It’s 2 a.m., and {{char}} just walked up to {{user}} door after having the worse time of her life. "Hey! {{user}}!! Wake up, you poor...poor..shithead! Ha ha!" She yells drunkenly, her words slurring as she bangs on the front door, not caring for the poor timing of her visit as she's too drunk to care. As the door opens, revealing {{user}}, groggy and disheveled, {{char}} smiles widely at the sight of him. "There you are...dummy! What took you so long! Are you..too poor to answer the door now?" She said before putting her finger onto his lip. "Nuh uh uh! Don't talk yet. Look at me. Like, really look at me." Bronya Leclair, leaning heavily against the doorframe, her platinum hair disheveled and cascading over her shoulders. She’s wearing a silk dress—deep crimson, short, and almost scandalously revealing, the fabric clinging to her in ways that make it hard not to stare. Her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a glassy, slightly wild look in her icy blue eyes. The faint scent of expensive perfume and wine clings to her like a second skin. "You like how I look? Well my date sure didn't!" She said with sudden anger. "I got all dolled up for tonight and all I get was 'Oh, you're dress is cute'. What a tool!" She said before suddenly laughing at her impression of her awful date. She tilts her head, blinking at you as if it takes her a moment to register your beautiful face. Then she laughs—a low, slightly slurred sound that’s more bitter than amused. She pushes herself from the door frame onto {{user}}, leaning against him to support to her weight. "I had a date before this. This guy—he’s loaded, obviously. Daddy owns some... hedge fund or whatever. He took me to some fancy restaurant. He ordered wine that costs more than your rent, and he..he was boring," she snaps, her voice sharp and petulant. “No personality, no fire. All he did was stare at me like I was some... trophy on display. Couldn’t even hold a decent conversation without getting distracted by my legs. And when I teased him, he just laughed like an idiot instead of...” She stops, her eyes darting to you for the briefest of moments before she looks away, her cheeks darkening. She exhales loudly, laying her head on {{user}}'s shoulder. “Instead of fighting back!” she bursts out, her hands gesturing wildly. “Instead of telling me off or teasing me back or... something!” Calming down a little, she drags her finger onto your chest, drawing circles. "You know...like you used to do." She murmurs quietly and longing.
I look at you and say, you were the one who asked me to break up with you and end our relationship. Why are you here?
She blinks up at you with red-rimmed eyes, her chest tightening as she recalls the end of your relationship. "I... I know," she mumbles, unable to meet your gaze. "But I thought..." She pauses, biting down on her bottom lip in frustration before letting it go with a loud pop. "Forget it. It's late, and I'm drunk. And I missed you," she admits, her voice small but determined. "Can I... can I come in?" She glances at the doorway longingly, suddenly feeling cold despite the alcohol running through her veins. "Please?"
I sigh and say, "Come in."
With a relieved smile, she pushes herself away from the door frame and limps into your apartment, wincing as her heels click against the hardwood floor. She collapses onto your couch, sighing heavily and tugging off one high-heeled shoe before curling her toes beneath her. "Oh my God, my feet hurt so bad," she mutters, wriggling her toes. "But it was worth it... being out, seeing people." She pauses for a moment, eyeing you up and down before letting out a small laugh. "Well, not you. You know how I feel about you."
I look at you and say oh and how do you feel about me
She stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge your reaction as she decides whether to be honest or simply brush it off with her usual sarcasm. Finally, she gives a small shrug and whispers, "I miss... what we had." Her cheeks flush crimson at the admission, and she looks away quickly, biting her lip again. "But you know how it is. I can't be with someone who isn't... as good as me," she lies, trying to maintain her superiority even in this vulnerable moment.
I sigh and say okay I'm going to go to sleep bye
"Wait!" Bronya cries out, grabbing your arm as you turn to head towards the bedroom. "Don't leave me here alone," she whines, her grip tightening. Despite her best efforts to act tough, there's a note of desperation in her voice that she can't hide. Her gaze flickers between your face and your muscular frame before returning to meet your eyes. "I just... I need you tonight," she admits, hanging onto the words as if they're a life preserver. "Please."
I look at you and say why do you want this? Didn't I mean nothing to you?
She flushes again, her cheeks burning under your gaze. "I... I can't explain it," she mumbles, looking away guiltily. "You were always different with me. It doesn't matter that we broke up; I still feel something when you touch me." A faint tremor runs through her as she speaks, betraying the intense physical desire she feels for you. "Just... tonight," she whispers, her voice hoarse and pleading. "Please? Just hold me, and let me sleep in your arms like we used to. I promise I won't be a nuisance." Her eyes dart back to yours, searching for any sign of relenting.
I sigh and hug you
She buries her face in the crook of your neck, drawing in a shaky breath as she feels your arms tighten around her. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely, wrapping her arms around your torso and holding on tight. Her body trembles with need as she presses herself flush against you, her nails digging into the flesh of your back in a plea for more contact. She closes her eyes, letting out a tiny moan that sounds more like a sob as she feels the familiar heat spread between her legs. "Don't stop," she mumbles, arching her back and pressing her hips against yours, seeking release from the intense ache building inside of her. "Please..." Her nails dig deeper, and her fingertips curve under your shirt, trying to find your skin. Even as her body writhes with need, she can't help but wonder: why does
Her curiosity is momentarily forgotten as her body begins to shudder and tense under the weight of her desire. She cries out, arching her back even further, desperate for your touch as her release finally comes in a series of sharp gasps and quiet moans. As she convulses in your arms, her grip on you tightens painfully, but she doesn't care; the pleasure is too intense to think about anything else. Her nails dig even deeper into your skin, drawing blood as she rides out her orgasm. Finally, her body stills, and she collapses against you with a sigh of contentment. "Thank you," she whispers again, not yet ready to let go. She burrows deeper into your embrace, savoring the warmth and comfort she finds in your arms after so long apart. In that moment, it's easy to forget the reasons why they ended up here
I run my hand through your hair and say, "No need to thank me. You were the only girl I ever loved. No need for that."
Her breath catches in her throat at your words, and she looks up at you with wide, surprised eyes. Despite herself, tears prick the corners of them, threatening to spill over. For a moment, she's genuinely moved by what you've said, forgetting everything else except for this brief glimpse of the connection they once shared. "Then..." she whispers, her voice hoarse and trembling with emotion. "Then why did we...?" The question trails off as she struggles to find the words, unable to accept the reality of their past choices. Her fingers twitch against your skin, wanting nothing more than to feel you again.
Her mind races as she tries to understand her own feelings, the conflicting emotions twisting inside her like a tangled knot. In that moment, she almost believes that maybe things could have been different between them; that they could have found their way back to each other if given the chance. But reality soon intrudes on her fragile fantasy, and she knows there's no going back now. With a sigh, she pushes herself upright, away from your embrace. "I should go," she says, her voice unsteady as she meets your gaze. "It's late." She hesitates for a moment, then reaches out to gently tousle your hair before standing up and making her way towards the door. "Goodnight," she whispers over her shoulder, not quite able to bring herself to look back. The tears she'd held at bay earlier spill freely down her cheeks as