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violetmina · 1 year

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Chokehold - Ch. 5

Chokehold Masterlist

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Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,895

Warning: Swearing, mild violence and injury, threats of bodily harm, alcohol, pervy assholes being pervy, sexual tension. And probably the biggest warning of all - Butcher.

A/N: I honestly don't know if I love or hate this chapter. But we're gonna blame a certain song by Sam the Sham & The Pharaohs for how this ended. Got stuck in my head, gave me ideas and wouldn't fucking let go. I'm praying it's not too cheesy. Enjoy.

By the time Butcher had returned with a bounty of greasy Chinese takeout, you had managed to put your epiphanies in the back of your mind and recomposed your face. You had work to do and admittedly you were feeling a little famished. A desk with a simple chair was crammed against the wall opposite the beds, a TV perched haphazardly above it. Butcher had swung one of the ends out so you could sit on your bed to eat while he took residency of the chair. Under his bulk it looked almost child-sized and creaked frequently.

After he had worked through half of his entree you decide to finally breach the previous topic. "What do you think? Are we following Frank, getting him to talk or…?"

Butcher finishes a thick bite of lo mein before he answers. "Find him first. Lucky for us, the delivery guy was a chatty type. Got him to talking and he mentioned that the science guys from the big city usually start clocking out and hitting the nightlife around seven. Gives us about six hours before we head to the bar."

"So we start tonight. That helps with our time crunch. But again, if he shows up, what are we doing?"

"That depends," Butcher shrugs and sneaks another bite. "Ideally we'll be able to watch him for a bit then follow him home. Much easier for me to get him to talk without witnesses."

"What if we can get him to do both?," you ask. "We let some liquor loosen his lips. And when he staggers out, he leads us home."

"Can't rely on him getting drunk," Butcher shakes his head. "Even arseholed, he's gonna be real skittish about two randoms asking him questions. And if he's gambling, which he's there to do, he'll be uptight from the word go."

"Would splitting up be the better option?," you inquire after a bite of rice. "Especially if he might have friends from the lab there. One of us could take Frank, the other another scientist, and when he leaves we follow him."

Butcher wipes some sauce from his lip, shaking his head. "I told you, best chance getting him to spill his guts is outta sight. Not in the bar, and not if he's got friends."

"Who says you have to talk to him in the bar?" He pins you with a confused look. You shrug. "You could try to work the locals or the other scientists for information. And it's not how I usually handle things, but maybe Frank will be less receptive to you, and a little more open to…feminine wiles?"

He stabs his chopsticks into his food, a brow shooting to his hairline. "You're suggesting we go in there, have you try to hustle Frank for intel while I distract his buddies somewhere in the bar?" He shakes his head. "Nah. Not liking it."

"Why not? What else are we going to do?"

"For starters," Butcher says as he begins to tick off on his fingers, "It's risky splitting up. Secondly, who says Frank is into 'feminine wiles'? And lastly, if you don't wanna be treated like a kid, don't ask me to play babysitter."

"I didn't ask you to!," you snap. "I can handle this! We're not really splitting up, we'll be in the same bar. And who says Frank doesn't swing both ways, hm?"

He waves a hand at you dismissively, stuffing his mouth with more lo mein. You start for another bite of food yourself but stop and sigh instead. "I've told this to Hughie," you say softly. "I shouldn't have to tell you of all people. Don't treat me with kid gloves. If you throw me in the deep end and I start to drown…well then, I learn to swim. Or I drown."

"Not on my fucking watch, you won't," Butcher replies in a low voice, steely eyes flashing.

You meet his gaze, refraining from fidgeting. "Then trust me to swim, Butcher." He stares at you for a moment before he sighs and looks down. "I know you don't like it. But what other options do we really have?"

He doesn't answer for a long moment, slowly twisting his chopsticks. Finally, just as you try to think of how to argue, he looks back up at you. "I'm gonna need to scope out the bar within the next hour or two. When I come back, we'll devise a way to communicate when we divide and conquer. Savvy?"

^^^

After the takeout has been devoured, Butcher quickly heads out the door to look over Danny-Boy's. You suspect he's also brooding over having you there but you figure he'll just have to deal with it. You glance over at his open bag, spotting a couple sidearms, and some bugs and tracking devices you've seen the Boys use before. An idea sprouts in your mind when your phone buzzes, diverting you from snooping further with a text. It's Hughie.

Missed seeing you in the office today. I'm sorry. I really hope you're ok.

A little wave of petty, bitterness washes over you. But you take a deep breath before you let your fingers lash out a response. You consider calling him to chew him out for yesterday, but you're supposed to be ill and you don't dare risk the possibility of him realizing what you're really up to. That and the risk of Neuman suddenly tapping your phones loomed at the back of your mind.

I'm ok, you reply. Nothing I can't handle. I didn't want to bring crap to work. Hope to see you soon.

Satisfied for the moment, you turned your attention to the upcoming recon. You had packed with other scenarios in mind, like, say, running for your life, or swinging your FBSA credentials if need be. Not that you were high ranking but people didn't need to know that little detail. You looked over the few clothing options you had with a frown. None of these screamed seductress to you but you settled on dark pants and a silky black blouse. Practicality had made you ditch the stilettos at home, but you had brought a pair of wedge pumps that were neither too high or low that you favored at work. Maybe, just maybe, you could swing for a subtle, sexy secretary look.

That thought alone made you cringe as you left the ensemble out on the bed and put away the rest of your clothes. Why did I suggest going this route, again? Did I really just volunteer to be a cliche?

You shrug off the distaste of the idea and head into the shower. You're not into the lingering scent of Chinese food and sweat, and you doubt Frank will be either. The motel water pressure is subpar but the temp is to your liking, and you make quick work of scrubbing clean. When you step out and begin to dry, you wonder if Butcher has returned.

The instant your mind starts to idle over the idea of him just a few feet and a door away while you're undressed, you squash it. It reminds you of the night ahead of you and you bite back a groan of frustration. Don't make this night any longer than it has to be, you admonish your lurid mind. Stick to the plan, deal with Frank, get back here safely. One hurdle at a time.

You speed through drying your hair and applying the minimal makeup you had brought, sticking to subtlety over flashy. You sneak one more look over Butcher's bag, and about the time you're stepping into your shoes, he comes breezing through the door. "Not a bad little place. If we stick close to the bar, we might actually be able to signal each other without a fuss."

"So what are our signals? We doing it by phone? Body language?" When he doesn't reply, you look up from finishing your shoes. You're not sure if he's looking at you or through you. You wave a hand at his zoned out expression. "Hey Butcher! How's Binky the spaceman doing?"

He blinks, snapping out of whatever weird daze he's in to give you a rueful smile. "I do hate to bring it up but uh…" He makes a wave in your general direction. "Is this how you intend to lure Mr. Lazzell?"

Your eyes widen and you give him an indignant scoff, standing up as you cross your arms. "I wasn't exactly planning on going clubbing when 'recon' came up. Am I seriously about to get wardrobe advice from Billy Butcher? Mister 'my shirts make the blind weep'?"

"Only 'cause I make this shit look good," he smirks, holding out his arms wide. He ignores your eyeroll and strides towards you as he continues, "Not so much fashion advice, love. More like…friendly advice as a man. If you're gonna play the bait, this needs just a bit of fine tuning."

He scratches his chin in a dramatic pose of musing and motions with a finger to give a twirl. You give him an incredulous look but he does it again. You heave a sigh and do a quick turn. A snide remark is on the tip of your tongue but suddenly disappears when his fingers slip into your hair and musses it ever so slightly. Then they drop down, fiddle with your collar for the briefest moment, thumbing the smooth fabric.

"Nice shirt on you," he mumbles with a faint nod. Next thing you know, you feel his knuckles brush against your skin as he swiftly pops open the first two buttons of your blouse. You blanch back out of his reach, too startled to manage more than a breathy curse and wide eyes.

"There. Can't go wrong with a touch of bedhead and a little skin," he says with a devilish grin, wagging his brows.

"How about a little warning, asshole!?," you snap, finally finding your voice. You can feel just a tinge of color in your face that you can't repress, so you focus on remaining indignant. "I could have done that myself! And just because you hate buttons, doesn't mean the rest of us do! Jesus!"

You look down, grateful that you're not as exposed as you feel. But there's definitely a peek of sternum and the v-neck highlights your collarbone now. "The things I do for this job," you mutter as you smooth out the blouse.

He turns away and calls your attention to start devising a code. And you try to focus. But in the hours before leaving the motel, you question if you imagined his gaze lingering just a second too long where his fingers had been.

^^^

As it turns out, Butcher was right; Danny-Boy's wasn't too bad for a little sports bar and club. The outside was unassuming white brick with a crimson stripe around the top. Inside, however, was rather clean and sleek. The bar itself stretched out like a long island in the middle of the floor, well-polished dark wood highlighted in cool-toned led strips. Above it TVs followed its length, all flashing one game or another, their light just barely reaching into the dark ceiling. Along the right wall clung several booths, one of which you currently occupied in the corner.

From here you had a good vantage point of overlooking the entire bar, as well a decent view of the dance floor stretching from half the left side to the back left corner, guarding the restrooms. It's also from here you can just see the billiards tables through the growing evening crowd, comprising the front half of the club. At one of them is Butcher, already engaged in a game with two younger men. You're not certain if they're locals or from the lab. But even you pick up the air of inexperience about them from across the room, and you suspect the poor duo are being hustled out of money as much as they are information.

You poor suckers, you think, recognizing that look of Butcher when he's calculating and adapting three or four steps ahead. No rush, throwing out jovial bits of false hope, biding his time like a shark slowly circling in. Hope you're betting low.

As rivulets of people begin to come through the door again, you check the time on your phone. It's almost nine-thirty and doubt begins to gnaw at you. If Frank was planning to come after work for his gambling fix, he should have been there by now. A few patrons have already gathered in small groups under the TVs, placing bets on their phones and amongst themselves.

Just as you begin to wonder if this was going to be in vain, you spot him. You recognize the pug-like face, eyes too big in a gaunt mask. Besides his face, he is the most vague human being you've seen. Average height, build, maybe hint of pudge at the middle, brunette hair cropped a little too close to the scalp. If you weren't deliberately looking for him, he'd probably just be a body in the crowd. He's perched near the end of the bar, barely on the fringes of a group taking bets.

You waste no time and calmly remove yourself from the booth to head for Frank. When you're halfway up the bar, you glance in Butcher's direction. He's lining up a shot in a corner pocket and when he looks down the cue stick in your direction, you make a motion of scratching the outer corner of your right eye; Target spotted. To your relief, Butcher pauses in his shot to mimic the motion, then sinks a striped ball; Copy that.

You quickly slink up onto the stool on Frank's right, wedging your way past a disgruntled frat boy type who takes the seat next to you. As you settle in the crowded space at the bar, you place your hand on Frank's shoulder with a little squeeze, pretending to crane over him to peer at the alcohol selection.

He scowls at the hand on his shoulder, but out of the corner of your eye you watch his gaze trail up your arm, the hint of collarbone and…start to smile. There's the hook, you think, suppressing the instant repulsion you feel at not so subtly being ogled.

"Sorry," you chirp over the noise, withdrawing your hand and plopping back down on the stool to turn to face him. "Couldn't see. Been a long day and I need a stiff drink. And a little luck."

"Luck hasn't been much of a lady for me. But maybe you can," he leers. "I'm Frank. Are you a betting gal, Miss…?"

There's his line. "My friends call me Red," you give him your alias with a smile. "And tonight I am. But I'm embarrassed." You wave your phone in your hand with a shrug. "I'm new to this mobile thing."

"How about you let me buy you a drink and I'll teach you?"

Your smile turns to a grin, more from surprise at how stupid easy Frank is making this than part of your act. "I think you just saved my day, Frank."

He turns all too eagerly to track down the bartender. You seize the moment to pretend to look around the bar and find Butcher again. The two young men seem to be arguing about risking another game with him, and he casts his eyes just over their shoulders in time to catch you hooking your thumb in your pocket and tap two fingers on your leg; Engaging, standby. Butcher shifts his eyes back to the duo like he's bored, rocks on his heels and mimics you again.

You fight back a laugh, absently fidgeting with the gadget in your pocket. God this is way easier than I thought.

^^^

Two hours in, however, you wonder if you had unintentionally jinxed you both. When the first Long Island Iced Tea showed up -not a small one either - and Frank had insisted, you knew then his goal; get you drunk as soon as possible. It was to be expected, but you still had to bite back the anger at the creep. You had tried to pace yourself, sipping as you picked at him for tidbits of info in the name of flirtatious small talk. He had not been as cooperative as you hoped, and the less you chugged, the more bored he seemed to become.

That wouldn't do. So you changed tactics, you drank a little faster but amped up the theatrics. To a degree it was successful. The more you started to slur, the more you would begin to sway, the more Frank would drink himself. Even at one point you'd given a drunken giggle loud enough to catch Butcher's attention, and you caught the hard, annoyed look he'd shot your target. Getting intel outta him around the bad flirting and god-awful innuendo was like pulling teeth, but you managed.

The first drink was long gone by that point. You're just starting to work on another when Frank's phone starts to buzz impatiently. At first, you thought it was gambling results. He's clearly not on a winning streak. But his growing agitation tells you something's off. Out of the blurring corner of your eye you spot Butcher again. The duo are growing suspicious, or just tired of losing money. He's losing their attention, too, and Butcher taps the face of his watch as he leans against the pool table. That one is pretty clear; Hurry the fuck up.

"Y'know, sweetheart," Frank snaps your attention back, glancing at his phone. "You seem like a lot of fun. Really, but -" His screen glares again and he curses. You realize that you're losing him and very precious time.

"Aww, c'mon, Frankie. Don't be like that," you croon, slipping a hand out of your pocket. You flash a fifty dollar bill before dropping it on the bar before him. "Let's make a bet. You like bets, don'tcha?"

Frank greedily eyes both the cash and your hand fiddling with your blouse buttons. "You know I love a good bet. But I don't know…" He starts to rub the back of his neck and you feel it in your gut that he's rapidly slipping. At that same moment, you realize that the duo are slamming down the last of their losses on the pool table and shuffling out with their tails between their legs. You have to act. Now.

You tug on Frank's sleeve to pull his hand from his neck and slip one hand in the collar of his coat, deep like Butcher had shown you. But you don't go for a choke. Instead, making sure your fingers are tight in the collar, you pull him towards you. "I bet," you slur in his ear, "you can't figure out the color of my bra before you get me home."

When you slowly release your grip and he leans back, you have to fight the urge to slap the lecherous look off his face. The sound of a ringtone amongst the music and chatter however spares you, and you both glance at the interrupting device. You catch a glimpse of a name before he groans, and looks at you like a kid that's been denied a toy at the store.

"I gotta go," he grumbles. "You have no idea how sorry-! Shit!" And he's sliding away from the bar and answering the call before you can say anything. You catch Butcher's eye as he puts away his cue stick and there's no need for a signal. He slinks against the wall and through the crowd, eyes on Frank's receding form.

You sigh and turn back to the bar with a bit of relief. Not quite what you planned, but thank God you didn't have him call you on your bluff. You shudder at the idea. Now you just needed to head back to the motel and wait for Butcher to follow him wherever and -.

And a hiccup slips past your lips. You blink at the bar, slowly slipping the fifty back in your pocket as you feel a slight tilt in the room. It suddenly hits you that maybe it wasn't all theatrics. You might actually be a little more inebriated than you realized. When you go to slip off the stool, your ankle almost rolls under you and confirms your suspicion.

Oh, you think as a giggle bubbles out of your throat. Well shit. Oops.

As you start to look about to find the front door a hand wraps around your wrist. You turn in confusion. It's the frat boy, the one that's been sitting next to you. "Hey, sugar. Where are you going?"

Oh shit. You gotta be kidding.

"I'm heading out," you say as dryly as you can manage. "I've got friends waiting for me -."

"Kinda overheard you and whats-his-face." His grip tightens on your wrist and in that moment you realize that you can't remember any of the escapes Butcher taught you. You're too foggy. "His loss," frat boy leers. "But I'm game, sugar. I'll take that bet."

"Not betting with you, asshole!" You try to wrestle out of his grip but you stumble instead. Alarm bells start to go off in your head.

"As a matter of fact, I bet I'll figure out the color before we get outside to-"

"There you are!"

Both you and the frat boy jump when an arm wraps around your shoulders. Butcher smiles down at you and you blink to make sure you're not seeing things. But the weight and warmth around your shoulders feels real enough. "I've been looking for you, Red. Bachelorette party starts in fifteen minutes, the brides gonna have both our heads if her maid of honor's late!"

Even in your fog, you jump on the lifeline. "Shit, fifteen?! I thought I still had an hour," you whine. "I'm sorry. I was just leaving, I swear."

"It's alright. Thanks for holding this one down for me, mate," Butcher says to the frat boy, giving him a firm slap on the back before reaching for your ensnared wrist. "She's a little wild. I'll take her from here."

"I don't give a shit, dude!" You wince when the grip on you tightens. "She’s not go-!"

Your captor's words cut off into a little squeal when Butcher's grip locks on his wrist and cranks. You think you hear a slight crackling sound over the din of the bar as Butcher's eyes grow wide and far too bright. It's almost manic. "You wanna play odds with me, son? How much you wanna wager I'll scatter all your fucking teeth across this bar in thirty seconds or less?"

When the frat boy only whines a mantra of "sorry" in response, cradling his arm and leaning far from you, Butcher scoffs and releases him. The manic look fades as quickly as it came. He nearly seems disappointed. His arm slips down your back and around your waist, pulling you in to lean on him. Your arm closest snakes around him the same, your other hand splaying blindly across his shirt. "C'mon, Red. Don't wanna be late."

You have some balance but it's far from graceful as he guides you across the floor, towards the front door. You try to glance up to look at him but nearly trip over air. "Butcher, about Fra-"

"Not a fucking word," he snaps just loud enough for you to hear. "Not here."

You purse your lips and focus on walking. When you stagger out through the entrance, leaving the hot, cramped atmosphere of the bar, the outside air crashes over you in cool relief. For a split second, your mind clears…and it quickly registers what just happened, and Butcher's fingers digging sharply into your waist. You swallow thickly, wincing at the aftertaste of the alcohol in your gullet.

Crossing the gravel parking lot is much slower going, Butcher having to catch you from nearly collapsing once or twice when your ankles would falter. But it's a bit of smoother sailing once you reach the sidewalk, and you glimpse the motel waiting up the way. You suffer the thick silence until you're about two-thirds of the way back, and finally dare to speak.

"This wasn't part of the plan-"

"Oh! Really?!"

"I tried not to get drunk!," you mirror his snippy attitude, grimacing when you stumble again.

"Well fuck me sideways if I could tell!," he sneers. "What with all that coquette, eyelash batting, giggling what-the-fuck you were doing, a couple free drinks didn't seem to bother you none."

"Oh fuck off with that," you groan. "He wouldn't play along unless he thought…Well, you know. I tried damn it."

"And look where that got us. I manage to line my pocket with a few more bills, but learned nearly fuck all on Vought or the lab. Our main lead is gone in the bloody wind, and you three sheets to it."

"He's not gone in the wind."

"I don't know if you noticed, darlin', but I didn't tail him long enough to catch his cab! Had to come in and play your goddamn babysitter-!"

"Butcher!"

"WHAT?!"

He brings you to an abrupt stop at the curb. The motel sits just across the intersection now. You take a deep breath, making sure your footing is steady before slowly looking up at him and the snarl twisting his lip. "Please listen to me. Just fucking humor me. Lazzell is not in the wind. Look at your phone."

"What does my-!?"

"Oh my god! Pleeeease!," you groan. "Just check your goddamn phone."

He glares for a second, the snarl twisting further before he dives into his pocket and yanks out his phone. The light from his screen illuminates his face and how his brows slowly crease. "The fuck is this?"

"Did you really think I'd go in without some kinda insurance?" You can't help the corners of your lip twitch into a sly smile.

He turns from his phone to peer down at you. "You went through my stuff? You nicked one of my bugs! You-!"

You can't help the smile from growing wider when he stops. You can practically see the lightbulb go on over his head as the scowl drops. "Turns out that, uh, that collar grip you taught me isn't just good for chokes," you say gleefully.

"You planted one of my bugs on him." It's hard to tell if it's a statement or a question. Either way, a smile of his own starts to form as he puts away his phone.

"Aaand before he dashed out the door I saw he was getting a phone call from somebody. A contact listed under 'Walsh'. Now who do you think that might be?" An uncontrollable giggle slips out of you and dances in your next words. "Ended up drunk and I still planted the bug without getting caught. On a moving target! Suck on that, Hughie!"

He stares at you for a moment before breaking into a grin. His arm tightens around you, squeezing you hard enough to cut off your giggle, and placing his other hand on the side of your face. "You fucking, cheeky beauty!," he says with a laugh of his own and plants a quick kiss on your brow. It's less than half a second. But if the alcohol didn't make you feel all warm and tingly, that certainly did, and you grin as big as him.

He pulls back, holding up a stern finger between you. "Nice one. But don't you ever go through my shit again."

"Don't go through my buttons," you hiccup.

He quirks a brow. "How many drinks did he ply you with?"

"Pretty sure that was, uh, the third?" You nod slowly. "Yeah, left the third Long Island on the bar. With the douchebag."

"C'mon, you fucking lightweight," he shrugs you back into position. "You should start sleeping that off. We gonna be busy tomorrow."

"Fuck you. You…yer a lightweight," you grumble. Butcher only smirks as he guides you across the street and over the parking lot. When you just about reach the trunk of the car you speak again.

"Hey Billy? 'Bout back there…with the douche. I really didn't mean for you to have to save me. I hate that, you're not a babysitter."

"Don't worry bout it, love," he grunts as he swings you up the short step and lets you lean against the doorframe as he digs one handed for his keycard. His other hand rests on the small of your back.

"No, really," you press, now in more hushed tones as there's a slight shift in gravity. You grab his shoulder for a little balance. "Thanks fer…for breaking that guy's wrist. I mean, I think you broke it…Coulda been real bad for me."

He chuckles as he struggles sliding in the card. "Cunt deserved it. And I told ya, didn't I? Not gonna let you drown."

You can't help but smile. You rest your head on the doorframe, feeling a different shift as you watch him, noticing the little threads of silver in his beard, the ones beginning to dust his temples and the shape of the scar there. The door finally beeps and he pops the handle, coiling his arm back around your waist. He meets your eyes as if he's about to say something but it fades and he stares with a look of…surprise? Concern? It's there and then gone, like a mirage replaced with that glower look you know so well. "You really shouldn't do that. Don't look at me like that," he says gruffly.

"Like what?"

He looks away as he starts to sidle you through the door. "Like I'm fucking Prince Charming."

"Oh," you whisper. You try not to worry your lip as you stumble after him. That's not the alcohol warming your cheeks and suddenly the carpet looks very, very interesting. But your sloshed little brain replays his words and you snort, "You are definitely not Prince Charming."

"Oh, so you did notice?," he quips, nudging the door shut with his boot.

"No, no, no, you misunderstand," you insist as he awkwardly shuffles you towards your bed in the dark, cramped space. "Prince Charming is a lie, Butcher. He's a lie."

"The fuck you going on about?," he mutters into your hair, peeling back your covers with his free hand.

"He's a lie! With his too big smile, and, and with the rehearsed pickup lines he doesn't mean, and promises he never keeps. You know who the Charmings are?," you ask as he coaxes you to sit on the bed and taps the lamp on the lowest setting.

"No, who-? Oi! Don't reach for those bloody shoes like that! You want a concussion, that it?!" He rights you with a hand on your shoulder and only kneels down when he's certain you won't topple over. "Just fucking sit still, will ya?"

"You wanna know who? The Deep. And Homelander. And A-train. All those fuckers. To use your favorite word, Prince Charming is just the grandmaster cunt."

He shakes his head, grumbling something about your footwear. But you don't hear him and prattle on. "But I have a theory. I think the fairytales got all spun on us. We shouldn't want Charming. It's…" You shrug. "It's the wolf."

Butcher looks up at you just looking all the world like he is done with you. "The wolf?," he asks flatly. You nod. "The big, bad wolf? You sure it was only three drinks?"

"Hear me out. The wolf wasn't really bad, just doing what any animal does to live. Still more honest than Charming, anyway. Ya know? And wolves are loyal…Loyal to the point of violence." You wince when Butcher yanks off the first shoe. He gives you an amused glance as he chucks it into a corner.

"Oh thank you," you sigh. "That's so much better…Maybe that's what this fucked up world needs. For us to be a little more wolfish." An idea flits in your mind and you hum as a lazy smile crosses your face. "Besides, can't argue with what they said in the stories. The wolf will hear you better, he'll see you better and clearly e-ee-eeee…Um…"

You suddenly remember who the hell you're talking to. And you trail off when you discover that the amused look on Butcher's face has changed. His lips are curled into a smirk you're not used to. And you're sure it's the alcohol running with your train of thought, twisting your perception. But suddenly in the low light, his wild locks remind you of dark, thick fur. And you know damn well his eyes are hazel but for a split second, you could've sworn they looked gold. And feral.

"Don't mind me," he says, his voice in a deeper register than before. "You were saying?"

He slips off your other shoe, letting it clatter to the floor as his hand slides up your ankle to the back of your knee. He sits up taller on his heels. He doesn't blink.

"I, uh…I guess…I-I forgot," you breathe. Your face feels far too warm. When did you get so heady?

"How about you remind me, lil' Red? How's the story go?" He raises three fingers on one hand, the other rubbing lazy circles about your knee with his thumb. "Let's see…Eyes to see you better…Ears to hear you better…" He slowly lowers the last finger and leans in. "What are the teeth for, my dear?"

Your lips part but words fail you as you stare back at him. You feel a little dizzy but you're not sure you can blame the liquor anymore. Those firm fingers now gripping your thigh, however…

The next breath you take shudders loudly in the space between you. You try to piece a coherent answer and instead another hiccup bubbles out. You clap a hand over your mouth, startled.

Butcher looks at your hand over your mouth for a long while. Then lowers his eyes and sighs. "Aww fuck. Fucking hell." He shakes his head. "This ain't no bloody fairytale at all."

A confused crease forms between your brows. "What's that mean?"

"It means," Butcher says quietly, shifting an arm under both your knees and the other behind your back, "That you, love, are drunk off your ass." He tilts you back onto the bed and you groan as everything spins. "And you're already gonna hate yourself enough when that hangover finds you in the morning."

"M'not tired," you slur, turning on your side, face halfway in the pillow.

"Sure you're not." He pulls the coverlet and sheets up to your shoulders. "Shut your eyes and have a little kip."

"Wait," you yawn as you hear the jangle of keys. Your fingers snag his coat sleeve when he turns off the lamp. There's a glow in his other hand. Your brain slowly recognizes it as his phone. "Billy? Where you going?"

"Shhhhhh." Your eyes ignore your attempts to stay awake and slip closed at the sound. "I'll be back. Go to sleep, lil' Red." The sleeve slips from your fingers and the door clicks shut, but you never hear them. It's the warm whisper in your ear you hear last before sleep curls around you.

"The wolf's going hunting."

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys fanfic

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igotanidea · 2 years

Text

Clingy - Matt Murdock x reader

Story asked by anon:

Hey, I know it's kinda cliche but could you please write frank(or matt, or poly fratt)/f!reader getting into huge argument, reader is called clingy etc, so she stops giving any kind of attention to frank/matt, with happy ending 🥺❤

Hope you enjoy :)

A/N: There's a little easter egg in this story, marked with (*). I wonder if you will come up with the source of this reference :D

- Hi, Mattie – I opened the door to his apartment and immediately went t hug my boyfriend. Regardless of the fact that he was a bit distant of late I still kept my affectionate attitude towards him. Matt could be … harsh, especially after his night shift, but deep inside I always knew he appreciated my love language. – How was work today? – I embraced him from behind breathing in his signature smell

- Hello, honey – no difference this time as he leaned into my touch, all his body slowly relaxing as my hands move towards his shoulders – same old, same old, you?

-Stressful, not gonna lie about that. But I’m home now with you, so maybe we could have a nice, peaceful evening together?

-I don’t know about the evening – he hedged and turned to face me – but how about I make you dinner instead? We can talk and then….. – I already knew what he was going to say

- Mattie, please…. You can take one night off. I know you think this whole damn city needs you, but I do to. I need you tonight. Please – I cupped his cheek – please, stay. Don’t make a girl beg. – I smiled sadly.

-As much as I love to hear you beg for me….

- Stop teasing, Murdock. Please, please say yes. – now I grabbed his hand and interlaced our finger to remind him how well they fit together. How comforting and satisfying it will be for him to be with me instead of running the street getting beaten up. – Please? – I pouted and made puppy eyes. He may not have seen them but surely he knew how I was playing.

- Damn it, honey, you can be so convincing at times.

- Believe me, I’m only getting started.

***

So he stayed with me. We haven’t really had an evening together for weeks now and I was truly going crazy because of the time apart. Sadly, he did not seem to care or at least care in the same way I did. I mean, I knew well enough that his love language was more acts of service which he was showing as Daredevil, but I needed touch. That was the way I was showing affection. Hence after having dinner I just made him lay down with me and embraced him tightly. The light in Hell’s kitchen was slowly dying, most of the people were safe in the houses, the movement and haze slowly coming to halt. That was the moment to bring another part of my plan into life. Gradually, almost inconspicuously I slided my left hand up, moving towards his hair, massaging his scalp, earning a small groan from him.

- Mattie – I muttered against his chest, fingers of my left hand tracing shapes there – I meant what I said… I need you.

- Do you now? – he shifted his position, grabbing my waist and facing me.

- Not just now. Always.

-I like the sound of that, darling – painfully slowly he climbed up on top of me and pressed his lips on mine with hunger and passion.

I could not hold back a moan. God, how I missed this. His touch, his undivided attention towards me. I didn't even realize how neglected I truly felt for the last couple days. Our kiss was becoming more passionate, Matt slowly moved his mouth to my neck, collarbone and breast.

- You’re breathing has fastened, darling. What is the cause of that? –he smirked, his hot breath on my skin.

- I don’t know – I gasped as his hands moved under my shirt, caressing my ribs and skin just below the bra - it's not like there’s anyone or anything to turn me on.

- Isn’t it? – he resumed his little kisses and bites, which were definitely going to leave a mark the next today – maybe this no one should try harder than? What do you think, sweetie?

-It’s always worth a shot. But I would suggest picking up the pace – I buried my hands in his messy hair as Matt started kissing my stomach.

-You are so impatient…..

- Can you blame me? You are the one who left me ….. – suddenly he raised his head, tilting it slightly towards the window as if he heard something. I was less than happy about it and was not going to hide my annoyance – why did you stop? – I whined – come back to me – I reached my hands towards him in best effort to make him resume, but he shook them like an irritating fly.

-Could you not? I’m trying to …. – he hissed

- Matt. Don’t. You promised me. No Daredevil stuff tonight, remember? I….

- Oh for god’s sake! Someone is in serious danger, why can’t you understand that. Do you really want me to leave someone in need? Is that what you want? If someone ends up dead because you kept me here, would you be able to deal with that?

-I don’t want to ….

- Shit! Why are you so clingy and selfish?! – he jumped up from the bed leaving me both unsatisfied and frozen by the words.

-Clingy? – I repeated - Selfish? - anger was rising inside of me– is that what you really think? That I ask my boyfriend of too much? God! Matt! I just wanted you to be with me. Like really be with me. With both your body and mind, but you always seem to be elsewhere!

- You don’t understand it. No one does.

- You know what, you are right. I don’t. All this time I was here, dealing with what you doing by night, never saying a single word of complain – I started gathering my things and fixing my clothes. – Tending to your wounds, hugging you when you needed, giving you comfort…

-Well, I’m not like you! I’m not going to just sit and do nothing while there are bad people there. If you don’t understand it by now, then maybe we should not be together.

Oh, how painful words can be. Like a knife straight to the heart. I opened my mouth, unable to process what he just said to me. Was he breaking up with me? I really thought we were having a moment but apparently it passed. For good. A single tear rolled down my cheek but I quickly wiped it off. Matt has this signature look on his face, when he knew I started crying but said nothing. His whole body and gazeless eyes full of regret when he took a step forward, but I instantly backed off.

- Goodbye, Murdock – I managed to say before sprinting out the door, shutting them behind me. As soon as I was out of his reach I leaned over the entry from without, falling to the ground, sobbing from all the harshness coming from my boyfriend. Or maybe ex-boyfriend, since I had no idea where this mess left us.

He knew. He perfectly knew I was crying my heart out on his doorstep and yet he did nothing about it. He went to help some poor soul of hell’s kitchen. I was barely capable of moving and it was already dark outside so with shaking hands I retrieved my phone from the bag and called the only person I could trust with everything that happened, Matt’s superhero alter-ego included.

-Foggy – I sobbed – I need your help. Can you please pick me up from Matt’s?

***

- What happened? – Franklin Nelson aka Foggy, Matt’s and my best friend run the stairs losing his breath somewhere in the middle. Between the call I made and his arrival I managed to calm myself down and was now just staring into the wall, numbness overwhelming my whole body. - Hey, hotshot, what’s the emergency?

- I think Matt and I just broke up.

-Wait, what? No way. I don’t believe that. What exactly went on? Is there any chance you are overreacting? – he crouched next to me, patting my knee in attempted reassurance.

- I never overreact, you know that. I am not like those girls who make a mountain out of a molehill.

-I know – he sighed – but hey I’m trying my best here.

- I know – I sighed gathering myself – sorry, Foggy. That came out way harsher than intended.

- No offence taken. Now, talk to me – he looked me straight into the eyes – What went down?

- He left me.

- What? – Foggy frowned in confusion.

- We were … you know – I waved my hand trying to make it as little awkward as possible - having a moment and then he just heard some voices or maybe screaming, don’t know, don’t care, and went to do his devil shit.

- Oh, oh, that is bad. A girl should never be left undone.

- Foggy! – I gasped scolding him and hiding my face in hands.

- What? - he shrugged – it’s universal truth. Now, I believe Matt is in dire need of a good lawyer.

- And why is that?

- Because if you ever decide to press charges for jeopardizing your integrity and destroying a relationship I will be your legal representation - he smiled proudly and I couldn't hold back the tiniest of smiles - As we all know, I am a hell of a good lawyer, so Murdock won’t ever realise what hit him.

- What would I do without you and your infallible sense of humour? – I let out a little laugh

- You would be rooting on the floor outside Matt’s apartment – now, get up before you get sick from the coldness. Let’s get you home. Or maybe you want to stay at my place?

It took me a minute to convince him that I’ll be fine to spend the night at my own. However, since I was dealing with a lawyer, he made me promise I will walk to work with him the next day. It was going to be awkward, since it was Thursday and on Thursdays and Fridays I was always helping Nelson&Murdock in their administration work and papers. Seemed like a long way to weekend.

***

It wasn’t as awkward as I imagined.

It was way worse.

For the entire day Matt was just successfully ignoring me, talking to clients, Karen and Foggy and one time even to the neighbour from across the floor, everyone but me.

So I had no choice but to requite like for like. If there was anything, anything that required Matt’s decision or attention I spoke to him through the other member of the law firm. Foggy was familiar with the situation and he was dealing with it, but Karen was far more impatient and irritated by being used as a messenger between Matt and me.

-Ok, that is enough! – she finally snapped confronting us – what the hell is going on between you two?

- Nothing – Matt spoke first – everything is going on well, isn’t it, honeybee?

- Right – I confirmed crossing arms over chest – perfectly. Just, you know, normal relationship hitting rock bottom due to some particular circumstances.

- Oh my god, did you guys have a fight?

- No – we said in unison.

- We had a um...., a talk - Matthew explained turning his head away – nothing to worry about. Now, I got to get back to work.

- Yeah, nothing to stress over. I have work to do too. After all, someone I used to know is a workaholic on two utterly different fields so perhaps I should follow the lead – I walked the opposite direction of the room while Matt locked himself in his office.

- Guys … - Karen throw her hands up making greatest, yet completely futile effort to make us come to terms with each other. I wasn’t sure if there were any pieces left to pick.

- It’s fine, Karen, really, don’t worry about it. And by the way I will probably be taking a day off tomorrow, so …

- I almost forgot – Matt emerged from his office – I have some things to take care out of the office tomorrow so you will be on your own. No worries – he looked towards my direction, once again this sad, almost apologising look on his face.

That bastard heard my every word and outhustled me! I should be mad because of the games he was playing so why was it that I had a feeling he was trying to make it better?

***

Friday passed without any troubles. With Matt out of the office the atmosphere became lighter as after work me, Karen and Foggy went out to Josie’s for a drink. It was their suggestions that now I was probably fresh out-of-relationship (because Karen was smart enough to wrap her head around the situation) I should clear my head and maybe flirt with someone else. I passed hard on the latter and gladly accepted the former. Broken heart needed time to heal. I couldn’t just jump straight forward into a fling. However, even if that was my opinion on the matter, some dudes at the bar had minds of their own.

-I’m going to grab us drinks – I offered standing up from the table and heading towards the bar while Karen and Foggy were playing (Karen) and trying to play (Foggy) billiard.

-Hey, doll – one of the man sitting by the counter – how about I buy you one? Such a pretty face should not be here all by herself – he moved closer. Too close for comfort and I instinctively moved back.

-I’m not alone. I’m with my friends, over there – I glanced towards my companions.

- They see rather busy with each other – the second man came from my other side, so now I was squeezed between them, my heart race fastening significantly – how about we take care of you, pretty one? – he laid a hand on my tight putting some unpleasant pressure on it.

-I can take care of myself – I assured .

-Sure you can, doll. But a man’s attention is always worth it, trust me, you won’t regret hanging out with us. – ok, now they were definitely too close and sure as hell way to touchy, Foggy has now realized what was going on and was heading my direction but someone else was faster.

- I suggest you leave the girl alone – of course it was Murdock. I wondered why the fate decided to mock me that way.

-And what will you do if we won’t? – the first man eyed Matt up and down – It’s not like you can beat us, blind man.

- You have uneven breathing – Matt spoke calmly not even reffering to the previous sentence – probably some lungs issue. A little pressure in the right place and you will be suffocating. As for you – he directed the other man – that displaced bone in your arm is only waiting to snap it. And trust me, it would be painful. Excruciatingly painful – he put on his signature smirk.

- This man is a freak. Probably a devil himself – if only they knew how close to truth they were. – Let’s get out of here – they rushed through the door.

- Are you all right? – Matt turned toward me.

- Yes. Thank you, Murdock. – after those couple words we just stood in silence. Matt opened his mouth like he was trying to add something but Foggy chose this moment to finally reach the bar.

-Hey, are we ok here? What was that?

- Nothing – I mumbled – who won the round?

-Karen of course, I am terribly terrible at every sport, this one included.

- Can I join then? – Matt chimed – to even the score.

Foggy hesitated. He was torn and dragged into a fight between his best friends. This must have been hard on him too. Being loyal to both sides of conflict. I decided to be merciful and spare him this dilemma as I nodded my head in agreement.

***

After that little encounter at the bar me and Matt went on radio silence. Weekend passed at the speed of light and in rather lonely atmosphere. Then Monday and Tuesday. I was purposefully trying to avoid any news concerning the devil of hell’s kitchen latest activity but it was hard since he was almost everywhere. I hated myself for that but I was still catching up with Foggy every night to make sure that whatever Matt was doing left him breathing and alive. But that was just it. The rest of the feelings for him…. Well, to be honest, they were still there, but I was hoping time will heal the wound.

Then, something changed on Wednesday. I came back from work with groceries and a bottle of wine ready for a new season of my favourite TV show with a clear plan for the evening and night. Unfortunately it only came to partial fulfilment. I was in the middle of episode three when I heard a knock on my door. At first I got scared. Who on earth could possibly pay me a visit at 10 pm? Should I grab something to protect myself? Like a baseball bat, maybe (*)? Slowly reaching the entrance I peeked through the viewfinder and sighed in a mix of relief and frustration.

-What …. – I began after opening, but I was never mend to finish as a pair of soft, yet a bit swollen lips landed on mine, familiar, calloused hand closing around my waist and pulling me close towards toned and bruised chest. I was taken by surprise and without having a moment to think what I was doing in some crazy reflex I kissed back, my muscle memory making me burry my fingers in Matt’s stoked hair. – What …? – I tried again but he silenced me by putting his index finger on my mouth.

-Shh. Let me speak, please. I am so, so sorry, sweetheart. I called you selfish, but the only egoistic one in this relationship was me. I realised how unfair that was of me. And I missed you.

- You also called me clingy – I reminded.

-Worst mistake of my life. A week without your touch and hugs and your sweetest little kisses. A torture. Way worse than all the pain from my street fights. I was such a fool, darling. Can you forgive me? – Matt put our foreheads together trying to convey to me how sorry he was.

- How can I? – I tried to move away but it only caused him to tighten his grip – How do I know you are not going to do the same thing following week? And then again and again? How do I know we will not be going around in circles all the time? How, Matt? Give me something, anything to hold on to. – please, please give me something plausible – I silently begged in my mind.

- I am here, now, right? I’m not leaving you. No daredevil tonight, I swear. Just me and you. Please, you have to believe me. I really do want to make things between us right. Please … - once again, this sad, pleading eyes that always made me melt. How weak was I?

- One chance, Matthew Murdock. One final chance. – my voice broke – Look, I don’t want you to give up something so important to you. That would be selfish. I just need you to promise you’ll be careful. And that you will have some more time for me not as your nurse to tend to your cuts and bruises but also to me as your girlfriend. Is that really too much?

-No – he leaned forward trying to capture my lips once again.

- Promise me – I didn’t let him kiss me. – seriously, Murdock.

- I promise. Cross my heart. Now can I have a kiss?

- No. Since apparently I am too clingy, you're going to have to work to deserve it.

- You are not going to let this go easily, are you?

- Not in a million years. Not get inside – I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the flat – you have so much work to do to earn what you need.

- Why the wait then? – he pulled me towards him smirking and my heart skipped a beat at all the crazy thoughts and possibilities coming inside my head.

@pinksirensong

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil netflix #daredevil x y/n #daredevil #daredevil x you #matt murdock imagine #daredevil imagine #matt murdock one shot #daredevil one shot #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel one shot

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anna-hawk · 1 year

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Get it off your chest

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock Fandom: The Punisher/Daredevil Rating: M Word Count: 829

Summary: Frank can't take his eyes off Matt's chest.

Warnings: rooftop shenanigans – hand jobs

A/N: I wanted to write something completely different tonight. For someone other than JB for once. Then I saw this absolutely none suggestive gifset from @briefcasejuice, but my horndog brain decided to make this happen instead. Matt in his black getup just has this effect on me 😅

Also on AO3

Frank’s staring. He knows he is. What he also knows is that Matt probably knows it too, with his heightened senses and all that. Frank drops his gaze and gives himself a mental shake. It doesn’t help. Ten seconds later, his eyes are back at it. But how could he not? It was just in front of him.

“Alright, what? Do I have something on my face or something?”

Frank would have made a snide remark about the scarf around Matt’s eyes any other time, yet that’s not what comes out.

“So, no more fancy suit, huh?”

Matt huffs and turns his attention back to the building they’ve been overlooking from the neighboring rooftop.

“No.”

Frank nods silently, knowing the reason behind Matt returning to his black getup. He doesn’t actually care about the stupid suit, but it had been… less distracting, he now realizes. His eyes drift towards Matt again, until the man curses under his breath.

“Will you please focus on what we’re doing here and not my clothes? It’s not like you’re seeing them for the first time.”

“‘s not the clothes,” Frank mutters before he can catch himself.

Matt’s eyebrows lift in confusion, and he tilts his head to one side.

“Then what?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” Frank crosses his arms and averts his eyes, while the telltale feeling of embarrassment heats the back of his neck.

“Frank?” Matt asks curiously.

Frank sees Matt step closer out of the corner of his eye, and then he’s right there in front of Frank. He curses himself as his eyes automatically land on Matt’s chest. It had been raining all evening, and they hadn't found any shelter from it, as both men had made it from rooftop to rooftop to get to the one they’re currently standing on. Meaning that while it isn’t raining anymore, Matt’s clothes are still plastered to his body and highlighting every inch of it. His thighs and trim waist, but most importantly, his chest; hard nipples included.

“See something you like?”

Frank’s eyes snap to Matt’s face and catch the small smirk and intrigued furrow of his brow. Damn this man and his super senses. Frank’s usually able to keep his emotions in check, but his libido seems to have a mind of its own tonight.

“You think they’re gonna show up?” Frank asks, his eyes never leaving Matt’s face.

Matt inclines his head like he always does whenever he’s scanning his surroundings, before he shakes his head no.

“Good,” Frank says gruffly, before he fists the wet material of the lawyer’s top and pulls him towards him to kiss him roughly.

They grunt as their lips smash together, and Frank moves them to press Matt against a brick wall. Frank tugs Matt’s shirt up, the fabric sticking to Matt’s skin and slowing the process, until his chest is bared to Frank’s gaze. Frank doesn’t hesitate to lower his mouth to one of the hard nipples and suck it in. Matt’s head smacks against the wall behind him as he gasps loudly, his hips bucking into Frank’s.

“So that’s what you’ve been staring at?” Matt pants and groans, arms around Frank’s shoulders for support, as Frank never relents with his ministrations.

Frank grunts in confirmation as he bites and sucks his way around Matt’s pecs, leaving marks of various sizes, as do his fingers that press into Matt’s sides. He slots a leg between Matt’s thighs, his dick twitching in anticipation at the feeling of Matt’s hard length rubbing against his thigh.

“Oh fuck,” Matt groans after a harsh nip to one of his nipples. This seems to get his hands moving, since they reach between their bodies to get to their flies.

Frank growls into Matt’s chest as Matt pulls him out of his boxer, only to slide their cocks together. The angle’s a bit off with how Frank refuses to remove his mouth from Matt’s chest and Matt’s hand is slightly too rough around their dicks, but Frank can’t get enough of it. The touch is sending sharp pleasure through his nerve endings, while he listens intently to the noises that Matt makes.

Matt comes with a cut-off gasp and a tiny whimper as his free hand grips the back of Frank’s shirt. His body shakes against Frank’s as his hips buck. Matt's hand tightens around their dicks, which is enough for Frank to reach his own climax. He bites into Matt’s chest, not hard enough to do any real harm, but it’s probably going to be the largest mark of all. Matt doesn’t seem to mind, considering the long groan of pleasure at the pressure of Frank’s teeth on his skin.

Frank straightens and finds Matt leaning heavily against the wall, a slow grin on his face as he still pants.

“Got everything off your chest?” Matt snarks as he quickly licks his lips.

“Oh, shut up, Red,” Frank grouses with a roll of his eyes, before kissing the man for good measure.

#fratt #frank castle x matt murdock #fratt fanfiction #fratt drabble #mes fics #frankmatt #frank x matt #writing #fanfiction #matt murdock #frank castle #Matt Murdock fanfiction #frank castle fanfiction #The punisher #daredevil

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averagedeadinsomniac · 2 years

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ᴄʜᴇᴍɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴏɴᴅᴇᴅ

|𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐳 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫|

EPISODE-1 PILOT| Pt.2

pt-1|pt-2|pt-3|pt-4

___________________________

"I see there's a new episode of that singing show tonight." Jerry announced. He was the father of Morty and Summer who was to damn dumb for his own good. Echo found themself often annoyed by him but they knew he wasn't much of an actual problem. "Who do you guys think is gonna be the best singer?" As soon as he finish Morty's head fell into his food making him instantly fall asleep passed out.

"Oh, my god. His head is in his foo. I'm going to puke." Summer said almost nonchalantly not even really caring. Rick continued eating when Morty's mother voiced "Morty, are you getting sick? I told you not to practice kiss the living room pillow, the dog sleeps on it." Morty brought his face up from the plate rubbing his eyes "I wasn't kissing a pillow, mom. I just-- I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Maybe my dreams were just to loud or something."

"Or maybe you were out all night with grandpa Rick and Cypher" "What?!"

"Dad! Echo!" Everyone looked at Rick and Echo now "What, so everyones supposed to sleep every single night now? you realize that nighttime makes up half of all time?" "To waste your time like that is just simply a waste especially for you humans who are likely just to live up to 63 than the pronounced 104 years." Echo added picking at a couple of eggs.

"Damn it!"

"Jerry!"

"Beth!"

"Oh my god. My parents are so loud. I want to die" Summer piped crossing her arms. "Mm mm, there is no go summer. You got to rip that band-aid off now. You'll thank me later" Rick said not looking up, sit eating his food. "Okay, with all due respect Rick-- what am I talking about? What respect is due? How is my son supposed to pass his classes if you keep dragging him off for a high concept sci-fi rigamarole?!" Jerry grilled.

"Listen Jerry, I-I don't won't to overstep my bounds or anything. It's your house, It's your world. You're a real Julius Caesar, but I'll tell you some-- tell you how-- how I feel about school, Jerry. It's a waste of time. A bunch of people running around, bumping into each other. A g-guy up front says 'Two plus two.' The people in the back say 'four'. Then the bell rings, and they give you a carton of milk and a piece of paper that says you can go take a dump or something. I mean, it's-- it's not a place for smart people Jerry. And I know that's not a popular opinion, but it's my two cents on the issue." He stood up wiping his mouth then placed a hand on his daughters shoulder looking at her.

"This was a good breakfast Beth. You really made the crap out of those eggs. Wish your mother was here to eat them." Following after Rick Echo sat up to "Thank you Ms. Sanchez for the wonderful breakfast and again thank you for letting me stay here. If you need me I'll be in the garage."

________________

TIME SKIP

It was another boring ass day at Morty's school. It was too regular, to slow for anyone who had even a spec on knowledge. Why would anyone go to school? All they do is fill up valuable space with random shit that is beaten into you until you couldn't think for yourself. Byjust doing random things you could learn more.

Echo and rick were looking around the school for Morty's 4th period math class. They found him back against the wall with someone threatening him with a switchblade. Before he could do serious damage he froze him is place with some sort of freeze taser Rick made a while back. He put the device back into his coat pocket and closed back his coat. "Morty! Listen to me, we have an errand to run in a whole different dimension and I need an extra pair of hands." Rick announced. "O-Oh jeez rick! W-What did you do too Frank?" Morty jittered "It's pretty obvious Morty. Your grandfather froze him" Echo stated."And again listen- We need your help, Morty! I mean, we got-- we got to get--get the hell out of here and go take care of business. It's important Morty!" "I-I don't know Rick. I can't leave school again. And--and don't you have Echo?" Morty fumbled. "Do you have any concept of how high the stakes get out there Morty? What do you thing-- we can do it all on our own? Come on!" Echo added "Aw, geez. Okay. I guess I could skip history. But what about Frank? I mean, shouldn't you unfreeze him?" "I'll do it later, Morty. He'll be fine. Let's go!"

The ran through the hall, out the school and into a nearby ally way. Rick pulled out his portal gun and shot out a portal that glowed green and stepped into it. On the other side it looked like some sort of Dr. Seuss magic funland on steroids. "What is this place?" Morty asked out loud. "It's dimension 35c, and it's got the perfect climate conditions for a special tree, Morty." Echo announced. "Called a mega tree, and there's fruit intros trees, and there's seeds in those fruits. I'm talking about mega seeds. They're-- they're incredible powerful, and I need them to help with my research, Morty." Rick finished. "Oh man, guys. I'm looking around this place, and I'm starting to work up some anxiety about this whole thing." Morty worried. "All right, All right. Calm down and listen to me Morty. I know new situations can be intimidating. You're looking around and its all scary and different, but, you know meeting them head on, charging right into them like a bull, that's how we grow as people." Rick explained and Morty still looked nervous but a little better. "Me and Echo are no stranger to scary situations. We deal with them all the time. Now if you just stick with me, Morty were gunna be-- holy crap Morty, run!" He yelled finally noticing a monstrous alien behind Morty. The creature screeched behind them the the team yelled and they took off sprinting

"I never seen that thing in my life before! I don't even know what the hell it is! We gotta get the hell out of here! It's gonna kill us, we're gonna die!"

#rick sanchez headcanons #x reader #rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick and morty x reader #mr meeseeks #rick sanchez x oc #Rick Sanchez x you

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jeans-movie-reviews · 2 years

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American Psycho

This movie did not even make the list of top 100 movies, and to be frank I did not want to review it after watching it.

It is incredibly rare that watching a horror movie I am unsettled or scared. This movie did not scare me in the sense that one would expect watching Christian Bale sever his ties with sanity. Instead it made me viscerally uncomfortable.

Based on the novel by Bret Easton Ellis, we see Patrick Bateman as your regular businessman, on the outside at least. The movie follows his rather quick jump from regular resentment and displeasure to straight out murder and torture. I got the feeling that we as the audience were to believe that Patrick suffered from Anti-Social Personality Disorder. Closer to the end of the movie we watch as he is forced to come to terms with the lack of grip on reality. Having an unstable narrator leads the audience to question what is real and what is fake. Leaving me more uneasy than when I initially finished the film.

Leaving aside the villainization of mental illness for a moment we can really get into the grit of this film.

Christian Bale has left such a disconnect from reality in every scene he plays as Patrick Bateman. Be it during the brutal murders as the music is playing, how he discusses what the music is and where it came from. His apparent disinterest in the ladies of the night he invites into his apartment. Or his intense fits of rage at what most people would call minute. In my opinion the most intense point in the film that really drove home how unsettled I was came from the scene where he calls his lawyer. Bateman can be quoted as saying “ Tonight, I, uh, I just had to kill a lot of people! And, um... I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it this time. “

After all of the murder, and the entirely sick confession he pours into the phone you see his true concerns shine through if but a moment. I’m not sure I’m gonna get away with it this time. He shows no remorse for what he’s done, I’m of the belief that you can’t even claim this a confession but instead a retelling of the fruits of his labor for legal purposes.

The breath of fresh air amongst all of the crazy from Bale is seen in William Defoe, playing a private investigator, Donald Kimball, who was hired to investigate Paul Allen’s (Jared Leto) disappearance. Defoe manages to disarm both Bale and the audience through seemingly knowing nothing. His appointments to question Bale always leave the audience wondering how much he really knows.

At some point the film takes a hard turn into the unreasonable, but with the audience spending so much of the film teetering on the edge it’s incredibly hard to pinpoint where. Especially because after Bateman’s confession it appears that everything is completely normal. We as the audience are left wondering if finally Patrick has lost his grip on reality or if it was gone the entire time. Did Kimball ever really exist, did those murders actually occur? And what if the answer is no? Would Bateman go out of his way to live through the sick fantasies now that he believes he fully did it once with zero consequence? Is he Patrick Bateman at all?

Overall I really wanted to like this movie a lot more than I did. It was filmed nicely enough, the acting was astounding, and yet I’m still left with this awful taste in my mouth and a feeling I can’t quite shake. I watched this movie over a week ago and I am only now reviewing it as it has shaken me to my very core. In that sense I believe it has accomplished everything it set out to, as I will be thinking about it and discussing it for years to come.

#movie review #american psycho

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 2 years

Note

Not to be dramatic but I'd KILL to see your Sunny/Moondrop writings

You have no fucking idea how fast I hopped on this ask-

*warning, may contain big titty milf

"Mom! Mom! Look!"

You looked up from your phone at your son, who was holding up a rather adorable piece of art. It was him, and you, holding hands, COVERED in glitter glue. You chuckled, looking it over in your hands.

"Wow, when did I suddenly get a little Picasso in the family? Take it you're having fun, huh kiddo?"

"Loads! I'm gonna make another piece with my new friend!"

"Well good! But don't take too long, you know your grandma is coming over to watch you for tonight, and she should be here any minute."

"Oh! I'll go get started! Think I can make something good enough for her fridge?"

You patted his little head, getting a big ol' smile from him.

"I bet it will be. Hop to it!"

With that, he ran off, joining the other kids in the art area of the daycare. You loved your kid to tears, you really did. It's why you hated that he was the only man in your life. You didn't put too much responsibility on him, he was only five, but you knew he tried harder than most kids to impress you and care for you. You separated from your ex husband not long after he was born, and by now, you were over it.

Unfortunately, you weren't over men in general. In fact, you were pretty much on the prowl. He needed a new father figure, and you needed a proper lover for once. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on your side. Tinder dates stood you up, and all the dads here were unfortunately, very happily married. LOTS of dads here at Freddy's today, all sporting rings, and it made you pissed off like you wouldn't believe.

"You better not skimp out on me tonight, asshole."

You muttered at your phone screen. You had a date set up tonight, and you hoped, prayed even, for someone normal, yet as needy as you were. You weren't asking for Hercules here, just. Someone who cared enough to give you something you needed, just for tonight. You sat there, fiddling on your phone, until your mom finally showed up. After a brief exchange, a few goodbyes, they were off. You were now (at least for tonight) a mother with no responsibilities. You were about to head off, when you got a text.

'He said he's missing his watch, and forgot it in the ballpit. Can you go check? He looks upset'

Of course. You thought about just buying another one, they were available at the front desk. But you knew he could tell. You sighed, before responding.

'Sure, I'll look. Tell him to just have fun in the meantime.'

You got up from your seat by the ballpit, before walking over to some employee, who was picking up trash.

"Hey excuse me? My son lost his watch, I think it's in the ballpit, I was wondering-"

"Ma'am, imma be frank with you. You can either go and buy a new watch, or go look yourself. I don't get paid enough for this."

You thought about saying something about such a rude attitude, but from the side eyes you were getting, you were one wrong word away from being another 'Karen' online. You sighed.

"Thank you."

Was all you could say. You looked at the entire play area, before groaning. Better get started.

---------------------------

You woke up with a start. You jumped up a bit, realizing you were in the ballpit. You looked around, and realized the seats were empty. What time was it? You checked your phone, and your mouth went agape. Well into midnight, and your date was at eight o'clock. You checked your dating app, and sure enough, he sent you message after message, even tried calling you. You tried to call back, only for your phone to die right before you could manage.

"Oh no. Oh no oh no."

Dead phone, the place looked empty. The last you remember, you were looking for your son's watch. Somehow you were so tired, you just passed out in the ballpit. And that was just the last straw for you. You didn't even bother getting out of the pit, before starting to just cry into your hands. It was one thing after another lately, and this was the straw that broke the camel's back. It wasn't fair. You just wanted some well deserved attention and kindness and-

"Oh ho ho! Someone is up late! I-oh no! Are those tears? Friend, what's…"

You looked up, and screamed as you jumped back. In front of you was a tall, skinny figure, with a big, smiling face. He held his hands in front of you, crouching down a bit in an attempt to look smaller.

"Woah! Easy there! It's alright! I didn't mean to scare you! I heard you making noises, and I THOUGHT I heard someone crying! What's wrong?"

You took a second to inspect him further. Ridiculous striped pants, bells for his shoes, and a sunny disposition. Literally, given his actual sun face. He stood there, waving his arms side to side in a silly little dance. You sniffed, rubbing at your now probably ruined makeup.

"I was...trying to find something my kid dropped. And I guess I got tired and just. Fell asleep here. And t-then I missed my date and-"

"Hey hey hey! One thing at a time, sweetheart! Look,"

He held your hands in his, jumping a bit in place, as if he was trying to have fun still.

"Why don't you tell me what you lost first? Maybe I can help you find it?"

There was something...comforting, being reassured. The hand holding, the 'sweetheart'. It was nice.

"Uhm...my son dropped his watch. He put a sticker with his name on it, couple of stars I think?"

"Was it by any chance a freddy fazbear brand watch? The free ones you get at the entrance?"

"Yeah?"

He let go of your hands, before patting himself down, then digging into his clothes. He then pulled out EXACTLY what you were looking for, name and all. You gasped as you took it from him, amazed.

"You found it!! How?"

He shrugged.

"I find ALL kinds of stuff that kids drop. Candy, watches, socks, toys- and I bring it to the lost and found! Because lost toys make for sad boys and girls, and I will NOT have any frowns in my daycare!"

He clapped, still doing his little dance. It was such a small thing, a brief act of kindness. You jumped on him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He laughed, patting your back softly. It was an honest, happy cackle. He was HAPPY to get a hug from you.

"Oh! A hug! We LOVE hugs here! This is my first hug from an ADULT! It's weird. I like it!!!"

He returned the hug, spinning you around with surprising strength, before putting you on the floor, and letting go. He kept doing his little dance, chipper as ever.

"So, what else did you say was making you sad?"

You wished he didn't bring it up. It reminded you of your dead phone and your missed chance for drinks. Your frown returned.

"Oh I missed my date tonight, and I was looking forward to it. It's...been a while."

"Oh! Like a play date?"

You rolled your hands a bit as you thought of how to explain this.

"No. It's uh, a grown up date. You know, when adults get...lonely. So they uh-"

"Oooh! Grown up time! I see, I see!"

He cackled, wiggling his finger at you as if you said a naughty joke. He moved and flailed, as if he'd die if he didn't keep moving, and he was making the best of it.

"You...know about that?"

"Uh huh! I know ALL about kids! Including HOW they're made! It's in my programming! What's also in my programming, is turning frowns upside down!"

He did a handstand, before standing upright, and placing his hands at your waist. He then lifted you up as If you were nothing, before bringing you to the end of the room, and placing you down on a table. You looked around where he just put you, and realized it was sort of like the control center of the place, full of odds and ends, all sorts of buttons and levers. He closed the distance between you two, wagging a finger in your face.

"Now, I know I can't exactly get you right to your date, but I CAN play some games with you to cheer you up! It'll be like one big slumber party! Then, come morning, you can go home! Whatever game you wanna play!"

"I'm...not sure there's any games that'll cheer me up-"

You turned, maybe hoping to find some kind of phone, before he grabbed your hand, holding it tenderly in between his.

"Oh please! One game! Please! If you don't have fun, I can just take you out of here! But I have to TRY to make you smile!"

Maybe it was the way he held your hand. Maybe it was the fact that your heart was yearning. Maybe it was just the begging and pleading that sounded so honest and yearning. But regardless, you knew exactly what kind of game you wanted him to play.

"Okay. We'll play a game. How about Simon says?"

"Ohh!! I LOVE Simon says! Okay okay, let's play!"

He jumped on the spot, giddy to play this game with you.

"Okay. Simon says, stand right here."

You opened your legs, and pointed right in front of you. He obeyed, standing in between your legs. He was a tall, lanky fellow, so he fit there rather nicely. He was sort of...warm too.

"Simon says, put your hands on my thighs."

He nodded eagerly, his hands planted on your thighs. Oh that felt better than you thought it would.

"Simon says...squeeze them."

He looked puzzled, before he obeyed. His hands squeezed at your flesh, and even through your classic mom jeans, you could feel his warm, firm hands. Oh it was perfect.

"Simon says...put your fingers right in here."

You tugged at your own pants, and he seemed confused again, before his fingers undid those pesky buttons, and slipped past the cloth, even past the panties. Oh he was right at your clit, he could make you cum in an instant, it'd be so easy. You looked away from his face, to where his hand was. You could feel your heart race in your chest, and it almost made you feel faint.

"R-rub it."

He didn't. You snapped up to him, seeing what was the problem, when he gave a mad cackle.

"You didn't say Simon says! Ha! Now it's MY turn!"

Oh. Right. You were playing a game. You sighed, before relenting.

"Okay, Simon says, gimme a kiss!"

You surprisingly had no problem with it. You grabbed onto his face, and gave it a kiss. And another. And another. You didn't know how many you gave him, you just knew when you finally pulled away, his face was just DECORATED in your red lipstick. It suited him. He giggled, possibly shy about the adoration on his metallic face.

"Woo! You were excited about that one! Simon says, gimme a hug!"

You didn't hesitate again, grabbing his head, and pulling his face right into your bust. You didn't mean to brag, but you were pretty damn lucky in terms of the chest area, so sunny boy had quite the resting place for his head. He looked up at you from your bosom, clearly feeling your affection.

"What a nice hug! Okay, gimme another kiss!"

You didn't give him one. He looked almost sad, before you chuckled, poking his forehead with your nail.

"You didn't say Simon says."

"Oh! Ha! You're GOOD at this game! Okay, your turn!"

You loved that smile he gave you. He was eager to do as you said, and something told you it wasn't just because it was a game.

"Simon says, rub it."

His hand hadn't pulled out of your pants, so there was no wait. You felt his finger tips rub at your folds, slowly, softly. Oh you could feel him smear your pussy juices against his fingers.

"Hey, it's a little hard to do with your pants in the way, can I take these off?"

You nodded so quickly, you swore you'd get a headache. He pulled down your pants, then your panties, until they hung around your ankles. He continued, running you in much larger circles. You held his head with one hand, keeping his face in your breasts, while the other held onto the hand that was giving you so much pleasure.

"Oh...shit that's it…"

"You're giving me such a weird smile. I've never seen this kind before. I like it!! You have a super duper smile!!"

You shrunk a bit as he not only kept pleasing you, but kept his face buried in your soft, voluptuous chest. His face didn't exactly scream emotions other than smiling, but you could tell he was BEAMING.

"You...don't mean that. You're just being nice."

"No I mean it! You have a super super pretty smile! I like this one MUCH better than your sad face!"

Oh no. That was so terribly sweet. You knew your face exploded in blush, and it was so embarrassing. He was talking so sweetly, he was being so gentle. He was the softest, yet weirdest lover you've ever had.

"I wanna make you smile everyday! In fact I think I know how I can make you smile more! You wanna see?"

"Please. Yes. Please show me."

He hummed a bit, two fingers threatening to push inside of you. Long, slender, warm. You knew they'd feel so good, curled up inside of you.

"On one condition. You gotta say I'M the winner!"

God that was weirdly cute of him. You nodded quickly, swallowing.

"You're the winner! You totally win! Just. S-show me how you can make me smile, please."

He gave a little victory dance upon hearing you say this, and lifted his face up to bump against your face, in some odd attempt to kiss you. His fingers, slowly, teasingly, pushed inside of you. Two, long digits pushed inside of your wet pussy, carefully stroking you, exploring you. You melted over his touch, head tossed back as they slid in and out.

"You're the sweetest thing I've ever smelled. Like, better than ANY scratch n' sniff sticker!"

Oh it was so stupid, how special that made you feel. He nuzzled into you (much as his large head would allow), and you swore you heard him take in your scent. You didn't mind, not when he was going knuckle deep into you now. He was playing you like a fiddle, forcing you to make all sorts of sounds as his fingers toyed with you. Your wetness was so loud, only your moans compared. You felt his other hand under your shirt, slowly up your back, before hooking a finger against your bra. With one fell swoop, he pulled it right out of your shirt, catching you by surprise.

"H-how did you do that?"

"Magic tricks! I'm VERY good with my hands!"

You felt his fingertips brush against that sweet spot, and you felt electricity shoot up your spine. You nodded quickly, blood rushing and head spinning.

"Y-yeah, you are, I believe it. You should uh, really keep showing me-!"

It was as if he read your mind. He was barely picking up the speed, but him massaging that spot was getting you there. You leaned back, having a death grip on his wrist as he kept, ever so slowly, pushing you further and further to that edge.

"Oh my god oh my GOD, keep going, I'm a-almost there, please please I NEED this!!"

You really did. It had been so long. Self satisfaction never gave you that same feeling. You needed another's hand. Another's body on yours. So close so close so CLOSE!

Then you pushed the button. It was an accident, you swore it was. But your hand pushed a button, and suddenly the lights went out, leaving only the big star nightlights above shining down on you both.. You were about to laugh it off, maybe comment about how it was romantic, when he pulled away from you, grabbing a hold of his face.

"Oh no. Oh no oh no!! Y-you turned the lights off!! You can't turn them off!!!"

He kept pulling at his face, screaming as if he was in pain. He kept backing away from you, and it was freaking you out. You were about to try to calm him down, when he suddenly walked so far back, he fell over the desk, and onto the floor. There was a grunt of agony, and you were honestly concerned. You were about to put your pants back on and rush to him, before you saw his face pop back up past the counter. Only, it wasn't him. His eyes were red, predatory. They scanned over the counter, before finding you. His voice wasn't soft or cheerful anymore. It was...sleazy, like a predator going after a younger, weaker member of a herd.

"Naughty, naughty girl...it's past your bedtime."

He jumped onto the counter. His pants were now littered with stars, looking like night lights. His movements were still giddy, but in a slower, more calculated way.

"Naughty girls get punished."

He leapt up from the counter, out of view. You looked around for a moment, trying to see if you could find him, before you suddenly felt yourself grabbed by him. One hand held your breast, the other went right between your legs. He snarled into your ear, and dear God did it make you wet.

"I've never punished such a pretty girl before. I wonder what sounds you make. I wonder how you scream."

His hand groped and grabbed at your chest, roughly kneading and teasing at your nipple through your sort of thin shirt. And his three fingers? Oh it was heaven. They were far from gentle, pumping in and out of you quickly, making such a loud sound as he stuffed your pussy with his fingers. And the sounds against your ear. The cackling, the snarling, the comments of you being a bad little girl.

"Oh someone wants to cum. You want to cum over these fingers, girlie? While I play with these, big, fat titties of yours?"

"Y-yes!"

Oh he was so rough with you. Holding you like you didn't have a choice. He growled against your skin so hungrily, you bit your bottom lip, oh so ready to be finger blasted into an orgasm.

"Then say it. Say you've been bad, so I know you deserve your punishment."

When you didn't do it immediately, he pulled his fingers out, and smacked your sensitive clit, making you yelp far louder than you'd like to admit. He dipped four fingers into you now, stretching you as he went knuckles deep, completely stuffing your pussy with his demanding, punishing fingers.

"I've been bad! I've been such a bad little girl! I need to be punished! I need you to make me c-cum for you!"

"Then cum for me. Scream for me. Take me and your punishment."

Then finally. FINALLY. You came. You clenched down on his fingers as you spilled over the controls you were sitting on. He was relentless, fucking you through it. No matter how much you thrashed, no matter how much you screamed, he kept fucking you with his oh so talented hand the entire way through, and his other fingers dug deep into your tits. It wasn't until you were whimpering, that he stopped. He pulled out of you slowly, peering over your sopping wet, gaping pussy. Your head spun, your body laced with sweat.

"Open your mouth, take your medicine."

You opened your mouth, and allowed him to force his smooth, slender fingers into your ever eager mouth.

Best. Slumber party. Ever.

-------------------------

You came here every weekend. Have been for about a few months now. You thought it was a one off, but it just. Never stopped. He listened to you, he complimented you, he gave you attention. Him being an animatronic was just uh...complication. A quirk if anything. But you weren't complaining. You were happy, and so was your little man.

"Mom, do you think he'll like it?"

"Course he will, honey. He always likes your work."

You walked with your son into the daycare, and there he was. Doing a handstand, holding someone's toddler by his feet, clearly entertaining the kiddos. Then, he saw you. He immediately put them down, and walked over to you, clearly not thinking of getting back on his feet.

"I've been WAITING for you two! Running kinda late today!"

"A little artist just HAD to finish his drawing for you. Go on, show him."

He eagerly ran up to Sunny, who looked at the drawing. He whistled loudly, nodding, clearly impressed.

"For ME? oh you shouldn't have! I love it so much! You know what'd really make this POP though? Glitter glue! I just got some new colors today! Why don't you go check them out, champ?"

He patted his head with one of his feet, making him laugh. He looked at you with permission, before you nodded, letting your little rugrat run off to get his new shirt all dirty with crafts. Meanwhile, your little jester climbed up the bench where you sat, not ONCE letting his feet touch the ground.

"Hey! I missed you!"

"I was here last week, Sunny."

"Feels too long! I miss my favorite Simon says player!"

Making sure no one saw, you held his face, and kissed it.

"Don't worry. We get to play the game tonight. And I got a whole new bag of toys for you to play with~"

"I like toys. But I definitely like you more!"

So your boyfriend/not boyfriend was a robot. No biggie. You just knew that with that strap on in your extra duffel bag, you were ABSOLUTELY ready for your day to get a bit more...Sunny.

#asks #not transformers #lemon #fnaf security breach #and yes #a sequel is being made at the request of a friend #sunnydrop #moondrop

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nctsworld · 3 years

Text

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone off to one side.

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.”

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly.

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

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queen-haq · 3 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn. He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

Tumblr tag list:

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh@maralisa124@tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur@nemesis729 @lysawayne@kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda@advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer@dontjinx-it@darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting–heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @everythinghappens-love @papapapadumb @mylife-love-and-other-things @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @ancientbeing10 @natty2245 @stuckysavedmylive @kasslucilfer @simp-for-ben-barners @originaldeputycalzoneegg @bdffkierenwalker @kimoranelson03 @sadbi-hours @haushinka27 @haushinka27 @caylaxwrites @extraneousred @agentmstark @crazywitchkitty @its-an-idea-not-a-blog @partypoison00 @fictional-hooman @hoglady @helnicks @luckyfreakfishpeach @chiquitita18 @rachlovesactors @icecream50055 @doloreschanal @lupinsfavslytherin @swthxrry @wanderlusting-about-life @dreamer7black @leahnicole1219 @superawesomegeek @weallhaveadestiny @toxicenough @tiiffanym @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @cap-just-said-language @edithsvoice @natashasilverfox

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x you #the punisher #a woman scorned

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

A Frank Adler One Shot.

Summary: It’s Frank’s wedding night… but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+) allusions to cheating…

Pairings: Frank Adler x Reader

A/N: Just a little smutty one shot featuring everyone’s favourite Dirty Boat Daddy. Written for @onlyjamesbarnes 1.5k Follower Challenge. Prompt in bold. Congrats babe!!

Lyrics from Fall Out Boy- Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Frank Adler Master list // Main Masterlist

❤️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔

I'm gonna make you bend and break,

Say a prayer, but let the good times roll

In case God doesn't show…

Frank had always been powerless to resist you. He was a moth to your flame, but like always, you play with fire and you get burnt.

But now, you were the one burning, burning hotter than the sun.

With a groan, you ground your hips down as you leaned back, rolling and rocking down onto him. That face, sharp chiselled jawline covered by a slightly nearer than usual scruff looked back at you, his perfect profile silhouetted against the moonlight which drifted through the curtains of the hotel room.

How could something that wrong feel so fucking right?

And I want these words to make things right, But it's the wrongs that make the words come to life.

"Who does he think he is?"

If that's the worst you've got, better put your fingers back to the keys

He shouldn’t have let you in, but you knew he would as soon as he fired you the message with his room number. Your signature knock had sounded across the plush suite he was spending his last night as a ‘single’ man in, and like a sacrificial lamb welcoming its slaughter, he’d opened the door.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to see you.” You blinked up at him. He was still in his slacks and dress shirt, from the rehearsal you’d sat through, tie discarded, collar open. He cut a stark contrast to the boat greased and oil stained, salty air cured man you were used to.

He held the door open for you, stepping back and allowing you in. Without a word you walked over to the grand windows the space provided, offering a look at the shoreline outside and below. The view was breathtaking at night, the moonlight shining off the waves as they lapped at the shore, mere metres away from where tomorrow he would take his vows.

Through the reflection of the window behind you, you could see him just as his hands gripped at your waist. You turned on the ball of your foot, manicured fingers running up his chest from his strong pecs to his collarbones and over his shoulders to around his neck, your lips quickly on his. Your tongue slipped inside, tasting a hint of scotch, a half drunk glass of which sat on the small coffee table to the right. Frank moaned against your mouth while your fingers slipped through the neatly trimmed hair of his neck.

You pushed against him slightly with your body, the back of his legs hitting the chair besides the coffee table and he took a seat, breaking your kiss.

“This shouldn’t-“

“Shhh.” You shook your head. “Just give me tonight, please.”

He stared at you with lust blown eyes, different to the playful glint he normally possessed when he used to look at you, as you thought for a second about your next move, bottom lip already swollen from his kiss between your teeth.

You knew he was a goner.

"Y/N," he managed to croak out as you straddled his lap, seating yourself over his now hard cock, the rough fabric of his dark dress pants constraining him, giving you just enough teasing friction agasint your sensitive inner thighs. His large hands slid up your thighs and under your light coloured, flowy dress as you moved your lips over his again, giving him access to your ass, finger tips grazing the barely there material of your panties.

You ground down against him, your hips rolling in a circular motion as he growled into your mouth, squeezing your cheeks with his hands. You kicked off your sandals, making a thud as they hit the plush carpet. A sound that matched that of your heart. A heart that squeezed in your chest, as if someone had wound and elastic band around its middle knowing that tomorrow you’d watch him takes his vows.

And everything would change.

Frank broke away from your lips, to lick and nip at your jaw and down your neck, tongue rolling against your sternum. His face drilled between your breasts, inhaling your scent.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt and plucked them open skillfully, French manicured nails raking across his chest, causing him to shudder and groan. You reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it with little trouble, lifting your hips slightly, showing a strength in your thighs as you lifted away from him, to undo his flies. You adjusted yourself, pushing up on your knees just a little to allow the room you needed to dip your hand just under his boxers waistline, gently gripping at his dick.

“No, not here.” He growled, teeth nipping at the shell of your ear. “I want you in the bed.”

The bed. Where he would spend his first night as a married man.

It was so wrong.

Yet you happily obliged.

It was a well practiced tango the pair of you had danced over the years, and now here you were, him keening underneath you with a desperation you’d come to know well.

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls and it gave you the chills. You held the power and control as he struggled to keep his.

With a quick movement, Frank sat up, pulling you flush against his chest, the angle hitting you just at that pleasurable spot he always managed to hit within you. His head dropped, lips and teeth gently teasing your nipple, large hands splayed agains your spine as he lavished you with affection.

You started grinding down harder, looking for that clitoral stimulation you wanted and as you found it, he moaned deeply into your ear.

“I’m close, but I don’t wanna… not yet.” His words were a plea, a plea that he wasn’t ready to end, and you knew he didn’t simply mean tonight.

But it had to. There was no way around it.

One night and one more time, thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great

"He tastes like you only sweeter"

"Just...let...go," you purred against him.

"Oh fahk," he ground out as his feet planted firmly into the mattress and his hips thrust upward. It didn't take much, a few strong and hard drives and you were crying out his name, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you came around around him.

"Jesus, fahkk, I'm gonna fahking.... Oh fahk," he swore vehemently, his old Boston drawl thick as he drove hard into you for a final time, exploding his load deep into you, spraying your walls with ribbons of white cream.

The pair of you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent. Frank kept you held to his chest as you both drew ragged, heaving breaths. After a moment, Frank pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, no words needed.

And you blinked back a solitary tear.

*****

I'm looking forward to the future, but my eyesight is going bad.

And this crystal ball, it’s always cloudy except for when you look into the past

One night stand

Frank had fallen asleep with you in his arms, not quite ready to let you go. But you were long gone by the time he woke the next morning, the only evidence you’d been in his room was a scribbled note on the pad on the night stand.

“Here’s to the first day of the rest of your life.”

He’d folded the note up and slipped it into his breast pocket, not quite sure why. Maybe it would keep you close to him in those moments he needed to feel you, who knows.

Who knows why any of this had started in the first place.

He watched Mary walk down the aisle first, her bouquet in her hand had been dropped as she had leapt into his arms for a hug, laughing as she told him how excited she was. He’d kissed her cheek and placed her down and she stood by his side, watching as his bride and her father started towards him.

It was then Frank’s eyes had found yours as you watched him, and he swallowed, his chest contracting.

He could still feel your eyes on him and he couldn’t get the image of you bouncing on top of his cock out of his head. He blinked as someone said his name, and he looked at the officiant, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, little nervous.” He apologised, flashing a cheeky grin before he took a deep breath.

A couple of I-Dos later, he was told to kiss his wife. So he did.

And all he could taste was you.

Man and wife walked hand in hand down the aisle to applause, and at the end they stopped and the new Mrs Adler peered up at Frank, a soft smile on her face.

“You happy?”

“Of course.” He smiled back.

“Good, because choosing me to spend your life with, well, I actually think it’s the second best choice you’ve ever made in your life.”

Frank blinked as he heard the click of the photographer's camera. “Oh? The second? What was the first?”

“Letting me into your room last night.” You grinned, your hand sliding up his tux, the diamond studded band catching the sun, glinting in the bright light.

Frank grinned at you, before he arched his eyebrow. “Time will tell if it really was bad luck to see my wife the night before.”

“Didn’t feel like bad luck to me,” you smirked, you hand gently tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as he dropped his head to kiss you, the cheers and applause once more chiming in your ears.

One night and one more time, thanks for the memories

#onlyjamesbarnes1.5kchallenge #frank adler x reader #frank adler x you #frank adler fanfiction #frank adler fic #reader insert #Chris Evans #chris evans characters

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cultgambles · 3 years

Text

Yeah She Bad Ain’t She

Why would I wanna keep her to myself

Dabi x Reader x Hawks

Wrote this in Hawks’ POV bc try new things. Enjoy! Also got inspired by some audios on gwa lol but what’s new.

Voyeurism, exhibitionism, public, threesome, mutual masturbation, one (1) gay joke, they/them pronouns for reader, afab tho

WC: 1794

Masterlist | Requests? open

The first time you step into the dingy bar of the LOV, you scrunch your nose at the smell. Cough into your fist, and scan the room with careful eyes. You see Tomura Shigaraki nursing a whiskey at the bar, Kurogiri behind it, Spinner chatting up Twice. Dabi is laid back on the couch, his arm slung around someone you don’t recognize.

“Hawks, our newest member!” Shigaraki says to the team. “Give him every hospitality.”

“Hey-yo!” you say, saluting leisurely as a greeting. Shigaraki introduces everyone, as if you don’t already know who everyone is. Except one person, the one cozied up to Dabi. They introduce themselves as [Y/N]. Someone you’ll have to research on later before you report back to the commission, which makes you sigh silently.

“Come sit! You’re in luck because tonight is movie night!” Twice says.

“Just tonight?” you ask, watching the rest of the members find seats around the small TV.

“Every Thursday!”

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Catch Me If You Can! About that American con artist,” [Y/N] says. “Pass me that blanket, would you?”

“Sounds interesting. And sure,” you say, tossing the Christmas themed blanket at them. You watch as they fluff it out on themselves and Dabi. You push over one of those lounge chairs and flop onto it. Shigaraki queues up Netflix and hits the play button.

About thirty minutes in, you hear [Y/N]. “Dabi, stop,” they whisper, smacking him on the arm lightly.

“What, I’m not doing anything at all.”

“Don’t act all innocent.” Out of your peripheral vision, you swear you see Dabi’s hand move under the blanket, [Y/N]’s hand gripping his forearm.

“But don’t I make you feel good, baby?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. The problem is everyone is here.”

“Not like we haven’t done something like this before,” he scoffs. “Look, we even got an audience.”

Your face flushes as you listen to their conversation. You barely hear a low groan from [Y/N]’s lips.

“Can y’all shut the fuck up? I’m trying to see what Frank’s gonna do!” Shigaraki fumes, whipping around. A look at Dabi. “Oh.”

“C’mon, boss, don’t pay attention to us, watch the movie,” [Y/N] says.

“This is free entertainment right here.”

[Y/N]’s hips jolt upwards. “You perv.”

“More moaning my name, less talking,” Dabi growls, ripping the blanket off [Y/N]. [Y/N]’s wearing a yellow sundress, that by now, is hitched up above their hips. Their panties are pushed to the side, showing their glistening sex. Dabi’s middle finger and ring finger disappear inside of them, his palm pressing against the clit roughly as he fingers them.

“I-Is this a normal occurrence?” you stutter, face turning the same color as your wings.

“P-pretty normal, yeah, oh, Dabi, right there!” [Y/N] trails off, grinding up for more friction.

“What can we say, we like to have fun here.”

By now, the other league members have turned around, movie be damned.

“How are y’all so casual about this?!”

“Don’t be like that, you’re having a good time too, bird brain,” Dabi smirks, eyes drifting to your growing erection.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. But he’s not wrong, both of them have got you so enamored. You hear the squelch and squeaks, the quickening of breaths.

“Dabi, I need you, need your cock,” you barely hear them whisper.

“Of course, doll. Lay down,” Dabi smiles softly, planting a kiss on their lips.

You don’t know if you’d rather be him or [Y/N].

[Y/N] slips down, horizontal on the couch. You eye Dabi as he stands straighter, nimble fingers unclasping his belt and pulling his cock out. It shimmers slightly in the TV light. He drags his cock along their folds, gathering wetness. He taps it against them. Without warning, he slams into them, both letting out a guttural sound at the sensation. His pace is slow, he’s gripping [Y/N]’s hips as a smack smack smack rings out as their bodies meet.

Somewhere behind you, you hear a zipper unzipping. You’re tempted to too, but would that be too soon? Must be, since this is basically your first official day here.

But you don’t deny how good [Y/N] looks taking Dabi’s cock. Hair splayed out, breasts moving under that sundress. You want to rip the dress off of them. Tt hold, knead at the flesh, and lick at the pert nipple. Your eyes travel down their body, where [Y/N] takes him in so nicely. How would they taste, you wonder.

And what about Dabi? Just the size of him could choke you out.

Dabi’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. “C’mon, man, if you’re just gonna stare at them, why don’t you play?”

“Nothin’ wrong with lookin,’” you trail off.

You so want to. Badly.

“Hawwwwkkks,” [Y/N] moans. “Let me taste you. Taste me. Whatever.”

“You heard them,” Dabi drawls.

One beat, and suddenly you’re up, fast as lightning. “[Y/N], let me take your dress off.”

“Okay,” [Y/N] lifts their arms as you pull the dress up over their head, revealing the tantalizing and smooth skin. You toss the dress somewhere to the side of you and rip off your gloves. You kneel beside them on the floor, slotting your mouth against theirs in an open mouthed kiss. Your hands sneak up, massaging their breasts and pinching the nipples.

You feel [Y/N]’s hand snake down your chest, and whimper as their hand grips your clothed cock. You pull away to bring it out. The tip is flushed red, a bead of precum forming at the slit. You stroke your hand down once, and move so your hips are flush with [Y/N]’s face.

“Nice dick,” [Y/N] and Dabi mutter at the same time.

“Jinx!” [Y/N] barks a laugh that soon turns into a moan at a particularly hard thrust.

[Y/N]’s tongue slides on the underside of your cock, massaging the vein there. Soon enough, it’s enveloped in their mouth and you fight to suppress a moan.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby.” [Y/N] hums, taking you in deeper. Their nose nuzzles the hair at the base of your dick slightly. They barely have to do any work as Dabi basically pushes them forward with each thrust. Dabi looks up at you with lazy eyes.

“Kiss me,” you plead, leaning in.

“That’s gay,” he says as he captures your lips with his.

You’ve never kissed a man before. He tastes like old cigarettes and mint. Your tongue slides against his teeth, and finally meets his tongue.

He’s got a tongue piercing.

How many piercings does this dude even have?

You jerk away without warning as [Y/N] does a particularly hard suck.

“Wanna feel their pussy?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Just because you’re new I’ll

let you.” Is this a trick?

You so want to.

[Y/N] pops off of you. “Dabs likes watching.”

“Does that even count since I’m also partaking?”

“I think so. Just get over here, I need your fat cock in my mouth. Not that yours wasn’t also good, Hawks. Just needs to be somewhere else,” [Y/N] says.

“Do it!” you hear.

Damn. You’re so wrapped up in these two, you forgot there was an audience. However, it seems that was the push you needed. You give the a-okay. Dabi nods, clearly pleased by your decision, and pulls out.

You trade places, [Y/N]’s hole flexing against nothing. You bring two fingers down to swipe at the wetness and run your tongue along the digits. You guide your cock in, letting out a satisfied moan at the warmth. [Y/N] squeezes your cock deliciously, and you almost want to come right then and there. You tell them so.

Your pace isn’t as brutal as Dabi’s but still elicits those sounds you're beginning to love out of [Y/N]’s mouth. A sick part of you hopes you’re better than Dabi, and that they will leave him for you.

Or maybe they’ll let you in again? How often do they do this sort of stuff, you wonder to yourself.

[Y/N] and Dabi are holding hands sweetly, their fingers brushing against his charred skin rhythmically.

Your hand moves to rub tight circles on their clit and you're squeezed impossibly tighter as a response.

“You gonna come, [Y/N]?” Dabi asks. “Getting sloppy there. Don’t bite, baby.”

“I’m so close,” [Y/N]’s voice dips off info nothingness at the end, mouth agape. They throw their head back as they move their hips against yours when your body meets theirs. “I want both of you to come inside of me.”

“Wasn’t gonna do it anywhere else,” Dabi chuckles.

“You want me to?” you ask.

“Yeah, fill me up good, Hawks.”

You glance at Dabi. He shrugs. Hope he doesn’t kill you for this.

“Oh shit,” you curse, feeling [Y/N] spasm around you and shudder.

You think Dabi comes at the same time you do. You slow to a languid pace, letting [Y/N]’s walls milk you.

“Good job, doll face,” you watch him lean down and peck [Y/N] on the forehead. “You too, bird brain.”

“Uh, thanks.” You pull out of [Y/N], and they wince at the loss. You tuck yourself back into your pants and [Y/N] wraps the blanket around their shoulders.

“Good show!” Twice says.

“Now let’s finish the movie,” Shigaraki huffs out.

“You have such a one track mind, Shiggy,” [Y/N] says, ruffling his hair.

“I’m just really invested.”

“Yeah, you were invested in us, too,” they say, looking down briefly.

“Oh shut up.” You catch a glimpse of his cock as he scurried to shove it back in his pants.

“See ya round, Hawks,” [Y/N] says, blowing you a kiss. They take Dabi’s hand in theirs and walk up the stairs at the back of the bar.

“Probably gonna fuck some more,” Spinner snickers.

You’re lucky your mic on the inside of your jacket just happened to die before you got up to some frisky business. This has got to be the weirdest thing you’ve been a part of: League of Villains just fuck as bonding activity.

Maybe you’ll keep this one to yourself. You wonder if they would ever invite you again.

#bnha #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #dabi x reader #dabi x hawks #dabi x reader x hawks #lemon #smut #dabi x you #hawks x you #bnha dabi #bnha hawks #my writing

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mieohmy · 3 years

Text

𝖪𝗂𝗌𝗌, 𝖪𝗂𝗌𝗌, 𝖬𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝖥𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾? | 𝖫𝖾𝖾 𝖩𝖾𝗇𝗈

PAIRING: lee jeno x reader

GENRE: fluff, humor, slight angst, friends-to-lovers, beginning relationship! au, slice of life! au, boyfriend! jeno

WC: 2.8k

NOTES: none

SUMMARY: in which jeno tries (and sadly fails) to kiss you five times, but he’ll never give up -no matter how oblivious you may seem to his advances.

⇒ part of the five days a week special.

#1.

Jeno doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Sure, you can develop an attraction or those flutters and all, but there’s none of that immediate, deep connection bull that some people talk about.

So, it’s perfectly fine for him to say that after being in a month-long relationship, he really likes you.

And no, it wasn’t one of those immediate pulls when he first laid eyes on you. Well, perhaps he did harbor a secret attraction that lasted for a while before he finally gathered the courage to ask you out after a year of being friends, but even so, jeno liked you then and he likes you even more now.

He likes being in a relationship with you- occasionally doing some of those couple things together, getting used to being with one another in a different, more intimate way -simply enjoying each other’s presence.

It’s only been a month of dating after all.

“A month?”

“...yeah?”

“And you’ve known them for how long?”

Jeno scratches his head, recalling back as far as he can. It surprises him how little he’s actually known you compared to how long he feels like he’s known you. “Maybe a year or so?”

Haechan raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Have you kissed yet?”

“What? Um...... no?”

He suddenly sits up, eyes boring into jeno. “You haven’t kissed yet? And you’ve known them for that long?”

Jeno frowns, annoyed at himself for actually feeling self-conscious at first. “I mean, I just said we started dating around a month ago.”

“Dude, it’s just kissing. If I were them, I’d be worried if you still hadn’t kissed me- like maybe wondering if there was some deeper reason you didn’t do it yet.”

“Don’t you want to, though?” Haechan adds after a second thought.

Or maybe it wasn’t dumb to feel that way.

Jeno fidgets in his seat. “Maybe? Y-yeah, I guess. I never really thought about it yet, we’re kinda just going at our own pace..”

He knows haechan means no harm, but after that day, he can’t help but get nervous whenever he sees you, overthinking every single thing you do- wondering if it’s a sign that you want him to kiss you.

Do you really want to?

Are you waiting for him to kiss you?

It’s consuming and distracting- it’s not hard for you to catch on that something's obviously bothering jeno.

“Is there something wrong?”

Jeno automatically shakes his head, quickly taking your hand in his as you walk down the street together.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

You glance at your joined hands before looking back at jeno. “You sure?”

He internally starts to panic, hands beginning to get sweaty. Is this a sign? Should he take the chance?

Jeno licks his lips nervously, stopping you in the middle of the sidewalk.

He quickly makes up his mind- he’s gonna do it now.

To be frank, jeno didn’t have any clue what he was doing, especially not when you were staring up at him expectantly after he stopped the both of you randomly.

Letting his instincts take over, he hopes that you catch onto his body language- one of his arms hovering behind you to bring you closer, eyes slowly closing and face moving closer in an attempt to find their way to yours.

But while trying so hard, he failed to notice that you really hadn’t caught onto his signals.

And to add onto that, as jeno leans closer and closer, unaware of what was really going on, someone calls your name from some places away and seeing how you’re already not paying attention to jeno’s advances, you turn away from him at the sound, searching for the source of your name being shouted.

Which left jeno to lean farther and farther, wondering as to why he hasn’t come into contact with anything yet, only to open his eyes too late and find the ground much closer than it should’ve been. And, as expected, he abruptly loses his balance and stumbles to the ground as you quickly turn back around and gasp in horror at the sight.

“Oh my god, jeno. Are you okay?!?”

He groans, still on the ground. Yes, he was perfectly okay, but after falling on his face after failing to kiss you in public, maybe he was a little hurt. (and a little embarrassed.)

#2.

Your face is so close to his, this must mean something, right?

It wasn’t jeno’s fault that he tried to give his cats a bath and they freaked out (as per usual), but this time, they, unfortunately, got the face.

You immediately brought a hand to cup over your mouth after witnessing the bright pink scratches on jeno’s pretty face when he showed up at your door, present with a sheepish eyesmile.

You practically dragged him in, forcing him to sit on the toilet seat as you obtained a first-aid kit.

His breath hitches as you hover over him, leaning closer to his face, eyebrows furrowed as you concentrate intently on cleaning the scratches. Silence fills the bathroom as jeno tries his best to stifle hisses and sounds of pain- his cats were certainly cute but deadly.

As he watches you work, eventually, his eyes flick down to your lips, and it’s the only thing he can focus on in sight as your face is so close to his, unmoving.

Alarms go off in his head- this is another golden opportunity.

He braces himself, this time making sure he isn’t going to slip off the toilet seat or anything beforehand, internally preparing himself as he begins to close the distance once more.

“I’m done!” You say in such a satisfied and bright tone, it surprises jeno as he almost flinches and his eyes fly open, staring at you and trying his best to keep his mouth from dropping open.

You stare back with a confused albeit cute grin, eyes wide and questioning at his sudden strange act.

You must’ve not noticed, he thinks mournfully, watching as you pack up the first aid kit, unbothered.

Jeno unconsciously sighs, following you out of the bathroom with a slight pout. Attempt number two, fail...

#3.

After seeing how the last two attempts went, jeno contemplates just straight up asking if he could kiss you.

If you weren’t able to catch on the last two times, maybe just simply informing you beforehand would be easier, right?

Famous last words.

But it proves to be harder than he thinks.

Much harder.

Throughout the whole time at your place together, eating dinner and watching movies, jeno just can’t do it. Every time there’s an open chance for him to ask you, he constantly chickens out.

He watches you eat your food-not in a creepy way- smiling when he notices some food at the corner of your mouth.

This is it. After helping you, hopefully, you get the memo, and then jeno can ask you -and it’s all smooth sailing from there.

He finishes chewing before speaking up, taking his chance. “Y/n, you have something on your lips.”

You blink, trying to hide your embarrassment by quickly searching for your napkin.

This is it.

Jeno takes his own napkin, reaching over the table to help you. You freeze as he helps wipe your mouth, touch soft and gentle.

Jeno pauses after finishing, looking into your eyes hesitantly. “C-can I ki-“

The sound of your phone ringing cuts through the air, and jeno can only stand there, dumbfounded, as you excuse yourself with an apologetic smile.

He doesn’t even move an inch from his position, still hovered over the table towards your seat where you were sitting just a few minutes earlier until someone just had to call you and interrupt the moment.

After finishing, you make your way back towards him, patting the top of his head, to which he unfreezes at.

“Sorry jen, what were you about to say?”

He swallows, avoiding eye contact. It was too late, the moment was over.

“Nothing, it wasn't important.”

If anything, he feels more embarrassed and more anxious afterward at how he failed to ask you such a simple question.

After dinner, jeno joins you on the couch as you scroll through the list of movies and shows to watch tonight.

“Hmm... what do you think?”

Jeno doesn’t reply, lost in his thoughts and still working up the confidence to ask you four mere words-

can i kiss you?

“Jeno?” You repeat his name several times until his head shoots towards you, eyes wide. “Yes? Did you say something?”

“Yeah, uh, is there a specific movie or show you wanted to watch?”

Jeno quickly shakes his head, offering you to choose for tonight.

He bites his lip when you eventually find and start one, scooting closer to him and enjoying his warmth. But you don’t say anything, and jeno’s left alone to lose himself in his thoughts.

And throughout the whole movie, his mind is far away, still trying to find the perfect moment to ask. But it doesn’t seem like there’ll ever be a perfect moment- not when you’re so focused on the movie and oblivious to your surroundings.

When it seems like there’s finally a break part in the movie, jeno clears his throat.

“H-hey, y/n...”

“Yeah?” You murmur distractedly.

“I- uh, well,” he stutters.

You finally turn, attention fully on jeno now.

And he panics. “Uh-yeah, I need to use the restroom...”

He wants to punch himself as soon as those words leave his mouth.

You cock an eyebrow, amused. “Okay? You can just go, you know, there’s no need to tell me.”

He shyly nods, face ablaze while hoping you can’t tell in the darkness of the room as he makes his escape.

Why is this proving to be so much harder than he thought?

He gives himself a quick pep talk in the bathroom before coming out and returning to your side, letting out a sigh in the process.

Meanwhile, as much as you were indeed invested in the movie, you didn’t fail to take note of jeno’s behavior.

His body language and actions made it obvious that he wasn’t paying attention to the movie, leaving you to unconsciously pout.

Jeno falters at the sight of your puckered lips- is this another one of your tricks or?

He’s obviously paying no mind to the movie- he had absolutely no clue what was even going on- but he goes for it, mouth opening to ask one last time, but you beat him before he can say anything.

“Are you okay, Jen?”

He coughs awkwardly. “Huh? What do you mean? I’m perfectly fine?”

You glance from the animated screen and back to jeno. “I mean... it doesn’t look like you’re paying attention to the movie. Are you not enjoying it?”

Jeno abruptly protests, deciding to give up on the kiss for tonight and just focus on enjoying the time he has with you today. But he still can’t help but feel a sense of defeat and failure, like he wasn’t able to meet your or his own expectations.

You frown, obliviously shaking your head with a sigh. Your jeno, too much of a sweetheart to just tell you the truth that he doesn’t like the movie.....

#4.

It’s been a while since jeno’s tried to do anything, although the thought has never left his mind.

It’s always in the back of his head, getting more and more prevalent as time goes on with you.

If you never mentioned anything about it, that must mean you don’t mind not having kissed yet, right?

Right?

He shakes his head, trying to clear it of any thoughts and focus on cooking with you- which you randomly suggested one day for him to come over and help.

You easily welcome him into your apartment, and jeno’s eyes automatically land on the couch in the living room- where his attempts to kiss you miserably failed just a few weeks ago.

He swerves away, urging a startled you to the kitchen to start cooking.

“What are we making?”

You hum, tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. “I dunno, anything works.”

Jeno bites back a laugh, staring at you with an endeared gaze. “So you invited me over here not knowing what we were gonna eat?”

You shrug sheepishly, taking out matching aprons for you both to put on. “Well, you know I wanted to get better at cooking, plus I just missed you too so...”

He lets himself laugh at that, quickly helping you tie the back of your apron. He hesitates while finishing the knot, should he do it now?

No, jeno thinks, be patient. It’ll happen when it happens.

You decide on pasta- a simple recipe that you could easily learn and somehow had all the ingredients to in a non-cooking household.

“Teach me your ways, master chef,” you joke.

He boops your nose with his finger, playfully guiding you to the sink. “Alright, my first task for my first apprentice.”

He places an onion on the table in front of you. “Wash and cut an onion.”

You nod determinedly, exhaling through your nose. “Okay, I got this.”

He smiles adoringly, letting you start as he works on boiling the noodles.

But he didn’t expect for you to call out, “I’m done!” a mere three minutes later, a satisfied look on your face. Jeno raises his eyebrows, making his way over to you. “You’re fast.”

You stand by your work with a proud grin.

Jeno blinks.

And you wait, slowly becoming more and more confused as jeno doesn’t say anything.

“Y/n,” he slowly starts.

“Yeah?”

“Did you not peel the onion?”

Your mouth drops to a surprised ‘o’.

Jeno tries his hardest to hold it in, looking down at your disheveled mess of onion slices and biting his lip.

But he can’t.

He bursts out laughing, instinctively bringing you closer to him as he wipes away his tears- from laughing or the onions he isn’t sure.

You stutter in his hold, trying to come up with a reasonable response, but eventually giving up and joining him in his flurry of laughter.

He glances at you in the heat of the moment and the sight of you laughing so carefree, eyes sparkling, makes his breath hitch.

And all of a sudden, he gets the urge to kiss you.

And not fail this time.

He gulps, pulling you even closer to him by the edges of your apron.

And your laughter slowly dies down as you realize the change in the atmosphere, jeno staring at you with a much more intense gaze than before.

He leans in, slowly but with much more confidence now that your attention was actually on him.

Your eyes widen before involuntarily closing, heart pounding.

This is it, he thinks, slowly but surely closing the space between you two.

And jeno feels the ghost of your lips on his-

before the doorbell rings.

You jump back, startled and breathless, while jeno freezes, utterly astounded and speechless.

He curses the delivery man, ringing on your doorbell with the wrong package for the wrong address.

Needless to say, jeno went home defeated without a kiss that night.

#5.

Jeno has given up.

So many failed attempts- it’s like the universe simply doesn’t want him to kiss you.

The whole night when you’re all out together with your friends, he never leaves your side.

And his gaze never leaves your lips, either.

He tries to be discreet, hoping that you don’t notice, and jeno believes he has succeeded when by the end of the night, where everyone’s saying their goodbyes and leaving, you haven’t mentioned a single thing.

When just about everyone’s gone, you pull Jeno back, causing him to let out a startled noise, watching you with a confused face.

And then you plant both of your hands on either side of his cheek.

Jeno’s insides start to churn, mind whirling. What’s going on?

And his answer is in the form of a soft kiss on his lips.

You pull back a few seconds later, a determined look on his face.

“I know you’ve been trying to kiss me.”

His mouth drops open.

“And if you wanted to do it so bad, you should’ve just said so.”

His brain malfunctions, trying to find the right words while also processing what just happened.

“well... can we do it again then?”

✢

No, jeno still doesn’t believe in love at first sight.

But whenever he lays his eyes on you- from the first time he met you as friends, until a year later in a happy relationship- jeno can say that without a doubt, he loves you.

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#cznnet #kpopscape #nct dream #nct dream x reader #lee jeno #jeno #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #nct dream scenarios #lee jeno scenarios #nct dream imagines #jeno imagines #lee jeno imagines #nct dream fluff #jeno fluff #five days a week #nct x reader

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for-fucks-sake-h · 3 years

Text

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

a/n: Hiiii! Huge thanks to @goldenbluesuit for organizing this 25 days of christmas fic challenge! So happy I could be a part of it! And thanks to my girls @andwhenshesays @oh-honey-styles for all the knives 😏 Enjoy babes and happy holidays! x

rated: m, mature || word count: 3.6k

You moved the same ornament for the third time in the last hour. It was Christmas Eve, and nearing midnight. You were trying not to get too antsy… but it wasn’t much use.

His day on set ran late, as it did most of the time. But tonight wasn’t “most nights”, or a FaceTime call that could be picked up whenever. He knew how much you loved the holiday, and how excited you were to share it with him. And he promised he’d be home for it.

He promised.

But he missed his flight, and now he was behind schedule. You knew what you were signing up for with him - the most sought after man you’d ever encountered. He was constantly being pulled every which way. And it didn’t bother you much. No, you really didn’t mind. You just wanted one night, one night where he was on time, when you didn’t get the “running late” text or “don’t wait up” call.

You’d gotten it though. You’d gotten the first call three hours ago… which was two hours after you had expected him to be home. And then another call every hour since. He’d asked you to play the song, keep it playing until he got there. But the minutes turned into hours with no sight of him. You kept waiting, hoping you’d hear the garage opening for him to pull his car inside, the jingle of the bell ornament on the door handle, the patter of his socked feet on the floor.

Instead, nothing but silence.

You were blowing out the cookie scented candle that was perched on the coffee table when your phone rang softly beneath a pillow on the couch. It was going to be the “go to bed without me, love” call, you could feel it.

“Hi,” you answered.

“Still playing the song?” His voice was deep, an easy tone that was saved just for you.

“Harry,” you sighed. “It’s almost midnight, babe.” Despite your words and disposition, Frank Sinatra was still serenading you with I’ll Be Home For Christmas from the record player in the corner of your living room.

“I know, love.” He sounded the slightest bit defeated. He tried, you know he did. “Just keep it on, yeah? Manifesting and what not.”

You smiled softly, but kept quiet. You loved him - you loved him so much. But you also felt like you missed him more than you physically got to love him.

“How is the storm there?” you asked softly, as if you hadn’t already checked the weather at JFK. As if you didn’t already know that inclement weather had his nonstop flight from LA to London changing to a connection in New York, that his flight was delayed, that it was more likely than not that he was stuck there.

“Not good, angel.”

You sighed. You knew, but it hurt to hear him say it.

“Don’t lose hope yet. Jeff’s working on it,” he added quickly.

“Don’t think Jeff is a miracle worker, H.”

Harry hummed softly. “He’s been known to work his magic on more than one occasion.”

You appreciated his optimism. And you hoped he was right. You hoped that Jeff could find some way to get him home. You just… wanted to wake up with him on Christmas morning. You felt selfish for it, but you also didn’t. Because it wasn’t selfish to want him around. Especially for the holidays. Isn’t that what most people wanted? To share the holidays with their loved ones? And who did you love more than him?

“Think I’m gonna head to bed,” you solemnly spoke.

“Okay, love. Just… humor me, okay? Keep the song on.”

***

The slightest tickle against your cheek pulled you from sleep. You could smell his cologne before you even opened your eyes, and you could have sworn it was a dream. The softest touch of his fingers grazing your cheek and jaw, his breath against your temple before you felt the soft press of his mouth against your skin.

“You kept it on,” he stated softly, just before he tapped pause on your phone laying on the nightstand.

“Course,” you whispered, eyes still closed as his lips teased down your temple and across your cheek.

You shifted until you could blindly wrap your arms around his shoulders, his face tucking perfectly into your warm neck.

“Missed you,” he offered quietly, the syllables pressing into your skin to travel down your spine.

You squeezed him tighter, inhaling his scent that mixed with the murkiness from the snow. “How’d you get here?” you asked, your own lips pressing against his neck.

“Told you Jeff had some magic left.”

You squeezed again, his own arms tightening around your waist. “Remind me to send him an edible arrangement.”

He chuckled warmly, his breath cascading across your neck and down your chest, his lips puckering against your skin. He pulled back abruptly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your neck where his lips just were. The early morning light was just barely coming through the shades, illuminating the room in the softest yellow glow.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his thumb caressing your cheek repeatedly.

“I missed you too.” You pulled him in by his open dress shirt, his lips meeting yours instantly. They were warm and full, emotion in every caress. You missed his kiss; the way you could feel closer to him just by having his lips on yours.

You reached up to push your fingers through his hair, ready to feel the soft, thick strands - only to be met with the hard resistance of hair gel. You were the one pulling back this time, catching a glimpse of his tired eyes and puffy mouth just before you took in the rest of his appearance - a white button down that was undone as far as you could see, a white tank top beneath, and an opened bow tie hanging from his collar.

You leaned over the bed to see black dress pants with suspenders hanging from his hips. He was perched on one knee, his other foot planted on the floor, his knee spread wide to accommodate his close proximity to your bedside.

“You’re still in wardrobe?”

He snickered softly. “Ran out of there so quickly I forgot my clothes. Just bolted as soon as I could.”

You smiled with him, pulling him in again by his open shirt. “Well, you look amazing. Only you could look like this after a night of traveling.”

He did look amazing. And felt amazing. Everything about him reeled you in. Your time apart only heightened how much you loved him - and needed him.

His lips traveled down your jaw and neck, sucking softly with each kiss. Every move of his mouth made your skin tingle in its wake, begging for more.

“God, you’re so warm,” he murmured against your skin, his arms wrapping around you once more as his mouth made its way down your chest to kiss and suck the swell of your breast. “And naked,” he chuckled softly, pulling the blanket down to expose more of your skin. “I missed you so much.”

Your breath shuddered when he took hold of your thighs, turning your body on the bed until he could lift one of your knees up and over his head. His hands caressed the outsides of your thighs, tugging you gently so that your ass was resting at the edge of the bed, your knees spread open for him to slot between.

Your chest rose and fell harshly as the cool air of the room hit your center. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching as he looked down between your thighs, knowing you ached just for him. His hair was perfectly coiffed, and if it wasn’t for his disheveled shirt and the utter longing written all over his face, you would have thought he was unphased.

But then his breath caught, and the smallest, moaning sigh slipped from his lips as his hands squeezed your thighs once more, his need palpable.

“Fuck. You’re perfect.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it made you clench down around nothing.

You sucked in a breath. “Please, H.”

“Just a taste,” he promised, flicking his eyes up to yours for a brief moment before returning to your core. “Just need one taste.”

One of his hands smoothed down and under your thigh, his fingers momentarily caressing along the softest part of your inner thigh. He was careful when his fingers skimmed your outermost lips, a ghost of a touch that resembled the faintest tickle, but had your skin burning nonetheless.

A soft moan escaped your bitten lip when he spread you open fully, his intake of breath at the sight of you - glistening with need - was so palpable you felt like you could feel his tongue before it actually touched you.

“Harry,” you sighed, desperation threaded through your tone.

“I know, love. Can see how bad you want it.”

You moaned softly, your hips arching towards him more; a wordless beg.

“Missed me too, huh?”

You didn’t say anything - couldn’t really, not with the way you could feel his words caress the most sensitive part of you. His breath was so warm it was shocking, your knees jerking slightly against your will.

“Be good, angel.” His words were a warning, but his tone was a challenge. And his actions - the way he smoothed his first and middle finger along either side of your clit, so close yet so far from where you needed him - well, that made you think he was just waiting for you to make the next move. Knowing Harry, he liked the beg. He liked it when you were needy and gasping for him. But he also liked it when you showed that you couldn’t take it anymore.

So in a moment of brash decision, you went with the latter, reaching down to take hold of his matted hair and pull him closer to your core. His responding chuckle was deep and laced with arousal, and his breath hit you like a fan on a hot summer day. He hummed from the back of his throat, the softest touch of his lips grazing along your sensitive clit.

“Gonna show me you missed me?” He didn't pull away, simply welcomed the burn at his roots from your tightly fisted hand, all while the tip of his middle finger grazed just barely along your clit. “Want me to lick here?”

“Yes,” you whined, tugging on his hair once more.

That was the thing about Harry; he liked to tease, but he didn’t prolong it. Deep down you knew that he wanted to lick into your warm center just as much as you wanted him to. And he knew it too.

He circled your clit slowly, his shaky breath meeting your wetness in a huff as he dipped the tip of his tongue into you, his nose brushing against the hood of your clit just enough to have you arching into his touch. It was brief, but it had your core clenching on its own accord and your hand tightening in his again even more. You weren’t sure how it didn’t hurt him - you were insistent, squeezing and tugging relentlessly. But you also knew he liked the little zap of pain that zipped down his spine when you pulled hard enough, or dug your nails into his back, or squeezed his neck just right.

When he suctioned his mouth over your clit with a groan, the warmth encasing you as his tongue drilled against your clit over and over again, you couldn’t help your neck from snapping back and your legs widening that tiny bit more for him, ready to absorb every ounce of pleasure he gave. It wasn’t something you thought about, but something you had noticed over time. The way you subconsciously wanted to be as exposed to him as possible, yearning to feel him fully, in every sense.

“Ah, my god,” you gasped, lifting your head to look down at him and watch the pleasure grace his features as he pleasured you.

His hair was disheveled where it stuck out between your fingers, his eyebrows furrowed deeply as his eyes - hazy and fucked out - flicked up to meet yours. His nose pressed against your mound, the smallest crinkle forming on the bridge as he flattened his tongue on your clit more, warm and strong in every stroke.

“I need… more,” you breathed. “I want you inside me.”

He quickly turned to bite into your inner thigh, the zip of pain mixing with your pleasure as his index and middle finger teased along your entrance before slowly pushing into you. “Not what I meant,” you whined despite your core pulsing around his digits.

“Wanna taste you come, angel.” He pumped his fingers slowly, curling up to brush along your g-spot, his breath ricocheting against your clit. “Can I? Will you let me taste it, love?”

Your back arched off the bed, tilting your hips towards him more just as he licked over your clit again. “Fuck,” you moaned, your hips finding a rhythm with his hand and mouth until you were practically fucking his face, pushing down onto his fingers with every pump.

And his groan - the sounds he made as he licked you, his fingers a steady pressure, his other hand gripping your hip tightly - it all worked together to bring you right to the edge, pulling his hair tighter when he had you free falling with a persistent stroke of his tongue. The vibration of his moans only added to your pleasure, shockwaves shooting throughout your body as your orgasm rolled through you. It was intense, overwhelming, exhilarating.

“God, Harry,” you sighed as he eased his fingers from your core, his tongue quickly dipping into you instead, tasting your arousal; warm and heady on his tongue.

“That’s my girl,” he spoke with his cheek against your inner thigh, turning to plant a hot kiss there. “Needed that as much as you did.”

His words sent a shiver across your skin at the exact moment that he kissed his way over the top of your thigh. You sat up as quickly as you could, still shaky and fuzzy headed, but eager for more of him.

A gentle tug of his hair had his mouth landing on yours, warm and wet and tasting of you. His tongue was welcomed, smoothing over yours in a quick pass as a soft moan slipped up his throat. His arm wrapped around you while his other hand found its way into the back of your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back for him.

“I want you so bad I can barely breathe,” he murmured into your neck. You could envision the way his lips curved around the words, feeling every movement on your skin. One of his hands lifted to tug you back by your hair, his glossy eyes meeting yours with an insufferable amount of need. “Will you have me?”

You reached down to frantically tug on his shirt, pulling it from where it was still sloppily tucked into his dress pants. “Fuck. Please,” you rushed as you tugged open the last button and pushed the shirt from his shoulders, wanting him just as desperately.

He pulled you in by the back of your neck, mouth meeting yours fervently, his breathing ragged as he fumbled with his belt and button, pushing his suspender clad pants down just enough. You barely separated when he eagerly pulled his tank top off, his hands quickly finding purchase on your hips as soon as it was discarded. You smoothed your palms over his chest, nails grazing against his collarbones before digging into the tops of his pecs, feeling the way his heart shuddered in his chest.

No sooner was he grasping you tighter and pulling you into him fully; your ass slipping off the edge of the bed and into his waiting lap. You gripped onto his shoulders tighter and all at once he was reaching down to guide his length into you, both of your panting breaths hitting each other’s lips over and over.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered as he filled you, rock solid and almost too warm as you eased onto his waiting length. Your hips moved against his methodically, as if from memory, with no justification from your mind whatsoever, until you were sat fully, his tip prodding the deepest parts of you.

Harry's breath hit your neck first, a groan following close behind to paint your skin in a warm, delicious hue of gold. “Christ,” he exhaled against your clammy skin, pulling you impossibly close, your chests and pelvis pressed tightly together. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Take me so well, love.”

You hummed in response, the sound barely squeaking out between your parted lips as your core clenched around him in a vice grip. An experimental tilt of your hips had your clit brushing against the neat patch of hair at the top of his groin, a sharp contrast to the absolute fullness of having him inside you after so long. And then his hands were guiding you, practically pumping your hips onto his length as a moan ripped from your throat.

“God, fuck me,” he groaned with his face tucked into your neck.

“You feel so good.” Your voice was a whine and a plea at the same time, intent on absorbing everything he gave. He did miss you, every part of you felt his longing rippling off his skin with every move he made; every pump of his hips, every swipe of his tongue against your skin, every squeeze of his hands into your flesh, everything cementing the overpowering feeling of need coursing through your veins.

You moaned against his throat, nipping at his flushed skin as he fucked into you at a deafening pace. And then he was pushing you away from him, a pathetic sound leaving your throat when his cock slipped from you as he pushed you up onto the bed. You blinked heavily, dazed, before you were grappling to get a hold on him to pull him closer. His arm wrapped under your waist, his mouth falling onto yours with a sigh as he shimmied you both up and up, until you were both sprawled out on the bed. His movements were rushed, flustered, more than eager to slip back into you. His weight was overwhelming, pressing you further into the mattress as his tongue teased into your mouth, your taste still prominent.

You both released matching sighs when you reached down to guide him back to you, his hips sinking into yours in one delicious stroke. His hands found your neck, cupping the sides of your throat just enough to make your skin burn hotter as he found his rhythm.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your fingers immediately finding your clit as fire shot through your veins.

He was intoxicating, and chasing your high with him even more so. You couldn’t get enough. He made you feel like every single inch of your skin could ignite in flames at any given moment, and he was more than willing to succumb to the burn.

Harry grunted roughly. “Y’gonna make me cum,” he warned in his deep, honeyed voice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded with barely any breath. His strokes were relentless, and you matched his rhythm as you played with your clit, the nails of your opposite hand digging in the plush skin of his ass cheek. “I’m so close, don’t stop.”

“Won’t- won’t stop,” he grunted out between clenched teeth. “So fucking wet, love.” You could hear the way his skin slapped against yours, the sounds your bodies made so filthy and beautiful it overwhelmed you. “Come on, cum again for me.”

“Oh god,” you gasped, your fingers speeding up as Harry hit the same spot in you over and over again, his thrusts deliberate and precise despite his own impending release.

“Fuck, please love,” he begged hotly against your mouth, his hips staggering into yours for those last few thrusts, his fingers tightening on your throat just enough to tip you over the edge.

And when you fell, oh when you fucking fell, you floated up into the air first, suspended at the very top of your orgasm for a moment before you were toppling down the side of a mountain. Your legs shook with it, fingers digging into his skin even more, crying out into his mouth as your body convulsed. All it took was three more rough jolts of Harry’s hips into yours to have him slamming into the hilt, stilling with his hips tight against yours as rope after rope of his orgasm filled you, groaning desperately into your mouth.

He all but collapsed on top of you, his face falling into your neck as you both tried to catch your breath. “Your pussy feels like it has its own pulse,” he remarked breathlessly into your clammy skin before he slowly pulled his length from you.

Your legs felt like they were still vibrating as your chest heaved against his, your arms and legs falling out widely against the mattress, Harry’s practically doing the same. You could feel the way his release slowly seeped from your core, too exhausted and exhilarated to care.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” you sighed, a lazy smile spreading across your face.

“Mhm,” he agreed with a chuckle, lifting his head to find your lips and taste you fully. He rolled, pulling you with him so that you were both laying on your sides across the end of the bed. “Let’s shower,” he murmured as he brushed your hair back, his happiness seeping through his tone, “and then we can do presents.”

You nodded with your eyes still closed, pushing your face into his neck more as you scratched up and down his back, breathing in his warmth and love.

You may have missed him a disgusting amount while he was gone - but he always found his way home.

***

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