#boyfriend velour

[strawberryya]

Santa baby

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

synopsis: Christmas is coming around, and you decide a new outfit is in its right place - for you and your boyfriend of course. Will he like the holiday themed outfits you have picked out enough to give you a couple needed gifts in return?

word count: 3.4k

genre/cw: SMUT, cosplaying Santa for devious purposes, idol au, establish relationship, softdom!san, sub!reader, a slight voice kink, use of sextoy, unprotected sex, cockwarming, oral sex - both recieving, borderline cumplay, soft aftercare.

rating: 18+

a/n: surpise @millennial-fangirl! I'm your cod secret Santa! I'm so sorry this took forever to finally post, but I hope you like it nonetheless!!

network tagging: @cultofdionysusnet @svthub @k-labels @kvanity-main

How would San react to the slutty reindeer outfit? Would he think the tail was cute? You imagine the look on his face as he opens the Christmas present you are trying to pick out. Usually, he would be the one deciding what you would dress up as. This year you want to try something new, you want to surprise him with a sexy new outfit. For him. 

When you see the sexy Santa outfit hanging neatly on one of the rows of the toyshop, you can’t help yourself. It was so perfect. Tiny red briefs in velour, black gloves, and a matching belt… you figured that the belt had other purposes than holding up the nonexistent pants. You want to see San in the skimpy outfit. You need to see how it would fit snuggly around his large cock, and experience the feeling of the leather gloves when they meet your plush skin. 

You are getting too excited just thinking about it, and Christmas Eve is still a whole week away. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts you take a set of the skimpy outfit for San and continue browsing. 

Maybe you should get something for yourself as well? You debated it for a bit, looking at all the different seasonal and general costumes. You had quite a few at home already, with San loving to dress you up you had tried on quite a few over the years. When you spot the matching Mrs Santa Claus set you realize what needs to be done. 

After all, he needs something pretty to look at too. This was his present after all. You could hear his seductive voice as if he stood right beside you, “Such a pretty whore, all dolled up for me on Christmas Eve.”

You imagine his smirk as he sees what you have planned for him. Your stomach flutters with anticipation at the thought. He likes to be dominant just as much as you love being his submissive, but sometimes you want to be the one taking the initiative, the one to take control. Picking out the sluttiest Christmas outfits for the two of you as a Christmas gift felt like the perfect opportunity for you to do so. You get to choose what and how it is going to be done. At least, that’s what you have in mind right now. 

Before leaving the store with your new costumes, you ask for a good recommendation from the staff for your third surprise for San. A vibrator, just a small little thing that you could use as a helping hand to make him feel as good as possible. You don’t use toys on him very often, but why not? They always make you feel good. You decide to try it out this once. 

The gifts are wrapped in red and gold when Christmas Eve comes around. After a week of thinking daily about how to go about giving him the gifts with the best result, you decide to put on your own outfit and hide it under your pajamas until the right moment. 

San had not had the day off. The life of an idol could not be put off even on holidays such as this. You watch his performance on your TV as it airs, fixing your boobs in the lacy bra one last time before covering up with your Christmas pajama shirt. There was a matching velvet choker, but wearing it could ruin the entire surprise, so you decide to hold off on putting it on until later. The show was a holiday-themed special, San was acting even cuter than normal, fitting right in with his group members as they danced and pranced across the stage in their snowman outfits and reindeer headbands. It is adorable, you can’t deny that. 

San has some serious talent when it comes to hiding his dominant streak. The cute cheek pokes and eye smiles almost convince you that he isn’t the same man who had ordered you to choke on his cock just a couple of nights ago. You had gladly done so of course, but it is sometimes hard to believe they are the same person.

The door slammed shut, making you almost jump out of the couch where you were sitting while waiting for San to arrive. He seems agitated as he drops his bag on the floor. He falls onto the couch the moment he sees you sitting there looking pretty and soft in your red and white checkered pajamas. His head buries itself in your thighs, making your cunt clench a bit, but innocently enough for you to chuckle it off as you begin patting his head. “What’s wrong Sannie?” 

“Too much cuteness, can’t do it anymore. So, so tired.”

He groans into your thighs after looking over to the TV and noticing that you are watching his performance. “Please, turn that off, I really cannot look at that anymore.” 

You chuckle but shut off the TV. “Rough day then, huh?

“Very. But I am free now~,” he says, suddenly sounding a bit more cheerful, his sharp eyes looking at you instead. Arms folding to hold his head up, his biceps balancing on your thighs. He looks so charming, you think. Leftover makeup is still sparkling on his cheeks and in the corners of his eyes. You wipe his cheek gently, “I have an early Christmas present for you. Maybe that will cheer you up and get you in the holiday spirits?” 

San gives you a pleased smile in return, pulling you down with a gentle hand to kiss you softly. He tastes like chocolate chip cookies. It made you not want to pull away, but the thought of finally seeing his reaction to his gifts finally won over the pleasure of feeling his lips on yours. 

You run to fetch the box from under the tree that you had decorated together a couple of weeks ago. The shiny red and gold paper is glistening in your hands when you excitedly hand it over to San. You position yourself next to his legs on the soft carpet, looking up at him with so much hope in your expression. He’s sitting up now, the sweats he had worn when getting off work showing off his dick-print, it feels a bit like he is teasing you even though he doesn’t know it. 

“What is it?” San asks, eyebrows curiously knitting as he picks up the rather light package he had seen under the tree for a couple of days now. 

“You can’t ask me that! Just open it!” 

He doesn’t waste any time ripping the paper open after that, the red and white fabric soon appearing to the both of you. San picks up the gloves, the briefs, the hat, and the collar. There is nothing more to the outfit, it’s honestly even less fabric than what you have on underneath your pajamas… You watched his face turn from a small smile into a dark smirk. 

“Are these for me, baby?” 

You nod, meeting his piercing gaze. Heat spread across your skin when San stood up without a word, throwing off his shirt, picking up the tiny Santa collar, and putting it on without much effort. He had practiced putting variations of these on your neck for years, and it wasn’t much harder adorning his own neck with one. 

His proportions always stunned you, and seeing him so causally pulling his pants down to reveal his large bulge sitting prettily in his boxers made your mouth water. His body is seductive, that was the only way to put it. The small red and white briefs are quickly pulled on, and you can’t help but be a bit sad that he was putting on more clothes right now, even though you loved seeing him try on his Christmas present just as you had planned. 

“Will you hand me those, love?” Obediently you hand over the black gloves and the hat he pointed toward, earning a “Good girl,” from San. The way his voice isn’t hiding the smirk behind those words is making your walls clench around nothing. He is a vision when he stands towering above you, your eyes flickering over the details of his body. Gloves snuggly hugging his hands, arms veiny just like the pretty part right above the edge of the snug briefs. He has gotten so big during the last couple of years, his broad shoulders make you want to throw your arms around him, inviting him to do whatever he pleases tonight. 

“You like what you see, don’t you?”

“Very much, San, I like it a lot,” you agree, gaze still wandering between the different parts of his body. 

He scoffed, “Don’t you think you’re enjoying yourself a bit too much? Have you been a good enough whore this year to act this shamelessly? And you know very well that it’s Sir.” 

You suck in a breath. His stern, but teasing tone made your heart beat faster. Not to mention the way his gloved hand has begun fondling his clothed cock. 

“I have been a very good whore, Sir.” 

“Oh, really?” San flirts, a smirk growing wide on his lips when you begin unbuttoning your shirt. You look down, intimidated by the way he watched you, embarrassed about having planned this entire thing out as a Christmas gift. When the red fabric covering your breast begins to show he bends down to your level on the floor, a leather-gloved hand lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him while you pull the rest of your pajama shirt off. 

“Be a good girl and keep your eyes on me, won’t you?”

You do as he wishes. Your breath is shallow as you let him inspect your figure, still kneeling on the floor in front of him. Your tits are barely being held back by the red lace. You wait until San nods with approval at your new lingerie. He sits back down on the couch, your gaze catching the way his bulge has grown even more. 

“Are you all dolled up for me, baby?” He asks, not expecting any answer. “Will you show me the rest of your outfit now?”

You were reminded of the collar you had hidden in your pocket, pulling it out and handing it over to San submissively. “Could you help me put it on, Sir?” 

With a swift hand, San helps you snap the collar in place. The golden bells that adorn it ring prettily as you run your fingers over it. His touch lingered on your neck, the warmth of his hand chasing chills right down to where the heat had begun pooling between your legs. Without a word, you stand up. Carefully pushing down your pants to reveal the last piece of your outfit. The lace is already sticking to your wet lips. It’s a lewd sight, the fabric covering almost nothing, your bra making your tits look like they were about to burst the tiny thing open at the seams, and the collar ringing softly as your breath moved your chest.

”Like it?” 

“Of course I like it. You have indeed been a good little whore this year,” San responds, his eyes meeting yours with hunger. “Come here, pretty girl.”

You straddled him without hesitation, needy for his touch. San’s hands quickly find your curves, gently caressing you with familiarity and need. His erection presses deliciously against your cunt, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. 

You kiss down his body, eager to please him with your mouth when you remember that you have almost forgotten about the third gift. “Wait! I have one more thing,” you mumble, getting yourself off from your confused (and horny) boyfriend. When you returned with yet another gift in your hands San doesn’t hesitate for a second to rip it open to see what could be more important than an orgasm right now. The tiny red vibrator that he unwrapped was a good answer to his questions. 

“For you?” he asks. 

“No, for you.”

San’s eyes widen when you take the vibrator from him. You had made sure it was ready for use right away. Proud to have prepared so thoroughly, you giggle a bit as you start kissing up his thigh, knees firmly planted on the carpet again, hands fondling San’s erection. It’s fun challenging San’s authority in this way. His hard cock smacks up against his abdomen when you pull down the fabric covering him. He groans above you as you lick along his needy shaft. You let your saliva drip down, sucking gently on his reddened tip. One of your hands works at the base of his erection, and the other fiddles carefully with the vibrator. A slow buzzing sound melts together with San’s pretty sounds as you press it against his hip, slowly dragging it toward his hardness. You hollowed your cheeks, letting the vibrations of the toy go through his hardness, softly at first. 

He jerks up into your mouth, his body fighting to regain control over the situation. With a firm grip, he pushes your head down further on his needy cock. He’s lost in the chase of his own high, the way you are gagging around him only taking him closer to the edge. Your pussy clenches uncontrollably, even when he isn’t ordering you around with words. His actions always manage to give him the upper hand in these situations. He cums down your throat with a series of moans, so pretty you almost begin detesting the vibrator for giving off any sound at all that distracts your ears from hearing him. You let him fuck your throat until he pulls you off of him, teary-eyed and heaving for air. 

“So good for me, fuck-” he gasps out. He looks down at you, hands desperately clinging to his thighs, your nipples having been pushed up above the edge of your tiny bra, hardened and suckable. Cum is dripping from the corner of your mouth, he reaches up a gloved hand, wiping it up only to order you to open your mouth once again. You lick the tiny amount of spilled cum from the black leather. 

You are becoming needy. As much as you love pleasing him, you crave his touch too. Will he grant your wish if you simply ask? It was always a gamble, whether or not he would continue to play with you or please you like you needed. 

He was always careful not to move too fast, loving to tease you and play with you until you were ready to take him inside of you. But after preparing for the surprise and wearing the sexy lingerie while lounging around, and then seeing just how quickly San had slipped into the usual dynamic between the two of you, you felt like you could take him with ease. 

To be completely honest, you are more than convinced that you can take him. Your cunt aches for him. 

“If you don’t stop wiggling your ass like that I might think that you’re already ready for me to get a taste of that sweet pussy,” San smirks as he watches your thighs squeeze together in search of some relief. 

“I’m ready for you, Santa baby.”

“That’s cute,” he scoffs, “You seem like an eager little whore today.”

He gives you a look of mischief. An expression you love seeing, since it tells you that he has made his plans for what to do with you next.

“Can you lay down for me, pretty girl?”

You rise from the floor and position yourself next to San, your pussy available for him to use as he sees fit. The black leather gloves he still wears touch down on your soft thighs, helping you spread your legs for San to see just how wet you have gotten. With a swift finger, he pulls your red panties aside, watching as your folds spread beautifully. Slick and glistening. 

He hums, “Such a sweet pussy you have, baby. I just can’t get enough…” 

You gasp as he dives in for a taste, finally giving you something to help satisfy your urges. His tongue swipes at your pussy lips, lips kissing your clit, eyes closed, and his moans reveal just how much he’s enjoying himself as he eats you out. 

A warm feeling spreads throughout your body when he sucks on your clit as a finger or two begin slipping into you and curling against your sensitive spot. He has a talent for making you cum fast, and hard. You are grinding up against his face when your first orgasm washes over you. 

He works you through it, kisses against your inner thighs and a calming touch making sure you ride it out until you are panting and begging him for another. 

San’s eyes shine at the pleading sounds. “My very own little whore, so desperate for cock.”

“Please… just one more!” 

“I need to give you something back for this wonderful Christmas present, don’t I? A couple more orgasms sound like a good idea to me,” he says as he pulls you up by your arms, and with your assistance, you are now straddling him as he kisses you. He doesn’t taste like chocolate chip cookies anymore, now he tastes of you. It makes you feel dizzy. 

You slip onto his hard erection, taking him in with a moan. He helps you start bouncing on his lap, the bells around your neck ringing softly as he stretches you out. The gloves aid him in holding a steady grip around your hips and thighs as he lifts you as much as he can while simultaneously watching your pussy coating his cock in your slick. His muscles become even more defined with each curl. You can’t take your eyes away from him. You whimper that you are close, and in response, San reaches down to pick up the tiny vibrator that lies next to him on the couch. 

He presses the toy against your clit, your walls contracting around his length at the sensation. You are coming undone within seconds, but he doesn’t remove the vibrations, overstimulating you until you are squirming on his lap. Nails clawing at his bare, sweaty shoulders, and walls squeezing him uncontrollably. 

You didn’t mean to come a second time, but when you go silent, and your entire body tenses against him San knows that he has succeeded in returning the favor. He cums inside of you, filling you up, eager to see it run out of you. He would’ve eaten it out of you, but you are already spent. Next time, he decides. 

With a soft hand, he removes the toy from you, a gentle touch soothing your clit while you whimper at how sensitive he has gotten you. He lets you calm down, his cock softening inside of your warmth, just how you like it. It makes you feel close to him when he lets you feel him like that. 

“I’ll go get some towels, could you stay right here for me baby?” he says, soft voice feeling like a warm blanket around your exhausted mind. You nod and slide off of him, missing his warmth the moment his arms let you go. He comes back with damp towels and water, making sure you’re cleaned up completely, and that you drink the entire glass of water before he finally forces you on your feet so you can go to the bathroom. He has taken the Santa outfit off, instead, he’s dressed in the nice grey sweats from before and a simple t-shirt. He dresses you in your softest pajamas and gives you new underwear. He patts your hair while he snuggles up next to you in your shared bed. The lights from the Christmas tree shine their warm light all the way to the bedroom. You let San take care of you completely, falling asleep in his warm embrace after having begged him for at least ten kisses. 

“Thank you, that was a really nice present, baby.”

You smiled a drowsy smile, “I’m gonna have to think up something for New Year’s now because I wanna do this again…”

“Maybe I could be the one to surprise you, I have some ideas already,” San said and pulled you even closer, fingers running softly across your back. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

#codn: santa23 #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #choi san smut #choi san x reader #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #san smut #san x reader #choi san #atz san

[bl00dst41ned]

✧ ˚ · . unexpected . · ˚ ✧

pairing: jude bellingham x black!reader

summary: in which fans find out about Jude’s biggest secret

author’s note: hé vzy j’ai rien à dire (ouais ouais je parle français mtnt)

faceclaim: @rayan.xasan, @dejacorin (for most of the art (check it out btw, she’s so talented) and @rosegyaI with a capital i (on twitter) for the art and cat (also the baby is velour, danileigh and dababy's daughter)

Liked by realmadrid and 854,697 others

judebellingham life is good

jobebellingham ugly 🤢

→ judebellingham yeah shut up🙄

vinijr top man 🌟

yourusername photo creds ??

→ judebellingham no you'll be alright

Liked by judebellingham and 344 others

yourusername just wanted to show what art i have done lately

yourbsf TYLERRRRR

→ yourusername YESSSS

judebellingham paint me next 🙃

→ yourusername already did just never told you

user1 it’s beautiful girlie

→ yourusername thx love <333

judefan we were just dumb

Liked by trentarnold66 and 324 others

yourusername little things that make me happy everyday

judebellingham hey pretty girl

→ yourusername i have a boyfriend 🙅🏾‍♀️

yourbsf these cookies look yums

→ yourusername i know i need some more NOW

jb4life she even posted him

Liked by jobebellingham and 584 others

yourusername when he keeps his girls happy

judebellingham 🤍🤍

yourbsf Auras the happiest baby

→ yourusername i swearrrr she's always smiling

madders tell Aura her favourite uncle said hi

→ trentarnold66 yeah sure

→ jordanhenderson you guys are delusional, i’m her favourite

→ levicolwill favourite grandpa maybe but nothing more

→ jobebellingham she's clinging to me as we speak but okay

anotherfan niece ?!? what is going AWN ??

Liked by vinijr and 1,058,214 others

judebellingham little post to introduce you to my favourite girls, Y/N and our baby Aura

yourusername can't believe we created her

→ judebellingham i know she's perfect

user2 the matching hats 🥹🥹

england ❤️

jobebellingham i see Aura mastering what i taught her

→ judebellingham so you're the one who did that...

like and repost for support

masterlist for more

#written by bl00dst41ned #football #football fluff #football headcanon #football smau #football social media au #football x black reader #football x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham headcanon #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham social media au #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x black reader

[chestharrington]

Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, handjob, p in v). Dubious Consent (coercion, power imbalance, failure to pull out), unhealthy/probably illegal power imbalance, stripper!reader, gator is an asshole (like extremely), degradation, misogyny, sexual assault (by a non major character), brief violence, kind of stockholm syndrome if you think about it, unhappy ending

Summary: Gator Tillman’s fixation of the week just so happens to be you, for better or worse.

A/N: If you know me personally please do not read this thank u <3

The foggy clouds of your breath were painted pink by the glow of the neon sign— The Venus Lounge— with a cute little clamshell opening and closing and everything. 

You had a velour sweatsuit pulled over the skimpy costume you’d wear for your next dance, hot pink and bedazzled across the ass. It was trendy maybe fifteen years prior, so it cost just about nothing when you bought it at a bin sale. 

Sweet, strawberry-scented vapor poured from your lips as you exhaled. You hated this stupid thing— you’d rather smoke a cigarette like a goddamn adult. But the owner insisted, “You ladies gotta stay smelling nice and sweet and respectable for our clientele.” Which was fucking stupid considering they came in smelling like sweat and mud and body odor. 

From the alley, you could get a sneak peek of whoever was coming your way for the night— the big spenders, the handsy ones, the cheap ones… and Gator Tillman’s stupid entourage, who you avoided like the plague.

You made the mistake of getting cozy with him. Once. A few well-paid lap dances, then a private dance in one of the dimly lit back rooms. He’d been handsy, and you relished in it, in him. A handsome, powerful guy who looked at you like you were the hottest woman he’d ever seen. You sucked him off in the private room and he gave you a hundred to shut the fuck up about it. Like you were some sort of whore.

Gator. What a stupid fucking name. His dad was a grade-A cocksucker, so it made sense that he’d name his son something so goddamn stupid. The other girls were scared of Roy, with good reason. Their boyfriend get too rough? He’d brush it off— no domestic abuse charges on his watch. The man is the master of the house, and the woman is his property. One girl swore he came onto her, and she got a broken arm when she brushed him off. A lot of people thought that stepping to the Tillman’s meant winding up dead. 

Fuck that. 

You hadn’t wanted to wind up in this town anyway. You were married, once upon a time. You had the tattoo of his name on your hipbone, a shitty rental house in West Texas, and a wedding band he bought from a pawn shop. He found a job up north, and you followed like an obedient puppy. 

It wasn’t your fault he’d racked up gambling debts— that he owed the wrong people money he didn’t have. And it wasn’t your fault that he was fucking a waitress at the local diner— thin, blonde, perky. The divorce was settled quickly— but you were left penniless, in bumfuck North Dakota, in Tillman territory. 

Well, it was a good thing you still had your looks. 

You saw the police cruiser pull into the lot, heard the slam of the car door and the mindless chatter between the valiant boys in blue. Those assholes did about as much for the city as a tick does for a dog. Your phone buzzed against your hip, warning you that your break was up. You took one more puff from your vape and slipped back in the door to the dressing room. 

You warned everyone that Gator and his boys were out there as you slipped out of your jogging suit and adjusted your dancewear beneath— a baby blue bikini set that you’d bedazzled by hand. You slipped a sheer skirt overtop and surveyed yourself in the mirror. There was still a flush on your cheeks from being out in the cold, but it would be fine. 

You slipped out onto the floor, passing by crowded tables. It was busy, even for a Saturday, which meant more money to take home. A hand grabbed your ass and squeezed it in a meaty paw. It was some drunk old guy who probably couldn’t even get it up anymore but had maintained his pervy inclinations. You bit your cheek to keep from saying anything and kept making your rounds.

“You want a dance?” You’d ask the safe guys— the ones who looked nervous to be there, whose eyes kept flitting around like they’d get caught any moment. Their button-ups were ironed, their slacks pressed. Usually, they had a nice fountain pen in their pocket. Clerks, CPAs, any of those nerdy desk jobs. 

Most of the time they declined, too nervous to go that far, but occasionally you’d get a yes, do a bit of grinding, and walk away with a nice tip. 

You’d done a few lap dances by the time you passed by Gator and his crew. Your money was tucked into the band at your hip, concealing your ex-husband’s name. 

He called you like a dog– whistling low. You froze, and turned to face him, all smug and pleased with himself. 

“You need somethin’, Deputy?” You asked, jaw clenched, raising a brow. “Because if you do, you can ask like a gentleman. I’m a lady, not a dog.”

He laughed, glancing back at his pack of asshole cops to make sure they saw the next part. “Really? ‘Cause it seems to me you’re actin’ like a bitch.” They all laughed, because of course they did. They thought he was so, so clever. Before you could respond, he held up a fifty-dollar bill between two fingers. “C’mere, girl. I want a dance.”

Your eyes flicked between him and the fifty between his fingers. You were broke, but was it worth it? He saw your hesitation and his smug grin grew. “Aw, you need it that bad, huh?” He patted his thigh twice. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Anyone in their right mind would’ve said no, and walked away with their dignity intact, but he was right— you needed it bad. 

So you approached and tried to pluck the money from his hand, but he pulled it away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Nuh-uh, Sweetheart. Gotta earn it first.”

You huffed in disbelief, taking a step back. But meeting his gaze told you how serious he was. You swallowed your pride and straddled his lap, grinding to the beat. 

It felt degrading, dancing on him while his friends all leered. Your tits pressed against Gator’s shirt, his hands firm on your hips, even though he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch. If you called him out on it, he’d probably just say it was nothing he hadn’t done before.

It could’ve been one song, or maybe more. Probably more. When he finally removed his hands, he nodded for you to get off. You swallowed uncomfortably and took a few awkward steps back. 

“The money,” you said weakly.

His face scrunched slightly, like he was considering it. “Eh… I don’t think you earned it, Sweetheart. I mean, I’m not even hard.” 

He got a real kick out of that, and out of the kicked puppy look in your eyes. You swallowed it down like a bitter pill and met his gaze. “It’s not my fault that all the blow you do is killing your dick. Keep your fuckin’ money, Gator. I don’t want it.��

Which was a lie. You wanted it more than anything… but you knew you’d pissed him off. You could see the vein popping at his temple, the way his hand clenched around his beer bottle. Better to pretend you were better off without it and walk off with some dignity left.

It took about three steps to realize that there was a little less pressure on your hip than there used to be. Your hand felt along the band of the bikini and came up blank. He’d taken your fucking money. 

You heard him giggling behind you once he knew you realized, but what was the point? Who would you call to get it back? The police?

By the end of the night, you counted your meager earnings and tucked it away in your bag. Without your dancewear and the makeup and the heels, you could pass for the average citizen of Stark County. 

You bundled up in a parka before you walked to your car, a shitty, beat-up car nearly older than you were. One of the side mirrors was ripped off, and the bumper was caved in, but she ran. 

Tucked into the windshield was a tiny note, in a messy, nearly illegible scrawl— Impress me next time. You crumpled it and tossed it onto the asphalt.

  You saw him again on Monday. The club was closed on Sunday, due to an ordinance that Roy Tillman had put in place about businesses of ill repute operating on the holy day. You wondered what he thought about his son bankrolling the lives of half of the strippers who worked at the club.

He was alone, though, which scared and comforted you in equal measure. You watched him from afar, sitting at the bar, drinking a White Claw and puffing on that stupid fucking vape. 

There was a girl in his lap, one of the newer dancers who didn’t know better. Whatever. She’d figure him out soon enough. 

Mondays were slow. You did a few dances onstage, made the rounds, flirted with some of the regulars. Gator was blissfully elsewhere, which you loved. 

The night had been pretty tame until just before last call, when an overserved realtor got loud and handsy. 

“C’mon, why don't you take me back to one of those rooms without the cameras?” One asked as you gave him a half-hearted lap dance. His breath was like a punch bowl at a senior prom, and his fingers dug into the plush of your ass. 

You winced as he pulled you harder against him, and you felt the uncomfortable prod of his dick against you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was grinding up against you, sweaty at his temples and forehead. He was deceptively strong, holding you down against him so he could rut against you and get off. “Ya know, the private rooms for the big tippers. Better than all this over the clothes stuff.”

“You need to stop,” you said, as firmly as you could, shoving at his chest to really get your point across. He didn’t let up, and gave you a smarmy grin as he began roughly moving your hips of his own accord. “Hey, stop it, asshole.”

“Hey, you’re the one offerin’ me a dance,” he said. “I sold a nice big house today, got a real good commission. I could tip ya real good if you’re nice.”

“Let me go!” You shoved at his chest, slapping at him, but he just grinned. You were just wondering if biting his ear off would do the trick when you felt yourself pulled off him and tossed aside on the floor like a rag doll. 

Then there was the soft sound of blows landing against a stomach. Then the crunch of a broken nose. The wheezy rattle of the realtor’s breath once he started spitting up blood and teeth. Each punch made you flinch until finally, it relented. 

“Should’ve let her go, asshole.” Gator’s knuckles were bloodied, and you realized he was holding out a hand to help you up. You took it, nervously, and readjusted your costume where the realtor had tugged at them. “You hurt?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine but is— I mean, is he gonna be okay?”

Gator’s brows furrowed as he spared a glance toward the bloodied pile of meat on the floor. He spat in his direction and shrugged. “Who fuckin’ cares? Goddamn lowlife.”

You wondered if he could sense the irony. His face lit up in recognition, then he knelt beside the realtor, patting him down, searching for something. He stood and held up a fancy, monogrammed leather wallet. 

He sifted through, retrieving bill after bill. “Here. Y’earned it.” It was more cash than you brought home in a week. More cash than anyone should carry on themselves at once. 

“I’m not taking that,” you said weakly. “I can’t.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking the money in your bra. “Such a fuckin’ bitch, you know that? Can’t even say thank you or nothin’.”

He left you standing there over the broken body of the asshole realtor, who may or may not have been dying. Either way, you figured the Tillman’s would handle it. For better or worse.

  “I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” you argued, which was a lie. And it’s not like anyone would listen even if it wasn’t. Police are on their way, they said. They’ll deal with thieving filth like you.

Well… they didn’t have to get quite so personal. You sat outside the Manager’s office at the stupid fucking sex shop, picking at your cuticles until you heard the police cruiser roll up outside. You heard the door slam, and muffled chatter until you saw him walk in.

“Well… look who got herself into some trouble. And here of all places too.”

Fuck. Gator Fucking Tillman. 

You glanced up at him for a moment before returning to your nails. The shop owner was talking the deputy’s fucking ear off until you heard the question you dreaded. 

“What is it she was tryin’ to steal? I mean… there’s a lot to choose from, I’ll tell ya that.”

You watched with a thin sense of dread as the shop owner laid out your would-be haul of lingerie that had been stuffed into your purse. Gator grinned as he glanced over at you, then back at the lingerie. 

“Can I have the office? I need some privacy to interrogate the perp.” The manager complied, bending to the will of the law or whatever. Gator grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside, closing the door firmly behind him. 

You watched as he strode towards the nice armchair behind the desk, then sat down, legs spread wide. He unzipped the stupid police vest and shrugged it off, so it landed in a pile on the floor. For a moment, it was quiet as you stared at him dumbly, then he snapped his fingers. 

“What? You want me to tell you why did it? Three fucking guesses.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No, I want you to try it on.” 

You swallowed, and when you spoke your tongue felt dumb and heavy. “What?”

“You heard me. Try it all on, and tell me if it was worth the trouble.” He looked at you expectantly, and when you didn’t move, he sighed. “It’s this, or I take you to the station, get you booked, and all that. I doubt anyone’s gonna pay your bail, so that’s a few days before arraignment. Then it’s a court case for larceny, and let’s be honest, you’re guilty.”

You stared at him, speechless. He stood up suddenly, grabbing his things before you interrupted— “Wait! Wait. Just… sit back down.”

He grinned. “There’s a good girl. Make it good for me, yeah? You know how.”

You huffed, heart pounding as you grabbed the first set and turned around to change. You had just pulled off your shirt when he cleared his throat behind you. Your hands shook as you turned around, barely covering your tits. 

“C’mon, I said to make it good, Sweetheart,” he said with a thinly veiled sense of amusement. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

The fucking asshole. But you took a breath and steadied yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. 

His gaze was intense, tracing each curve and dip of your body as you moved. You slipped the bra on, clipping it shut with shaking hands.

“Alright, now you can turn around,” he said, nodding towards the panties in your hand. “And do it nice and slow for me.”

Your face burned with embarrassment as you turned around, working the buttons of your skirt so you could slip it down your legs. It fell into a pile around your ankles and fanned out like a flower. You hooked your thumbs into the panties you were wearing, pink with little flowers spotting the fabric. As slowly as you could manage while terrified and pissed, you slipped them down your legs. 

When you spared a glance at Gator, he was smirking right back at you. “Give those here,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly. 

“What?”

“Geez, you’re fuckin’ dumb. Lemme see ‘em.” He more or less snatched the panties from your grip, smiling like the cat who got the cream as he held them up. “Might have to keep ‘em. Evidence.”

You swallowed down your annoyance and pulled the lacy panties up your legs. When you were finished, you turned, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Shockingly, he was quiet as he looked at you, eyes raking over your tits, and every bare piece of skin he could see. It felt like you stood there under his gaze for hours before he finally spoke up. 

“It’s not doin’ much for ya, sweetheart. I mean, you don’t look very fuckable.”

It landed like a blow to your gut. He was an asshole, so it should’ve meant nothing… but he knew exactly where your soft spots were, and just how hard to dig his fingers in. “Fuck you, Gator.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he cooed, patronizing and smug. “So fuckin’ sensitive, huh? Can’t take a joke. C’mere, lemme see you.” He grabbed your wrist in the tightly packed office and tugged you forward, so you practically stumbled on top of him.

You flinched as his hand moved up the back of your thigh, warm and calloused. When he gave your ass a rough squeeze, you closed your eyes and shivered. 

“Ya know, I saw your husband the other day.” His finger traced along the name on your hip— Jack. Every loop and whorl of the cursive claimed by his touch. “Looked real happy with that girl of his. Sarah, right? The waitress he was fuckin’ behind your back?”

You swallowed hard and said nothing, but he was more than happy to keep running his mouth. “Well, she’s not special. I’ve fucked Sarah too, and she just laid there like a dead fish the whole time.”

“Maybe you just weren’t that good.” You smirked as you replied, unable to resist being a bit of an asshole right back. 

“You gettin’ smart right now?” He gave your ass a quick slap, making you squeak. “I was trying to give you a compliment, but you don’t fuckin’ deserve it. You’re so fuckin’ used up that you don’t even know what good is.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you think that. It’s easy to blame it on the girl when you can’t make ‘em cum, right?”

His jaw clenched, anger painting his features. “Wouldn’t you fuckin’ like to know, huh?” He caught sight of the smirk on your face and shoved you back. “Put on the next one.”

Fucking dickhead. You rolled your eyes and quickly stripped off the lingerie, throwing it in his general direction once it was off. You weren’t as graceful in dressing in the next set. Why give him a show and let him win? Once it was on, you crossed your arms and looked at him expectantly. 

“Well?”

He cocked his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I like it better than the first, but I don’t think your heart’s quite in it. Gimme a twirl.”

You gave a slow turn, then met his gaze again, raising a brow. He ran a hand over his mouth, looking you up and down. You caught the slightest movement as he spread his legs a little wider. It only served to highlight the bulge in the front of his stupid fucking cargos.

“You’re really enjoyin’ yourself, huh?” You snapped, eyes narrowed. He laughed, following your gaze to his lap. 

“Well,” he began, lazily moving a hand to cup his growing hard-on. “I could always find a way to enjoy myself more. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You ignored him and began trying on the last set you’d attempted to steal. A bright red set, skimpier than the others, which you were sure he fucking loved. Before he could ask, you gave a slow twirl. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed. He was blatantly stroking himself over the fabric, eyes half-lidded. You swallowed hard, watching the sight before you. It was like something out of a bad porno. Or a really good one. Jury was out. He patted his thigh, nodding you over. “C’mere, I won’t bite.”

A moment of hesitation passed through you, wondering if this was really what you wanted. It was like you could hear his voice in your head, asking if you could do any better. You sighed and slowly settled onto his lap. He looked at you with a funny sort of expression— not so much that he was smug, just… a bit pleased. 

“You gonna give me a dance?” His hand rested on your thigh, fingers tapping erratically. You shook your head and he rolled his eyes. “Is this ‘cause I didn’t pay the other night?” You scowled. “I mean, I think you owe me now. I paid ya back a hundred times over thanks to Mr. Realtor from the other day.”

   You stayed silent and still, looking anywhere but his face. He took your chin between his fingers and turned you to face him, so close you could taste the fruit flavor from that goddamn vape on his breath. 

“Remember how turned on you got just from havin’ my cock in that pretty mouth of yours?” He said, voice barely above a whisper. He ran a thumb along your bottom lip, tugging at it slightly. “I still remember the way you had to slip a hand between your legs to play with yourself.”

You made a weak sound in the back of your throat as you remembered it— that desperate, all-consuming need. Maybe it’s because he was an asshole, or maybe it was all of the authority. Maybe that’s why you shoplifted anyway. Because you knew he’d be the one to show up. 

“You ever been with someone as big as me before?”

You shivered. “No.”

A wide smile spread across his lips. “Since?” You just shook your head. “Betcha been dreamin’ about it too. Stuffin’ that greedy little pussy full of your fingers whenever you think about me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t quite deny it. It wasn’t a frequent fantasy, but it was there. “You’re a real narcissist. You know that?”

He grinned. “That’s not a no, is it?” He leaned in closer, nuzzling against your throat, his breath hot. “Bet if I slipped my hand inside those panties, they’d be fuckin’ soaked.”

And despite your better judgment, you fucking whimpered. All but confirming it. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he cooed. His hand found purchase on the small of your back, and when he applied the smallest bit of pressure, you found yourself giving in. Slowly, your hips ground against his, making a soft sigh escape your lips each time your cunt met his clothed dick. 

“Want me to find some music?” He asked with a boyish grin. “I bet I have Pony somewhere on my phone.”

You shook your head before he could even try to grab it. “I’ll kill you if you even try.” He laughed, just a bit. It was rare to hear him laugh and have it not be at your, or anyone else’s expense. 

You grabbed his hands, moving them to your waist, just at your ribcage. The tips of his fingers brushed against your tits, and he smiled.

“Takin’ charge now, are ya? You could’ve just put ‘em right here.” He moved his hands up, cupping your breasts in his large hands. You moaned softly as he gave a slight squeeze, arching into his touch. “ See? That’s much better, huh? Just take what you need, baby. I’ll give it right to ya.”

Take what you need? You could do that. You moved your hands along his chest, fighting the urge to just tear off his shirt and reveal the white tank top you knew he always wore beneath. Instead, you slipped your hands to his goddamn cargos and made quick work of the button and zipper. 

He sat back and watched as you spit into your palm, his eyes hazy with arousal. You slipped your hand inside his pants and slipped beneath the band of his plaid boxers. A low groan escaped his lips when you wrapped your hand around him and squeezed.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Just like that.” His head fell back, leaving the plane of his neck for the taking. Your lips pressed against the skin there, leaving a mixture of soft kisses and bites as you worked him in your hand. 

Gator’s stamina was absolute dogshit. You could tell when he was close from the way he’d pulse in your hand and whimper like a fuckin’ girl. You’d just have to squeeze him at his base to stave it off, give him a few seconds to cool off before you kept going. 

“You want me?” You asked, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“So fuckin’ bad.” He was bucking up into your fist, chasing the sweet pleasure of your soft hand around him. 

A smile spread across your lips. “Then earn it.” You pulled back, meeting his gaze as you removed your hand from him. 

He sat there, panting and staring dumbly as you sat atop the desk and spread your legs invitingly. “C’mon, Gator. You’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out.”

He huffed with annoyance as he stood, towering over you as he pulled off his shirt to reveal that fucking tank top. He leaned down just slightly, so his arms were caging you in. “I’ll fuckin’ earn it, alright. I’m gonna own this pussy by the time I’m through.”

He knelt between your legs, kissing his way up your thighs. You cried out as his teeth dug into the plush skin, leaving an indentation that would probably turn purple the next day. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” He just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and tugged them down. 

He was quick to drag his fingers through your slit, coating them in your arousal. The wet sounds of him playing with you, spreading you open for him, made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“I’m an asshole, but you clearly fuckin’ like it, huh?” He said, holding up his fingers, glistening with your juices, as proof. His smirk made annoyance and arousal bubble up within you, tangling in an utterly infuriating way. “Relax for me, yeah? Gonna stretch you out, make you feel real good.”

You moaned softly as his fingers pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the idea of being full. A gentleman would start off slow, work you up to two fingers gradually. Gator Tillman wasn’t a fucking gentleman, but you didn’t care. 

“Shhh… open up for me,” He said, speaking not to you, but to your cunt. “That’s it, atta girl.” A low whimper escaped you as his fingers pressed inside, thick and stretching you just right. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, needing him deeper, more, more.

“Jesus Christ, Gator,” His fingers flexed at just the right spot, making you cry out desperately. He grinned, then pressed a kiss to your thigh as he began fucking you with his fingers, acutely aware that the slightest twitch of his fingers could make you fucking sing for him. 

It’s a funny thing he does with his fingers— not quite jackhammering them in and out like most of the other guys you’d been with but not exactly too far away. And you were fucking whining for it, your hips canting against his fingers until he finally had to throw his arm across your pelvis to just, in his words, keep you fuckin’ still.

It felt good, but you were also very aware that he was purposefully, or, worse, unknowingly avoiding your clit. The more you considered it, the more convinced you were that it was the latter. He was homeschooled, apparently, by his religious nut father, which meant his sex ed was probably just porn, and not even the decent kind. 

You squirmed slightly. “Gator—”

“’M busy.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. I mean, sure, he was good with his hands, but you would also appreciate that skill applied elsewhere. Whatever, you weren’t helpless. 

His eyes narrowed as you moved a hand between your legs, circling your clit in time with his fingers. Your head fell back as a string of moans escaped your lips. That’s what you needed. 

“God, you’re desperate,” he muttered, but he didn’t bother to redirect your hands. “I coulda done that.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t already so close, the pressure and attention to your clit exactly what you needed to fall over the edge. 

“I feel you squeezin’ my fingers,” he said, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Wanna cum that bad, huh? Can’t even take what I give ya? Are you that fuckin’ needy?” When you didn’t think to answer, he leaned over and bit your thigh again. Harder.

“Fuck!” You shouted, annoyed that you’d have a second set of bruises to cover. But your annoyance melted right back into the siren call of pleasure. 

Moans tumbled from your lips before you could bring yourself to answer. “Yes, I’m that needy,” You gasped as his fingers moved deeper, harder with every thrust in. Your fingers moved faster on your clit, making your legs twitch on either side of Gator’s shoulders.

He let you teeter there on the precipice for a little longer, until you were sure you were going to tumble straight into sweet ecstasy. So close you could taste it, sweet and heady on the back of your tongue. 

And like that, Gator pulled away, slipping his fingers from your cunt and leaving you wanting. You sat there, panting and frustrated as he wiped his fingers off on your thigh. “Too fuckin’ bad. Bend over.”

He slapped the side of your thigh as he stood and looked down at you expectantly. Your legs wobbled as you stood in what little room he provided you, tits brushing against his chest for just a moment as you turned and bent over the desk. 

“Isn’t this a pretty sight?” He grabbed your ass, kneading the plush skin roughly before landing a rough smack. You winced at the sting as you spared a glance over your shoulder. He landed another slap on the opposite cheek, then spread you apart with his thumbs. “You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, you know that?”

He was quick to free his cock from the confines of his cargos and boxers. Over your shoulder, you could see the heap of clothes he’d made on the floor. In the back of your mind, you noted the very careless way he treated the gun in his thigh holster, but said nothing. It was hard to focus on improper gun handling when he had his length in his hand, stroking it slowly as he took in the sight of you. 

“You’re gonna pull out, right?” You asked, chewing your lip as you looked at him.

He rolled his eyes, the tip of his cock notched right at your entrance, making you arch against him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. I’m not stupid, I’ll pull out.”

The prettiest groan escaped him as he rocked against your cunt, coating himself in your dripping arousal before the head of his cock nudged at your entrance. 

“You want me?” He asked, his breath coming in pants. Your body felt like a fucking live wire, hyperaware of the feeling of him, just barely outside of where you craved him.

You nodded. “Uh-huh. I want you. So bad, Gator.”

He sank into you, nice and slow, so he could relish in the warm, soft feeling of your walls around him. A sappier man would’ve said it felt like heaven. Gator wasn’t sappy. 

“Goddamn, you’ve got the tightest fuckin’ pussy,” He managed once he’d bottomed out, every inch of him fully sheathed inside. “Forget what I said about you bein’ used up.”

What a gentleman. You whined softly, pushing back against him to silently beg for more. He put a hand on the small of your back and pushed down so your back arched even more. Then he fucked you in earnest. 

The noises you made should’ve been illegal— some form of indecency or something. Loud and whiny, desperate for more. Your nails scratched at the laminate of the desk, seeking something, anything to hold onto for purchase as he fucked you within an inch of your life. 

He was so big you could’ve sworn you felt him deep in your stomach, even though you knew physically that was impossible. Each thrust punched out a keening moan from your lips, a swear, a breathy whine, or just his stupid fucking name over and over again. 

He reached a hand beneath you, so his rough fingers could play with your clit. “This is what you wanted so bad, yeah?” He asked, voice breathy as he quickly rubbed your clit. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Gator.” You were practically babbling. Thank you thank you thank you. 

Over your shoulder, you watched him using your body, chasing his high. Every slap of your ass was for his own gratification, just to see it jiggle. He was only rubbing your clit so he could feel you squeeze him even tighter. 

You didn’t care. You fucking loved it. Even as he manhandled you, lifting your thigh and placing it on the desk so he could fuck you deeper, you just laid there and took it like a fucking champ. 

“Woulda fucked you sooner if I knew it’d be this good.” His voice wavered slightly with the effort it took to maintain the relentless pace he had set. He slapped your ass hard, making you yelp and clench around him. 

What you’d said earlier was right— you were needy. You rocked back against him, meeting him with each thrust. The sounds of his hips hitting your ass with each thrust were nearly as pornographic as both of your moans. 

Gator didn’t shut up most of the time, but when he was buried inside of you he could mostly only manage pretty moans. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart. You’re… you’re really workin’ for it, huh?” His words were interrupted by low moans and grunts. “C’mon. Give it to me.”

He let you do most of the work, rocking back against him, making you fuck yourself on his cock. And he looked fucking smug about it too. 

The switch snapped suddenly when he grabbed your hips and fucked you without abandon, skin slapping against skin as he roughly bullied himself inside of you again and again. 

“That’s it. Just lay there and take it, sweetheart.” His voice was breathy and strained. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Fuck! That’s it. Just like that.”

He came suddenly, thrusting deep and hard as he spilled within you. It annoyed you that he looked pretty when he came— his mouth ajar, eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling just slightly. 

And then you were annoyed because he fucking lied. He pulled out after he had ridden the aftershocks with a few shallow thrusts and quickly redressed. 

“You didn’t pull out,” you said, your voice was strained with annoyance and anger as you looked back at him. He was getting dressed, making sure he looked alright. He didn’t even care to get you off. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged, trying to appear unbothered by it all. But you saw the annoyed tick in his jaw, the anger beneath it. Like a rattlesnake all coiled up, ready to strike if you made the wrong move. You were never on equal terms. You were no better than prey. And you should have known better, right?

Annoying, hot tears welled on your lashline, and you prayed to any higher power that he wouldn’t notice as you wiped at your eyes. You stood, doing your best to redress in silence, doing your best to remain small. He slapped a fifty on the desk and you flinched. “Buy some Plan B if you’re that fuckin’ worried about it. Jesus Christ.” He paused as he reached the door. “I’ll tell the manager we got it all sorted out. Isn’t that good enough for ya?”

You stood there, unsatisfied and used, with his cum leaking out of you, and stayed silent. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t anything at all. 

You walked out with fifty dollars, streaked mascara, three sets of lingerie you’d throw in the trash, and a newfound desire to get the fuck out of Stark County. And, maybe, some misplaced hope that next time might be different.

#it's here it's finally here #gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #anyways if you read this pls like and leave a comment idgaf if you reblog truly just wanna know if u enjoyed <3

[cottonconnielvr]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJQxRCEV/ this feel like your reader

AWWW YES OMG !! ♡︎♡︎ 💞💞

warnings ✩ — fluffff, cute clingy stuff, kissing, + character insert

You’d be so so so excited for your boyfriend to get home. He had been at work all day while you sat in the huge penthouse, listening to music or smoking. You missed his company and couldn’t wait for him to get home so you could smother him in your love.

You were laying on the pink velvet couch, Clueless playing on the 100 inch tv (yes 100 inch. we living lavish)

You check the time and it’s 7:45 pm. You practically fly off of the couch as you rush to the door, hearing the lock click. The door opens and your boyfriend doesn’t get a chance to speak before you wrap your arms around his neck, “Hi babieee” Your sweet voice rang out. Your boyfriend immediately smiled, “Hey mami” He pulls back to place a kiss on your lips, his hand traveling down to your butt. He takes the time to take in your figure. You were dressed in a pink sports bra and pink juicy couture booty shorts.

He kicks the door closed with his foot as you guys walking back into the penthouse, you still connected to him. “How was your day?” You jump up as he taps your thigh, grabbing them and locking them around his waist.

“It was aight but i’m happy now that i’m here with you” You don’t respond, just pressing your lips against his. You pull back and press three more tiny kisses. His lips were now smooth with your lip balm, the taste of cupcakes burning on his lips.

He walked to the kitchen, placing you on the cool counter. “That’s gooddd” You hum.

“So can we like… go to Target?” Your boyfriend shook his head at you, smiling to himself. His fingers played with the ends of your velour shorts. “And what do you need from Target?” He retorts, looking back up at you.

You place your arms on his shoulders, “Y’know…for stuff. I can find something to buy” You smile at him.

#eren aot #aot headcanons #aot smut #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot x you #attack on titan eren #connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie springer x y/n #armin arlet x black reader #armin arlet x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein smut #eren jaeger x black reader smut #eren smut

[itsmealaiah]

Treating you right

TW: p in v sex, unprotected sex, sweet sex, tom buying reader items so she shows how much she loves him through intimacy, shopping, mentions of lingerie, fluff into smut

Request: hii love hru? can you do 2008tom x reader where reader brings tom to the mall and he buys her a lot of vs body sprays,lingeries and even juicy couture bag,after shopping they’re ending up doing yk…🤭 (i’m js so desperate to have vs body sprays and miss dior perfume😭)

Rating: 18+, mdni

WC: 1.8k

The sunlight streaming through the window woke you up, signaling another beautiful day. You stretched lazily, yawned, and sat up in bed, the soft sheets pooling around your waist. Today, you had decided to take your boyfriend, Tom, out on a little shopping spree. You had been wanting to visit the mall for quite some time now, and he'd never been there before. You imagined him being fascinated by all the shops, the people, and the lights. It was going to be a fun day, just the two of you.

You threw on a comfortable outfit, a pair of jeans and a tank top, and did your hair in a messy bun. Then, you headed downstairs to the kitchen to make some breakfast. As you cooked, you heard Tom stirring in his room. You called out to him, "Hey, sleepyhead! Rise and shine! It's time to get going!" His groggy voice responded, "Alright, I'm coming."

A few minutes later, he appeared in the kitchen, dressed in his usual casual attire of a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, and then made his way over to the breakfast bar. "Morning, lovely," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. You smiled at him as you put a plate of pancakes in front of him. "I hope you're hungry," you teased. He shot you a playful glare but dug in nonetheless.

Once you had finished eating, you both gathered their things and headed out the door. It was a bright, sunny day, and the air was crisp and fresh. You held hands with Tom as you walked to the car, enjoying the feeling of his warm, solid presence beside you. The mall was only a short drive away, and you could already feel the excitement building up inside you.

The mall was even more breathtaking than you remembered. The glass ceiling allowed sunlight to filter in, casting a soft glow over the countless stores and people below. You led Tom to one of your favorite stores, where they sold your favorite brand of body spray. He had been saving up for a while now, just so he could buy you a whole bunch of different scents. "Pick out whichever ones you like, honey," he said, handing you the shopping basket. "I want you to have everything you want."

You were taken aback by his generosity, and you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest. You chose several of your favorite scents, as well as some that you had been eyeing for a while. Once you had filled the basket, you turned to Tom and smiled. "This is too much. I can't accept all of this." He shrugged, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It's no trouble. I want you to be happy."

You continued shopping, moving from one store to the next. Tom was fascinated by everything, taking in the sights, the sounds, and even the smells of the mall. He particularly liked the lingerie section, where he insisted on picking out a few items for you. "I thought you might like these," he said, handing you a lacy bra and matching panties. You blushed deeply, feeling both shy and flattered. "Thank you, Tom. You really shouldn't have." He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Eventually, you made your way to the final store on your list: a high-end boutique that sold Juicy Couture bags. You had been eyeing one of their signature velour tracksuits for a while now, and you knew Tom would love the bag that came with it. You hesitated for a moment before asking him, "Do you think you could… maybe… carry this for me?" He took the bag from you, his eyes widening in surprise. "Of course, babe. Anything for you." You bit your lip, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. He truly was the perfect boyfriend.

As you continued browsing the store, you found a pair of designer sunglasses that caught your eye. They were a bit pricey, but you knew they'd go perfectly with the new outfit you had in mind for your upcoming vacation. You turned to Tom and said, "Do you think you could…?" He cut you off with a knowing smile. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want." His unwavering support and encouragement made your heart swell with happiness.

You ended up buying the tracksuit, the sunglasses, and a new pair of shoes that you had been eyeing for months. With everything in the bag, you turned to Tom, feeling a little guilty about spending so much money. "I can't believe I'm making you spend this much," you confessed, a small blush creeping up your cheeks. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head. "I love seeing you happy, baby. It's worth every penny." You sighed, feeling his words wash over you like a warm bath.

You spent the rest of the day window shopping and enjoying each other's company. Every now and then, Tom would stop you and ask what you thought of something, or if there was anything you wanted to try on. He was so attentive and considerate that it made your heart swell with love. As the sun began to set, you decided it was time to head home. You were both exhausted from all the walking and shopping, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment and fulfillment.

On the drive home, you rested your head against Tom's shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. He glanced over at you, a soft smile on his lips. "You know, you don't have to thank me for everything. I'm just happy to be here with you." You reached over and squeezed his hand. "Well, I am very thankful. You've made today so special." He blushed again and looked away, clearly not used to such praise. "Well, I'm glad. I just wanted to make you happy." You leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips. As the car pulled into your driveway, you couldn't wait to get home and show him just how much you appreciated everything he'd done.

You practically skipped up to your front door, your arms overflowing with shopping bags. Tom followed behind you, chuckling at your excitement. Once you were inside, you set everything down on the kitchen counter and turned to face him, your heart racing. "Tom, there's something I want to do." He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I want to show you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me today." Without further ado, you led him by the hand into the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

Your heart was pounding as you turned to face him, your lips just inches from his. "You've been so amazing today," you whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "I want to show you how much I care about you." He leaned in, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss that quickly deepened. His hands ran through your hair, pulling you closer as your bodies pressed against each other. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel the desire building within you both.

With each passing moment, your need for him grew more urgent. You unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his chest, smooth and warm beneath your fingers. He moaned softly as you explored him, his hands moving to your hips, urging you closer. You felt the heat of his breath on your neck as he nipped at your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't wait any longer; you needed to feel him inside you. You undid his pants and helped him out of them, revealing his arousal, already straining against his boxers.

You reached down and wrapped your hand around him, stroking him gently at first, then with more urgency as he moaned loudly, his hips bucking into your touch. "God, baby," he whispered hoarsely, "I want you." You smiled, pulling his boxers down to free him completely. He was already hard and ready for you, and you couldn't wait any longer. You knelt before him, taking him in your mouth, running your tongue along the length of him. He let out a groan so deep it vibrated through your body, his hands threading through your hair as he held you close.

You bobbed your head, sucking and licking him, feeling him grow harder and more demanding in your mouth. You could taste the saltiness of his skin, the sweetness of him, and it only made you want more. You glanced up at him as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, feeling him grow even bigger, pushing against the back of your throat. His eyes were closed, his face flushed, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. You knew you were driving him wild, and it only made you want to please him more.

You stood up, positioning yourself over him, guiding him inside you. He groaned as he filled you, his hips pressing forward, driving himself deeper. You arched your back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, feeling the strength and power of him as he moved inside you. Your bodies moved together in perfect sync, their rhythm becoming faster and more urgent. He kissed you, his tongue dancing with yours, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you up and down on him.

As your orgasm built, you could feel your muscles tightening around him, pulling him deeper, and he responded with a growl, thrusting harder, faster. The sensation was almost too much to bear, but you wanted it, needed it. Your climax crashed over you in a wave of pure pleasure, your body shuddering with release as you cried out his name. He followed you over the edge, his thrusts becoming more frantic, his cries muffled against your neck.

As your breathing began to steady, you collapsed against him, feeling his weight and warmth envelop you. He held you close, kissing your neck and shoulders, his hands running up and down your back, soothing and comforting you. You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment and love wash over you as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. Tom had made today so special, and you knew that this was only the beginning of many more wonderful memories to come.

You felt his cock twitch inside you, and you smiled against his chest, knowing that he was still caught up in the moment. "Are you okay, baby?" you whispered, looking up at him. He met your gaze and smiled back, his brown eyes filled with love and desire. "I'm perfect," he replied, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you, you know that?" You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you nodded, wrapping your arms around him tighter. "I love you too, Tom."

Taglist: @madzandmore @20doozers @tomkaulitzloverr

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #tokiohotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x y/n #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #itsmealaiah

[theloveinc]

imagine no quirk free loader touya getting ready in ur cute little bedroom sitting at ur vanity.. yeah 🫶🏾

It's sweet because nothing in your room looks like anything that would suit him, nor like anything he'd enjoy being surrounded by. White sheets, satin pillows, bright lamps to illuminate every corner... aside from not really liking to look at himself under such unforgiving lights (meaning his scars are visible and the pores of his skin, open), the aesthetic itself is just all wrong.

Everything about Dabi is... hard, and dark; he's always dressed in leather and canvas, stiff, workers' materials and dirty shoes meant to last (unlike your more delicate garments, needing to be washed on delicate, under cold, and then air-dryed to top it all off)

Yet, he doesn't seemed bothered by the white marble of your vanity, nor sitting on your pale pink, velour-upholstered stool. He's grumpy and kicks up a fuss about waiting for you to get dressed, but he's surprisingly not... impatient, at least, not impatient enough to actually stop waiting for you.

(He entertains himself mostly by making faces at himself in the mirror: sticking out his tongue, pulling down his eyes, pushing up his nose trying to get your attention ... and he purs like a cat when it works and you come over to brush his eyebrows with your little makeup spoolies or coat his waterline with dark, liquid eyeliner, maybe even get your lipgloss all over his lips when you kiss him... which he licks off and is surprised it's sweet.

you tell him it's blueberry flavor for your favorite blueberry boy and he can't stop himself from grinning like a little boy)

Yes, your friends definitely poke a little bit of fun at you for your broke boyfriend; Dabi picks you up from your brunch date with them and embarrassingly eats up everyone's leftovers before they have a chance to ask for a box ... but you honestly think (aside from the way he finished your best friend's mimosa and licked the runny egg off another's plate) he's actually not half bad <3

#dabi #wowwwwww i love him i hope u love him too #fyi dabi is touya i just describe him as dabi bc only ur allowed to call him that #to everyone else he's dabs... so it's more special when you're yelling TOUYA across the house bc he stole your shower cap #he's so ASDKJLFHAJJK NAJK #but he's a softie #I'M THINKING of that tik tok audio that's like 'i'll have the steak... smothered with onions... and...' #you mouth to your friends 'don't worry i'll reimburse' #what a guy #he brings u treats tho sometimes #caitie things #gen #anon

[ourolite2]

⬭ 𓈒  ݁ mise en scène   alhaitham + black ( chubby afab ) reader. one-shot coded! nsfw/smut. written in third person, male oral, sarcastic usage of "princess", switch! reader, dom! alhaitham, cock-warming, brat/brat tamer coded, lowkey bunny coded reader too, impact play, implied dacryphilia, edging, orgasm denial, slight degradation, not-so-slight condescension, overstim + sleepy aftercare fluff.

"𝒞'mon, babe." An annoyed tone overtook that of what was meant to be sultry, as Alhaitham glanced along another paragraph in his book while resting along the upper part of the grandiose bed, while his persistent lover eyed him from below. Her ass wiggled and bounced behind her like a cat prepared to pounce as she pressed him with redundant queries and testy teases. "Read my movements instead, hmm? Them pages ain't finna make you cum, you know that... Tuh.. Do you know that?"

Not caring much for a response to her question (particularly because she knew her boyfriend wouldn't grant her one), Y/n's plump, mocha lips resumed wrapping around the rose resembling tip, tasting his unasked-for arousal coat her tongue and pool at her throat as she filled herself to the brim with his warmth. Her cheeks sealed his sensitivity tight in her mouth like a butterfly in a honey trap, adding onto the analogy as she watched his fingers flutter across the next page of his book like fragile wings, knowing the rest of him was just as delicate and immobilized, despite his overall silence.

Randomized grunts of overwhelm were the only responses audible, though poorly disguised to be those of annoyance and inconvenience as Y/n restricted the lower space of his dick, squeezing and stroking around the supple skin and it's pulsating interior with her velour-like palm. Meanwhile her other hand trickled inchmeal up his thigh and trailed leisurely along his abdomen. The happy trail there tickled her fingers a bit, causing her to giggle with her mouth full, inevitably causing her two clement, cherubic cheeks to reverberate around the sage's repetitive twitches and innate jumps and shoves.

By now, it's evident that he's not processing a thing in this book, deduced by the slight part of his lips and the gentle pant relieving itself between them with every suck and squeeze she pressures him to undergo. The covers are nearly closed front to back and drifting out of his grip, likely willingly, but of course he has that uselessly immovable nature of his. Indurated in his dick as much as his head, he'd rather lift the book back up and pretend to still peruse his useless passages than pay praise or even scrutiny to Y/n, even knowing he could cum within the next three minutes. The man still dares to have the imprudence to utter meaningless teases in a scenario that should have him speechless and writhing.

"Expecting desperation from me only shows what you're trying to hide about yourself, princess." That sobriquet. Sarcasm or not... God, isn't he so attentive. Y/n hums around him, feeling that warm, sweet ache between her own pudgy thighs increase and leak between her brown lips. She's straight to the point in proving him right, huh? Needs more so much to the point where she's humping into that longing sensation ever so gently, not wanting to lose too much composure. Though such is merely fanciful as she begins senselessly imagining Alhaitham's two fingers poking her cute new panties to the side, prodding her sticky folds apart, and then rubbing ringlet motions over her pretty, puffy clit until she's squirming for release.

Her body takes more initiative than her literacy will allow her as she detaches from his sloppily glossed and veined dick, giggling so preciously as she crawls up toward Alhaitham and his fabricated glout. Leaning near his neck and taking hold of his book in the most grabby, demanding manner, Y/n tosses the band of papers and ink to the floor before moving his iconic headphones to his neck, resting the set out of the way as her lips graced the shell of his ear in a ticklish tone. "M' I desperate, smartie? That's it? Then if you're sure that's the case don't have me waitin' on you."

Judging by the way his model of a lover slips her own panties to the side in preparation, she's apparently taking it upon herself to decline seeking succor in patience and pleading. Aligning his blushed tip at her panting, slippery lips, Y/n lubricates his peachy skin with squelches and smacks from the pent up arousal dribbling helplessly toward her outer folds. "Since I need to continue my research, and vexing you will only be a hindrance to my progress, I guess as the Acting Grand Sage.." His mind swirled briefly around warm sin and temptation as he spoke, chuckling between a pause as he sunk his warm palms and spread fingers into her squishy love handles. Her aroma is as intoxicating as forbidden flowers on a Sunday morning, and that sweet delicacy her body owns is like putty in his hands. How could he not ponder over how bendable, mendable and breakable she must be under his influence? "Despite my busy schedule, I'll have to fit you in."

The tip licks along her soaked pussy, barely spreading it open as he takes his time to her obvious displeasure, before delving into her clenching hole and stroking himself into her with a firm hold on her hips, as if he's simply using her to beat his dick at whatever pace he prefers. However, Y/n has had him pent up for hours at work before, so he's really not so conveniently persuaded to indulge in her antics at the drop of a thigh garter. In actuality, he'll claim that he's doing this in order to shut her up, rather than for his own pleasure. In spite of this, he's beyond aware that she'll only become more of a drooling, huffing, blubbering show, yet he forces her up and down quicker and quicker, causing the saliva at the corner of her mouth to trail down her cheeks which jiggle so adorably with every bounce, matching the look of the rest of her rubenesque figure.

"S' better than a book, baby? Me? Yeah? Mhm?" Her voice is disrupted with irregular breaths and muttered fuck's, and drenched with the mellifluous taste of honey. It rolls so sweetly off the tongue that she just can't seem to shut the fuck up, and if she were to do so Alhaitham wasn't sure if he would be more pleased or distressed. She's so fucking tight around him, taking it upon herself to clench when she needs not and to run her hips in a circle to deepen the uncharacteristically ruby tinge on the tip of his nose and surely the entire head of his dick. It's pushing so deep, as if with every plunge she feels the warmth in her clit and her lips and her walls excel. So stimulated and torrid and glistening in speckles of sweat down her breasts, upon her neck, behind her knees-- it's as if she's already drenched, already full, already close. "Tell me I'm all you- fuck.. Fuck me- close! Baby, Alhai, m' need you, pl- fuck. Deep-deeper-!"

"Rarely a challenge, so I'm not surprised.." Aware of Y/n’s delirium and failure to remain coherent, he forces her into place on his lap, pulling her in deeper the more she gyrates around him in resistance. She’s still wiggling and whining, but his voice gives her goosebumps when he leans beside her ear to inquire on what she’ll do the next time he’s occupied. It's vital that Y/n answers. Alas, she’s stubborn.

He lands a smack to her ass as she replies with fidgety insolence: “Fuck you, fuck me, like this-,” She rotates her hips to demonstrate before beginning to hump forward and back due to her puffy, under-stimulated clit. “-Like this, like that, right.. right there.” Leaning over Alhaitham’s shoulder to catch her breath erratically right beside his ear is as draining as it sounds, not to mention the squelches and smacks coming from between her thighs. With every writhing motion the friction of her thighs, let alone the feeling of her ass plopping and slapping incessantly, is enough to make a grown man groan. At least it should be.

Rather than desperation, he’ll hit her ass again, rolling his neck slightly to relieve its stiffness and ease his impatience, as she muffled a whine in response. Inquiring on what the fuck he’s testing her for, Y/n pouts slightly while being expected to maintain eye contact with him, rather than complain and roll her eyes over the increased sting still permeating.

“Is the princess going to pout now? I’m sure I can exonerate your temperament problems if you can choose your next words carefully.” He speaks with ease, disregarding the discomfort of Y/n's position as his lover pulsates helplessly around him. He knows his words only enhance her agitation and poked out lip and puffed out cheeks as she clenches more than she'd likely admit. She's gripping onto his shoulders and contemplating wrapping her hands around his neck as she mumbles a curse and half an insult in response, followed by yet another spank. And another.. and another, and another, until her eyes are watering, until her eyelashes are fluttering, until one more hit could have tears dripping along those chubby little cheeks of hers. Holding her chin up with his thumb and forefinger to observe her sniveling, slobber-lipped face, Alhaitham- the 'sweetheart'- grants her the courtesy of wiping the drool away as it kisses the underside of her pretty, fat, carob hued lips. Though, it'd be sinfully uncharacteristic of him to hold any kindness and patience any higher than necessary, so he threatens her with what no bratty beloved wants to hear. "Hmm. You've had many poor attempts at behaving today.. Rather than lacing my words with rhetoric, I prefer speaking factually. I guess.. I just won't be able to reward you."

Nearly immediately, Y/n gyrated incessantly in retort, clawing at his shoulders while his fingers still held up her quivering lips and wrinkled chin. Due to his hands' proximity to her face, he found no other solution but to bluntly tap her cheek twice with the back of his hand. Though, when this didn't work, he pulled her off of him and slammed her back inside, allowing the impact to demonstrate what friction she's reprimanding for herself if she continues. Still having little to say in return to him, he strings along more words to chime through her fuzzy, hot little head instead. "On the topic of speaking factually, it's painfully clear that you're doing this because you enjoy being degraded and tamed. However, when your defiance starts to bore me, I'll just find something else to mess with, since you're obviously capable of fixing this yourself."

"So mean to me, Alhai.." She whines, sniveling more than before as her arousal leaks around him, still warm and suffocating- if not more than before. "Wanna be good, okay? I'll--" Amid her breathy claims, a trail of warning taps reverberate against her ass, followed by much harsher, louder smacks the more she whined and attempted to speak in between each landing. His hand was out of view behind her, but from the sting against his palm he knew it was less palid than rose-related. The only thing stopping her skin from being the same of course was the naturally deeper shade, though this couldn't eliminate the intensity of the aftermath. She attempts to ask what she did wrong through choked moans and apologetic sobs, and he's placidly alacritous to give her a reason.

"Didn't ask you if you'd be 'good', that's subjective to your definition of 'good'. What will Y/n do the next time the Acting Grand Sage is busy?"

Her mind and body are too overrun and overheated to think of a means to answer mistakenly; too dolorous and defiled to notice that she's begging him between her compliance to not interrupt him again. Words slurred with another trail of drool which Alhaitham doesn't bother wiping away, since it's already leaking against her bouncing tits and open neck as he begins fucking into her. A thrust more, quicker with every apology and plea, with every moan and whine and sign of gratitude. "Thank you, baby, thank you, thank you.. Fuck. S' good to me, s' much- fucking much-"

Squeezing him so tight, she can't help it. Making a mess on his thighs, coating a soapy white ring of cum around him- who's to say whose it belongs to? Perhaps it's self-explanatory; the head is dribbling and drooling with excessive pre-cum, rubbing off all over her gummy walls, provoking twitches to correlate with the heightened frequency of clenches and throbs from her pretty pussy. Can't keep it in, she knows that familiar warmth building at her clit and starting deep inside is so close to releasing, and Alhaitham doesn't take it as a deterrent to ease up, but as a motive to speed up. "This.. is a lot. You'll have to.. take it." His breaths interrupt him, followed by light groans, and that's what brings her over the fucking edge.

Convulsing and clenching, Y/n can't keep either of her fat fucking lips closed- not the ones dabbled in drool or the ones drenched in cum. She's begging him to slow down, feeling the orgasm overrun itself with pleasure and numb her walls and weaken her body. So relieved and exhausted, princess is still exerting broken, mellifluous noises from her tainted little mouth, which still has the taste of Alhaitham's dick residing within it. Does he care?

"Look at you. Proving yourself useful." He patronizingly compliments Y/n in her fucked out state, knowing she's hardly processing anything as his twitches and warm cum use your hole as he nears his own climax. He's so much more intense now. He's being selfish and inconsiderate, bucking his hips so harshly knowing you can barely manage any penetration at all in your state. The last thing he needed to hear was you whining and begging him to hurry up and cum, even demanding him to cum inside as to give your aching pussy a break as soon as possible. Baby, how could he say no? Rather, how could he stop himself? A trail of focused grunts muffle themselves in the crook of your neck as he feels himself finish; the warmth of his arousal rushing inside where it belongs, before leaking out due to you being too full to hold any more of him.

"That's a good girl." Y/n's head rested against Alhaitham's rising and falling chest as he complimented her once again, though she had become fatigued and hardly able to speak with her now sore throat. So much begging and retorting came at a price. Despite her exhaustion, she begins to roll off of him, awaiting the usual mutual aftercare and such, though he physically denies her procedure. Rather, he holds her steady and places his heavy hand on her head, silently gesturing her to stay close to him a while longer. "I'd like to avoid any disruptions, I still have three sections to review. Rest now.. if you move anywhere else I'll be prompted to clean up the mess immediately." As he states this, Alhaitham gently turns to reach for his book, then whirles the pages toward the back of it as Y/n sighs against him and her breathing slows. He's lucky she doesn't have the least bit of energy left to argue on why taking care of her should be his first priority.

However, once she's fast asleep, the scholar cuts his reading-time a chapter short so he may begin his hidden objectives amid her unconscious state.

Gently moving her body along its side, knowing his remaining arousal and hers are bound to begin leaking beyond her pudgy folds, he wipes his thighs clean with a cloth before using her personal feminine wipes to clean off her clit. Then the tighter areas on either side of her hole, and every other area where she's managed to soak with her own magnificence. If she were awake, Alhaitham knew he wouldn't be able to take his sweet time, or have a few moments of serene silence to cherish her without obtrusion or movement of any sort. He needed this time for himself; to listen to how soft she breathes, to leave delicate butterfly kisses along her belly pudge, pussy pudge and all her rolls. To smile as he analyzes her cellulite and her lighter brown stretch marks, and traces his fingers along her hip dips, only finishing the moment by whispering sweet secrets about how he feels about her. Ones which he'd be too self-conscious and vulnerable to utter in even her presence without a slight alcohol intake as a means of excuse. Yet still, he's aware she already understands his emotions and his behavior, she somehow always knows what he's truly thinking and feeling; none of it is logical. Realistically, he can't fully compute why he behaves so secretive and shy about this himself, other than the cliche observation: love.

Well, she is the one he adores more than all under the sun and moon. His adored and adoring, no matter the amount of banter and brazen sarcasm they torture one another with through morning coffee and bed-time routines. As he slides on her favorite, stretchy shorts and ties a bow on the side of her now-secured bonnet (he found the side bow to be incredibly more adorable), Alhaitham kisses her forehead and cheeks in another attempt to show how much he loves her, wondering if it'll translate in her dreams. Words often fall short, he knows, and perhaps that's why he's not so sensitive with how he uses them, but his actions will never falter in showing how much devotion he holds for her.

Sliding beneath the emerald and aureate sheets of their shared bed, the man can't help but chuckle from knowing how Y/n's certain to complain in the morning, only before realizing she in fact was taken care of, with his book still rightfully neglected. "It's every day with you, isn't it, princess?" Before nodding off in dreamy thoughts and an uncharacteristically reminiscent imagination, her beloved finally dims the light and rolls on his own side, knowing he'll be playing fox and bunny once again with her tomorrow, and forevermore.

⑅ leman productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

#/ᐠ. .ᐟ\ ฅ lemanwrites. #𝘮𝘶𝘢𝘩.ᐟ #alhaitham #al haitam x reader #al haithem #al haitham x y/n #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x female reader #alhaitham x black reader #alhaitham smut #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham headcanons #al haitham #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham genshin #genshin alhaitham #genshin al haitham #genshin scenarios #genshin smut #genshin nsft #genshin x black y/n #alhaitham hcs #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots

[bellofthemeadow]

Summer of '03 | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlists, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: You finally arrive in Texas, a world so different from your home in New York. You find that living next door is a man who confuses you. You can't figure out if he's just a stereotipically angry Redneck or the man of your dreams. Ah well, you've got the summer to figure the puzzle that is Joel Miller.

Notes: Hello everyone, welcome to my new story :D This one is going to be quite different from my last story as I am delving into the realm of enemies to lovers! I am so excited as I don't think that any other PedroBoys fits the bill las well as Joel Miller!!! LMK what you think of it, I always love to read what you think of my work and I would also be really stoke to speak with all of you.

I am also working on a taglist at present, so I should make a post probably tomorrow, so if you want to be added to the tagged post, let me know and I'll be happy to add you!

Hope you all enjoy :D

Welcome to Texas

Apparently, your entire life fits neatly into an 8x6 cardboard box, which is somewhat embarrassing. When you made the spontaneous decision to uproot your life and leave New York, little did you know that packing would only take 25 minutes and leave you with so little. However, every item inside that box was a testament to your independence. You had purchased each item with your hard-earned money, not relying on your parents or receiving them as gifts from an ex-boyfriend. Every single thing inside that box was truly yours.

As you set down the box in front of the small suburban house, you squint your eyes taking in your new home for the foreseeable future. You had to admit, it had a certain charm that you found refreshing. The tiny house was a stark contrast to the high-rise condo your family had in New York or the overly opulent summer home in the Hamptons where you’d spend your summer. This place felt nice and quaint, exuding a sense of simplicity that you were craving. The row of houses boasted a similar style, either one or two floors tall, constructed with reddish-coloured brick. The driveways were impressively large, accommodating even bigger trucks. It really does seem like 'everything is bigger in Texas'.

Everything about this neighbourhood screamed quiet suburbia. Since it was still early afternoon on a Sunday, you spied some kids zooming down the street on their bikes like a wild bunch of Tasmanian devils, while a cluster of older ladies powerwalked on the sidewalk and seemed deeply engrossed in their gossip. The sight made you chuckle, they kind of looked like a swarm of salmon with their pink velour tracksuit. You were kind of impressed. In this heat, the only thing you wanted to do was lie down on the cold floor for at least two hours or stick your head in the freezer for a minute—the jury was still out. But that was probably because of your New Yorker sensibilities. Most of the people you spotted going about their day seemed completely unfazed by what you would categorize as temperature from at least the 4th circle of hell.

You sighed and put your arms high above your head, interlacing your fingers and giving your back a much-needed stretch. As depressing as the sight of the lone cardboard box holding your entire life was, you were glad that you didn't have a lot of stuff to take with you from New York. The drive had been almost unbearable. As a New Yorker, you didn't have many opportunities to drive that often, and this trip had actually been the first time you had driven your brand-new Alfa Romeo GT. It was a Christmas gift from your grandma, chosen for both sentimental and practical reasons, and you decided to take it with you as you up hauled your life to literally the other end of the country.

No one in your family had understood why you wanted, no, needed to leave, except for Granny Mabel. While your parents scolded you as if you were still a pigtailed little girl, timidly requesting seconds at dinner, Granny Mabel simply glanced at you, winking beneath her oversized Givenchy glasses, as she took a generous sip of her red wine. In that fleeting moment, you knew that no matter what unfolded, you would have the approval of the lionesses of New York’s Upper East Side.

But after what felt like three days of almost non-stop driving, you were ready to declare that you didn't even want to look at your car for at least a week. You felt like you had your share of driving to last you a lifetime. Although you knew that wouldn’t really be possible. After all, Texas was not known for the same kind of public transportation as New York. Ah well, when in Rome—or in this case, Texas.

As a few neighbours started to cast curious glances your way, you became aware of the possibility that loitering around an empty porch on an early Sunday afternoon might raise suspicions. You opened your handbag and rummaged through it, moving aside packages of half-eaten candy bars, a couple of lipsticks, emergency wet wipes, and tampons before you finally found the paper your friend Robbie had given you before you left three days ago.

Scrawled in your friend's messy chicken scratch, were an address and a name: "Joel Miller." Beneath it, a hasty note explained, "Joel was Great Aunt Ruth's neighbour. He was helping her with the property ever since he and his daughter moved in next door. We asked him to hold onto the keys until someone could come to take care of the house after Aunt Ruth passed away. Joel knows you're coming. Take care, my dear, and I'll miss you. New York won't be the same without your judgy ass!"

A smile spread across your face as you read the words. Robbie had been the most important part of your life in New York. You both met during your first year of college. You were studying pre-med, while he pursued performing arts at NYU, dreaming of a future on Broadway. Instantly, you connected with each other. Despite your family's legacy of surgeons, you had always yearned to be on the stage. So, in your first year, you took a theatre elective and met Robbie. The two of you became inseparable. His apartment in Brooklyn provided a refuge from the suffocation you felt at home, and you ended up spending most nights there. By the fourth month of your friendship, you even started contributing to some of the utilities, although Robbie insisted you didn't have to. But you didn't mind. Your parents had money, and you used a lot of hot water, so it was the least you could do.

And now, here you were, on the other side of the country, ready to take a break and maybe have some fun! You silently prayed to any gods out there, hoping they would listen and guide you toward figuring out what you truly wanted in your life. Happiness seemed to be slipping away with each passing day, and you hoped this summer would bring some clarity. You looked back down at the piece of paper, making a mental note to call Robbie once you got inside the house to thank him and reassure him that you were alive after that long trip.

For now, you needed to escape the scorching heat before you melted away. Your hair was beyond recognizable because of the frizz humidity brought out, and sweat patches were forming under your armpits. You cringed at the situation but tried to reassure your growing anxiety: "Who cares what Joel Miller thinks? You thought. You've been through more embarrassing moments than being sweaty in front of a middle-aged dad." Memories of laugh-snorting vodka cranberry all over your crush Colin Robertson's shirt at a post-finals party two years ago came rushing back. You were convinced you had permanently stained his favourite white Lacoste polo with cranberry, judging by the disdainful looks he had given you ever since. So, dealing with a middle-aged redneck should be a breeze in comparison.

You hurriedly made your way to the neighbouring house, desperately hoping that Joel Miller would be there. The thought of being stuck outside indefinitely made you want to cry. You tugged at your jean shorts, which clung uncomfortably to your sweaty thighs, and adjusted your oversized "1991 - Walt Disney" t-shirt, a hand-me-down from your older brother. You tied it in a knot at the front, revealing a sliver of midriff. It dawned on you that you needed to buy more weather-appropriate clothes—an item added to your ever-growing to-do list.

As you stood in front of Joel Miller's house, you hesitated. What if Robbie had forgotten to inform him about your visit? Would Joel think you were some kind of psychopath? He’d definitely think you were a little crazy. Taking a deep breath, you firmly knocked on the wooden front door. When, after a solid minute, there was no response, a sinking feeling of disappointment washed over you, suggesting that Joel Miller might not be home after all. You decided to try ringing the doorbell—once, twice. As you debated whether to attempt a third ring or call Robbie, you heard noises from behind the door, followed by a loud exclamation, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, give me a minute!"

You felt yourself turning pale, and you began fidgeting with your rings, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to happen next. The door was ripped open, and your temperature skyrocketed as you faced the man in front of you. Joel Miller was... not what you expected. He loomed before you, tall and imposing, with a mess of dishevelled brown hair crowning his head. What you first noticed was the broadness of his shoulders, it made your mouth go dry as you started to imagine what it would feel like to hold these shoulders in the throws of passion. You could almost picture yourself under him, naked and sweaty, holding unto him and leaving kitten scratches on his powerful back. Your eyes started to take the man in front of you, he was clad in low-hanging sweatpants, his powerful thighs and defined waistline were accentuated. Your gaze was transfixed on him, unable to look away. You were certain you spotted what had to be an impressive bulge in the front of his thin pants and you wanted nothing more than the check if he was as well endowed as he seemed to be. Joel Miller was a man unlike any you had encountered before, emanating a potent blend of masculine confidence and ruggedly handsome charm. You felt insignificant and childlike in your own outfit. What would he think of your sweat-soaked Disney shirt, your perspiring face, and your overall dishevelled appearance? You wished you could rewind time and change into one of your nice little baby-doll dresses, the one that deliciously played on innocence and sinful seduction, you always felt your most confident in them. At least, you wished you had freshened up before meeting this man. Your mother had always emphasized the importance of first impressions, and now, as you observed the fury in his warm brown eyes, it seemed like you had utterly shattered any chance of making a favourable first impression.

The deep baritone of his voice snapped you out of your reverie, as he demanded, "Who the hell are you?" You stammered, "Ehh, I am so sorry to bother you..."

"You better not tell me you some kinda salesman? 'Cause if ya woke me up from the only full sleep I’ve had in two weeks to sell me some bullshit air conditioning, Imma get real fuckin' mad!” You gulp and squirm under his angry stare. "I reckon the appropriate term is salespeople, to be inclusive, you know." Your voice squeaks in an embarrassing sound. What the hell was wrong with you? You weren't some kind of shrinking violet, but at this moment, under Joel Miller's hard stare, you felt like dying. Or at least digging a hole and hiding inside.

"I am really sorry to bother you, Mr. Miller," you try to muster a modicum of confidence, "I am a friend of Robbie Levitt." When Joel's face remained impassive, you felt like it was his permission to keep going. "He is… was Ruth Kaplan's nephew… ehh, the lady who lived…"

"I know who Mrs. Kaplan is," Joel Miller cuts you off and stares at you, squinting his eyes. "You that rich kid from New York?" You feel yourself groan inside, fucking Robbie babbling about your business to everyone. As much as you loved the guy, he was a complete gossip. You simply nod your head, feeling quite unable to say anything, completely tongue-tied.

"You’re late," Joel Miller's words are biting and sharp, and they are cutting into you, making you feel small and childish. "Late for... what? I'm not sure I follow," you say softly.

Joel Miller sighs loudly and shakes his head. "That Levitt kid told me you'd be here yesterday evening, waited late for you to come around, princess." You feel yourself grow even hotter, either from the embarrassment of seeming flaky or from the nickname; you aren't sure yet.

"Oh," you softly say. "I am sorry, I didn't realize. Robbie just said to be here over the weekend. I didn't realize you'd wait for me."

"So , what? You thought that because you some kind of rich important lady from the city you could waste my time? ‘Cause I’m just some redneck contractor from Texas, right? Who cares if you waste everyone’s time, imma right?” His stare is hard and you don’t know what to do or say without making him even more mad. “It’s not like that, I never thought… I am really sorry.” You settle for, thinking it’s your best bet so as to not antagonize him further.

A low growl, “It's fine," he responds curtly and abruptly. It doesn’t sound fine; you think as he looks like he is 5 seconds away from slamming the door in your face. But my god, everything about this man is hard, his words, his face… his body. You don't know if you should love it or hate it, but as your eyes fall to his hard pectorals you feel yourself falling into the former category. "Wait here." He disappears inside his house before returning with a set of keys he promptly drops into your hands. "Here you go."

"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Miller. And I am really sorry again about last night… And for waking you up and everything" You cringe as a dismissive twitch of the head serves as his feeble reply. As you pivot away, trudging along in a pitiful display of humiliation toward Ruth's house, the air fills with Joel Miller’s deep voice once again “Here's a life tip, sweetheart. When someone doesn't answer the door, maybe ya need to take a hint. Not all of us can afford endless days off or live in a rent-free house. Some of us have real jobs, princess, and those of us that do appreciate every bit of peace we can get.”

You feel like crying, tears gathering up in your eyes, but you won't let them fall. You won't give Joel Miller the satisfaction of knowing that he made you cry. So, you settle, "Sure... I apologize for everything. I didn't mean to be a bother." No answer, so you take it as your cue to leave, feeling dismissed like a child at school.

You turn around and try to muster your best fake smile, the same one you used for your mother and father and give a little wave. "Hope you can get back to sleep soon. I'll make sure to not be in your way again." And you scurry away as fast as your legs can.

Summer of fun and discovery is off to a great start, you think sarcastically, as you rip Aunty Ruth’s door open and let the tears fall. Goddamn it, why did you have to antagonize the most handsome man you'd ever seen in your entire life? Joel Miller, you think. You should despise him. He was unnecessarily mean and condescending. Sure, you had been in the way, but how were you to know he would be sleeping at 1 pm on a Sunday? You groan, at this point anyway, he probably loathed you. Yet, strangely enough, you had never encountered a man who could twist your insides as intensely as he did. In the 5 minutes conversion you had with him, you felt your inside growing hot and your belly erupting in a million of butterflies. You wonder what his eyes would be like if they weren’t hard and angry. They were brown and warm, so you imagined how they would feel raking over your skin with longing or desire. Yeah, that’s not going to happen, you think as your mind cringes back to the awful words he said.  

Joel Miller. Even the mere sound of his name left a strong, lingering flavour in your mouth. You squirm, feeling conflicted, not knowing whether to yearn for his strong domineering presence or simply try your best to avoid him like the plague this summer. You shake your head, you'll sort out your feelings, or whatever hormones this man triggered, later. Right now, you just need to find the damn freezer and try to cool down. However, after meeting Joel Miller, you're well aware that the fire inside you will continue to burn hard for some time.

Next Chapter

#tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #tlou hbo #tlou series #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrohub #pedro pascal characters #pedro boys #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal

[imaginedreamwrite]

I couldn’t help it, I had to get it out of my head

You wish you could’ve slipped out before they saw each other, or at the very least before he had seen you. You wished you could’ve bowed out and fled the party before Hayden noticed you from across the room and decided to come over but by then it was too late.

With a drink in your hand and nowhere to run you were trapped. You were trapped by the weight of his eyes and the hard edge of the bar, trapped by his curiosity over how you got into a place like this. And why you, someone who was heading for a nanny job he didn’t approve of, was wearing what you were.

“Y/N?” He spoke your name like a question, coming to stand beer you with his own drink in hand. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your glass to your lips and down the alcohol, wincing as it burns your throat and you find yourself holding in a cough. You don’t know what to say to him, you don’t know how to explain yourself being in this exclusive clubhouse wearing a $5,000 dress while your boss is dealing with some of Hayden’s fathers friends.

“I’m…” you smooth down the velour, becoming increasingly hyper aware of how tightly fitting this dress was to your body. “I’m here with my…boss.”

Your boss, even as you speak the title you can feel him. You can feel his eyes on you and your skin prickles when he begins to come toward you, both predatory awareness and sparking desire accosting you. You know, with absolute truth, that Curtis and Hayden are going to meet.

And you really wished you could’ve run.

“Y/N, I-” Hayden reaches for you, he places his hand on you, and so does Curtis.

“Mousey,” Curtis speaks with an unwavering manner of calmness though the husk in his voice sends shivers down your spine, “finished your drink already?”

“Y/N, your boss is Curtis Everett?” Its the way Hayden eyes Curtis up that has you giggling nervously, scrambling to set your glass down and yank Curtis out of there. “Do you have any idea what-”

“Choose your next words wisely, boy.” The weight of Curtis arm becomes heavier as he yanks your back to his chest. “You’re not that untouchable.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me. You’re a nanny for Everett?” Hayden seems incredulous, his eyes narrowing and his attention drawn to Curtis’ arm around your waist.

“This is the ex-boyfriend you’ve told me about. The limp dick-”

“I never said that!” Your voice squeaks, it cracks as you wiggle against his chest, trying to free yourself. “I never said-”

“Do you need help? Are you in trouble? Y/N if you need money-”

“I told you to watch your fucking mouth, boy.” Its the way Curtis snarks that has you freezing like a doe in headlights, your body entirely complacent when his level of protective instincts, possessive even, counteracts Hayden’s condescension.

“She’s not your friend, she’s not your girlfriend and she doesn’t need you to save her-”

“You’re obviously doing something-” they faced off each other, the naturally born rich and the made man who many in the party feared.

“Curtis please-” you pleaded with him, begging him not to start something.

“The only thing I’m doing you cocky little rich shit,” Curtis’s arm fell from your waist and he placed a hand on your stomach, angling himself between you and Hayden, “is getting the money your daddy’s rich friends owe me. Whatever else I do is none of your fucking business especially when it comes to my girl. You understand me?”

“You’re dating him?” Hayden seemed off-put, possibly even disturbed by the notion. “You’re really one of those women sleeping your way to the top?”

“Curtis-!” You hissed, tugging on his hand in desperation.

“This will be the last time I show you patience,” Curtis pushed Hayden’s glass into his chest, a warning and a vow falling from Curtis’ lips, “speak to her like that again, and the next party these rich fuckers attend will be your funeral.”

He let it linger in the air, he let the threat hang around and then Curtis turned back toward you. He held you protectively again, leading you from the bar and toward the exit of the venue, his fingers digging into your side.

“I-”

“Not a word, mousey.” Curtis only spoke to open the passengers side door of his vehicle for you, though you knew there would be a conversation later.

#biker!curtis #biker!curtis x nanny!reader #biker!curtis everett x reader #biker!curtis everett x nanny!reader #biker!curtis everett #a permanent claim series #a permanent claim drabble

[victorluvsalice]

Merry Christmas Squid/Cas!

@gaydragonwizards In keeping with your request to see the scene where Romero got a verbal slap upside the head from VV about how he's obviously in love with your OC Angeline from our VTMB RP/fanfics together...well, here's just that. XD Enjoy!

Mr. Oblivious

knock-knock – “Hey, Miss Velour?”

Romero leaned against the archway that lead into Velvet Velour’s inner sanctum in Vesuvius, watching as she straightened one of her posters. “Issac sent me over here,” he continued, allowing himself a nice long look at Velvet’s ass as he spoke. Fringe benefit of being Isaac Abram’s ghoul number one. . . “Said you needed something?”

Velvet turned slowly and sensually to face him, bright red lips curling in a smile that was – rather less friendly than he was used to. “Well well – if it isn’t Mr. Oblivious himself,” she said, sultry tone rather at odds with both her words and the sharp look she was giving him. “What I need, Romero, is for you to pull your head out of your rear.”

Romero blinked. Blinked again. “Uh – sorry, not following what you’re talking about here,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “What the hell did I do?”

“It’s more what you haven’t done,” Velvet replied, folding her arms across her ample chest. “Really, Romero – this long, and you still haven’t said those three little words?”

“. . .still not getting it.”

Velvet sighed. “Oh dear – Isaac said you were ignoring your own feelings, but he didn’t warn me how much. I thought for sure you had an inkling.”

“Nope,” Romero said, shaking his head. “Whatever you’re mad at me for, you’re gonna have to spell it out.” He smiled sheepishly, hoping to hold off a potential vampiric temper tantrum – Velvet wasn’t really the type, but. . .better safe than sorry. “Use small words.”

“All right then.” She leaned forward in what would have been a really distracting way if she hadn’t been hitting him with such a firm, scolding gaze. “You’re in love with Angeline, you dope.”

For the second time in less than five minutes, Romero found himself blinking rapidly. “Uh. . .I – I think you’ve got the wrong idea about us,” he said slowly, knowing that Velvet usually didn’t like being contradicted but unable to help himself. “We’re friends. With benefits.” He grinned. “Some pretty awesome benefits.”

“No, you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend, but neither of you seem to realize it,” Velvet retorted, rolling her eyes. “Isaac’s told me all about it – how much time you spend together, how you’re always talking about her, how you’ve been walking around with this extra little spring in your step. You’ve got it bad for the girl, and you won’t even acknowledge it!” She stepped forward and prodded him in the chest. “I know you’re not really one for romance, but surely even you can figure out when Cupid’s arrow has hit you?”

“I don’t – Angeline’s just – we’re friends!” Romero protested, glancing down at the finger and back. “Really!”

“Yes, and you ought to be something else too,” Velvet responded. “With roses and chocolates and fancy jewelry. And less gunplay.”

“Hey, Angeline likes the range.”

“All right, then at least give her flowers before you go!” Velvet shook her head. “You really think all you feel for her is friendship?”

“Yeah, I do!” Romero said, frowning. “Angeline’s awesome, I ain’t gonna say otherwise – she’s really smart, and super organized, and when you can get her to laugh she’s really fucking cute–”

“How do you not hear yourself right now?” Velvet cut in, expression both frustrated and deeply amused at the same time – Romero hadn’t been aware you could fit both emotions on the same face. “Really – how many of your other conquests have you said looked cute when they laugh?”

“Normally I’m hoping they don’t start cracking up when they see what’s downstairs,” Romero shot back. “But Angeline. . .okay, so we spend a lot of time together! She could use the company! And sure, I think she’s a hell of a looker, because she is! And I like talking to her, because she’s pretty interesting once you get get her to speak up, and I like making her smile because her whole face gets really glowy, and I like having her around because otherwise it’s just me and the TV and I end up really missing her when she’s not there, and – and. . .”

He paused. Thought for a second about what he’d just said. Then his face met his hand as he groaned. “Oh. Uh. Shit.”

Velvet laughed. “There we go,” she said, a teasing lilt to her voice as she slung an arm around his shoulders. “Now can we talk about how you should be getting her flowers?”

“. . .yeah, maybe.”

#gaydragonwizards #merry xmas #christmas fic #xmas fic #vtmb #fanfic #had some fun writing this one #it's amusing to see VV of all people being this snarky #but then again Romero rather deserves it #right up until the end XD #oh Romero you really thought you didn't have it bad #and yet XD #hope you like! #queued

[crypticsiren1]

Now I have 8 vtm girls, cosplayed by me ^___^ I’m so happy

Julia Sowinski had 2 photoshoots in general (first one in church inside, and second one outside (2 different churches), but still near the church and with Benoit who was cosplayed by my boyfriend~)

From VtM Bloodlines I cosplayed Velvet Velour, Damsel, Jeanette Voerman, Fem Brujah and Tremere protagonists.

Julia Sowinski from VtM Shadows of New York

Maia from VtM Bloodhunt

and Lucita de Aragon from VtM comics - Lucita

I still have plans for 2 girls till the end of the year :3

all photos can be found in my twitter gallery here https://twitter.com/cryptic_Siren

#vtm #vampire the masquerade #wod #world of darkness #toreador #velvet velour #vtmb #damsel #brujah #malkavian #jeanette voerman #tremere #maia #bloodhunt #maia bloodhunt #lucita de aragon #lasombra #julia sowinski #vtm sony #shadows of new york

[daegudrama]

Title: Route 613

Pairing: Reader/Namjoon, Reader/Yoongi, Reader/Vmin

Summary: Reader wants to be the very best Pokémon trainer there ever was. Her first stop in that journey is Paldea University home to a myriad of higher education. Still working to get over her ex boyfriend, Yoongi, reader forms new connections while making a few questionable decisions along the way. Each battle bringing her closer to the glory she's always dreamed of. Will she succeed in becoming champion or will outside forces stop her from achieving her goal?

Word Count: 8.5K

Disclaimer: Real life ages mean nothing in this fic. Refer here for ages and my shitty graphics

cross posted to ao3 here

1 3 4 5

Chapter 2

Hiyyih holds up a long red dress with a flowy skirt and rose detailing on the bodice turning towards you with an excited smile. She has been pulling more dresses for you than for herself. Her style is too different from what she thinks will look good on you. Even though you think she could put on any dress in this place and still look amazing.

The shop is fairly empty on this early Friday evening. Just a few customers browsing the racks of beautiful dresses. Hiyyih happily agreed to come with you saying she was in need of a new dress too. Professor Oak has invited her as well as a number of other students to attend the fall benefit. Seeing and interacting with the students the donors will help might encourage them to be more generous. At least that’s what Professor Oak thinks. He must know what he's talking about to have gotten this far. 

“I like that one, but let's find something for you.” 

You browse racks looking for darker colors to fit Hiyyih’s aesthetic. She has attended events like this one before, but didn’t think she would need this kind of dress at school. Who would’ve thought Professor Oak would end up here helping better the university? Dressing formally and trying to catch the attention of researchers certainly was not something you thought you would have to do here. 

Ten minutes later each of you have three dresses to try on. You aren’t thrilled with the first two when you see them on and you can tell Hiyyih agrees even when she says you look great. The last option is a burgundy floor length gown made of velour fabric with sequins that give it just the slightest shimmer. It has short off the shoulder sleeves with a boat style neckline that accentuates all the right places.

“Y/N, you have to get this one!” Hiyyih says, a serious look on her face. “No one is going to be able to keep their eyes off you.”

Your cheeks flush as you take in her words trying to believe she’s being genuine. Looking at yourself in the mirror you feel giddy with excitement. Confidence rushes through you while you spin loving the way the fabric swishes around you. 

Hiyyih walks into the dressing room to try on her first gown as you continue to smile at yourself in the mirror. You are thankful for the chance to get dressed up with reason. What you aren’t sure of is if the other members of the Oak’s Club are looking forward to it as much as you are. Jimin was the only one who looked interested when Professor Oak mentioned the dress code. He promised to make sure the other guys were properly dressed when the two of you had a moment alone. 

“Oh, Hiyyih!” Your eyes turn to your friend as she steps out in a floor length black gown with a plunging v-neck. The intricate beading and cut of the bodice remind you of feathers in a way. The detail continues down past her hips into the flowy skirt. “Absolutely, stunning.”

“You don’t think it’s too much?” She asks looking over her shoulder to see the back of the dress in the mirror.

“Not at all.” You reply, pulling out your phone to snap a picture of the two of you together. 

“This was a lot easier than I thought.” She says heading back to the changing room. You head to the other changing room reluctantly taking off the dress and redressing in your clothes. Hiyyih meets you at the cash register. “Do you want to take these back to the dorm then come back down? There’s still an hour until we meet the guys.”

“Yeah, let's do that.”

Hiyyih happily leads the way once you’ve both paid. You glance to the side at her while she starts telling you about her aunt’s dress shop back home. This is one of the first times she’s bought a dress because usually her aunt makes them for her. Around you the streets you are becoming familiar with are dimming with the setting of the sun. 

Every day this week you’ve spent time with Hiyyih and the two of you are quickly realizing how similar you are despite growing up on opposite sides of the region. There’s a deep level of understanding that makes you feel like you’ve known her for years rather than days. 

You join Hiyyih in her room to finish getting ready for your group dinner. Namjoon was adamant that you have to try this pho place he frequents. Apparently it’s the best he’s ever had. You think he felt weird asking you to come with just him so it turned into a group outing. Namjoon, Jimin, Chaewon and her girlfriend are also supposed to attend.

“Remember how I told you I asked my sister if she could come to the benefit?” Hiyyih asks, coating her lashes in mascara. You nod your head remembering she mentioned it a few days ago when the two of you were looking for trainers to battle in the woods. “Unfortunately, Lea already had a prior schedule that day. But she’s going to talk about it on her livestream tonight.”

“Really? That’s amazing! Your sister has followers all over the world.” 

Professor Oak and the research professors here will be thrilled to see one of their alumni helping such a cause. Lea has nearly two million followers on her main streaming platform and runs a bakery in her hometown focused on pokemon health and strength foods. In most of her live streams she is talking about pokémon health and foods that can help make your pokémon stronger. There are different ways she teaches this information. She’s fond of baking lives where viewers can watch her make things for the shop live. Sometimes she does sort of lecture style lives where she talks about specific topics. On rare occasions she’ll do Q&As but usually her inbox gets flooded with questions about her brother so it’s been quite some time since you’ve seen one of those. 

“You know you’re one of the only people that hasn’t brought my siblings up to me since I got here?” She closes her mascara tube as she speaks looking at you over her shoulder. Her face holds just a hint of annoyance but you know it’s not directed towards you at this moment. “It’s such a small thing, but you make me feel like I’m my own person and not just my name.”

You walk closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder in comfort. She leans into the touch silently. It must be extremely annoying to only be asked about Kai and Lea every single day of her life. To some extent you know how she feels. Most people only ever ask you about your parents then about yourself as some kind of afterthought. 

“The way I see it, if you want to talk about them you will. I like you for you, not for any connection you have. I would rather talk about the person right here in front of me than the guy I’m going to beat this spring.”

A genuine belly laugh sounds through the air and her eyes crinkle as she looks back at you. She doesn’t say anything for a moment but you know she’s not laughing at your ambition. Some part of you feels like she wants someone to beat her brother. 

“You or me,” She says standing up from her desk with a confident smile. “one of us is going to get there.”

══════════════∘◦❀◦∘═══════════════

When you and Hiyyih arrive at the restaurant the others are already seated towards the back. Three seats at the long table are available to the right of Chaewon. They greet you while you sit down looking for a menu. Namjoon hands you one before you can ask and your eyes glance over the options. 

“This is my girlfriend Yunjin.” Chaewon gestures to the pretty girl sitting beside her as she speaks. 

Chaewon has mentioned her a few times. It's obvious how deeply she loves her by the way her eyes light up. Will you ever find a love that makes you feel that way again? For so much of your life you were sure Yoongi was your end all be all, but that’s no longer the reality. 

“It's so nice to meet you! Chae has been talking about you a lot but I’ve been too busy to hang out this week.” Yunjin smiles looking around the table. Her features are soft giving her a sort of angelic look.

You read over the menu during the lull in conversation trying to find something special to try. This place does look quite good.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Jimin asks a few moments later, folding his hands on the table in front of him. 

“We both found beautiful dresses.” Hiyyih says and you nod along confirming what she’s saying. “You aren’t allowed to see them until the benefit though.”

Jimin’s lips fall into a pout and Namjoon looks as if he’s trying to imagine what the two of you could’ve chosen. Not even the photos on your Instagram would make someone think you would pick the style you did. The color especially is not something you would normally wear.

“Seriously, don’t show us what you are wearing either. It’ll be a fun little surprise!” You perk up loving the idea of seeing your new found friends dressed in their best clothes.

The waitress comes to take orders a few minutes later and you order the first thing that looks good on the menu because you hadn’t made a decision when Jimin started talking.

 Before you can start another conversation a different waitress approaches with a pitcher of what looks like beer. Jimin quickly confirms your suspicion. 

“I thought we could have a few drinks to celebrate the end of your very first week of college.” 

Hiyyih takes charge pouring drinks for everyone before sipping her own drink. This beer has a lingering fruity taste that you quite like. Yunjin compliments Jimin’s choice, telling him some history about the company that makes it.

You settle in listening to the conversation more than you are engaging in it. The atmosphere is calm, their topics are interesting and you are enjoying your drink. 

Namjoon was not exaggerating when he said this place was incredible. The powerful flavor makes your stomach happy and your heart warm.

 As you continue to drink you join the conversation telling them about the first time you got drunk. It was a few years ago when both you and Yoongi’s parents were away at the same time. The two of you ended up vomiting on the beach before falling asleep in the sand.

“Namjoon, are you watching Lea’s live?” Hiyyih says, looking over his shoulder on her way back from the restroom.

His face turns red and he quickly puts his phone away like he’s been caught doing something embarrassing. You guess being caught by the younger sibling of the person you are watching could be kind of embarrassing. 

“She’s a very talented woman.” Namjoon replies after regaining his composure. “I never miss her livestreams.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hiyyih says cryptically, resuming her place next to you and taking a long pull of her beer. 

The topic shifts back to the first time you were drunk. Jimin tells the group about a party he went to in high school. His friends begged him to come and he got so drunk he made out with two different people before passing out on the couch. 

“Two people in one night?” Chaewon questions with a look of pure shock. “Are you a player?”

You laugh wondering if Chaewon always boldly asks things like this or if her alcohol consumption has something to do with it. 

“People can call me what they want. At the end of the night I’m never lonely.” 

“That’s a pretty average Friday night for him. Last year there was this party where…let’s just say I lost Jimin for a while then found him in a compromising position twenty minutes later.” Namjoon remarks, shrugging his shoulders. 

“You said you didn’t see anything!” Jimin hisses before covering his face with both of his hands. 

“I saw your whole ass.” Namjoon deadpans and the table erupts with laughter. 

Stopping yourself from imagining his bare ass is harder than you would like to admit. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t peeked at the way his jeans hug his ass. It doesn’t help that Jimin is naturally flirty and has pillowy lips. You squeeze your eyes shut trying to clear your mind and take a sip of water.

“What about you Namjoon?” Yunjin asks, taking a bite once she’s spoken. 

“The first time I got drunk was with my ex-boyfriend during my last year of high school. While we were watching a movie we drank a lot of razzberry wine, then my ex led me outside. He wouldn’t tell me where he was taking me.” He pauses to take a sip of his drink before continuing. He is licking at the corner of his mouth where some beer has dribbled.  “Somehow this man gained access to Silph Co. Headquarters and thought then would be a great time to go on the roof so we could look over the city. It was beautiful up there but we did get scolded by the security. They let us off after we beat them in a two v two pokemon battle.”

Your mind is loaded with new information about Namjoon. Firstly, he likes boys and dated one for long enough to get into some shenanigans. A few questions that you don’t ask are fluttering through your mind. It’s not your business whether he only likes men. If he wants you to know that kind of information he’d tell you. Secondly and more importantly, he’s good enough at battling pokemon that he can beat security guards. Typically security guards for a place like that would have strong well trained pokemon. 

“You battle?” You find yourself asking thankful your stupid mouth didn’t run before your brain. 

“Only in specific situations. My pokemon aren’t weak, I just prefer to only use them like that when absolutely necessary.” Namjoon says with a serious look crossing his face for a minute before falling back into a relaxed smile.

Chaewon asks more about where Jimin is from and he happily speaks about where he grew up. Several minutes into that conversation they are interrupted when Yunjin’s eyes catch someone you don’t want to see. 

“Yoongi?” Yunjin says and you follow her eyes to see your ex boyfriend being guided by a waiter to an empty table. Yoongi looks surprised that she’s calling out for him. Chaewon gives her an elbow to the ribs but she doesn’t take the hint. “You should join us!”

Why does your chest fill with dread so quickly? How can the person who was once your everything make you feel this way? At the same time you want to talk to him because you miss him no matter the pain you feel. Is that you or the incoming buzz talking?

“Are you sure?” Yoongi says, looking at everyone except you, like he knows he isn’t welcomed by you. 

Your friends shrug not knowing the severity of discomfort this could cause you. It’s not in your nature to exclude people so you don’t fight when he sits beside Hiyyih. If she will be welcoming is out of your realm of knowledge. She knows you’re exes but not quite all of the story behind how you broke up.

Yunjin explains how they met in class. Apparently, Yoongi isn’t being as cold to her considering how brightly she’s speaking of him. After only a week she seems to be picking up on things about him that are hard to catch. Jealousy flutters through you. 

Jimin pulls your focus away from Yoongi for a moment but you notice him speaking to a waitress. It’s almost infuriating how easily your ex boyfriend slides into the conversation. It makes sense he was once your best friend. Why wouldn’t he get along with your new friends?

“Oh, we’ve been there!” Yoongi says, gesturing towards you as Jimin talks about Goldenrod City. He was talking about the massive department store there that seemingly had every item you could ever need. “Our parents were researching in the area…what was it two years ago?”

“We were sixteen and left mostly unattended and we got into a little bit of trouble. They let us into a bar and we took way too many shots.” 

A real smile crosses your face as you remember the messy kisses and soul warming dancing. It was on that trip that Yoongi confessed he saw you as more than just his best friend. Something you had been waiting years to hear. Under the bright light of the moon next to the ocean the two of you shared the first of many kisses. These memories are tinged in sadness now knowing you can never trust him like you once did. Even if you let him explain, a part of you will always worry he will leave with no explanation again. 

Yoongi continues speaking about your time in Johto without giving details about your relationship. He’s saying so much that you wouldn’t have spoken about. All of your important memories in Johto are deeply intertwined with Yoongi. Sure you visited restaurants and stores, but you remember the way his fingers felt laced through yours as you walked along the dock. You remember the kiss he pressed to your forehead before dinner, with both his and your parents, promising he didn’t care if you waited to tell them about your changed relationship status. 

You are pulled away from your thoughts when the waitress sets a pinap berry cider in front of you. This delicious beverage has been your go to for nearly a year. Yoongi used to go to extreme lengths to secure it for you even when he wasn’t yet old enough to buy it. 

Hiyyih raises an eyebrow silently asking you what’s going on. Yoongi looks pleased with himself but only subtly. If you didn’t know him so well you wouldn’t be able to tell. He doesn’t do these kinds of things for gratitude, it’s how he shows he cares. 

“Did you order that?” Namjoon asks, wondering how he could have missed that with you right in front of him. 

All eyes at the table turn curiously to what Namjoon is asking about. You take a sip of the drink savoring the sweet flavor that coats your tongue. You hate that Yoongi knows you this well. He knows you would rather drink this if it’s available. Even after leaving you with no explanation he comes back caring for you just like he used to.  

“It’s her favorite.” Yoongi says before downing the rest of his drink. 

Namjoon’s face is unreadable, but the rest of them seem to find this situation cute. You aren’t so sure how you feel. Letting him creep back into your heart is surely not the best option. 

“Y’all are so cute together.” Yunjin says, flicking her eyes between you and Yoongi. An awkward silence falls over the table and Chaewon is reaching to cut her off when she continues. “Did you ever-”

You bolt up, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence, feigning sickness as you run to the restroom. Behind the closed door you take a deep breath and form a plan to get away from this dinner as soon as possible. They don’t know your drinking habits. For all they know you are actually sick.

The door creaks open and Hiyyih appears with a concerned look wrinkling her brow. She lays a hand on your shoulder looking at you in the mirror before she speaks. 

“Are you alright?” Her voice is soft like she doesn’t want anyone to accidentally overhear.

“I’m good, I just need to get out of here. Being around Yoongi is too much.” You take a deep breath steadying yourself on the sink in front of you.

“Okay, lean up against me and pretend you are having trouble walking. I’ll talk for you and we can go home.” 

You pull her into a quick hug before doing exactly what she said. You sling an arm around her shoulder and droop your eyes to perfect the illusion. You thank her as you put more of your weight into her side. 

“You’re the best.”

Hiyyih guides you back towards the table where everyone is wearing matching concerned expressions, except Yoongi who you know isn’t buying this. Yunjin looks upset with herself and your slightly intoxicated brain thinks she should be. Sure, she didn’t know any better but it was still weird. How can she pick up on small things about him but not know about you? Are you that unimportant to Yoongi now?

“I think she had a little too much to drink.” Hiyyih says with a sheepish smile. “I’m going to take her back to her dorm. We’ll see you later.”

No one protests, probably thinking it’s best for you to go home before you puke all over the table. Jimin looks wary but remains in his seat. 

The act continues until you are far out of sight of the restaurant. You straighten up giggling at the effort you just put into escaping that situation. Hiyyih is a real one for helping you without question. She waits until both of you are sitting on your couch, cozy in your dorm, before speaking about anything meaningful. 

“So, what’s the deal with Yoongi? I know you said he’s your ex, but things are obviously not amicable.”

It’s a minute before you respond trying to gauge just how much you want to share with her. In the end the why is quite simple. Maybe if you were a little more sober you wouldn’t share this with someone you met so recently. Somehow, you think she will understand how you feel about this. 

“We were childhood best friends who did everything together. He’s been my only real competition all my life. He challenged me but was always there to lift me up when I fell. We started dating when we were sixteen. It was on that trip he was talking about that we finally confessed our true feelings to each other.” 

You pause, taking a deep breath as Hiyyih listens. You let everything out, feeling tears of frustration pool in your eyes. It’s okay for you to feel this way. It does not make you weak. 

“We were together from that day until a random day in March when he broke up with me over text then left the region. Obviously, I was really worried when he didn’t return any of my messages. I went to his house and talked to his mom, but all she would tell me was that he had to leave. She said that he was okay, but that didn’t stop me from spending the next few months worrying about him. Yoongi has never been the kind of person that ignores me even when he’s upset with me. He came home for graduation but didn’t speak to me. He wouldn’t come to the door when I came to his house, and as soon as he could he left again. Then he shows up here and is in the same club as me and suddenly wants to speak to me. It’s too much. I’ve spent all summer trying to forget the feelings I have for him, but no matter how hard I try I can’t escape him.” 

Hiyyih takes a moment to digest what you’ve just told her. This is a lot of information to just drop on someone. She pushes a piece of her hair away from her face before looking you in the eye. She cuts right to the chase not beating around the bush saying how hard that must’ve been for you. 

“Do you want closure?” 

Damn, you haven’t even known her for a full two weeks and she already knows what question you need to be asked. For most of the summer you convinced yourself that you didn’t need closure because you thought the chances of you ever getting it were miniscule. Wishing for an explanation only felt like you were further deluding yourself. 

“I want my best friend back. He was the person I ran to whenever I was excited or sad, but he’s only going to make excuses for what he did.” Your head falls against the back of the couch as you release a loud sigh. “Even if there is a good reason I can never trust him the same.”

“I’m not saying you have to go talk to him right now, but it might be helpful eventually. It’s better to live without regret or wonder.” 

After a moment of contemplation you get up and get water from your mini fridge.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You ask looking over your shoulder after taking a drink of the water. 

Hopefully, this will distract you. Hiyyih nods tell you she’ll be right back without further elaboration. Several minutes later you hear a knock on your door after changing into your pajamas. 

Hiyyih is standing outside your door with a big bowl of popcorn and two bottles of soju. You take the bowl from her hands and walk back to the couch. 

Once settled on the couch the two of you decide on a movie. You and Hiyyih get far drunker than you intended and end up giggling on your bed together once the movie is over. 

“Then Kai walked around the corner and I thought for sure he was going to beat Riki up, thankfully Kai is not a very fast runner.”

She’s sharing the story of her first kiss in great detail when your phone buzzes against your hip. You unlock your phone and see a message for Namjoon.

Namjoon: I left some snacks outside your door. You’re probably sleeping by now so I didn't knock. See you tomorrow y/n 

The impulsive part of your brain wants to jump up and thank him before he makes it out of your building. You decide against that since you are supposed to be sick and what if he misinterprets your drunken excitement? 

“Namjoon brought me snacks.” You say almost like a question rereading the words on the screen several times.  

“That’s so cute. I knew he was a softie.” Hiyyih says with wide eyes. Then continues in a different tone. One that is almost teasing. “You have him worried about you.”

You roll your eyes as you get up, almost falling over. Hiyyih follows you to the door where you open it as quietly as possible. A small wicker basket sits in front of your door filled with your favorite snacks. The handle is wrapped with a dark green handkerchief. You bring it inside wondering how he knew exactly what you’d like. Only one or two of these things have been mentioned in front of him, but packages of your favorite candies are neatly placed in front of your favorite chips. Did he ask Yoongi? Is he some kind of sorcerer that has mapped out the taste buds on your tongue without you knowing? You pull out one of the bags of candy and see Spark’s favorite canned food at the bottom of the basket.

Namjoon must’ve asked Yoongi because no one else would know the very specific food Spark likes. He is quite picky when it comes to canned food and this one can be hard to find. Yoongi would know where to find it because his Whooper, Sugar, also likes this one. 

You are almost more surprised that Yoongi told him this than the fact that Namjoon made the effort to do this for you. Him going out of his way to make your night just a little bit better fills your heart with happiness.

“Oh my god!” Hiyyih exclaims picking up the pokemon food. “This is the only flavor Kepi will eat. He hates all the other ones. It’s a struggle to get him to eat anything Lea didn’t make.”

After asking if it’s okay Hiyyih releases her Pachirishu, Kepi, and you release Spark. You find a suitable dish and open the can, pouring the contents into the dish before setting it on the floor. The two pokemon happily share the meal as you ask Hiyyih about her sister’s food. 

You learn her sister’s pokemon food can be found at the pokemon center here in Mesagoza. Hiyyih is grateful her sister was able to expand her business fairly recently. In a sense Hiyyih’s pokemon team is incredibly spoiled, but it’s made them stronger. 

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In the morning you wake up to the scent of a floral shampoo under your nose. Your head pounds when you open your eyes to find Hiyyih’s back cuddled against you. Bright light is streaming into the room from the open curtains.

A half asleep groan leaves Hiyyih’s mouth when you pull away. She stretches her stiff muscles with eyes still closed. Once you’ve made it off the bed you search for a hangover cure in your medicine cabinet. You pour two glasses of water and bring the bottle of headache relief over to Hiyyih who is holding her head in her hands. She gladly accepts and chugs the water after swallowing the pill.

A buzz sounds from somewhere in your blankets and Hiyyih helps you find it. When you unlock your phone you see a few texts. There is one from your mom, one from Jimin, and one from Chaewon. Your mom just wants to know how you are doing and some part of you thinks you shouldn’t tell her that you are massively hungover. Jimin is wondering if you survived the night and Chaewon is apologizing on behalf of her girlfriend for making things awkward. 

After assuring Jimin you are alive you ask if he wants to get breakfast. While you wait for his reply you answer Chaewon assuring her that it’s okay because Yunjin had no idea. Sure, she could have not said you and Yoongi were cute together, but she couldn’t have possibly known how that would make you feel. 

“Are you going to respond to Namjoon?” Hiyyih asks, unlocking her own phone to find several texts from the Huening sibling group chat. 

“Thanks for the reminder.” You say opening your message thread with Namjoon. 

After what is probably too much consideration for the situation you send a simple text.

You: thank you for the snacks! Spark and I really enjoyed them 😊

Jimin hasn’t answered so you get up heading for the shower. Hiyyih leaves to clean herself up as well, promising to meet up for breakfast afterwards. The two of you will probably end up going to the dining hall. If you venture back into town you might get distracted and you have homework to finish and pokemon to train. 

The shower does wonders to make you feel less disgusting. The last time you got this drunk was the week after Yoongi left when you started to accepted he wasn’t coming back anytime soon. That time was a lot messier, ending with your cousin holding your hair back as you puked into your mom’s tulips at the back of the house. Your parents barely punished you because they could tell how distraught you were by the situation. 

Jimin texts you back once you get out of the shower suggesting brunch in an hour. He adds that Namjoon is coming too. You decide to use this time to make cookies in the communal kitchen on the first floor. Making cookies, even if it's with premade dough, has always been something you like to do. Your mom made sure you had some before she went back home and you are grateful. It’s a calming task that gives you time to think. 

The cookies are done well before you leave for the dining hall. You line Namjoon’s basket with a piece of fabric and carefully arrange the cookies inside. With the fabric covering them you hope they will stay warm long enough for you to meet up with your friends.

Pixie, your Azurill, follows closely behind you as you walk with the basket on your arm. Earlier this week you decided Pixie was the name for her after hearing someone say the word in the library. She cuddled into your leg when you called her by that name for the first time. You can feel a bond forming with your new pokemon already. This is all you’ve ever wanted. You are so excited it’s finally happening. 

Jimin and Namjoon look surprised when you unveil the cookies. Hiyyih raises an eyebrow but doesn’t stay much, instead reaching for a cookie. A soft smile is playing on Namjoon’s face that shows off his deep dimples. What would he do if you reached out and poked your finger into his cheek crater? 

You leave Namjoon with the remainder of the cookies and his basket when the four of you have finished eating. You head off for a training session by yourself. Lying in bed won’t help this hangover so you may as well do something productive. Besides, you need to spend more time with your pokemon.

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Professor Oak preps you and the boys for the Fall Benefit by giving you a list of questions donors might be interested in knowing the answer to. He thinks hearing it from the students will make them more generous. The students are the ones who will be using the equipment most. You look over the list one more time as you are putting the final touches on your makeup for the evening. Deciding to go for a softer makeup look was an easy decision when you want to give full attention to your beautiful dress.

Chaewon, Yunjin and Hiyyih are sitting in various places around your dorm also getting ready. You’ve briefed them on some of the questions even though they are mostly meant for the Oak’s Club members. 

You thought it would be more fun to get ready with your girls and you were right. This is such a nice change from back when most of your days were spent primarily with Yoongi. 

Hiyyih is singing along to the song playing over the speaker as she brushes blush onto her cheeks. Chaewon presses a kiss to the top of Yunjin’s head while she’s putting on earrings. Each of them look absolutely stunning in floor length gowns with carefully styled hair and makeup. 

“Let’s go take pictures in front of the statue!” Yunjin suggests a few minutes later when she sees everyone is ready.  

The rest of the girls happily agree walking towards the door to put on shoes and you follow close behind. It will be nice to get pictures before you are surely swept away to stay with the Oak’s Club all night long. 

Chilly air hits you as you step outside of your dorm building and walk towards the Uxie statue in the courtyard. Another student you recognize from your Battle Strategy class walks by and you call out to him. 

“Jungkook!” You say waving your hand at him. He turns around and his eyes flick up and down your body. His doe eyes crinkle at the corners when he realizes who is calling for him. “Do you mind taking a few photos for us?” 

“Of course!” Jungkook says taking your phone and lining up the best shot. “The four of you look really nice. I’m not sure how the researchers are going to be able to focus.”

This brings a cascade of laughter from you and the girls. He starts snapping pictures and instructs you on some poses. Jungkook takes every combination of photos he can between the four of you, switching phones a few times. Fifteen minutes later Jungkook’s cheeks are red as the four of you circle around him to make sure the pictures turned out well. It seems your classmate is not just good at finding the strengths in seemingly weak pokemon, but capturing the best angle as well.

“Thank you so much. See you in class!” Chaewon says when you are satisfied with the results and ready to head to the ballroom on the other side of campus.

“I can’t wait to meet your mom.” Hiyyih says, clinging to your arm as you walk. 

The inside of the ballroom is decorated with tasteful fall colors with a gourd gracing each table. Your eyes sweep the room looking for the other members of the Oak’s club. Namjoon, Jimin and Yoongi are standing on the other side of the room, but they look breathtaking even from here. Hiyyih tugs you towards them with a bright smile.

The boys are wearing simple black suits styled differently. Something about seeing them dress so nicely makes your stomach flutter. Each of them is so handsome, even if you would rather not admit you still find your ex boyfriend attractive. They are so put together and radiating a different kind of charm than you feel on everyday encounters with them.

Namjoon and Jimin’s jaws slack when they spot you. They share a glance then look back at you with eyes sweeping up and down your form. Yoongi doesn’t look quite so shocked having already seen you dressed like this before and dressed in far less. There is a look glazing his eyes that you can’t quite interpret. Is he thinking of how stupid he was to let you go? This dress is boosting your confidence in a way you didn’t think it would. 

Jimin is wearing a white dress shirt underneath his three piece suit with a tie that is very close in color to your dress. He has a silver watch on his wrist and small silver earrings dangling from his ears. Namjoon is wearing a turtleneck that gives him a sophisticated air. You’d be lying if you said the way both these men have their hair styled off their forehead didn’t make them more attractive to you. Lastly, your eyes settle on Yoongi seeing he’s forgone wearing a tie deciding on just the black suit with a white dress shirt. He’s fiddling with his cufflink when you tear your eyes away. 

“Y/N you look gorgeous.” Jimin says moving closer to you and softly pushing a lock of your hair away from your face.

His soft fingers graze your cheek pulling your heart into a pounding rhythm. Just as soon as he’s touched you he slips away. 

Namjoon grabs his other wrist effectively making him withdraw. Yoongi looks between you and the other two boys like he can’t understand what just happened. You aren’t sure you understand yourself. Before you can think too deeply about it someone taps your shoulder and you turn to see your mom. 

“Hi!” You say your voice turning high pitched in your excitement as you wrap your arms around your mom.

“Oh, I missed you.” Your mom whispers in your ear before pulling away slightly. “Introduce me to your friends!”

The next several minutes are spent introducing your mom to all of your new friends. More people are making their way inside the ballroom and Namjoon only holds out on research questions for a few minutes. Professor Oak is wandering around the room speaking to his colleagues about the greatness of your school. 

It’s not until after dinner that Professor Oak gathers his club to parade around and introduce you to notable attendees. There is a professional photographer snapping pictures around the room. Professor Oak is sure to get several shots of his club together. Your mom tags along boasting achievements for you and Yoongi to every person that stops to speak with you. It’s nice to spend time with her after being on your own for the last few weeks. Her presence and arm threaded through yours is comforting. 

After about 45 minutes you break free taking a breather from the many conversations about the science of pokemon. Jimin clings to Taehyung, who’s father you learn is an actor who has made a sizable donation tonight. Taehyung looks handsome in a way that could ruin lives. If he asks for something you aren’t sure you’d be able to say no easily. There is an air of confidence around him and it’s easy to tell he’s very comfortable dressed how he is. 

Mom joins you in an area with fewer people and gives the side of your head a stroke. Her expression is soft but you can see the pride she’s holding in her eyes. Going to this school is at the top of the list of all the things she’s ever wanted for you.

“You know you can call me if things get hard, right?”

This makes your heart ache. What makes her think you wouldn’t reach out if you need her? You’ve always been close with your mom. Doing things with your mom and spending time with her was all that got you through the summer. 

“Of course, Mom.” You say feeling genuinely okay and happy with how the night is going. Sure, things with Yoongi have not been easy on you but it hasn’t been bad enough that you needed your mom. Learning to cope on your own is healthy. Mom doesn’t need to know everything all the time. “I like it here. It’s helping me discover a whole new stronger me.”

“I knew you’d like it here.” She says, then raises an eyebrow in a way that makes you sure she is about to ask about boys. “So, has anyone caught your eye? That Namjoon boy has been looking over to you an awful lot tonight.”

“Mooooom!” You whine, nudging her ribs with your elbow. “It’s not like that. You are just imagining it.”

“Okay, whatever you say, sweetie.” 

Before you can protest more your mom is swept away by the many students that want to speak with her. This is something you’ve become used to over the years. Everyone wants to pick your mom’s fascinating brain. 

Most of your evening after that is spent speaking to guests. Hiyyih joins you and stays close by engaging with whoever will listen to her. Which is a lot of people because of her last name. You wish they were listening to her because of her brilliant mind and not because of Kai. Question after question is answered until you think you might pass out if you have to talk about the research equipment you will never use one more time. 

There is a stretch of time after that where Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung join you. They each have a drink in their hand and standing close to them you can tell they have a buzz going. There is the slightest smell of alcohol breaking through the scent of each of their colognes. The conversation stays appropriate for the environment you’re in. Professor Oak would not want the wrong ears to hear the night's prized jewels speaking like they were just a few nights ago at dinner. Jimin is talking about the different types of Combees when you decide it’s time for a drink.   

Standing next to the bar without a drink in your hand yet, Yoongi's mom finally approaches you. She looks elegant as ever with a tired smile on her face. You aren’t sure how you feel about talking to her, but you were sure she would want to. It wasn’t something you thought you would need to do again. You didn’t think you would be attending these kinds of events anytime soon. This woman helped raise you in so many ways now you don’t even want to look her in the eye. She gives you a side hug that you return hesitantly. 

“How are you doing, Y/N?” She asks and when you don’t say anything for a moment she asks another question. “Yoongi’s not giving you a hard time is he?”

Of all the things to ask. Has Yoongi been telling her his own version of how things are going? You wouldn’t say he’s been giving you a hard time, but it hasn’t been particularly easy. Is it bad to wish you had never dated him at all? Going back to the friendship you once shared is all you could wish to happen, but that can never happen. The two of you crossed the line.  

“I’m okay.” You reply playing with the fabric on your dress nervously. “We haven’t spoken much. He tried to give me an explanation but I don’t really want to hear it.”

She nods in understanding. “Even if you aren’t dating my son I am always here for you. When he left I wasn’t aware of the full scope of what was happening. He never meant to hurt you. Quite the opposite actually. He was trying to protect you. I would suggest you hear him out, but whether or not you want to pick up where you left off is your decision.”

What could he have possibly been trying to protect you from? You don’t need protection. If anything he needs more protection than you. Time and time again you have prevailed as the stronger trainer. Why wouldn’t he want your help?

“We are beyond picking up where we left off, but what was he trying to protect me from?”

Yoongi’s mom hesitates as if she’s toying with whether she wants to tell you the truth or a modified version or perhaps a straight lie. After he left you haven’t been able to trust any member of his family quite the same. Being around his mother brings up so many good memories that are tainted by his betrayal of your trust. 

“It’s best if he tells you that.” An uncomfortable look crosses her face. “I’m not sure in how much detail he wants to explain where he was and what he was doing.”

“Are any of us in immediate danger?” You ask keeping your face cool and calculated despite the cocktail of emotions brewing inside your chest.  

“No, not any immediate danger.” Yoongi’s mom says warily like she wants to say more.  

“Okay then I’ll keep that in mind.” You say picking up the glass of cider you ordered from the bar. The glass is cool against your hand and you take the first sip before continuing. “If you’ll excuse me I’d like to see my mom before she leaves for the night.”

Except you don’t find your mom. Your eyes scan the room for the man you once thought was the love of your life. With large unattractive gulps you down your cider before cornering Yoongi. Professor Oak is showing off one of his newer pokemon so the majority of the guests are on the other side of the ballroom. 

“What were you trying to protect me from?” You demand as you close in on him until you are just feet apart. 

“Hello to you too.” Yoongi says, swirling the whiskey in the glass he’s holding before taking a sip. When did his taste change? He didn’t like dark liquor before he left. “I saw you were talking to my mom. How’d that go?”

“You wanted to give me an explanation. So go. Explain.” The words are flying from your mouth sharply.

“Beautiful, do you really think this is the best place for that?”

“Don’t call me that.” You hiss wishing the old pet name didn’t make your heart sting. A word that once made you so happy causing you so much pain. “What were you trying to protect me from?”

“The less you know the safer it is for you.” “You left me with no explanation why should I believe you are still trying to protect me.” “Because I still lo—”

“Y/N! Yoongi!” Yunjin interrupts, throwing a knowing look your way as if she’s trying to save you from the conversation you are having. You turn to look at her. Chaewon is holding her hand looking like she’s had a few drinks herself from the flush of her skin. “Everyone’s leaving but we want to keep the good vibes going. So meet me in the violet dorm in an hour!”

“Pajamas are preferred!” Chaewon adds, swinging her hand that is intertwined with Yunjin’s as she speaks. “Jimin, Taehyung and Namjoon are coming too!”

“Can I bring Hiyyih?” You ask, pulling your mind away from the man standing behind you. 

You don’t want to leave Hiyyih out and honestly you will feel better having her there. She already understands you on a different level than anyone else. It’s like the two of you were made to be best friends. Fate only brought you together when it was needed most. When you need someone new to push you to new lengths and understand you deeper than anyone else has. 

“Of course! I couldn’t find her or I would have invited her too.” Yunjin replies with a wide smile. 

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” Yoongi says quickly leaving before you can get another word in. 

The couple leaves hand in hand and you find Hiyyih several minutes later in the bathroom. Thankfully, she was just emptying her bladder and not her stomach. You are nearly out the door when your mom stops you. Her arms wrap around you tightly squeezing warmth into your heart. 

“I’ll let you go with your friends, but please be safe.” She says when she pulls away to hold you at arm's length. “And here take these. A Hoenn professor gave them to me but I think you two could make better use of them.”

You obtained six Timer Balls. In your own research you learned that the Timer Ball is a special Pokeball that makes it easier to capture pokemon the longer your battle with it lasts. This type of Pokeball is not common in this part of the region. Closer to where Hiyyih lives they are easier to find.

“Thank you!” Hiyyih exclaims enthusiastically and you know if you don’t pull her away now she is going to start talking to your mother about the mechanics of the ball. 

“I love you, mom.” You say as you grip Hiyyih’s bicep and pull her out of the door.

“I love you too, sweetie.” Mom replies laughing at the way you are dragging your friend away.

Before heading back to the dorm you descend the long staircase into Mesagoza in search of snacks and if you pick up some alcohol on the way that’s no one else’s business.   

#fanfiction #bts fanfic #kim namjoon #min yoongi #bts smut #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #raes fics #route 613 #pokemon au #pokemon crossover #bangtan #route 613 chapter 2

[yougottabeblitzenmyhearthstone]

Chase Space: You're It

Ao3

Blitzen doesn’t think he’s ever run this fast in his life. His heart hammers heavily against his chest. His feet sprint feverishly but to no avail. He’s not fast enough. He can feel the enemy closing in.

“Tag, you’re it!” Gabby chimes cheerfully as she quickly backpedals away after touching Blitzen’s shoulder.

The other kids cheer and laugh gleefully from where they’re scattered across the yard.

The stars in the sky glitter like rhinestones laid in velvet. The full moon light glows so brilliantly, they don’t need any of the outside lamps to play their game.

Blitzen pants as he glances around the yard: Trevante is ducked under the trampoline while Jayelle stands atop it; Ramey edges along the border of the flower bed; Isaac and Pablo peer out from behind opposite sides of an old oak tree. Zeke’s shoes peek out from beneath the shrubs.

He can’t even see Cam.

He knew he shouldn’t have worn his prototype velour tracksuit to play tag in. The 2000s are going to make a comeback and he’s going to be ready. “Am I allowed to give up?” He calls to the yard hopefully.

A chorus of boos answers him.

With a sigh, Blitzen tries to pick out the easiest target. While he’s trying to decide, Hearthstone appears on the porch, Marcy at his side. Clapping to get their attention, Hearth simply signs Brownies.

Suddenly, the kids are rushing the porch. Cam drops from their hiding spot up in the tree to join the fray. As they troop inside, Blitzen looks at his boyfriend with a smile. Thank you.

Were you losing? Hearthstone asks with a teasing grin. He nudges Marcy, directing her to go inside with the rest of the kids. 

She sticks her tongue out at him playfully before running inside, not realizing she slammed the door behind her.

Shaking his head fondly, Hearthstone pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Soon, he and Blitzen are sitting on the porch steps as Hearthstone smokes. Blitzen can hardly look away from the elf. He looks ethereal in the moonlight. He can’t even describe how he looks.

Take a picture, it’ll last longer, Hearthstone signs as he holds the cigarette between his lips. His fingers remove it so he can blow out the smoke.

Blitzen laughs, loud and unbridled. Why? I get to look at you for the rest of our lives.

Green floods Hearthstone’s cheeks at those words. He grins stupidly as he stubs out his cigarette, dropping it in the nearby ashtray. Sap. For you? Always. Blitzen scoots closer so he can kiss him.

#blitzen #hearthstone #hearthstone thomas alderman #blitzen michael freyason #blitzstone #chase space #the chase space series #original characters #mcga #fanfic

[littletroubledgrrrl]

I wonder if the reason the 2000's was so sexist in regards to women and having so much oversexualized women---sexualized pop stars like Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Jennifer Lopez, Beyonce, Jessica Simpson, the Pussycat Dolls, Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas, sexualized fashion trends like low rise jeans, merchandise with the Playboy logo, velour pants with "Juicy" written across the rear, whale tail thongs, Jessica Simpson and Paris Hilton acting like blond bimbos on their reality shows, "Girls Gone Wild", even "Legally Blond" being a movie about a woman going to college just to get her boyfriend back---was because this was a backlash to how women were portrayed in 1990's pop culture--where you had those female Lilith Fair singer songwriters who wrote their own music and played their own instruments and didn't really use sex to sell themselves (some of them didn't even wear makeup and didn't shave their armpits and legs) and rock bands that didn't sexually objectify women in their lyrics and music videos with a few exceptions.

The 90's also had male rock bands and singers like Kurt Cobain and Pearl Jam supporting feminism instead of looking down on it, and the 90's had strong female characters on television like Dana Scully on "The X Files", female comediennes like Janeane Garofalo not being oversexualized, lots of other female recording artists during the 90's not using sex to sell themselves that weren't female singer songwriters, female rock bands like Bikini Kill and Hole seething about rape and fashion trends like high waisted jeans and wearing these floral dresses that reached your knees.

Of course the 90's had its fair share of sexually objectifying women and sexism---"Baywatch", "Married with Children", Beavis and Butthead, Howard Stern and most male hip hop music.

#90s #2000s #00s #comparison #backlash #tl;dr

[rainyearning]

hyperaware of their height difference, farrah bends her knees enough to make a kiss possible and comfortable. her boyfriend's just so buff and cute, she can't help but squeeze him into her (admittedly... flat) chest with a delighted squeal.

"okay, okay," she take in a deep breath and turns around. nearly vibrating with excitement, she teases at the hem of her short velour skirt before pulling it up to reveal most of her bum. and no, the present is not her flashing aaron. rather, it's the tattoo of his name on her right ass cheek. the benefits of her supherhumanity include being able to get tattoos without healing time in mind.

"isn't it, like, so cute?" she looks over her shoulder at him, proud and obviously pleased with herself.

Now that he got that kiss, Aaron surely is curious about that surprise. When she turns around, bending slightly he can' help but smile. Oh that could mean a few different things. Maybe Farrah got a cute new underwear for him to take off of her, maybe she had visited an adult store- a tattoo? Somehow, even with the amount of tattoos his girlfriend had, he was surprised to see a new one, rpecisely, his name written on her butt. And oh did he love that. "Oh it's so cute." He easily crouches down to give it a look, thumb brushing over the healed ink, as to test if it was real. "This is like.. so romantic." And it had his heart jump and ache slightly. Oh would she regret it when she realized he wasn't good enough for her? A fear he always battled. Shortly, Aaron placed a kiss against it before getting back to his feet. "This is the coolest thing anyone ever did for me." So he pulled her into another kiss after gently turning her around.

#unavernales #farrahxaaron. #they are SO cute

[unusualbill]

Nothing For Us - Chapter 3

Warnings: Blood, self harm, skin picking

Roman stretched out in the backseat absentmindedly picking at his cuticles, and praying his splitting headache would go away. Forcing himself to focus on the passing scenery, he hadn’t even noticed he was shredding his skin raw.

"I think there's crackers in the glovebox," Peter said, eyeing Roman from the rearview mirror and pretending he didn’t see him wipe blood on the velour seats.

"Huh?"

"If you're carsick, you should try to eat a little something, it'll help settle your stomach." Peter turned his attention back to the road, attempting to see past the fog that had settled in "God, I sound like my mom."

Roman turned on his side, propping his shoulder against the door and using his coat as a pillow. He let out a breath that could almost be interpreted as some sort of pitiful laugh. He was not in the mood to think about family, and certainly not in the mood to be reminded that some parents actually love their children.

Peter turned on the radio to fill the silence. The garbled sound of some generic pop song from years ago drifted from the speakers, occasionally punctuated by pure static. He fiddled with the knob, trying to find a station that came in clear. Having no such luck, he switched to the car’s cassette player.

Roman made a sour face as a cheesy love song from the 1980s began to play. He could practically smell the hairspray emanating from the band’s lead singer.

"What the fuck are we listening to?" He asked unsuccessfully attempting to ignore the song’s flagrant use of the word ‘lovers’.

"Some mixtape Lynda had once, it's been stuck in the player for as long as I can remember.”

"Are all the songs like this? All lovey-dovey and shit?" 

"Pretty much, it was from an ex-boyfriend of hers I think. Real corny shit."

"Gross."

Roman shifted positions, now laying on his back and resting his hands on his stomach. Though he had just fed, the gnawing pain in his gut has returned. The pain was dull for now, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long. The hunger was inevitable. He closed his eyes, listening as one song faded into another, trying his hardest not to think. The warm air from the heater and the feeling of cracked asphalt under the tires was almost enough to put him to sleep.

"What's our next stop?" He asked

Peter stayed silent, staring at the hills in the distance. He hadn’t planned much in terms of destination, he had barely planned on taking Roman with him. He left his fate up to the wind a long time ago.

"Whatever's at the end of this road, I guess. The destination doesn't matter." 

Roman opened his eyes only to roll them. "Yeah yeah yeah, it's about the journey and all that shit. When are we stopping the fucking car? I gotta piss."

"Oh," Peter said, ashamed about how profound he had gotten "There's a gas station in a couple of miles, the tank is getting low anyway."

Roman exited the small gas station restroom to find his companion standing in front of the drink display.

“Welcome back,” Peter said, eyeing a can of cheap beer. “Your fly is down.”

“Shit,” Roman glanced down, zipping his jeans “Why the hell were you looking anyway?”

Peter ignored him, shoving two cans of beer in his jacket.

"The fuck are you doing, man?"

Peter glared at him and nodded his head towards the cashier, who didn't seem to be paying much attention. “Keep your voice down.”

Roman rolled his eyes.

"Man, at least get the good shit." He reached past Peter, grabbing a full case of slightly more expensive beer.

"You have a good fake?" Peter asked, his tone hushed.

Roman smirked, looking at the old man behind the counter, who seemed much more interested in the crossword puzzle from last week's paper. In fact, Roman wasn't sure if he had noticed the boys come in at all. 

“Don’t need one.”

Roman sauntered up to the counter, setting the case of beer down along with a twenty-dollar bill. He gestured towards the cigarette display.

"And a pack of Marlboro Reds and some matches," He paused, chewing his lip "Lots of matches."

The cashier peered over his paper, looking the young Godfrey boy up and down.

"You got some ID for me, son?" he asked the obvious 17-year-old.

Roman glanced toward Peter a moment before going completely stone-faced.

"I don't need an ID, I look old enough."

The cashier furrowed his brow before lowering his paper and speaking slowly

"You don't need an ID, you look old enough." 

Peter turned his head away from the cashier, not wishing to be involved. Instead, he focused on the wall, reading the advertisements and trying not to make eye contact with the taxidermied bear head that marked where the restrooms were.

"You'd be happy to sell me the cigarettes."

The cashier nodded, his eyes completely vacant. He retrieved the pack of cigarettes and placed them on the counter, along with several boxes of matches. His movements were slow and stilted, like a human marionette.

"Your total is-"

Roman interrupted him, tapping the twenty on the counter.

"Twenty will be enough."

The cashier took it, placing it in the cash register.

"Twenty will be enough." He repeated.

Roman pocketed the matches and pack of cigarettes and gestured for Peter to grab the case of beer. Peter hesitantly complied, tucking the case under his arm and heading towards the door.

Roman made eye contact with the cashier once more.

"We were never here." 

Handing the case of beer to Roman to set on the floorboard, Peter climbed into the driver’s seat. "You have got to quit doing that."

"Doing what?" Roman wiped away his nosebleed as he got in the passenger’s seat. He stared at the blood smeared on the back of his hand, admiring the color. "We were never there, remember?"

Peter sighed, starting the car

"Fine, whatever. Just please stop doing the freaky roofie eyes shit. I swear your brain is gonna leak out of your fucking nose." 

Roman turned to look out at the window, his thumb brushing absentmindedly under his nose.

The feeling of loose gravel under the car's tires soothed Peter, it felt like home. The low hum of the heater reminded Peter of being a child and laying in the backseat, eyes closed as his grandfather drove over twisted dirt roads, cutting through thick forests. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun as it dappled through the trees.

Sitting at a stoplight, Peter viewed his surroundings. The sky was a muddled gray dashed with clouds that almost seemed fake. A light fog hung in the air like steam clinging to glass, it was unmistakably Autumn.

Peter thought about his answer to Roman's earlier question. He knew deep in his heart that any good road trip's destination was a feeling, a moment, not a physical place. But what moment was he hoping for? He daydreamed about coming clean and telling Roman the truth, but even in his own fantasy, he didn't know what that truth was. All he knew is that people's dreams aren't connected without good reason.

Roman broke the silence with a sudden yell and a fist to Peter's shoulder.

"Punch buggy green! No punch backs!"

Peter rubbed his shoulder, watching as a green Volkswagen beetle turned down the road beside them.

"Hey, no distracting the driver, car rules." 

Roman flashed his famous shit-eating Godfrey grin.

"You're just mad 'cause I said no punch backs."

Turning his attention back to the road, Peter paused a moment before he spoke.

"What the fuck did you call it just then?"

"Punch buggy?" Roman said, wondering if Peter was a little bit stupid "How the fuck have you been everywhere and not played punch buggy?" 

"Oh, I've played it," Peter rubbed his shoulder again, feeling a bruise starting to form "But it's called fucking slug bug, man."

"Whatever man, who cares?" Roman crossed his arms in the same manner as a pouting toddler. "Slug bug sounds stupid anyway, at least punch buggy makes sense. You see a buggy, you punch."

"Right." Peter shifted in his seat, pulling down the car's sun visor and reaching for the radio knob to fill the silence.

Roman wasn't sure what he had done to cause such a reaction, but Peter's silence made him uneasy. He looked down at his lap, picking at the blisters on his fingers. Between the dried blood on his cuticles and the fresh blood pooling on his fingertips, the smell was intoxicating. It made him feel lightheaded and nauseous and blissful all at once, it was almost arousing.

He let out a shaky breath before stopping himself from picking anymore. He stared at his bloody hands, unsure of what to do with them.

He searched the floorboard for a discarded napkin, wiping the blood away.

"Ah, shit!" His wounds burned as he looked down at the napkin, which had previously been used to wipe away french fry grease, and of course, salt.

Peter looked over at Roman, who was now attempting to shake the salt out of his wounds. “Are you okay? What did you do?”

"I, uh, fuck that burns." Roman nearly put his wounds to his mouth but stopped himself short.

Peter pulled off to the shoulder, getting out of the car. Something about stopping abruptly on the highway made Roman’s stomach flip.

Peter shook his head as he popped the trunk "There's a first aid kit in the back, just stay there and don't touch anything." 

Roman nodded, glancing back down at his hands in shame. He usually didn't let himself get that far. He watched as the blood ran down his hands and onto his wrists, paying close attention to every tear in his flesh and every drop of blood. He deserved it, didn’t he? He was a monster, a monster that fed on helplessness and innocence. He deserved to be in pain.

Roman’s thoughts were interrupted when Peter returned with a small metal box and a plastic water bottle. He opened the passenger's side door and instructed Roman to hold out his hands.

Roman complied, holding out bloody open palms. He avoided eye contact as Peter took them into his own, his touch calloused but gentle.

"I can't take you anywhere," He said, shaking his head "Is that salt?"

Roman winced as Peter poured water onto his wounds.

"Grabbed the wrong napkin, I guess."

Once the blood had been washed away, Peter took a closer look at Roman's hands. Once manicured nails now had shredded cuticles, and the damaged first layer of skin was peeling from Roman's fingertips.

Peter frowned, knowing the wounds were self-inflicted.

"Roman-" He started

Roman pulled his hands away, shaking them dry.

"Quit looking at me like that man, that's gay."

Peter elected to ignore that comment, instead reaching for the small box he had placed on the dashboard.

"Gimme your hands again."

"No," Roman said, holding his hands in his lap "Not if you're going to look at me like that." 

A voice in the back of his head told him that maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"I just need to bandage them, I'll be quick."

Roman complied with a sigh, holding his hands limp in front of him.

Peter held a clean paper napkin to his companion's first two fingers, squeezing tight. He felt Roman's eyes staring him down as he avoided eye contact.

He raised his head to speak, accidentally meeting Roman's gaze. He couldn't help but notice the look in the upir's Godfrey green eyes. Behind the contempt and annoyance, there was a little softness, a look that could almost turn to a smile.

"You're doing it again."

Peter let go of Roman's hand, letting the bloody napkin drop to the ground below and clearing his throat.

"What bandaid do you want?" He asked, rifling through his makeshift first-aid kit. "Looks like we've got rocket ships or Sesame Street."

Roman cocked a brow

"You're joking, right?"

Peter held out the box so that Roman could view it for himself. Inside the box was a pile of loose bandaids, a handful of cotton balls, and single-use syringes tucked away next to vials of something Roman couldn’t quite make out. 

"Space, or whatever you said, just hurry up."

Once bandaged and back on the road, Roman sat with his arms crossed and his head against the window. The cool glass and bumpy roads soothed Roman as he tried to forget the events of that morning.

He could still see the look on that little girl's face, that smile with far too many teeth.

He could still taste her blood in the back of his throat.

Roman stole a glance at Peter, wondering how much his companion knew, whether or not he saw what a monster Roman truly was.

Peter brushed a lock of hair from his face, focused on the road.

Roman couldn't help but stare, his eyes tracing the silhouette of Peter's face. He brushed his thumb across the bandage on his finger, wondering why anyone would ever willingly care for him.

"Remind me to pick up a pack of hair dealies," Peter said, tucking an unruly lock of hair behind his ear. 

"Hair dealies?" Roman asked with a snort. "You're gonna call me out for saying punch buggy and then turn around and call them hair dealies?"

Peter huffed, searching for a rubber band in the center console, but finding nothing. He reached across Roman’s lap to open the glovebox, but was only met with a pile of napkins and a stack of maps.

Roman dug in his pocket, producing the hair tie he had found in the cafe bathroom.

"Here," He said, practically shoving it at Peter. "Hair tie."

Peter looked at it a moment before taking both hands off the wheel to tie up his hair. The car swerved for a moment, but Peter steadied the wheel with his knees.

"Better?" Roman asked, smiling at the sight of Peter in such a glittery accessory.

"It's a little tight, where did you say you got it again?"

"Don't worry about it."

#bri babbles #nothing for us #hemlock grove #hemlock grove fanfiction #romancek #roman godfrey #peter rumancek #I missed these boys so much