#Let’s pretend that they’d ever talk like this or this casually to each other

[watermelonsloth]

White Zetsu: We’re like a big happy family! And I’m the dad and Kisame’s the mom!

Kisame: Why am I the mom? What gender roles are we pushing here?

Itachi: I know they’re probably thinking I’m the son, but I’m not. I’ll be the gay emo cousin.

Deidara: I will be the son! The hotshot! Who’s only dream… is to be a star.

Kakuzu: I feel like I’d be a fresh out of jail uncle

Sasori: And I’ll be the sassy aunt… who talks shit about everyone

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Night She Finally Gave In | LN4

🎀 summary ━━━━━━━ For eight months, Y/N teased, denied, and kept Lando chasing—but he never gave up. Until one night she finally gives in. 

🎀 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🎀 word count ━━━━━━━ 7.9k

🎀 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing

Based on this request.

The persistent hum of the city pulsed against Y/N’s ears as she stepped off the crowded London sidewalk and into a cozy Shoreditch lounge. Music throbbed under low lighting, and the place was already bustling with familiar chatter. Tonight, she was meeting Pietra and Max for casual drinks, but she knew one other person would be there—someone who’d been on her mind more than she cared to admit. Lando Norris.

She spotted Pietra first, her friend waving her over from a corner booth. Max, Pietra’s boyfriend and Lando’s best friend, grinned in greeting. Y/N slid into the booth and unwrapped her scarf, letting the warmth of the lounge soak into her. Before she could even settle, an electric awareness sparked at the base of her spine. She sensed him near before she actually saw him. And sure enough, there he was—leaning against the bar, exchanging an easy laugh with the bartender, but already casting sideways glances in her direction.

For over half a year, Lando had chased after her with single-minded obsession. The moment they’d been introduced—eight months ago at a friend’s barbecue—he’d made his interest painfully obvious. Texts at odd hours, random calls whenever he was in London, spontaneous outings with their mutual friends that always ended with him trying to corner her for a private moment.

She found it thrilling at first. She teased him mercilessly, indulging in the attention of someone so persistent and quite obviously smitten. She’d let him buy her drinks, whisper silly compliments that made her cheeks warm, and flirt back just enough to get his heart pounding. But any time he tried to escalate—from a lean-in kiss to a direct request for a date—she’d reject him. Gently, but firmly. Over and over.

Why did she do it? Maybe she wanted to protect herself from the potential heartbreak of dating a man adored by millions. Or maybe she reveled in the power of knowing that someone as high-profile as Lando Norris was practically wrapped around her finger. Whatever the reason, the game had dragged on for months, and he never gave up. If anything, each rejection only seemed to strengthen his resolve.

And how he persevered. In those eight months, she had watched him run himself ragged trying to impress her. No matter what she threw at him—a dismissive laugh, a pointed change of subject, a half-hearted excuse—he always came back stronger. She’d catch glimpses of his frustration sometimes, in the tight line of his mouth or the way he’d fist his hands at his sides, but he never unleashed that frustration on her. Instead, he teased, he flirted, he praised. And every time she knocked him down, he got up again, more determined than ever.

Lando was desperate. His affection for her had morphed into an all-consuming fascination. When he was away in Monaco, racing or fulfilling sponsor obligations, he’d tell Max how he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d message Pietra, trying to get any new details about Y/N’s day. He was head over heels, losing sleep, replaying every interaction they’d ever had—each brush of the fingers, each clever remark that made him laugh, each time she chewed her lip and pretended not to look at him, even though he felt her gaze.

She, meanwhile, was enjoying the slow burn. It was cruel in a way, but exhilarating. She loved the sense of power over a man who had the entire world at his feet yet seemed willing to crawl if it meant she’d say yes. She wasn’t intentionally cruel—she did like him. In fact, she liked him a lot. But the thrill of him chasing and her evading was addicting. She made sure to flirt just enough to keep him on the hook—an extra lingering stare, a subtle graze of her hand across his chest whenever she passed by him at a party, a playful text that ended with a winking emoji—only to turn cold if he tried to corner her for anything more.

And it worked. She reeled him in, then pushed him away, over and over. Each time, he fell deeper under her spell, thoroughly bewitched by the side-smiles, the confident tilt of her chin, the way she’d arch an eyebrow whenever he tried to inch closer. Lando found himself wanting her with a fierceness he’d never felt before. Some nights he’d lie awake in Monaco, scrolling through photos of them at group events—her bright eyes, her maddening half-smiles—and wonder what he had to do to make her his.

So here she was again, sliding into a lounge booth with Pietra and Max, fully aware of Lando’s presence across the room. She greeted her friends with a sweet smile, but her pulse fluttered. Lando soon made his way over, wearing a casual denim jacket and a grin that betrayed a hint of nerves. He paused by the table, his gaze locking onto Y/N’s.

“Evening,” he said softly, eyes gleaming.

She cocked her head, forcing a pleasant smile. “Hey there, Norris. In London again?”

He shrugged with forced nonchalance. “Yeah, had some meetings earlier. Thought I’d stick around for the weekend.” It was a lie. He’d finished his obligations days ago, but no one doubted he’d stayed in town solely for her.

Pietra nudged Y/N with a playful smirk. “Glad you two can finally catch up. We’ve barely seen you in the same place these last few weeks.”

Lando lowered himself next to Y/N on the booth’s bench, the cushion sinking beneath his weight. She could practically feel the heat radiating from him. He smelled fresh and warm, a subtle cologne mixed with something distinctly him. “I’m starving,” he announced to no one in particular, though his attention stayed fixed on Y/N. “Hungry?”

She had eaten earlier, but she smiled coyly. “Might nibble on something if it’s good enough,” she teased.

His gaze flickered over her lips as she said the words. “I’ll make sure it’s good,” he murmured, voice dropping lower.

Goosebumps prickled her skin. She had to look away, heart drumming. If there was one thing Lando excelled at, it was firing her up with a single line of flirtation. She tensed her jaw, determined not to let him see just how much she liked that.

As the night wore on, Max and Pietra chatted about their upcoming travel plans. Lando and Y/N lingered at the edge of the conversation, occasionally joining in, but mostly locked in a subtle battle of words and glances.

At one point, Y/N excused herself to go to the bar, deliberately leaving him behind, half-hoping he’d follow. Sure enough, a moment later, a figure slid in beside her, resting an elbow on the wooden counter.

“You’re really not going to sit next to me all night?” Lando asked, feigning a pout.

She shrugged with a lazy grin. “You seemed too eager. Didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

He let out a soft groan, rubbing the back of his neck. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she teased. “I’m counting on it.”

He placed a hand on her lower back. Not too low, but enough to make her heart jump. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he accused, though the corners of his mouth lifted in admiration.

She pursed her lips. “I might be.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Why do you keep saying no?”

“Because…” She trailed off, letting the unspoken tension fill the gap. She could have easily told him she was afraid or uncertain, but that wasn’t the game she was playing tonight. Instead, she flashed a small, almost innocent smile. “Maybe I just like watching you try.”

His expression tightened, eyes flashing with frustration and something hotter. “Then watch me,” he said. “I’m not quitting.”

She gulped, momentarily stunned by the heated timbre in his voice. A flicker of genuine nerves fluttered inside her because she sensed his patience was wearing thin, replaced by a more urgent desire. For all her playful torment, she couldn’t deny a thrill ran through her at the thought of him finally snapping—that the slow burn might become an inferno that neither of them could control.

They returned to the booth, but an hour later, the small party started to disperse. Max and Pietra had an early morning. With warm hugs and goodbyes, they headed out, leaving Y/N and Lando alone amidst the lounge’s dwindling crowd.

He slid closer, draping one arm along the back of the booth. “So… are you gonna run away now?”

She pretended to check her phone. “It’s getting late. I might call it a night soon.”

He exhaled a barely concealed groan. “You always do this. We hang out with friends, you tease me, and then you leave me high and dry.”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” She batted her eyelashes, an expression of false innocence.

“Barely,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. Then he steeled himself. “What if I said I’m done taking no for an answer?”

Her pulse skittered. She arched an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerously close to an ultimatum, Norris.”

He looked straight into her eyes, unwavering. “I want you. You know it. You’ve known it for months. I’m tired of playing the same game where I lose every time.”

Her stomach twisted with both excitement and the faintest tremor of guilt for having strung him along so long. But her desire to keep him on the edge remained strong. “You sound desperate,” she murmured, leaning forward.

His cheeks flared with color, but he didn’t back down. “I am desperate. Do you have any idea how you’ve been driving me crazy?”

She placed a hand delicately on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thunder beneath her palm. “You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” she quipped, pressing just enough to keep him leaning toward her.

He caught her wrist lightly. “And you’re unbelievably gorgeous when you’re tormenting me.” His gaze darkened as he whispered, “Come home with me. Or let me come home with you. Either way, let’s stop pretending we don’t want this.”

For a moment, she was silent. The tension between them was near stifling. Every inch of her body buzzed with anticipation, and she had to swallow hard to steady her voice.

She trailed her fingers up his neck, pausing to toy with the hairs at his nape. “My place,” she whispered. Her heart pounded at the stunned look that crossed his face. “You coming or not?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

They left the lounge together, the cool air of the London streets a sharp contrast to the heat that had built between them. Neither spoke much on the walk to her flat—a short distance that felt endless in the taut silence. Lando’s hand found hers, and she didn’t pull away this time. In fact, she threaded her fingers through his, sending a jolt of excitement right through them both.

He followed her inside the building, up two flights of stairs to her door. She fumbled with her keys, her nerves betraying her calm façade. Once inside, she discarded her coat, setting it on a rack by the door.

Lando shut the door behind them. No small talk. No polite questions about whether he wanted a drink. The second they were alone, he crossed the space in two strides, cradling her face with both hands and pressing his lips to hers in a long-awaited, bruising kiss.

A whimper escaped her as she leaned into him, arms sliding around his shoulders. Their mouths moved in a frenzy of pent-up hunger. She could feel his desperation in every breath, every gasp. He’d waited so long for even a taste, and now he devoured her lips, tongue stroking against hers as though trying to claim every inch.

She broke away momentarily, panting. “Hungry?” she teased, voice uneven.

“Starving,” he growled, eyes flickering with a mixture of relief and raw need.

Without warning, he scooped her up around the waist, drawing a startled laugh from her. She hooked her legs around his hips as he backed her up against the wall, ignoring her protest that she could walk just fine. His lips returned to hers, trailing hot kisses along her jaw, down her neck.

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?” he breathed against her throat. “You, in my arms, not running away?”

She shivered, tugging at the collar of his jacket. “And do you know how many times I’ve thought about you losing your composure like this?” She let out a shaky exhale as his teeth grazed her skin. “I love seeing you barely holding it together.”

He groaned. “You really do get off on tormenting me, don’t you?”

She only smiled, unrepentant. “Maybe.”

With an exasperated laugh, he carried her deeper into the flat, pushing open a door until they tumbled into her bedroom. He set her down carefully, but kept her pinned against him, lips still fused.

Clothes became an unwanted barrier. They stripped each other down in hurried, desperate movements, fabric hitting the floor carelessly as they pressed closer. His palms roamed her curves, mapping them with reverence and urgency all at once. She marveled at the firm lines of his shoulders, the warmth radiating from his skin.

He nudged her gently onto the bed, following her down in a tangle of limbs. She let out a soft moan when his lips trailed over her collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses that made her toes curl. It was overwhelming, this culmination of half a year’s worth of tease and denial.

His breath hitched as she slipped her fingers through his hair, guiding him up to meet her eyes. “You like to lead me on, but trust me,” he said, voice husky. “Tonight, I’m the one in control.”

She smirked at the newfound edge in his tone. “Prove it.”

That challenge was all he needed. With a low growl, he leaned in, pressing a series of heated, possessive kisses along her throat. “I’m going to make you beg,” he rasped into her ear. “And you won’t be rejecting me this time.”

Her heart stuttered. She’d never seen him this way—intense, almost predatory in the best sense. It ignited a fire in her she hadn’t known existed. “Show me,” she whispered, arching against him.

His hands slid lower, and she gasped at the sensation of his touch, every nerve in her body singing with tension. She tangled her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, fueling the friction that built with every heated breath. The months of frustration erupted into a raw, almost desperate passion, making them both reckless.

Lando’s hands were firm on her hips, his lips trailing down her neck with a slow, deliberate intensity that made her breath hitch. Y/N’s back arched instinctively, her fingers gripping the sheets as he hovered above her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire, but there was a new edge to him—a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.

“You’ve had your fun,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine. “But now it’s my turn.”

Before she could respond, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, cutting off any protest. His tongue swiped against hers, demanding, claiming, and she felt herself melting into him, her body betraying the control she’d so carefully maintained for months. His hands moved to her wrists, pinning them above her head with ease. She let out a soft whimper, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he deepened the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He smirked down at her, his expression a mix of satisfaction and something far more dangerous. “You’ve been teasing me for months, love,” he said, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Do you have any idea what that’s done to me?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with another kiss, this one brief but no less intense. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You don’t get to talk right now. You don’t get to control this. I’m in charge now.”

Her stomach flipped at the command in his tone, a wave of heat pooling low in her core. She nodded, her eyes wide, and he smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Good girl,” he purred, the words sending a jolt of electricity through her.

His grip on her wrists tightened as he leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You’ve driven me wild for months,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now it’s my turn to make you lose control.” His free hand trailed teasingly down her body, fingers skimming over her ribs, her waist, her hips, making her squirm beneath him. “Stay still,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Or I’ll stop.”

She whimpered, her body trembling with restraint as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration. His hand moved back up her side, fingers brushing the underside of her bra. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze locked on hers as his fingers found the clasp. God, he’s doing this with one hand, she thought, her breath hitching as she watched him. How is this so fucking hot?

With practiced ease, he undid the clasp, the material loosening against her skin. He slid the straps down her arms, his eyes never leaving hers, a smirk playing on his lips as the bra fell away, exposing her breasts. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to get my hands on these.” His palm cupped her breast, his fingers fitting perfectly around the soft curve. He squeezed gently at first, then more possessively, his grip firm as his thumb brushed over her nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from her.

He unpinned her wrists, but she didn’t move, as if waiting for permission. He didn’t give her any, too focused on her breasts, his hands now free to explore every inch. He cupped them both, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he squeezed them together, his eyes filled with hunger. “Fuck, baby, they fit perfectly in my hands,” he said, his voice rough. “Like they were made for me to touch.”

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above her skin. “They’re even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his breath hot against her as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. She gasped, her hands finally finding his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he lavished attention on her breasts, alternating between them with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

His mouth was relentless, kissing, licking, and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough. “God, baby, they’re so soft,” he groaned against her skin, his voice trembling with need. “So fucking perfect. I could spend hours right here.” He buried his face between them, his hands still kneading her breasts, squeezing them together as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her skin.

She arched into his touch, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as he worshipped her body. Every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his hands sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, and she couldn’t help but moan his name. “Lando…”

He looked up at her, his lips swollen, his eyes burning with desire. “You’re mine now,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

She nodded, her body trembling with anticipation as he returned to her breasts, his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony to drive her wild. She’d never felt so wanted, so completely claimed, and she loved every second of it.

Lando’s lips left her breasts with one last, lingering kiss, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. But he wasn’t done—not even close. His mouth trailed down her body, leaving a scorching path of kisses along her skin. He kissed the curve of her ribs, the dip of her stomach, each press of his lips deliberate, maddeningly slow. Every inch of her felt like it was on fire, and she could barely keep herself still as he moved lower, his lips brushing the top of her hip bone.

Her breath hitched as he reached the hem of her underwear, his hands skimming over the fabric as if he were memorizing every curve. “So soft,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending shivers through her. He kissed just above the waistband, his breath hot against her skin, and she let out a desperate whimper. “Patience, sweetheart,” he said, smirking up at her. “You made me wait for months. You can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her hips lifting off the bed as if begging for him to touch her where she needed it most. But he didn’t. Instead, his lips moved to her inner thighs, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her legs wider, and she felt exposed, utterly at his mercy. “Look at you,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “So desperate already. What happened to all that teasing confidence, love?”

She could feel the dampness pooling between her legs, her underwear clinging to her in the most embarrassing way. The fabric was soaked, a dark patch spreading across the front, and she knew he could see it, could smell how turned on she was. He kissed her thigh again, his lips brushing so close to where she needed him that she thought she might scream. “Every time you told me no,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, “I pictured this exact moment—how I’d have you writhing, begging for me.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t deny the truth. She was writhing, her hips moving restlessly as he continued his torment. “Lando, please,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers hooking under the waistband of her underwear. “You’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “And I’ve barely even touched you properly. How bad do you need it?” She whimpered in response, and he smirked, slowly sliding the soaked fabric down her legs and tossing it aside.

He spread her thighs wide, his hands firm on her hips as he leaned in to inspect her. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice trembling with awe. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” The evidence of her arousal was impossible to ignore, her pussy glistening, her folds swollen and needy. He kissed her inner thigh again, his lips brushing so close to her clit that she nearly came undone. She gasped, her hips lifting off the bed, but he held her down firmly. “Keep still,” he warned, his voice low and commanding. “Or I’ll stop completely. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She shook her head frantically, her hands gripping the sheets as he leaned in, his tongue finally dragging through her folds in one long, slow lick. She moaned, the sound desperate and broken, and he groaned against her. “You’re clenching around nothing,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You poor thing. Maybe I should just leave you like this.”

“No!” she cried, her voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Lando, I need you.”

He smirked, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Go on, let me hear you.”

She whined, her hips lifting off the bed again, but he pressed her down firmly. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, his grip on her thighs unyielding. “You’re gonna let me see how much you need this.”

And then he dove in, his tongue lapping at her pussy with relentless precision. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as he swirled his tongue around her clit, sucking lightly before pulling back, leaving her trembling on the edge. “Oh, you want to come?” he teased, his voice smug. “After making me wait all this time? Not yet, sweetheart.”

He pinned her hips to the bed, his tongue working her over with slow, maddening strokes. Every time she felt herself close to the edge, he pulled away, leaving her gasping and desperate. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice breaking.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her skin. “Shh, love. No whining. You teased me for eight months—this is only fair.”

And then he returned to her pussy, his tongue flicking over her clit with just the right amount of pressure to drive her wild. She was close, so close, but he pulled away again, leaving her trembling and desperate, utterly at his mercy.

Lando pulled away from her pussy, leaving her trembling and desperate, her body arched off the bed in search of more. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “But you’re not getting off that easy.” He stood, stripping off his boxers in one fluid motion, and her breath caught at the sight of him. His cock was thick, fully erect, and glistening with precum, a testament to how badly he wanted her. She couldn’t help but salivate at the sight, her pussy clenching around nothing, aching for him to fill her.

He climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs. She instinctively tried to close them, her body trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation, but he grabbed her thighs, pinning them apart with a firm grip. “No, baby,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “You don’t get to hide from me anymore. You wanted this. Now take it.”

He aligned himself with her entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against her slick folds, and she whimpered, her hips lifting in a silent plea. But Lando wasn’t rushing. He was going to make this last. He pushed into her slowly, inch by torturous inch, his eyes locked on hers as he stretched her open. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as he filled her, the sensation overwhelming and euphoric all at once. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “Feel that? That’s me, stretching you open, making you mine.”

He bottomed out, his hips flush against hers, and paused, letting her adjust to the sheer size of him. Her pussy fluttered around his cock, gripping him like a vice, and he groaned, his head falling back in ecstasy. “You feel that?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “How you’re wrapped around me? This is where you belong now—taking every fucking inch of me.”

Y/N was already a mess, her hands gripping the sheets as she struggled to stay still. Her body was on fire, every nerve alight with sensation, and she could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as he moved inside her. It was too much and not enough all at once. “Lando, please—please move faster,” she begged, her voice breaking.

But he just smirked, his grip on her thighs tightening. “Oh, no, love. I decide how you take me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He pulled out almost completely, then pushed back in with the same slow, deliberate pace, drawing a desperate whimper from her. “You’re doing this to punish me, aren’t you?” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He laughed, a low rumble in his chest. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “You made me wait for months, love. Now it’s your turn to suffer.” He thrust into her again, deep and slow, his hips rolling in a way that had her toes curling. Her pussy throbbed around him, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through her, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed him to go harder, faster, to give her the release she was hovering on the edge of. “Lando, I swear to god, if you don’t move faster—” she started, but her words were cut off by a moan as he slammed into her again, hitting a spot that made her see stars.

Her pussy was soaking wet, the slickness making every thrust smoother, every movement more intense. For Lando, the sensation was indescribable. Her walls clenched around him like a fist, hot and tight, and every time he pushed into her, he felt like he was losing his mind. She was perfect, perfect, and the way she moaned his name only drove him wild. “You love the way I fill you up, don’t you?” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “Look at you—already so fucking wrecked.”

She nodded frantically, her hips lifting to meet his, but he stopped her, his hands gripping her waist to keep her still. “No, love,” he said, his tone firm. “You stay right there and take it. Don’t move.” She whined, her body trembling beneath him, but she obeyed, her hands gripping the sheets as he continued to fuck her with the same slow, maddening pace. “Stop holding back,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “You’ve wanted this for months, so take me.”

He chuckled, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “Oh, I’m taking you, sweetheart,” he murmured against her mouth. “Every. Single. Inch.” Each word was punctuated by a deep, controlled thrust, and she moaned, her body writhing beneath him. But he kept her still, his hands firm on her hips, his pace unrelenting. “Fuck, Lando,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I’m begging—please, just give it to me.”

He smirked, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “Maybe I will,” he said, his voice teasing. “But not until I’m done with you.” He shifted slightly, angling his hips so that each thrust brushed against her clit, and she cried out, her body trembling on the edge. “That’s it, love,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Let me ruin you properly.”

His cock felt like heaven inside her, stretching her open in the most delicious way, and she could feel every inch of him as he moved, slow and deep, his pace maddeningly controlled. For him, the sensation was almost too much. Her pussy was so tight, so wet, and every time she clenched around him, he felt like he was going to lose it. But he wasn’t going to give in—not yet. He was going to make her suffer, just like she’d made him. “You’re mine now,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

She moaned, her body trembling beneath him, her pussy gripping him tighter with each thrust. She was close, so close, but he wasn’t going to let her come—not yet. He was going to draw this out, make her beg for it, make her feel every second of the torment she’d put him through. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice dark. “Say you love the way I fuck you.”

She hesitated, her eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure crashed over her, but he tightened his grip on her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Say it properly,” he growled, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Or I stop right now.” She whimpered, her body trembling beneath him, and finally, she said it, her voice trembling with need. “I… I love the way you fuck me.”

He smirked, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “Good girl,” he purred, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “Now let me show you how much I’ve wanted this.” And with that, he finally picked up the pace, his thrusts deep and relentless, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She was a mess, her body writhing beneath him, her moans filling the room as he fucked her exactly how he’d promised—deep, slow, and completely in control.

And she loved every second of it.

Lando’s hands moved to her hips, his grip firm and unyielding as he lifted her effortlessly, flipping her in one fluid motion. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself straddling him, his cock still buried deep inside her. Her tits bounced with the sudden movement, and he didn’t miss the opportunity, his hands immediately reaching up to cup them, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he squeezed possessively. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “Now let me see you ride me, but don’t you dare move faster than I let you.”

His hands were like iron, gripping her hips and holding her steady as he thrust up into her, his cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy with maddening precision. She tried to lift herself, to take control of the rhythm, but he held her down firmly, making her take every inch of him at his pace. “No, love,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “You don’t get to set the pace. I do. And I want to take my time with you.”

His fingers dug into her flesh, holding her in place as he fucked up into her, his hips driving with a steady, relentless rhythm. Every thrust made her pussy clench around him, her body trembling with the effort of staying still. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Let me move.” She could feel every inch of his cock inside her, stretching her open, filling her in the most delicious way. The sheer size of him was overwhelming, and she could feel every ridge, every vein as he slid in and out of her. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands holding her down as he thrust into her again, deeper this time, hitting a spot that made her see stars.

“God, you feel so good,” she moaned, her head falling back as he continued to fuck her, his hands gripping her hips, controlling every movement. “Fuckin’ perfect around me,” he growled, his voice rough. “You take me so well, like you were made for me.” She could feel his cock twitching inside her, his control slipping just slightly, the hot, hard length of him pressing against her walls, stretching her in the most exquisite way. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, her pussy clinging to him like a vice, greedy for more. But Lando wasn’t rushing. He was going to make this last. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, and it was driving her mad.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Trying to squirm away. You’re not going anywhere, love.” His hands gripped her tighter, holding her down as his cock plunged deeper into her, every thrust hitting that perfect spot that made her moan his name. Fuck, he’s so big, she thought, her body trembling on top of him. She could feel every inch of him inside her, stretching her, filling her, and she loved it. His cock was thick, hot, and hard, and every time he thrust into her, she felt like she was losing her mind. Her pussy was so wet, so slick, and every movement felt like pure bliss. She could feel the way her walls clenched around him, gripping him tight, and she knew he could feel it too.

“Stay still,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’re going to let me use you exactly how I want.” His hands were like iron, gripping her hips and holding her steady as he thrust up into her, his cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy with maddening precision. She tried to lift herself, to take control of the rhythm, but he held her down firmly, making her take every inch of him at his pace. “No running, no hiding,” he growled, his voice dark and possessive. “You wanted to tease me for months? Now you’re going to feel what that did to me.”

Her pussy was on fire, every nerve in her body alight with sensation as he continued to fuck her, his hands gripping her hips, controlling every movement. She could feel his cock twitching inside her, his control slipping just slightly, the hot, hard length of him pressing against her walls, stretching her in the most exquisite way. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, her pussy clinging to him like a fist, greedy for more. But Lando wasn’t rushing. He was going to make this last. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, and it was driving her mad.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.” His hands gripped her tighter, holding her down as his cock plunged deeper into her, every thrust hitting that perfect spot that made her moan his name. She could feel every inch of him inside her, stretching her, filling her, and she loved it. Her pussy was so wet, so slick, and every movement felt like pure bliss. She could feel the way her walls clenched around him, gripping him tight, and she knew he could feel it too.

“You like this, don’t you?” he teased, his voice smug, the satisfaction evident in his tone. “You like me holding you down, making you take every inch.” He kept his pace steady, his hands holding her in place, not letting her move as he fucked her exactly how he wanted. She was a moaning mess, her hips lifting slightly, trying to meet his thrusts, but he wasn’t giving her an inch. His hands tightened on her hips, holding her down, making her take everything he gave her. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough. “You’re going to take everything I give you, and you’re going to love every fucking second of it.”

“Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling with need. “I need more. Please.” His hands gripped her tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust into her again, deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot that made her cry out. “Beg me properly,” he said, his voice dark. “Show me how much you need it.” She bit her lip, her body trembling beneath him, and finally, she said it, her voice trembling with need. “Please, Lando. Please fuck me harder. I need it. Please.”

"Good girl," he purred, his fingers threading into her hair as he guided her head down, tilting her face down to meet his. Then, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, possessive and deep.

“Now let me show you how much I’ve wanted this.” With a growl, Lando flipped her onto her back again in one fluid motion, his cock still buried deep inside her. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her legs wide as he loomed over her, his eyes blazing with hunger. He didn’t give her a moment to adjust before he started fucking her again—hard, fast, and without mercy. His hips driving into her with a savage rhythm, his cock slamming into her pussy with such force that the bed shook beneath them.

His cock was thick, rigid, and unyielding, every vein pulsing with the sheer intensity of his arousal. It was hot, almost searing, as it stretched her open, the girth of it filling her to the brim. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through her, the friction of his cock sliding in and out of her slick walls making her toes curl. Her pussy was so tight, so wet, and every time he pushed into her, she could feel every inch of him—the way he stretched her, the way he filled her completely, the way he hit that spot deep inside that made her see stars.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “Feel that? That’s me, fucking you just the way I’ve wanted to for months.” His hands moved to her hips, gripping her hard enough to leave marks as he pulled her down onto his cock with every thrust. “You take me so fucking well, love. Like you were made for me.” His words were low and possessive, dripping with a primal need that sent shivers down her spine.

She could feel his cock twitching inside her, the hot, hard length of him pressing against her walls, stretching her in the most exquisite way. Every time he thrust into her, she felt a wave of pleasure crash over her, her pussy clenching around him, desperate for more. “Lando, please,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “I need you. Don’t stop.”

He smirked, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “You think I’d stop now?” he growled, his hips slamming into her with even more force. “Not a fucking chance, love.” His cock was relentless, pumping into her with a rhythm that was both punishing and euphoric. She could feel the way her walls clung to him, gripping him tight, as if begging him never to leave. “You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Her body was on fire, every nerve alight with sensation as he continued to fuck her with a ferocity that left her breathless. She could feel the tension building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. “Lando, I’m close,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please, let me come.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Go ahead, baby,” he whispered, his voice dark and teasing. “Come for me. Let me feel you.” His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing them roughly as he continued to thrust into her, his cock hitting that spot deep inside her that made her see stars.

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her body convulsed as the orgasm ripped through her, her pussy clamping down on his cock as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, her voice trembling with ecstasy as she came apart beneath him.

Lando groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he felt her walls clench around him, milking his cock for every drop. “Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “I can’t hold back anymore.” With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his cock pulsing as he came, filling her with his release. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat of his cum spilling deep inside her, marking her as his.

They came together, their bodies trembling with the force of their orgasms. She could feel every pulse of his cock inside her, the way his cum filled her, the way his body shuddered with pleasure. It was intoxicating, the way they fit together, the way they moved as one. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “That was… fucking incredible.”

She could barely speak, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her pussy felt so full, so satisfied, and she could still feel the way his cock twitched inside her, as if he wasn’t ready to pull away just yet. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice soft and trembling. “That was… I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I told you I’d make you mine,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And I meant it.” He stayed inside her, their bodies still connected, as they caught their breath together. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, the air thick with the scent of their passion. And in that moment, she knew she was his—completely and utterly his.

They lay entangled in the aftermath, the sheets tangled around sweat-slick skin. The room was quiet save for their ragged breathing. After a moment, Lando turned to gaze at her, still looking slightly astonished. “You’re real,” he murmured. “I’ve waited so long to have you here, like this.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her hand resting on his chest. “Didn’t think I’d give in, did you?”

He brushed a thumb over her lower lip. “I hoped you would. No matter how much you pushed me away, I couldn’t imagine stopping.”

She met his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re everything.” His voice was soft, laced with sincerity. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for months. I can’t even remember what it was like not wanting you.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she allowed herself a rare moment of honesty. “You made it hard for me, you know,” she admitted quietly. “Staying away when you’re so… persistent.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, clearly remembering every time she’d laughed off his attempts or walked away. “You’re a damn expert at playing hard to get, though. You had me by the throat. I was basically begging.”

She smirked, eyes gleaming in the low light. “Still are,” she teased gently. “You’ll keep begging for more, right?”

His laugh turned into a low, contented hum. “Oh, definitely. But don’t worry.” He shifted, rolling partly on top of her again, the warmth of his body reminding her just how good it felt. “I’m not letting you slip away this time.”

She didn’t resist as he captured her lips once more. The tension was different now—still electric, but edged with relief. They no longer had to pretend or play a cat-and-mouse game. The slow burn had finally exploded into a full-blown blaze, and there was no going back to careful distance.

Eventually, they drifted into a comfortable silence, bodies exhausted from the release of so many months of pent-up desire. She nestled into the crook of his arm, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Lando, seemingly unable to stop touching her, lazily traced patterns on her arm with his fingertips. Each brush of his skin still sent a small thrill through her, a reminder of what had finally happened between them.

In a half-drowsy state, she heard him murmur, “I can’t believe this is real.”

She let out a soft laugh, pressing her face into his shoulder. “I guess I teased you long enough.”

He sighed contentedly. “Too long,” he teased back, though his tone was affectionate. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

Warmth spread through her at his words. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone, ignoring the tiny voice inside her that warned of complexities and future uncertainties. For now, all that mattered was that the months of dancing around each other had led them here, to a tangled bed in a London flat, hearts still racing from the aftershock of passion.

The game they’d played was over, the final move sealing a mutual surrender. But as she looked up and met his eyes, she realized something else: a new chapter had begun. One where neither of them had to hide their attraction or maintain a careful distance. One where he didn’t have to pine and she didn’t have to tease—unless, of course, they both wanted to for the fun of it.

She gave him a sly smile. “I’m guessing you don’t regret staying in London this weekend.”

His quiet laugh rumbled in his chest. “Not even a little bit.” Then he leaned in, brushing his lips to her ear. “But don’t think I’m done yet. After all these months? We’ve only just started.”

Her breath caught, a new wave of heat coursing through her. “So show me,” she whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. With a wicked grin, he drew her closer, tangling their limbs again under the dim glow of early morning light. Their laughter faded into soft groans and murmured confessions, and everything else—every worry, every reason she’d ever had to say no—melted away.

In that moment, the only thing that mattered was the closeness they’d finally earned, and the thrilling promise that this was just the beginning.

[junojoel]

Method Acting

Joel Miller x fem!Reader, 4.7k

Summary: When you’re forced to pose as a couple to avoid suspicion from a group of survivors, the line between pretending and reality begins to blur.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, afab reader but no other description, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, quiet sex, sorry they're in a tent, fake dating, joel calls reader sweetheart

This is the first ever fic I'm posting please let me know what you think!!

It was a rare, fleeting moment of peace in a world that seldom offered any. The harsh noises of the post-apocalyptic landscape had been silenced for the night—no distant gunshots, no rumbling of infected in the distance. Just the quiet crackle of the fire and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, a rare flicker of warmth in a world that never seemed to offer comfort. It was the kind of night that could make anyone believe there was still some humanity left, even if it was just the tiny spark of a fire shared between a handful of survivors. A small group, huddled together in the remnants of a ruined town. Among them were you and Joel.

Joel had been the one to suggest it, pragmatic as always.

“We’ll need to play the part. Keep ‘em from asking too many questions,” he’d said earlier that day, his tone low, serious. “They won’t mess with us if they think we’re a team.”

The two of you had found a temporary haven among a group of survivors—a small camp on the outskirts of a rundown town. They had been eyeing you both carefully, trying to figure out your story. One thing they didn’t know about you and Joel was that, despite the mutual respect and trust you’d formed over the years, you weren’t exactly a couple.

At least, not in the traditional sense. Not in the way people used to be, back before the world fell apart. Not the way it used to mean. But you had to pretend. That was the deal. The group that had taken you in didn’t know your history, your relationship, if there was one at all. They only saw two people who didn’t quite fit in. So you had to give them a story. And that story, for now, was that you were a couple.

And so you did. You threw in a casual touch here, a shared glance there, enough to make the others believe the story. You’d gotten good at the act over the years, pretending to be things you weren’t for survival’s sake. You sat next to him by the fire, a comfortable distance at first, though the heat of the flames did little to mask the heat from his body beside yours. The others were talking, exchanging stories of places they’d been, and for a while, you allowed yourself to sink into the routine of pretending.

Joel’s hand brushed yours as you reached for your water bottle. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, the world around you felt distant. How easy it was to pretend. How easy it was to let your body slip into the role you had to play.

He caught your eye across the fire, his gaze steady. His hand twitched on his knee, like he was thinking of reaching for you again. And just when you thought he might, the others called out, breaking the moment.

One of the survivors, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, waved at you both. “You got a good thing going, huh? You and your man, always watching each other’s backs.”

You smiled, playing your role well. “Yeah,” you said lightly, “Wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

Joel just nodded, his gaze still locked on you, a faint curl to his lips that you couldn’t quite decipher.

The night wore on, and the fire’s glow faded. The others retreated to their tents, and you and Joel remained seated together, the silence stretching long between you. There was something about the quiet that felt too intimate now, something about the space between you that felt too charged. And yet, neither of you moved.

You stared into the fire, your mind racing. What was happening? Was it just the act? Or was there something else?

“Ready to turn in?” Joel’s voice broke through the fog of your thoughts.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. I’m just… not used to all the quiet.”

Joel gave you a half-smile as he stood, holding out his hand to help you up. You took it without thinking, your fingers brushing his a little longer than you meant to. And this time, neither of you pulled away.

The small tent you shared was cramped, the air thick with the scent of damp canvas. You crawled inside, Joel right behind you, and you both settled onto your separate corners. But even as you lay there, trying to will yourself to sleep, the pull between you remained, undeniable.

A new group of survivors showed up at the camp a couple of days later, and the charade continued. But the pretenses were starting to wear thin. What was supposed to be a simple act to keep the others at bay had slowly begun to feel too real.

You found yourself looking for Joel in the crowd, seeking out his touch, his gaze, and you hated how easy it was to fall into this. How easy it was to want him when all of this was just an act. He noticed, too. His touches were more frequent now, more purposeful. Every time he brushed against you, your pulse quickened. Every time his hand lingered too long on your shoulder or your arm, your thoughts tangled with confusion.

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, you sat by the fire, a log resting between you. The others were busy with their own conversations, but there was a quiet understanding between you and Joel. The line was beginning to blur, and neither of you seemed to know how to stop it.

Joel turned to you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach betrayed you. “Yeah… just thinking.”

Joel’s thumb brushed your wrist, the simple touch sending a wave of heat through your body. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what you were feeling. “I don’t know. About all this. About pretending.”

Joel didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slid up your arm, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “It ain’t easy, is it?”

“No,” you admitted, the truth hanging in the air between you. “I think I’m starting to forget what’s real.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something you couldn’t deny.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore, either,” he said quietly. “But maybe… maybe that’s okay.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe it wasn’t okay. Maybe you were playing with fire, and it was only a matter of time before you got burned.

That night, as you lay in the dark, the tent’s shadows dancing on the walls, you could feel the weight of his presence next to you. The sound of his breath was steady, but there was a tension there, too. A heaviness that neither of you seemed able to shake.

You rolled over, facing him, your body just inches from his. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the rise and fall of his chest as he slept—or as he tried to sleep. There was something magnetic about him tonight, something that drew you in.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hand grazing his. He stiffened at the touch, but didn’t pull away. In fact, his hand curled around yours, the warmth of his skin seeping into you. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you both just lay there, hand in hand.

His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, and the feeling of it sent shivers down your spine. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Joel whispered, his voice rough with something you couldn’t place.

“Neither do I,” you whispered back. Your fingers tightened around his, and it felt like the world outside didn’t exist anymore.

You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. Slowly, you shifted closer, your faces just inches apart. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his lips met yours.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss at first. It was tentative, hesitant, like you were both unsure if it was real. But then something in both of you shifted, and the kiss deepened, the tension that had been building between you both finally breaking.

It was no longer pretend. It couldn’t be.

The days after that kiss had felt like walking a tightrope, each step carefully placed, as if a single misstep could send you falling into a world of complications. The air between you and Joel had shifted; the weight of the unspoken words between you was heavier than the tension between the survivors who had become part of your temporary community.

You told yourself it was just the aftermath of an emotional night, the residue of an act that had gotten a little too real. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. It was something more. Something neither of you wanted to admit.

Joel was acting like nothing had changed. But you could see it in the small moments. The way his hand lingered at the small of your back when he passed by, or how he’d glance at you more often than usual. It wasn’t the casual look of someone playing a role anymore—it was different. It was… intense. And you felt it too.

You tried to bury it. You focused on the tasks at hand—preparing food, keeping watch for infected, helping reinforce the camp’s perimeter. But every time you found yourself in Joel’s orbit, the world seemed to slow, the edges of your thoughts fraying as your body seemed to tune in to his presence. You couldn't ignore it. You didn’t want to ignore it.

That night, after another long day of moving supplies and building makeshift shelters, the group settled around the campfire, trying to make the most of the brief respite they had found. You sat beside Joel again, both of you staring into the fire, the dancing flames reflecting off his worn face. The others were busy talking, but you couldn’t focus on them. All you could focus on was the quiet proximity between you and Joel.

“Lookin’ distant,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, the way it always was. “What’s on your mind?”

You shrugged, unsure of how to answer. “Just… thinking about everything, I guess.”

Joel didn’t press you for more. Instead, his hand found its way to yours, a simple, unremarkable gesture. But when his fingers brushed over yours, it was anything but simple. The touch sent a shock through you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“You’ve been distant for a while,” he said, his thumb tracing a slow pattern on the back of your hand. It was strange—he was usually the quiet, brooding type, not one to pry into someone’s emotions. But tonight, something in him had changed. Something about this moment felt too important to let pass unnoticed.

“I’m just… I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“Figure what out?” He raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated. How could you explain to him what was happening inside your head? How could you put words to the feelings that had started to shift between you both? You could see it now—he was no longer just your partner in survival, he was becoming something else. Something that, in this broken world, felt terrifying and beautiful all at once.

But before you could answer, one of the others stood, breaking the moment. “We should get some rest.”

The words were innocuous, but they served to break the connection, the fragile thread that had bound you both. You didn’t want to let it go, but there was no avoiding it. With a forced smile, you let go of his hand.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said, standing up and heading toward the tent.

As you lay there, the quiet of the night pressed against your skin. Joel was beside you again, the steady rhythm of his breathing a reminder that he was close, that he was real. You didn’t want to think about the kiss, or the way he looked at you when no one else was around. But it was impossible not to. His presence next to you became a constant hum in your chest, a reminder that the line between what was pretend and what was real had long since blurred. You shifted, trying to ignore the way your body responded to the proximity, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop the way your body seemed to gravitate toward him, like it had always known where it belonged.

“Joel,” you whispered in the darkness. His name felt foreign on your tongue, yet so right. “Do you ever wonder what comes next?”

His voice was low when he answered, almost as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile peace between you. “Every damn day.”

You turned toward him in the darkness, your face inches from his, the outline of his features barely visible in the dim light. His breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, everything else in the world faded away. There were no infected, no survivors, no constant fight for survival. There was only Joel, only this moment that you could hardly understand but knew you couldn’t walk away from.

He didn’t move away. Instead, his hand found yours again in the dark, the same comforting weight as before. But this time, it felt different. It felt like it meant something more.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. You didn’t know why you were saying it—didn’t know what you expected to happen after these words—but they had been hanging in the air between you for too long.

Joel didn’t respond at first. For a long moment, you thought he might pull away, that he might dismiss you, act like it was all part of the game you were playing. But when he spoke, his words were soft, thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Neither do I.”

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in, his lips pressing gently against yours. It was slow, tentative at first, as if you both were trying to figure out where you stood in this uncharted territory. But as the kiss deepened, there was nothing tentative about it anymore. It was raw, desperate, and the weight of it threatened to consume you both.

When you finally broke away, you were both breathless, your heart racing in your chest.

“What happens now?” you asked, your voice shaky with uncertainty.

Joel’s fingers tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours. “I don’t know, but I’ll be here. With you. Whatever comes next.”

The words didn’t make it all better, didn’t provide any clear answers. But in that moment, it was enough. The world outside the tent didn’t matter anymore. There were no rules left to follow, no lines left to cross. Just you and Joel, tangled in the warmth of the night.

The world had become a patchwork of moments—each one filled with uncertainty, each one a struggle to survive. Yet somehow, when you were near Joel, the world felt a little more manageable. It wasn’t about the campfires or the fleeting moments of peace between battles with the infected; it was about the quiet intimacy that had grown between you both. The touches that began as pretence had become something deeper, something more powerful. And you couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Cold?” Joel’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him standing next to you, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense.

“A little,” you admitted, but you didn’t make any move to get up. You liked the way the firelight danced across his face, highlighting the angles of his jaw, the quiet strength that radiated from him. There was something magnetic about him—something you couldn’t pull away from.

Joel hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body. The silence between you both felt familiar now, comfortable, but there was an edge to it. You could feel the tension building between you—unspoken, but undeniable.

Without saying a word, Joel reached forward, grabbing a spare blanket from the pile beside you, and wrapped it around your shoulders. The simple gesture was intimate, his hands brushing against your skin as he pulled it tighter around you. The warmth of the blanket mixed with the warmth of his touch, and it felt like more than just an act of kindness. His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer than necessary, a soft pulse of heat spreading through you where his hand had rested.

“Thanks,” you whispered, but your voice was thick with something you couldn’t quite name. You weren’t sure if you were thanking him for the blanket, or for the way his touch made your heart race.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than usual, his gaze dark and searching. The fire crackled between you both, casting shadows that seemed to make everything feel even more intimate.

And then, without warning, Joel’s hand found yours. It was a slow, deliberate movement, his fingers sliding between yours in a way that felt more like an invitation than a gesture. His thumb traced the back of your hand in the way he’d done countless times before, but this time it felt different.

“Joel…” you murmured, but your voice faltered as he looked at you. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable, but the warmth in his touch spoke volumes.

“You’re not the only one who’s confused,” he said quietly, his thumb still grazing the skin of your hand. There was a rawness in his voice that you hadn’t expected, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t know what to say to that. The truth was, you didn’t need words. You both knew what was happening. The line between what was real and what was an act had already been crossed. You had crossed it together, without even realizing it.

Joel’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you a little closer, just enough to make your breath catch. His body shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. The closeness felt like an unspoken promise, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

Without thinking, you turned your head slightly, your lips brushing against his cheek in a soft, hesitant kiss. The warmth of his skin, the faint stubble on his jaw, all of it made your pulse race. It was only a fleeting touch, but it sent a shockwave through your body.

But before either of you could speak, Joel’s hand cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheek in a way that made your heart flip in your chest. It wasn’t an act anymore. Not the way it had been in the beginning. The touches, the proximity, it was all too real. Too raw.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Joel closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was far more urgent than the one before. His hands moved to your back, pulling you into his chest, his body heat enveloping you completely. You could feel his heart racing, just like yours, the frantic thrum of two people caught in something neither of you knew how to control. His lips were hot against yours, demanding, but not in a way that made you want to pull away. It felt like a slow burn, a fire that was catching, and neither of you had the strength to put it out.

The kiss broke for a moment, both of you gasping for air, your foreheads still pressed together, both of you breathing heavily. Joel’s hands were still on you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin as if memorizing every inch of you.

“I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d want this,” you whispered, your voice still shaky from the kiss. It was the truth, even though you didn’t know what to do with it.

Joel’s hands drifted down to your waist, his fingers gently pressing against your sides, his touch careful but no less intense. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he just looked at you, his eyes searching, as though trying to figure out if you were really here, if this moment was real.

“You don’t have to want it,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing the curve of your waist. “I just… I want you to be sure. Because once we start, we can’t go back.”

His words hung in the air between you like a promise, or maybe a warning. But you didn’t care. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sure, Joel.”

And that was all it took. His lips were on yours again, more urgent now, more desperate, like he couldn’t get enough. His hands pulled you closer, his body flush against yours, and you could feel the tension in him as he guided you back to the tent, laying you gently on the ground.

Joel’s hands were on your waist, tugging at your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. His fingers traced the straps, teasing the sensitive skin beneath before unclasping it and letting it fall to the ground.

You reached for the buttons on his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the fabric as you tried to undo them. Joel helped, his fingers brushing against yours as he undid the last few buttons and shrugged out of his shirt. His chest was bare, his muscles rippling in the firelight. You couldn’t help but stare, your breath hitching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. You reached down, your fingers fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, pulling it down and reaching inside. Joel hissed in a breath as your fingers wrapped around him, stroking him gently.

He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as you stroked him. His fingers teased your nipples, making you gasp with pleasure. You broke the kiss, your head falling back as Joel’s mouth moved down your neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He knelt in front of you, his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer. You knew what he wanted, and you were more than happy to give it to him. You reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair as you guided his head between your legs. Carefully, he unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them off.

Joel looked up at you for a moment, holding your gaze. His pupils were blown, looking wrecked despite hardly being touched. Then, he smiled. Joel’s tongue darted out, teasing your clit through the fabric of your underwear. You gasped, your hips bucking forward as he continued to tease you.

"Joel…" You began to beg, but he quickly cut you off with a hand over your mouth.

"Quiet now," Joel whispered in your ear, as soft as it was teasing. "Wouldn't want anyone interrupting. Waited too long for this, sweetheart."

Joel pulled your underwear aside and his mouth was on you, hot and insistent. He licked you slowly at first, savouring your taste, the flat of his tongue dragging over your clit before he wrapped his lips around it. You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out, pleasure sparking through you like wildfire. His fingers slipped inside you, moving in time with his mouth as he built you higher and higher.

You were trembling, your thighs quivering against his cheeks, everything in you coiled tight and ready to snap. You tugged harder at his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer when he added another finger and curled them deep inside you.

That was all it took to send you over the edge. Your vision went white, your body arching off the ground as you came hard against him. Joel didn’t stop; he rode out every wave with you until you were panting beneath him, spent.

Eyes dark and satisfied, he pulled back, lips glistening, looking smug with satisfaction. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was crawling over you, kissing his way up your body. His mouth met yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you desperately.

His hands were on your thighs, lifting them around his waist as he pressed against your entrance. You could feel him there, hard and insistent, and you moaned into his mouth, urging him on.

“Been wanting this for so damn long,” he breathed against your lips, his voice rough with need.

"Joel," you whispered. "Want you."

He didn’t make you wait. Slowly, achingly slow, he pushed inside of you. You gasped at the stretch of him as he filled you completely, every inch sending a new wave of pleasure through you.

He moved carefully at first, letting you adjust to the size of him, but soon the urgency took over and he began to thrust harder, deeper. The pace was relentless, each push and pull driving you closer to a second climax. Your moans were muffled against his shoulder, your nails biting into his back as he took you higher and higher. He pressed a hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing circles until you shattered around him, even harder than before.

Your body clenched tight, dragging him with you. You cried out his name, the sound breaking and breathless as Joel came inside you, filling you. You felt every pulse of him, every shuddering thrust as he buried himself deep and you both broke apart together.

He collapsed against you, sweating and panting as he tried to catch his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he slowly softened inside of you. The night was quiet around you, just the crackle of the fire outside and the sound of your breathing.

Joel stayed like that for a moment before shifting to lay at your side, pulling you into his arms. His skin was warm against yours, his heart still beating fast as he held you close. You didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was a sense of peace in the silence between you, a feeling of finally belonging. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. His fingers traced circles on your back, lazy and content. You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift in the warmth and safety of him.

Eventually, Joel shifted and reached for a blanket, pulling it around both of you. You snuggled closer, feeling his breath against your hair as he spoke softly.

“Was it worth the wait?” His voice was teasing but there was a touch of genuine curiosity.

You smiled against his skin. “Definitely.”

He hummed, satisfied, and kissed the top of your head. The fire flickered low outside the tent, shadows dancing over the canvas as sleep crept in around the edges.

Before you slipped under completely, you heard Joel murmur one last thing:

“Gonna want more in the morning."

You chuckled, the sound more of a soft exhale as you nuzzled into him. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

And you weren’t. Not now. You lay there wrapped in Joel, feeling blissfully untethered from everything but this moment, the night stretching around you like a deep sigh of relief.

When morning came, it was the pale light streaming through the tent that woke you. You blinked, disoriented for a second before remembering where you were and who you were with. Joel was still asleep beside you, his arm heavy across your waist, his face peaceful in the early dawn.

Gently, so as not to wake him, you slipped out from under his arm and reached for your clothes. The air was cool on your bare skin, and you shivered a little as you dressed. You smiled down at Joel’s sleeping form, resisting the urge to climb back under the blanket with him.

[amoressb]

───── STRAWBERRY KISSES 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ how even the simplest things like a bowl of strawberries can hold the sweetest memories ｡｡ idolbf!riki x reader .

FLUFF & wc. 1000 + ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki sat at the end of the table, lazily twirling a bright red strawberry between his fingers. the rest of enhypen was gathered around him, their usual chaotic energy filling the room as the livestream continued. comments flooded the chat, hearts fluttering across the screen like confetti as fans eagerly interacted with their favorite idols.

the group had been live for almost an hour, answering questions, playing games, and teasing each other as they always did. but lately, the fans had noticed something peculiar…riki seemed distracted. he wasn’t as hyper as usual, his usual playful antics subdued as he occasionally glanced down at the bowl of strawberries sitting in front of him.

“riki, you good?” jungwon asked, nudging him with his elbow. “you’ve been staring at that strawberry for like five minutes.”

riki blinked, realizing he’d been spacing out. he let out a soft chuckle, adjusting his posture. “yeah, i’m fine,” he mumbled, rolling the strawberry between his fingers again.

the fans, sharp as ever, picked up on it immediately. the comments exploded :

“why does ni-ki look so lovestruck?”

“he’s thinking about something…or someone.”

“wait, does this have to do with strawberries???”

jay, ever the instigator, leaned in with a smirk. “let me guess, someone special likes strawberries?” rikis lips twitched, betraying a smile before he could stop it. the rest of the members erupted into knowing laughter.

“oh, he’s done for,” heeseung laughed, pointing at him. “riki, man, you’re too obvious.” riki shook his head but didn’t deny it. instead, he finally lifted the strawberry to his lips, taking a slow bite as the chat exploded with emojis and frantic guesses.

sunghoon, raising an eyebrow, decided to push further. “so, are you saying you only eat strawberries now because of her?” the room quieted for a second, then riki, still chewing, shrugged and casually said, “maybe.” the members lost it.

“CONFIRMED!” jake shouted, pointing at the camera. “he’s whipped!”

“riki, this is a public livestream!” jungwon stifled a laugh, burying his face in his hands. “think of your image!”

riki only laughed, feeling warmth creep up his neck. he wasn’t usually this open about your relationship, but something about today made him feel bold. maybe it was because he missed you.

the chat continued to spiral into chaos :

“is he talking about his girlfriend??”

“ni-ki is literally in love and we are witnessing it live.”

“THE WAY HE’S SMILING SOMEONE HELP.”

sunoo, ever the curious one, decided to dig even deeper. “so, how did this strawberry obsession start, huh?” riki glanced down at the half eaten strawberry in his hand, thinking back to the moment everything changed.

“it’s because of her,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “she loves strawberries. always eats them, always tries to make me eat them. at first, i didn’t really care, but…” he trailed off, his lips curving into the kind of smile that made his members groan in secondhand embarrassment.

“but what?” jay prodded. riki looked straight into the camera, his dark eyes gleaming. “but she said they taste better when they’re shared.”

the members erupted in dramatic shrieks, some clutching their chests like they’d been physically wounded. “ENOUGH.” jake dramatically stood up, pointing at riki. “take him off the livestream. he’s too far gone.”

heeseung pretended to wipe away tears. “our riki…he’s in love.”

“gross,” sunghoon muttered, but he was grinning.

riki just shook his head, amused by their antics. then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated beside him. he glanced down and sure enough, there was a message from you.

“caught you talking about me, didn’t i? i’ll bring strawberries later, be ready.”

his heart did that stupid fluttering thing again. trying to act casual, he set his phone down and returned his attention to the camera. but anyone paying close attention, especially you, would notice the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“i’ll be waiting,” he murmured before popping another strawberry into his mouth. the chat went absolutely wild.

———————

the dorm was quieter now. after ending the livestream, the members had all gone their separate ways. some showering, some playing games, some already asleep.

riki, however, was waiting. finally, there was a knock at the door. he didn’t even hesitate before opening it and there you stood, a small bag in one hand and a mischievous smile on your lips. “delivery for mr.strawberry lover.”

riki scoffed, but his grin was impossible to hide. “you saw the livestream, didn’t you?”

“oh, i did.” you held up the bag, rustling it lightly. “and as promised, i brought strawberries.”

he stepped aside to let you in, watching as you plopped down onto his bed, pulling out the container of fresh strawberries. you grabbed one, holding it up to his lips. “since they taste better when shared, right?”

rikis lips twitched as he leaned forward, taking a slow bite. the sweetness bursted on his tongue, but all he could focus on was the way you were looking at him.

“you’re really making me soft,” he mumbled, swallowing. you grinned, “i know.” rolling his eyes, he grabbed a strawberry and held it up to your lips in return. you took a bite, chewing happily as riki watched you with an amused smile.

then, out of nowhere, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. you blinked. “what was that for?” riki shrugged, biting into another strawberry. “you had juice on your face.”

“uh huh,” you said, unconvinced. but before you could tease him, he kissed your other cheek, then your nose, then your forehead.

“riki,” you giggled, lightly pushing his chest. “what are you doing?”

he only grinned, swallowing the last bit of strawberry before his eyes darkened playfully. “making sure you know that strawberries taste better like this.” and then, before you could react, he kissed you on the lips.

it was soft at first, sweet, just like the fruit still lingering on his tongue. but then, as your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, he deepened the kiss slightly, letting himself savor the moment.

when he pulled back, you were smiling. “okay, i’ll admit. that might be the best way to eat strawberries.” riki chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “told you.”

and with that, he popped another strawberry into his mouth. this time, not because of the fruit itself, but because it reminded him of you.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz @hyukabean

[kooyabooya]

INSIGHT

gaeul x m reader

17k words

It’s not much to unpack: the findings or purpose one pursues. You know this. Everybody’s different, and that’s not limited to the sex - it also accounts for the experiences and connections you make with someone, exploring the limitless possibilities of what or who you want in your life. You’ve been told that the ‘one’ might be out there and have yet to realize it. No one could ever really pin it down to one reason. 

But what’s there to overreact about? You’re a hopeless romantic. 

Okay. To backtrack on the hopeless romantic thing, that’s not entirely true; you’re on the eve of something big here, and the intuition is approaching that conclusion by the second. 

None of this should be that easy from the get-go. Delving into casual conversation to the nice meals and then the eventual ditziness finds you and her on the bed of fucking each other’s brains out until one of you is practically paralyzed from the waist down. That’s the essential beauty of it, right? The hints and signals are right in front of your face; all it takes is a simple notice of interest that can lead anyone to think if they feel the same way. 

You’re not entirely sure, but taking this date with a grain of salt was the best course of action to follow. Besides, it’s too early to delude yourself into thinking about a future with Gaeul. 

(Though, it’s worth noting: 

She never coined it to be a date; said that it was too direct on the nose. In all fairness, you just needed a plus one to tag along with you. It could’ve been anybody else, but Gaeul was the first person to come to mind. You and her have similar interests - a point of connection strong enough to expand on. She didn’t mind keeping you company, and the fact that she was willing to circles your mind far longer than it should’ve.) 

Which brings you to here: standing in front of a timely art piece that looks to be dated from the 1600s. Or- at least that’s what the plaque says on the bottom left corner of the frame. However, you also feel like the people in the room with you are also playing their role like they do in those typical romance movies or serial dramas. You also begin to wonder if people go to an art museum in their free time just to look at fine pieces curated by people who have an obsession for old pictures or to dress up to match the aesthetic and pretend that they know what the hell they’re talking about. 

Given how you’ve dressed up for the occasion, they’d probably be right.

Gaeul herself matches the look so well. Her stilettos are one thing, but the bright-colored skirt along with her high socks are doing wonders for highlighting her legs, with her old-fashioned pink top that looks to be from the Victorian era simply bolsters the elegance past your personal rating scale. She’s also got her slightly-thick-rimmed glasses and the low braided ponytail wrapped in a small bow at the end. You can’t deny it, she’s gorgeous. The kind of girl that’s hard to come by and you’ve struck yourself out of the ballpark by getting her here. She walks at a pace, her strut consistent and punctuated with the way her feet are carrying her. It doesn’t help with the fact that you keep thinking about how you’d hold her hanging ponytail when her head is between your legs, or how she’d let you take off her socks with solely your teeth and show that you do more than just run your mouth. You stand behind her by a few inches and just watch that amazing side profile of hers, molded and chiseled by God himself. 

Her eyes stay fixed on the piece in front of her. Blinking. Examining. You resist the urge to stand behind her and bury your nose in the back of her head. 

You look away for a second only to hear her sigh, and watch as her arms cross over her middle. The stance alone can tell you that she’s the kind of girl that will do damage to you whether you like it or not. 

“I don’t know,” says Gaeul, looking left to notice you approach her left side, pointing her lips back to the art piece as you give it a fraction of your attention - staring at Gaeul with the corner of your eyes, thinking of all the ideas your hands could have on her pretty face, her small hands, lifting her by the waist when she hugs you. “This isn’t the actual ‘Starry Night’ painting, is it?” 

You laugh, because the question itself was supposed to be rhetorical. “No, it is. Not a replica. The real thing.” 

“No, but look,” Gaeul slips her hand around your arm and pulls you closer while she points out to the painting again with her finger. You’ve had crushes on girls throughout high school and college, but there’s a sense of a pull here that’s different from the rest. “This is something that you would do, hm?” 

You lean more closely at the painting and feel her face rest along the line of your upper arm. The picture itself was a mix of these yellow circles over a blue canvas - you think - has to do something about admiring the view that nature presents, which explains the artist’s approach with the usage of the abnormal brushstrokes. “Right.” You get the underlying appeal of the painting’s message, that’s for sure. 

Gaeul giggles, humming a sound too elegant and pretty for its own sake. You’re playing it cool as best you can. It’s a lot to keep track of her sparkling eyes so full of you within them that you’re nervous to even speak a coherent sentence. She looks dangerously good in her outfit: hugging the curves, the collars and ends of her sleeves dancing in these wavy, coquettish lines. That hint of lace she’s wearing is also cute - only for it to be outshined by her exposed collarbones and neck. 

(So, you might be insane here. Try acting differently about it all you want. It’s no use.)

Gaeul then looks at the art piece adjacent to the right - twists her head behind, eyeing the walkway, her gaze now matching yours, cocking her head to the side with her lips pursed. 

“Hmm?” she hums, innocently. There’s a minute tug at the corners of her mouth, a small smile. Her teeth start to peek under her upper lip. 

You’re holding your breath here for a second or two longer. 

“Uh, I didn’t say anything,” you tell her, pulling your lips inward to hide your returning smirk. 

Before you and her move to the next room, you’ve deduced that a woman like Gaeul is no mere anomaly. She is intangible, quixotic, reserved, sensible, and the kind of person who doesn’t let anyone get too close for her comfort. There’s a motivation to be seen with her, the way that her grin and shrug of her singular shoulder gives you the implication that she’s into you. Your gaze goes inquisitive when she’s sashaying timidly further and further away from your sight. 

–

Let’s take a step back here - go to the drawing board, make a new page. There’s substantial progress here. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to have your input solicited. 

Gaeul looks through her handbag, pulls out various items, puts on hand cream and retouches the makeup on her face. You’re on the other end of the table, watching her, listening to the guy nearby do a fantastic take of Take Five on the saxophone with flying colors. Gaeul’s also waving her head from side to side, closing her eyes with a soft smile spread across her lips implying that she likes the music. 

As for the art museum trip itself, you don’t take anything away from what you were supposed to look at and write down - probably because the focus shifted from taking notes to getting a conversation going with Gaeul whenever she was curious about a certain piece or at least your interpretation of what work itself. One of the other pieces that you and her take notice of was from your courses that you don’t remember learning a mere inkling about. A piece from the romanticism era revolved around these two lovers, one of them being madly in love while the other is still trying to figure out their feelings and desires, or vice versa; it may be unappealing for your outlook in artistry, but once you saw the meaning behind the paintbrush and use of strokes, the feeling hits too close to home. 

“From this artwork, what do you want us to take away from it,” someone probably asked back then - the same kind of question that earns a few eye rolls and those heavy sighs used to hide the bubbling frustration within, gets a good number of people scratching the back of their head - though nobody answers it right away unless it’s the professor. 

“Well, that’s not for me to decide,” the professor answers, earning a subtle nod of the head by her, the way the shade of her hair shimmers in the room and how it flows at the turn of her head, glimpses of her skin for you to admire once she has nothing left to say, almost like she was speaking those words to you - waiting for your answer. “The personal interpretation of the painting has to be discovered on your own.” 

In a way, he has a valid point. He’s knowledgeable enough to know what he preaches. He’s passionate about this course alone and it really could take a simple business pitch with a pen to get on board with what he’s selling. 

You have an idea of what message he’s trying to get across, but maybe you’ve got it all mixed up in between still. 

–

The groove of discovery isn’t a straightforward, linear path. Some days your understanding is there, and other times it’s all up in the air; you’re stopping by a food truck near some plaza in the early hours of the evening off the gut feeling that it just feels right; you also find yourself staring at her wide eyes when she gets the first taste of those potato chips she convinced you to buy, wiping a corner of her lips with her tongue. 

It’s almost too good to be true, honestly, that she’s sitting next to you at a park bench as the sky above is painted in these hues of purple and orange to reflect off the sunset, her appearance mimicking royalty and you - her knight in shining armor. She looks up to the sky before offering you her bag of chips, the tilt of her head and how she blinks is so - unbelievably enchanting like she’s unintentionally guilt-tripping you even though you’ve done nothing wrong at all. You take up on her offer, keep a mental note of how she’s so attentive in the way that your hands move and the way that your lips punctuate each letter and phrase so eloquently. Her bottom lip is pulled back into her mouth, holding the foil in her fingers so delicately. 

You can easily tell. She’s enamored; she keeps hitting your arm lightly and plays along with your inside jokes; there’s also that smirk she does in embarrassment and tries to hide away from but you’re still staring at her anyway. 

She stays close to you. Comfortable. Exactly the way you want her to be. You could kiss here right and now and she might be okay with it. You’ll try it eventually, because why not? 

Later, Gaeul walks slightly ahead of you, turns around, and takes your hands in hers, standing on her tiptoes to somewhat match your height. “I’m curious about your eyes, how they look,” she says, not that she meant for it to be embarrassing, but something that she’s noticed the first time and now she can’t ignore it. “They’re enchanting.” 

“Your smile,” you say back. She flashes that exact smile, wearing it with pride. “I like when you smile that way.” 

“My smile is always like this.” 

You sweep her off her feet and twirl yourself around. A finger pulls some of her hair behind her ear, grazing a thumb across her temple, careful enough to not ruin the surface. 

Gaeul looks up. Her head leans into the touch of your hand, inviting. 

This is where it all starts; a genesis of sorts: you drink in the sight of how she is right now, half-lidded eyes, her hands slipping behind to the back of your neck, pulling you in; you, leaning into her body, hands sliding and dipping to the curves where she wants you to hold, keep her in your grasp and unravel her bit by bit; it’s fine to be skeptical, figuring out something new is all part of the learning process. 

You turn your imagination into a reality when you finally kiss her. 

The pull of her into you elicits this gentle hum rumbling within her lips. Given how her fingertips were clawing into your scalp for a second there, she didn’t even put up a fight to begin with. 

The realization of losing her also sets in for a quick moment, the silence alone holding out for longer than it initially should. She continues to blink, teeth capturing the upper profile of her lip just slightly. You might be a bit too forward, but you’re waiting to see what she thinks before you consider dialing it back. 

“That’s not fair-” she stutters, tongue to the inside of her cheek, laughing and then tapping your shoulder soon after. “Normally, I- I’d hold out until we got a little farther with how things are currently.” You also notice that she’s not opting to be let go from your touch, or give you this look of confusion with wide-open eyes or a hand covering her mouth. Her fingertip traces along her lips, internalizing what had just happened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been wanting to do that since the second you saw me earlier. ‘Cause if you were, then I’m in really deeper shit than I expected.” 

“Might be right,” you mumble. “Sorry, I’m not the kind of person to half-ass things. Not my style.” 

“Troublesome,” Gaeul whispers across your lips. You steal a kiss from her again, and this time she gives you a shocked expression. “Hey, again-” 

You’re laughing, rightfully so. She’s pulled into your arms as you spin her around - hearing her laugh also when she’s cradling your head, bringing her back down to earth only for her to kiss you the next second, with more force and tongue. She doesn’t stop there. She keeps on kissing, prompting you to give a fair fight. It’s free reign for her - first, the cheek, then the line of your jaw, and the spot where your chin and neck meet that sends your mind reeling. 

Gaeul then takes one more kiss before the bus makes its eventual stop, pulling you by the wrist to get inside and take one of the seats at the end of the car, away from whoever might take notice. From there she picks up where she left off; her legs are swung over yours, her fingers keep your head in place as she’s placing these sweaty kisses all over your face once more, causing you to rope her in and slide a hand underneath her shirt to her chest. 

“Putting the effort where it counts, huh?” she says when you shift her hips closer to yours. Her giggles are also so pretty that it matches the hot blush colored across her face. 

You look over to the rest of the bus, take into account that there was one other person on the opposite end towards the front with their back turned. “Did you have any other place in mind where you want me to do this?” 

“No,” Gaeul responds with an absorbed smirk. “Not at all, I like what you’re doing so far,” she’s telling you, upholding with a press of her forehead against yours. “It’s riling me up a bit, actually.” 

“Oh? That so?” 

Gaeul nods, leaning in for a much softer peck this time, wiping a wisp of your hair. “Don’t be shy, keep going.” 

You blink twice at the surprising request, figuring out how to handle this situation - let alone what to say or even do at this point. All of that doesn’t matter when all she wants is you. One second later you’re kissing her again - with much more force through every passing press of your lips until the only thing that she can manage is to tilt her chin up and keep on receiving. Two more pecks couldn’t hurt, and she’s giggling when her hand’s patting your chin, kissing her palm to return the favor. 

“How am I doing now?” You ask her again, pressing another kiss to her neck right where the pulse courses rapidly underneath. 

Gaeul’s breaths here are dragged out and unshackled; you’re already thinking ahead of what she’ll sound like when she’s reduced to a moaning mess asking for more. She’s on track there but it’ll take a little bit. She nods - and holds your head at bay, “Okay.” That first response is controlled, feeling out the situation. “Okay,” she repeats, her teeth are peeking out across that pretty little mouth of hers. The hum in her throat drops an octave: “you’re doing really good.” 

Like you needed any other form of implication; the way that she’s playfully scratching your scalp, eagerly leaning for another kiss, this is good stuff you’re doing. Stay in the pocket with her, and continue doing those same things. 

You have to hear that sound from her again. No. You need to hear that sound come out of that sweet mouth, as you slide your hand between her closed legs - pull her closer, closer - and get her within your reach once your palm slips beneath her skirt, feel the sudden hook of her arms around your neck keep her in place. She presses her legs together, trying to maintain the heat in her panties once your fingertips get their first touches. Gaeul hums into your lips, encouraging you, and gives the go-ahead as she opens the space wider in the middle of her thighs for you to capture - her body much rucked up against yours, trying so hard to not come loose. You’ll double down on the reassurance, that’s for sure. 

“Fingers, your fingers,” Gaeul grits, hissing; she’s unraveling. “Holy fuck-” 

Her fingers are well wrapped to the nape of your neck. You can see her brows furrowed together - the lines of her face crinkling; only for them to disappear entirely, relaxed. She forgets about reality for a moment when you slot your lips perfectly with hers, sinking two of your fingers right down the knuckle of her sopping cunt. You watch as she looks down, lips parted to an ‘o’ shape. 

“Fuck, that’s-” she’s babbling, putting her mouth back up with yours - forcing down a moan into your throat, trying to figure out the next thing to say. “Forget what I said, that’s amazing.” 

She pulls her in close as much as possible, hips bucking and jerking when your fingers glide gently between her folds, at the slit. It’s worth noting that the gentler your strokes are, the worse it is for her - so you keep the pace slow for now, waste as much time as you can, dip a finger inside, and focus on the graveled breathing by her through every passing second. 

“You like that, hm?” You’re telling her. “Gotta say, you’re fucking wet.” 

Gaeul tenses her shoulders. “I know,” she whispers, thighs closing around your hand. You’re kissing her again - open tongue and head tilted back when you bring another digit into play - her moans are hot, curling your fingers inside and pressing at the clit to keep her from thinking straight, pressing at the hottest point in her body until Gaeul eventually buries herself in your neck, stifling her whimpers when she’s cumming all over your fingers. 

“Wow,” you say, breathlessly, smiling as she leans up gingerly to put a kiss to your chin, a job well done.

“Yeah,” mumbles Gaeul. “Yeah.” 

You look over to see the person sitting on the opposite end of the car, their back still turned and hunched over; you take that as a hint that they’re probably knocked out cold. Gaeul’s fingers pull your gaze back into her, her face hot pink. She’s got this lazy smile spread on her lips, breathing with her hand palmed to your cheek, eyes dazed and out of focus. 

You then decide that you can’t help yourself anymore. Laying her down on the seat and eating her pussy out right here. You can’t stop thinking about it, looking up as her upper half crumbles while she cums on your face. She can try to make you stop if her brain isn’t partly mush, can try all she wants to stop you kissing from down her waist and into her thighs or wrapping your fingers around her legs once you’ve got your mouth clamped to her cunt like it’s nothing - you’ve got her laid back and relaxed, hands sliding south past her middle, thinking of all the pretty noises that you can squeeze from that heavenly voice of hers - Gaeul looks up once her hands meet yours at her hips, unwilling to let you go. 

You smile at her before you’re biting your lips without thinking twice. 

The way that she says your name too, does something to your brain, man. She needs you. 

You almost feel bad to be the one asking for permission first: 

“If I eat you out right here, Gaeul. Promise me that you’ll be quiet?” 

Gaeul’s mouth drops, before twisting into a devilish grin. 

She looks over to the same person you were looking at, lip captured by her teeth. “Worth a try,” she answers, still coming down from her high. Her eyes stay on you. The lust one can get is dangerously intoxicating - it may not look good on others, besides her - the shade of hot pink, her little swollen lips, the way that she has to use her fingernail to bite down. But her hand gently clutches your wrist. “Would you be nice if I said to go easy on me?” 

You snort at the question, only because her pleading eyes sell the whole deal to you anyway. 

“Asking a lot from me here, darling. No guarantees,” you tell her and descend between her spread legs. 

–

You keep spacing out since then: of her, the grip of her fingers deep in your hair; grinding her hips against your face as she’s trying to not yelp or shriek to not wake the poor guy sleeping - now completely giddy and well-relieved. She tried to crush your skull from the tongue fucking you were doing to her just ten or so minutes ago. Not to mention the cursing, it’s hard to believe she can say stuff like that. 

She also tells how thoughtful you are walking her back to her place; you know the area well enough to make your way back. You tell her that it’s nothing if anything, it was just more time to spend with you. 

Gaeul smiles at that, fixing up her hair like anyone would to keep her hands moving. Her eyes shoot towards the ground before they flashback up at you, which she’ll admit is a bit awkward for her standards. You can’t stop staring at her; she’s that pretty. It’d be worth preaching about for the rest of your life if it ever came to that. 

She hands you her phone and you’re doing the same -  a simple transaction. The subtle question of ‘it’s okay to call you on this, right?’ rolls off your teeth so easily to where Gaeul gives you a nod to answer. There’s a little bit of wiggle room to grow - filling in the gaps with details as we go - things that will be logged in eventually all with time. 

“I’ll be as blunt as possible: I want something fun,” she tells you as if she already had the general idea swirling around your head. Her fingers are fiddling with the zipper of your jacket. As if she wanted to say it differently but ended up with that. A lifeline or rope for you to hold on to - aware that the threads are tearing just a bit, but you’ll grab it anyway because you can. “I’ll bite at whatever you throw at me. Who knows, maybe I’ll do the same to even the odds.” 

Slapping a title or caption to this doesn’t always end well - if you’re gonna be honest, it’s impossible to tell whether or not it’ll go the way you hoped for. 

“You sure?” you’re asking, smiling. Since that’s the kind of trap that you were hoping to fall into anyway. In the face of love, you’ve always found yourself folding right at the first hurdle. 

Especially adding onto the fact that you and Gaeul have known each other to a slight degree; through mutuals, to be more specific. That’s one of the weird things that life can work with: instilling these thoughts about someone and telling them things knowing that it could all go wrong down the line; Gaeul rests her forearms on your shoulders, lets her fingers dance along the back of your head, and nod again with a yeah, you’re already infatuating to me as it already is. It’s so bad, she’s never dressed like this before when you’ve seen her with Liz or Wonyoung for that matter. Her chest and collarbones are out in the open air for you to mark up without remorse, tilting her head back with an arched eyebrow and sly smirk, don’t test me, because believe me, I’m gonna ruin your life from here on out. 

You may as well be far gone from the start. 

–

“It’s not that important,” you’re telling Gaeul over on FaceTime, tossing your phone onto the mattress and stretching out your limbs. Gaeul on the other end, groans in annoyance, though her voice is composed, playful. “I think we’re just stuck on a few things from what it looks like.” 

“But this project with Yujin is also one you mentioned a while back to me,” Gaeul responds, forehead filling the phone screen to check what you were doing, but all she sees is the ceiling. “What are you guys trying to achieve again?” 

“What would you do if you were assigned to discover a brand new constellation or galaxy all by yourself? You ask. “Spoiler alert: it’s a lot harder than it sounds.” 

“Maybe next time you should bring me to the observatory, that way I can see what it is you’re looking for,” Gaeul says with a lovely hum and laughs at the end of it.

She’s so cute when she’s playful; her voice alone is enough to make your brain chemistry go haywire. 

“Well, uh- you know Yujin,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “This is important to her. I honestly think that she’s trying to compartmentalize everyone that’s involved, which is a bit of an overreaction I think.” 

Gaeul then sighs, as if she too, is frustrated. “She’s a hard worker. From the outside looking in, maybe she just needs somebody to make her life interesting. Do you know what I mean? I think she’s sex deprived.” 

“You-” and you scrunch your nose, trying to hide a genuine laugh because you’ve been trying to say something along those lines to Yujin for god knows how long, and Gaeul flat-out said it in a matter of days. “You’re not wrong.” You then see her put the phone down facing up on the nightstand. “Her timetable is very slim, so I get why she can’t afford to have any distractions.” 

“Someone like her should always make time for sex.” 

“Are you always this forward?” 

“Not always, might be just for you.” 

“Consider me lucky,” you muse, tongue to the inside of your bottom lip. 

“You boys think of nothing else besides getting between a girl’s legs, huh?

Gaeuls face returns to the screen and all you give her is a pull of your lips inward. She nods when you don’t say anything, proving her suspicions right. You set her off to the side while you keep doing a separate thing to keep yourself occupied while she does the same. While you’re tending to your notes, you imagine Gaeul to be walking around her room; sitting on her bed, or moving to the bathroom or kitchen - keeping a close eye and ear on you and your voice because she’s got a fix on a few interests of yours that outweighs her own. She watches while you give her a few glances here and there. Staying on task was going to be difficult. You text her your address to pass the information without giving a reason as to why. You probably fucked up in that regard. You might’ve. 

(She puts a heart icon on the message to send your mind for a loop, telling you to think of it lightly; hey, show me what’s on the shelf behind you, see if you make your bed in the morning - and you’re carrying a conversation with her for more than an hour or so. She’s asking different kinds of questions; the ones that are along the lines of: How come you don’t have a roommate with you, where do you go for groceries, what’s the distance between your place and mine? The curiosity grows to uncover the mystery, you think. She’s laughing when you flash a look at her on the screen before you carry on with whatever task you are doing, acting all candidly when the both of you know well that you’re doing everything to not press the ‘end call’ button.)

“Wait,” Gaeul breathes, leaning closer through the phone screen. “Didn’t you offer to show me what you were working on over some food?” 

You’re side-eyeing away, hiding a smile. “I did mention that at the beginning but, yeah.” 

“Shoot, okay,” she huffs, dropping her face so that you only see the top of her head, pulling your lips inward to hide the smile. “How bout this: lace or no lace?” 

“Woah.” You freeze. “Hang on now.”

“Do you want me to explain it to you?” You could feel the slow-burning rush of heat spread across your cheeks. The phone screen flashes in your hand, and she chuckles. “Easy, cowboy. I know you want to jump the gun with me, but I just wanted to hear your thoughts before I do anything else.” 

You’re picturing it once she’s managed to break you, bending down to slip her panties back on, stretching the ends until she lets go and the fabric slaps along her skin. She can’t see it, but your mind goes under. When Gaeul presents it so innocently in the way that it is, it’s hard to believe that she’s able to bend your ego with a few simple words and actions. 

“The image of lace - on your body? I wouldn’t share that with anyone else.” 

She rolls her eyes, and hums a sing-song tone to tease you. “Alright, don’t tell me you’re getting hard just at the thought of that.” You drop your jaw and that earns you a deadpan. “Would you mind if I surprise you with a color of my choice?” 

“You know my color. Well- I don’t think too much of the color. I’m easy to impress,” you reply, nonchalant. 

“Oh, I can take my time with the color. It’s just a matter of how long you can hold out.” She’s not posing it as a threat, but the low tone in the delivery is enough to instill a small fear in the back of your mind. 

“Pfft, that doesn’t scare me.” 

“We’ll see about that. When do you want me to come?” she asks, genuinely. 

You make eye contact with her to ensure she’s serious. 

“I mean,” you start. The more your mouth freezes, the more embarrassing it gets. “Whenever you can. If you’re free.” 

Here, Gaeul tilts her head, confident smirk and tongue to her cheek. “Maybe my punishment is to make you wait. I don’t like the dry response and straight face on top of it. That’s not your look.” 

“What do you even achieve out of doing that?” you ask. “You’re holding me out from-” 

“Yes, you’ll get between my legs again like last time. But I think you can give me more than that, which I’m sure about. Make me scream until I lose my voice or I somehow lose the ability to walk. Does that sound good to you?” 

Part of you likes the fact that she’s got no filter; speaking her mind whenever it feels right.

“Sounds like a test to me,” you muse, taking the challenge head-on. You’re not the kind to back away, let alone have any reason to impress her. You’ll prove your point again when the time is right. 

“Give me twenty minutes,” she says to you. The information comes as need to know, anticipatory. You’re teasing her to get here faster: come to my place sooner and we can skip the boring exposition and do more interesting stuff together. “I promise not to keep you waiting.”

–

The time ticks a lot faster and when you realize it, three or four knocks are sounding off on your right. A scuffle of your socks, a swing of the door later, and voila: Gaeul’s in the middle of your doorway, reflecting the same head tilt you’re giving her before she leans forward for a few kisses. It’s real-life b-roll footage, the snapshots and captured moments of love that everyone longs for in some way or another; you’re living in it. 

“Mhm,” she hums, arms well wrapped around your neck with wrists stacked. She smells good, her body lighter than usual, letting you pull her closer because she knows you will. “Looks like somebody missed me.” 

“Uh uh,” you breathe, laughing in the open space of your mouths, shuffling into the apartment some more, stumbling. Gaeul’s keeping her attire easy with a pair of baggy bottoms that’ll slip so easily out of her legs once you get her to stop moving- 

“I’ll have you know that I thought long and hard about what to wear,” adds Gaeul, standing still and taking her sneakers off one foot at a time, her hair pooling from one side to the other. “But then it hit me, why not just keep it casual?” 

“Explains the comfy combo,” you’re telling her. You don’t even realize the bag brandished on her shoulder. “Is that-” 

“Exactly what it looks like. I don’t have anything tomorrow, so I figured I’d use my downtime more wisely.” 

This is fun. Sure, it’s the playful banter, mixed in with the flirting. You’re using every self-restraint you’ve got in your head to not pin her over on the couch and put her hips against yours. 

You simply can’t help it. The law of attraction that’s taking place: you like her, and it can’t get any more complicated than that. You’re positive that she feels the same way - to some extent. She rubs the neckbone at the nape, twiddles the ends of your hair. The smile she has is infectious, watches as your eyes wander across the lines of her face, almost like you discovered fire. Gaeul’s lips then fall flat, nodding. This is the second or third time you’re seeing her exclusively, each one more exciting than the last. 

“Hungry?” 

Gaeul shakes her head, “Hm, kinda.” 

“You’re in luck,” you beam. “I was gonna whip something up anyway.” 

“Aw, how thoughtful.” She tells you when you’re setting her down, walking over to the dining table with her setting her bag down, following not too far behind. While you’re getting yourself situated, she takes the time to let her head look and observe all the things organized on your shelves and tables, a peek into the inner workings of what makes you tick. You could feel her gaze on you once you’ve got yourself situated at the stove and she finally settles down at the kitchen island, opposite from you with a front-row seat. 

You throw a towel on your shoulder, playing the measly bartender part loosely. “Water?” 

Gaeul blinks, hums a noise serving as a yes. 

“This is just for starters,” you tell her, sliding a glass across the marble before eying the brandy resting at the top of the fridge. “If you want, we can get the good drinks later when we’re bored.” 

“I’d like that.” 

“Want me to explain why Yujin’s project has been a pain in my ass as of recently?” 

She dips her head down, hiding her smile. 

“I think I can think of a few reasons why she can be a handful for some people,” she says, sipping a bit of the water before she gestures her head to the fridge, wanting to get right to business without wasting any time. “But you care a little too much, so we need to ease your mind a little.” 

“Just trying to not be overbearing; because she’s a piece of work, but I love working with her regardless,” you tell her. Next thing you know the brandy’s been brought down on the counter. While you’re doing that, you’re finding the gaps in her schedule. When’s the next time you’re free? There’s the proposal that you’ll bring her out for a nice picnic, drinks with charcuterie, maybe toss in painting to the mix while you’ll blatantly stare at her cottagecore dress with a wine glass in her hand- 

“Are these your notes?” She asks, pulling one of your many notebooks closer to flip through the pages, looking at the different constellations that are already there, the ones that are easy to recognize. Her eyes dart to you when you’re sliding over a different cup filled with brandy for her to take, taking a sip while you glance over at the two sandwiches on your pan. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is quite a lot of work she has you doing.” 

“The name of the game, essentially,” you’re grinning, transferring over a tablet with pictures of different stars and galaxies from an album you curated. Some are straight out of a textbook, the others you and Yujin have found on separate occasions. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re actually a nerd?” Gaeul asks, mockingly, swiping the screen as you give her an unimpressed expression. 

You crowd behind her shoulder, going through the gallery, leaning her head against yours as your nose brushes her cheek, sighing in approval. Your hands have a mind of their own, slithering around her waist, planting a kiss on her neck - just to tease. Hey, you’re not fooling anyone here. 

“So you’re telling me that Yujin’s been trying to find a constellation of love somewhere in the stars instead of an actual person? Okay-” she holds in her laugh, leaning into your touch with another kiss. “Sorry, I- I can’t help myself, she’s a handful with this.” 

“Food’s ready, by the way,” you tell her. “I can talk about my side of things in the meantime.” 

–

Gaeul, effortless as she is, listens attentively. 

Her elbows are on the table top, most of the sandwich eaten as she keeps her eyes fixated on you. She watches while you’re giving her the basic rundown of what’s going on with your work life to the best of your ability - stops you midway, points to a spot under the corner of your lip, prompting you to check it yourself, which you do. By some klutzy move, you miss it - probably on purpose, enabling her into telling you to lean closer for her to wipe it herself, and with a downward tilt of your face, she hides away for a moment. It’s that implication of playfulness that gives way to curiosity, that sense of restlessness where sex was always going to be the eventual inevitability.  She wipes whatever was on your chin with her thumb, and keeps it there. Next thing you know, her lips are on yours. 

You’re fighting the press of her lips, leaning forward. Her hands suddenly palm your chest, pushing you back into the chair; the conquest picks up when she straddles herself on top of your hips, grazing her lips and nose across your face. The rush itself dies down for a bit - taking the sweet time of tasting each other’s lips and sucking the air out of one another. 

For someone like her to kiss you so eagerly. You’d let her do just that. 

Her jacket gets taken off smoothly, and her bottoms are pulled a bit to where you can see a hint of her underwear, holding her by the hips. 

The fucking lace, alright. She looks unreal the way it hugs her figure. 

At this point you’re just hypnotized by her hands and lips, undoing some of the buttons on your shirt, sliding her way down until the trail of kisses reaches the lower regions. Your pants and boxers pool at your ankles, kicking them off. She kisses the inside of your thighs, lets her breath coat your balls before a lick of the underside shifts your hips forward to the edge of the chair. Her pretty little mouth reaches your tip, delicately kissing it; she knows what the fuck she’s doing. 

“You’ve been fantasizing about this for a little, haven’t you?” Gaeul teases, pleased. She grins when she wraps her fingers at the base, sighs when you hiss some of the air out your lungs. Her breasts are fighting the bra containing them. She then opens her mouth a bit, drops her head, sinks - fuck. The seal alone is just the right amount of pressure. “How much am I willing to bet you yanked one out after our first date?” 

Your midsection tenses, balling your fists because there’s nothing else you would rather do than push your hips upward and fill her throat; not to shut her up, but give her an idea of what she’s in for if she doesn’t play nice. 

You know that she won’t. 

“Well- you’re right. I did exactly that. How did you-” you blow air out instantaneously when she moves down halfway to your shaft, her eyes rolling back as she’s forcibly choking down your cock. Some of the spit leaks out of her mouth, coating the skin, soaking her bottom lip. Some of it lands on her chest. 

“-ust my kind of guess. Now how much are you willing to bet you’ll ruin me with this cock of yours?” she asks once more, giving you no time to answer when she’s putting her head between your legs, suffocating herself before popping her lips off the tip, slapping your shaft across her cheek. “Shouldn’t take you that long, huh?” 

The way she’s smiling while talking you through this filth, it’s gonna break you. You need her. You need her mouth right back on your fucking cock before she entertains the idea of blue balling you to oblivion. “I’m slightly worried that you won’t be able to handle this. Maybe I should just hop on your cock and let you have your fun while you fill me up-” 

“So f-fucking bad, you are,” you grit, stuttering. 

Consider this as karma coming full circle: Gaeul breaking you just by her being on her knees, lapping away your cock while you had your fun eating her out in the back of the bus back to her place less than forty-eight hours ago, holding her close while you made a mess of her underwear with your fingers. She was trying so hard to be quiet, covering her mouth while you were fucking her open. 

“Aw, that’s unfortunate,” she tells you, dropping her mouth again, hand cupping beneath your balls, working her way down your shaft even more. 

Her bobs are meticulous and calculated. The levels of stimulation are over the scale you drew up in your head, and when she gets her other hand in the fun - twisting the base while the one at your balls are being squeezed, you draw your head back against the chair. 

It’s all in the slow buildup: the soft pumps, the occasional spit slathered as the sound of skin on skin becomes even more obscene. Her fingers coil your base when she takes you in that enveloping heat, humming down your cock until you feel the gentle graze of her teeth on the topside, eyes open and going cross-eyed. You’re struggling to come to terms that this girl was the same girl that was dressed up so nicely and princess-like in the art museum asking you and wondering what was the meaning of all these pieces. 

But then you’re reminded, that all of it is just the surface level of certain things - once you get to know someone, you learn as you go along with them. Gaeul just blinks through every move of her head at your hips, coating your cock endlessly and teasing to the point where she wants to see that side of you that you’re capable of showing her - to make you bust over and over again until you filled up her cunt where she’s begging for more, watch as she gets herself off if you’re away from her for too long, break her like it’s meant to be a daily routine from here on out - which will happen, Gaeul’s good enough to get you there sooner than you think, her pretty little lips, her dainty hands, that fucking tongue - you’ll get back at her for breaking you. 

“Sweetie, okay.” You gasp when she bottoms out your cock, groaning aloud that she’s smiling into the length. She keeps working with her hands and mouth, takes a moment to breathe, fingers sliding nice and easy along the slick skin. Staring at you. “Gaeul, please-” 

She’s close to getting you there; begging, and you manage to get a hand to her cheek, hold her face while she sinks her lips back on your cock again. Fuck. You might be too far gone already. Her teeth press down on the skin of your dick and you let out a noise showing another sign of just how good she’s making you lose it. Some of your fingers card her hair, like you’re clawing for a grip on the side of a rock and you swear that your cockhead swells at the top of her throat - you’re left speechless. You’re pretty sure that you can see stars. 

Gaeul smacks your tip across her lips, smiles as she does so. “You love my mouth, don’t you? I bet you’re just dying to cum all over my fingers and make me apologize for not letting you have your fun. Sucks to be you.” 

“Fucking-” you spit. She swipes her tongue on her lower lip, kisses your shaft the second after. Her index and thumb tighten around your base. “Gaeul, I swear-” 

“What? Had enough already?” 

Forget what you assumed about Gaeul. This version of her at your feet blows the performance right out of the water. 

All that boldness; that wit and snark while playing it cool, she swept it all under the rug from you. Anything she does or says to you, she knows that you’ll twist yourself into giving in to what she wants. Bratty might be one way to conclude - the way she hides her pert smile when you can easily tell that it’s a teasing grin. She looks at your shaft so earnestly as she jerks it around her hand, testing the girth and thickness of it when she finally decides enough is enough and tells you to plug that sorry little hole up that is her throat. The choice to paint your mess over her face or drain it down her mouth is up to you; you’ll ruin her just to satisfy your selfish ego. 

“I could just let you, ya know,” she leans more into your palm while her tongue laves across the skin of your balls, breath hot and heavy in the same way her eyelashes bat at you so innocently. “Let you fuck my face and fill my mouth up with this cock. You’ve been good enough for me, I think I just might.” 

She leans back and unclips her bra, revealing her tits; nice and perky, her rosy pink nipples too - you’ll mark her up when you get the chance. Her hands go to her hair, tying it like some party trick that only takes a few seconds, leans down to your stomach and kisses it, licking downwards just enough to make you snap. 

Your hand’s fast to grab the ponytail on the back of Gaeul’s head. 

“Thought you said you’d let me take over,” you tell her. And then: “there we go, look at that. So pretty when your mouth is full of my cock,” you hiss, guiding her down along your shaft, dragging your hips down and up into the addicting clench of her throat. You pull yourself out and smack your tip across her face, smearing the spit and precum. She wants the mess: “Gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you.” 

When she sinks again, you lose focus for a moment. 

“Mmphgh,” she hums, gripping your wrist. “Mmmuugh.” 

“Not so tough now if you can’t talk.” You almost feel bad. It’s unfair how she can still look up at you and smile at the corner of her lips, keeping her gaze leveled as you sink her mouth on your shaft - you thrusting upwards to meet in the middle. She’s handling it like a champ, and it takes a bit for someone to take you whole. 

A drag up, down, then up. She’s halfway on your shaft, rises, goes deeper - you could see her upper lip clamp down at the base, cheeks puffing up to dispel the air. Her head shakes a bit, struggling; sucking her cheeks soon after - god. The blush is a lot more apparent now, her eyes filled with lust. You give her a little bit of breathing room while you crash her face back down on your shaft. 

“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling her velvety mouth, taking all of you. She inhales sharply when you slip out of her - only for her to take you back in as you pick up with the thrusts with every shove of her head back down. 

You are trying, so hard, to not fuck anything up - fucking her face - you’re pretty sure you feel a little lightheaded. Her gaze is hazy, gasping every few seconds or so through the gags before you up the intensity once more. How is she even prettier like this? She has no right. Not when the noises and current actions are this debauched. 

“Mmnph?” She hums, the vibration tremoring on the skin. The clamp of her lips at the base again doesn’t help, but when she slides her tongue along the underside- 

“Jesus, Gaeul-” 

Fuck. She inhales your cock to the hilt and swipes her tongue across the same spot where her lip can’t reach. Rough. 

“Mmph hmm.” 

“Relax your jaw, baby,” and she does so, holding you where the clench is the hottest. She squints her eyes as you move her head side to side, the gagging more punctuated through the wet sounds. Ah fuck-

She makes it so, so easy for you. You’ve got just enough to hold yourself back, tugging at her ponytail while she adjusts her mouth over your length - mindlessly bobbing that makes you forget for a second and get lost in the overwhelming wave of pleasure coursing through your body. You’d do anything for her, she’d do anything for you: even if making her a slut was part of the process. 

If we’re being honest here, she wouldn’t have gone this far for you to fuck her mouth - like, a well-practiced and simple blowjob from her could’ve been enough for you to lose it - but if she prefers things this way, how her wide eyes keep looking at you with your hand in her hair, she’ll keep it up until you eventually dump your cum all over her tongue. 

You just have to, soon, and you will. Gaeul guides her other hand to yours, giving you free reign - sending her mouth to you. She does it with such grace, so beautifully, the arousal catches you by surprise. 

Her hands slide to your sides, gripping. Goddamnit, it’s clustered all over her face: the rosy cheeks, the swollen mouth, the sound of her mewling and gagging once you’re upping the pace of your thrusts, spit spread all over her face and chest that makes her skin shine, her hair around the tie becoming more and more messier. 

She will make you insane. 

“Mhm mhm,” she sputters out because it takes her a while for her to coherently say it, probably since her cheeks are so full of cock you pull yourself out to the point there are webs of spit plastered over your shaft and on her lips. 

You’re trying to hold it together. Gaeul, not so much - breathing staggered before she nudges her lips along your cockhead again, opens wide, and slides her way back down, the hypnotizing movement of drool with every deepthroat stroke she does on you. 

“Gaeul,” you call out, breathlessly. Her gags just keep on coming, and your hands find themselves in a familiar place yet again. 

She forces your hand down, comes back up for air. You’re left speechless, stunned. She’s kissing up your cock - desperately in adoration, practically begging without being verbal about it. 

“I want it,” she whispers - drops her jaw again, and guides your hand with her head back down on your length. The friction alone hangs your mind in suspense. 

“Fuck my mouth,” she commands; her voice soothing. You don’t think twice when you sink her head back down on your cock, the warmth and plushness of it unfathomable to register in your fucked-out brain. When she comes back up, gasping for air: “Please, sir. Just like that.” 

So you grip her hair again. “Shit.” You pull at the root of her knot, let her graze her teeth along the slick surface of your cock. “Christ- Gaeul,” Her eyes red, mascara smeared, cheeks hollowed out once more as her throat rucks up the head of your shaft, taking you- all of you. 

Easing yourself into fucking her face wasn’t the way to go; it would be like shying away, saving yourself the embarrassment. Your ears close in on the sounds: the choking, the new layer of spit coated across your throbbing shaft. She’s so good with her lips - in the most fucked up way possible, the sloppier she is, the more happy she’ll be when you release your cum in her mouth or on her face. 

Whichever one happens first, that is, you’ll find out soon enough. 

“Gaeul-” you’re saying her name, sighing it out in reverence. “Close, baby. I’m so close-” 

It’s when she curls her bottom lip, the technique of her tongue sweeping that sensitive spot at the underside - it makes your vision focus at a fine point, she doesn’t let up with the gulps and gags, the delicious clench that makes you swallow nothing. Fuck, you feel it. She knows. With every passing drive of your hips, there’s enough wiggle room for her to breathe again. 

She’ll kill you if you let her do this more often. 

–

“Uhm,” you’re calling out to her again, noticing something out of place. “I don’t remember you asking for that.” 

Gaeul turns around, stretches the shirt on her like some bathrobe. It’s funny: the hem at the waistline covers the middle of her thighs, but somehow you can’t help but admit she looks cute in your clothes - even when she’s wiping away the cum and saliva with the collar and there’s no point in complaining. 

“Sorry, I thought you’d be okay with me having a small memento of you,” she says, pulling the fabric behind, molding it to her figure. There’s a playful hum she’s singing, wandering around your place like it’s her gallery, eyeing the trinkets and things that make you well- you. 

“Would you be cool if-” she adds, turning around in some coquettish ingénue pose, showing a bit of her panties that’s being engulfed by her ass. “-I made you cum a third time?” 

You give her a chuckle since that’s in the ballpark of recurring jokes or cute memories, somewhere along the lines of flirting like an idiot and fucking like rabbits. It’s getting there, the insight at least. 

Sure, have her keep the shirt. It looks good on her. She brought a change of clothes for the night anyway; God knows as to why but you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her around. 

“I’ll take that as a yes with how you’re staring at me still.” She muses a scrunch of her nose that simmers the cutesy, heart-fluttering, babyism sort of act that would make anyone, in particular, flash a look of confusion topped off with a subtle eye roll. 

She grabs your toothbrush and runs it through the faucet. You don’t say anything about that. 

The balls of her feet lift her heels, but she’s not slick with the small arch of her back and leans in towards the mirror. She’s careless, and that’s apparent with how the collarbone sticks out on the right side where the shirt pools. You give her a light laugh when you’re hugging her side, nestle your nose at her temple, patting her head. 

“Do -ou minth?” Gaeul sighs, smiling. “-m tryimph to cean mythelf ere.” The toothbrush hangs at the side of her mouth, minding her own business as you’re pulling a few wisps of her hair past her ear. “Should’ve closed the door on you when I had the chance. Didn’t expect you to be so clingy. You expect me to believe that you can be soft and bubbly when you just shoved your cock down my throat?” 

“Too much?” you ask. “I can dumb it down if you want.” 

She gives you a genuine shake of her head. No. “I don’t mind at all.” She spits out the paste into the sink for a new one, since she’s drooling it out. “It’s cute that you’re like this when it should be the opposite.” 

“Mmm. Bite me if you have a problem with it.” 

Gaeul then sighs when you bury your nose in her hair, rub the side of her waist, because it feels right. Her eyes follow you when you leave her be at the sink, let her spit out some more before brushing. 

–

A girl like Gaeul makes it difficult for you to come to grips with her small, yet lithe frame - how your hands rest neatly on the swell of her ass, fingertips cupping the indent. She’s not making this any better, palming your cock through your pants, or that cheeky smirk once her hand slithers past the elastic and wraps around you like it’s a lifeline. 

You also realize: how light she is, feeling her tits and having a moment of small joy when you manage to get a mouthful of her breast, mouth parting while you’re sucking on her mounds and nipples shamelessly to the point where she has to tug you by the hair to make you stop, grasp at that last bit of control. 

Marking up her chest serves as a viable response to her. 

“Careful now,” she tells you, mewling, head tipped forward - the stimulation quite a lot for her to handle. “A little aggressive, are we? Ah-” 

Like you’re the kind of person to take it easy, anyway. She says your name so prettily; the sensuality over a simple utterance, the breathlessness lying beneath the tone. You’ll fuck and treat her like she’s the only girl in the world and prove it in more ways than one. You’re on the eve of something big here: finding where her limbs and muscles tense, mark up her perfect skin and knock her up like she wants the filthy mess. There’s an unspoken safe word - a prompt or phrase of some kind. If or when she says: “I’m yours,” she tells you, eyes fluttering when you slip your two fingers in, guiding them to the tempo that she wants you to go. 

So she grinds on your fingers and cock whilst making out with you on your bed, eventually fucking her soon after, sheets and pillows tossed and used in the process; you slip some rubber on your cock and cum first before she does, and she’s a bit angry, pouty, coiling her arms and legs around your neck and shoulders until you give her what she wants - the time reads a little past midnight, she’s sprawled on the bed like some happy, sleepy puppy and sighs: “I’m starting to think you can’t handle me. My pussy’s just too good for you to have another round,” laughing as her knee rises and slides her heels along the mattress. 

“Maybe two or three will shut you up, I don’t know.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Gaeul says flatly in lieu of your subtle shrug, “I’m gonna break your cock, just watch me,” and well, you find and realize, she was serious about that; she fucks herself on your hips, determined - and hops off your waist, your front flush with her back, bringing a pillow for her to cling onto. “Something tells me that you’ve been- deprived, I would say. This bed is a little too spacious for us.” 

You laugh with a yawn mixed in. “Yeah, sure.” Gaeul takes the tie you pulled out from her hair and tosses it to the nightstand. “If you want to put it that way, I won’t complain.” 

She scoffs. “Wow. I point out one thing and you’re not even gonna argue against it,” you can picture the quirk of her mouth, a hint of her teeth peeking through into a grin. “For a guy like you to have some experience, that’s not what I expected-” 

“Do you want the polite answer or the truth?” you ask her, leaning more into the cushion while Gaeul tangles a leg between yours. The world around you seems to fade out from your ears, solely making you focus on the present moment, looking at her with a wistful gaze, one filled with contentment and wonder. 

Deprived no more, you’re mentally telling yourself. 

It’s not long after before Gaeul pats your cheek, kisses your jaw before you hear her feet scuff across the floor to your bathroom with nothing on, watching as she checks herself in the mirror, leans into the doorframe, arm raised and stretched up high, locks of her hair spilling from her collarbones and down to her chest, that head tilt to top the silhouette off nicely you’re left in a trance. 

You figure out that this moment, right now, all of the stars aligned at the right time and firmly believe that it’ll stay. 

–

Sometime later, you tell Gaeul that you were holding out for someone like her; someone that took an effort to get because they were simply out of your league - she laughs, half-impressed. 

“Y’know, for you to be figuratively at the altar but still searching,” she murmurs, tapping your chin. “people like you and I can only get so far in life.” 

“People like me and you,” you repeat, the movement between you two isn’t much, but still cautious.

Gaeul drops her eyelids and smiles, a dimple appearing. 

“People. Interesting, enticing,” she breathes. “Enigmatic and those with charisma.” A chuckle hums low in her chest when she looks up with those wistful, doe eyes, “that’s where your type falls, doesn’t it?” 

On the nail, she is - damn she’s good. 

“And where would I be, had I not talked to you that day,” you ask, grinning like an idiot. The space alone is still difficult to interpret, placing your lips on hers and scratch her head while the waves of her coffee-brown locks sift between your fingers. You could feel yourself sinking - sucked into a black hole with no way out, swallowing you up whole. 

“I wonder too,” she echoes your thought. 

You kiss her forehead, give attention to that cute little beauty mark on her cheek. Watch as her gaze softens: a look of love, almost. 

“I’m bad news for you, sadly,” she adds. “Keep me in your life, you’re bound to regret it.” 

–

She wants you so bad, you can’t help but fuck her for the next couple of days. 

Your schedule slowly shifts to Gaeul’s. When the night falls - because there are multiple instances at two in the morning talking about complete nonsense over mac and cheese bowls and slow kissing in the shower with the water falling on both of you that makes her skin a hot blush pink, pressing her into the tile or sink after with your hand or towel in her mouth to keep her quiet - since you learn she likes it that way, letting you feel up the slick curves of her ass and watch the skin ripple to where you see some of the recoil of her tits in the mirror, or even on your office chair facing away from the desktop, Gaeul biting your ear with her knees up to her pits- 

“You like fucking my pussy open with my legs up like this? Hmm?” Gaeul hisses in your ear, voice rasped and torn, sliding her legs back down, tugging hair while you’re filling every inch of her cunt. “Just letting you use me wherever, whenever, however you want-” 

Alright. It’s hard to imagine what you were getting yourself into when Yujin threw a bone to pick at you playing matchmaker - leaving the door open for Gaeul, the girl who waltzed into your life unknowingly, only for her to be the kind of girl that crumbles from your cock being inside her, pumping so full where she’s pulling you into that leaking white slit for another round - but there’s times in the late morning, treating herself another cup of tea, body riddled with hickeys drawn up and discovered by you like a stargazer, her small waist a gift from the heavens above, in your sweatpants where the ends pool over to her toes, leaning down to take your attention away from the screen, grabbing a handful of her tit in place of a hello. 

“What’s that you got there?” Gaeul giggles, hand stacked on yours while you squeeze gently. “That doesn’t look related to the project.” 

She’s half-right. It’s somewhat relevant to the submissions Yujin’s been sending over for you to look at, and the data’s been stagnant; luckily, you’re glad that someone else’s been keeping you accountable for the time being. 

“Well, that's because it isn’t.” you laugh, swiveling your chair a bit so that she can sit on your lap. “This is what the galaxy looked like on your birthday. Gotta say, that does look pretty.” 

Gaeul coos, leaning her head on top of yours. She moves your hand up to her chest, slips her arm out of the sleeve, rucks the shirt on her shoulder. The mix of pale skin and pink bruises, you’re salivating with every lick of your lips - and she leans closer to the screen.

Her eyes widen at the flashes of blue and purple, stares like the picture itself is an art piece, captivated. “Wow, you know what I think?” 

“What is it?” 

“If you’re gonna help discover a galaxy or image like that,” Gaeul tells you, moving her arm around your neck, lightly scratching your hair, “I’d pull your weight with Yujin on this project if I were you.” 

“Really?” you ask her, leaning back so that she can rest her other leg across yours. “I’ve been doing that, but it’s been slow.” 

“Maybe you just have to draw up the connection a little better, then.” 

–

Your groove gets thrown off. Gaeul disrupts the flow which you have no complaint about. You leave your place far later than you intended, and tell Yujin to let you off the hook. The pictures, readings, sketches - the information is a lot to take already. You’re seeing stars. If she’s the sun then you’d be Icarus: flying closer and closer until you get engulfed completely. 

This isn’t simple for you; a little hard to properly explain. The girl just takes and takes and takes. 

You show Gaeul the night sky, have her look through your telescope and tell which stars and planets are seen, painting the image and guiding her to fill that imagination - only for her to say something to make you laugh; next thing you know, she’s got her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, shutting you up with no care right there on the balcony. She keeps batting those lashes at you, fucking her face - hollowed cheekbones too, god. She’s swallowing you whole, hands at your sides, gargling. Putting her hair up in that ponytail. Yeah, you won’t last long. 

The lapping, licking, spitting. She’s savoring the inescapable deepthroat. 

When she licks the upper seam of your balls, you’re pretty sure you saw a new set of stars right then and there. 

“We might need to look at those pictures you have,” you’re telling Yujin on the phone. “I think those from the last look-up. No- I mean, yeah. I was also reading on Rei’s side of the project as well, and what she has is way more substantial than what we were initially working with.” 

“As much as I hate to admit it, her recent stuff has been looking pretty good compared to ours. I’m just glad we found her to work with us in the first place.” Yujin says, laughing. 

“All I’m saying from last time is that if you were this committed to finding someone that can put up with your antics; maybe rough you up and get you all needy and not be as controlling to just live a little, you know? I know that we’re close to finishing this, but I can extend an olive branch for you to reach if you need a guy up your alley.” 

“I’ll hold you to that offer,” replies Yujin, “Hopefully you got a guy in mind that can handle me like how Gaeul is with you.” 

Right, you tell her. Gaeul’s leaned on the frame leading to the kitchen; not tired, sighing when you look over your shoulder to see her hand in her sweats, finger deep up her cunt. The tilt of your head says to keep it down. She bites her lip, continuing what she’s doing. You’ll see why, and be glad that you didn’t jump at the opportunity yet. You look away for a second to notice her sitting right next to you, brushing up your right side, forcing you to switch the phone to the other hand. Watch it. You’re certain that she could hop on your cock right now, and ride you without a care in the world, because why the fuck not? She’s not wearing panties underneath as it is; asking, whining, begging to be bred. 

Shit. 

You really could. 

If you wanted to. 

Like fucking her on the balcony for the world to see would just be another law in your twisted philosophy, breaking a slut like her, leaving the mess of cum all over her body, have her lick it off so sweetly. In a sky full of stars, you’d want to paint that picture somewhere up there too. 

You’re certain that there’s a solace here - one that’s permanently eclipsed with euphoria, certain that it will stay. 

Gaeul’s breathing funnels into your ear as you bite down a smile, grab a handful of her ass and claw greedily at the indent. You could feel her head nod against yours. She’s so fucking needy. 

“I’ll send over the revisions I made,” she pulls back on your lap to see you say. Yujin beams on the other end of the line. “Touch base with Rei also to see if it matches up.” 

Gaeul moves your arm away, pushes your head back with a lip lock. Her hips drop to your growing bulge below. You end the call right away to ensure Yujin doesn’t get caught up in the middle of it, watch as she rips your shirt off from her body. 

–

You hate to admit that you’ve got this dark-twisted fantasy, unwilling to frame that mindset because there was no reason to. She’s so mild-mannered and soft-spoken; wears pretty outfits and dresses waiting for you in the lobby of your building. She’s one messy bun with a hairclip on top away from urging you to snatch her away, Christ almighty. You’ll take away the layers and make mental notes, conceal her away like she’s some comet - write her name into the books that way the whole world knows about her perfection. A girl like her can change what a man thinks, make them say things like I know what you want, don’t give me that look - just for her to stare with that lovestruck look in your eyes. 

If she wasn’t the kind of girl that fell from the sky and onto your lap, syrupy laugh and giggle with those dreamy eyes, you would have a hard time looking through a scope; she’s rattling your brain to the point where you could say one or two things, have her listen dutifully because you know she will. 

Every exploration is a journey into the unknown, and suddenly she could pop a question at any random point in time, like: hey, you don’t need science to make a woman feel good, okay? You can totally fuck me like you mean it.  

But here she’s babbling, heaving. Completely stuffed up on her back with her knees to her chest, brain nothing but mish mash and riding out the pleasure. “Aren’t you a sweet thing,” you groan, “creaming all over my cock-” 

She’s biting down a piece of her shirt, lifted just above her tits, eyes squinched. Her head tilts back, chest up in the air. You’re pressing on the underside of her thighs, pushing her deep into the mattress. The words coming out of her mouth are incoherent, but you’re fucking it out of her: god, oh god, yes, shit, baby, fuck, fuck me- 

“Christ,” you hiss, and move your hands from her thighs to her back, bending the arch more. You’ve done yourself a favor by not railing her on the dining table like last time, gripping her ass, the addicting clench and glide of her folds, begging you to pound and pound and pound until she’s lost the feeling in her legs. 

Everything leading up to this was relatively tame; nothing too serious other than fifteen or twenty minutes of the usual fill-ins of what was done throughout the day, only for Gaeul to flash a look at you and with a grab of her wrist, the rest of the clothes peel away not long after. 

Probably in this universe, there’s nothing left to decipher in the sounds and expressions displayed on Gaeul’s face, small streams of tears falling on her cheeks with every part from the face down riddled in a rosy blush and sweat. You slide your palms up to her chest, rest your thumbs on the underside of her breasts, steadying, plugging your cock up in her tiny cunt and dragging every inch of skin across her walls, clamping hard and soaking no matter how fast and hard you’re giving it to her. Her body’s used to your length, thoroughly fucked that she can’t do anything but feel ruined. 

You see her mouth form an oh shape, some of her hair gets caught on her cheek, glancing you from the corner of her eye before rolling it back to her head- 

“Shhh,” you say, brushing your nose to the side. “Almost there, baby. I’ve got you-” 

Gaeul’s brows furrow together; grinding her teeth, forcing the dragged-out groan down her throat, tears peeking through the seal of her eyelids. She knows that she can’t do anything - besides just taking it like a nice little girl, let this cock pound and wreck her and look gorgeous as you bottom her out. 

“C’mon baby,” you’re huffing, getting one good thrust in while the flesh ripples at your hips, and Gaeul grits out a holy shit but dies down instantaneously, soft, the wail wheezed out in a whisper. Her whole body shakes with another peak, her face flushed with red, saying nothing seconds later. The wetness leaks out of her, coating your cock while holding you true. There’s no objection, only order when you drive your dick back in her cunt. Small threads of her slick forming on your waist, drawing their own set of constellations on her body. 

Her body rebounds upwards on the inhale. 

“Cum,” she tells you, pleading. You could feel her fingers coil your forearm. 

“Condom,” you stutter and fuck. She’s so unhinged - even if it’s just a singular word or simple request. Wringing her out this way was always going to be the result. “Fuck, can’t-” 

Her breath hitches, a cute noise you think. Some of her hair falls on her forehead, eyes lidded. The corner of her mouth ticks up. 

“What?” 

“If you seriously think that I’m gonna cum inside-” 

Gaeul chuckles, twisted into a moan. You can see the gears in her head turning, trying not to get caught up with your cock embedded in her hot cunt still. 

“Not- that.” 

“Not?” 

Her head falls to the mattress. 

“All over me.” Her shoulders slack, hands sliding further up your arm. You let her legs bracket your hips as you grasp at her tit. She doubles down on the command to be sure you heard it the first time. “I wanna feel it.” 

You don’t say anything more when she props herself up on her elbows, watching the sight of your cock slide slowly in and out of her cunt. Slipping the condom off in one swift pull and lick your palm. Gaeul bites on her thumb, smiling at you barely keeping it together. 

“Here is fine.” The way she suggests is dripping in want. Her heaving chest, kiss-bitten lips, tousled hair and sweat and everything in between. “Or maybe,” you see her glossy eyes once more, filled with lust. “Paint my face and get your nice, thick cum all over my fucking lips-” 

You inhale sharply. 

“Watch it,” you hiss. 

“Maybe I won’t,” Gaeul replies, lip between her teeth, challenging. Her hand reaches to your length to keep you second-guessing. The sight of her body; a literal depiction of sin, right in the palms of your hands. 

She grinds your cockhead along her folds, closing her legs slightly. The pressure already sucking you back in. “Sweetie, where- I could just let you lick it off again, grab a towel from the bathroom, that-” 

“You know what I want.” 

You look at her, unsure. But you know what’s about to happen anyway. 

As if she couldn’t give it to you in a different language, she grabs your wrist gently. It’s an easy problem with an easy solution. You can’t argue how pleasant she really is. She doesn’t have to prove more into it, how she’ll be, you could give into that sense of luxury, and you really could. 

So you’re pondering, skeptical. “I told you. You’re insane if you genuinely want me to cum in you. We’re not doing this. No.” 

Gaeul pouts, combined with an eyebrow lift. 

“And I wasn’t kidding when I said that.” She mentioned it the first time, too: “I’d let you cum anywhere you want.” 

A few more passing blinks go by. 

“Why go through all that just to waste your hard work on-” And you’re left surprised that she’s got the strength left to pull herself back up, resting her hips right on top of yours, fingers carding through your hair when she slips you back inside. Inch by inch, you feel her sinking down - slowly. You know that she isn’t stopping in particular, wiggling her ass; a soft implication, teasing. She’s pulling you closer and closer to where you’re seeing eye to eye with her. “Safeguarding a pretty girl like me.” 

In all honesty: it’s in your nature. Gaeul’s simply just being herself. Tender. Beautiful. Fully embracing. You could give her the power to destroy you, and she’d thank you for it. 

She gives you a very hard time thinking, grinding her hips against yours - let yourself get drunk in the raptures since the rubber was starting to become a pain in the ass recently. Gaeul’s cunt siphons out all your thoughts with every single inch of her gripping cunt, speaking listless phrases of praise and wishes that you’re positive to make come true for her. She could ride and pound her pretty pussy all over your cock - orgasm after orgasm after orgasm - until her face is blown out and just flat-out gone. Ease her mind with your dick, since she seems to love it so much. 

To be spoiled, showered and railed in whatever way possible. She just keeps hopping along your cock, bottoming herself out to the point where she’s looking to the ceiling in pure stimulation. 

You ruck your hips forward. Gaeul trembles, sighing in relief, allowing you the reins, lifting her body up and back down on your thighs. Her neck tips down, mouth canted. 

She’s warm and tight - just perfect; so sensitive and responsive after bouncing her cunt on your cock over and over and over- 

You steady yourself, savoring the feeling. 

She wants you to fill her up, to the point where she has to tell you that it’s enough. 

You suck in a breath, slip out a groan, shuddering. “Oh my god-” 

“Good, right?” Gaeul smiles, “Shit-” and you feel her head collapse onto yours, relaxing and riding out the length until her hips mesh with yours. She practically melts on your cock, stretching and tightening all at once, inviting. 

A kiss to her chest is what you give her, trying to keep your mind off her pussy carelessly clinging every inch of your girth; making it simpler for you to nudge your cockhead into the spot that makes her clench and shake; mewling and humming mixed with the moans; soaking your hips till it stains the sheets. 

“Such a slut,” you tell her, maintaining the last bits of coherence you have left, “so careless and needy. I should stop before you do some real damage.” 

Gaeul smirks, looks so admonished you can’t help but stare. “I don’t like that tone of yours.” 

“What tone?” 

She curls a smile before cradling your head. 

“Talking me down, doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“You told me that you didn’t mind.” You lift her hips from the crease, lean forward to swirl your tongue around her nipple. Looking up to see her watch, give a shameless lick on her bud to lay the challenge, pull back with a pop of the lips. “I know you were being polite about it. Call me a good listener.” 

“I might’ve said something different.” 

“Like you beg to differ.” 

“Hush.” 

“Pussy so good for you that you’re at a loss of words? Set your mind right after getting lazy over work?” The arch in her back deepens, gyrating her hips at the hilt to further the connection - your thumbs dig in the crease of her legs. You drag her forward. She moans again. “Shame on you, I should say no the next time-” 

“But you won’t.” 

“No. No. I won’t.” Gaeul huffs into your cheek, sighs once more when you’re kissing her throat. 

You’re fucking her brains into a puddle and somehow you’re still wondering how she can still think straight - ignoring the fact that her body’s split open and folding through on slap of your hips onto the next- 

“I won’t. Not ever.” She mumbles, whimpering. “I- can’t get enough of this dick. I can never get enough of your dick.” 

“Really?” You’re asking acerbically.

She shakes her head, and you give her a nice hot kiss, priming her head at an angle where you both prefer it to be: and she slips her tongue between your lips, groaning and melting on top of your body, pressing her knees to the sides of your thighs and her cunt in this sliding friction across your cock. She’s terrible at keeping secrets, a truth even - trying to convince you otherwise that she doesn’t like when you’re working her so well her face flushes, aching while leaking her endless slick onto your skin. Your mouth, hands, and cock all give her these waves of bliss, hitting the points all at once where her body blooms and she doesn’t know what to do next. 

You slam her ass back on your balls that her hips spazz out, grinding another climax out of her while she screams; a live wire is what she is, purring and gasping once you’ve triggered that reaction. 

“Like that,” she tells you, at this point, her arrogance is fucked out. Then, her lip is between her teeth, puffing out, bites her teeth together: “that’s so fucking good.” 

“Yeah?” and you feel her fingers slither back into your hair, assisting in the lift of her lower half back down - she’s spiraling. “So good for me, love, baby. Oh, baby-” 

She rattles her head when you’re sliding your hips further forward, the press of Gaeul’s knees moving up to the sides of your stomach. “Nuh uh,” she hisses; the angle is too good for her, impaling her from below she can’t breathe at the top, cunt nicely forming around your cock so deep-” 

“Not the love bullshit, no.” Gaeul chuckles, giddy, mouth canvasing your shoulder. Sighing, whispering, swallowing her hums.

You raise and yank her back down. The whine is one part of the whole symphony. 

“Like- love. What the fuck - so soft. God-” 

“Look who’s talking,” you growl. A curse spills from your lips. She’s a fucking waterfall that it’s unbelievable. The tightness alone for the first time would make anybody an instant addict. And you’re bent on the fact that cumming inside Gaeul is your inevitable demise - her walls clamping in increments around your shaft that every slap of skin and swallow of your throat brings you closer. “I’m giving you what you want, no? All you have to do is just take it - like a nice, little, whore-” 

She wheezes, giggling where it gets caught between a coo and a hum of approval.

“-my little cocksleeve, good god-” you hear yourself say, and the bump of Gaeul’s head into yours can hide so much of her flushed cheeks. “So beautiful, ruined for me, my little nymph come to life. You love this cock so much, wanting to be full of cum, lapping it up like a cute puppy-” 

You’re not sure what you’re saying at this point, but Gaeul keeps on laughing, rolling her hips forward and backward. She lifts herself halfway, falls right back in. Exhales. You know what’s coming; what’s about to happen. Her legs lock up, jaw slacked - hung in suspense. She’s breathing where you could see on her shoulders, leans forward with a turn in her ear: 

“My little sex kitten, how bout that?” 

Skeptical, Gaeul sighs; sucking in her stomach while her head turns the other direction, showing some of that fading self-control and common sense. 

“Okay, that’s. Oh-” she tries telling you, shying away. Her hand goes to yours, continuing the motion, sloppily, letting out a lazy grin and bouncing your name off your lips as her body leans back and into your control. “Rushed, I think. Maybe. Not sure- need more- to get used-” 

“Gaeul.” There's no hiding it anymore, you’re too dumbfucked out of your own mind to turn back now. She seethes out another cry, making you tilt your lips to a devilish smile. “Poor thing, so dirty. A naughty little squirrel that can’t get enough of my nut, huh? Look at you, so wet and filthy, making a mess all over the place-” 

Yeah, she broke you. You’ve gotten so twisted because of her - no point in mincing words here. 

“Fuck, okay, please, that’s too much-” 

You can’t stop - you just can’t. Her cunt is so close to squeezing you, numbing your mind until she drains you completely. 

The pace is painstakingly slow, the rise and fall of her hips with every pump inside her, nails clawing your skin away at the bridge of your shoulders. It becomes- too much, the way your cock stuffs her tiny pussy until that edge is finally reached, the heat cranked up way past eleven, the desire to take it written all over her face and body.

“Want it,” she chokes out. Her cunt creates this pocket of air inside where the noise is just utterly wrong. “Please.” 

Her eyes water, fluttering.

“I hear you, darling. I know.” 

“Ah, yes. You-” 

Her head lolls forward, lazily. You wrap your arms around her waist and guide her back onto the sheets, slip yourself out and roll her over until her ass is in view. She peers over her shoulder, watching you mount her thighs, pull her hips up and slide a pillow into the open space created, laying back down and bury your cock back in her creaming cunt, kneading the handful of ass in your palm before testing the depth again. 

You notice her shoulders bunch up to her neck, hands gripping the sheets when you’re leaning back down to her face.

“Fight me,” you whisper down her ear, “if it’s too much.” Gaeul shakes her head at the drag of your shaft, driving back in with a firm thrust that makes her gasp for air - bites down a moan into the blankets beneath her. You’re pinning her into the bed frame so harshly you don’t even care if you break it. 

Her hand shoots back to your arm, grabbing. The slaps of skin pick up in rhythm, maintaining a tempo. You reach out for her hair and lift her head, releasing a few moans before her breaths also start to become more staccatoed- 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t- hhn-” 

You’re having too much fun for your sake. Though, you can’t blame yourself in this situation. This was what Gaeul wanted, and she got it. A second later you’re pressing her head back down into the bedding, bend that arch in her lower back a bit deeper where your cock can carve its way down to the hottest point where she can take it. Her mewling and crying rise in volume and you only have the slap of your hips to hers serving as this undertone to her song. 

“Where,” you sputter, because you know the limit’s about to be reached. “Where do you want me-” 

Gaeul turns her head back; you can’t even see her lips move when she says it: “Inside.” 

So you coil your arms around her waist and flush your chest to her back. “If that’s what my kitty wants.” 

You raise the pace then and there. Fucking her tight little cunt as if you finally created the theory in your head into breaking Gaeul. It doesn’t take much for someone smart to put the pieces together: all you need is a nice hold of her ass, impaling your cock deep where you can take it, sliding in and out of her walls with such precision that you’ll empty every fiber in your body to satisfy both her and yourself. 

You’re experimenting with the position of her body - deep into the mattress, lift her upper half where both deepens the arch of her pussy, nudging your cock where her walls can clinch and clench along the member - working so seamlessly to bring that orgasm to the front. There’s only one thing left to do now: to pound and bounce her ass and cunt all over your cock until you spill all of it inside her open pink hole. You’re gonna drain everything in your balls deep into Gaeul’s cunt until she’s whining from the mixture of tension and shaking, growling so loud that you’ll wake the neighbors on the upper and lower floors. 

The pulsing, shooting rope after rope and after rope of cum inside her. She’s moaning in relief at the feeling while you’re still pooling, head spinning so fast that you’re finally on the same page as her: ruined, and thoroughly fucked. 

“T’so warm,” she mumbles sleepily. “And thick-“ 

The slamming of your hips keeps you conscious. “Gaeul, this cunt, baby, so fucking incredible.” 

An angel falling from the heavens. Would anyone ever believe it if you told the things you did with her? 

When you do slide out of her well-fucked-and-worked-cunt, you can’t help yourself still and slip inside again, coating your cock mixed in with her slick and your cum. You watch when you pull your tip away from her folds, the sheen of white coming out of her slit - the whole image of her backside is a picture-perfect painting right here in your sheets: her puffy pussy lips, the beet red spread across the breadth of her ass, bruises on bruises across the plane of her back, hair in this half and half of a bun and wavy locks. You then run your hand across your length, wipe the mess on the person who created it, and look at her while she rolls on her back with her arms raised. 

You’ll also think about treating her; cleaning her up in the shower; dry her hair, swaddle her in a towel, carry her around your place, clean every spot and cranny - worshiping her curves and mounds until she’s willing to be broken apart and put back together again. A girl made to be ruined, an endless experiment you want to keep forever. 

“See?” She laughs, running a finger along her folds, collecting her reward, licking it off her fingertips before cupping her palm gently along your cock, slowly rubbing you to get a few more drops out of you. Her tongue runs across her lips, almost like she’s gonna drool again and it’s just fucking terrible, but you love it. “Can’t you think the wonders of you breeding my poor, sorry, cunt-” 

Part of you wants to shut her up with your dick. She’s so forward with the intent and doesn't care about the consequences. It’s dangerous. You’re thinking ahead of how she’ll look with the ribbons of cum spread all over her body, on her face, in her hair. Sick and twisted it is, and she cups your sack - gasping at the sudden weight of it still. 

Soon. You need a breather and push yourself away. 

She flails her arms and legs around like some kid throwing a tantrum, groaning. 

But she smiles and shies away; not nervous, but happy. “Fuck me,” she swears where she feels relaxed and unbound by any worry. You bring yourself down to her and try to kiss her cheek, but she turns her head away with her hand pushing your face. 

“Nope,” she tells you, softly laughing, “I don’t think you’ve earned it. Should’ve fucked me harder.” 

This girl is a problem. 

You pinch her cheek and start poking her stomach, the bubbliness coming to life. She can’t stay in one place the more you tap your fingers all over her body. She’s very ticklish. 

“Poor kitty,” you remark, because you notice her smile and tucked lip, watch the butterflies flutter in her stomach, and when you’re patting her thigh she doesn’t bother retaliating, since the idea’s set in her mind that there’s no further objection. 

“Didn’t you say,” she sighs, voice beaming, face pink and clutching her waist. “You like it when I’m like this, making you stupid that way you’ll just pound me at the end of it? Y’know, pinning me into the mattress. Gotta say, the-” 

“Gaeul, please.” She knows that you’re amused, smiling. “Get up. Go shower, you’re dirty.” 

“No no,” she replies, shaking her head. You stare into her eyes while her legs spread, causing you to look down and scrunch your nose. Her head tips back, trails her fingers up her chest, traces around the nipple, some of her hair falls in front. “If you’re the one who made the mess, you should make the effort to clean me up again.” 

You make a note of the upsetting attitude - maybe forward it to Yujin since she knows a little more about Gaeul out of annoyance. 

Yujin didn’t give you the full report, anyway: about how Gaeul’s the kind of girl that functions over good food, drinks, and a proper dicking down without even considering the whirlwind of logistics she’ll mess up. You should’ve seen the signs. You should’ve known who you’re dealing with. 

“What’s wrong?” Gaeul asks, grinning, relaxing her back while you pull her by the thighs, bringing her closer. You thumb her knee, considering. The warning signs are there - just waiting for everything to come apart. 

She gives you an eye smile while you’re rolling yours, guiding your hand up her inner thigh, stopping right at her pussy lips. It’s draining. A headache. You’ll be sleepless in the morning because you can’t admit Gaeul’s the reason for staying up so late. “Only gonna say it once,” you tell her. “Shower comes first.” 

You say, but your body does otherwise, scooching forward where your finger hovers right above her clit. Though you gently press your palm right above her hip, noticing how sweaty she is - or maybe it’s the spread slick from her thighs; you can’t tell, the slide of it has you in disbelief. 

“I think you can give me one more,” Gaeul suggests, rolling on her stomach, forming the arch so tantalizing you force yourself to look away, knees spreading and her feet flush - imploring without really saying anything because you know she won’t stop and there’s nothing you can do about it. Her teeth peek through her cunning smirk, fully pleased. “Forget about putting another condom on, ‘cause like- god. I know you love how my pretty little pussy lips wrap around your cock when you’re cumming in me anyway.” 

It’s a genesis of sorts: the beginning of an unending madness. A world which you cannot escape - nor want to. 

–

Everything is a mess: you, your place, your work with Yujin. Gaeul comes by every other day - except when she’s swamped with schoolwork where she pops the idea of going on a romantic getaway or a staycation, hiding yourself away from the world and fucking her stupid until she’s sleepy. 

Here’s the thing. 

It’s when you’re with friends- or just you and her, wandering around the city, she’s the calmest, reserved girl you’ve ever seen. Much like she puts on a mask or appearance during the day and nobody seems to notice. Her clothes are much in line with yours, and pulling your face for a kiss - well, to milk the moment, you suppose - curling her fingers across your cheek, eyes so full of her that they’re crossing against each other at the press of her forehead with yours. 

There’s something here. You’re certain that it’s already been found. An exploration of these moments and experiences and the gut feeling rest well in your mind. You ponder, maybe it’s meant to be. This was all for fun at some point too. Maybe, also, that might not be the case. 

You deem it too early to say you love her, but the reciprocating kisses she gives you make you think otherwise, every single time, and you give into her little smile. 

If you or her mean it, one of you will say the words eventually. 

–

“So? What are we thinking? You reckon we’ll get it this time?” Yujin says, optimistic. You picture her with her feet propped up on something or in the air, it sounds like it. 

“Well, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” You answer, “Oh- by the way, Gaeul wanted to come along for the final set of tests. Are you okay with that?” 

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” 

“Awesome.” 

Silence builds up on the line. 

“Aren’t you gonna tell me how she is?” Yujin prods, teasingly with a tone higher than usual. “C’monnnnn, I wanna know-” 

“Why would I? My business with Gaeul is not information to share.” 

“Boooooo.” 

“What?” 

“You and her haven’t given me credit for setting you guys up,” says Yujin. “Some of the details can be left out - for obvious reasons. She’s been telling me good things about you.” 

You smile at that. 

“Okay, to be honest, she’s amazing. I haven’t had an issue with her since our date and well- I don’t need to explain more for you to figure the rest out.” 

“Tell me more later when I see you two, but from what it sounds like, I think you struck your luck out with this one. She’s a real keeper.” 

Seeking out an Andromeda wasn’t on the cards, but you’re happy enough to have it fall right on your lap. 

It’s something special to cherish. 

–

Gaeul watches from a distance, admiring the image of you in your element. 

Yujin looks closely at the screen readings while you’re peering into the telescope, following along to the proper adjustment in getting the coordinates right. There’s a double check - then a triple check - glancing at the image presented. She smiles when you give her a nod of approval, looking back over at Gaeul who stares right back. 

Gaeul appears stoic, but you can tell that she was a little bit nervous for you. If things didn’t go well today, it wasn’t going to be the end of the world, but you know deep down that she wants you to succeed - and you do too. 

“We have something,” you’re telling her when you reach the bottom of the steps, rubbing her elbow for comfort. “Wanna come take a look?” 

She bites her lip, eyes tilting down, and nods. 

You kiss her knuckle and bring her up. 

Minutes later, she’s where you were: through the looking glass while Yujin slides her chair over pointing at the mix of greenish blue in the middle of the vast blackness of space. “Looks new, seems lightyears away from us. Have we finally got it?” 

“Judging from what the professor was telling us, nobody is claiming this one yet.” 

Yujin taps your shoulder before leaving to call up her mentor. 

Gaeul still looks into the scope, smiling when she feels your arms wrap around her waist, laughing softly. 

“It’s beautiful,” she tells you, “I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

The night sky shines above the observatory, light funneling through the opening as a natural spotlight, illuminating the glow reflected on her perfect skin. You look at her as if you’d turn into stone when you look away. She looks at you like everything just makes sense - a safe place where she can find comfort in, realizing what she said was already made true, but she doesn’t know that. 

“You speak for yourself? Or?” 

She hits your arm, and you’re smiling like an idiot. 

“Do you have a name for it?” Gaeul asks, turning around so that she’s properly facing you. You’re still trying to figure out how she can look so pretty - so effortlessly; it’s something that you’ll dedicate a whole lot of time to study, see if you can find the answer in her eyes, or her body- 

“Not yet,” you answer. “It'll take some time to pick, but- I’m open to recommendations.” 

She nods, quickly flashing her eyes to see if there was anyone within earshot, pensive. “I got nothing so far, but I’m willing to jog your mind if you’re it.” 

“Gaeul,” you say, sternly, grip tightening on her lower back. “What’re you implying, hm?” 

“All I’m saying is that I can be a great help for you in that bathroom downstairs. Unless you want to step outside, get some fresh air - the breeze is so nice up here, and no one will hear me because of the crickets-” 

“Minx,” you’re saying again. She sighs with her mouth parted, working herself right off the bat. “Now’s not the time, you were good for me earlier. Plus, your ass is still sore, I know why you didn’t want to sit down in the first place.” 

Gaeul nicks her head up, lifts her eyebrows. You’re flashing the image in your head of earlier: her being soaked in your cum, mouth swollen and makeup ruined, naked with a pair of cat ears in her hair and wrists handcuffed to the edge of your bed. It’s been a few hours since then, but nothing’s stopping the urge from burning through your pants- 

“Said you did a good job spanking me, did I?” 

“You know my answer.” 

“Touché.” 

You shake your head and press your lips to her crown. Patting her head and rubbing her shoulder while she puts her thumb on her chin, carelessly minding her own business while you’re treating her; mind already tired and with the amount of pictures and papers and telescopes too complicated to listen to in a firm explanation, she’s unbothered. She pats your back twice to make you stop. 

“We’re still grabbing drinks with Yujin after, right?” Gaeul asks, remembering the offer. “Her treat?” 

“She’s a terrible liar,” you chuckle, “The tab’s on me.” 

–

It’s all a process. 

Day by day. The concept of love is not a linear path; getting to know someone and revealing the pieces, building that trust with a significant other, infatuated about the secrets and intricacies that you’ll take to your grave once they’re shared, seen, and spoken. 

You’re up late nights, peering into your bedroom to see her legs tangled around a pillow. On certain days she comes home excited, jumping onto you at the door to times when she’s tired, and you’re piggybacking her inside because that’s what she likes. When she’s with Yujin, she’s normally quiet and laid-back - but with you, she’s all over the place. Telling you these unholy things that you don’t expect her to know when you’re fucking her into the bed; the way her voice sounds when she’s praising you. She goes around like her own little planet, full of wonderful things. She likes vinyls and vintage stuff and prefers to run outside when it’s raining. You let her steal your glasses because she looks better in them. Her smile is infectious. The way that she tousles and turns when you’re kissing every corner of her body and telling her all the things that she wants to hear. You’ve got the backlog filled out.  

Spread her legs apart, have her sit up, ride your face. Break down those fragile walls until she’s completely sucked into your embrace. Gaeul desires a lot of things that you can try to give - the wonders of the world, a bigger picture - something that you’ll pull down from above and have her keep for the sentiment. 

You’ll keep the fact that she’s somebody who wants to be ruined - get chaotic and a tad sadistic. She prefers the punishment over the crime. 

–

Nights like these, it feels like some kind of mistake when Gaeul brings you over to her place. 

There’s nothing bad happening whatsoever, you just feel the knife twist a little more when you can’t go inside because last time Liz and her other roommate caught you and her red-handed on the couch, even after having the assurance that they wouldn’t be home until later. It wouldn’t feel wrong to hug her, kiss her goodbye, knowing that you’ll probably see her around on campus in the afternoon later. 

Gaeul gazes into your eyes earnestly, as if she didn’t want to go back in yet, hoping that you’ll take her away and carry her back to your apartment. A wish she made on a passing star and praying it comes true. With those white thigh highs she’s wearing, you’ll make that dream a reality in a heartbeat. 

“How long have we been friends for again?” She asks, tugging on your jacket, slipping your hands around her hips. She’ll take wherever she can, you know her well. “Hard to believe that we’d be together. You know, like this.” 

“Do I need to remind you who made the first move?” 

“Fuck you.” She slaps your chest as part of the response. “I was trying to have a moment with you. So shut up.” 

“Okay, I will, please continue.” You lift your shoulders in surrender. “For the record, I’d like to take most of the credit, since I asked and all that.” 

Gaeul rolls her eyes to the back of her head. That was her whole plan from the start - had you not said anything to her, she wouldn’t be here taunting you; while being so quiet and pretty that it’s hard to combine the two. 

“Depends on who asks,” she begins. Her cheeks rise, veneers highlighted. She throws everything out in your head with ease - one hint or subtle suggestion and the common thoughts get brushed aside. That’s a you problem. More so of a bigger problem compared to hers. She can read your expressions like a book. 

So you say: “Are you asking?” 

You keep looking at her, like you did back in the museum, wondering all of the pretty little things that differentiate her from the rest; her side profile, the bunny-heart-shaped-ears, how her lips purse together almost like a pout; it’s like you’re seeing some cosmic pareidolia. Kind of like putting fragments together from your dream. 

Gaeul tilts her head, pondering. “If you are, then I’d agree with what you’re saying,” she tells you, kissing your cheek and stepping inside her apartment.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Glen Powell Imagine: From Scream Queens to Twisters

The press tour for Twisters had been a whirlwind—city after city, interview after interview, question after question. But for you and Glen? This wasn’t your first rodeo.

You’d known each other for nearly a decade, ever since you starred in Scream Queens together. You, the lead actress who carried the show with your razor-sharp delivery and undeniable screen presence. Glen, your on-screen love interest who played the cocky yet charming character that fans adored. Off-screen, that chemistry had turned into something real. Now, years later, you were both back in the spotlight, co-leading a major blockbuster—and still just as in love.

Sitting side by side on a plush couch during yet another interview, Glen’s arm draped casually along the backrest behind you. The interviewer grinned, looking between you both.

“Okay, let’s talk about the elephant in the room,” they said. “You two have played love interests before, back in Scream Queens.”

You smirked, knowing exactly where this was going. “Oh, we remember.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, that was my first taste of working with her, and let’s be real—I was doomed from the start.”

The interviewer laughed. “So you knew back then?”

“I knew back then,” Glen confirmed, stealing a glance at you. “But she took her sweet time figuring it out.”

You nudged him playfully. “I had priorities.”

“Uh-huh,” Glen teased. “Big TV star, rockstar, multi-award-winning artist—you had things to do before settling for me.”

The interviewer’s eyebrows shot up. “I wouldn’t call Glen Powell ‘settling.’”

“Oh, I know,” you said, reaching over to rest a hand on Glen’s knee. “I just had to make him work for it.”

Glen grinned, placing his hand over yours. “And now she’s stuck with me.”

The interview moved on, but the knowing glances, the way he absentmindedly played with the rings on your fingers, the way you leaned into his touch—it was all there. You weren’t acting. You never had been.

Later That Night – Hotel Balcony

The city skyline stretched before you, lights twinkling as you sipped your drink. Behind you, Glen stepped onto the balcony, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest.

“Another day, another round of ‘How did you two fall in love?’” you mused.

Glen chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “You’d think they’d know by now.”

You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. “They just love the story.”

He smiled, brushing his fingers along your cheek. “I do too.”

You tilted your head. “Oh yeah? What’s your favorite part?”

Glen pretended to think. “Probably the part where I got to kiss my rockstar crush on national television every week and then somehow convinced her to date me in real life.”

You laughed. “And now we’re here.”

“Now we’re here,” he echoed, leaning in until your noses brushed. “Bigger movie, bigger stage, same love story.”

You smiled against his lips. “And you’re still trying to charm me.”

Glen smirked. “Always.”

And when he kissed you, it felt just like it had back then—like a scene you never wanted to end.

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.15): still silent - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

an; hi guys! as this series (almost) comes to an end.. i was wondering where you'd want it to end off. i was thinking around 20 chapters total? also, lmk if you guys have any requests for future smau series!

part 14 - part 15 - part 16

it’s been a month. a month of you and rafe completely ignoring each other, refusing to even acknowledge the other exists, and week since midsummers. and at first, maybe it made sense—whatever happened that night at midsummers clearly meant something, and neither of them has ever been good at handling feelings they don’t understand. but now? now it’s just getting weird, and sarah and topper can tell.

sarah watches as roni scrolls through her phone, pretending to be unbothered, but it’s obvious. every time rafe’s name comes up, she rolls her eyes a little too hard, scoffs a little too loudly, like she needs everyone to know just how much she doesn’t care. except she keeps bringing him up. she keeps letting him take up space in her head, even if it’s just to talk shit.

topper sees it in rafe too. he doesn’t talk about her at all. won’t even say her name, won’t react when she’s mentioned, like if he ignores it long enough, whatever happened between them will just disappear. but his grip tightens on his beer when kelce makes a joke about her, his shoulders tense when she’s in the same room. he pretends he doesn’t care, but topper knows better.

it’s been a week since midsummers, and they’re both still pretending. it’s getting pathetic. so, naturally, sarah and topper come to the same conclusion: if roni and rafe won’t fix it themselves, they’ll have to do it for them.

sarahs phone:

sarah and topper had their backs against the wall. they’d spent weeks trying to get roni and rafe to talk, to no avail. silence hung thick between them, and it wasn’t just awkward—it was unbearable. the two were still at each other's throats, and every attempt to get them to open up had failed. so, they resorted to what they knew best: a little sabotage.

rafe's phone:

the plan was in motion.

sarah had been dropping hints about the party to you for days, acting like it was just a casual get-together. she didn’t not mention that rafe would be there—just dodged the question because, well, thats not technically lying, and that would’ve been too much of a spoiler. she figured if you didn’t know what to expect, maybe you'd be more inclined to show up. no promises. just a party, a little distraction, nothing major.

topper had his own way of handling things. with rafe, it was a matter of wearing him down, pretending it wasn’t a big deal, until rafe caved. when topper told him kelce was throwing a party, he tried to play it cool, not biting at first. but topper’s casual, almost indifferent tone eventually cracked rafe’s stubbornness.

it wasn’t until later that both sarah and topper realized how messy this could get. neither of them told you and rafe about the other attending. they didn’t want to stir the pot too much. but they also knew that, after everything, getting you two in the same space might be the only way to get them to face what they were too afraid to deal with. which, they weren't even sure what exactly it was that happened between you two.

tags: @italk2god@angelicameron@marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43@idiotussupremus@sereneera@yesshewrites1@inlovewithchriss@ethanthequeefqueen@amterasuu@popou61@drewsstars@yannew@anothertimegirl@flvredcas@yootvi@mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial@cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa@6r4cie@adalia-lovelace@bee-43@drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna@lcversvoid@my-name-is-baby@lolasangelz@polli05927@laniirackssss @rafecameronswifeyy @starsval@hypnotizedstarkey@wintercrows@d-daxx@dontknow3m@jjasmiineee @Chillgal135 @princesspeaxhh@moonywhisp3rs

[whirlpool-blogs]

‘born with the condition that touching other people causes them physical pain’ + clegan anyone??? Gale grows up isolated because every time he tried to play with the neighborhood kids, they’d run away crying and screaming that he had hurt them, even though all he’d done was try to play tag or play pretend soldiers. His own mother carefully pats him on the shoulder through his shirt, and certainly never risks a hug. Gale wants to join the fight for his country, but can’t risk living in the cramped quarters of a Navy ship or side-by-side in a trench with infantry. So he decides to become a fighter pilot, where you sit in the cockpit alone. And you live and you breathe and you fight and you die alone in that cockpit, too.

Until he walks into flight school and meets John Egan. And here’s the thing — John is touchy. Gale is so nervous on his first day, he completely forgets to warn his roommate about his ‘condition’. Except the strangest thing happens — John shakes his hand, and throws an arm over his shoulders and…he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t scream or wince or accuse Gale of trying to hurt him. It’s as though….Gale’s touch doesn’t affect him.

Eventually, when they’re talking about girls late at night, Gale admits that he’s a virgin. After all, how can you have sex when even brushing against someone’s elbow in the street sends them screaming? Since John is impervious, he offers to show Gale what it’s like.

They hook up. They keep hooking up. It’s kind of fucking mind-blowing. And it also breaks Gale’s heart, because he’s convinced John is only doing this for him as a favor, not because he actually likes him. (Meanwhile John is convinced that Gale is only letting him do this because it’s the only option Gale has, not because Gale actually likes him back…)

So they stop hooking up. Gale finds a nice Christian girl from home who is saving herself for marriage, and they write letters but never meet up. John goes back to casually sleeping around. (Both of them are seething with jealousy.) They’re just friends. It’s fine. They can be friends.

Then it’s winter in the stalag, and John is the only possible option to bunkshare with Gale. As they cling to each other for warmth, Gale finally admits that he’s not really planning to meet up with that Casper girl in any real way. And John admits that none of his hookups ever felt the same as he feels for Gale. Buck, he says, I just wanna touch you forever.

[awkward-walking-potato]

You asked I deliver lol. Deadpool request: what about exes wade and reader that see each other after the break up and the talk between them ends hopeful? 🤭🤭♥️🖤♥️🖤

Lipstick and Heartache

Deadpool didn’t do grocery shopping. Not usually. That was one of the perks of having a blind roommate—she never knew when you brought home takeout instead of the ingredients you were supposed to buy. But today was different. Today, he’d lost a bet with Logan, and now here he was, pushing a cart down the cereal aisle, pretending he wasn’t contemplating murder by Frosted Flakes.

Logan was ahead of him, growling something about the price of beef jerky, while Blind Al was arguing with an innocent store clerk over the alleged existence of a non-alcoholic whiskey. Wade was zoning out, mentally debating which flavor of Pop-Tarts could be weaponized the best, when it happened.

He saw you.

You were standing by the produce section, examining a bunch of bananas with the kind of focus Wade usually reserved for choosing between chimichangas or tacos. His heart did a weird little flip-flop in his chest—like it always did whenever he saw you—but this time it was followed by a pang of something darker. Regret.

It had been months since he ended things. Months since he decided that his life was too dangerous for someone like you. Someone good. He thought he was doing the right thing, letting you go, keeping you safe from the chaos that seemed to follow him like a shadow. But it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, and judging by the way his chest ached just looking at you, it hadn’t gotten any easier.

You glanced up, your eyes catching his. For a moment, everything around him blurred—Logan’s grumbling, Al’s cursing, the mundane bustle of the grocery store—all of it faded into the background. It was just you and him.

And then, you smiled.

“Wade?” you called out, clearly surprised but pleased to see him. You set the bananas down and walked over, your steps confident, casual, like you hadn’t been haunting his thoughts since the day he walked out.

He put on his best grin, the one that was just a bit too wide, a bit too cocky. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite fruit ninja,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “How’ve you been, beautiful?”

“Good,” you replied, stopping just a foot away from him. “And you? I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this. I thought grocery stores weren’t your style.”

He chuckled, glancing at Logan, who was now glaring at a stack of canned beans like they’d personally insulted him. “Oh, I’m just here to supervise the world’s angriest lumberjack and pick out some adult diapers for Al. You know, the usual.”

You laughed, and the sound hit him like a warm breeze. It was familiar and comforting, but also a reminder of everything he’d been missing. “Sounds about right,” you said, your eyes softening as they met his again. “I’ve missed your sense of humor, Wade.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to keep it together. “Yeah, well, it’s a package deal with the stunning good looks and the terrible life choices,” he joked, though his voice cracked just a little on the last part.

You looked at him for a moment, like you were trying to read something in his eyes. “I always liked the package,” you said softly, and it was like someone reached into his chest and squeezed.

He wanted to say something—anything—to keep you here, to explain why he’d done what he did, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, staring at you, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for ever letting you go.

Sensing the shift in his mood, you smiled gently and reached up, your fingers brushing against his masked cheek. “I’ve got to go, Wade,” you said, and before he could protest, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He froze, every nerve in his body buzzing as you pulled back, leaving a perfect imprint of your lipstick on his cheek. “Take care of yourself, okay?” you whispered, giving his hand a quick squeeze before turning and walking away.

He watched you go, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. It wasn’t until you disappeared around the corner that he realized he was still standing there, like an idiot, with a goofy grin on his face.

“Nice lipstick, Romeo,” Logan grunted, sidling up beside him with a smirk. “You gonna frame that or what?”

Wade blinked, reaching up to touch his cheek where your kiss still lingered. “Shut up, honey Badger,” he muttered, trying and failing to sound annoyed. But the truth was, he couldn’t stop smiling, even as he felt the blush creeping up his neck.

Blind Al’s voice came from behind them. “What’s this I hear about him getting a smooch? Did hell freeze over or is Wade actually getting some action?”

Wade rolled his eyes, turning to push the cart down the aisle. “It’s nothing, just a little fan service,” he quipped, trying to play it off, but his heart wasn’t in it. His mind was still replaying that moment over and over again, the feel of your lips on his cheek, the look in your eyes when you said goodbye.

Logan chuckled, grabbing a pack of beer and tossing it into the cart. “Yeah, well, if that’s what you call ‘nothing,’ then you’ve got it bad, Wilson. Real bad.”

Wade didn’t respond, too lost in thought to come up with a snarky comeback. Instead, he let himself savor the memory of your kiss, the warmth of your touch, and the bittersweet ache of knowing that, for a moment, you were his again.

Even if it was just a moment.

“Hey, Wade,” Al called out as they headed toward the checkout. “You think you’ll ever grow a pair and actually talk to her about why you ended things?”

Wade sighed, the smile finally fading as reality set in. “Maybe, Al. Maybe one day,” he said quietly, knowing full well that day might never come.

But for now, he had your kiss on his cheek, and that was enough to keep him going—at least until the next time fate decided to throw you back into his life.

And as they walked out of the grocery store, Logan and Al still teasing him mercilessly, Wade couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, he was a little bit closer to you, even if it was just in his heart.

And damn, if that didn’t feel like the best thing in the world.

[kathlare]

sunkissed entanglement

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the aftermath of a disappointing race for Lando, Amelie steps in to comfort him, navigating the fragile space between them.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

August 1st, 2021 - Mogyoród, Hungary

liked by lanelieshippers, f1gossipgirl, and others

amelieupdates: Spotted: Amelie looking as stunning as ever at the paddock today in Hungary! Always a vibe when she’s around. 🌟

View all 1,382 comments

f1tea: Does this mean we’re about to get some Amelie & Lando content? 👀 → speedyboi44: @f1tea We can only dream! Hope they’re hanging out together this weekend... I miss the old vibes 💔 → f1tea: @speedyboi44 Same!! Honestly, they need to stop teasing us. If they’re gonna flirt, just let us see it lol

landoandamelie4ever: Amelie at the paddock?? Does this mean we’ll finally get to see some cute moments with Lando? 💕 → racequeen101: @landoandamelie4ever If they’re gonna act like friends, then can they at least be flirty friends? They have that chemistry 😭

gpaddict28: People still hate on Amelie when she’s literally just vibing with her friends?? Get a life! → checoperezfan: @gpaddict28 Tell me about it. She’s here supporting her fam and friends, and people still can’t let go of the past. 🤦‍♀️

racefan123: Amelie really knows how to bring the energy to the paddock! Always adds something to the atmosphere.

lndolover99: Amelie + Lando = best combo! They might be keeping it low-key, but we all know what’s up. 🔥 → f1fan_321: @lndolover99 Exactly, they’ve always had that “will they, won’t they” vibe. It’s honestly cute to watch.

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

The Hungarian Grand Prix weekend had been a disaster for Lando, and Amelie knew that. She had heard the whispers from the pit lane, seen the disappointment in Lando's eyes when he walked out of the garage after the race. A DNF in Hungary was not the result anyone had hoped for, especially not for him. But she didn’t care about the race outcome—she cared about him.

Amelie hadn’t planned on seeing him after the chaos of the race, but as soon as she walked out of the Red Bull garage, there was only one thing on her mind: finding Lando.

She quickened her pace, weaving through the crowds of mechanics, drivers, and staff. She had one goal—get to Lando, check on him, and hopefully get him to talk.

With determination, she reached her destination—the McLaren motorhome. The pass Lando had given her months ago to gain access was still on her, and she flashed it at the guard at the door. He nodded without question.

Once inside, the atmosphere was almost surreal—quiet compared to the buzz outside. She walked through the corridors quickly, her boots clicking on the floor, until she reached the driver’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open without hesitation.

The sound of running water greeted her—Lando was in the shower. Amelie sighed, leaning back against the doorframe as she pulled out her phone. Scrolling mindlessly through messages, she felt her thoughts wander. It had been a weird couple of weeks. Nothing had been straightforward between them since the breakup. The way they pretended not to be something they clearly were. They couldn’t seem to stay away from each other, but neither of them had the courage to talk about what it all meant.

Amelie absentmindedly tapped her phone, her thoughts drifting to how complicated things had gotten between them. The casual arrangement they’d slipped back into after the breakup in May was barely enough to keep the tension from strangling them both. They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t have to. But the constant game of pretending to be “just friends” was wearing thin on her.

She could hear the water cut off, and instinctively, her heart picked up speed. It was absurd. They’d been here before, in the same tangled mess, pretending they didn’t want more than what they were offering.

The door creaked open, and Lando stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His hair was damp and messy, a contrast to the usually perfect, clean-cut image he liked to maintain. But today, everything about him seemed off. His eyes, tired and frustrated, locked onto her for a moment, and then his expression shifted into one of annoyance.

—What are you doing here?— he snapped, pulling the towel tighter around his waist as he walked toward the small dresser.

Amelie raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his abruptness. —Nice to see you too, Lando.—

—Not in the mood for this right now, Amelie.—

She crossed her arms, watching him as he rummaged through his bag. The tension in the air thickened, the same old pattern starting to emerge. He had this horrible attitude whenever things didn’t go his way, and she knew it. But what else was new?

—Lando, come on— she stepped closer, keeping her voice calm. —You’re not fooling anyone with that act. I’m not here to cause a scene. I just want to check on you. You’re clearly pissed off about the race—

—It’s not just about the race.— His voice dropped a little, still edged with frustration. He spun around to face her, his hands finding the edge of the dresser. —It’s everything. This whole fucking thing.—

Amelie watched him closely, her expression softening. She’d seen him like this before—lost in his own head, frustrated with the world around him, trying to hold everything together when he couldn’t. She’d learned how to handle him when he was like this.

—Hey, it’s just a race. It happens.— She moved forward, not giving him any chance to pull away. She reached up, gently cupping his face with her hand. —You’ll get them next time. But right now, I’m here, alright? Just... let me in. Let me help you calm down for a second.—

Lando’s eyes softened, just a fraction, but enough for Amelie to see the vulnerability hidden beneath the layers of frustration and anger. He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his wet hair, clearly torn.

—I don’t need anyone right now, Amelie— he muttered, though the heat in his voice was fading.

She didn’t back away, not this time. Instead, she took another step closer, closing the gap between them. Her hand trailed down his chest, and she watched the way his muscles tensed at her touch. She knew what he needed. She knew how to ease him.

Without a word, Amelie lifted her face to his, her lips brushing against his softly at first, testing, until he gave in and kissed her back. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in deeper, as his kiss grew hungry and desperate. The frustration, the disappointment—everything melted away between them, replaced by the intensity of what they shared.

She pulled away just slightly, her lips brushing his neck as she murmured, —You’re not alone, Lando. Never are, okay?—

Lando’s hands gripped her waist, and before she could respond, he was lifting her, spinning her around until she was sitting on the armrest of the small sofa in the room. His body followed hers, positioning her in his lap as he sat down, his hands firmly around her, keeping her close.

The tension between them wasn’t just physical. It was everything they had been skirting around for the past few months. But Amelie wasn’t about to make this more complicated than it already was. They weren’t talking about their feelings, not yet. Not when it still felt like there was too much unsaid between them.

Lando’s lips found hers again, harder this time, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed, pulling her in closer, as she melted into him, letting the world outside fade into nothing.

Just as things started to escalate, there was a knock at the door.

—Lando?— a voice came through the wood. —Interviews, man. You’re up next. You need to go.

Lando groaned, breaking the kiss reluctantly. —Fucking hell.— He looked over at Amelie, his expression filled with a mix of frustration and desire.

Amelie couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. She leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow. —Guess you’ve got to work, huh?—

—Yeah, yeah, I know— Lando muttered, running a hand through his damp hair in exasperation. He shot Amelie one last look, and she could see the mix of reluctance and amusement in his eyes.

She straightened up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her top and fixing her hair. —Better go, then, superstar. Can’t keep the media waiting. You know how it is. All those fans waiting for their Lando Norris fix.—

Lando rolled his eyes but reached out, grabbing her arm before she could fully turn away. —Amelie— he said quietly, his voice softer now, though still a bit hoarse from their earlier kiss. —Can I see you tonight?—

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a second, she hesitated. This was nothing new between them. They were in this weird, complicated space where nothing was defined, and yet, everything felt... undeniable. But there was a shift in his tone that made her second guess her usual carefree response.

She met his eyes, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she replied, —You know where to find me.—

Lando's grip tightened for just a moment, and he leaned in to kiss her again, a quick, lingering touch that made her pulse race. He then let her go, watching her leave with that familiar intensity in his eyes.

Amelie walked out of the driver’s room and back down the hallway, making her way toward the exit. Her thoughts were swirling. It had been a while since things had felt so intense between them. But she was determined not to let her mind go there, not yet.

As she stepped outside, the noise of the paddock hit her again, but it seemed muffled, distant. She had to focus—focus on getting back to the Red Bull garage, and not thinking too much about what had just happened with Lando. He was her friend, after all, even if everything else between them was far from simple.

But she couldn't help but feel a little something—a little flicker of excitement—that maybe, just maybe, they were inching closer to something neither of them could ignore anymore.

[janespink]

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 - 𝑀𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒮𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑜 Warnings: none

Summary: Y/N befriends her mysterious neighbor, Matt, only to discover during their date that he’s an escaped prisoner.

Author’s note: English is not my first language. Also the first ff i ever wrote

Moving to a new neighborhood wasn’t exactly how you planned to spend your summer. Your parents called it a “fresh start,” but to you, it just felt like being uprooted. Thankfully, you had Nate and Madi—your closest friends, who were more like family than anything else. They made the transition bearable. It was a quiet afternoon when you first noticed him. You were sitting on the front porch, scrolling through your phone, waiting for Nate and Madi to pick you up. Across the street, a guy around your age was unloading boxes from the back of a truck. He was 5’7 and lean, with a hoodie pulled over his head despite the warm weather. You didn’t mean to stare, but there was something intriguing about him—the way he moved quickly, almost like he didn’t want to be noticed. “Hey,” his voice cut through your thoughts, and your head snapped up. “Oh, uh… hi,” you stammered, caught off guard. “You just move in?” he asked, pausing with a box in his hands. His tone was casual, but his eyes studied you with interest. “Yeah, last week,” you replied, gesturing vaguely toward your house. “Looks like we’re neighbors.” He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess so. I’m Matt, by the way.” “Y/N,” you said, returning the smile. Before the conversation could go any further, Nate’s car pulled up, horn blaring obnoxiously. Madi stuck her head out of the passenger window, grinning. “Let’s go, Y/N!” “Coming!” you called, grabbing your bag. You glanced back at Matt, who gave you a quick wave before disappearing into his house.

Over the next few weeks, you saw more of Matt. It started with brief hellos when you passed each other on the street, then longer conversations whenever you found yourselves outside at the same time. He was easy to talk to—funny, thoughtful, and just a little bit mysterious. “How do you not have a single social media account?” you teased one evening as you sat on the porch steps, talking while the sun dipped below the horizon. Matt shrugged, a playful smirk on his face. “Guess I like keeping things simple. Besides, I prefer real connections over a bunch of likes and comments.” “Wow,” you said, pretending to be impressed. “Deep and philosophical. You’re really setting the bar high, Matt.” He laughed, the sound low and genuine. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

It wasn’t long before your friendship with Matt became a regular part of your life. Nate and Madi noticed, of course. “So, who’s the guy?” Madi asked one afternoon as the three of you hung out in Nate’s basement. “What guy?” you asked, feigning innocence. “Don’t play dumb,” Nate chimed in. “Madi saw you talking to some dude on your porch the other day. Spill.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face. “His name’s Matt. He just moved in next door.” “And?” Madi pressed, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “And… he’s nice,” you said with a shrug. Nate raised an eyebrow. “Nice, huh? That’s it?” “Yes, that’s it,” you said, hoping they’d drop the subject. But they didn’t. Over the next few days, they made it their mission to find out everything they could about Matt—much to your annoyance.

One evening, Matt surprised you by asking if you wanted to grab coffee. “Like… a date?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. A date.” You felt a blush creep up your cheeks but managed a smile. “Sure. I’d like that.” The next day, you told Nate and Madi about the date. “Finally!” Madi exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen.” Nate, however, looked less enthused. “I don’t know, Y/N. Are you sure about this guy? You barely know him.” “That’s what dates are for,” you said, brushing off his concern. “Just be careful, okay?” Nate said, his tone more serious than usual. “I will,” you promised, though you couldn’t understand why he was being so cautious.

The date started off perfectly. Matt picked a cozy little café tucked away from the busy streets, its warm lighting and soft music setting the perfect mood. “You’ve got good taste,” you said as you took a sip of your latte. “Glad you think so,” Matt said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. The conversation flowed easily, just like it always did with Matt. He told you about his favorite books and movies, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks. Halfway through the date, your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen to see a text from Nate. Nate: Call me ASAP. It’s important. Frowning, you quickly texted back. Y/N: Can’t. I’m on date. The response came almost instantly. Nate: Y/N, I’m serious. You need to see this. You sighed and opened the next message, which was a screenshot of a news article. The headline sent a chill down your spine: “Local Prisoner Escapes Custody: Police Warn Public to Stay Alert” Beneath the headline was a grainy photo of the escapee. You stared at it, your heart racing. The man in the picture looked eerily familiar—too familiar. It was Matt.

End of Part 1.

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Loss and Reunion (Part 1)

Jason knew Dick had to die sometime. Besides the fact that it was inevitable, Batman’s Robins all seem to die early. It was really just a matter of time. But can Bruce at least pretend to be upset about it?

Part 2 here

---

Part 1: Loss

His mouth is stern. Jaw tight. Eyes unreadable behind the godforsaken cowl. Jason knows that something is up with Bruce - sorry, Batman - even beyond the obvious.

“You’re here,” Batman growls.

“I’m here,” Jason echoes. He hadn’t been there when the world was under attack. He’d been with the Outlaws. He’d been busy. There’s only so much one person can do, and Jason is becoming more and more aware of that fact as time goes on.

In an attempt to remain casual, Jason crosses his arms and leans back on one of the Cave’s many walls. He keeps his expression as neutral as possible. Batman doesn’t need to know that his voice still makes Jason’s hands shake.

The muscles in Batman’s jaw and mouth relax. The corner of his lip tips up ever so slightly. If anyone other than a protege of Batman and child of Bruce Wayne saw it, they’d never notice the difference.

But Jason knows. Jason knows quite well.

Batman - or is it Bruce? - is smiling. It seems to be out of relief, but Jason frustratingly can’t see his eyes. Can’t tell for certain why he’s smiling.

“You’re here,” Batman repeats, and Jason has ten witty comebacks on his tongue when he’s abruptly silenced by the hug.

Hug.

Batman.

Batman is… is hugging him. Jason can’t remember many times Bruce hugged him. He often jokes that the only time he’d been cradled by Bruce was after he was already dead. No one ever finds it funny, but Jason keeps saying it anyway.

“Bruce,” Jason says, tone flat and arms stiff at his sides. He’s pretty sure he’s talking to Bruce, not Batman. “Let go.”

And emotionally constipated Bruce Wayne hugs Jason just a bit tighter, lingers for just a moment longer, before begrudgingly letting go. He straightens, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m, uh… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jason squints, returning to his position against the wall. “I… Thanks?”

Bruce clears his throat. “A… A lot’s happened.”

Stating the obvious. Just because Jason was off-world doesn’t mean he wasn’t inundated with chaos the second he landed back on Earth.

But rather than say this, Jason decides to deflect, deflect, deflect. Anything to avoid discussing feelings with this uncharacteristically-vulnerable version of Bruce. “Where is everyone?”

At this, Bruce lets out a comically exaggerated sigh. He tugs the cowl down and runs a hand through his hair. Finally visible, Bruce’s eyes are tired. Exhausted, even. “Robin’s on patrol.”

Avoiding Bruce, Jason translates.

“Alfred’s with Leslie. Some people still need medical care after… everything.”

Meaning the world is so fucked that Alfred actually left the cave.

“Oracle should be in bed, though I doubt it. Probably still running comms.”

So nothing’s changed with her, then.

“And Red Robin is with the Titans.” Then he falls silent. Like the question has been sufficiently answered.

As per usual, Bruce’s true meaning lies with the unspoken.

“... and Dick?” Jason ventures.

Bruce sighs again, finding a chair to sit in. He lowers himself down gingerly, like every muscle aches. But his mouth stays shut. Jason can’t even hear a noncommittal “hn.”

Jason’s hands tighten on his arms. He and the golden boy aren’t the best of friends, but they’re still brothers. They’re still family.

And god knows what this family will do for each other.

“Where’s Dick?” And then, after another too-long pause - “Where’s Dick, Bruce?” His tone is tough enough to pierce titanium, sharp enough to cut diamond.

Bruce looks away and then back at Jason. “Nightwing’s dead.”

The words are spoken with a cold finality. With all the loving kindness of a dull icepick - weakened in mechanism but brutal in delivery. There is no room for care. No room for questioning. It’s spoken as Batman conducts his detective work: factual and efficient.

Jason may have forgiven the tone if Bruce at least looked sorry. But he doesn’t. His eyes are hardened. They’re not sorry. Not devastated. Not even sad.

They’re as expressionless as they were when he wore the cowl.

Something in Jason snaps. Sweat breaks out on his palms, his forehead, his neck. His shoulders tense, and his stomach flips. Jason’s face burns, and his vision goes a sickly green.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he demands, patience paper-thin.

“Nightwing was kidnapped by the Crime Syndicate. They revealed his identity on television and wired a bomb to his heart.”

Jason feels nauseous, but Bruce isn’t done.

“The bomb was set to go off unless Nightwing died. Lex Luthor killed him.”

And there it is. That railroad spike of flippancy. That absolute carelessness. It’s becoming painfully clear that even with the cowl off, this is Batman. This is the man that trained Jason. Not the man that tried to be his father.

That tried to be Dick’s father too. But hadn’t tried hard enough.

“You…” Jason means to say something defensive. He means to say something demanding and intimidating and furious, because that’s what he is. He’s furious.

…so why does he feel so empty?

“It’s not…” But still, Jason can’t manage a sentence. He opens his mouth to speak, and words fail him. Because… because surely there’s something wrong. Surely, this is a lie.

And while Jason wrestles with this, Bruce studies his expression. Is no doubt waiting for an angry outburst or a pathetic wave of tears.

But he gets neither. Because Jason is just… confused.

“You’re… He’s dead?” he finally manages.

And Bruce nods, eyes still devoid of grief or ire. It makes Jason’s stomach knot.

“And you’re certain?” Because sure, he’s dead. They’ve all died. But it never quite sticks. Being assumed dead is very different from being face-to-face with a corpse. And even then, it isn’t always forever. Jason is living proof of that.

“I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“Did you see the body, Bruce?” Jason presses. “Can you confirm-?”

“Yes.” Bruce’s tone is cold, but his eyes are devoid of emotion. He sounds upset about being questioned. Not upset that his son is dead.

Jason tries to ignore that. “When?”

“Two months ago.”

The revelation is like a hammer to his gut.

For a long, long moment, Jason says nothing. He stares out past Bruce, eyes losing focus.

“Jason.” Bruce is cautious, voice concerned. “Jason, say something.”

“... where’s Luthor?”

And suddenly, Bruce is the quiet one.

“Bruce. Where’s Luthor?”

Bruce doesn’t respond. Just shakes his head before turning around, sweeping his cape, and pacing to the Batcomputer.

And then rage hits Jason like a bullet train. “Don’t you care??” he shouts.

Still no response. Just rapid typing on the keyboard.

Jason’s eye twitches. He forces a controlled stream of air from his lips, struggling to compose himself. “Where’s Luthor?” He stalks towards the computer himself, not stopping until he’s standing next to the console chair.

The typing pauses, fingers stilled over the keys. And then Bruce - Batman - shrugs, resuming his case report.

Jason’s vision is filtered by a deeper shade of green. The blatant lack of respect - of decency - makes Jason’s mouth taste bitter. It’s so, so painfully reminiscent. So similar, it’s practically identical. So like Jason’s death.

The Joker is out there somewhere. Living to swing crowbars another day. Living to kill kids another day. Batman hasn’t stopped him.

And here it is. Dick. Dead. And where is Luthor?

Batman certainly doesn’t know.

“Don’t do that,” he warns, sight narrowing in on Batman. “Tell me Luthor’s dead. Tell me he’s dead, Bruce!”

But Batman doesn’t say it. Bruce doesn’t say it either. Both are the picture of calm. Of someone who hasn’t just lost a son.

“Where is he?” Jason seethes. Even if Batman doesn’t care, Jason needs somewhere to go. Something to do.

This seems to snap Bruce forward and push Batman away. “Jason,” he begins softly, finally looking away from the computer and spinning in his chair to see Jason clearly. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Wrong thing to say.

“Isn’t there?” Jason fumes. “Is that what you said after Joker killed me??”

“Jason, I…” Bruce scowls. “I’m sorry that I don’t seem remorseful enough for you. The fact of the matter is that Nightwing is dead. The Crime Syndicate has done a lot of damage, and there are people we can help if we act now. But being upset about Nightwing isn’t going to fix anything.”

Wrong. Thing. To say.

“This is your fault,” Jason growls. “This - your whole holier-than-thou, no-killing bullshit - is why Dick is dead. If you would just get off your soapbox for five seconds, if you actually thought about what you were doing, if you hadn’t recruited a bunch of kids into your dumbass crusade, Dick wouldn’t be-!”

“Jason-”

But there’s that tone again. Not caring. Not sympathetic.

Bothered.

“Why did you drag him into this? Why did you drag us into this?” Pace, pace, pace. Jason pauses in front of Batman. Swivels to face him. Lowers his voice to a chilling whisper. “Did you lose a son? Or just another toy soldier?”

Batman rises abruptly. His silhouette is foreboding. Just as foreboding now, when Jason is taller than Batman, as when he was a kid. When he got saddled with Dick’s old job. At the time, it sounded fun. But at the time, he was also twelve and living on the streets

(Had Dick thought it was fun? It was his idea, as far as Jason is aware. But he was eight. Just how much resistance had Batman put up before he let Robin patrol with him?)

“Do not say that.” The words are terse, forced through gnashed teeth.

“What? That we’re all just pawns in your game of chess? That you caused this?”

Batman doesn’t back down. He maintains fierce eye contact. Balls his fists before hiding them in his cape. “You are my children,” he insists. “I did not force any of you to do this, and you know that. Nightwing knew that.”

Nightwing. Not Dick. Not Richard. Not even goddamn Grayson.

Nightwing.

“Dick,” Jason corrects, barely concealing a growl. “Dick knew that. Your son. At least have the decency to say his name.”

Batman levels Jason with a glare hot enough to melt steel before returning to his desk and continuing his report.

Because the truth of the matter is that Batman - that Bruce - is incapable of handling emotions like this. Whenever things get hard, he ducks his head and becomes engrossed in his work. He blocks out the world until the problems disappear.

But nothing can erase this.

Jason can’t take it anymore. He throws his helmet on the floor with a resounding crack. “Fuck you,” he hisses. Then he jumps onto his motorcycle and peels away. This is too much. It’s all just too much.

With an absent hand, Jason pulls out his phone and speed dials Dick’s cell.

“You’ve reached Dick Grayson. I’m not available right now, but please leave your-”

Jason hangs up. He’s not going to listen to that.

(He can’t listen to that.)

Instead, Jason flips his manual comm on, regretting the tiniest bit that he’d destroyed his helmet. “Hood to Oracle.”

The comm crackles and pops more than a toddler’s breakfast cereal. Jason really needs to replace his backup equipment. But through the hissing and static, he can make out a voice.

“Oracle.”

Ah. So Barbara had stayed up. Maybe to spite Bruce. Maybe because she just wanted to. Who’s to say?

“What’s Lex Luthor’s status?”

A long pause. Jason wonders if his comm has finally crapped out before Oracle replies, voice so loud it makes his ears ring. “Don’t bother, Hood.”

No explanation. No reassurances. Just one firm order.

But Jason is tired of taking orders.

“Look, I’m finding Luthor one way or another. The only question is if you help or if I need to consult a different source.”

Jason could swear he hears a huff over the receiver. “Can we talk?”

But Jason doesn’t want to talk. He wants to act. Now.

“No,” he says curtly. “Do you know where he is or not?”

A new voice invades the channel, dry and irritated. “Whatever you’re planning, Hood, I assure you it’s inadvisable.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Robin,” he growls. “Oracle, where is Luthor?”

A heavy pause. “Come to the tower.”

“Copy.”

Jason leaves his comm in - just in case someone decides to be helpful - but keeps driving south. If Barbara isn’t going to tell him where Luthor is, Jason will just find another way. Do some detective work, just like he’s been trained to do.

Because Dick deserves it. He deserves for someone to give a shit about him.

The thought makes Jason’s eyes burn. The Golden Boy, even in death, is taken for granted. And if Dick was still alive? He’d probably forgive Bruce for it too.

It makes Jason’s vision turn a deep emerald, and he has to focus on finding Luthor. It’s the only way to sate the fury in his veins.

Part 2 here

[stevesjockstrap]

Crash & Burn

Rated M • modern era, no UD • read on ao3

Friends with benefits, pining, idiots to lovers feels

Eddie’s phone buzzed, and buzzed again. He looked down at it. 1:39am. Two messages from Steve.

Groaning, he flipped his phone over and peeled himself off his couch to pace back and forth across the room, hands raking through his hair. Why couldn’t he just block his number? It’d been weeks (maybe months?) since he’d heard from him.

He only reached out after some girl broke his heart. Again.

Eddie couldn’t keep-

His phone started buzzing more urgently, repeatedly. Picking it up, he saw Steve’s name and had to answer it.

When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you

Give me a moment please to tame your wild, wild heart

“Hey.”

“Hi Eds…”

Just two words made everything come flying back front and center into Eddie’s mind. The amazing sex, sure, but mostly the soft touches, staying up all night talking, the way Steve looked at him like-

He shook his head, clearing whatever that was from his thoughts.

“What’s up neighbor? Need a cup of sugar?” He winced as the words left his mouth. For once his double entendre not being intentional. Oh. That was the other thing. They lived in the same row of townhouses, Eddie getting to see whichever current conquest Steve was wooing come and go, or Steve himself walking hand in hand with the supermodel of the week.

Thankfully Steve snickered back at his dumb joke. “I don’t need any sugar, actually. But I wanted to see if you were as bored as I am. Wanna come have a beer?”

This was his play, usually. Get Eddie over for a casual hang out, watch a movie, drink a beer, maybe smoke a joint. Once they were both a lot looser, things ended up happening.

Eddie would have to hear about whichever girl it was who Steve was sure was ‘The One,’ who was clearly using him for his name and money and when they’d find out Steve Harrington actually had no contact with his rich parents and only a upper middle class salary, they usually didn’t last long.

But Eddie was also a sucker. “Sure, man. Give me a few.”

I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you

It’s hard to find relief and people can be so cold

When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can’t take anymore

Let me be the one you call

After a few beers each and politely listening to the play by play of the breakup (Dana this time), Eddie eyed Steve as he crept slowly closer to him on the couch.

Maybe it would be fine this time. They could just blow off some steam. It’s not like he had any better offers.

He pretended to be very interested suddenly in whatever dumb sitcom Steve had thrown on for background noise, and a hand slid up his thigh. He bit into the side of his cheek and stayed still. The butterflies he got every time he was in this position came back full force.

“Steve, I-“ he shook his head, but then caught the look on his face, like a rejection right now would send him crumbling.

If you need to crash then crash and burn

You’re not alone

“C’mere,” he breathed instead.

They met in a slow kiss, less heated and desperate than usual. Eddie cupped his jaw tenderly, trying in equal measures to hold back and show him some of the emotion he’d bottled up for so long.

Steve gasped an “Ed-“ into his mouth and shoved closer to him. They wrapped their arms around each other and he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

When hopes and dreams are far away

And you feel like you can’t face the day

Let me be the one you call

The first slow thrust into Steve’s body was heart stopping. He didn’t think it had ever been like this, slow and gentle, instead of the frenzy he usually felt.

But that wasn’t altogether the truth, as he sucked in a breath, he realized while they usually came together in a rush, he’d usually find himself slowing it down. Making it more tender and caring.

Steve pulled him down for a soft kiss and he sunk into it with a small sound. Oh no. He pulled back. They could do slow passionate sex or they could have soft tender kisses but he couldn’t do both. He couldn’t take it. Especially not the eventual ghosting once Steve found a new girl to fall for.

But Steve was looking up at him now. Panting, cheeks flushed. Staring wide eyed up at him almost reverently. Eddie got stuck in his deep brown eyes for a long moment, transfixed until they both gasped on a particularly good thrust and Eddie realized what was happening.

He loved him. Was soul crushingly in love with a guy who only used him after he was broken up with.

Unable to meet his gaze, he mouthed along his neck and shoulder instead, allowing himself to hide his face, committing the little sighs and punched out sounds to memory.

This would have to be the last time.

When you feel all alone and a loyal friend is hard to find

You’re caught in a one-way street with the monsters in your head

When hope and dreams are far away

And you feel like you can’t face the day

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped. Peering at it, he ignored the new text and looked back at Gareth.

“Why are you so jumpy, bro?”

Shaking his head, he tried to return the conversation back to the gigs they had lined up, but Gareth could always see right through him.

“Uh uh, whose texts are you avoiding? That’s not like you. Spill.”

“Gare, I promise, it’s nothing,” he raked his hands through his hair and Gareth raised an eyebrow at him. Well fuck, now he’d done his tell, hadn’t he? Sighing, he decided on, “It’s just something that needs to fizzle out on its own. A mistake that I keep making. I should block him.”

“Ahh,” Gareth nodded. “Hot neighbor guy.”

His jaw dropped. “Wha- how? I mean, shit.” He leaned down and thunked his forehead on the table. “How do you know he’s hot?”

Giggling, Gareth patted his shoulder. “The mistakes that we can’t block- they’re always hot. So what happened? Usually you’re off to the races when he texts.”

Sitting back up, he sighed. “I can’t keep doing this. I lo- I care too much about him and he only wants to hook up after some girl fucks him over. It’s killing me.”

Gareth hummed at him, nodding. “Caught feelings for the booty call. That’s a lot, dude. Did you tell him?”

“Are you kidding? No way! Zero chance that he’d actually stop his womanizing ways to have something real with me. He just likes getting fu-“

Gareth held up a hand. “I don’t need the details, man.”

Laughing, Eddie shook his head again. “Maybe if I just don’t answer, he’ll find some girl who wants to peg him and go run off with her.”

“There’s always a chance.”

‘Cause there has always been heartache and pain

And when it’s over you’ll breathe again

You’ll breathe again

Groaning, Eddie read through the last text Steve had sent again.

Hi. I know you’re avoiding me and I just wanted to know why. Did I do something wrong? I’m home all night if you want to talk.

He knew he was being an asshole by ignoring him. He knew exactly how shitty it felt to be ghosted after their encounters and now he was doing the same thing.

Knocking on his door felt like approaching the executioner. Would he get punched in the face? Kicked in the balls? Would he need to move? He really liked his place.

“Oh hey, he is alive after all,” Steve said sardonically as he pulled the door open.

“It appears so. Can I come in?”

Steve seemed weary, but nodded and turned to walk into the kitchen, propping himself at a stool at the bar. Eddie stood on the other side of the counter from him.

“I’m sorry,” he huffed. It didn’t seem like enough, but he made himself relax his shoulders and continue. He looked down at the swirls in the countertop as he talked. “I can’t do this anymore. I- um, I really like you, Steve. And this only calling me when you get your heart broken is … it’s too much for me.”

After a beat, he chanced a look up at Steve’s face and winced. He looked like he’d gotten ice water thrown in his lap.

“I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I just worked it out myself very recently. I thought I could do the casual hookups but my heart can’t take it anymore. Because I know you don’t feel the same and-“

“Of course I don’t feel the same,” Steve growled out, his face now completely closed off and hard.

Eddie clenched his jaw and gave a stiff nod.

“I’m not- I don’t swing that way, man.”

Instead of arguing, he just nodded again and walked towards the door. Somehow that’d been worse than he’d expected. He almost wished he would’ve received an actual punch instead.

When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you

Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart

A few days later he pointedly turned away when he saw Steve walking hand in hand with another blonde woman. Good for him. Maybe he’d settle down and find a different neighbor to fuck him through his denial.

He finally blocked his number and his Instagram. Gareth took him out for depressed drinks and darts. He started parking around the side of his townhouse and coming in the back door when he couldn’t stop himself from checking for strange cars on the other end of the lot.

Maybe he would need to move.

If you need to fall apart (you’re not alone) I can mend a broken heart

And if you need to crash then crash and burn (you’re never alone)

You’re not alone

A pounding woke him and he pushed away from the warm body next to him to look at the time. 2:11am. What the fuck?

Throwing pants on, he went downstairs and flicked a light on.

Someone was standing on his porch.

Throwing the door open, he immediately realized it was pouring down rain, Steve was at his door, and he should’ve put a shirt on.

“Hi.” Steve started. His eyes widened as he took in Eddie’s appearance, rumpled hair and hickeys going down his neck and chest.

He’d taken home the pretty boy in the bomber jacket from the bar. Sue him. And-

“Who is it, babe?”

Steve’s eyes widened further and his face paled. Mouth opening and closing before his face closed off again and he turned away. “Never mind.”

Without thinking, he followed him, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Steve! Wait!”

Stupidly, he reached out for him and grabbed his arm to pull him around.

Steve yanked his arm back with a huff. “Save it. I see you’ve moved on quickly.”

“Me?” He sputtered, throwing his hands up. “I’ve moved on quickly? How many girls have you fucked this month? This week?”

Starting to turn away again, he grumbled, “Just go back to your-“

Eddie was suddenly so deeply tired and he couldn’t fight anymore. “You came over here in the rain to knock on my door at two AM, man. Talk to me. Please.”

That knocked the fight out of Steve, and he looked like himself again. He sighed, pushing his wet floppy hair out of his face. It made him look even more pitiful, like a little wet puppy.

“I know. I’ve been a dick.” Steve swiped across his face and Eddie’s heart clenched. “It dawned on me. Tonight. That our… arrangement before…”

Thunder boomed and they both jumped. Eddie tried to hide his satisfaction as Steve edged closer to him.

“Just, I realized I looked forward to seeing you, sometimes a lot more than the girl I was telling you about. I was stupid. I’m so sorry, Eds. These last few weeks I’ve been a mess. I think I fell in love with you a long time ago, too. And-“

Eddie cupped his face and stepped in closer, staring into his eyes. “Say it again?”

Giving him the tiniest smile, he repeated, “I’m in love with you, Eddie. I’m so sorry I said those things that day.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, Steve closed the small distance between them. Eddie kept him there with a handful of soaking wet tshirt.

This kiss was nothing like their kisses before. Eddie could pour all of his love and affection into it now, not having to hold anything back. Even from himself.

“Wow,” Steve breathed, lips still moving against his.

Eddie pressed a few more kisses against his lip before pulling back.

“Do you wanna hear a secret?” Eddie asked, suddenly serious.

Steve nodded, confused.

“I didn’t move on. I picked that guy up at the bar last night because he reminded me of you.”

A wide grin spread across Steve’s face. “Oh really?”

Let me be the one you call

If you jump, I’ll break your fall

Lift you up and fly away with you into the night

Ali @eddiethehunted made me have a Savage Garden nostalgic moment (months ago, sorry) and ofc I had steddie feels 🖤

[jusst-you-race]

omg LOVE your max x lewis one!!! how about sebmark, as an apology? I think it's 26? or 28. one of those two numbers

thank you!!! and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to finally write sebmark!!! this... may be something i eventually turn into a proper fic?? idk but i had so much fun with it! thank you to everyone for all the prompts!

a kiss as an apology

Both of them are doing their best to walk as casually as possible as they get further and further from the building. Mark is still in disbelief that they actually pulled it off. Stealing from one of the most powerful criminals in the area is not in Mark’s usual skill set, but when Lewis had proposed the job all those months ago, the promise of the payoff had been enough to convince him. 

Ahead of him, Seb is barely stopping himself from skipping through the streets, and Mark rolls his eyes.

That was another thing, working with Seb had been Lewis’ idea as well. He claimed that their skill sets would be complementary. And he wasn’t wrong, they work well as a pair, considering the ridiculous thing they’d just pulled off without setting off so much as a single alarm. But their personalities… Mark still isn’t sure how they haven’t killed each other over the last few months. 

It had been slightly more tolerable when they started having sex about all their disagreements, he muses. 

Seb spins on his heel where he’s started to pull a few steps ahead of Mark.

“Hurry up old man!”

Mark rolls his eyes again. Seb is such a brat sometimes. They’re supposed to be walking discreetly, trying not to draw the attention of anyone around that could place them near the scene of the crime, but here this little shit is shouting at him from down the road. 

Mark picks up the pace anyway. 

They’re heading towards the docks, where Lewis has promised a boat is waiting for them, tucked away somewhere quiet and discreet. Mark is looking forward to a break from all of this honestly. The build up to this job had been more intense than he usually likes, partly because of who he was working with, and partly because of who they were stealing from. 

Seb turns around to look at him again. Mark hesitates slightly as the look on his face. It’s not a look Mark can read easily, which isn’t necessarily surprising coming from Seb, but there was something in his eyes that unsettles Mark slightly. He tries to brush it off. 

They duck into an alley, and alarm bells start going off in Mark’s head. This isn’t the planned route. 

“Seb?”

Seb slows to a stop ahead of him, and continues to just stare into the shadows of the alley ahead of him. Mark takes a cautious step towards him, tentatively reaching out to touch Seb’s shoulder. 

“What’s going on?”

Seb turns around. Mark’s heart sinks as he realises what he had seen in Seb’s eyes. It’s tears. 

“Mark… you have to know this isn’t personal.”

Panic starts rising in Mark’s throat and he tries desperately to swallow it down.

“Seb, tell me what’s going on. Let’s talk about this.”

Belatedly, he realises he let Seb carry the stolen goods. Mark is such an idiot. Seb sniffs, and cups Mark’s jaw with his hand. 

“I did really enjoy working with you.”

Mark’s heart is pounding now. His danger senses are on high alert, and he’s about to run, yell, beg Seb to tell him what’s going on, anything — but Seb leans in to kiss him and once again Mark can do nothing but fall helplessly into his clutches yet again. 

The kiss is messy, desperate, and slightly wet now that tears are rolling down Seb’s cheeks in a steady stream. Mark thinks it might be the best kiss they’ve ever shared. His heart clenches, and he resigns himself to his fate. The hand not cupping his jaw slides into Seb’s jacket, and Mark tries so hard to pretend this isn’t happening. Pretend that he hasn’t been a complete idiot, that he hasn’t let his guard drop because of a cheeky blond who radiates danger and excitement in a heady concoction. Seb steps back.

“Mark, I’m so sorry.”

Huh, Mark is crying too now. What a strange time to realise he might have actually fallen in love.

Seb raises his gun. His hand is wobbling. He’s been nothing but a steady shot since the moment Mark met him. There’s an ache somewhere deep in Mark’s chest. 

“I won’t forgive you,” Mark says. He doesn’t want it to be true, but Seb would know it anyway. A sob wrenches itself out of Seb’s mouth.

“I know.”

He shoots Mark in the leg. 

By the time Mark has blinked away the blinding pain, Seb has disappeared. Mark slumps against the wall of the alley, clutching the wound in his leg. 

The wound in his heart hurts more.

[wisteria-tarot]

What would i see on this royals phone?: (Catherine Princess of Wales )

Disclaimer: This reading is only for entertainment. Take it with a grain of salt. These are my personal interpretations of the cards with a sprinkle of intuition. Tarot is not set in stone it is not the end all be all of someones life.

What did texts between her & william when they were younger look like?

9 of pentacles, 5 of swords, knight of wands, queen of swords (rx), 2 of cups, strength, 7 of wands, the world (rx):

It was a constant mix of hot and cold, with moments where they were so into each other, but then the next thing you know, things would get icy and toxic. One minute they're sending sweet, heartfelt messages bonding over inside jokes, and sharing moments of pure chemistry. But the second anything felt off, the claws came out. She was not a pushover at all, always showing off her independence, letting him know she didn’t need him but was willing to keep things exciting when she felt like it. She might have been a bit sharp-tongued, maybe very cold and passive-aggressive. She’d throw in little jabs here and there that would have him feeling confused about the situation. Which of course then resulted in heated back-and-forths. They’d clash, both of them trying to prove a point, and it wasn’t just about petty shit either there was most likely something deeper lurking. But despite the tension and back-and-forth, there was this underlying pull between them. She’d show all that strength, making him think she was all hard edges, but really, she wanted him to see her power and her value. She didn't want to come off like the other girls she had around she wanted to show that if he wanted her she had to work to earn her respect. Another thing I'm seeing is that no matter how much they fought or how cold the texts got, there may have been this unresolved feeling. Like they’d never fully close the door on whatever they had. Some texts may have gone unfinished because they were constantly circling back to something that could have been, but never was. Which honestly kept things interesting for both of them. They were a very dramatic maybe even toxic couple when they were younger.

What do texts between her & william now look like?

10 of pentacles (rx), the tower (rx), the magician, the high priestess, the devil (rx), the moon, the hermit, 10 of cups (rx):

They’re both trying to avoid facing the reality of whatever happened between them, but it’s obvious things are maybe falling apart. They might talk about certain things with each other, but it’s very surface-level nothing real. They may both feel the weight of missed opportunities and the broken dream of what their future would look like. While all this is going on, they both might be pretending to be fine, but underneath, there’s a lot of manipulation going on. With either one of them trying to steer the conversation in a way that makes them seem like they’ve moved on or don’t care, they’re still invested in some way. One minute, they’ll drop a casual text that feels like they’re doing fine, and the next, they’ll send something vague that feels like they’re testing the waters. It's like they’re both trying to control the situation with their words but without ever saying what they mean. There might also be moments of silence where they don’t talk for hours or even days, leaving the other one wondering what’s going on. It’s almost like they’re having a little game of hide-and-seek. One of them will pull away to think, probably trying to figure out if they want to keep doing this back and forth. The other will get confused, read too much into things, and then try to stir the pot with a cryptic message. I could see neither of them believing in happily-ever-after anymore. Doesn't mean that they don't want it anymore but it kinda feels like that train has left the station a long time ago. There is a pull that is still there, but it's unhealthy, and it's like a loop they can’t escape. Neither one is ready to fully move on, even though it's obvious they both should.

What do text between her & her sister look like?

the hanged man (rx), the chariot (rx), the lovers, king of wands (rx), page of cups (rx), justice (rx), ace of pentacles (rx), 8 of swords (rx):

They have this intense love for each other, but, it can also be a bit frustrating. They vent, they argue, they try to be there for each other, but there’s always some emotional immaturity lurking beneath the surface where one or both of them are avoiding deep feelings or just brushing things off. Her sister might get the brunt of her venting when things feel unfair. Things between them can also feel out of control at times, like they’re both trying to make things work but can’t seem to move forward. There’s a lot of missed opportunities—plans falling apart, dreams not coming through—and a feeling that neither of them is getting what they truly need. But even with all of this, there’s still love and a sense of “we’ll always have each other.” It’s just that sometimes they both get wrapped up in their own heads, and creating drama over stuff that’s not fully addressed.

What do text between her & her friends look like?

2 of cups (rx), ace of wands (rx), ace of pentacles (rx), 3 of swords, king of swords, knight of cups (rx), 9 of wands, 9 of pentacles (rx):

There's definitely some emotional distance between them. At one point they had a tight, almost unbreakable bond, but now it's like one of them is always upset, feeling left out, or just plain disconnected. The conversations can start off fine, but they quickly devolve into complaining about missed opportunities or failed plans, nothing is moving forward, and everyone is stuck in their own ruts. One of them is probably crying over some heartbreak or betrayal, and it’s like the group just doesn’t know how to fix it. The vibe may feel cold and detached sometimes like they want to help, but they’re all too exhausted to put in the effort. There's also might be a lot of unresolved drama, with promises and emotions being thrown around, but nobody ever really follows through. It’s almost like they want to care, but can’t seem to get it together. There may also be some jealousy or insecurity bubbling under the surface. People are comparing themselves to one another and feeling like they’re not measuring up, which only adds to the tension.

What kind of photos would we find in her gallery?

6 of pentacles (rx), 5 of pentacles, king of pentacles (rx), 6 of swords (rx), 2 of pentacles (rx), 7 of wands (rx), the sun, the hierophant:

You’ll probably find plenty of stunning moments where she’s living her best life, surrounded by people she loves, and just being happy, but there’s also a lot of struggle. You’ll also catch glimpses of her at low points, trying to juggle too many things, feeling emotionally drained or isolated. It’s a gallery of realness—imperfect, but with plenty of soul.

Who would we be surprised to know she's texting?

judgement, the hermit, the chariot (rx), the sun, the hierophant, 6 of swords (rx), king of wands (rx), 8 of swords (rx):

Someone from her past probably an ex, or someone she had a serious falling out with who’s come back into her life in a way that’s been unexpected and not-so-smooth. There could have some unresolved business or unfinished drama between them. What might be even more surprising is that she could also be texting someone who’s more of a loner, someone you wouldn’t expect her to be in touch with maybe an old mentor, or someone who generally stays out of the social scene. She may be reaching out for advice or connection, probably about a personal struggle she’s been dealing with. There’s also someone struggling to move forward, maybe a person who isn’t exactly “growing” in life the way they should be so she’s texting them out of either guilt or a sense of obligation, even though they’re stuck in their own mess. This person really isn’t bringing much to the table just baggage. She might also be texting someone who is magnetic, someone who can light up her world with their presence, bringing joy and excitement into her life. But despite this, they might not be the most dependable person. She’s juggling a lot of people some stuck in the past, some offering wisdom, and some just bringing drama.

What kind of music does she like listening to?

9 of cups, 5 of pentacles, king of cups, the fool (rx), 3 of wands, ace of cups (rx), 6 of cups (rx), 6 of wands (rx):

When she’s in her zone, expect her to lean toward music that speaks to loss, struggle, or heartbreak, think R&B, soul, and indie ballads. But there's also that side of her that wants to break free so she might throw on something experimental or a little chaotic when she’s craving a little excitement. Her playlist also has epic tracks for when she’s feeling motivated to take on the world, you might also find some nostalgic hits that remind her of the past. Whether it’s old-school jams, emotional deep cuts, or quirky tracks that don’t always make sense but still hit. Her music collection reflects a journey of highs and lows, celebrations and struggles.

What kind of websites does she regularly browse?

3 of swords (rx), knight of cups (rx), 7 of pentacles (rx), 2 of wands, page of wands, king of swords (rx), 9 of pentacles (rx), queen of swords:

You'd probably find her browsing self-help sad-girl blogs, where they help with trying to process past heartbreak or disappointment, and just emotions in general. You may even find her on websites where there is some element of reading about fantasy when she wants to disconnect a bit. When she’s not trying to get into self help, she’s probably looking at sites planning her future trips or different adventures she wants to go on, maybe even career moves she wants to make, or creative things that she wants to do that spark excitement in her. There’s also a side to her that spends time on luxury and lifestyle websites. She also enjoys intellectual stimulation, so she may at times be deep diving into complex topics, but getting frustrated by the lack of clarity or too many opinions.

What kind of apps does she regularly use?

page of pentacles, 10 of swords (rx), 7 of cups, 10 of wands, 4 of swords (rx), ace of swords (rx), 8 of pentacles (rx), 5 of wands (rx):

She’s probably got a lot of apps for learning or self-improvement. She might be using therapy apps or meditation apps, but honestly, she’s probably not resting the way she needs to—scrolling social media or binge-watching shows on Netflix as a distraction instead. She probably spends time in work productivity apps, trying to stay on top of everything. You might also catch her scrolling through creative apps like Pinterest or Instagram. Overall, it’s a mix of exploration and distraction,

[baisemains]

I know what you tell your friends

sydney adamu x gn!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: drinking, smoking weed, cursing, angst, jealousy, syd being mean to reader

description: your night out with syd takes a turn for the worst / pt. 2 to ‘is it casual now?’

ao3 link | spotify playlist

previous | next // sydney adamu masterlist

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You and Sydney take the train instead of driving in case you decide to drink, which at this point, is a guaranteed, you don’t think you can handle the rest of the night around her sober. The stolen glances and arm grazes among light conversation on the ride there have you counting down the seconds until you arrive.

When you arrive at the venue, you bypass the line and go straight to security, giving the tall man at the door a hug. Syd stands to the side, a bit awkward since you never actually informed her how you’d be getting in. She had assumed you got tickets the old fashioned way, but that apparently wasn’t the case as she watched the unnamed man lift you into a bear hug.

A few moments later, you’re finally put down and you turn to face her, laughing and fixing your coat. “Syd, this is Johnny, one of my closest friends from college, and the best baker you’ll ever meet,” you clap your hand on his massive bicep and Syd is sure she felt a small earthquake. As you turn to him to introduce Sydney, he’s already sticking his hand out in her direction, a shit eating grin on his face. “So we finally meet.”

Sydney raises an eyebrow at that and sends you a questioning look, shaking his hand nonetheless. Johnny pulls her into a similar hug, minus lifting her off the ground, and Syd lets out a surprised squeak. You feel heat start to creep up your neck, of course she figured you talked to your friends about her, she did the same, but not to the degree that they’d react that friendly.

He lets her go soon after and ushers you guys inside, but not before you tell him you’ll talk to him after the show.

“So…what did he mean by ‘finally meet?’” You pretend not to hear her, using the noise of the crowd to your advantage. What are you supposed to say, “Yeah I talk to my friends about how I’ve been catching feelings for you for months, even though you said if that ever happened, our situation would end and I think I’d rather die than do that so I’ve been keeping my mouth shut!” You could only imagine, your pride would never recover.

The bar finally comes into view and you send a little thank you upstairs as you turn to ask Syd if she wants anything. She’s closer than you expect, the throng of people pushing you towards each other, so much so that your noses nearly touch and you jump back a little.

Your eyes meet and you see her chest rise and fall in your peripheral vision. Shaking the dangerous thoughts threatening to form in your head, you lean in to do what you originally came here for. “I’m gonna get a drink, you want anything?”

Sydney has to really focus on your words, your proximity to her body throwing her off in a way that hasn’t happened in a while. She wonders if she even should, drinking always relaxes her and right now, she feels like she should be on high alert. But with the way your breath feels against her neck, turning you down is the last thing on her mind. That, and the fact that she really needs to keep her hands busy before they get her in trouble.

You get the bartender’s attention after a few minutes and order your drinks, doubles for both of you, agreeing that the line is way too long to come back for another later. Clinking your glasses together and taking a sip, the delicious burn makes its way from your throat to your stomach, much like the feeling Sydney has been giving you all night. It’s only then that you realize you’ve barely eaten today and that you’d better babysit your drink so you don’t feel it so quickly.

Seeing how the floor near the stage is filling in, you tell Sydney you should start heading over so you get a good spot, wanting to be able to see your friend perform. “Grab onto me so we don’t get separated, okay?” You assume she’ll grab onto the back of your coat so when you feel her graze your hand and latch onto your sleeve, you almost stumble. You’re suddenly grateful for the low lighting and the fact that she’s walking behind you because you’re starting to sweat, making a beeline for the side stage.

The two of you reach your spots and settle in, taking sips of your drinks as the lights go down and the show starts. Syd actually enjoys herself, your friend’s band is as good as you said they were, their music was relaxing and intricate all at once, and as the show ends, she finds herself grateful to you for inviting her, she really needed this. It also helped that she’d finished her drink and was definitely feeling the buzz.

Throughout the show, you two had exchanged content glances, nodding to the music and just enjoying each other’s company, all while never speaking a word. You wait for the crowd to disperse a little before starting to head out yourselves when Johnny comes over and throws his arms over both of you. “Don’t tell me you guys are leaving before the after party?”

You push him off with a laugh, not wanting him to get too comfortable around Sydney and blow your cover, what little was left of it anyway. “What, you mean everyone going to Jen’s and drinking there?” Your friend in the band had told you that there was a plan to head to another friend’s place after the show to catch up, as they hadn’t performed in Chicago in a while. You look at Syd to gauge her reaction but she’s stoic as ever and you scratch your neck, suddenly nervous.

The lines are so blurred at this point, you’re not even sure how to go about the situation. You’re not really friends because you guys don’t spend time together outside of a bed but you’re definitely not strangers, far too familiar with each other’s bodies. Is it weird to ask her if she wants to go? The fact that she even agreed to come to the concert was mind blowing, but now you’re not sure when to stop pushing your luck. Fuck it, we ball, you think to yourself as you look to Syd and ask, “What do you feel like doing?”

She makes eye contact with you, and not until she answers do you let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “Why the hell not, sure.” You freeze for a moment, not realizing Syd said yes, and Johnny claps a hand on each of your shoulders, easing the tension in the air. You try to stifle a grin but she sees it anyways and matches it with her own.

The three of you make your way backstage, you and Johnny goofing off and Syd walking a couple of paces behind you two, amused at your childlike antics. When you walk into the green room, everyone has a beer in hand and are talking among the music playing from someone’s broken speaker.

Someone from the band, Syd assumes, spots you come in and cheers. More heads turn in your direction and she feels awkward standing off to the side as you make your rounds saying hi to everyone. You make your way back to her and point to all the people in the room one by one as you introduce them to her.

Syd doesn’t catch anyone’s name until you say Jen, and for some reason, her stomach twists a little. She had noticed you two being especially friendly when you said hi, but now that Syd could see how pretty she was, standing there smiling with her freshly dyed red hair and perfectly fitting baby tee, a small pit makes itself at home in her gut. What the fuck, she thought to herself, since when does she care about you being friendly with other people. Syd shakes off the thought and waves in everyone’s general direction as they all start packing their stuff to head out.

Apparently Jen’s apartment is within walking distance of the venue so off you go, like a field trip full of school kids. You notice Syd’s mood changed after meeting everyone so you check in to make sure she’s still up for going.

“Hey…you okay? We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, the train station is also in this direction.” You didn’t think to mention that you and Jen had a fling a few years ago, the leftover tension still tangible, apparently. Now you’re worried that you ruined any kind of progress between you and Syd and the thought makes you uneasy. Syd catches herself and realizes she’s basically been sulking since you left the venue and quickly corrects herself.

“What? No, yeah, I’m fine, it’s just colder out here than it was earlier.” She forces a smile and you don’t really believe her but decide not to push it any further.

When you arrive, there’s already mood lighting and soft music playing through a better quality speaker than there was in the green room. Everyone spreads out through the living room and kitchen, and you take off your coat before turning to Syd and reaching for hers. She lets you take it, but not without a twitch in her eyebrow, this being more domestic than you’re used to. You hang them up and lead her to the couch, there being just enough room for the two of you to sit down.

After a couple minutes of small talk with your friends, you look at Syd expectantly. “I’m gonna grab a drink from the kitchen, you want anything?” You echo your words from earlier and though there’s much more space between you two this time, she still feels her breath quicken.

“Yeah, I’ll have whatever you’re having, thanks.” She doesn’t even care what it is at this point, she just wants to relax. Leaning further into the couch, she looks around at everyone, gauging the vibe of the room when she feels the seat next to her dip. She turns, opening her mouth to ask you how you got done so quick when she sees Johnny, a knowing smile on his face. “Expecting someone else?”

Syd’s eyebrows quirk as she replies. “Sort of, unless you’re the delivery man.” She laughs, trying not to let him see her slight disappointment. He seemed like a nice guy, she just didn’t know him well enough to strike up a a conversation. That didn’t stop him from trying, though.

“So…,” he drums his hands on his knees, “I’m surprised you decided to come out tonight.”

That catches Syd off guard, how the hell did he know her well enough to know what she would or wouldn’t do? She felt a bit of attitude slip through when she replied, “And why is that?”

He immediately catches your vibe and throws his hands up, trying to show you he means no harm. “No reason, just that you-know-who says you don’t go out much. But it’s good that you came, shows initiative.”

Now Syd is getting straight up annoyed, what she does or doesn't do is none of anyone else’s business. Johnny senses that he fucked up and excuses himself elsewhere, apologizing as he leaves. She watches him walk away and sees that you’re still in the kitchen, now chatting up Jen apparently. You lean in to say something to her and when she pushes your shoulder, laughing, Syd feels her skin prickle, and she has to look away before she starts rolling her eyes.

You come back over to Syd a few minutes later, two drinks in hand, and sit down next to her when you feel the tension rolling off of her. Unsure of how to proceed, she was fine when you left, you simply stretch your hand out and hand her what’s now become a sort of peace offering. “Here’s your drink?”

Syd takes it without a word and takes a big gulp as you just stare at her, wide eyed. She realizes how she reacted and gruffly responds, “Thanks.”

“So…some of the guys were gonna go outside and smoke, you wanna come? If not, I’ll stay in here with you, I’m fine either way.” Looking between her eyes, you look for any hint to how she’s feeling but you come up with nothing. You brought her here with the intention of her getting to know your friends better, if she was open to it, but now you’re not sure what’s gonna happen.

To your surprise, Syd finishes the rest of her drink, stands up and gives you an expectant look. “You coming or what?” You’re a bit in awe, you've never seen her be this…out of character, for lack of a better phrase. You follow her outside into the brisk night air, grabbing your coats on the way.

Everyone’s already started by the time you two arrive, so you just slot yourselves in where you fit. Truth be told, you didn’t even know if Syd smoked when you asked her, but the way she reacted made it seem like it was an all the time thing for her, so you didn’t question it.

You don’t notice until the joint is passed to you that Jen is stood on your right, and Syd is on your left, which puts you in the middle of a very tense (and hot) sandwich. You take a long drag and look up at the night sky, trying to collect your bearings, as you close your eyes and let the smoke settle in your lungs. Letting it out through your nose and taking another, smaller drag as you pass it to Syd, the weed taking effect almost instantly.

The joint makes its way around a few more times, most everyone having gone back inside now, until it’s Jen’s turn to pass it to you again and you’re waiting when you feel her grab your chin and press the joint to your lips. Your reaction is delayed, eyes widening slightly as you taste Jen’s cherry lipgloss, she must have just reapplied it, you think. She laughs and takes her hand back, and you can feel a pair of deep brown eyes burning into the back of your skull. You’re quick to move away from her and lean back against the railing, inhaling and staring down at the ground, not wanting to look anywhere in Syd’s direction.

Passing the joint to Syd without looking at her, she takes it and you think you’re in the clear for a few moments until your face is grabbed again, but in the opposite direction, and you feel surprisingly warm lips cover your own. Your brain starts shutting down all coherent thought as you realize that Syd’s not technically kissing you, she’s shotgunning, but you don’t really care about the difference at the moment. You go along with it, mostly because you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to, and faintly in the background, you hear Johnny coughing and Jen giggling.

The two of you pull apart and you exhale all the smoke now in your lungs, your entire body heating up despite the chill in the air. The shock on your face is evident as Syd takes another drag, smirking the entire time. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and your brain has turned to mush but you can’t decide between saying something or leaving so you just stand there with your mouth agape, your feet rooted to the ground.

Soon after that, the four of you finish up and head back inside, Syd grabbing some water for you both as you catch Johnny’s eye across the room, basically saying what the fuck was that. Syd yawns next to you a little while later and you remember that she has to go in early the next morning so you start making your rounds and say goodbye to your friends. When you reach Jen, she whispers something in your ear that throws you for a major loop. “You’re welcome, now go get your girl.” Syd sees the interaction between you two but isn’t able to make out what Jen says so her irritation flares right back up, leaving you to practically chase her down the street.

When you finally catch up to her, she feels worlds away, but your mind hasn’t stopped thinking about her little stunt earlier and you were trying to think about how to broach the subject. She clearly is not going to do it first, you know how she shuts down when she’s upset, but you can’t let her brush it off this time like she always does.

Once you’re both on the train, you realize it’s completely empty, leaving the two of you sitting in an uncomfortable silence, the occasional sigh leaving Syd’s lips. She knows she crossed a line doing that in front of your friends, but when she saw Jen get that close to you, it’s like a fuse blew and she had to take back control. Control of what, she wasn’t entirely sure yet; her emotions, the situation, you, it was all a toss up at this point.

Now she’s left with a swarm of feelings, none of which she wants to deal with at the moment, especially not around you. Her leg is frantically bouncing, and all she can think is what the hell did I do…

The rest of the train ride is awkward as the tension that has been building all night continues to hang in the air. You sit in silence, both deep in thought, neither sure how to start the conversation. Syd fidgets, alternating between adjusting her hair and staring out the window, avoiding looking at you. You can sense her nervous energy, and it only makes the situation worse.

Finally, once you reach your apartment, you can't stand the silence anymore. You turn to her and ask, "Can we talk?" She looks up at you, surprised. "Yeah, sure."

You lead her inside and upstairs, both of you taking off your coats and shoes in complete silence. Usually this part of your routine is comforting, almost domestic, but at the moment, it’s suffocating, and you need to do something about it.

Finally, you both reach the living room and sit on the couch face to face, neither of you knowing where to start. The distance between you feels insurmountable, and you need to bridge the gap somehow.

“So…what was that tonight?” You’re mostly referencing the moment outside with your friends, but her behavior tonight was all over the place. Syd looks at you and sighs in irritation, her eyes dropping to her lap as she starts fiddling with her fingers. She knows she doesn’t have the right to be mad, but the only way she knows how to protect her feelings is to deflect or shut down, and she chooses the latter.

After a few more seconds of silence, you realize that this is her defense mechanism, a way to shield herself from being vulnerable. You feel a pang of frustration, wishing she would just be honest and open up. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking again.

“Syd, I’m just trying to understand. You were fine at the beginning of the night, you seemed to have a good time at the show, then when we got the party, you did a 180 on me and shut down, but then the whole thing outside…”, you didn’t even know what to call it. “What happened?”

Where do I even start, she thought. Inviting her out with your friends, then dragging her to another party, all while dangling some girl in your face? This is exactly why she has rules, so the lines don’t blur like this, she should’ve never agreed to go out. She stands up and begins pacing the floor as your eyes follow her, bracing yourself for the incoming storm.

“We’re not dating! I don’t even know why you wanted me to come hang out with you in the first damn place, you know the rules of our situation.” Her chest is heaving at this point, she knows she’s in the wrong but she needs someone to be upset at, and it’s not gonna be herself.

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you refuse to let her deflect responsibility for her actions. Now you stand up and take a step toward her, your eyes locking with hers.

"First of all, I didn't drag you to anything. You are a grown ass woman, and you're more than capable of making your own decisions. You chose to come with me tonight, no one forced you."

You pause, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Your frustration is evident, but underneath it all, there's a streak of pain.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "Second of all, what I want is for us to be honest with each other. We have an arrangement, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be open and communicative."

She stands there, arms crossed and her face set in a frown, now avoiding your gaze. You feel your frustration mounting higher and higher, but you know that you have to find a way to get through to her, somehow.

"Syd, I’m so tired of this. I'm tired of us avoiding talking about anything serious just because you’re afraid to get hurt." That finally sets her off, you see the blaze in her eyes and you know you’re really in for it now. With clenched fists, she finally meets your gaze again, her expression fierce and defensive.

"Don't act like you know me, like you know what I’m feeling," she practically spits out. "You don’t know anything about me, about what I’ve been through.”

Her words are sharp and biting, but you can tell that beneath her anger, there's a hint of pain, a vulnerability that she’s desperately trying to hide.

“You’re right Syd! I don’t know what you’ve been through, because you won’t fucking tell me!” Your hands clutch your hair, you feel like you’re going round and round in circles with this girl. “That’s my whole point, that’s been my point this entire goddamn time!” You’re talking to a brick wall at this point, but you can’t stop yourself, you’ve kept a lid on your feelings all these months and they’ve finally boiled over.

Like pouring gasoline on a fire, you can almost see the steam coming from her ears. “You can’t fucking force someone to be vulnerable! That has to come on their own time, on my own time. All the fucking coffee drop offs and pizza nights in the world are not permission for you to come try and force me to open up to you, who the hell do you think you are?”

You feel the start of a lump forming in your throat, those coffee drop offs and pizza nights were many of the bright spots in your life lately, and the way she’s brushing them off as nothing is more painful than you expected it to be. At this point, you can tell the conversation is heading towards the point of no return, and you’re grasping at straws to get her to listen to you.

"I'm just trying to understand, Syd! I'm trying to break down these damn walls you've put up around yourself. I don't want to force you, but I can't keep going on like this. We've been doing this damn dance for months now, and I can't keep pretending it's not tearing me apart.” You know you don’t have the right to say that, but you’re hoping something will get through to her at this point.

She sneers at that. “Yeah, well no one asked you to do that, did they? You took that upon yourself, with your fucking savior complex, so don’t stand there and try and make me feel guilty for your choices. I’m not some stray off the street you can nurse back to health and make yourself feel good about, try fucking fixing yourself first before you come for me.”

As soon as the words leave Syd’s mouth, she regrets them but her pride holds her back from apologizing. She’s always had to be the one to guard her heart and that’s not gonna change for anyone, not even you.

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks, the fact that she thinks you’re trying to fix her, but more so the realization that she thinks so low of you. Your disappointment is palpable, shoulders hunching over as you accept the futility of the situation. You look at her, the woman you care for so deeply, and you feel your heart shattering.

"Maybe you’re right," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I did this to myself. Maybe I was a fool to think that I could help you, or make you feel something more."

You shake your head, the bitter taste of regret in your mouth.

She starts to feel a pang of guilt, her heart clenching at the sight of your slumped shoulders and defeated expression but her pride and fear keep her lips sealed shut. She has to stay on defense, it's all she knows.

You stand there, a swarm of thoughts running through your head, when she finally speaks. “I think it’s time we end this.”

Her words are like a blade to your heart, cutting through the last fragile threads of hope you'd been holding onto. You can feel the tears stinging your eyes, but you try to hold them back, refusing to let her see you break.

"You're probably right," you say quietly, not trusting your voice if you speak any louder. "This isn't working. We're not working."

You can feel the pain of loss already seeping into your soul, but you swallow it down, determined to hold onto what little dignity you have left.

You turn on your heel to walk towards your bedroom, and as you reach the doorway, you call over your shoulder. “Stay here tonight because it’s so late, but I think you should leave first thing in the morning.” You don’t wait for an answer as you step into your room and close the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding unusually loud in the quiet of the night. As you slide down against the door, the sobs you’ve been holding in all night finally break free, the pain and heartache you’d been holding onto for so long coming out in wave after wave of tears.

You try to muffle the sound by bringing the sleeves of your shirt up to your face, but the grief is loud and all-consuming. The thought of what could have been, and what would never be, feels like a knife twisting in your gut.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

okay! that was way longer and somehow angstier than I intended but I’m so proud of it 😆 I may go back and edit part 1 just so the overall vibes match a little better cause I feel like this one took a hard left turn but I did set out to write a heart wrenching piece so! feel like I did that lol anyways, comments are always welcome, good, bad, otherwise, as long as they’re constructive! lemme know if you want a part 3 cause honestly, leaving it here would be kinda fun 🫣