed, looking down to face you, her hand finding its way to its favourite resting place on your cheek. “When did you learn that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, starting to feel a bit insecure at this whole thing. “Well, we’ve been dating for three months now—next week it would be four—and I still don’t know shit about football, but, Ale… I’d be a Culer for you.”

Alexia giggled and pecked your lips, smiling your favourite smile of hers (the one that made her eyes sparkle and the small dimples on her cheek to come out).

“You’re perfect, did you know? I love you whether you’re a Culer or not.”

“Hm,” you pretended to be deep in thought. “Then what if I become a Real Madrid fan?”

Alexia gave you an unimpressed look. “Don’t push it.”

“I’m going to Madrid next week with a couple of my friends and maybe I could catch a game—”

And Alexia did what had become her favourite thing to do: interrupting your ramble with a kiss. You had a love-hate relationship with the gesture, because while you do love having her soft lips on yours, it was so annoying to be cut off mid-sentence.

You never complained though. You’d happily get interrupted if it meant having Alexia kiss you like you were the last person on earth.

That night, you buried your uneasiness as a result of your encounter with Jenni deep, deep inside.

(You didn’t know just how important Jenni was to Alexia.)

—

Jenni was in town for a couple of days, you’d later learn.

You would usually go to Alexia’s after you were done for the day, mostly spending the night at hers. That was why Alexia ended up giving you a spare key—so you would be able to come as you please.

It wasn’t unusual for you to have to use your spare key. What was unusual was the sight of Jenni sitting on your girlfriend’s couch, looking surprised at you barging into your girlfriend’s home.

“Hi…” you gave an awkward small wave at her, closing the door behind you as you slowly stepped inside the apartment.

“Oh! Y/N, right?” Jenni stood up to face you and you could tell that this was very much awkward for her as it was for you. “Nice to meet you again.”

You gave her your best smile, trying your hardest not to be rude as you scan the place for any sight of your favourite blonde. “Is… Alexia here?”

“I have no idea where she is honestly,” at that you couldn’t help the way your eyebrows rose to the top of your head. “I’m in Barcelona for a couple of days. I was supposed to meet her tomorrow morning for breakfast but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. So I figured I’d meet her tonight instead. I have an extra key so…”

You didn’t like what you were hearing at all, but you kept your cool. That was the jealousy inside of you, you knew this. Jenni’s a friend. You really should tone down your green-eyed monster.

“What are you doing here?” It was Jenni’s turn to ask you.

“I, too, have a spare key,” you intended to joke about the situation, but your tone felt off and Jenni can sense it too.

Jenni had a lot of questions, you could tell. It was easy to read the emotions on her face.

You had to remind yourself that she didn’t know you were dating Alexia. She didn’t know that you basically spent more nights here than at your own place. It was natural to be curious as to why there was a random girl showing up at your best friend’s house at 10 pm, with her own sets of keys nonetheless.

Wanting to get out of the awkward situation, you excused yourself, saying you’d meet Alexia some other time, bidding Jenni goodbye.

You texted Alexia a simple good night once you settled in your bed.

When Alexia responded back with a short text back, sweet dreams, mi amor, and not a phone call asking why you weren’t in her bed, you let that feeling of uneasiness return to the surface.

—

You didn’t get to overthink for too long because when you wake up, it was because you felt your bed dip and the familiar scent of your girlfriend engulfing you as she settled behind you.

“Bon dia,” Alexia whispered, wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you to her. “I missed you last night.”

You turned around to burrow your face into her collarbones, letting out a content sigh. “Missed you too.”

“Jenni told me you visited my place but left immediately.”

At the mention of her name, you froze. What a way to ruin the moment. “Yeah,” was all you replied, which was weird to Alexia considering how talkative you were in the mornings.

“Why didn’t you wait for me, bebita? You always wait for me even when I’m not home.”

You shrugged, “Jenni was there already.”

Alexia went still for a moment, which you thought was odd.

You wanted so badly to keep quiet, but the

nagging feelings that you couldn’t shake grew stronger. “She has a spare key too. Do you just go around giving keys to your apartment to everyone? I thought I was special,” you chuckled, meaning it to be a joke, waiting for Alexia to respond with her usual snarky retort.

When Alexia didn’t say anything, you pulled back from her, looking up to stare at her face. She was looking anywhere but you.

“Ale? I’m only kidding. I know she’s your friend.”

Alexia cleared her throat, “You see…”

You sat up, something about her tone brought up that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Jenni’s my ex.”

Ah. That definitely burst the bubble you’d carefully created.

You gave a bitter laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “So your ex still has a key to your place,” you stated. You were about to swallow your sentence when you suddenly felt anger rising in your chest with how blindsided you were. “Did she spend the night?”

Alexia looked like a deer caught in the headlights. You felt sick.

“That’s a yes.”

“Amor…”

You shook of her touch and went to stand up. You looked at the blonde in your bed and you felt your heart crushed. You hated how Alexia looked like a kicked puppy, immediately scrambling to chase after you once she realized you were leaving the room.

“Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Your ex still has a key to your place and she stayed the night,” you were mostly repeating it to yourself, trying to wrap your head around the fact somehow.

“She slept on the couch!” Alexia interjected. “Nothing happened, amor, I swear.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. You didn’t want to fight with Alexia. Besides, deep down you knew that Alexia wasn’t the type of person to be unfaithful.

“Okay,” you relented, opening your fridge with the aim of making breakfast, trying to busy yourself with something that wasn’t looking at your girlfriend.

Alexia didn’t seem convinced that you’d drop the subject just like that. “There's nothing going on between Jenni and I. She's a good friend.”

You grabbed an empty bowl. “Okay.” You scooped some yogurt out of its jar and placed a spoonful in your bowl. Jenni’s a good friend. Just a friend.

“Mi vida… I know it’s… weird? To still be friends with an ex, but…”

You poured some granola on top of your yogurt. Who the hell stayed friends with their ex? Alexia. Sweet, lovely Alexia.

Looking down at your bowl and seeing a sad, miserable breakfast (just like how you were feeling), you pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a small headache coming through. You felt like crying but that seemed pathetic so you shoved the feeling away. Jenni was an ex, but she was a good friend. You had to live with that.

“I trust you, Ale,” you sighed. “If you say she’s a good friend, then I trust you.”

She went up behind you and rested her chin on your shoulder, her arms encircling your waist. “I love you,” she whispered into your shoulder, placing a kiss on the exposed skin. “I really do. Jenni and I broke up ages ago.”

They broke up ages ago. That was grand. You were fine. People stayed friends with their ex and nothing happened. Right?

When you didn’t say anything else, just continuing to stare at your breakfast, Alexia poked your side. “Hey,” she placed a peck on your back. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, love.” More like jealous. Or fucking devastated that your girlfriend’s ex was a sexy footballer just like herself. How could you ever compete with that?

“Y/N,” Alexia’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Babygirl.”

At that you couldn’t help the laughter that escaped your lips. You turned around to face her, her arms stayed trapping you against the counter. “Please don't call me that ever again.”

“Why?” Alexia smirked, her face inching closer to yours.

“I hate it, Ale, por favor,” you groaned.

Alexia grinned at you, pecking your lips “Hm. I love when you speak Spanish.”

And when Alexia kissed you, any thoughts of your girlfriend’s ex escaped your brain completely.

Alexia chose you. So what if she still hung out with her ex? Plenty of people do. Plus, you trust Alexia. You had nothing to worry about.

—

Apparently it wasn’t Alexia you had to worry about. It was yourself. You were your own worst enemy and all that.

You didn’t mean to let the thoughts run loose.

When Jenni left for Mexico, you were elated. No more running into your girlfriend’s ex and no more ex-girlfriend trying to steal your girlfriend’s time away from you.

You didn’t factor in the fact that Alexia and Jenni were national teammates. So when international break came and both Alexia and Jenni were called up to camp in Portugal…

You felt like you were going crazy.

You knew you were being dumb, but you couldn’t help it. You didn't think that Alexia would cheat on you—that possibility never crossed your mind.

You just couldn’t help but feel incomparible to Jenni.

That was how you went into a rabbit hole of watching every Alexia and Jenni videos on the internet.

It was a mistake, really. A stupid, terrible mistake, because you could see how well they fit together.

Their chemistry on and off the field were something else, you kinda felt stupid to think that Jenni was the one ruining your relationship when it could very well be that you were the one preventing Alexia from being with someone who truly gets her.

Because you were sure that Jenni understood Alexia in ways that you may never do. They had been through thick and thin together—Alexia’s injury, the issue with the Spanish Federation—they won countless of football championships together, for god's sake.

And how exactly were you supposed to compete with that? Alexia lived and breathed football, you wouldn’t step foot inside a football match if your girlfriend wasn't on the team.

You didn’t get this world of hers and you knew that you never would.

Unlike Jenni. This was her world already.

They'd be perfect together—they were perfect together.

You hated how you were able to let your thoughts spiral as you stared at another video of Jenni looking at Alexia like she was the only person in the room.

You knew Alexia loved you, you had no doubt about that, and you loved her too. But maybe Jenni could love her better.

Jenni was perfect for Alexia in ways that you weren’t. With that thought replaying in your head, you turned off your phone and kept it locked inside your drawer.

You were never one to be obsessed with your phone, having gone days without it and being absolutely fine. So that was what you did. Mostly because you didn't want to talk to Alexia.

You couldn’t handle it if Alexia came to the same realization as you—that you were nothing compared to Jenni and she could very much just get back together with her ex.

Just imagining it crushed your heart into bits so you tried your best to push it away as you went through your day.

—

Alexia decided to leave camp a day earlier than she was supposed to. She said she had a family emergency to attend to, which was true, considering you had yet to respond to any of her calls or texts. She must’ve sounded so desperate to return back to Barcelona, causing them to reluctantly let her go.

She got on the first plane available and went straight home. Usually you would stay over at hers when she was out of town, claiming that you always missed her when she wasn’t around and having her scent engulf you was the next best thing.

However, when Alexia entered her apartment and there were no signs of you, she dropped her bag and hurriedly got into her car to drive to yours. She thanked god that your place was only five minutes away.

Quickly putting her car into park, she tried to regulate her breathing and convinced herself that you were fine.

You were fine. You had to be. You were fine when Alexia left for the airport just a week ago.

With the thought that you maybe broke your phone or lost it, Alexia inserted the spare key you gave her and unlocked the door.

You weren’t in the living room. Or the kitchen. So that left one more place. Knocking softly on your bedroom door, she called out your name. When she didn’t get a reply, she let herself in.

No one was there, or in the bathroom. Sighing to herself, she made her way back to the living room and laid down on the couch.

Alexia was never the one to cry easily but she really wanted to. She had no idea where you were, or if you were safe. Never had she felt so helpless before.

This was maybe her fault for wanting to keep you two a secret.

Now she couldn’t contact any of your friends because she didn’t know them.

She took a deep breath and willed herself to focus on where you could be. The café you work at, perhaps? But it was a Sunday and you didn’t work on Sundays because Alexia didn’t have anything to do either and Sundays were your lounging-around-in-bed-until-lunch-time type of days.

Maybe you were at the library. You were going to have your exams next week. Alexia already had your schedule memorized. But it was nearing midnight and you never—

“Ale?” you couldn’t help the surprise in your tone. “Aren’t you supposed to still be at camp?”

Alexia jumped a foot in the air, mostly because she didn’t hear you come in and was scared shitless but also because oh my god, she could finally breathe now that you were okay.

Alexia immediately wrapped her arms around you, she felt like she never wanted to let you go. Ever. “And you’re supposed to reply to my calls, amor.”

Well.

“My phone’s broken.”

Alexia pulled back and looked at you, her face telling you that she didn’t quite believe you.

“My phone’s lost…?” you tried again, giving her a sheepish smile. You were starting to feel bad for ignoring her.

Alexia only sighed in response, dropping on the couch and pulling you to sit on her lap. “I’m just glad you’re okay, mi vida. I was really worried.”

You felt even guiltier now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be.”

You were taken aback at the look of pure disbelief on Alexia’s face at your words. You really didn’t think she’d worry about you—with having to go to training everyday, hanging out with her national teammates, having Jenni around.

“That’s…” Alexia shook her head, trying to get her words out. “That’s ridiculous, amor. Why would I not be worried about you?”

You shrugged. “You’re busy, love. I’d understand.”

Alexia quickly shook her head, you were afraid she'd get whiplash with how frantic her movements were. “I am always busy during camp, sí, but never too busy enough for you? Did I do something to make you feel like I would not have time for you? I didn’t realize—”

Now it was your turn to silence her with a kiss, which was a rare occurrence—cool, calm Alexia never rambled.

You felt her sigh against your mouth, her whispers of a soft “te amo mucho” made you go completely limp in her arms.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassured her. “It’s just me, don’t worry about it.”

“I will always have time for you and I will always worry about you. Because I love you.”

You smiled at her, despite having the worst feeling in the pit of your stomach you still believe her whenever she said it to you. “I love you too, Ale. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

She was still looking at you with worry etched on her face. “Anything else on your pretty mind?”

You felt that if you voiced your thoughts out loud, you’d sound like a crazy, jealous girlfriend and you didn’t want that. So you simply said nothing and laid your head on her chest.

This was fine. You were in Alexia’s arms. Jenni was far away in Mexico. (Well, Portugal right now, but she’d eventually return to Mexico).

You promised yourself you wouldn't let your insane, full of jealousy thoughts ruin what you had with Alexia.

—

People found out about you and Alexia a month later. And by people, that meant the whole damn earth.

Since you never mentioned Alexia to your friends—just casually mentioning that you were seeing someone, but not necessarily specifying who exactly you were dating—the moment your pictures with alexia blew up on the internet, so did your phone.

They were candid pictures of you and Alexia at the beach. Private candid pictures.

You unlocked your phone and scrolled through the countless texts from your friends.

how did you manage to bag THE alexia putellas???

idiota text me back wtf!!!

did you blackmail her oh my god you genius

Which were definitely rude. And didn’t help at all the voices at the back of your head screaming that you weren't good enough for Alexia.

It was a hellish morning.

The only thing saving it was the sound of keys at the front door, and a moment later your girlfriend was stepping inside your apartment, humming happily as she placed a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. She most likely hadn’t seen the pictures yet.

“Ale,” you called out, giving her a weak smile as she turned her head towards you.

“Hola, mi amor,” Alexia instantly furrowing her brows at the sight of you sitting on the couch. “Whats wrong?”

You hated how she could read you so well. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

She flopped down on the couch next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and bringing you into her side. You left out the biggest sigh and just handed her your phone, where the pictures of the two of you were still open.

You felt Alexia stiffen up and you closed your eyes, willing that this wasn't the end for you two. You knew just how much Alexia valued her privacy.

It was silent for a minute or so, alexia tapping away on your phone.

“Lo siento,” Alexia pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I already restricted the comments on your Instagram, you shouldn’t be dealing with all that. People can be a bit… much sometimes.”

Oh. You hadn't even thought to check your Instagram page. You were glad though, you couldn't imagine what vile things people were saying about you. It must be bad enough that that was where Alexia immediately thought to go.

“Is it that bad?” you voiced out, pulling back so you could see Alexia’s face. She looked surprisingly calm. “Babe, how are you so calm about this?”

“The comments on your posts are a lot, but I didn’t read them,” Alexia said simply. “It can be overwhelming, that's why I wanted to shield you from all of that. When you're ready you can just turn it back on.”

You smiled at how thoughtful she was. You really loved her. “You don't have to shield me from anything, Ale. I can handle a few nasty comments. You also haven’t answered my question.”

Alexia looked questioningly at you, grabbing at your arms to pull you closer again.

You settled nicely in her arms, your back pressing against her front as she laid down on the couch. “What question?”

“How you’re so calm about all of this.”

“Ah,” you can feel Alexia's chuckle and you turn around. You were now facing her again (your favorite thing to do—who would ever be tired of staring at Alexia’s face). You placed both of your hands on her face and ran your fingers through her jaw. “I’m anything but calm, bebita. You should feel my heart.”

“I can feel it.”

“Then you know I’m not calm.”

“You are the epitome of calm right now, baby,” you laughed, the nerves still shimmering across your entire body, whereas Alexia looked like it was just a regular Saturday for her.

Alexia took a deep breath and placed her hand on top of yours. “I’m scared. That is the truth. I’m really, really scared. But I know we will get through this. Together. As long as I have you and you have me, I think everything will be alright.”

You smiled at her, truly feeling how she meant her words. You pecked her lips and went back to snuggle into her, your head resting perfectly in the crook of her neck.

“I love you, Ale. You have me. Always.”

—

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. You finally got introduced to Alexia’s friends—Alexia brought you to Lucy and Ona’s housewarming party for their new place. Everyone loved you and you felt like you fit right in. It was great. You felt happy.

(You didn't let the thoughts of why it took a media outlet leaking your pictures for Alexia to bring you around to meet the people in her life, but you cast it aside.)

You met up with your friends and finally told them about Alexia. They were all wary, thinking it was too good to be true. A couple of snide remarks were thrown around about how Alexia could do better, even though your friends said it in a joking way, it still hurt.

But you managed by.

The next thing you knew you were being introduced to Eli and Alba.

It went fine, the most important people in your girlfriend's life seemed to like you, asking you questions about all sorts of things.

It wasn't until Alba casually mentioned how she was going to Mexico with some of her friends and how she would be staying with Jenni the whole week that you realized how closely intertwined Jenni was with Alexia’s life.

Your girlfriend's little sister lighting up as she mentioned all the places Jenni was planning on taking her to. You realized that Alba grew up with Jenni and she most likely saw Jenni as her big sister too; how devastated was she when Alexia and Jenni broke up and Jenni would never officially be a part of their family?

Going home that night, your mind was filled with how Alba and Eli were most likely comparing you to Jenni. Once again you were met with the question that seemed to always bother you: how were you supposed to compete with Jenni Hermoso?

—

The next thing you knew it was time for the World Cup. A very big deal for your girlfriend.

Especially since this was her first big tournament after suffering her injury.

You flew to support her, occasionally meeting with Alba and Eli for lunch (you knew you wouldn’t live up to Jenni, but you could try to make them like you better).

They hadn't given an indication that they disliked you, but just to be safe, you were willing to go the extra mile to make your girlfriend's family like you. You didn't have a decade-long history with them, but you could meet up with them to eat sushi even though you hated eating raw fish.

A small price to pay. Alba was really craving salmon sashimi.

At night, Alexia called you, telling you about her day. Mostly, you let her stay in the zone, you knew how important this was for her; you never called her first, letting her take the lead. You didn't want to be a distraction.

You two have talked about this before. You, scared that you'd be a distraction and Alexia looking at you as if that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Alexia reassured you that you'd never be a distraction and nothing had to change.

You were nervous. You didn't know what being a wag entailed during a big tournament.

It went fine though and your best friends did told you that you were worrying for nothing.

(You still couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that Alexia was spending basically every waking moment with Jenni. But it was fine. Jenni was her teammate. They support each other in different ways.)

Alexia called you every night, some nights Alexia fell asleep with the call still connected and you were left to longingly stare at her, longing to be there next to your girlfriend.

Despite her reassurance that she wanted you to bother her, you didn’t want to seem like a needy girlfriend.

So you toned down your texts, looking at updates of your girlfriend through Instagram (it was a bit pathetic). When you tapped on the next Instagram story and it was a video of Alexia giggling with Jenni, you almost lost it. Almost.

They were friends. Best friends. Exes, yes, but their relationship went beyond that. You knew this. You’ve spent hours down the rabbit hole of reading their history on some blog.

And once again you were left to wonder why Alexia chose you when she can be with her soulmate.

It was an endless cycle and you knew you couldn't go on like this. You had to talk to your girlfriend about your insecurities and just hope that she wasn’t going to think you were silly.

For now though, you were ready to cheer her on as she took the biggest stage in her career.

All the best teams in the world were great, but Spain was better. Alexia was a superstar, like always.

So of course Spain won the World Cup, you had no doubt about it.

What you didn't expect was Alexia exchanging jerseys with Jenni out of all people. You bit your tongue, the cheers all around you didn't do much to drown the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears.

You loved your girlfriend, you were so proud of her.

But as your sweet girlfriend celebrated on the pitch with her ex’s name on her chest, you never knew pain like this.

They were World Champions together. How could you even compete with that? It wasn't your name that Alexia was proudly showing off to the world.

You and Alexia’s family were then escorted backstage. You waited, and waited, swallowing the bitter feeling in your chest. You were happy for Alexia, you really were. But was it necessary to trade jerseys with Jenni?

Before you knew it, Alexia came barrelling towards you. J. HERMOSO visible across her chest.

You hugged her, whispered how proud of her you were, and when Alexia was whisked off for media duties, you prayed that she wouldn’t come to the same conclusion as you.

Alexia and Jenni had years of memories, years of going through the ups and downs of football together. Them winning the World Cup together just added another notable piece to their already intricate history.

Jenni Hermoso was a million times better than you, her winning the World Cup just sealed it even more.

—

You let Alexia celebrate with her teammates, desperately trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as you waited for her in your hotel room.

She insisted you come along, but you declined, not wanting to rain on her parade.

When Alexia stumbled into your hotel room later into the night, you traded sweet nothings into each other’s ears as you let Alexia do whatever she wanted to you.

You felt loved, but you still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in your chest that Alexia could love Jenni better.

—

Being back in Barcelona felt nice.

You were a million miles away from Jenni but still the feeling of insecurity lingered. You knew you had to talk to Alexia soon before it ate you alive.

You just didn't think that it’d blow up to an argument.

You went out with your friends for lunch, promising Alexia that you’d be back in time for your weekly movie nights.

When you entered your shared home you were met with Alexia lying horizontally on your couch.

She was laughing at the TV, too engrossed in whatever she was watching that she hadn’t noticed you coming in.

You went straight to the kitchen, rummaging around your fridge to look for something to do. You weren’t hungry after the lunch you had, but you just wanted to do something. Your hands were full of nerves, mostly due to the annoyance radiating off you.

You were annoyed at your friends and how they kept on making comments about you and Alexia. They didn’t mean any harm, but it got too much.

Before your thoughts wandered further, you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist.

“I didn’t hear you get in.”

You hummed, looking at the ingredients in front of you. Guess you were making some banana bread.

You could feel Alexia’s gaze on you as you basically ignored her. Alexia always knew when something was up with you.

“Is everything okay? Why are you baking?”

You shrugged, getting the necessary equipment from the cupboard.

“Y/N?”

“I just feel like baking,” you didn’t mean to sound curt. Alexia immediately loosened her grip on you, leaning against the counter as she searched for your eyes.

“Okay… Well, do you want me to help?”

“Not really.” You knew you weren’t being fair—Alexia didn’t do anything wrong—but you had your reasons.

Your reasons were the comments your friends made that reinforced the thoughts you had been carrying around for months. You were insecure, disgruntled, and dejected all at once.

You paused for a second before blurting out, “Why didn't you want anyone to know about us?”

Alexia froze. The conversation thrown around during lunch earlier kept echoing in your head.

“Was keeping it a secret Alexia’s idea?”

“Why though? Is she ashamed of you or something?”

“Is it true that she used to date Jenni Hermoso?”

“If I used to date Jenni Hermoso then I would never—well, I wouldn’t say downgrade, but…”

“Hey, that’s just mean! Alexia didn’t downgrade with Y/N!”

“You’re seriously picking Y/N over Jenni Hermoso? Y/N, you know I love you, but let’s be serious for a second.”

“Ale, are you embarrassed of me?”

“What?” Alexia was taken aback at your question, a bewildered look settling on her face. “I am not embarrassed of you. Where is this coming from?”

You scoffed. “Then why didn’t you want people to know about us? About me?”

Alexia was speechless for a second, not expecting that this was where the conversation was going. “Because my world can be harsh and I just want to protect you from it. I told you this, amor. We’ve had this conversation before.”

While that used to sound sweet, now it just irritated you.

“Yeah, but I can handle it.”

Alexia gave you a look that said she didn't believe you. You felt offended. Sure, you were an overly emotional person, but you were sure you could handle it. You were handling it. There were people who spewed out nasty comments about you on the internet everyday but you brushed them off—none of their opinions matter to you.

Your girlfriend’s opinions matter to you.

“Glad to know you think so highly of me,” you sarcastically said, angrily slamming the bananas on the counter. This conversation was really getting on your nerves. You almost wished you didn't bring it up in the first place.

Alexia let out a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t have any faith in you. I just want to protect you. The last time I was in a relationship, it was with someone in the football field,” you hoped she didn’t notice how you immediately stiffen. “I didn’t have to worry so much because she knew how it was—”

You suddenly were so irritated at the reminder of Jenni that you snapped. “I know I’m not Jenni!”

Alexia was surprised at your sudden outburst.

“Qué? I know you are not her—”

“But you wish I was.”

Alexia looked so taken aback at your accusation that you immediately felt guilty for ever saying it.

“…What?”

But it seems that despite the guilt you felt, the pent up anger inside you was overflowing, desperate to let itself out.

“Jenni is perfect, Jenni plays football, Jenni can handle the media, Jenni knows all your friends and family. Everyone likes Jenni better than me!”

“Amor, no! That’s— Where is this coming from?”

You almost wished you didn’t mention any of this in the first place with the way Alexia was looking at you like a blindsided, kicked puppy.

You wanted to try to explain your side of things to her. You felt like your feelings about this whole thing were valid, albeit you could definitely handle it differently. Like, not bottling things up until they eventually blew up.

“You’re still good friends with your ex, Ale,” was all you could come up with.

“…Yes? We went through a lot together; she was a big part of my life.” At that you rolled your eyes. Obviously she was a big part of Alexia’s life. Weren’t all exes a big part of our lives at some point?

When you didn't say anything else and continued to prepare for your banana bread, Alexia continued, “It wasn't a bad breakup... We just decided that we were better off as friends.”

Honestly, you’ve had enough of hearing about Jenni.

“That’s exactly it, isn't it? You two went through a lot together, Ale. You won the freaking World Cup together and you went around parading her name on your chest while I was at the stands cheering you on despite having to see you with your ex’s name on all the fucking pictures of you and the trophy. And yeah she lives all the way in Mexico but you have international camps together while I'm at home, watching Instagram stories of you two, wondering why you're still giving me the time of the day when you could be with someone like her? For god’s sake Ale, she's hot! I get it! I do! And she’s 5’9 and I’m not—”

“Amor, stop,” Alexia interrupted your rambling, stepping closer to you but you didn't let her, shaking your head and taking a step away. “Y/N, I had no idea you felt that way—”

“It’s stupid. Forget it.” Embarrassment filled your cheeks.

“No, no, it’s not. It’s not stupid if you feel that way, my love. I’m so, so sorry that I didn't realize how this was making you feel.”

You sighed. It wasn’t Alexia’s fault, you knew that. You should've told her. It wasn't her fault because she didn't know.

You were now even more embarrassed that you let it turn into such a big deal.

So you took one last look at your girlfriend and ran out the door.

—

An hour into your aimless walk, you realized that you didn’t bring your phone with you, which meant you couldn’t Uber your way back home.

You realized that this meant you couldn’t call anyone to pick you up.

To make it worse, the sky started to rumble, signaling that the possibility of a heavy rain was coming sooner than you think.

Everything felt like a disaster.

You slumped down on a nearby bench. You knew where you were, you had no trouble getting home without Google maps. But it was an hour walk here, which meant it would be another hour walk home.

You groaned, thinking of the best way out of this predicament you put yourself in.

It was nearing midnight, but Barcelona had always been a lively place, so there were still plenty of passersby. You could ask to borrow someone’s phone, call Alexia, and wait until she picked you up.

But that would mean a random stranger would have Alexia’s number on their phone. You didn’t know if people would recognize you and put two and two together on who you were calling. You didn’t want to take that risk.

You could call one of your friends, but you didn’t remember any of their numbers.

The only number you knew by heart was Alexia’s.

Placing your hands over your face, you took a deep breath and pushed back the stinging feeling behind your eyes. You couldn’t cry. You really wanted to because of how pathetic you were, but you couldn’t. You’d just feel even worse.

With every minute that passed by, you started to feel even more guilty at the thought of how worried Alexia must be.

Standing up, you decided you could just borrow someone’s Uber app, or even hail a taxi from somewhere. You decided that you had to go home right now. Alexia must be driving herself crazy when she realized you weren’t one call away.

Just when you were about to step into the direction of two friendly-looking strangers, the first droplet fell on top of your head.

“Fuck.”

Soon enough, the rain went down heavily. Everyone started running in all directions, trying to shield themselves from the pouring rain and you were left standing there, feeling sorry for yourself because great now you were stranded and drenched.

You sat back down and let the rain wash over you, finally letting out the sobs you were withholding.

You had a lot of thoughts in your head, but mostly, you just wanted Alexia. You wanted her right now. If you weren’t such a jealous girlfriend, you wouldn’t be in this situation. You wouldn’t be questioning her decade-long friendship with one of her best friends.

You wouldn’t—

“Amor!”

You whipped your head up and despite the water blocking your eyesight, you could always tell that it was your girlfriend’s figure running towards you.

You were a sobbing mess, sitting all alone in the rain in the middle of Barcelona, but still Alexia managed to find you. Alexia was drenched all over too, no umbrella in sight, as she kneeled down on the pavement and brought your crying face into her neck.

Alexia pulled back and you could tell that she had been crying too. Great. You felt a million times worse now.

“What the hell are you doing?! You didn’t have your phone with you, I didn’t know where you were!”

“I’m sorry,” you cried out, your voice barely audible due to the heavy patter of the rain. “I walked for a long time and I ended up here and it was an hour away and I didn’t have my phone, I couldn’t get back home without walking another hour and my feet are killing me and I feel so bad because you must be so worried and it’s all my fault! And now you’re here, I don’t know how you managed to find me but I’m so glad you’re here and oh my god—we’re both probably gonna be sick. I’m sorry! I love you, Ale, I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, hey,” Alexia cooed, placing her forehead against yours. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. I love you too, please stop crying, mi amorcita. It’s okay.”

You took a deep breath, which didn’t end up helping because having water fall over your head made breathing a bit harder.

Alexia placed a kiss on your forehead, standing up and pulling you against her.

You felt yourself sag against her, Alexia holding you upright. “Can we go home? I’m really cold.”

“Of course, mi vida. Let’s go home.”

—

Once you got into Alexia’s car, you started to cry again.

Mostly because it was warm and you were so relieved, but also because you felt bad that you were flooding her car with your wet clothes.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Alexia placed her hands on your cheeks, wiping away your tears.

“I’m ruining your leather seats. Your car is ruined.”

Alexia let out a laugh. You looked at her like she was crazy. “Stop laughing at me,” you cried out. “Ale.”

“Oh, bebé,” Alexia tugged you across the console, wanting to pull you close once more. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”

“Then?”

“You’re too cute, you know? This will all dry up, amor. Besides, you’re not the only one whose clothes are wet. Look at me.”

You knew Alexia was trying to cheer you up, but at the reminder that the reason Alexia was soaked in the first place was because of you, you felt your bottom lip start to wobble.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Now we’re both gonna freeze to death.”

Alexia simply placed a kiss on your cheek, putting the car in gear. “I won’t let you freeze to death.”

Looking out the window and seeing the familiar route home, you felt at peace even though you were still trembling from your wet clothing.

You didn’t know what state you would be in had Alexia not found you.

“Ale.”

She looked at you for a split second before redirecting her gaze on the road. “Hm?”

“How did you even find me?”

You saw the smirk before she could answer. “It’s called telepathy, amor.”

“Ale. I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too,” Alexia shrugged, a coy smile on her lips. “It’s our connection, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at her antics. “Whatever. Idiota.”

Alexia laughed, her hand blindly searching for yours. You let her take your hand, the touch causing warmth to settle deep in your chest.

You didn’t let go of her hand all the way home.

—

After taking a warm shower, you laid on your side of the bed, waiting for Alexia to finish with hers.

(Alexia decided to shower in the guest bathroom, not wanting to invade your privacy in case you were still mad at her.)

(You quickly rebutted her statement and said that you weren’t ‘mad’ at her, just ‘annoyed’.)

Just when you were about to call out her name because Alexia was taking too long when she could shower in under five minutes, your girlfriend appeared, leaning against the doorway of your shared bedroom, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Can I still sleep with you or should I stay in the guest bedroom?”

You gestured for her to join you on the bed, relief falling on Alexia’s face as she approached you.

Once you were both under the covers, Alexia immediately resumed her position as the big spoon. You placed your hand over hers that was draped across your stomach, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you.

“Can we talk about it?” Alexia whispered.

You didn’t want to. You were embarrassed. But you knew you had to. So you took a deep breath and let out everything you had been feeling for months—how you knew Alexia loved you, but oftentimes your thoughts took over and convinced you that Alexia couldn’t love you fully, not really. Especially knowing that she could have someone as perfect as Jenni.

“Y/N, I don’t want Jenni. I’m not in love with her anymore. You have to believe me.”

“But she’s… she’s perfect for you.”

“You’re perfect for me. It’s you I’m in love with. It’s you I love, Y/N.”

You turned around at the way Alexia’s voice was shaking, which was usually the tell-tale signs that she was about to cry.

And sure enough, Alexia had tears welling up in her eyes and that broke you. Your girlfriend was never one to cry often so the sight made you crumble and realize just how much she was telling the truth.

You reached out and wiped away her tears that managed to escape, placing a soft kiss on her nose. “Please don’t cry, Ale. I’m sorry—“

“Don’t apologize,” Alexia interjected. “You have nothing to apologize for, baby. I’m just sad because you can’t see how amazing you are. It pains me that you don’t see yourself the way I see you.”

“I guess I just can't wrap my head around the fact that you can have someone like Jenni, yet you’re choosing to be with someone like me.”

“Hey, don't be mean to my girlfriend,” Alexia turned serious, staring right into your eyes as she speak. “She’s perfect to me. She’s the only one I’ll ever want. Ever.”

You stayed quiet, taking in her words. You still didn't know what Alexia saw in you, but with the fierce stare full of determination she was wearing, you were starting to believe her. Believe that there were amazing qualities about you that made Alexia fall head over heels in love with you.

“You promise that you’ll love me even though I’m nowhere near as good as Jenni at football and I’m not as famous as her—Ale, I don’t have a World Cup trophy…”

“Y/N, my love, of course I do. I promise. I love you. I do, with all my heart.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m still going to have my insecurities. They’re not going away just like that.”

“I understand, amor,” Alexia placed her hands on your cheeks, caressing them gently, you could feel her love for you seeping from her fingers. “I’ll tell you everyday that you're all I’ll ever need until you believe me.”

You didn't have to be a footballer and you didn't have to go and win a World Cup, Alexia would still love you for who you were.

—

The opening game of the season fell on your birthday. You were seated at your usual seat with Alba and Eli. Eli had organized a small party after the game, she had baked you a birthday cake and wanted you to blow out the candles before your birthday dinner with Alexia.

When your girlfriend went out to the pitch, your jaw dropped. Instead of wearing her usual 11, she was wearing your birthdate on her back.

She easily spotted you in the stands, pointing at her back then pointing at you. This is for you, you could hear her message loud and clear.

You could cry right there and then. (You did cry).

Later Alexia uploaded her usual post-match Instagram post. The pictures of her wearing the jersey with your number made it extra special, especially the video she included of herself running over to you, lifting you up in her arms, and spinning you around—the happiness radiating from the two of you clearly visible.

The cherry on top was the caption underneath:

special numbers today in honour of my girl’s birthday. te amo mucho, amor @y/n 🥰❤️

All those fears of being not good enough, all those fears of Jenni replacing you, you now thought it was all so silly.

Because you knew without a doubt how much Alexia loved you.

“What are you daydreaming about?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, a cheeky smile on your face. “Just thinking about how dumb you look with that birthday hat on.”

“Hey! This is all for you, amor!”

You laughed at her pout, the pointy birthday hat still sitting on top of her head.

You were at one of the fanciest restaurants in Barcelona. Everyone was wearing a fancy dress—you were wearing one too, Alexia on the other hand was wearing a dapper three-piece suit.

You had a birthday hat in your clutch from Alba earlier and once you both had ordered, you took it out and gave it to your girlfriend. You jokingly asked her to wear it, not expecting her to do so.

But when she took it with a roll of her eyes, “anything to make you smile” falling off her lips and she ended up wearing the thing throughout your dinner, you had no more doubt that it was you Alexia wanted.

You didn't have any football silks, you weren’t a World Champion, you weren’t Jenni Hermoso.

But with every waking moment you spent with Alexia, you could feel how much she loved you despite it all.

Especially when Alexia got down on one knee and especially when you had a mini-you running around. You knew that there was nothing in this world that could change what you had with her.

(Not even Jenni Hermoso, who is now someone you call a best friend and the godmother to your daughter).

—

thanks for reading, let me know your thoughts!!🫶🏼

#woso x reader #woso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso community #fcb femení

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kazumist · 3 months

Text

DRUNK WORDS ARE SOBER THOUGHTS .ᐟ

✩ — in which you found yourself confessing to your childhood friend, soshiro. all thanks to the liquid courage you got.

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. fluff. cw: reader is implied to wear makeup (but i didn't really use any gendered terms haha), ooc!hoshina i think.. uhm i wrote him differently here than how i usually write him ack TT. wc: 778. one (1) pet name used (bub). reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated !!

“let’s get you home.” hoshina swings your arm over his shoulder as he places his arm around your waist to balance you in his hold. “huuuuh? have we met before?’ you ask as your words are slurred. you look at the man holding you, squinting your eyes to get a good look at him (though that doesn’t really help because nothing is really processing for you at the moment). “we’ve been literally friends since we were kids.” hoshina says.

“ehhhh? soshiro?! no way! you’re all… you’re all so grown up now!” you exclaimed. soshiro takes note of the blush on your cheeks, and the way you keep stumbling in your steps. although it’s rare, he just sighs as he confirms that you were absolutely drunk at the moment. “that’s because i ain’t a kid anymore, you silly.”

getting you back to your dormitory was a hard task, even for the vice captain of the third division. only because during your trip back you kept making random comments like how soshiro was almost as pretty as the moon (you were looking at a street lamp thinking it was the moon) and he could only hold back his laugh.

as hoshina settles you on your bed, he proceeds to remove your makeup from your face. knowing you this long was enough for him to become familiar with your routine when it comes to attending celebrations like these. he gently wipes the cosmetic products from your face, making sure to keep quiet because you finally slept.

well, apparently, you still woke up either way. “you know, hiro…” the nickname rolled off of your tongue perfectly—almost too perfectly, if soshiro must admit. only you could call him that; after all, you were the one who came up with that nickname for him anyway. you stared at him with half lidded eyes, too tired to fully open them. “you have a stupid face.” you finish.

hoshina found himself dumbfounded.

“eh?”

“but it’s my favorite face to look at.”

oh.

"i suppose i'm grateful for the compliment.” he pushes the hairs that were hiding your face aside and chuckles. “you should go home; i might do something stupid.” he tilts his side to the side in confusion. “like what?”

“like kissing you.” he froze.

surely, this is just the alcohol, right? soshiro wonders, surprised at your words as he held his breath. “or maybe i roll off of my bed and end up sleeping on the floor.” you continue. he lets out a sigh of relief. soshiro only kept his feelings for you to himself. though he’d casually make some gestures, and that’s good enough to question if you’re crossing the line between friends and lovers.

“you should sleep. you’re completely drunk right now.”

“i'm totally, absolutely not at all drunk at all. like... at all!”

“sure, and i’m not the vice captain of this division.” he receives a pout from you as you turn away from him. he laughs at your antics, gently shaking you as he apologizes. you refused to face him as you focused your gaze on the wall. liquid courage was no joke—because you somehow feel more confident to admit more... personal thoughts to the man who’s sitting behind you.

“hey, soshiro?”

“yeah? are you feeling a bit better now?”

“i… would you hate me if i said that i like you? like, you know… more than what we are right now.”

once again, hoshina froze. his breath hitched as he processed what you had asked. would you hate me if i said that i like you? your voice echoed in his head. you still refuse to face him but you know that he knows that he could see you right now. no, he wouldn’t hate you—hell, why did you think that he would hate you because of that in the first place? he would be ecstatic!

“can you face me for a minute, bub?” the pet name came off so smoothly—you were the only one he called that with. you hesitantly, roll to your other side, looking up to the man sitting on the side of your bed. you quickly avoided his gaze, but his hand pushes away your hair from your face again. “i wouldn’t hate you for that, but i’d rather not have this conversation when you’re drunk like this. so don’t forget this conversation, ‘kay? we’ll talk about it once you wake up. can you promise me to remember this, bub?”

“i promise. how could i… forget…” you trailed off. yawning in between your words before your eyes finally decided to rest themselves.

soshiro feels delighted that he has something to look forward to for tomorrow.

#( writings )#kaiju no. 8 x reader #kn8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina #x reader

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salmalin · 11 days

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My sincerest apologies and warmest welcome to my rant about FF7: Crisis Core. Or, as I like to call it,

Propaganda: The Video Game

I say this with the utmost affection. Crisis Core ranks really high up there in my favorite Final Fantasy 7 installments. I played it when it first came out, borrowing it from a friend to play on a borrowed PSP. And, the more I learn about the game and the more I replay it, the more everything lines up.

This game is not about Zack Fair.

This game is about how Capitalistic Propaganda can sink into every aspect of life to the point where it is entirely indistinguishable from reality. And it’s very overt about it. So…

Here we go.

My treatise on Propaganda’s starring role in Crisis Core.

Part One: The Timeline

Something that a lot of people gloss over due to decades of Child Heroes in media—Japanese Shonen and Shoujo series in particular—is how young these protagonists are. We’ll hand-wave a lot of stuff in non-live-action series with just a little bit of suspension of disbelief. And that’s honestly just accepted these days. But here’s the thing about those hand-waves.

Final Fantasy 7 doesn’t do that.

Now, FF7 hand-waves a lot of stuff. For example, how far you can travel in a day by foot, the distance a man weighing approximately 165lbs can jump after being genetically fused with what might as well be a cocaine demon (Jenova), and how much hairspray one can reasonably carry on a cross-country journey while on the run from the feds.

Age is not one of them.

Exhibit A: Yuffie Kisaragi.

Do I really need to say more? She acts her age. So does Zack. And Aerith, even. Most of the characters in the original lineup were over twenty for a good reason. We see several kids in the series, and they all act their age, too—both the OG and the remake. Age is not a thing that FF7 really grapples with. It’s something they take relatively seriously.

Now, to the point.

Zack is 16 when Crisis Core starts…

… and he was 13 when he ran away from home without his parents’ knowledge to join the military.

Which accepted him.

At 13.

Without a parental permission slip.

Think about that for a second.

… Or for the next several parts of this breakdown.

Part Two: The Main Character

As I mentioned in the introduction, Zack is not the main character of the events of Crisis Core. Instead, he is the focal point of the second person POV. This is not the first time Square has done this. It was done most notably with FF9, FF10, and FF12. (I’m not going to go on an Akira Kurosawa rant right now, but please check out his film “The Hidden Fortress”. FF12 and Star Wars episodes 4-6 borrow heavily from this film.) The purpose and position of this character is such that they might best witness the effects the other characters make on the world as their stories unfold, usually in the role of a love interest. For Akira Kurosawa, it may have been told this way because these people are most effected by the decisions being made.

“Well, then, Sal,” you may be asking, “who would you say is the main character? Would that be Aerith, since she’s the love interest, like in the other games?”

No, actually.

It’s the antagonist.

And by that, I mean Genesis.

Hear me out. I used to hate Genesis, for I was once young, full of judgement for flamboyancy (thanks, internalized homophobia), and was led by the narrative to believe he was mean to his friends. Then I met my Lovely beta who loved him, so I wrote a fic for her as a gift. So for that I kinda just… read stuff. Because that’s the thing about Propaganda—you gotta read stuff to navigate it. I read the in-game emails. I re-watched all the scenes I could get my hands on with him. I read his wiki and tried to track down more information about him. Then I watched the scenes in Japanese and gained a better understanding of not just Genesis, but Sephiroth’s character. And I realized that Genesis was put on this road from the start. In fact, a big part of the fact that he’s seen the way he is in Canon—only at his most hostile and lowest points—is because the story is told through Zack’s point of view.

So before we get into the breakdown, here’s the hard facts about Genesis.

1. He was a test tube baby who may or may not technically be Angeal’s fraternal twin brother, which we are not going to unpack right now.

2. He was adopted by a relatively rich family.

3. He was a child genius (which requires not only resources, but drive to achieve), and at a tender young age of like… ten or something? He decided to mess around and literally invented pasteurization. Which is incredible, and really speaks to his knowledge of the world and ability to grasp complex concepts even at a young age. But, again, this is not the time or place to unpack that.

4. He was best friends with Angeal, who might as well have been the sweetest, kindest boy to ever walk the Planet. (I’m biased. I love him.)

5. As a teenager, he became fixated on Sephiroth, who had gained national acclaim as a SOLDIER despite them being the same age. (Please see part 1 and think about that for a second.) He then goes to join SOLDIER and brings Angeal with him. And Angeal brings his step-father’s puritanical “hard work is honorable” mindset with him. (On that note, Angeal and his father’s arc really are a wonderfully scathing letter to companies that overwork their employees and how toxic/unhealthy that line of thinking is. But. Again. We are not unpacking that right now.)

6. At one point he became consumed with LOVELESS, a series of poems with heavy prose and symbolism thicker than syrup. It got to the point where he was so well known for it that there was an entire fanclub dedicated to both him and analyzing the text.

7. While he was in SOLDIER, he repeatedly had his achievements publicly accredited… to Sephiroth.

Over and over and over again.

Everyone did, really. They mention it in the beginning of the game. Sephiroth even got public credit for Zack’s raid on the castle when he wasn’t even there. How much of his legacy is real? How much of it is made up? How much of it was faked? We don’t know. No one knows. But he keeps getting credit, anyways. And when Genesis confronts him about it, Sephiroth doesn’t care. In the Japanese version of their fight scene, you could even say he indirectly implies that he wants Genesis to take his place as the “hero”. In the English, Sephiroth’s line is, “Come and try.” But in the Japanese the line is closer to, “Wouldn’t that be nice?” Which, depending on how you take his tone, can mean wildly different things—from mocking, to earnest, or even admiration—which is especially to tell because he might be annoyed with Genesis at the moment.

Fun Fact: In Ever Crisis, Sephiroth explicitly says they are making up his achievements in the press to target boys his age for recruitment. (Thus why they accepted Zack at age 13.)

My theory on this line is that he is being cynical; that Genesis doesn't understand just how harrowing and even humiliating his experience has been. This only enforces my theory that the "come and try" translation in the English not only does a disservice to a line as wonderfully heavy as, "Wouldn't that be nice?", but fundamentally misunderstands Sephiroth as a character.

8. Genesis then took the fight to Shin-Ra. Inspiring a good chunk of their staff to leave the company, he then staged multiple attacks on facilities, staff, and the main building—which also spilled out into the city of Midgar. He murdered his parents, buried them, killed everyone in town, and… Yeah. It wasn’t pretty. A lot of innocent people died simply because they were vaguely associated with Shin-Ra. These are the actions of a villain. What’s more, this is clearly a sign that he has been acclimatized to death and violence by Shin-Ra to the point where he doesn’t even consider taking hostages.

Except.

Except the entire town was a Shin-Ra town.

Banora, canonically, was a Shin-Ra built town, which means everyone there was basically an employee of the company. No one was safe. Everyone was a threat. And that…

That was how he was raised. And he finally knew the truth—that every moment of his life was touched, controlled by Shin-Ra, all the way down to his very conception. He has never known freedom. He has never known his own identity. And now that very cage was killing him, slowly and painfully, and turning him into something that couldn’t even be recognized as human. He was watching himself rot in the mirror, and it was all because of Shin-Ra’s greed. And as he searched for salvation, he sunk into LOVELESS as he always had, hinging his entire life on Minerva’s Gift because he knew he was dying and that was all he had.

9. And then he died…

10. … but then it turned out LOVELESS was actually kind of a blueprint, and he did meet the Goddess, and he did get reborn without his degradation so he was rewarded for his journey in the end.

So why wasn’t Genesis the main character of the game?

Simple.

His actions challenge the status quo without being about the status quo. It’s a story about revenge. It’s a story about retribution. It’s a story about answering mass violence with mass violence and ultimately being rewarded by it. And while, yes, the series is an action-based violence simulator, the violence in the original FF7 was a guided, tactical effort. (For all that the characters aren’t the brightest bulbs in the sun lamps.) But the biggest, most obvious shift in the narrative happened when they realized their role as terrorists—bringing mass violence to the company via bombing and open aggression—was just resulting in increasing levels of retaliation against uninvolved people. They might as well have been a child beating the ankles of a giant. The goals and themes of the game fundamentally change when they realize that answering mass-scale societal violence with mass-scale physical violence was not only unsustainable, but also wasn’t going to solve their problem.

FF7 is about change and learning when violence—and what kind of violence—is appropriate in the face of different threats.

Genesis’ arc undermines all of that, and making him the main character would contradict the very heart of the OG game.

So, instead, we are positioned as Zack, connected to him through a mutual friend. From there we see all the damage and horror this vengeance brings to those living under the status quo.

But also, that plotline’s a major downer in a lot of ways, so they needed to lighten things up a bit to keep audience involved. And that’s why Zack is, well…

Part Three: Zack is a Himbo

Please, for the love of all that is holy, keep in mind that everything I say here is with the utmost affection.

Zack is dumb as a rock.

He is a charismatic, enthusiastic sixteen year old jock who ran away from home at thirteen years old to join the military. Which, please know, why I say “military” I mean “private security guard force with a standard-issue Death Baton and a license to kill”. The first scene in the game is him being excited that he gets to murder a bunch of people in a simulation, which he is immediately scolded for by his mentor. He is a glorified, souped up private security guard who is canonically only in it for the glory at first. He wants to be a “hero”, but doesn’t seem to fundamentally know what that means. And, over the course of the story, the definition of that clearly changes for him.

Which tracks, because the story takes place over a period of time with high stress.

Occasionally I see people saying they wish that Zack had more complexity to him, and honestly? The game. Would be. SO. BAD.

Full Disclosure: I am not the biggest fan of Zack specifically because he lacks a lot of nuance. I wish he was a bit more complex, too. But I also know that would break the game. What’s worse, if he was still on Shin-Ra’s side because he understood Shin-Ra’s mission… Well… That would make him a villain, or a cog at best. That’s not main character material. It would make the ending more messed up, though.

Anywho, Zack was thirteen when he left home. He had no formal education. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing. He even joined without a permission slip from his parents. This means that Shin-Ra was accepting thirteen, possibly fourteen year olds into the military. (Some people will say this tracks because you can get a job at fourteen in many parts of Japan. But, and this is important, you aren’t allowed to be a security guard until you’re quite a bit older, and you need a specific license for it, much like in the US.) Clearly they didn’t teach this boy critical thinking skills. Not because he’s a himbo, but because having their Super-Powered Private Security Force With A License To Kill think independently would explicitly go against their interests. (EX: Genesis.)

Shin-Ra needs SOLDIERs to follow orders or the company would no longer be able to function. Seconds and Thirds aren’t even allowed to reject missions. (One could argue that sending certain someone on back-to-back missions would be a good way for them to eliminate undesirables within the ranks by sending them to their deaths, which… would make an incredible fic idea, actually.) We already know that First, Second, and Third Class rank assignments do not actually reflect the power of the SOLDIER. This is canon. I would instead argue that those who make the rank of First Class aren’t necessarily the most powerful, but are instead the most visible in the media, thus the easiest to market, and/or the easiest to manipulate and control. (For a great example of this, see The Umbrella Academy.)

The point is, Zack may have been elevated to his position as a first specifically because he is malleable and single-minded. Even after all he saw with Genesis, he stuck by the company to the very end, with the exception of the time Sephiroth was literally guiding him to fail a mission. Zack allowed himself to take Shin-Ra’s side every time, taking down their enemies and following their orders, preserving his “honor as SOLDIER” as he had been taught. The only thing that made him stop…

… was literally getting put in a jar.

It was when he was no longer a SOLDIER.

Part Four: Honor

There is no such thing as SOLDIER Honor.

I repeat: There is no such thing as SOLDIER Honor.

It is a fictional thing that is borne of an ideology based around hard work. It only has power because it is believed in. It is an intangible social construct similar to the law, mathematical order of operations, and gender roles. So why are Angeal and Zack obsessed with it?

Pretty simple.

Angeal’s step-father followed it.

Now, we know three things about Angeal’s step-father.

1. He was chill with the fact that Gillian was already pregnant when they started dating.

2. He was a very good father.

3. He worked himself to death trying to pay off the sword he bought Angeal.

This, of course, says a lot about Angeal considering he rarely uses the sword. He essentially sees that sword as the symbol of his step-father’s life. Everything he uses it for, he sees as more important than his step-father’s life. That thing is usually Zack.

Zack, who is the child who joined the military based on stories of heroes.

Zack, who rises against Angeal in the name of his own step-father’s ideology and tries to talk him down, even at the very end. But Zack fails because he fundamentally doesn’t understand what’s going on, partially because “Soldier Honor” is just one more aspect of this narrative he was given. It is a narrative that Angeal has had to step away from, even though he doesn’t want to leave the memory of his step-father behind. He was a good man. He was a good, hardworking man.

And that is why he died.

Corporations will use you up until there is nothing left, then honor your memory/sacrifice. Shin-Ra was doing the exact same thing the company his step-father worked for did; using up SOLDIERs until they outlived their usefulness. And Angeal was horrified to realize that his “SOLDIER Honor” wasn’t honor at all.

It was willingly submitting to control.

But, unlike Angeal, over time, this meaning changed for Zack. Partially because he didn't understand it fully in the first place. It became about acting with integrity. It became about helping people. It became about not lying down and watching the abuse Shin-Ra handed out in exchange for literal money; for maintaining the status quo.

At the very end, Zack understood what it meant to be a hero.

Part Five: The Conclusion

To sum up, Zack believed in and idolized the propaganda spread by Shin-Ra at such a young age, and was so convinced by it, that he ran away from home at thirteen to join the military.

He was their target demographic, so they happily took him into their ranks. What’s more, people think this is normal enough that we see no one opposing this, because the only people who oppose Shin-Ra are “extremists” or “violent terrorists”.

Zack then became their loyal puppy, groomed to fill his role as super-powered attack dog to sick on anyone they deemed appropriate, and he filled the role. He believed he was doing good. He didn’t think they were invading another country, because that’s not what he was told.

He went after Genesis, because that’s what he was told, and he wouldn’t let Genesis’ actions shake his faith in the company.

Then he went after Angeal, hoping to get answers, only to become more confused. Angeal taught him about SOLDIER honor. He taught him about a higher calling. He was the one who made Zack truly loyal to the company. This challenged everything Zack knew.

He went with Sephiroth, planning a small rebellion of their own (a white lie on paperwork) to get answers, only to find things he wasn’t ready for and couldn’t fully understand.

Zack is shaken by each of these events. Horribly. At times, we even watch him grieve. But time and time again, he doesn’t leave the company. He sees the damage they do first hand, and he doesn’t leave the company. The company isn’t the problem, to him. He reads their emails, does their dirty work, and “maintains his SOLDIER honor”.

Zack swallows what they give him right up until what they give him is torture.

Zack swallows what they give him until he becomes their victim.

Every step of the way, Zack is fed a story of how the world is. He was raised on it. He lived it. He became part of it. He was paid peanuts to enforce the status quo Shin-Ra installed in the world by force, and he was proud of it because it was, to him, something to be proud of.

Zack believes the propaganda whole-sale, and we get to watch, from the point of view of an outsider, as it slowly destroys his life before killing him.

Propaganda has the power to make suffering normal. Propaganda has the power to make murder righteous. Propaganda has the power to take a thirteen year old boy out of his home so they can give him a sword, and when they point him in the direction of their enemies he charges of his own volition, because they made him believe in their cause. And he believes in their cause because he believes that it makes life better for everyone.

But that’s not what’s actually happening.

That’s just what he was told.

Crisis Core is about propaganda, and the depths to which it can affect our lives. It changes our belief systems. It changes our perceptions of reality. And when it’s torn down around our eyes, it can make us go insane. It can make us violent and unreasonable as we realize just how much violence is being forced upon us—violence other people just plain do not see. It's just a a piece of paper. It's just a law. It's just a job.

It's just a war.

Final Fantasy 7 was about Fascism.

Crisis Core is about the propaganda that built it. It is told from the point of view of a boy, then a man, steeped in it. He watches until the people suffering around him—Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal—are twisted into villains by the truths and lies around them. Genesis and Angeal are tortured by truths, Sephiroth is transformed by lies, and Zack is subsequently hunted down to conceal them.

Crisis Core is Propaganda: The Video Game.

#thank you for coming to my TED talk #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #zack fair #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #angeal hewley #crisis core

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ruruvxz · 1 month

Note

Can you write like a really really loser minji with like uhh a teasing playful and mean flirting fem! reader basically like a baddie reader 😭😭😭 idk how to explain it man so the thing is I saw this dynamic thing like minji is the taller one but gets teased Reader is the shorter but teases minji!! Just some fluff no angst please 😔

“Apple Cider”

Nerd!Kim Minji x Mean!Reader

↳ synopsis: After being kicked out of a house party you found yourself wondering the streets with a pounding headache. It wasn’t all that bad when you suddenly came across a taller woman, and not letting this opportunity through your hands, you ask to get her a drink.

↳ cw: mentions on intoxication, drunken kiss, prudish reader, mentions of language, reader is an ex-f1 racer, pure fluff

↳ wc: 3k

a/n: I kinda wrote this as a prologue of “10:36” but don’t worry it’s all pure fluff and this is basically how you met Minji… anywayssss it was really difficult to write this as I kept having to redo it since I didn’t like all my other proofreads (and the fact I’m a tall girl myself…)

Stumbling over a traffic cone, your head thumped and pounded as you were suffering a major migraine, which added to your irritation as you were leaving the worst party of your life. Everything was beginning normally, you came early as usual to lend a helping hand to one of your mutual friends, watching the people pool into the cramped apartment. How everyone's shoulders collided as you all tried to fit into this tiny apartment made you more irritable.

It wasn't until someone poured a drink onto your already drunk state and began to berate you, that you finally took your leave. You bit your tongue, you didn't want to start anything so you swung your f1 academy jacket over your drenched shirt to cover the bright stain plastered all over and took your leave. Everything was so disorienting, walking through the crowded streets, you found yourself stumbling across the business district. You loathed this part because it reminded you of your impending doom of being a corpse slave, but at this point, you were too drunk to care.

All that lugging around trying to find a place to camp out wasn't making anything any better, your only saving grace was hauling your way to the nearest 7-Eleven. Thank the stars that you managed to wobble your way inside and pick up 2 bottles of apple cider, a drink you commonly drank to force your way back to sobriety. As you checked out your items you made yourself comfortable on a concrete diver and chugged the first drink down.

It was extremely sour, so you pushed yourself only to take small sips, whilst admiring the stars above you. A little ashamed that you got kicked out of a party so early on, usually leaving by 3 am, but it was only 9 pm. That was beside the point, as you felt your head stop thumping less and less, and finally, your headache dissolved completely. Sighing in relief, you looked at the spare bottle wondering how much of a waste of money it was to buy 2. Before you could return the bottle for some reward points or something along those lines, your ears picked up a large "Oomf".

Your eyes darted towards the noise as you saw a beautifully dressed woman, trip over a traffic cone, similarly to you. She was stunning, her long black hair falling softly onto her face, and with her tall stature, everything about her was so breathtaking. You even took notice of the dark eye-bags circulating under her gorgeous black eyes, she looked so fatigued it even made your partially sober state worry for her. You thought nothing more of her before she tripped once more dropping her glasses right in front of you.

Picking them up worriedly, you walked over to her and reached your hand up to pick her up. She looked up at you wide-eyed as you dragged her bag up, she immediately started apologizing as you handed her the glasses. Not realizing how tall her stature was until you stood right in front of her. As you examined her face closer as she pushed the glasses up from the bridge of her nose, she couldn't help but blush. You chuckle at her reaction a bit before speaking up.

"Are you alright? I just saw you trip on air right now..." You joked as the woman looked even more sorrowful, the idea of someone as dazzling as you watching her make a fool out of herself was humiliating. She grabbed her hand and rubbed her nape as you continued to laugh at her little accident, finally letting it all out she spoke up.

"I'm sorry. it's just I was so tired I couldn't see where I was going." She responded continuing to run the back of her neck while looking down at your smiling face. She wasn't lying though, after a long 3-hour seminar about economic ethics, she was beyond exhausted, especially since this was being taken out of her weekend.

"Maybe it's true, tall people don't have balance." You laughed at her, a part of you still a little drunken as you giggled at her antics before speaking up once more. "I've got some spare apple... drink, I uh, drink it if I want to energize myself— here take it, it's not like I was gonna drink it anyways." You insisted as you handed her the drink forcefully, her response being to weakly snatch it from your hands.

The drink was still cold and she had no problem drinking it, especially since a strikingly young woman, probably the same as her, was offering it to her. Usually, if it was anyone else the black-haired woman would've meekly declined their offer and moved on with her day, but you were different somehow.

As she cracked the cap off, she took a huge swig before coughing out from the sour taste, her eyes bugging out differently that tasted from her expectation. She looked at the bottle's wrapping as it neatly read "Natural Apple Cider", it wasn't bad but it was most definitely surprising. However, the way she spat out everything made you laugh hysterically even more.

"Hahaha, I'm so— hah... I'm so sorry, it's Apple cider." You laughed as she stared at the bottle for a little bit longer and then pried her eyes back to you as you chuckled loudly. "You looked so hilarious! I can't—" You continue laughing at her before gaining your composure once more, "I'm Y/N, sorry about that."

"Wow, uhm..." She was bewildered at your carefree attitude after practically just meeting her, but she laughed with you, your laugh was far too intoxicating. "I'm Kim Minji." She responded as she pushed a hair behind her ear before reaching out her hand to shake yours. You quickly do so as you ogle her height.

"I'll just call you... Tall girl!" Minji was dumbfounded by the nickname, which wasn't much of a nickname as it was just a plain-out observation. She looked around then back at you confused why you sounded so sure about that name.

"Now come on tall girl, let me get you an actual drink as an apology." You beamed as you offered her an actual drink, it wasn't even an offer actually, more of a subtle demand under the pretext of this being a sweet gesture. Minji, who was so hooked, just agreed while you dragged her by the hand and led her to one of your all-time favorite jazz bars. She couldn't help but chuckle at the circumstances she was facing at this moment, a shorter woman she had no prior knowledge about was offering to get her a drink.

As the both of you pushed through the crowded streets of drunkards and other ripped folks, you would mumble incoherent words that she would only understand bits and pieces. Minji would question why you kept mentioning some party and you'd scowl at her wondering why she wasn't listening, how could she? You were practically slurring your words every single sentence? But oddly enough, she found it so endearing whenever you would laugh it off. She was also still surprised how you could be so clearheaded and strut around in such a stunning outfit while not being the most sober person. Everything about you from your face to your minute details made her heart beat out of her chest.

You didn't notice how her hand tightened just a little bit, while she thought of the idea of you leaving her. Even for this midnight, she'd like to give this thing a try. As you headed inside the jazz club, you indicated sitting near the bar top. Minji, who wasn't a big drinker, (actually didn't drink at all before this situation) was a bit hesitant at first but she swallowed her fears and sat down right beside you. You ordered 2 amber ale beers and the bartender delivered, the drinks decorated with a frothy top as you took a large swig. Minji was stunned at the fact you could just coldly drink the bitter drink without any hesitation, making her believe it wasn't all that bad.

She lifted the drink to her lips, the froth coating attaching itself to her philtrum, as she took a short sip before abruptly sitting it out with a cough. It took you by surprise as she continued to cough out her drink, you patted her back to relieve her, thinking she might just be choking. As you leaned into her to make sure the taller woman was okay, your nose picked up her delicious scent of fruit punch. "Oh my! Are you okay?—Woah you smell nice, but are you good?" You repeated yourself as Minji came down from her coughing spree. As she lifted her head back up to look at you, her cheeks flushed red, not wanting to admit that this was probably the first drink she'd ever had in her life. She flailed her hand around trying to indicate she was fine as she continued to let out hiccuped coughs.

It took you a few moments as you dissected her reaction before connecting the dots, ah, this was the first time she'd ever tried beer, a trashy one at that. "Oh. Is this your first time trying amber ale?" You questioned, she looked even more flushed as she hid her face with her palms, pretty much summing up your theory, you didn't expect that, after all, she looked like she was your age. Even entering the bar she showed the bouncer her ID and everything was checked out, so how could this possibly be her first-ever drink? As questions pilled up in your mind you couldn't help but let out a loud laugh, catching the attention of a few fellow jazz enthusiasts who were just trying to enjoy the music. Paying no mind to the glares of middle-aged men who had nothing to do but "appreciate" the gentle hums of the musicians, you spoke up a little too loud making Minji a tad bit more embarrassed.

"Your kidding! There's no way this..." You laughed, raising the drink higher up to give her a look before slamming it down on the counter. "...This shit! Is your first drink, tall girl." She sighed as you continued to tease her on the fact, before letting out a very long exasperated sigh whilst taking another sip of the drink. Minji wasn't in the mood to deal with you— a complete stranger— remarks on her visible lack of alcoholism. Truth be told, she hated people who drank since it would always lead to confrontation or messy tears, and she wanted no part of that. The fact that anyone would order an alcoholic beverage on her behalf would've made her scoff in disapproval before sending the drink back, but for some particular reason, she wanted to impress the alluring girl right next to her.

"D-Don't call me that, besides, it isn't," Minji said, trying her best to convince the girl next to her that she was much more bold than she was, despite coughing up her drink. "I was just, uhm, surprised that's all!" Was all she could muster up as you continued to laugh your ass off, you should've probably asked her if she drank or not before dragging her to your favorite Jazz Club, but you were paying for her drink, so really, was it your fault.

As the night went on, you both mutually started to order more and more drinks, as the clock struck 2am, you finally decided to wrap up this get-together and head home. It was kind of refreshing meeting someone new though, in the span of 5 hours, you learned more about her than you knew about your closest friends. Of course, not by your own will as it was her turn to babble her head off, she talked way too much about trivial topics she was into you found your migraine resurge for a bit. Things like her favorite romance novels or manhwa titles and synopses that you could care less about were all engraved into your memory, after all for some reason you couldn't take your eyes off of her. But eventually, everything has to come to an end...

That is what you would've said if she wasn't practically clung onto your arm with her head resting on your head as she loomed over your quite tiny build. If you knew she was a lightweight you probably wouldn't have encouraged her to have more drinks than she could handle, especially since you had to pay for each and every one she got. More than that, you wouldn't have agreed under the pretense that you had to drag this not-so-complete stranger back to her apartment. She was quite heavy as she was pressing all her body weight onto you as you searched and probed for directions to her apartment, her words slurred and giggly as you finally found her residence.

It was quite elegant as she lived in the well-off areas of the city, it made you jealous at the thought of anyone ever living so extravagantly, but it was better than having to drag her up the stairs if she lived in an apartment complex like yours. You fished the wallet out of Minji's back pocket to grab her complex's card key and unlocked the elevator for the both of you. As you hauled her into her apartment, you took in the view, everything was so dimly lit and the only light was being emitted by the city's scrappers and other colossal-sized buildings.

You chucked her onto her leather couch as she spewed more nonsense about her economic homework before finally taking a breather on the couch. She was adorable but you're too prideful to admit that to her face, you decided to just grab some water and sober her up a bit before heading back to your place with your roommate. Walking over to her, you handed her the glass of water before carefully monitoring her like a child, making sure she didn't choke. As she sat up, she swallowed the water in one goofy gulp.

"Hey now, don't drink it like that you might choke like last time, tall girl." You chuckle as she looks up at your standing posture with a pout, fixing the hem of your shirt you prepare yourself for your leave. Turning back from her gaze she weakly and fairly loosely grabbed onto your wrist with a hushed plea. "Please stay, Y/N..." Her voice filled with longing as she croaked out, making your heart soften at her state. You let out a playful scoff before taking a seat on the couch right next to her, Minji's eyes lighting up as you do so. She looked like a total lovesick geek right now, but you found her so endearing as you both sat in silence, taking short glances at one another.

"Your hair, it's really nice Y/N, can I uhm, please touch it." She spoke as you nodded softly, letting her delicate fingers stroke the back of your head, feeling your hair strand by strand under her palm. As she continued she looked more and more entranced by how truly gorgeous you were, her breath hitched once she stopped, leaning down to rest your head on her thighs. If it weren't for how dark her apartment was, you probably could've seen her cheeks radiating red, as her blush plastered her whole face. The way you looked so, unbothered, made her heart sink even further, she had never felt this way about anyone, mainly since she's usually cooped up in her apartment, avoiding any contact with anyone other than her close friends.

Resting your head gently on top of her, Minji's eyes wandered around your whole body, taking in the sight that was in front of her. Her eyes landed on your scarlet leather race jacket, it was tailored perfectly for you, she let out a nerdy smile as she looked at all the patches that decorated your jacket. "That jacket... it's really cool, I like it."

"Than I shall wear it more often." You responded, reaching your hand out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, your knuckles softly caressing her heated cheeks. Despite how much you hated being reminded of your past as a failed driver who was promptly kicked off the grid, her words soothed you enough to encourage you to wear it more often. Looking back at the party that happened, you were glad it didn't work out since it meant that you met her.

You both sat in silence after your little comment as she only let out a snort, her face still burning red as you laid on her. "Hey, do you mind if I sleep over?" You asked, and she nodded responding with a quiet, "Sleep as long as you want."

"Great, I don't have anywhere to stay." You lied through your teeth, not wanting to go back home and stay by her side.

"Hey Y/N, do you like me?" Minji asked boldly, still clearly stuck in her drunken state.

"Yeah, but not that much, Tall girl." You teased as you brought your hand back up and pulled her down to your level, your noses inches apart, threatening to touch. "How about you?"

"I like you a lot..." She drifted off, her answer in part to the fact she was quite dazed, before continuing she leaned closer to you. "But not that much."

You laughed once more as you cupped her face, gently pushing her face closer, interlocking your lips together as you kissed, her face was hot, steaming almost as you released her hands from her face. "You look so out of it, come on', I'll go buy you some apple cider to sober you up."

"I prefer fruit punch, actually!"

"Then let's drink both."

#idol x female reader #idol x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #female reader #gxg #Kim Minji #Minji x reader #Kim Minji x reader #Kim Minji x female reader #minji imagines #girl group imagines #I love fluff #GRAAHHH WE BOTH LIKE APPLE CIDER #not my proudest work ngl

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dukeofankh · 8 months

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Trying to find progressive masculine community is so exhausting.

I've flipped through local men's groups, trying to find places to explore masculinity in a chill, progressive setting. First of all, they mostly seem to be modelled after AA, and like, my gender isn't a debilitating addiction, it's part of my identity actually, but also, the invite and description of the event have maybe a short paragraph tops actually waving vaguely in the direction of what the purpose of the group is, and then ten to twenty paragraphs breaking down the rules. One spent longer talking about the hand signals he would use to direct conversation than he did describing what the conversation would be about. Another had a full paragraph explaining that if the group thought you were evading what they thought your "real" problem was, they'd probably "call you to take accountability". Like...I don't even know who these people are yet and they're already letting me know that they view it as their right, no, their duty, to bully me into seeing things their way. Like, this is in the invite.

...and this warning is there instead of any sort of breakdown of like, I dunno. Whether you should be a feminist to show up. Whether it was a safe space for queer men. What the hell they wanted to talk about. Joining a men's space is on some level inherently submitting yourself to the authority of the leaders of that group, and you don't usually get a particularly clear breakdown of what the values and goals of those leaders are, because on some level the answer is always going to be "whatever I want"

And like, unfortunately you do need to filter men to build a men's space. You do need to remove or chastise men who act in ways that are toxic or disruptive or misogynistic. If you don't things turn into an MRA chapter pretty quick. But the sort of emergency powers that leadership takes on as a result of that...just kind of naturally end up reproducing masculine heirarchies.

MensLib, the only online community of progressive dudes talking about masculinity that I'm aware of, is...on Reddit. So there is a moderator system. In theory, a moderator is there to...moderate. This is a space where people are going to be talking, and mods are there to make sure things don't get too toxic or off topic.

The issue is that, on some level, that is technically a leadership position. In a sub trying to rehabilitate masculinity. So you've got a bunch of folks who view themselves as the leaders of this bastion of goodness standing against the depredations of the misogynistic internet, guiding the hapless smooth-brain neophytes towards The True Way.

In practice, this looks like 95 percent of the posts submitted for the subreddit being rejected. That isn't hyperbole. On average, the sub has about one new post per day. Almost all posts directly relating a personal experience are deleted immediately, in favour of articles written about masculinity in traditional media publications, which are considered more trustworthy than the sus lived experiences of the guys in the sub. The post I wrote here about the effect of purity culture on male sexual shame that's sitting at about 15K notes was based on a 10K word post I wrote for Reddit that was deleted because "I didn't cite any sources to prove that there is a link between purity culture and male sexual shame, or that my experience was anything more than anecdotal". I get comments deleted on a regular basis, and after paragraphs of protesting in modmail that my comments are both fully in line with feminism and not against the rules, the mods have just finally told me that the rules don't actually drive their actions as a team. They delete anything they feel leads the conversation in a direction they personally feel is unproductive. The rule cited at the time of deletion is really just the broad category of why they decided to hit the button that says nobody is allowed to read what I wrote.

The issue is kind of twofold. First of all, progressive men do not trust other men. A good dude knows that he, individually, is a good person, but literally any other man external to him is on thin ice. Do you really want to tie your wagon to that guy? Do you trust him, really? How do you tell the difference between a guy criticizing an article because it's factually incorrect and criticising it because a woman wrote it? Probably best to play it safe and delete it. Weight of the odds, he's probably a misogynist, right? This is the internet.

And thats the other half of it. If you view yourself as part of the leadership of The Good Guys, and you're getting hatemail from incels and facists all day, you get to the point where most of the time people challenge your authority it's because they're a terrible person. It is very, very easy to get to the point where someone challenging you is seen as evidence that they are a bad person. And now someone is challenging you (and therefore bad), in an environment where you are in charge, and you have a "make your opponent disappear" button.

I know. A Reddit mod was rude to me and now I'm butthurt. It's petty and stupid. I'm just feeling like there's nowhere else to really go, and I'm pretty despondent that literally every space I've seen that even looks like it might be for progressive men has the same deeply hierarchical structure and constant status-oriented squabbling as patriarchal spaces.

#me writing stuff #positive masculinity #menslib

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zvezdacito · 1 month

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Ranking Malleus's Valentines Messages from 2021-2024🔥

People finally got the 2024 ones so I decided to make a list like this. Mostly based off which ones have both the most interesting contents and which ones are the sweetest(?) in a sense to Yuu lol. Terminal Malleyuu brain + and I mean they are Valentines cards after all.

Going from least to most personally favored:

4th: 2023

Text: "To my dear friend-

Thank you. Never did I envision someone presenting me with the gift of sweet treats. It would be a shame for me to eat them all by myself. I think I'll share them with you. Would you be willing to provide the tea to go with them?"

Very broadly friendly and nice I guess, but the message of the text is basic and the design of the letter card is also kinda basic🥀 like tbh if you changed the color of this card you could mistake this for something Riddle wrote instead. The ones for this year really just felt like they ran out of ideas and gave up, this is the only one on this list I can say I definitely don't really like that much

3rd: 2022

Text: "To my good friend-

A gift? For me, of all people? Your tastes are...distinctive, I must say. Worry not, though- I enjoyed it, of course. What would you like in return, I wonder? I shall take great pleasure in speculating the answer to that question."

Definitely more interesting than the 2023 one and his personality really comes out in the writing here. Though because of how his closeness to Yuu is characterized here I now feel like it would make more sense if this was the first card and the 2021 was the second one, since if you take the cards to be written in a chronological timeline it kinda feels like Malleus's closeness to Yuu regressed out of nowhere

Not saying people can't change or grow apart later on, but here it kinda has the vibe that he straight up hasn't met them much yet so its as if this was earlier into their relationship. Basically feels if Book 3-4 Malleus got the gift, while 2021 is like Book 6 and onwards Malleus getting the gift.

I really like this one both for the yuu crumbs and it's characterization of Malleus himself, but it's number 3 simply by default of me personally liking the next two more. The gap between it and 2023 is huge😭

2nd: 2024

Text: "To my good friend-

Thank you for your gift. Hmm... This fragrance is meant for pleasure and relaxation? What a tasteful choice. I rather like it; perhaps I shall take more of an interest in these things. You would be welcome to pay me a visit, by the way, should you feel so inclined. I would enjoy sharing an old tale or two."

These are probably the most fun design for the letter cards so far. I think after last year (the 2023 one) they realized they really did run out of ideas for box shaped letters lol.

In general I just like the very sweet and casual friendship implied in this card. As usual he is doing everything in his power to invite Yuu to his place at any given opportunity. Cute how when they hang out they'll tell each other chismis stories, and that Malleus is gonna commit to getting into something just because Yuu gifted it to him. TLDR he's very comfortable around Yuu here that's awesome

1st: 2021

Text: "Dearest,

My thanks for such a truly wonderful present. It is only fitting that I should give you something in return. How about the gift of beauty? Perhaps the gift of song? Or... Well, never mind. Just a joke based on the legends, you know. I shall give you something I picked out myself."

I don't really think anything will ever fully top this one tbh. The greeting just being "Dearest" was so powerful they had to pull bro to the side and tell him to tone it down for the next 3 years🥀

The "gift of beauty song or..." lines can be taken as just him being 3 seconds away from jumping to smooch Yuu (given in the movie the last gift was true loves kiss related after maleficent cursed the baby) which is honestly kinda funny. Down bad /j

Ok back to the main point and minus speculations. This is tied with the 2024 one with showing how close and comfortable (shown by how forward and playful he is here no concern of maintaing image or such) this point of his relationship with Yuu is. This is also the card where he feels the most excited and energetic I guess which is why it's still my overall favorite. Displex had no choice contain the raw Malleyuu power in this one to avoid bias accusations idk

If you want to read into it more I think it's also kinda funny that this could lowkey be taken as him saying we suck at singing/look ugly. And the reason he stopped before revealing the last line is because he realize the joke had already come off as insulting to a human not familiar with the Briar Valley even if his intention was just to be playful as friends do.

Although that would be consistent with the characterization of Malleus as being honest if anyone's performance in something (even Yuu from what we see in voicelines) is lackluster.

He is constructive tho. In these same voicelines usually offers to help teach them to get better and acknowledging it as a feat/compliment itself when they slightly improve, instead of the fanon characterization (usually for masterchef comics) that once he finds out Yuu is behind something he will autonomatically just see it as good quality already.

So yeah idk that's nice and awesome

↑ Drive compiling of the rest of the 2024 Valentines letter pics I found on twitter. There's still some characters missing + trying to look for a clearer picture of the Malleus one lol

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst valentines #twst valentines 2024 #twst valentines messages

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millerscoffee · 1 year

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reader lives in jackson and is friends with tommy, so she sees joel relatively frequently, and they just DONT get along. the reader is young and she’s got a sharp tongue and cheek that irritates the shit out of joel, who shoots back just as much condescending insults. they literally can’t be in a room without getting into it. however, the reader does it for his attention (she’s got daddy issues), and joel doesn’t catch onto this until she’s knocking on his door at midnight because she can’t sleep and she needs him and she doesn’t know how to admit it. he pulls her in the house and absolute filth ensues. he makes her blow him and then they fuck. joel is smug and condescending the whole time, and reader just becomes a ragdoll. Size kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie/breeding, the works PLEASE

you got it, anon! ✨ this was requested on @atticrissfinch's page too, go check it out! i love how the same request can elicit two different stories. i did my best not to read it before i finished this (it was as difficult as it sounds cos HOO BOI 😅🥵♡)

only daddy that'll walk the line

6.2k | joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: big mean dom!joel™️ lmao, alcoholism (reader's dad, but also drunk!joel for a second - **this is not in the smutty scenes**), parental abuse (verbal, it is brief), smut, age difference (joel is 56, reader is 18-early 20s - your choice), size kink, dirty talk (joel's a talker more than his usual grunty self), name calling (bitch, brat, slut, etc.), light praise kink & like- two pet names, ✨ degrading language and acts ✨, edging, choking/gagging, hair pulling, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, spitting kink!!!, spanking, oral (m receiving), no prepping the reader, brat tamer!joel, bratty reader, if i missed anything lmk

summary: based in jackson, you have the unfortunate predicament of being friends with tommy miller and hating his brother, joel – and you have no problem in letting either of them know that! until one night you are brought to joel's doorstep.

A/N: this is my first request! thank you! huzzah!! hopefully it's to your liking, nonnie. he's big mean dom!joel™️ but with a conscience yknow?? enjoy ♡ i did proofread this, but i wrote it over the course of a couple weeks. i did my best! lol

"Dude, what's his fucking problem!?" You roll into the dining hall in a huff. Shuffling to your seat for dinner, you slam your tray down and Maria gives you a combined look of worry and irritation at peace being compromised.

"Who, honey?" Tommy asks, handing you a glass of water with an entertained grin because he's positive he knows just who you're talking about.

He'd seen the two of you go at each other's throats earlier in the day when you were trying to get by him on your way out the door. His back was to you, and he all but ignored your request to get out of the way. Causing you to shove past him, which ensued an argument between the two of you. Which led you to both of you gunning each other with your words until you both left in a bad mood.

Joel had his back to you, his frame fully in the doorway as he spoke with a woman in town. It started off slow: a few clearings of your throat, a slight nudge of his back. No avail.

"Excuse me," you shouted, pushing at him again before he finally turned around quickly with his jaw ticked.

"Do you have any manners, Christ." He said dry and muttered under his breath, but the lady made room for you and you nodded politely in her direction.

"Maybe if you weren't so fucking old, you could've heard me!"

"And watch your fuckin' mouth."

Joel turned his back to you, not giving you a moment to retort. Conversation over.

"This fucker," when you look up, you see Joel coming towards the table. The sight of him gives you a set of shivers you can't explain. Not complete disgust, but certainly not excitement.

"You really oughta keep better company," Joel tells his brother, sitting down beside him, he frames his entire body towards Tommy so he's sitting in a way to make you feel ignored.

"I'm right here, you know." Your head is moving so you're in the line of his vision.

"Don't remind me. Listen, this is a family dinner. Go find your own."

A slap in the face would've hurt less. Before Tommy or Maria had the chance to come to your defences – both of their mouths open ready to take up for you – you stood up, shoving your tray over to Joel. So loud, other people turn their gaze to the four of you.

"Fuckin– eat up, then."

As you storm off to your house, you hear Tommy scold his older brother but you don't look back.

---

The next morning, your father wakes you up to the sound of his own yelling for you to come downstairs. You'd been helping out Maria and Tommy to get your own place, or at least a shared one with people your age and to hear your dad's voice; whiskey-soaked and cruel, makes your stomach churn.

After slipping on your clothes for the day, you make it to the kitchen where he's sitting at the table and reeking from alcohol even from where you're standing.

"Didn't you hear me call you?" His words were slurred and angry.

"Yes, I'm sorry." It's such a difference from how you talk to other people, talk to Joel, for example. Maybe because he's the last person you spoke to, but he's the first one who pops into your head during this interaction. You sound meek, scared to say something wrong. A stark difference from how you speak to Joel – abandoning all worries of punishment. Almost like you wanted that from him.

"Fuckinbetterbe – hiccup – breakfast. Now." Your dad all but snaps his fingers and rage creeps up the back of your throat, biting your tongue so hard you break the surface layer. A slight streak of blood coats your mouth, but you do as you're told.

This morning is kinder than others. Your dad did not say thank you for the pancakes, you didn't get hit or debased too much. You consider it a win. Once you leave your house as soon as you can, Joel's chest hits your face as soon as you turn the corner. The milliseconds seem long when you're met with the warmth and solidity of his chest, the scent of cedar and... whiskey? It seemed too early, even for him, to be drinking and you shake off the unreasonable rationale that he should be treated differently than your father for the same behaviour.

You ignore the similarities of him and your father all together, actually.

"Watch where you're goin'," Joel's brows are knit together, which is normal for him, but you've never been this close to see his lips from this angle above you. You almost say something out of the ordinary for the two of you, but you reel it in quickly.

"You're one to fuckin' talk. Morning coffee smells a lot like alcohol. Maybe I should tell Tommy about your habits."

"Does it ever hurt your head bein' a bitch all the time?"

"Not as bad as that hangover will be around noon. Move."

You push past the large build in front of you with a clenched jaw, unable to be around him a second longer. "Fuck you, Joel," you mutter for good measure on your way to Tommy and Maria's.

They'd given you safety on days when it seemed scarce, and showing up felt appropriate. You were a little closer with Tommy than Maria. He was able to listen to you without being too judgy, and you needed that. The lack of safety piece was a lot like how your day started off. You walk around to the back where Tommy's working on a new hobby and you sit in front of him, letting out a big sigh.

"Y'daddy givin' you trouble again?"

Typically when Tommy asks about your father he says it like this, but today it catches you off guard. Confusion twists your mind, but you nod distractedly. "Yea, he was drunk this morning. Your brother, too."

You slide that one in fast.

Tommy fists through his hair, letting out a heavy exhale. "Shit. We both got trouble this mornin', I guess."

"Seems like it."

You're unusually quiet, looking at the ground more than anything. It bugs you that Joel and your father have a similar quality to them. That they both are up reaching for the bottle, but for Joel it's not a common occurrence and that makes you worried – an emotion you don't have for him that often, if you're being honest. You don't think about his experiences that often. But this is the first time, really, you've even seen Joel drunk like that. You remember Tommy mentioning that he'd given up the stuff since Sarah's passing when everyone was around a fire one night sharing stories.

As if the dots connect in real time, you look over to Tommy who looks worried sick.

"He'll figure it out," you reassure, chewing the inside of your cheek before heading out. You call behind you, "I'll be around."

You've never really been good at the whole 'being there for someone' thing.

Later on, you find yourself in the mess hall again for the night's dinner and you catch Maria, Tommy, Joel, and Ellie all together and it feels weird to sit with them. They're all laughing, Joel looks sobered up. And it seems that Tommy didn't bring up the conversation the two of you shared. They look like a happy family and twists a knot in your throat and the proverbial knife at your side.

"Can I please spend the night at Tommy and Maria's? Please?" Ellie is looking over at Joel with the sweetest expression, you snicker to yourself at how menacing she actually was. It seemed to do the trick, though. Joel's eyes flicker over to you, and it feels like you're being caught for something. The look is inculpatory without you doing anything. As if to say you are witnessing something too personal, a side of him not meant for you. "Yeah, sure," his response to Ellie sounds distant.

This gives you no choice but to walk up to the scene, to sit down beside Maria. She gives you a welcoming grin and makes space for you. "What'd I miss?" You look over to Ellie who's excited to see you, but Joel? Not so much. His eyebrows narrow down his face, suddenly more quiet than usual, even for him. You set your sights back on Ellie who's telling you all of the cool things she's gonna do at her Uncle Tommy's and you flash a smile that lets her know you're listening. Or at least trying. It's hard when Joel isn't even initiating the usual conflict with each other. More arguing than speaking. And the fact it wasn't happening was off.

"That sounds like a blast...," you trail off, your chin in your hands.

"If you're not gonna listen to her, don't ask her questions." Joel barks, eyes now solemnly black in your direction. It makes you scared and delighted at once. Like he was back to normal. Your normal.

"I was listening to her?" You retort, and everyone's quiet now. Awkwardness filling the air as the two of you battle it out. "Maybe if you weren't so drunk all the time you'd know the differen–" "Hey, now." Tommy chimes in, giving you a stern look of disapproval and you feel bad. Reflective. Joel wasn't drunk all the time, and you knew exactly why he was this morning.

You exhale, "I'm sorry," you nod in the direction of everyone but Joel and stand up from your seat, "enjoy your family time."

On your way back to your house, you catch a glimpse of a group of people your age. People you'd grown up with, but they didn't acknowledge you and it digs the wound closer in. You truly felt alone. Like nothing fit, and maybe you didn't belong in Jackson but it wasn't like there were many choices to go to.

---

More times than not you sneak into your room. Not because you are past a type of curfew, you were an adult. It was more, you didn't want your dad to know you were around. Your door was locked when you climbed in through the window.

You got comfortable, spilling out of your clothes for the day and into your pajamas. Cotton shorts and a loose tee. Your breasts perky and nipples taut from the worn fabric. A lot of the day was spent dealing with heavy subjects that you just wanted to let your mind escape.

Staring at the ceiling in your bed, your eyes become blurry in need of sleep. Needing release. Anything.

Your mind wanders to why Joel was so quiet with you when you sat down. It wasn't like that was the first time the two of you had a shouting match in front of everyone, but this felt different. You deduce it to Joel having an off day and let your mind wander somewhere else.

Or, at least you try.

Because when your hands explore your body under the blankets, Joel comes back to life in your thoughts. You come back to the warmth of his chest when you ran into him this morning, the grunt that left him from impact. What that would sound like against your ear. Before you know it, you're shifting your thighs together, spreading the mess of your cunt. A craving ignites your bloodstream.

It's slick between your legs when you sit up, and you're full of determination unbeknownst of where it's coming from. The act itself is a little heady, but you have nothing to lose so why not?

Slipping on a pair of shoes and a jacket that covers your clothes, you turn your back to the window and scurry down until you're able to jump off onto the grass. One step close to where you want to be.

Joel's house is across the street which makes it easy to get to, but aggravating when you want a sense of peace. He's always around, shooting you a menacing stare when you're not down each other's throats but there's an ache you can't deny. A compulsion.

You knock on his door twice before he swings it open almost like he saw you approach, but he doesn't tug you inside like you thought he was. Doesn't make you get on your knees or fulfill any fantasy of being used. Of... making him proud.

"What?" His question is dry and a part of you is crushed. He isn't taking advantage of the way your legs look in your shorts right away.

"You're not the only one who had a bad fucking day," you start, but he doesn't give you a moment to push through the door because before you know it you're being pulled inside. The sound of a slamming door somewhere behind you. You're forced to look at him with his paw wrapped around your jaw, thumb tilting your chin up effortlessly. It locks you in place.

"You came here. Why? Y'want me to fuck your bad day away?"

You gape is panicked, eyes wide now in this compromising position. You can't think, you can't nod or say words. You just stare.

"She's real fuckin' quiet now," Joel shoves you against the closed door, not letting an inch of space be wasted and he takes your wrist with his free hand, palming you over his hardening cock in his jeans. "How about now. You payin' close attention?"

You whimper, nodding softly as your fingers massage and rub, tug at anything you can through the fabric.

"Did I tell you y'could do that?" His words make you pause, shivering at how truly empty your mind is in the moment. Even in your inexperience you don't know you've ever felt so instantly timid. Joel makes you fold at the first hint of misbehaviour. You can't think of a thing to say. Halfway don't know why you're here in the first place, and he's got you so wet from this it almost hurts. Stickiness coats your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and you're sure it will be obvious even through your cotton shorts.

You shake your head, and he's sick of you not speaking to him. Squeezes your face tighter, "Use your fucking words."

"No... no you didn't," you manage and you've never heard yourself sound so pathetic.

"I didn't, that's right. You answer to me." The snapping sound of his words causes your eyes to roll in annoyance. He doesn't own you, he never fucking could. The action makes his jaw tighten, his hand from your jaw in a grip that didn't hurt now is wrapped around your throat and although it's not tight, it certainly isn't loose. "What the fuck was that?"

You're back to being silent, unable to do anything but take.

"Not asking again."

"I rolled my ey–"

"You rolled your eyes. Roll your fuckin' eyes at me again, little girl. You'll regret it."

A cool threat, you think. Meaningless, even. What possible reproach would he have anyway?

It's then you take in the house. You'd been here once before to stay with Ellie. It's dark, a single lamp upstairs. All of this is background noise to the drone of your need prickling your youthful skin. It's apparent, your age difference, when you're this close. His rough fingers, wrinkles catching the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

"I–I'm sorry," you've been saying that a lot lately.

"Don't apologise to me. Don't say sorry when I know you're not." His thumb moves from your chin to your lips, thumbing over just how pliable and soft they are and it sends your nerves to the surface. Prying your lips apart, he presses inside and you willingly wrap your lips around it to lap the pad of his digit. "Look at that sweet thing," he says, more at you than to you, and your neck flushes being this willing to suck for him, "so easy for me to use. I put my thumb to y'er lips and you just took it right in, didn't ya?" The taste of his skin robs you of any other sense, his tone making you all but fold.

"Show me what this mouth is good for, 'cuz it sure ain't good at a sincere apology."

Before you know it, you're on your knees. Joel is kind enough that he ushers you down onto the hardwood floor and you can't believe you're face to face with his crotch in front of his door, no less.

"You couldn't wait to take me to your bedroom?"

Joel doesn't reply straight away. Instead you hear the clanking of metal, a zipper coming undone, and the slap of his cock hitting his abdomen on the way out of his pants. You take mental note that he hasn't been asleep by his attire, but it's all for nothing when your eyes make out the shapes in the dim light. You choke when you see just how big he is.

He tuts, leaning his head condescendingly as he takes a chunk of your hair in his palm to tilt your chin up to greet his cock. "Aw, you think you're goin' t'my room?" The words make you feel naïve, the one or two times you've done something like this didn't have nearly as much... compromise. And you certainly didn't hook up with someone twice your age. You don't have time to be self-conscious because the head of him, the leaky head of him, is tapping against your lips and your eyes roll back as you open your mouth for him. After jumping slightly in surprise, of course.

He sighs in relief with a deigned smile, pushing his hips further. "Fuck. You hear that? Nothing! Sounds so fuckin' good, shuttin' you up."

But it's not entirely nothing, is it? Not with your gagging, slurping up what you can but you don't know what you're doing all the way and fumbling through half of it. Doesn't seem to faze him much.

It's obscene as it feels, him using you like this – and you don't feel an ounce of guilt when it's exactly what you want. The switch flips on why you came to his door in the first place. His big thumb swipes over the corner of your full mouth, "You like that, dontcha, filthy thing?"

And you hated how right he was. You wanted to scream, kick him. Retaliate in a way so you could still be in this submission at the same time.

Your mouth was full by the earthy taste of him, obliterating whatever feelings you had about the day. A bad mood that he had contributions in, but it's melting from the constant thrust of his hips. And he's keeping your head locked in place, hand gripped in the strands so you can feel your spit mingling with the underside of his cock. Honestly, every part of his dick is covered in your spit. It spills down your chin, threatens up your nose when you gag, leaves your eyes to water when you look up at him in a dire need to breathe fully, but he's not done with you.

Not until the loudest, lewdest pop from your mouth you've ever heard does Joel break contact completely. Steps back until you're being observed in a patronising way. Your gone expression. All saliva and tears and his precum smeared over your mouth. You can barely bring yourself to look up, but his demands seem to do the trick.

Snapping his fingers at you to get your attention, you swallow hard. "Nuh uh. You're not gonna get all soft on me, girl. Wake the fuck up."

Which would be simple if he wasn't practically dragging you by your hair, making you crawl on your hands and knees until you're on your feet and you're shoved onto his couch.

All that and you're still dressed.

"Off," he's barking commands like you're a trainable being and if you were in any other state, you may reconsider this whole ordeal, but when he pushed you onto the couch your legs spread just enough for him to see the wetness smearing the cotton at the apex of your thighs and that amuses him. "not good at hidin' how much of a slut y'are."

"You think it's just you that does this to me?" You find your voice again, hoisting yourself up to sit on his couch as his cock – thick and proud – sways against the fabric caught between it. Your tongue presses to your cheek when you make eye contact, "You're kidding yourself."

The venom drips so fluidly from your tongue, Joel doesn't make a sound. Just peels off his clothes until he's standing there naked in his house, giving you living proof that you are kidding yourself.

The silence speaks for itself. He is pure smug under the sight of your drooling gaze.

"It's real cute that you think y'got control over the situation n'all," the weight shifting on this couch from the cushion shaping around his knee. Joel sits down, taking you by the scalp again to cloak you over his lap stomach-first, and you yelp in surprise when he does all of this and tugs your shorts down in one fell swoop.

With your hair in his fist, his other hand ghosts over your ass in effort to make sure you squirm for him before administering a devilishly loud spank to your ass. "But somebody better teach you better manners. Sure as shit itn’t your father."

You crack out a sob at that– from the contact and the truth. You couldn't retort, you were too busy getting slap after slap against your increasingly worn ass to think about anything else. "Lucky I ain't making y'count. You'd have this for eternity now."

Not that it mattered anyway. He's leaving mark after mark of his large handprint across your cheeks, probably ten more if you could even focus on anything else but finding the words to stop him.

"Please– y-you're right," tears stain your face as you bury your face in your arms. Flinching when Joel moves, you expect another searing punishment, but instead he pulls your ass apart and you gasp at the cool air striking your cunt that's hot and wet for him. "Joel!"

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, wet from gettin’ punished. I talked so bad about you, and you liked it? You’re as desperate as I thought. Only good for gettin’ my cock wet.” And it’s like a lever is pulled when your slutty little smile plasters over your face with him out of view. Not that you had much time to gloat, or to experience the pleasure of living in your own fantasy because Joel’s got you pulled again. His thick thighs spread apart when he maneuvers you so willingly to sit between his legs. Right where he wants you. Right where you can feel the throbbing pulse at your folds. He tells you to take off the rest of your clothes and you would be a fool to do otherwise.

“Bad girls don’t get the luxury of bein’ opened,” that Texan drawl slips over your ear when he holds the base of his cock, slicking himself through your folds, you gasp and wriggle against him – his grip tightening harder. Silently warning you if you make another move it’s over, you’re done. It’s over. All the while the searing stretch of him causes your cunt to flutter and clench around him. It’s too much, too overwhelming, and he won’t let you adjust long enough. “You’ll get over it,” but it’s not reassuring. He still sounds in control despite his laboured breathing and when he can, he moves his hands to grip your hips and guide you down on him. You scream, a knee jerk response wriggle away from him, but this position doesn’t quite allow for that.

“Be a good girl.”

That folds you, quite literally, as he moves his hips down to pound up into yours, using you like his own toy to get himself off with. And it’s just the incredible sounds of your squelching cunt and his balls tapping against your folds. The fucking isn’t frantic, but it certainly isn’t soft. He’s rough with you, a hand traveling up your back to grip your hair so your neck is back in place and he lifts you upright so your back is curved, neck craned so if you tried, you could make him out – upside down. “Poor thing couldn’t help it, had to get a daddy to take care of her. You want that, kitten? Wanna be used and as daddy’s little fucktoy – only good for makin’ me cum?” his hand sneaks around to the front of you with his free hand, he presses and digs into your pubic bone to make you feel exactly where he is. “Put a baby right here. Make everyone know what you fuckin’ did.”

You whine, eyes rolling back at the thought. It was so obscene, nothing like you’d ever even heard of before. Where did he fucking learn how to talk like this? Your brain is swimming while your sticky sweetness coats his lap, clawing at his thighs for any sort of stability, but it was dizzying how he had you. How his grunts filled the air in between slaps like he had your hips placed at the perfect angle for him to work you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His gritting teeth by the shell of your ear, he keeps you secure within your hair to snake his arm around the front of you tugging and rolling at the sensitive nubs of your nipples. When he feels you appear to drift off, those rough hands supply another smack, but to your tits this time, your fingernails clawing into his thighs involuntarily as you squeal in surprise. You tighten at that, fluttering around his cock and you feel it at the edge. So close you can almost taste it.

But he knows you’re close, too, and there’s no way in hell he’s giving that to you. Not when you’ve barged into his house like this, not when you’ve done nothing but be an insufferable brat to him since the moment he came to Jackson.

Joel hovers you over his lap, and your heels dig into the floorboard. His hips still, keeping the very tip of his cock inside of you – you feel panic flash over your body. “No,” it’s the first word you’ve uttered in god knows how long and it sounds desperate. Any hope of getting an orgasm swirls down the drain, and it’s set in stone when he pushes you on your back – the lumpy couch digging into your skin. “No, no, please. Why!”

His eyes could burn a hole through you. Like a hungry dog, his body hovers – shoulders stooped, head down when he pours his gaze into you. And he likes what he sees. Legs open and begging, willing to do anything to get him back into you. Your cunt glistening, even in the dull light and he can tell it’s pulsing. “Poor thing’s clampin’ around nothin’,” he teases, grunting when his knees meet the couch cushions – another tell of his age. But you, you’re too preoccupied in taming the ache between your legs to comment. It burns, coming back to a fixed state you realise how stretched out you were and it’s more than overwhelming. To know you haven’t been used to completion, all hope draining from your face.

“Joel,” your breath is shaky underneath him, pupils blown and wet when you make out his features, “Joel, please. Please, I want this.”

“Darlin’, I know you want it. Everybody in town knows you want it,” his words make you sob a whine as they approach closer to your neck, the delicate graze of his beard dances at your pulsepoint and you shudder. Hips raise and he’s quick to slam them back down into place. “If you want me, ‘Joel’ ain’t whatchu say to get me.”

And if you felt hopeless before, you really do now. Unable to do anything but debase yourself for your own pleasure. You’d heard it earlier, the way he referred to himself with a name that brought up mixed feelings at Tommy’s. You swallow down embarrassment, looking him in the eyes – which were faded obsidian, your fingernails dig into your own thighs as if to brace for what’s tempting to slip out of your throat.

You hated that he made you nervous.

And you hated the hold he had over you.

But he had it, there was no doubt about it. He had it. He had you.

Your jaw ticks forward, fully aware of your clit screaming for attention and exhale shakily. “Please, daddy. Please, I want this.”

“Eh,” Joel muses, shaking his head, “I don’t believe ya. Really gotta hear the desperation in your voice. Maybe if I,” his hand reaches for his cock, slapping the sloppy head of it against your folds and that– that sends you. Takes you to a different destination entirely because for the first time all night there’s attention to that bundle of nerves, and he knows it. He knows you need this in order to give everything over to him in full. “Daddy!” you screech, pelvis jutting up in full inclination and without a single word, Joel’s cock spears into you all the way to the hilt. All the way to your cervix.

His hands, emitting heat and wrapped largely around your hips, locks you where he wants you like some animal in heat. It forces you to bring your legs up into a position you aren’t sure you’ve ever been in – thighs against your stomach, by your sides. It’s so, “deep,” you whimper, head rocking as your mouth flies open and he’s delivering you thrust after thrust of pleasure so wrecking no noise comes from you.

“Is that what you needed? Fuckin' brat,” Joel is still able to tease, but even he isn’t immune to how tight you are around him. Your fluttering core begging for release as it moves in and out around him – as if it’s doing its own begging. “You wanna be filled up to the brim with my cum, babygirl? Needy fucking cunt like you only good for matin’ like this.” Your skin burns at his words, your body convulsing as you do your best to keep it together.

That’s when Joel’s hand wraps around your throat, a line of spit falling into your mouth and you willingly drink from him. “You hold off, you ain’t gettin’ it tonight,” you pout for a moment, not fully understanding what he means by that, but he clarifies when his hips get sharper, more precise. As if his cock is hooked inside of you, not letting a drip of precum spill out of you against your cervix. “Y’ain’t cummin’, but I am.”

His grip around your throat gets harder, and you swear you can see every vein in his face rise to the surface when he uses you. You’re limp, all thoughts washed away – his cock thick and long, you aren’t even sure how he fits it all inside of you but he does. The edge of your stomach bulges as he works you, his neck cranes back to expose his neck and it’s too much to take. For both of you. His hot cum ropes cords inside of you, sticking to your walls. Filling you up is an understatement with how much he has to give you. It’s as if you can discern the moment his seed grazes your cervix in its sticky texture. Your head is swimming at the sound of your animalistic grunts, he looks so… fucking hot like this. His name is replaced with ‘daddy’ more easily than you care to admit. You do try not to chase your orgasm… a part of you does, anyway.

But you’re defiant.

You can take yourself there without him telling you to, and in fact the opportunity to disobey him is just what you need to send yourself creaming all over his cock. You gasp, eyes wide before they roll back and you’re fucking yourself on his spent cock that somehow still has life to it. Even for his age, he can still keep it hard for you after his seed coats your insides. “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” becomes part of your breath, and you’re shocked he doesn’t pull out of you even though his hips are still. You don’t notice it until you come down considering you’re using him. Did he say you could do that? As if you’re woken up by an alarm, you jerk at the sensation of the orgasm you snuck. Without his permission. You look up, and his knuckles are bleached around your hips. He looks so menacing like this, scary. You shake your head, swallowing hard in your attempt to fix things.

But it’s too late for you. You’re a brat at the end of the day, and he has to train you. Make you realise the error of your ways.

His cock is still buried deep when his middle finger plays where the two of you connect. A whine escapes you, shivering now, not quite sure what he’s going to do. He’s lethally quiet, you aren’t sure how to react. He’s contemplating what to do to you, he’s not met someone who’s as menacing as he is. As unwilling to give away freedom. Not since… his nostrils flare as he inhales.

“I told you not to do that,” Joel stating the obvious makes you clear your throat, his cock twitching inside you in the aftershocks sends your teeth to bite down on your lip and you shake your head, “I c- I couldn’t help it!” You lie, and he knows it. Compels him to prod that middle finger just above his cock inside you and the stretch is too much. When you reach out for his forearm, his other hand darkens over your wrist, pinning it back in a way that hurts. You wince in tandem with it and his monstrous hook of the digit inside you. You’re so full, “It’s too-it’s too much!” you tap at anything you can, but he’s not listening.

Instead, the pad of his finger has no problem in touching that spongy bit inside of you – especially since your cunt is stretched from his cock and he can see it. His cum tempts to pool out of you, but he shoves it back in, working his finger inside you repeatedly but he’s just rubbing. He’s just rolling his finger against your g-spot until you feel so overstimulated it brings more pain than pleasure. “Came like you knew what you were doin’,” he finally remarks, thumb rolling over your clit and you can’t take it. “Please, pl– it’s too much! Daddy!” That rhythm is sly, though, in making you come undone. Again and again. As you’re on the peak of what would be an explosive orgasm, Joel pulls out of you entirely. His cock, his finger. His warmth is a distant memory when he stands up, palming over his cock. How did he get hard again?! He would deal with that on his own time.

Your moan is choked out, thighs pressing together for any sort of… something. A release, a grind. You’re left panting and begging, your tits perky and heaving for him.

“What did I say, little girl?” He climbs into his clothes, one button up at a time with his flannel. “You won’t be cumming for a week with that fuckin’ attitude.”

You’re so lost in chasing a feeling, soon to disappear as it could arrive that all you can do is whimper and nod. “I’m so–” his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. Spit covers your face, and you hum like a kitten at the feeling of his hot saliva down your cheek, “What did I fucking say about apologisin’ when you’re not sorry?”

You wipe your face, sucking the spit off your thumb with a satisfied smirk. “Fuckin’ loved it, daddy.”

He swallows then, his head shaking in disbelief over how much of a filthy bitch you are. “Yeah, yeah you fuckin’ did. Belong to me now, you understand? Gonna let everybody know what a slut you are for this cock.”

And you would be lying if you didn’t experience a swell of pride in those words. You’d be down each other’s throats again in no time, but the look of ownership that adorns his face over you is too much not to bask in.

“A week?” You study him, eyes wet and round, look up at him and you see his cheek twitch in response.

“Gonna be two if you keep it up.”

You let out a faint sigh, resting your head back on the armrest. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he coos, leaning down to press his lips at the shell of your ear. Fingers tucking his cum back in your hole. He relishes in how hot you feel under his fingers.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

taglist: @cool-iguana - dm to be added!

#bee's requests #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #tlou smut #joel miller requests #dom!joel #brat tamer!joel #brattamer!joel #bratty reader #bratty f!reader

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quizzicalwriter · 8 months

Note

i really love ur writing especially with any matt dillon character <3 i feel like u improved sm with ur recent fics too (or maybe i just like the angst HAHA) but uve always been a great writer, i love how u also include canon details and like realistic details (if that makes sense) but u just r really good with expressing ur words!! id love if u wrote smut like dally bothering fem!reader working a shift at the diner or something idk nonetheless ur writing is sosososgood

Cherry

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas makes everything better after a shitty day at work, most of which had been his fault in the first place.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Pain in the ass Dallas. Make-up sex, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words! And thank you for the request!

Word Count: 4.5k

Working at a local diner wasn't necessarily the high point of your life, working the closing shift even less so. Dealing with inebriated patrons, groups of teenagers, and the occasional male who stayed well past the hours of operation was your usual.

It was a cute thing, the diner, owned by a man who'd inherited the land from his grandfather. His wife had based the menu on her recipes, along with a few from her mother, grandmother, and so on. You'd worked there long enough to gain their trust, and if you were honest, you saw them more as your grandparents than you did your employers.

Dallas accompanied you on the busier nights, whenever he passed by and caught sight of the unruly nighttime crowd, he'd duck into the diner and give you a crooked grin before making his way over to the counter. You fed him, or gave him drinks, just as you did the remainder of the guys whenever you could get away with doing so. It was calming, and made you feel safe having your guard-dog of a boyfriend waiting by the front counter until you flipped the sign that hung on the front door.

While his presence was welcome, the attention it drew was not. Possessive streaks weren't something you prided yourself on. You trusted Dallas as anyone would their boyfriend, but you weren't blind to him either. Dallas was a man, a cocky man at that, his cockiness flared whenever a woman looked his way for longer than a second. Had he ever truly pursued someone other than yourself? No, but, you couldn't help your jealousy whenever a woman approached him with glossed lips and bright eyes.

Internally you thrived on him turning down each woman that came his way, although, much to your dismay, some women took longer to disperse than others had. Whether it was due to Dallas's charm, or their persistence, you weren't sure, nor did you have the ability to check during busy shifts, especially when a man who looked as though he'd seen conflict in the Civil War whistled from the other end of the diner.

"Miss!" He called, waving his hand higher than he had seconds ago. Truthfully, you weren't ignoring him, you'd had to run two other checks to nearby booths and had simply forgotten about him. "Miss!"

With a feigned smile, you peeled your attention from the woman all but draping herself over Dallas, her thin fingers splayed over his forearm. He smiled back at her, the sight made your stomach sour enough for you to partially crumble the bill you'd written up moments prior for the increasingly impatient man.

"Here's your bill, sir. I'm sorry for the wait, busy as all get out tonight."

Your apology was met with a gruff laugh, but he seemed to understand your plight as he followed your line of sight back toward the front counter. While he signed the bottom of the receipt, he cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him.

"Ain't no sense in apologizin'." He responded with a lift of his hips as he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. "I get why your attention's elsewhere."

You opened your mouth to apologize, only to be met with the raise of his hand as he placed a few dollars down on the table, enough to cover the tab and your tip. It was generous and kind enough to leave you mentally berating yourself for not having given him better service. But, you ventured by the kind, almost apologetic smile upon his face that he had been in a similar situation in his youth.

Incessant laughter bubbled from the opposing side of the diner, the noise boisterous enough to pick away at your fading patience. You pocketed the cash, inwardly begging whatever deity listening for the grace to clean up shop and kick the girl out without causing a scene.

Their conversation continued, words muffled by distance and the clatter of putting away cutlery, although you tried your damndest to overhear it all. You began your routine of cleaning up house, a wet rag over your shoulder with a bottle of cleaning solution in your left hand. As you spritzed a nearby table, her laughter kicked up a notch, yet again.

"We're closing!" You called, giving her a feigned smile as she turned her head to face you. She returned your smile, just as you had given it to her, coarse and fake. You bit at your inner cheek as she turned back to Dallas, her hand lifting to rest against his shoulder.

"Hey, we're closed!" You shouted, tone louder than before. Dallas peered at you from behind her shoulder, face a mixture of shock and amusement. You were having none of it, not her bold and brazen behavior, his cockiness - none of it. You tossed your rag toward the counter, slinging the bottle alongside it as you moved toward them.

The woman, for what it was worth, met your eyes as you approached. The sudden eye contact left you stumbling over your thoughts, but as you caught sight of her hand still lingering upon his shoulder, all sense of humility left you.

"He's taken, did you know that?" You asked as you grabbed her wrist, quickly shoving it back toward her. Her smile faltered then, her eyes flickering between you and Dallas as she backed away. "No, I suppose you didn't."

All anger you had directed toward her vanished with each step she took toward the door, instead raising and flaring at the man sitting beside you. You turned, meeting his gaze with a scowl and a shake of your head.

"Seriously, Dallas?" You asked, although you knew no response he could provide at that moment would abate the growing ache in your chest. "You're an asshole. A real - fuckin' - asshole."

Each pause was accentuated with a shove of his shoulder, jealousy seething in your mind, burning your eyes with tears you refused to let him see. You could tell from the sudden switch of emotion on his face, albeit blurred from your tears, that he hadn't meant to hurt you. His hands grabbed your forearms, holding you steady whilst simultaneously shielding himself from your jealousy-fueled tirade. You were in no mood for his touch, so you pulled away from it with a grunt.

The sooner you finished closing up shop, the sooner you'd be away from him. Those words rang in your mind as you walked away from him, repeating with each step as though it were a mantra.

It was shitty; your jealousy, his cockiness, it was a toxic mix that neither of you relished in. You had known going into your relationship with Dallas how he handled interactions with women, you knew where his loyalties were, yet some part of you continued to twist and sour with each look his way.

Maybe it was the extra shifts you'd taken at the diner, the fewer hours you were able to spend by his side, being reassured by his touch and his words. Whatever it was, you hadn't the patience to linger on it, all you wanted to do was wallow in your anger - so, you did.

"Doll!" He called, although he was met with no answer as you tossed unclean plastic menus onto the countertop. You could hear him walking toward you, swearing under his breath, yet you continued to ignore him as you snagged your house keys from underneath the counter.

"Christ's sake, I didn't say a damn thing to the broad!"

"That's not the point." You sighed, shaking your head as you spoke, fingers blindly fumbling with your keyring as you neared the front entrance. "Not the point at all, and you know it."

Once your fingers had found the key to the front door, you hastened your pace, not necessarily wishing to have an argument with Dallas in the middle of the night. Dallas, however, absolutely seemed up to the challenge. He stood behind you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, a heavy scowl on his face as he watched you lock the place up.

"Explain it to me then." He whispered, and for a second you believed him to be apologetic. "'Cause this attitude, it ain't helpin' your cause."

And then he ruined it.

You swirled on your heel, months of pushed-aside irritation bubbling to the surface. You weren't one for confrontation, never had been, it was a sore point for you. You quickly pocketed your keys, hands gripping the middle of your jacket, tugging it snug around your middle.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" You asked. "You could've shooed her away, told her you were with someone. And yet, you- you entertain it."

The words would've rung home for anyone willing to listen, but Dallas, with his stubborn ways, only cocked his head to the side and gave you a lopsided grin.

"I'm not interested in other women." He responded, taking a step closer to you. "I can't help who talks to me, doll. I ain't entertaining anything, you know that."

Did you? Maybe, but in your jealousy-fueled haze, you refused to admit your part in the misunderstanding. He lifted his right hand from his pocket, placing it against your upper arm, thumb gently rubbing along the fabric of your jacket.

"Do you worry about me?" He asked with a duck of his head, trying to center your attention back on him. "Worry about me talkin' to other girls?"

You nodded, and instead of snickering, he pulled you forward. You thudded against his chest, the sudden move knocking a bit of wind from your lungs. His arms wrapped around you as he laughed out an apology, the sound soft, the words genuine.

"Still an asshole." You murmured, resting your cheek on his chest as your hands grasped onto the back of his jacket. You felt him nod, chin atop your head, his hands smoothing up your back.

"I know." He replied. "At least let me drive you home, alright? Even if you're pissed."

"Not pissed." You assured, leaning back from the embrace to meet his gaze. "Might have overreacted."

Dallas clicked his tongue against his teeth, eyebrows screwing together as he nodded his head back. "No," he chuckled. "I would've done the same if some guy talked to you."

The thought made you smile, not that you hadn't seen Dallas's protective side flair. You were both territorial over each other, and there was nothing necessarily wrong with that as long as the feelings were reciprocated - which they were in their entirety.

"Ever notice how empty this lot is at night?" He commented, snapping you from your mind with a gentle squeeze of your hip. "Hardly any cars pass by, somethin' I noticed after a few nights sittin' by the counter."

Dallas hadn't been wrong, not in the slightest. In truth, you would've been surprised if you'd caught anyone lingering in the parking lot after closing. Your town wasn't quiet by any means, but the diner had been built around, years of infrastructure hiding it amidst a cluster of run-down businesses.

With a hum, you leaned into his side. "Guess you're right." You replied, tilting your head back to give him a squinty-eyed smile, on account of the nearby flickering lot light.

"Could make you feel better." He whispered. "On account of earlier, or whatever."

You snickered, rolling your eyes at his blatant suggestion, yet for all its crudeness, you couldn't deny the stir you felt in your lower stomach.

"You're filthy." You chided, nudging his side with your elbow.

Dallas huffed out a laugh, his arm looping around your back. "C'mon," he urged as he began walking, leading you toward his car. "Ain't wasting the opportunity to make you feel better."

Mere moments had passed before you were both clamoring into the back of the Thunderbird, limbs bumping into limbs, soft laughter echoing inside the vehicle as Dallas reached over your middle to pull the door shut. As soon as the door had shut, your lips were on his, your hands blindly fumbling with the front of his jeans.

You'd just gotten the button undone when his hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them back as he pulled away from your kiss. You were left pouting, the sight adorable and pitiful enough to pull a laugh from Dallas as he set your hands down in your lap.

"This is for you, not me. Let me make you feel good."

Dallas focusing his sole attention on you? On pleasing you, no less? How could you refuse? Elated laughter bubbled in your chest as his hands slid up and underneath your skirt, the fabric bunching up around your hips. You helped him with a gentle lift of your hips, allowing him to hook his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, before slinking the fabric down your legs.

"You're going to cum on my tongue." He stated, tone full of nonchalance as he tossed your underwear toward the front of the car. "And, I want you over me when you do."

"You want me to sit on your face?" You asked, lips quirking up into a smile as you bit back laughter, truly believing he was joking. "Is that what you're asking me?"

Dallas only nodded, and only then did the realization of his request register in your mind. Heat prickled at the nape of your neck, spreading forward until it encompassed your chest in a deep blush. Sensing your nerves, Dallas's thumbs rubbed gentle circles above your hip bones, his head ducking down to meet your avoidant gaze.

"Hey," he whispered. "Ain't nothin' I haven't seen before. It'll feel good, doll, promise."

So, you allowed him to help you into a position that didn't have both of you groaning in discomfort. Maneuvering into a position where you straddled his shoulders, in the back of an already narrow car, wasn't exactly the easiest to accomplish. Somehow, you both managed, mostly thanks to Dallas's hands keeping you steady as you moved over him.

The chill of his silver rings bit into your thighs, keeping you sunk in the present, hovered over him as he looked up at you from below. There was nothing other than pure, unadulterated lust pouring from his eyes, pupils blown so heavily there was only a crescent of color visible. His fingers tapped, once and then again, a nonverbal request for you to lower yourself.

So you did.

He met you halfway, tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, delving between your folds to collect your essence against his tastebuds. He wanted to savor you, that much was readily apparent by his hardened grasp on your thighs, all but cementing you atop his face. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as a plethora of broken-off moans tumbled past your lips.

You begged for him, murmuring his name between praises lost on your ears, but not his. Each word, no matter how garbled by pleasure, left his hips rutting up into the air as he circled his tongue around your clit. Your hips moved in synchrony with his tongue, adjacent swirls, and he let you. He had always favored dominance, being in control of the situation, but having you atop him had him praising every divine figure he could conjure in his lust-riddled mind.

“Dallas-“ You crooned, the noise so sweet it pulled a moan from his chest, the vibration left directly against your aching cunt. You smiled, a mixture of a laugh and moan leaving you as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “So good, Dal.”

With an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, he pulled away. It was for a fraction of a second, needed to slip his right hand between your thighs, but you were left whining and pouting. He tutted from between your thighs, lips, and chin glistening with your cum.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispered as his middle and ring fingers pushed inside of you, delicately curling to brush against a spot that had your thighs clamping down around him. “It'll feel good, I promise.”

His left hand squeezed your hip, guiding you just as he would if you were riding him. You unconsciously followed his guidance, sliding down onto his fingers, before raising yourself, only to repeat the motion over, and over. Lewd squelches sounded from between your thighs, your cunt dripping a mixture of cum and saliva down onto his palm.

“See?” He asked through a breathy laugh, quickly resuming his position between your thighs. “Told ‘ya I’d make you feel better.”

You wanted to berate him for his cockiness, you truly did, but the feeling of his lips encircling your clit left you breathless. If anything, any ridicule would’ve turned into a garbled mess of his name.

A groan of a laugh reverberated in Dallas’s chest, yet he never pulled away. His tongue lapped at your clit, intervals of swirls and sucks following each grunt he managed to sound out. The sounds were carnal, stoking the steadily building flame in your lower stomach. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, pulling him closer, yourself closer. In truth, you weren’t sure if he could breathe, but neither of you moved from where you were.

“That’s it, doll.” He rasped, words hardly audible, muffled from your cunt. You managed a sighed moan in response, your hips rolling, sliding your cunt against his tongue. His fingers thrusted into you, mimicking the tempo of his eager tongue, each lap and circle of the muscle pushing you closer to the edge.

The uptake of an octave, your head rolling back as your eyes squeezed shut; Dallas knew each instinctual move of your body by heart. His eyes stayed locked on you, memorizing the sight of you coming undone above him, riding his face like a woman starved. His free hand lifted from your hip, curving around the plush of your ass, knowing he needed a tight hold on you to keep you steady.

“Dal-“

There it was, the familiar beckon of his name. His cock strained against the confines of his boxers, tip leaking precum, smearing against the now dampened fabric. His thighs tensed as his hips rolled, desperately seeking some form of reprieve as your cunt twitched around his fingers. Instead of verbalizing his reply, he squeezed the swell of your ass, wordlessly urging you to cum.

White-hot pleasure seared your veins, unconsciously twitching your limbs, tightening your hold on his hair. Your cunt spasmed, clit throbbing against his circling tongue. You cursed under your breath, eyes squeezed shut, mind solely focused on the ecstasy overtaking your body. Dallas grounded you with slow brushes of his hand along your thigh, fingers still inside of you, lips placing gentle kisses on your oversensitive clit.

“Alright?” He asked, tone rough enough to pull a surprised laugh from you. You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair.

“More than alright.” You replied. “Way more.”

Instead of hovering over his face for another second with wobbly legs, you moved yourself back, giving Dallas enough time to situate himself upright. His hands found your hips quickly after, gently guiding you back to his lap.

In an almost instinctive move, you lowered yourself to place your lips on his. His hands slid around your back, fingers absentmindedly grabbing at the fabric of your uniform as his lips moved with yours.

You braced yourself against the rear windshield, the slick condensation gathering in the palm of your hands, smearing your fingerprints down the pane as your lips moved against his. If anyone had passed by, anyone at all, they would've gathered what you both had gotten up to.

Neither of you could bring yourself to care, not when Dallas slipped his hands underneath the back of your shirt, his fingernails scraping along the curve of your back to have you closer as he sucked your tongue.

Your lips curved into a smile at the move, the lucrative, nearly addictive slide of his tongue against your own. He knew you, knew your body and how to make it tick. Your hips rocked against his lap, causing his already hard cock to twitch and pulse against the confines of his jeans.

"You're still hard," you rasped into the kiss, "I can make you feel good, too."

He groaned, his eyebrows knitting together as his hips bucked up into you. You bit at your bottom lip as you moved your hands from the rear windshield, letting your now cool skin slide down his front, keeping your eyes locked with his as you unzipped his jeans.

His lips parted in a silent moan as your hand slipped underneath the hem of his boxers, your fingers curling around the thick base of his cock. You could feel each twitch of his cock beneath your palm, the skin slick and warm, coated in his precum. You slid your hand up, leisurely pumping him, the act enough to have him grunting out your name.

You savored each lecherous moan that fell from his lips. With a shift of your hips, you centered yourself over his thigh, rolling your hips down in tandem with each stroke of his cock. You knew you were dampening the denim, soiling it, yet all you saw reflected in Dallas's eyes was the same debauchery you held heavy in your mind.

“Fuck me.” You begged, tired of the hassle, of denying yourself the most innate of pleasures. He relented with a lift of your body, allowing his hard cock to slide along your folds, catching against you. You watched as he lowered you onto him, his cock sliding into you deliciously slow.

Thin, red lines followed his nails as they dragged up the skin of your thighs, coming to a halt at your hips where he steadied you. You could feel his cock pulse inside of you, twitching just before your cervix. You watched him with bated breath, allowing him to guide each movement of your hips, and he did so with precision.

"So tight," he murmured, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of pure lust and concentration, as though the mere sight of you atop him would undo him if he gave into it. "So fuckin' good."

All you could muster was a moan in response, your hips rolling forward, each forward motion brushing your clit against his lower stomach. Your thighs strained, muscles burning, yet you paid them no mind in favor of the persistent push of Dallas's cock, the way his tip brushed against your g-spot with each shift of his hips.

His eyes flitted, sight torn between your breasts and the needy, desperate look in your eyes. He shifted beneath you, planting his feet against the floorboard, giving himself enough stability to thrust upward, pushing himself deeper than before.

The shift in position forced the air from your lungs, a pitiful, broken-off mess of a moan passing your parted lips as you grasped his shoulders. He whispered something to you, but whatever it was had been lost on your muddled mind in favor of the budding feeling of ecstasy coiling in your lower stomach.

"Dallas-" You whined, the urgency in your call not lost on him. He nodded, wetting his lips as he rolled his hips upward. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, smearing along your skin as well as his, coating his lower stomach in your cum.

"That's it, doll." He whispered, his left hand moving between your thighs to circle his thumb around your clit, rhythm syncing with each pump of his hips. "C'mon, cum for me."

Ecstasy coiled tight in your stomach, and with each swirl of his thumb and pump of his cock, you felt it twist tighter and tighter. Your hands moved from his shoulders, fingers threading through the back of his hair where you pulled. His mouth fell open, eyebrows lifting as an expression of shock-induced euphoria crossed his face.

So, you pulled harder, the harshness of your hold mirrored in the desperate way you fucked yourself on his cock, movements so frenzied you felt your muscles burning beneath your skin.

A deep, almost sinful moan rumbled in his chest. You swallowed it with a kiss to his lips, hands moving to his jaw as your tongue moved with his. His thumb was slick against your clit, and with a gasp of his name, your cunt spasmed around his cock.

"Fuck, that's it." He groaned, words strained as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. "Let it out, doll."

Your lips moved from his, kisses trailing down his cheek, onto his jaw, before you settled your cheek to his shoulder, simply choosing to give yourself over to the onslaught of pleasure Dallas had you wrapped up in. Dallas's hold on your hip tightened as his head fell back, his eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched as his cock twitched inside of you, each pulse filling you with his cum.

You both shared the blissful silence that came afterward, the only noises being the occasional breath and whispered praise, the brush of his hands against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, words muffled by the press of his lips against your throat. "I'm sorry."

Apologies weren't common with Dallas. To his benefit, he hadn't done much to call for one, but this - this you appreciated. You nodded, leaning into his touch, his lips, with a thread of your fingers through his hair. He continued murmuring into your skin, you drank in each word, heart slowing in your chest, calming with the promises he spoke only to you.

His hand moved from your hip, thumb, and forefinger resting against your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed together, skin coated in a thin veneer of sweat. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, yet his eyes never left yours.

"You're my girl." He whispered, and you nodded. "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

You placed a kiss on the pad of his thumb, the sincerity in his words causing you to smile. He smiled in return, fingers splaying against your cheek where he held you gently.

"It won't happen again, alright?"

His words were soft, the sentiment mirrored in his eyes. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He met your embrace with one of his own, wrapping his arms around the small of your back, hands gently caressing between your shoulder blades.

"Good apology, been workin' on it for a while?" You joked, placing a kiss on his jaw with a soft bout of laughter. You felt him laugh, the vibration of his chest against yours.

"Nope." He admitted, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. "You're worth a genuine apology."

"Sap." You teased, but your tone gave way to your true feelings, how much you appreciated his honesty, his words. He caught on, but never made it known, instead choosing to reply with another kiss to your skin.

"Yeah, guess I am."

A/N: Siri, play "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley, please! No, but seriously, I finished this piece with that song on repeat. Alas, I am not dead! I won't lie, I've suffered with pretty damn bad writers block. Somehow, I finished this. I hope you all like it! Thank you for your continuous support of me and my work, I value you all more than I could ever put into words! I hope this piece makes up for my time gone, see it as an early Valentine's gift!

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kaybreezy3000 · 27 days

Text

A steaming hot and humorous deli Five story, and An Ode To All The Fives We’ve Loved Before.

Written by: @badkitty3000 and @kaybreezy3000

(Rated Mature for Sexually Explicit Content, 6976 words)

Note: All six reader inserts in this one were inspired by characters we wrote in our other stories about Five. But if you haven't read any of these stories, you can still easily enjoy this one. If you find that you want a little more of Five and any one of these lovelies, links will be provided at the end.

Heading across the subway platform towards the deli, Five heard the shrill squeal of a train coming into the station. Thinking it was going to be another version of himself showing up, he slowed his step, letting out a tired sigh. “Here we go again.”

Even before the train was fully stopped, he realized this wasn’t going to be one of his normally depressing encounters. There were six females inside one of the cars, all of them anxiously looking back at him standing under the warmth of the delicatessen's incandescent lights.

He was dumbstruck. There had never been anyone else besides himself on a train before.

His breath caught as the doors began to slide open.

“No way…” he gasped, looking at the girl in front who had a baseball bat slung over her shoulders, her body poised for a fight.

“Five!” she shrieked as she pushed the doors open, kicking one of them aside faster with the heel of one of her checkered patterned boots. Dashing towards him, her wooden bat fell to the ground with a resounding thunk as she threw herself into his waiting arms.

Just then, a loud bark echoed through the subway. Bursting out from between the other girls’ legs, a golden-haired dog bee-lined it for the door of the deli, just as another stunned Five threw it open. A fraction of a second later, that Five was stumbling backwards, getting knocked down by the wild beast. “I missed you too, buddy,” he laughed through his tears as his furry friend affectionately slobbered him.

Next to them, pink and blue pigtails swayed as the first Five lifted the girl in his arms, kissing her anywhere he could plant his lips. Loving it, her smile got bigger and bigger the more frantic he got, and she started giggling even more about it when she looked down at the pair on the ground. “I guess it was easy enough for Mr. Pennycrumb to figure out which one of you was his master. Just look at him…he’s so happy he and his daddy finally get to go home.”

“Home?” the deli’s Greeter Five questioned, sounding heartbreakingly confused as the rest of the girls on the train came past, worriedly making their way towards the welcoming lights of the restaurant, all of them hoping their Fives were there too.

Inside, Five was behind the counter, doing his usual inventory of ingredients for his famous pastrami sandwich when he looked up to see the most beautiful sight he’d seen in a very long time. He could hardly believe his eyes and it took him a few seconds to realize she was real.

Skidding around the corner from the kitchen while trying to hide the tears in his eyes, he grabbed his wife around her waist, reeling her in. With hands on each side of her face, he kissed her so desperately that he forgot to breathe. Finally, he pulled away, smiling lovingly as she started to cry.

“I can’t believe it’s really you. I’ve missed you so much, my love,” he choked out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “What are you doing here? When I ended up here, I thought I’d lost you and our entire world because our timeline was destroyed.”

“I missed you, too,” she breathlessly replied. “Things were a little all over the place with the timeline problem thing, but it’s okay now. We’re here to bring you home. I didn’t know there was an entire restaurant filled with you when I set out, but the girls and I ended up on the train together and it quickly became clear we were all in the same boat, and all of you were too. As crazy as all that is, when we realized where you all ended up, it was still a little surprising to say the least.”

“How did you even find this place? The odds of coming across it are astronomical.”

His wife rolled her eyes. “Really, Five? There’s like twenty of you here and not one of you can read a goddamn map? Together, the girls and I figured it out in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh…” Five muttered.

She smiled and kissed his pouty face, pushing his dark hair off his forehead. “Well, it’s a good thing for you, and all these other boys, that before you got stuck here, you stole the hearts of the smartest, most badass women around because we’re here to save all your asses.” She looked around at all the Fives that looked like they were either about to have a breakdown or were in the middle of one. “And just in the knick of time, it seems,” she added.

While being devoured by the Five that had been previously pouring coffee, his girlfriend stopped him mid-kiss to say, “Hold on… you guys are stuck here because you don’t know how to read a map?”

“We know how to read maps,” her Five scoffed back. “We just don’t know how to read this particular map.”

With his head down as he rounded the corner from the kitchen, another Five came in carrying a bin of clean dishes. Irritated that nobody was helping him he said, “You don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground, Waiter Five, and hey Brisket, you may be a worthless genius like the rest of us, but you’re letting the sandwiches burn!”

“I don’t give a fuck about the sandwiches, you moron,” Brisket Five snapped back.

Brisket’s wife quirked a brow. “Brisket?” she questioned, letting his strange nickname roll off her tongue with seductive playfulness, only then just realizing her husband was wearing a chef’s apron.

“Are you surprised? You know I’m the king of the kitchen,” he said, giving her a cocky smirk.

Hearing the allure of the feminine voice questioning Brisket Five, the distracted bus-boy finally looked up, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“HOLY SHIT!” he gasped as the tub of plates in his hands hit the floor. Moving almost as fast as if he’d blinked, he leapt over the booth between him and the luminously pale girl that was grinning at him with two shiny tips of sharp white studding into her lower lip.

“Hey there, you little horny devil,” the cheeky looking vampire girl snickered as he slid up to her, his boyish mess of dark hair all over the place as his entire body shook like a leaf with excitement. “Five, sweetie, there’s so many of you here…”

Looking over at the lonely looking Five in the corner booth with his mannequin, the vampire’s fang descended a little more.

“Awww,” she cooed as she looked back at her own Five. “He’s so cute. He’s just like you were. Can I maybe have a little nibble on him, honey?”

“Hell no. I am the only abomination you get to suck on,” Bus-Boy Five dreamily replied, his soft green eyes luring her right back.

Interrupting their reunions, and their conversation about the map, the bathroom door flung open, and another Five carrying a mop came out, immediately directing his shock at the girl the Waiter Five was once again doing his best to suffocate with kisses. “Hey!” he yelled. “Are you that chick who used to fuck Klaus?

Tossing his mop in the supply closet, the Janitor Five moved in closer, plopping his butt down on the tabletop next to a Five who was sitting there, contemplatively shuffling a deck of cards as he watched the bizarre scene unfolding.

At the mention of Klaus, Waiter Five gave his girl one more peck, then a sly grin as he said, “Those guys don’t know the whole story. All they need to know is that the Hargreeves with the best dick won. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

The girl that ironically used to own a coffee house shook her head at her now-waiter boyfriend as she stretched up, planting a big kiss on his lips. “You could say that. Or, more accurately, I won. I’ve been missing a lot of things about you, including your dick,” she teased while pulling him by the belt loops until their hips were flush.

A few feet away, a shapely woman with jet-black hair slid into a booth. The bells on her red headband rung cheerfully as her bottom bounced on the vinyl seat. The familiar sound made the slumped down man that was sitting there lift his head.

“Oh, Five…what did you do?” she soothed as she snuggled up next to him while placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

He looked over, eyeing her up and down with a foggy expression before the light suddenly went on. His face immediately relaxed with relief. “Oh my god…it’s you! How are you here? Fuck. Did I die and go to heaven?”

She shook her head, the same chipper smile on her face, just like always. Leaning in to give him a tender kiss, Drunk Five’s angelic girlfriend placed a warm hand on his thigh. “I will explain all of that later. Right now I think we need to get you sobered up.”

Her Five nodded slowly, his eyes becoming misty. “I’m sorry, I went a little crazy with the booze again,” he admitted, gesturing to the bottle on the table. “I’ve been a mess since I lost you.” His gaze drifted downward to her low-cut top and the perfect tits that were spilling out. “Damn, I missed you.”

Leaning in, his lips tickling the shell of his girlfriend’s ear, Waiter Five whispered, “I’m not sure how fucked-up Drunk Five got a nice girl like that.”

Looping her arms around his waist she smiled. “Because she’s an actual angel,” she replied. “Like from heaven. They had a real life Christmas Carol situation and that’s what helped him finally get his shit together.”

“Huh,” Waiter Five hummed before he started kissing her again, already not caring about the other alcoholic version of him’s issues.

As Greeter Five came inside, joining the group, one of the Fives nearest the door swooped in, taking the hand of the girl next to him, gently kissing it.

Instantly overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture, as well as the sight of all the other Fives, she turned to her Five, mouth agape. “Wow… I thought you had some kinky things going on inside your brain, but compared to you…” She started to crack-up. “He was just thinking about eating pastrami off my ass!”

Looking beyond flustered by her calling him out, the other Five quickly backed away, stammering, “Wh-what is she, a mind reader?”

Positioning himself in front of her, Greeter Five’s already menacing expression turned even more threatening. “Yeah, dumbass, she is and she can alter your emotions, so I’d watch out if I were you or you might find yourself falling in love with a jar of sauerkraut. And you won't be eating pastrami or anything else off her ass as long as I’m here, so fuck off unless you’d like an acid burned dick and that spatula over there shoved up your ass.”

“You know that’s not how my powers work,” the petite blonde corrected as her hands slid around the Greeter Five’s trim waist. Clearly already aware of that, and enjoying her magical touch way too much, his grin grew and he started to lower his mouth to hers again.

Seeing that he was out of his element, and not about to win this one, the food fetish Five bolted out the door, prompting Janitor Five to stroll over, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “Since you are the biggest nut job in here, it makes sense you’d be dating a sexy Harley Quinn look alike,” he said, distracting the couple.

“I mean no offense, sweetheart,” Janitor Five continued while suggestively wiggling his eyebrows at Greeter Five’s girl.

She smiled.

“I think you’re hot,” he added as his cool green eyes sparkled triumphantly. “Just so you know, I am way less of a headcase than him, and I am not at all scared of letting you play around inside my head, or my pants.”

“Fuck you!” Greeter Five growled.“Keep your grimy toilet cleaning hands off of her, shithead! She’s my wife!”

“Woah, settle down there, ‘Mr. I started The Commission But Got Downgraded To The Doorman At A Deli.’ I am just trying to point out that I am a much lesser dipshit than you, and let the lady here know that you are not her only option when it comes to better Fives.”

“For fucks sake! We all know that I am the best Five in here!” Greeter Five loudly yelled back, as he lunged at him.

Catching her husband by the coat tails, the comic book character look alike’s fingers brushed against his lower back. The fight almost instantly forgotten, Greeter Five turned and lowered his forehead to hers, and within seconds, she had his mind and body coming back down to a much less murderous state of arousal, but it was already too late. That arrogant outburst started all the other Fives bickering and glaring at each other, sizing each other up even though they were all the exact same size.

No longer involved in the hostilities because he was caught in his wife’s euphoric spell, Greeter Five scooped her up, pinning her against the window next to the entryway.

“I wish I could kill all these pathetic bastards,” he breathed as he nuzzled his face against the crook of her neck.

“No you don’t. You’re a good man, Five,” she corrected.

Happily mind fucked and once again paying no attention to anything else other than the piece of ass he had in his hands, Greeter Five crushed his lips against his wife’s, inadvertently sliding her back along the window glass until they rammed into another three-peice suit wearing Five that had been standing near the door since his girlfriend had come in and claimed him.

That Five had been basking in the pleasure of having his shaggy hair played with while the woman in front of him teased her hands down the front of his pants. Not happy with the Greeter Five for interrupting them, he angrily moved away from him, barking, “Get a room, asshole!”

Greeter Five snickered. “Why?” he questioned through the fringe of his hair as he grinned at the other Five. “I don’t care if you fuckers watch.”

Ready to own that, he shamelessly started rutting the prominent bulge in his pants into his giggling telepath.

Seeing and hearing all this madness, Brisket Five’s wife started to get a wild gleam in her eye as a million kinky thoughts about the vast number of identical, sexy men in the room filled her with naughty ideas.

Not nearly as fazed by all the bullshit happening around him, Brisket Five took her chin in his hand, guiding her face back to his until she was looking up at his piercing green eyes that could read her like an open book. With a subtle shake of his head, he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t fucking think so, darling,” he said, his voice low with warning.

She batted her lashes at him innocently. “What are you going to do about it, Daddy?”

At the mention of his dirty, yet fitting nickname, the other women perked up, dodging their own Five’s kisses and disappointed faces as they shared amused glances with one another.

Still getting publicly dry humped, only now over on the table edge in front of a Five that was still trying to sit there and do his crossword, Greeter Five’s girl chirped, “That’s amazing! So it’s not just my Five that likes the daddy thing!”

None of the Fives needed to say it. Their intense glares directed at each other said it loud and clear for all of them.

I’M THE ONLY DADDY HERE!

“That’s it. We’re going to settle who is the ruler of this deli once and for all!” Greeter announced, right before sliding his girl’s booty shorts towards him so he could push her backside down on the table.

“Sounds like you want to put your money where your mouth is,” taunted Cards Five as he continued to nonchalantly shuffle through his deck.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” the Greeter confirmed, ripping the red and blue shorts down his woman’s legs as he licked his lips and lowered like he was about to dive face first into her pussy-which he was.

“Oh, you are on! Get ready to lose, assholes,” yelled Waiter Five as he picked his girl up with her legs wrapping around his waist.

As there were more grumbles and boastful claims coming from the Fives, the girls glanced around at the roomful of horny, angry men they had on their hands. Brisket Five’s and Greeter Five’s wives took one look at each other and knew exactly what the other was thinking.

“Alright, ladies,” Brisket’s wife called out. “We can’t bring these horny old bastards home in the state they’re in. I think we should let them have their fun with us and then we can get out of here safely. Sound good?”

The women all nodded in agreement and just as fast they started to get pawed at even more aggressively.

Having witnessed all of this, the most aloof looking Five who had been sitting in the corner booth, lifted his glass, clinking it with the one sitting in front of his beloved mannequin. “I’m sorry, darling, you might want to shut your eyes.”

Openingly admiring the butt of the girl with the other Five that had been over by the door, Janitor Five asked, “How’d you get so lucky to hit an ass like that?”

Smirking, the Five in question leaned up against the wall next to the jukebox while pulling his lady away from the Janitor. “It’s a long story but it started when I became a pervert that was obsessed with spying on her while I jerked off. Then there was an accidental parking lot abduction incident, and after that, it just sort of happened.”

“You mean, first you tied me up, then I tied you up and set you straight,” she corrected, tugging his tie, which earned her a quiet whimper.

“Oh, so you're into perverted creeps?” Janitor Five said, trying to get a rise out of her Five but he got nothing out of either of them other than more of her hands going down her perverted boyfriend’s pants.

Seeing again that he was going to be left high and dry, the Janitor Five moved on, selecting a perfect song from the jukebox next to them for the fuck-fest that was about to commence. He then turned to Drunk Five who was still in his booth and sneered. “You might as well count yourself out, dickhead. You won't even be able to get it up.”

With an indignant snort, Drunk Five pulled his cheery angel onto his lap, running his hands up and down her bare thighs as she ground down on his rapidly hardening crotch.

“What do you think, honey?” he rasped. “Is he right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, actually,” she laughed, leaning in for a deep kiss.

Cards Five, not at all interested in the sex part of all this, saw his opportunity elsewhere. He turned to the Janitor Five giving him a slanted smile.

“We’re going to make a killing,” he said before hopping up on one of the unoccupied tables with the deli already becoming rowdier from all the couples in various compromising positions and locations around him.

“Listen up, shit heads! Here’s the rules!” Cards Five called out. “The Five who can get their lady off the most times in five minutes wins and will be declared the official BEST FIVE! And…no helping your guys by touching yourselves ladies, or you’re out.”

“Awww,” Janitor Five huffed.

Ignoring his disappointment, Cards Five gestured for him to start collecting the bets, then he pulled his sleeve up and set his stopwatch.

Holding his arm out to show the other Fives, he received the desired nods of approval from all.

Not needing any more encouragement to begin, as soon as Cards Five yelled out ‘go’, every Five who had the option started getting to work, determined to win his very important title.

Amid a flurry of coat jackets being hurriedly shrugged off and ties being thrown through the air, their perfect song selection cued up.

As the first few staccato notes of “Eye of the Tiger” filled the room, there was a chorus of enthusiastic cheers from the over-sexed men.

The competition had officially begun.

With his vampire girlfriend at his side, Bus-Boy Five took off with her towards the bathroom, entering the small tiled room on the heels of the Pervert Five and his pretty dominator. Shoving him into the wall, the small but assertive female directed her man to drop his pants. Already looking so excited that he might explode, he didn’t argue. His pants fell around his ankles, the metal of his belt clanking against the floor as she yanked his underwear down, letting his length spring free.

With her shirt getting ripped open and the tiny pearl buttons tinkering across the counter, the vampire sank her fangs into her Five, moaning as he hungrily nipped his teeth across her porcelain neck.

Catching the door before it swung closed on them, Janitor Five propped it open, yelling, “There’s no room for modesty here, boys! You better give us a good show in there!”

Over in their booth, doing just that, Drunk Five was already getting the full religious experience with his personal angel.

Straddling his lap, she quickly unbuckled his pants and shoved her hand inside, grabbing hold of his hardened cock. “Even though you fell off the wagon, you know I’ll always let you plow my field,” the angel quipped with a smile.

He pulled her in for a rough kiss, a hand on the back of her neck as she pumped her fist. “Enough of your bad jokes, sweetheart, right now I need you to ride my dick,” he murmured before groaning loudly, “Let’s show these assholes what we can do.”

“You got it, baby,” she purred next to his ear as she pushed her panties aside and sunk herself onto his waiting dick.

With her tits bouncing in front of his face, and her hot sleeve moving fast over his cock, Drunk Five was in a Heaven made just for him. Clutching his shoulders, the angel threw her head back as his heels dug into the floor and he pounded up into her, her broken cries proving he was still a contender.

Simultaneously, on the other side of the deli, Brisket Five was not-so-gently squeezing his wife’s tight, round ass as he aggressively sucked at her neck.

“Five,” she breathed out desperately as she clawed at the back of his shirt after having flung his chef’s apron on the floor. She took a quick peek over his shoulder, scouting the room. “I think we’re out of fuckable places.”

Pulling back with a mischievous grin that always lit a fire in his wife’s pants, Five shook his head. “Not necessarily.”

She let out a short laugh as she worked as fast as she could to get his shirt unbuttoned and pushed off his arms. Running her hands down his firm, bare chest she looked up at him. “You’re going to fuck me in a closet, aren’t you?”

As Brisket Five quickly hurried his wife along to his secret sex spot, Waiter Five brushed past, heading in the same direction.

“I’m calling the kitchen, dipshit, so don’t even bother,” he snarled at Brisket Five.

When he didn’t get the expected spiteful reply in response, Waiter Five stopped and turned. The chef version of himself was not actually trying to bone his woman in the kitchen. Instead, he was continuing in the direction of the supply closet.

“Where the fuck are you going? Scared your girl might see what she’s missing out on?” Waiter jeered, even as his girlfriend was pulling her legs tighter around his waist, rubbing against his hard crotch. His hands gripped her ass harder as he pushed her against the doorway of the kitchen, jerking his hips against her until she let out a beautifully needy moan.

“Think again, dumbshit,” Brisket barked back before unceremoniously shoving his wife into the closet and slamming the door behind him.

“That guy is a total whack-job,” Waiter Five said to his girl before continuing inside, perching her on the food-prep counter.

“How about you focus less on him and more on fucking me,” she suggested, snaking her hand down the front of his pants as she rubbed the large package that was tenting there.

With a quiet grunt, he let his eyes fall shut, his expression one of total bliss as he grinned back at her. “Good idea.”

As she hastily began opening his fly, Five worked on yanking her pants down. Knowing his dirty-minded coffee girl inside and out, he shoved his hand between her legs, letting his long fingers work their magic.

“Daddy knows what you like, doesn’t he, sweetheart?” he seductively taunted.

At the first “Ffff-uuu…yesss” that she whimpered, he knew he had her right where he wanted, and he continued to finger her while she rocked her hips into his hand and pulled at the front of his shirt.

In the closet, Brisket’s wife was pushed roughly against a wall as he flattened her body, attacking her with bruising kisses. With his hands gripping her wrists, he shoved her arms over her head, pinning them to the wall as Janitor Five’s mop went clattering to the floor.

“Panties off. Now!” Five ordered in a harsh but quiet tone, knowing for a fact that this was a sure fire way to get her dripping wet.

Freeing her wrists, she did exactly what he said, dropping her shorts and underwear and kicking them off somewhere in the dim light of the closet. With the sound of his wife’s harsh breathing riling him up even more, Five anxiously unbuckled his pants and dropped them to the floor.

Lifting one of her legs, holding it up against his hip, he pressed his rock-hard cock between her legs, not entering her as his shaft rubbed against her wet slit.

As he continued to rut into her, faster and harder but not actually fucking her, he felt the satisfying shudder of her body against his. “That’s one, but I think we can do better than that, don’t you think, angel?” he teased.

Also about to witness a second orgasm, sitting over at his booth with Greeter Five licking and lapping his wife’s clit as his fingers squelched in and out of her quivering cunt, Crossword Five lowered a hand under the table, discreetly palming the tightly stretched fabric covering his crotch.

With his fingers thrusting and wife gasping, her body bucking on the table in front of them, Greeter Five looked up, his face proudly shining as he glanced at their booth buddy. “Might as well whip it out and go for it, you dirty bastard. She likes to watch.”

At the sound and sight of Crossword Five’s fly zipping down, the woman on the table between the two shameless men cried out, “Oh, Fivvvvve. Fucck, yes! I love you!”

“That’s right, say it louder, beautiful. Let these assholes get a taste of what they are missing!” her husband growled, right before grinding his face between her legs again.

In the corner booth, not at all impressed, the Five sitting with Dolores picked up his empty margarita, eyeing it like it had personally offended him. “I’m not like that, am I?” he questioned, to which the mannequin next to him held her Mona Lisa smile, but only until he looked over and cutely smirked. “Oh. You’re right. I am like that,” Five chuckled, clearly stewed.

In the bathroom two minutes earlier, the Pervert Five’s head fell back with a bang against the wall the moment his girlfriend’s lips began to circle around the dripping tip of his waiting erection.

A few feet away, flipping around his vampire, Bus-Boy Five was about to do some sucking of a totally different kind as he lined himself up to the smooth white ass waiting for him to destroy it. Fisting the length of the vamp’s hair as the tip of his cock prodded the coolness of her slippery folds, his words came out ominously dark. “You’re all I’ll ever want. This time I want forever.”

“Then take it,” his vampire moaned as Five’s lips began to move along the exposed side of her milky throat. Looking like a man whose soul needed saving, using a hand to guide the thickened head of his cock where he needed it, penetrating all her senses at once, his blunted teeth slowly began to sink in.

A guttural moan reverberated from Five’s chest as his mouth filled with the salvation of her bittersweet taste.

Mouth agape, her fingers clenching the edge of the countertop as Five’s tongue moved over her broken skin, the vampire’s body, shaking with lust, jerked back, forcing him to bottom out.

“So-so fucking tight,” he deliriously groaned, just before thrusting his dick inside her again with much more supernatural vigor.

Looking up as he fucked, his chocolate locks hanging in his eyes and his lip still bleeding from one of her love bites, Five grinned at his reflection in the mirror, the wicked gleam in his eyes matching the sinful glow in hers lovinginly looking back at him.

Not to be out done by the debauchery happening next to them, the other Five helplessly gasped a string of profanities as he clenched his hand on the back of his girlfriend’s head so he could better slam his dick down her throat.

Interrupting the gagging and sniffling, whines and animalistic grunts and growls streaming out of the bathroom, pointing at the violent blow job in progress, Janitor Five barked out, “Disqualified! You’re supposed to be getting her off, not the other way around, you selfish dumbass!”

Coming fully undone, unloading in her mouth with his hips twitching even more spastically with each new wave of ecstasy, dumbass Five hissed and moaned, “Fuuu-aaaahh- This feels so ff- Mmfff- I don’t fff-ucking care.”

As Waiter Five’s girlfriend was coming down from her finger-fuck climax in the kitchen, he was already preparing for the next round. Stroking his leaking cock, he positioned his swollen tip at her soaking wet opening. As he slammed into her, her head fell back, knocking against the metal pots and pans that were hanging behind them. Each clatter of metal was accompanied by a loud moan as Waiter Five used all of his strength to give his girl the fuck of her life.

Alerted by all the noise, Janitor Five poked his head through the kitchen’s service window. “Hey, you better not drip any jizz on that floor, I just mopped it.”

Not slowing down for even a second while he continued to rail his girl as hard as possible, Waiter Five glanced over his shoulder at the dickhead in the doorway. “Says the guy that cums in the coleslaw.”

Smiling and mouthing ‘True’ to the girl being nailed where their food was prepared, Janitor Five witnessed a second Waiter-delivered orgasm. It was followed a few seconds later by a loud groan and some cursing as his counterpart came hard inside of her, the clanging of the pots and pans slowly quieting as his body stilled.

Back in the closet, Brisket Five’s wife clung to the rattling supply shelves as his hips slapped against her ass and his dick slammed inside her from behind. Sweating and out of breath, expertly maneuvering his fingers on her clit, she started coming hard.

“Fuck, Fiiive!!” she screamed as she bucked her ass backward and rolls of toilet paper rained down on them.

“That’s two,” he panted heavily as she tried to regain her composure enough to stand on her wobbly legs. “One more, darling?”

Grinning widely, pulling her flush with his chest, his cock still-hard, his wife nodded and smiled knowingly; just another confirmation that the two were meant for each other.

As he went in for a kiss, a hand tangled in her hair, she stumbled forward, causing Five to stagger backward into the door. The two came flying out of the supply closet with a giant crash as they fell into a mostly-naked heap onto the floor.

There was a very brief pause as everyone else in the deli looked in their direction, but they were quickly ignored as the other Fives got back down to business.

“One minute left, boys…let’s wrap it up!” yelled Cards Five.

Determined not to lose, Brisket Five pushed his wife onto her back and crawled on top, not giving a shit that they were laid out for the entire deli to see. Thrusting his cock back into her still-wet cunt, Five let out a long groan. Going at it hard as he held himself up on his forearms, he rammed into her at just the right angle. From there, his wife’s third orgasm came quickly, allowing him to fill her up with an impressive stream of cum.

Standing near the kitchen service window, Janitor Five slammed his palm down onto the order-up bell to signal the latest win. “Another one for Brisket!” he yelled. “That’s three!”

As Brisket Five and his wife laid on their backs, chests heaving, he grabbed a nearby discarded suit coat and threw it over her bottom half. With satisfied smiles, they lazily high-fived one another on a job well done.

Realizing he needed to do something fast, Greeter Five worked his hips overtime as his wife’s legs draped around the narrow of his waistcoat.

“Come on, come on, come on!” Janitor Five chanted along with him as he dangled over the booth, watching their Greeter going at it, his dick working like a piston engine.

In a frenzy, beating his meat hard, Crossword Five let out a broken moan.

Only taking his eyes off his prize long enough to see that Cards Five was counting down the final seconds on his fingers, Greeter Five frantically gasped, “Touch him, NOW!”

As the telepath’s hand fell into Crossword Five’s free hand, his face pinched in ecstasy and spatters of cum flung from his rapidly pumping fist, landing all over the tabletop.

To the backdrop of Janitor Five loudly singing, ‘Rising up to the challenge of our rivals,’ Greeter Five’s wife’s eyes began to roll back in her head and her body began to tighten and turn to mush all over again.

Looking like a madman, Greeter Five kept at it, thrusting his throbbing cock in and out of her trembling hole as he filled her with load after load of pent up seed.

“Yes! We got this in the bag!” Janitor Five exclaimed, obnoxiously clapping his hands together over the awe inspiring spectacle of the three exhibitionists simultaneously climaxing.

Turning back and forth between the two Fives who appeared to be at a tie, Cards Five held up his watch for his betting buddies to see. “It’s…TIME!” he shouted.

Either not hearing that it was over, or simply not caring, Bus-Boy Five and his vampire girlfriend burst out of the bathroom with him carrying her like she was his front backpack. Unnaturally floating past everyone, he kept at it, impaling her, his phantomlike showmanship making it abundantly clear he wasn’t going to stop and he didn’t give a damn who won the fuck competition.

Just then, the bell on the door chimed as Old Five walked in wearing his dapper gray suit and hat. “Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on in here!” he gasped in horror as the undead couple disappeared through the doorway behind him.

Kissing his wife languidly as his softening dick wetly slipped out of her, Greeter Five began to laugh. “Busted, beautiful. I saw that,” he said, taunting her as she dizzily eyed-up the older gentleman. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, still treasuring her with gentle brushes of his lips against her flushed cheeks.

“What?” she said as she grinned and pulled his pants around him, re-fastening his belt. “You give an amazing mustache ride. You can’t blame a girl for wanting to feel the tickle of your sexy old man whiskers for old time’s sake.”

The line between Greeter Five’s brows deepened with distaste as Old Five looked his half naked wife up and down, his mostly whitened brows going all the way to his hairline because he was so floored by what she just said.

Chuckling at Greeter Five’s sour expression, Janitor Five started to clear some of the scattered dishes on their table since their bus-boy was currently preoccupied doing vampire things. “Are you going to spank her for saying that, or do you want me to since you look a little spent?” he conversationally offered.

“No thank you. I’ll take care of it later,” Greeter Five politely chuckled as his wife pinched his butt.

As the rest of the Fives and their girls were still lounging around in various states of droopy eyed post coital bliss, twirling his wife’s panties on his index finger, Greeter Five smiled smugly. “As I said before all of this, I am, and always was, the winner here.”

Not having that, Brisket Five, helping his wife up off the floor, chimed in, “No. It’s a tie. Everyone heard my girl screaming for me at least three times. Twice in the closet and the last just now.”

Tensions rising again, arguing about how to divide the money, the betting Five’s started in on each other.

“Well, this has been interesting,” Old Five grumbled from where he was sitting in one of the back booths, his hat resting next to him as he sipped his coffee. “I can’t believe what a moron I used to be.”

Before picking up his book, the old man’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he gave Greeter Five’s wife a flirty wink. Getting one back, he reached over, dropping a quarter in the jukebox.

Missing the enamored look on his wife’s face this time since his focus was on his nemesis, Greeter Five said, “Whatever. See you later, loser.”

Brisket Five’s smarmy grin deepened. “You only hit three because you are a cheater, shit head.”

About to say something else ridiculous to the other him, a finger pressed against Greeter Five’s lips, shushing him. Her mind willing him to shut his trap, the seemingly harmless blonde began softly singing along with the jukebox and his eyes instantly glossed over.

Let ‘em say we're crazy, I don’t care about that…Put your hand in my hand baby, don’t ever look back…

“What a pussy,” Brisket Five laughed at the other him’s inability to see that he’d been silenced.

Sighing, his wife’s head moved back and forth in reprimand.

“What?” he questioned, as if he didn't already know.

Grinning like an idiot as the song that had so much meaning to him played, Greeter Five, having forgotten what he was going on about, allowed his clever wife to tow him towards the door like a puppy on a leash. Following their lead, the Five who still owed his girlfriend for her world-class BJ, and a much more sober Five and his angel, happily made their way out with Waiter Five and his coffee girl not far behind. Brisket and his wife brought up the rear, his arm draped over her shoulder.

As all of the couples made their way out of the deli, every one of the Fives was looking forward to finally getting back to the places where they had first learned what it meant to be truly loved.

Seeing that their only reliable cook was now leaving them, Janitor Five threw his hands in the air as he yelled out, “Hey, Brisket, what the fuck are we supposed to eat now?”

Turning around and seeing his signature apron lying on the floor, Brisket Five scooped it up. With a crooked grin, he flipped his hair out of his eyes and tossed it at the deli’s biggest asshole. “Why not try eating a dick?”

After the doors of the train closed, and the more fortunate Fives were on their way, Janitor looked over at Cards Five and shrugged as if considering that.

Turning to go back inside as he laughed, then began belting out, “AND…WE can build this dream TOGETHER, standing strong forever, NOTHINGS GONNA STOP US NOW! AND if this-”

As they heard the sound of another train coming into the station, he stopped.

With that unexpected surprise, not long later, all of the remaining Fives finally found their happiness, too.

Thank you all for reading this, and for all your support through our many, many crazy Five stories. ❤️

To read Kitty's origin stories for Brisket Five, Waiter Five, and Drunk Five either visit this master list or hit the A03 links below.

(Brisket) Halo Series

(Waiter Five) 'Love In The Time of Cholera and Coffee

(Drunk Five) It's a Wonderful Life, Five Hargreeves

To read Breezy's origin stories for Greeter Five, Vampy Five, and Pervert Five either hit my master list or the A03 links below:

(Greeter Five) Paramore (The Umbrella Academy) 3-part series

(Vampy Five) 'The Devil Within'

(Pervert Five) 'Bad Things'

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