#also just wanted to tell you all something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kooyabooya · 2 days ago

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INSIGHT

m reader x gaeul // 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.

#kpop x male reader #kpop smut #ive smut #gaeul smut #ive gaeul #ive gaeul smut

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the-boy-meets-evil · 2 days ago

Text

lost in the west | kmg

(where your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend for the holidays so you can avoid more nagging from your mother. except your whole family thought you were already dating)

pairing: mingyu x f!reader genre: fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance rating: explicit, minors do not interact word count: 18.1k warnings: eating, drinking, mentions of christmas and holiday celebrations, reference to mingyu being afraid of heights, some minor family dynamic issues, so much kissing, fingering, big dick!mingyu, sex (just plain old missionary), i think that's it

author's note: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios studios for hosting the winter with you collab! it's been so fun to be part of (even if i forgot for a second that i had to include sunrise sledding, but we're ignoring that). i'm sorry this is a little late as a holiday fic but sometimes life happens and inspiration just doesn't want to strike. i'm not even going to say it's longer than i intended because that's just my brand atp. this is largely unedited.

author's note 2: i think there's going to be an epilogue but idk when that will be possible

tag list: @vitaminkyeom, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya (join my taglist here)

“You’re bringing your boyfriend back with you, aren’t you?” your mom asks, which makes you look sharply toward the phone. It’s on speaker because you’re in the middle of folding laundry. Your best friend also looks over towards your phone with a grimace, which makes you wish it wasn’t on speaker.

The thing is…you haven’t told your mom that your ex and you broke up about two months ago. Didn’t want to deal with all the sighing and interrogation while you’re rushing to finish end of the year deadlines at work. Somehow, you know it’ll be your fault. Never mind the fact that he cheated on you in your own apartment. But, that’s another story. Your mother will say something about how you shouldn’t be so picky and everyone makes mistakes. Say that sometimes it’s not your most attractive trait that you’re dedicated to your job. Say that you’re not getting any younger and remind you how many of your friends from school are already married or even having kids of their own. That’s one reminder you don’t really need. You see it every time you aimlessly scroll through your feed. Or when you open the mail and see another wedding invitation.

You sigh. “Well, actually…”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” your mother says with her own sigh. “You broke it off with this one, too?”

“I’m not going to get into it with you,” you say, gentle but firm.

“I don’t understand what could have made you break it off. You said he was like your best friend,” she reminds you.

This earns an eye roll from one of your actual best friends, Mingyu. He takes over folding your clothes for you as something to do and as a way to speed up the whole process.

“Well, he’s not and I don’t see any reality where I will forgive him for what he did to me. So, let’s move on,” you say.

“Maybe that’s okay. You know, one of my friends has a son who’s single and I could just…” she starts.

“No, absolutely not,” you say. This causes Mingyu to stifle his laughter with a hand.

“I don’t understand what the harm in meeting him is. He seems very nice and you’re not exactly getting any younger,” she says.

There it is. The conversation always somehow ends up at the same point. You’re not getting any younger. All your parents’ friends have been planning weddings and getting grandchildren. They all seem to understand the importance of building a family. Why do you have to be so focused on what’s wrong with every person you date? Why are you too wrapped up in work? Your parents constantly remind you how you seem too wrapped up in the city life to realize what you’re missing.

“I just don’t think…” you start but then trail off when Mingyu starts waving at you to get your attention. He’s pointing at himself and mouthing something you can’t understand.

“I know you don’t think, but just…” your mom starts and you mute yourself so you can figure out what your best friend wants.

“What, Mingyu?” you ask, sharper than you intend.

“Take me back with you for the holidays,” he says.

“What?” you ask.

“Take me…” he starts.

“No, I heard you. What are you on about?” you ask.

“You can just feed your mom some line. Tell her you and I just started dating. It doesn’t matter. Anything to just get her off your case,” he says.

“I’m not…what is wrong with you? I’m not going to just fake date you like some weird holiday movie,” you argue.

“Okay, first of all, rude. Those movies aren’t weird, they’re great. And second of all, what do you have to lose? Your mom loves me and she’ll be thrilled to see me. I already know everyone that’ll be at the parties and dinners. My parents are out of the country visiting my sister and her new boyfriend for the holidays, so I was only going to my cousin’s as kind of a pity invite. It can’t possibly fail,” he says.

“There are a lot of ways it could fail, actually,” you point out.

“Wow, are you going to leave me stranded for the holidays? I’m already rethinking this relationship,” Mingyu says through a pout. “My own partner doesn’t even want to spend the holidays with me. Are you embarrassed to bring me around your family?”

“So what do you say?” comes your mom’s voice. You had been blocking it out while talking to Mingyu, yet it still catches your attention.

You quickly unmute yourself and look away from Mingyu. “I…actually can’t, Mom. I’m sort of seeing someone different, but it’s new so I wasn’t going to mention…”

“Oh, you already found someone new, that’s wonderful!” she exclaims.

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know that he’s wearing a grin that’s entirely too satisfied. Even if he’s mostly kidding about being abandoned for Christmas, you know that it’s been bugging him that his parents decided to go abroad. You also know that he wouldn’t ever dream of inviting himself to tag long even if that’s what he wanted to do. He actually likes your family, sometimes more than you do.

“I’ll have to ask him if he’s willing to come with me, but…” you try to say before your mother cuts you off again.

“Tell him it simply wouldn’t be the holidays without him. I can’t wait to meet him. Oh, I’m going to tell your father. We may manage to get you married after all,” she says in seemingly one breath.

“I still haven’t…” you try again without any luck.

“I can’t wait to see you both! Love you!” she says.

“Love y-...” you say, but she’s already ended the call.

“I guess I have holiday plans after all,” Mingyu says and you fight the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“This is a terrible idea. I can’t pretend we’re dating,” you say and crinkle your nose.

“Oh, wow, have I offended your high standards?” he asks. “Should I remind you of your last two relationships?”

You do throw the pillow at him this time.

Despite all the questions from your parents about just who is coming home with you for the holidays, you insist that it needs to be a surprise. You definitely think that your parents will be surprised when they see Mingyu on their doorstep. Even though you only met Mingyu in college, the two of you have been nearly inseparable since then. He’s come with you to countless family events to keep you company, especially between other relationships. Your parents buy him Christmas presents every year and insist on video chatting with both of you on his birthdays. Your younger cousins ask when he’s going to be coming around again because they look up to him, both literally and figuratively. It’s kind of annoying sometimes because you wonder if they like him more than their own family member. But, you reason it away with them liking him for the same reasons that you do. He’s just so easy to be around, though they get more of his polite company attitude than you do. Around you, he’s much more relaxed and somehow more prone to pouting to get his way.

More unfortunately, the pout always seems to work on you. You pretend to be annoyed with it (well, it’s not always pretending, actually), but you give in every time. Which is fine when it’s just the two of you. It’s less fine when other friends are around because they all have smug looks. Convinced that you and him are end game and neither of you realizes yet. The worst, though, is when he slips into the pout mode around your family and you have to deal with the looks from your family members. It’s all worth it to have someone to act as a buffer, even if you’ll never tell him as much.

Before you get to that point of seeing your parents, you figure that you should stop by to see your childhood best friend first. Of course, he already knows the whole story with Mingyu and doesn’t seem entirely surprised. After all, he’s also known your mom nearly his whole life. Somehow you went from kids forced together when the parents hung out to adults that actually still genuinely love each other, which means he knows Mingyu well too. In his role as best friend, your current situation will not spare you from his teasing. That’s a role he’s happily embraced all your lives.

The smirk on his face is present as soon as he sees you and Mingyu walk into the coffee shop. Mingyu hasn’t even spotted him while he unwinds his scarf and heads to the counter to order drinks. You say you’re going over to sit with your friend and only then does Mingyu notice you’re not the first ones here.

“Hey Kwan, you good on your drink?” he calls.

“Yeah, thanks,” he calls back before his eyes turn on you like he’s got a secret.

You make your way over to his table and try not to react to the look he’s giving you. Typical Seungkwan looking like he’s about to burst with the latest gossip. Even when he knows exactly why you have Mingyu with you and even said, over text, he gets why you agreed. Ugh. You know better than to think he’ll let you live for even a second. Sometimes you think you need better friends.

“Has he gotten taller?” Seungkwan asks, casting his eyes over at your other friend.

“No, but for real,” you say with a laugh. “I swear, I see him constantly and I still feel like he’s getting taller.”

“Constantly, huh?” Seungkwan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re best friends,” you say with a sigh.

“And what am I?” he asks.

“Also my best friend. There’s no rule on having only one,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Are you nervous to head back to your parents’ house?” he asks, entirely switching approaches.

It’s not your first rodeo, though. “Why should I be? They like Mingyu, at least, so there won’t be any of the awkwardness beyond explaining that we’re dating now.”

“Which probably isn’t going to come as a surprise to them,” Seungkwan says.

“I mean, why wouldn’t it be a surprise?” you ask before you clock the look on his face. “Oh, don’t tell me this is more of that bullshit about how often I bring him around. You know my family is insufferable if I have to deal with them alone.”

“No, I just know for a fact that they’ve wondered if you were dating him before,” Seungkwan says as Mingyu finally joins you with two coffees in hand.

“That would mean she would need to have good enough taste to date someone as great as me,” he says when he sets your coffee in front of you.

“I’m so torn,” Seungkwan admits. “I could insult her taste in relationships, which, love you babe, but really? Or I could insult you as not really being any better than anyone she’s dated.”

“That one gets us both, though?” you point out, only a little offended.

“Option two it is,” Seungkwan agrees.

“Okay, enough of that. Fill me in on everything before I have to walk into the lion’s den,” you say.

It’s always the same when you catch up with Seungkwan. He’s thriving even though he chose not to leave the area where you grew up. It’s not that big of an area, but he’s found opportunities. You just found those opportunities a little further away. Just far enough away that your mother can’t easily pop by unannounced. That lead time before she shows up is usually enough that you can mentally prepare.

Seungkwan, for his part, really does brighten up the entire space, when he’s not being a demon. He’s got that kind of shine that can’t even be dulled by staying in the same general area as his family. He’s also better at setting boundaries, which he gently reminds you again. He doesn’t need the space and preparation time of his family showing up at his place unannounced because they all know that’s not allowed. It’s not that you’re a pushover, it’s just that it feels different. Even your parents seem to respect Seungkwan more than you at times. You try not to let the cynicism of being a woman seep into those feelings. But, it’s hard. Harder still when Seungkwan gives you the sympathetic look like he wants to agree and knows it won’t really help anything. He’s always been that special brand of ally. The one that actually does want to help and understands the inherent privilege.

Unfortunately, Seungkwan and his family won’t be coming to the events that your parents have planned for the next week, though they’re always invited. They wanted to do something more focused on their family instead. It probably seems like something over the top to anyone on the outside. To you, it just seems normal. This is how your parents always handle the holidays and most events seem to take place at their house.

All too soon, Seungkwan says that he needs to get back to something and reminds you that you can’t put off going home any longer. You’re already getting dangerously close to what your mother considers late. It’s probably not the best idea to test her patience before the week even starts.

Mingyu takes care of getting you over to your parents house. Maybe fake dating him for a week won’t be so bad when he takes care of driving without asking and doesn’t even need an address. Since he also already knows your entire family, he doesn’t need help with getting gifts to bring with him. That includes both something to give them when you get there as well as actual Christmas gifts. You remember telling him that wasn’t necessary and remember the look of horror on his face when he asked what kind of fake boyfriend he would be if he forgot. Despite the weirdness of the situation, you also find yourself far more at peace than the last time you brought an actual partner home like this. Mingyu has seen you through a lot of ups and downs. Knows when to be serious and when to crack a little joke to break the tension, even if it’s something only for your ears.

That all disappears as soon as your mother greets you at the door with a look of genuine surprise on her face.

“Surprise,” you say. It seems a little redundant because she seems shocked. “You, uh, you remember Mingyu, right?”

“Of course, of course, come in out of the cold,” she says, recovering quickly as she steps out of the way. “Let me get your coats.”

“I know this is probably a bit of a surprise,” you start.

“It definitely is,” she agrees as she takes Mingyu’s and your coats. “Your father is just in the family room.”

“I figured it would be a good surprise,” you offer as you start to follow her into the house.

“No, of course it is. We adore Mingyu, you know that,” she says with a soft smile for Mingyu. She’s always loved him. “We just, well, we thought you and him had broken up…”

“Broken…what?” you ask, your own shock now matching your mother’s as you come to a complete halt.

Mingyu seems to just stay quiet through this entire exchange. You’re wondering why until you look over at him to see that he’s barely containing his laughter. Of course he would find this whole thing funny. Maybe he believes Seungkwan that your parents have wondered if you were dating him. Or maybe he’s just quicker on the uptake. Whatever it, it would be annoying if your brain wasn’t working overtime to try and catch up.

“Yes, you said you’d broken up with a boyfriend. Your father and I realized we hadn’t actually met the last person you dated and we just assumed, since you only mention Mingyu. Well, you said he was like your best friend and we knew it wasn’t Seungkwan. Mingyu only made sense,,” your mother says with a shrug.

“Mingyu! What are you doing here?” your father asks, rising from his seat to shake your best friend’s hand.

“Dating our daughter, apparently,” your mother says with a skeptical look.

“Oh, good! I’m glad you kids worked it out,” he says.

“Did…everyone just think I was dating…?” you start to ask, looking confusedly between your parents. “Mom, Dad, I was not dating Mingyu. We were only…”

“Friends?” your mother supplies through her heavy tone of disbelief.

“Yes,” you say, eyes wide and desperate looking to Mingyu for support.

“We really were just friends,” Mingyu says. “I mean, I guess not just friends. But, seeing her go through another heartbreak just made me realize that I didn’t want to see her go through something like that again. I guess it just made me realize how much I do care about her. So, I finally said something.”

There’s a lot that you can count on Mingyu for. Driving, having an endless supply of oversized hoodies to steal, a stocked kitchen, the best meals of your life, 2 am chats, support through break ups, hating the same people, being scared of his own shadow, a perpetual golden retriever energy, endless loyalty, and the list goes on. Something you never expect to count on Mingyu for, though? The lie that spills so easily from his lips to try and get your parents off your case. Sure, he knows just how much you struggle with your relationship with them. This is different, though. The lie sounds so sincere and his face looks so soft when he glances over at you.

“You know, it’s okay if you just got back together,” your mother says, looking between the two of you.

“Oh my god, that’s not what happened!” you say, throwing your hands up.

“Of course, dear, of course,” your father says.

“I should go take our suitcases upstairs. Am I just in the normal guest room?” he asks.

It’s both a deflection from the conversation and a valid question all rolled into one. Whatever the case, it does work for long enough to have your mother refocus her attention on Mingyu to answer. That gives you at least a second to catch your breath. Bringing Mingyu was supposed to give you a break from your parents. And it will, you think, but it’s also bringing up a lot that you hadn’t planned on. You wonder what Seungkwan will say when you tell him about the reception. Probably that he told you so.

“Oh, no dear. We planned to have you stay in our daughter’s old room with her,” your mother says.

Great. Now you’re in an entirely new spiral because, what? She has you and Mingyu staying in the same room where there is only one bed? You can’t remember the last time she was this relaxed with a partner you brought home, which brings up even more questions. Has this really been the plan? Or is only the plan now because of how much they like him? Is this just another way for them to try and nudge you into marriage?

“But, mom…” you start to protest.

“We’ve got a full house with family, dear,” she says as an explanation.

“I know where it is, I’ll just take the stuff up,” Mingyu offers.

“I can help,” you say as a way to get out of this whole thing and to talk to your friend.

“Pretty sure I’m strong enough to get some luggage upstairs,” he jokes and you roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you go up with him anyway? Then you can freshen up before dinner,” your mother says with a poorly disguised look at your slightly wrinkled clothing.

Mingyu insists on carrying the bigger suitcases upstairs on his own, but you grab the smaller bags you had in the car with you. Well, except for his backpack that he also stubbornly carries. You don’t need a personal demonstration, you already know that he’s strong. You also don’t need to hear your mother talking about how nice it is to have such a polite young man around like he hasn’t been around a million times before. Once you’re inside the room and behind a closed door, you round on your friend.

“What the hell was that?” you ask.

“Your mom actually letting you and a boyfriend stay in the same room? I don’t know. It’s crazy, right?” he asks.

“Not that, what was with you?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” he returns, looking up from his suitcase where he had been getting ready to unpack.

“That whole answer you gave my mom,” you say and he looks almost pitying.

“I have to make it believable, don’t I?” he asks like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Otherwise, she won’t buy it and she’s going to try to set you up.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you concede.

“Kind of wild that they thought we’d been dating, though,” he adds on.

“Yeah, what was that?” you ask with more force than you mean.

He only shrugs. “I don’t know, they’re your parents.”

“Seungkwan said the same thing,” you remind him.

“About people thinking we’re dating?” he asks, eyes back on his suitcase.

“Yeah,” you say.

He only chuckles before he looks up. “Come on, that’s not the first time either. How many of our friends have thought the same thing?”

“They’re just fucking with us,” you disagree.

“And my ex?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, well in my defense, she was insane. The whole idea that people of the opposite sex can’t be friends is an insane take,” you say.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly upset to be rid of her,” he agrees.

“Come on. We better hurry up and get back downstairs,” you say.

The rest of the day is somehow just as weird, but also comforting. As the rest of the family starts arriving, either to stay or just for dinner, you find out that most of your family thinks you’ve been dating Mingyu. Or that it was him that you broke up with and are now back together with. It’s hard to tell if it’s something coming from your parents or just a general vibe that the two of you give off. You can at least acknowledge that you didn’t talk about your last relationship much with your family. Hindsight is always clearer, but you still think you knew something was off in that relationship the whole time. Knew that he wasn’t destined to go the distance. Maybe that’s why the break up didn’t hurt that bad. Honestly, the worst part was thinking of facing your family alone for Christmas.

Mingyu saves you from that as he’s saved you countless times before.

That brings you to the more comforting part of the evening. You can’t tell if any of your family members actually buy that this is a new relationship. At least, none of them seem to think it’s fake. You can probably put up with it if they just think you’re lying about when you actually got together. That makes it all feel much easier. Then, there’s the fact that your entire family loves Mingyu. It’s the first time you can remember joining the dinner to kick off the family Christmas festivities in years. Your family takes the holidays very seriously and it’s Mingyu’s first time experiencing it like this. Yet, he slots right in with everything.

It also feels like he’s thought through this whole fake relationship in ways you didn’t. Sure, you talked about some of the ins and outs since this isn’t just a quick overnight trip. But, mostly, you just decide it’s easiest to keep it as close to the truth as possible. The friendship is so deep that there’s genuine love there. You don’t have to fake that. What you did not consider is physical affection. You’re not the kind of person that drapes yourself all over a partner, never have been. There’s a moment where you worry, as you watch your cousin and her fiancé, that you and Mingyu could be found out for not showing enough affection.

A few minutes later, you’re wishing he would be less affectionate. And you’re not even sure why you worried. The first thing you really learned about Mingyu was that he was incredibly physically affectionate. Tight hugs, random hand holding, an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your arm or leg. It’s all just par for the course with him. It’s gotten even more obvious now that he’s pretending to date you. It seems so innocuous, too. He’s got his hand on your thigh, giving the occasional squeeze, while he’s talking to someone else. He randomly plants a kiss on your temple. He leans over to whisper something to you on the pretense of being close and usually it’s nothing. You don’t even realize that it has most of your family giving each other knowing looks. Like they’re still not convinced you hadn’t been dating before.

By the time it’s late enough to go upstairs, you’re more than ready to have time away from your family. Every time you think that you’re social, your family is there to humble you. Or maybe it’s just that being around them is too draining. In any case, you and Mingyu head upstairs together. Thankfully, your parents house is big enough that it feels like there’s a little bit of privacy in your old bedroom.

“So, how’s this going to work?” Mingyu asks, glancing at the bed and then into the attached bathroom.

Okay, so maybe, even with how big the house is, you haven’t fully considered everything. You’re not really sure what to do. It shouldn’t be weird. You and Mingyu have shared a bed before. This just somehow feels intimate when your entire family thinks you’re sharing because you’re in a relationship and don’t know this is all pretend so you can have a little bit of peace for the holidays. Your gift to yourself. Shaking it all off, you turn to Mingyu.

“I mean, we’ve shared before. It’ll be fine,” you say.

“So are we not gonna talk about the last time we shared?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

Racking your brain, you can’t really think of anything that would make him say that. Had something awkward happened? Did one of you do something that you should really remember? Just as you’re about to go into a full blown spiral, you feel Mingyu appear before you. He reaches out to smooth out the line between your eyebrows.

“Don’t hurt yourself there,” he says with a laugh. “You whined about me taking up too much space.”

“Oh my god,” you say and swat at him. “It was a tiny bed and you took up the entire thing! You can’t do this to me when I’m already wound tight over my family.”

“Sorry,” he says and throws up his hands. The sparkle in his eyes says that he’s anything but.

“I’m going to change and then start my skincare routine,” you say as you move to grab something to wear to bed.

Without even asking if you’re dressed, Mingyu comes into the bathroom to start doing his own skincare routine while you’re in there. He’s already changed into a t-shirt and shorts, which you know is more than he normally wears to bed. It’s somehow peaceful to go through your routines in silence like this. You consider that it might be in part because it forces him to be quiet. Not that you usually mind his chatter, it’s just that your brain is already tired from one night dealing with your family. You can’t imagine how the rest of the days are going to go and are thankful for the downtime when you’ll be able to get out of the house to do things.

Once you’re back in the bedroom, you both finish off all the little things you need to do. You plug in your phone after checking for any important notifications, grab the TV remote to fling it over to Mingyu, and slide under the covers. Usually you just kind of scroll before going to sleep or sometimes you’ll read. But, you think it might be weird to do those things when you’re sharing a bed with someone else.

“Do I need to make a pillow wall or something?” he asks as he’s flipping through to find something to watch.

Your head whips to the side to look at him. Even though it’s only his profile, you can see that he’s smirking. Purposefully not looking at you because he knows it’ll break the little composure he has. To deal with that, you whack him with a pillow.

“Just don’t drape your entire body over me,” you say.

“Why?” he asks and does turn to look at you now, wiggling his eyebrows. “Afraid it’ll be too close?”

“No, you fucking goober, you’re just heavy,” you say through a genuine laugh.

“How is this relationship ever going to work if we’re calling each other names?” he says, pretending to be heartbroken.

“Same way it has for like 8 years,” you joke back with a soft smile.

“Are you saying you love me?” he asks, hand on his heart. This is one of your favorite things about your friendship with Mingyu because he’s so dramatic that it takes your mind off everything else.

“I don’t know, I’m rethinking it,” you say and turn back to the TV.

“I love you too, you know,” he says, voice soft enough to make you turn back to him.

“I know, Gyu. I don’t think anyone else would put themselves through this for me, so thank you,” you say honestly.

He just shrugs and goes back to a lighter place. “Well, I didn’t have good holiday plans and who can say no to this level of entertainment?”

The next day actually gives you time to catch up with some of your family members more personally instead of everything being such big conversations. That’s especially true for your cousin, Mimi, who’s only two years younger than you and has always been your favorite of your cousins. Even if you go months without seeing each other, it always feels like no time passes. There’s just a level of closeness and understanding between the two of you. You can complain about your mothers since they’re sisters and honestly the same person, just in a different font. It’s easy to be on the same page about things as well.

You’re actually a little surprised to see that she’s here alone, even though you know she recently got out of a bad relationship. Somehow, it seems her mom is more understanding than your own. She was also much more honest about how the relationship fell apart after 3 years and her mom is sympathetic about it. When she says it like that, you understand. Your last few relationships have all been measured in months rather than years.

“You’re not, like, actually dating Mingyu though, are you?” she asks quietly when it’s just the two of you.

“Mimi,” you hiss and look around.

“We’re alone,” she assures you with a wave of her hand. “So, spill.”

“No,” you say hesitantly. “Why?”

“I’m just curious,” she says unconvincingly.

“He was with me when my mom was bugging me about the holidays and bringing someone with me. Then she was going to set me up, so he just offered…” you start.

“He was the one who suggested it?” she asks, far more curious than she should be.

“Yeah,” you say simply. “Again, why?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve just always thought he was cute and I was wondering if he’s actually single.”

“You cannot hit on Mingyu,” you whisper through gritted teeth. She gives you a look you can’t place before brushing it off.

“Oh, I’m not saying I would. It’s just good to know I could,” she says.

“You can’t,” you remind her. “Everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do it anywhere anyone else could see,” she teases.

Of course, another of our cousins picks that moment to join you, so you can’t further chastise Mimi. It irritates you all the same though. How does she think it’s just fine to do something like that when you’re supposed to be in a fake relationship? Could she not just wait to hit on him until the rest of your family wasn’t watching with too much attention?

Normally, Mimi is a respite from the rest of your family. She’s one of the few people that you’re always completely honest with. Now, she’s taken that away. You try to go about the rest of the day with her knowing that the relationship is fake and she seems like she’s trying her best to get under your skin. Every part of you wants to stop her from chatting so much to Mingyu and you can’t. It would seem weird when everyone knows that you and your cousin are close. Weirder still when she always knows Mingyu relatively well from every other time he’s been to some family event.

When you excuse yourself up to your bedroom for a second away from your parents and their incessant hint dropping, Mingyu slips into the room just after you. Which is odd, considering you had not even seen him also slip away. The second odd thing comes when you look at his face. He looks more serious than usual, more tired. It doesn’t fully make sense because he’s incredibly social. Loves to be around people in the way all true extroverts do. Something must be wrong.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks after closing the door.

“You don’t ever have to ask,” you say with clear apprehension.

“Did you tell Mimi we weren’t actually dating?” he asks, still looking at you in a way you can’t place.

You exhale, thinking it’ll be nothing. “Oh, that, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it to you, I just…”

“Did you also tell her that I’m very single and she should go ahead and shoot her shot?” he asks and you stop short hearing that.

“I - what?” you ask.

“She just kind of cornered me and was laying it on super thick, but she said it was fine because she knows we’re not really dating and that you’d encouraged her to…” he starts and you immediately cut him off.

“What the actual fuck, Mimi?” you say in frustration.

“I mean, if you want me to…” he tries to start again, looking a little like a lost or kicked puppy. It makes you immediately close the space between you and him.

“Gyu, no. I did tell her that we weren’t actually dating, but I absolutely did not tell her it was okay to do any of that, let alone encourage it,” you say.

“So you don’t want me to flirt back?” he asks. He’s still looking Too Serious when he says it and you’re not really sure how to feel.

“Since we’re supposed to be dating, I’d prefer you didn’t. But, if you think she’s pretty it’s not like I can stop you,” you say noncommittally.

“Of course I think she’s pretty. You and your whole family are pretty. It’s like something in a TV show or some shit,” he says and this is a Mingyu you recognize because he’s rolling his eyes.

“Oh yeah, says the guy who looks like that,” you say and vaguely gesture at him.

“I…did you just compliment me?” he asks, totally off track from wherever he was going.

“That depends, did you compliment me first?” you deflect.

“You’re such a shithead,” he grumbles and you tsk at him.

“Now, now sweetheart, should we really be name calling?” you tease.

He fixes you with his attempt at an unimpressed stare, but he’s nowhere near as good at it as you are. Like every other time, he relents first. “I’ve probably told you how beautiful you are hundreds of times in our friendship.”

“Which I’ve always returned,” you lie.

“Be so for real. I have to pull most compliments out of you,” he says through a snort. When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “Most compliments that are not about my cooking, I should say.”

“People fall all over you,” you say with a good natured eye roll of your own. “Do you really need to hear me also say you could easily be a model?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he mumbles through a pout.

“Oh, beautiful Mingyu,” you start, taking on the silliest voice you can muster. “You’re so pretty that I could cry. Your face breaks hearts every day, your smile lights up the room, your hair…”

“Okay, okay, enough,” he says even though he looks pleased.

“I cannot believe Mimi, though,” you say.

“I’m glad you’re not trying to push us together,” he admits.

“Why? Not interested?” you tease.

He answers seriously, though. “No. She’s pretty, sure, but no, I’m definitely not interested, even if I wasn’t pretending to date you.”

That honest answer strikes something in you. Not that honesty is unusual between the two of you. It just feels like there’s also an element of vulnerability in the response as well. Like he’s saying something that you just can’t quite decipher. You just brush aside for now, though, since there’s nothing else you really can do.

Mingyu, as it turns out, has one winter time tradition that he’s always wanted to try and never had the chance to do: sledding. He’s never lived in any place where it’s snowy enough or there’s enough free space. But, up here in the relative mountains where your parents live, sledding is a way of life. It’s something you’ve done countless times growing up with friends or family. Part of you is even a little thankful that he wants to do it, too. It’s been years since you’ve gone sledding and getting to see his face when you go for the first time feels special. Feels like something that’s just for you.

Which is why you’re up before the sun.

Last night, when you talked about sledding and getting an early start, Mingyu was on board. Now that it’s time to actually get up, you can see it written all over his face that he’s regretting every decision that’s ever led him to this moment. Like the true best friend that he is, though, he’s keeping the actual grumbling to a minimum. You’re not sure why you’re not also grumbling. You’re not a morning person. But, you’ve never gone sledding at sunrise either and something about it just seems like it’ll be magical. Like it really will make it an entirely new experience for you and him to share.

The house is quiet as you grab the bag of snow pants and winter jackets that you packed the night before from the closet in the entryway. Everything feels so peaceful in the house and just as still when you leave. Like even the soft sound of the door is too much while the whole world sleeps. You can hear the slight crunch under your feet as you trudge over to Mingyu’s car and take care not to be too loud getting in. Thank him again for driving when you know it’s way earlier than he wants to be awake. All he does is smile like there’s nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

The drive to the hill where you’re going to sled is quick and also tranquil. Even the music is soft like Mingyu is afraid of disrupting the peace. Or maybe you’re both just appreciating something different than the normal bustle of life in a city. It’s never this kind of quiet there and there’s something kind of beautiful about it. Even the parking lot is empty when you get to the small hill that you used to sled down as a kid. You’ve never seen it empty before. Then again, you’ve never been before the sun rose, either. Mingyu takes care to unload the sleds before you both bundle up. It’s not terribly cold, but you make him put on the waterproof gear anyway.

He stops at the bottom of the hill and looks towards the top. “We’re going all the way up there?”

You can hear a little bit of nerves in his voice. Mingyu has never been a fan of heights. This isn’t that high, though, and you nudge him playfully. Well, it doesn’t seem high to you. “I think you can manage. Come on.”

Climbing up to the top is always your least favorite part because it uses the most energy. Not that you mind the activity, it’s just a lot of work for a relatively short ride back down the hill on the sled. At least this hill has stairs built into the slope off to the side to help you. Once you’re at the top, you plop down with Mingyu right beside you. It’s less about catching your breath and more about appreciating the view. It seems like you can see for miles even though you’re not that high up. The sun starts to rise and you know it’s all worth it. All the shades of orange and pink stretch across the horizon as the sun makes its way over the distant mountains. There aren’t any words that come to mind to really capture how beautiful it is. The colors are more vibrant against the white of the snow all around you. Everything feels magnified in the quiet space. All either of you can do is utter out a soft wow to express your awe.

And then the quiet really is broken.

“Okay you expect me to slide down that on a piece of plastic?” he asks with a hint of panic in his voice.

You follow his gaze and look down the hill, because it really is only a hill. Not anything crazy. It always looks a little more intimidating from the top, but it isn’t anything all that high.

“Oh come on you giant baby,” you tease and nudge him. “We got all the way up here, how else are you going to get down?”

“Walk back down the stairs they so nicely provided?” he offers.

“That’s crazy,” you say.

“I’m afraid of heights!” he shouts, more panic in his voice.

“I know, Gyu,” you say, instantly softening as you approach him to put your hand on his arm.

“I didn’t really think this through,” he admits.

“Why did you agree to sledding down a hill?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks out over vista before him. You watch as a calm comes back over him. The kind of calm that can only come from a setting as pretty as this one. Watch him take a couple steadying breaths. Even though you’ve been friends with Mingyu for years, you’ve never really seen his fear of heights firsthand. Couldn’t have imagined it would kick in for something as seemingly innocuous as a small sledding hill. Though, admittedly, it is a pretty decent size. It’s definitely not just the kind of hill people sled down in their backyards or local parks.

“Because I wanted to try sledding and do something new. And this hill seemed important to you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not going to say no to something you ask me to do when you get that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” you ask to avoid considering a deeper meaning to his words.

“I don’t know. You get all starry eyed,” he says with a shrug.

“How about this? We can go down together and check it off the list. You don’t have to sled again,” you offer.

“We came all the way out here,” he says, unsure.

“And I got to see the prettiest sunrise of my life with my best friend beside me,” you say easily.

“Okay, okay. I can at least try,” he says.

You get up and send the smaller of the sleds down the hill without anyone on it in case you really only take the one ride. It would be a hassle to have to come back up and get it. Then, you position yourself on the bigger sled that’s meant for two people (or three kids sometimes when you were younger). Once you’re in place, you motion for Mingyu to settle in behind you. Point out where he can put his legs on either side of you, which already feels closer than normal even with how affectionate Mingyu can be. You adjust so that your back is pressed against his chest. It’s about the right balance to the sled so that you’re less likely to topple over on the way down. Mingyu has to crowd into your space to wrap his arms around your middle because he’s bigger than you are, something you hadn’t considered when suggesting this. You can almost tell that he’s considering burying his face in your hair, but stops short.

At least, until you push over the edge with a combination of wiggling and using your hands to push your forward. That’s when he buries his face. Then, you’re slowly picking up speed as you slide down the completely untouched snow. It’s always best like this, in your opinion. Before there are lanes carved into the snow. Yes, those lanes pack the snow down and can make you go faster, but you can also catch an edge and topple over more easily.

None of that is really on your mind once you start descending though. All you can think of is the way Mingyu’s body feels pressed against yours. How it’s very foreign but also very comforting. How you can understand why your whole family so easily believes that you’re together. The comfort is effortless, something you don’t ever think about. It just exists. You focus on how funny it is to have this giant of a man wrapped around you like a koala with his head buried in your hair now because he’s nervous. You don’t even consider any other way that it might make you feel. When you let out a squeal of delight as the sled picks up more speed, you feel, rather than hear, him grumble by the tickle of his breath in your hair. It only makes him cling more tightly to you.

It’s almost disappointing when you feel the sled level out at the bottom of the hill and slow down. It’s been the perfect way to relive one of the parts of your childhood that you loved the most. Getting to do silly little things like this really was one of the best parts of winter. You’re fully stopped before you realize that Mingyu is still clinging to you with everything he has. So, you carefully place a hand over his and feel him untense the tiniest bit.

“It’s okay, we made it to the bottom in one piece.”

Slowly, he loosens his grip on you and actually looks up. Again, you feel this rather than seeing it. You feel the absence of his body heat and only then realize just how tightly he was clinging to you. Mingyu pulls his face out of your hair and seems to look around, as if testing that you’re really at the bottom of the hill. Like he’s not sure it’s over that quickly.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“No, it was a lot of fun.”

“Do you think…could we maybe go again?”

Both of you are standing up again now and it makes you whip your head around to look at him because you can’t believe this scaredy cat actually wants to go down again after how much it took to get him down the first time. His face is hopeful, though, and you’re not about to start saying no to that face now. Not when you never have before. So you match his smile.

“On one condition,” you finally say. Mingyu only looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue. “You have to actually keep your eyes open this time.”

“You don’t know I had my eyes closed,” he insists with a pout.

“Gyu, your face was in my hair,” you say through a laugh.

“Okay, fine. Eyes open. But, I have my own condition, too,” he fires back, still kind of pouting.

“Yes?”

“I want to ride together again.”

It’s easy to agree to that. Even though you don’t say it out loud, it’s kind of fun riding with him, especially when the hill is so untouched. He’s tall and muscular, very helpful when it comes to carving a path and also picking up speed. He adds to the momentum and you like going faster. You don’t consider telling him that he wouldn’t go quite as fast without you because you would be losing on as well. It’s not a bad deal for either of you, really. Mingyu gets to work a little on a fear of heights on something much more manageable and you get to live out your best sled dreams.

Each run gets a little bit easier. Mingyu holds up his end of the bargain and actually opens his eyes, which is more entertaining to you than it probably should be as he curses all the way down that first run. But, he keeps wanting to go and you’re not going to stop him. Don’t realize that maybe he also keeps going because he loves to see the way your face lights up each run. Neither of you makes an effort to get the other sled again either.

By the time the sun is fully risen, yours and Mingyu’s cheeks are rosy from the cold. And also from the way you’ve taken to running back up the steps to the top like kids. You have to admit, even if it means he’ll get a big head, this is the most fun you’ve had in your hometown during the holidays in a long time. Honestly, it might actually be the most fun you’ve had anywhere in a while. It’s nice to get back to something simpler without worrying about anything else. Life can get busy back in the city between work and chores and endless responsibility. Sometimes it’s nice to just take a break from it all. Remember that there are more important things than just working all the time or being stressed about things you can’t really control. Maybe there’s something to simplifying life a bit.

Now that the sun is rising, it’s a more acceptable time for people to be out and about themselves. Kids can convince their parents to take them sledding as well. At the first sign of people approaching, you and Mingyu agree that it should be your last run. You’re starting to get a little tired and you know it’ll get loud. You don’t mind having the kids around, you just know it gets harder to avoid everyone and you have to wait longer between each run. Besides, you planned something post sledding as well. It catches you off guard that he actually seems a little sad to be leaving.

That is, until you take him to this little hole in the wall of a breakfast place. It’s something new because you’re not usually in this area when he comes with you to family events. Not that it’s far, it’s just a few towns over and there are closer places. Until winter comes around again and the elderly couple that runs the place roll out their secret recipe for hot cocoa. Honestly, you could probably just drink that without even ordering anything to eat and be the happiest person in the world. The food is amazing too, though, and you didn’t eat before leaving to go sledding. You and Mingyu order a few things to share and laugh all the way through it, talking about sledding and the trip so far.

“Thanks for this,” he says as breakfast is winding up.

You’re a little surprised at both his words and the gentleness of his tone. “For what?”

“Taking me sledding like this. That sunrise was amazing and I, well, I guess I didn’t think I’d have as much fun as I did,” he admits, a little more shy than you’re used to.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” you say and can’t quite place the look he gives you.

“I think I’d trust you with just about anything.”

The day before Christmas is always the same. By then, you’re in desperate need of a break from your family and you think they may be in need of a break from you as well. So, each year you get together with Seungkwan and some of your other friends that still live in the area. Anyone with a partner brings them along and you have a nice, boozy brunch. This year, Seungkwan is hosting because his place is spacious and the group seems a little bigger. It’s also nice to get to really spend some time at his place since he’s only been there a few months.

Typically, a few people in the friend group will bring over some pre-made things to warm up the next day as well as everyone bringing whatever they want to drink and share. That’s the same for this year with a slight change. Mingyu, once he sees the kitchen, says that he just has to make some food as well. After taking an inventory, he heads back out to buy more things that he needs, ignoring any of your protests and only agreeing to take your card so you can sort out the cost with your friends. (You’re not going to do that because you don’t mind just covering it, but you don’t want him to cover it either.)

When he gets back, he immediately goes into the kitchen and your friend Vernon’s girlfriend offers to help. She drags Seungkwan’s sister, who doesn’t usually come around, with her as well. Mingyu only leaves the kitchen long enough to bring you one of the mimosas that he made, insisting there’s a special ingredient. Then, it’s back to fully focusing on the food. Not that you really mind. It’s nice to just be in a low stress environment with your friends to catch up, have some drinks, and laugh a lot.

Vernon, after looking around to make sure nobody else is listening, shows you and Seungkwan the ring he’s been walking around with for the past few weeks. Apparently, he’s finally settled that he’s going to propose to his girlfriend tomorrow on Christmas Day. You’re thrilled because they’ve been together forever and she already feels like family. Seungkwan nearly bursts into tears, which you have to quickly cover so nobody realizes what’s happening. You love that your best friend is like that. It’s just not the time if you want to keep it a secret that Vernon wants to propose.

It also feels nice to be in a group where you don’t have to pretend. Nothing changes all that much for how you and Mingyu are together because he’s always affectionate with you. But, you get to trade any of the not-so-subtle comments about when you’re going to get married to the relentless teasing about how he passes as your boyfriend so easily. It’s nice to have someone joking about it and you find you don’t even mind. Especially when Mingyu chimes in with his own little comments from the kitchen. There seems like there’s a lot of laughter in there as well.

“You’re going to have to dress him better if he’s going to keep posing as your boyfriend,” Seungkwan jokes and you look over at the kitchen.

Mingyu is wearing this kind of awful green zip up sweater. It’s not even that nice, soft material. But, he insisted on wearing it because he wanted to wear something with Christmas colors and it was the only thing he had apart from his outfit for tomorrow. It makes you roll your eyes again remembering it.

“I know,” you sigh. “Usually he dresses so well and then there’s that.”

Your eyes drift back over to him in the kitchen again and you kind of wish you hadn’t looked back. You catch him as something falls off a spoon he’s using to taste test and onto his skin. And, without seeming to think about it, he sucks it off his hand. Then, licks along his finger for good measure. It makes your heart stutter a little in a way that’s completely foreign to you. Why are you so entirely transfixed by someone who’s supposed to be your best friend and fake boyfriend doing that?

“Hey, you good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping in front of your eyes.

You shake your head to clear it before turning back to him. “Yeah, sorry, zoned out for a second.”

“Uh huh,” he says skeptically, but you catch his eyes darting over to Mingyu.

“Don’t,” you warn him, causing him to throw his hands up in defense.

“I won’t,” he says. “But, if you decide you want to talk about it…”

“Talk about what?” Mingyu asks. You hadn’t even seen him leave the kitchen.

“The issue she’s having with Mimi,” Seungkwan lies quickly.

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “She won’t leave me alone.”

“And that seems to be driving both of you crazy,” Seungkwan observes.

“Well, yeah, our bestie is just being a good friend and she knows I’m uncomfortable,” Mingyu says before you can answer. Is that all it is? For the first time, you’re not sure.

“I’m not sure how I feel about sharing a best friend,” Seungkwan says with feigned distaste.

Mingyu tries to give The Look again, but fails even worse than with you. Nobody can outdo Seungkwan and so he gives up. “Food is ready.”

“Oh good, I’m starving,” Vernon interrupts.

The rest of brunch goes by without Seungkwan making any other comments. To you, at least. You don’t see him sit down next to Mingyu after the food is done like it’s casual and unplanned. Nothing that man ever does is either of those things, though. What you do notice is how easily he fits into this group of friends. Sure, he knows Seungkwan pretty well and he’s met nearly everyone there. But, he doesn’t get to spend much time around them. Not really, in the grand scheme of things. It isn’t really surprising, if you think about it, because they’re all close friends of yours and he tends to think you have good taste where friends are concerned.

It is a little weird, you think as Mingyu sits on the other side of the room, that he seems to be a little glued to his phone now that things are getting closer to wrapping up. He checks it mid conversation and furrows his brow at whatever he sees. Both seem unusual. Mingyu is always one of those people that gives his full attention to a conversation. Unless it’s an emergency, he likes to be present in a moment. It’s one of your favorite things about him. It’s also unlike him to be so upset by something on his phone. You can’t think of any person that would be creating that reaction from him. Or anyone that he wouldn’t just ignore until later. You try to put it out of your mind as best you can. If it’s something serious, he’ll talk to you about it. At least, you hope.

Any other time, you would be thrilled to have your favorite cousin staying at your parents’ house for the holidays. She’s always been your confidant and one of your safe spaces. Now? You can’t stand it. You really wish she would be literally anywhere else. Just the sight of her is getting to be enough to set you off. It seems like she’s really taking it to heart that Mingyu is single. You’re not sure what her game is and you hate it.

Of course, she manages to corner you the second you’re back to your parents’ house. You’re not exactly paying all that much attention, though. The end of brunch with your friends had been a little weird, even if nobody else noticed it. Mingyu accepted all the praise for the things he made, but was distracted by his phone. Someone, you’re not really sure who, kept sending him messages. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be making him happy. Not that you really have any right to ask him who’s blowing up his phone. It’s just a little weird. Usually he’s so present in events like brunch. It’s odd to see him constantly checking his phone. Odder still that he had headed off to the bedroom as soon as you got back. You’re a little buzzed from the mimosas. Mingyu, on the other hand, is very sober.

“There you are,” Mimi says, appearing as if out of thin air. It makes you jump back, hand on your heart.

“Jesus,” you gasp out.

“No, Mimi,” she jokes. Any other time, it would make you laugh. You’re not so entertained with her now.

“What are you sneaking up on me for?” you ask instead.

She rolls her eyes and looks around. “I’m not sneaking up on you. I was just trying to catch you away from the others.”

“Why?”

“Why do you have that fake boyfriend of yours on such a tight leash?”

Out of habit, you look around to make sure nobody is listening. Everyone seems too busy, though. “I don’t have Mingyu on a leash.”

“Then explain why he’s basically refusing to answer any of my texts,” she says, arms crossed.

“I don’t know why…wait a minute. Was it you texting him while we were at brunch?” you ask.

This, somehow, seems to satisfy her. “Oh, so he’s not telling you who’s texting him.”

“I didn’t ask, honestly.”

“Well, I don’t see why he’d be ignoring - “

Your brain catches up then. “Hang on. How the fuck did you get his number?”

Mimi rolls her eyes again with a huff. “Please. You’ve had the same passcode on your phone for ages. I just grabbed it when you left your phone out.”

“That’s so fucked, Mimi. You can’t just go through my phone or take his number,” you say.

“You’re no fun anymore,” she says with a whine.

You’re not interested in hearing anything else she has to say because you just want to talk to Mingyu. This is getting insane that she’s going to this amount of trouble just to try to get to him. Yet, it’s also weird he kept it to himself that she was texting him. The two of you have talked a lot about the shit Mimi pulls in order to get close to him. Why is it different now that she’s texting him while he’s out with your friends? Is he starting to get worn out from dealing with the insanity of your family? Every other time he’s been around, it’s been really chill. This time, not so much.

Up in your room, you don’t initially see Mingyu. You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Maybe him on his phone texting or else complaining to another friend about how this whole trip is going. Or even talking to his sister about getting out to see her instead of staying here. None of that happens, though. Instead, you find him in the bathroom applying a face mask. It’s a little ridiculous and definitely the last thing you expect. But, you also know that it’s a sign he’s carrying some amount of stress.

That’s the thing about being as close to someone as you are to Mingyu. To most people, he’s got this unfailing streak of energy and kindness. He’s the kind of person that lets himself be bullied by all his friends even though he could definitely take them. It’s all part of making sure everyone is enjoying themselves and most things just roll off his broad shoulders. There are hidden depths to him, too. Sometimes he gets a little worn out because he’ll keep things to himself instead of burdening someone else. He takes so much onto his own plate and you wish he wouldn’t. At least, not always. He’ll go until it feels a little unbearable and then finally speak up. He’ll force a smile even when he doesn’t feel like it just to make sure nobody else realizes anything is wrong. In a way, he folds in on himself a little. But, you’ve been friends for years so you know his tells. Know how to spot the signs. It takes you a little longer this time surrounded by family and some friends. This is one of those signs, though. Taking the time to do a face mask, even if it’s in the middle of the day, to just give him an excuse to be quiet.

You’re not usually the one to initiate physical contact with him. Not because you don’t want to, he just never really gives you the chance. He’s like a human koala most of the time. With his back to the door and his eyes closed to enjoy the feeling of the mask, he doesn’t even hear you approach. Your hands wind around his waist, hugging him tightly from the back and your head rests between his shoulder blades. For the briefest moment, he tenses and you worry that he’s using this as a break from you. Then, he realizes it’s just you and his entire body relaxes. He puts his hands over yours and sighs softly. After a moment, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough because he turns in your arms and pulls you tight against his chest, wrapping you so tightly in his own arms that you would complain in any other situation. Not now, though. Not when he’s putting himself through all of this just so you don’t have to have a stressful holiday experience.

When it’s like this, you don’t dream of pulling away from Mingyu. There’s so much that he does for you and it’s so rare that you can do anything for him in return. So, you’ll stay tightly pressed against him as long as he wants. You won’t be the one to break the hug first. If you can take even a little bit of whatever he’s feeling onto your own shoulders, you will. This trip has been so much better than you could have expected in most ways and you’re determined to be more conscious of his needs. Eventually, he does pull away and let you look up into his face. He looks much more at peace than you expect. Maybe your hugs do have healing powers like he always says. Mingyu turns to remove the face mask and wipe his face before turning back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly into the space between you.

“For what?” he asks.

“For the whole drama that is my family,” you start. “Mostly, for Mimi, though.”

“Ah,” he says and his face falls a little.

“Gyu, I would never have put you in this position if I had known she would be like this,” you say earnestly.

“I don’t think anyone could have guessed she’d pull all this,” he says with a humorless laugh.

“You should’ve told me that she was texting you and bugging you like that,” you say without any accusation. You just want to be able to share in his burden.

He only shrugs. “We were with your friends and you looked so happy. I didn’t want to bring it down. How did you even find out she was texting me?”

“She told me,” you say with an eye roll.

“Really?”

“Well, she cornered me and asked why I had you on such a tight leash…”

“Kinky,” he interrupts and it nearly makes you choke.

“And then, when I asked how she even got your number, she told me she’d gone into my phone and taken it,” you say to avoid thinking too deeply about Mingyu and any kinks he might have.

“Bold,” he observes.

“Do you like that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

The second the question comes out of your mouth, you wish you could take it back. What is going on with your brain today? First you’re losing your train of thought watching Mingyu lick something off his finger. Then, you’re wondering about his kinks. Now, you’re wondering if he likes someone that’s a little bit bold. It’s got to just be the atmosphere that you’re in. Or that you’re pretending to date him. It’s messing with your mind and you’re not responsible for the way you act.

The worst part is that Mingyu’s entire face changes. He gets that knowing look on his face when he meets your eyes. A little cocky. The look that says he knows just how attractive he can be. It’s not usually directed at you and you’re not really sure what to do now that it is.

“Sometimes,” he says. “Not necessarily from someone I’m not actually interested in, though.”

“Good to know.”

Mingyu arches an eyebrow and okay, that’s devastating. Maybe you’re still a little under the influence of the mimosas. There’s no other explanation for the way your knees go a little weak at such a simple movement. “Is it?”

“Huh?” you ask, shaking your head to clear it.

“You said it was good to know and I asked if it was,” he repeats, smirk only deepening.

“Oh, sure,” you say and he seems momentarily surprised. “You know, so I can tell Mimi.”

You’re actually not entirely sure what makes you say it. It’s not like you would ever want him to consider Mimi. It might actually drive you crazy if he went for her. He gets that look on his face that you’re all too familiar with. Affection mixed with exasperation. Nobody seems to get it more than you.

“Too bad for her that I’m very much not interested,” he says.

“Shame. I don’t know how I would get over the loss.”

“Luckily you don’t have to because you’re stuck with me.”

“Until you actually have a crush on someone again.”

Even though you say it, you want to take it back as soon as it comes out of your mouth. Images come rushing into your mind of Mingyu falling in love with someone that actually lasts. Someone that could take your best friend away from you. Which should be what you want, right? You should want him to be happy. And you do. You just can’t really stand the thought of a life where he’s happy without you being right there by his side. This trip makes you think about a lot more than you bargained for.

“I do have a crush,” he says softly.

“Oh, of course,” you say and look away from him. That’s fine. This is all fine.

His finger is under your chin the next second to pull your face back around to his. It’s the look of patience that you also see a lot. Especially when he’s trying to teach you something in the kitchen. Or explain something from work. Or really just talk about anything he’s passionate about.

“The crush is on you, dummy,” he says softly.

“What?” you ask, not sure you heard him correctly.

With a shake of his head, he steps back to lean against the bathroom. “Of all the times I pictured telling you this, I never considered telling you in the bathroom attached to your old bedroom at your parents’ house.”

“We don’t…” you start and he shakes his head again.

“No, this probably fits,” he says with a light laugh. The kind when he’s just a little caught off guard himself. “I thought I wanted to tell you after brunch with your friends and, I don’t know, I could be misreading the whole thing, but I think you’re ready to hear it now too. I like you. I’ve been more than happy just to be your friend because I didn’t want to say something before we were both ready. I’m happy to be here as your friend that’s only pretending to date you because I’d do anything to make life easier for you.”

“Mingyu,” you say, so low it’s barely above a whisper. Like you’re afraid to break the quiet in the limited space between you.

“You don’t have to say…” he starts, only to be interrupted by a loud knock at your bedroom door.

Your senses are entirely overwhelmed and you wonder what he sees as you look up at him, eyes wide in wonder. Before this, you would say that your brain could process too many things all at the same time. That it always had a million things going on. Now, you can’t seem to do any of that. Can’t focus on anything other than your beautiful best friend before you and the fact that apparently he has feelings for you. You see his mouth move, assume it’s to answer the knock, and have to shake yourself back to reality. Need to come out of this day dream so that you can react to whoever is at the door.

“Too bad, lovebirds, you have to come downstairs. Attendance for games and cookie decorating is mandatory on Christmas Eve,” your cousin calls back.

“Mimi, just…” you start to call out to her and Mingyu shakes his head.

“We’ll be right down!” he cuts across you. He waits, seeming like he’s listening for the sound of Mimi walking away from the door. How he can hear anything over the pounding of your heart seems unthinkable. Somehow, he must hear something because he turns back to you with soft eyes and speaks in an even softer voice. “It’s okay, we can talk tonight after dinner or when we come to bed. There’s no pressure for you to even say anything. Our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me.”

With that, he gives you a quick peck on the top of the head. Something that’s immediately gentler than anything you’ve experienced with him during the entire course of your friendship. The smile he gives you as he steps around you to lead the way down to interact with your family has you go weak in the knees. Has he ever smiled at you like that before? Or is it a new smile? Once upon a time, you would have said that you had every facial expression of his memorized from years spent in each other’s company. Years spent sharing private jokes, going on adventures, complaining about work and family and everything in between. But maybe, you think, there are still things that you can learn about Mingyu. Maybe there are still things that you can learn from him as well.

When you don’t immediately follow after him, Mingyu turns around to grab your hand and pull you along with him. There’s something about the way he threads his fingers through yours and squeezes that makes your heart pound again before settling down. His touch is gentle, like it always is, and filled with complete care. You don’t notice the way he glances back at you every few steps. Not with concern, but with curiosity. He would have bet he knew your every facial expression and can’t fully place the way you look now. Somehow, even though he can’t completely tell what you’re thinking, he knows that he made the right decision. Knows it was time to tell you what’s been on his mind. Knows that, no matter what, he’s still going to have his best friend on the other side of this trip.

It’s chaos once you and Mingyu get downstairs, like it always is at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve. Though, this definitely seems a little busier than years past. You’re not sure why that is either, but everyone seems to want to join in on the traditions that your parents cling to. In any case, it’s a good thing for you because it lets you just blend into the group of people without your parents paying entirely too much attention to you. Mingyu uses your hand intertwined with his to pull you into him, the way he has countless other times on this trip, and presses a kiss to your temple. Then, he’s off into the kitchen, throwing a joke at your mom about how he’s here now and she doesn’t need to worry. He looks over his shoulder and winks at you as your mother puts him to work mixing ingredients. You honestly don’t even know how you react in response. It must be okay, though, because he smiles back at you.

You love to decorate the cookies and will happily help make them in other situations, but there are already too many cooks in the kitchen. Instead, you help to set up some of the card tables that your parents keep for times like these. It gives people the chance to figure out what they might want to play and who they want to join them. It really is a nice tradition, no matter how you feel about your parents. And since your mother usually spends more time on baking and decorating the cookies, she doesn’t notice if things get a little too competitive between you and the cousins. Or if your father eggs the rest of you on while he watches. She has her favorite parts and lets everyone else do whatever it is they want to do. As long as everyone takes a break to help with decorating the cookies. Not that it’s ever a concern, that’s most people’s favorite part.

Once the tables are all set up, you settle into a board game with some of your cousins. Usually, you’re one of the more competitive ones. Board games come pretty easily to you and you pick up on the strategy quickly. If your cousins notice that you’re not nearly as invested this time, they let you have it. And they do notice it, pretty quickly, but let you have it. It’s easy to see you’re distracted and to see that you keep glancing into the kitchen at Mingyu. They just let you have it. It’s in their best interest, anyway. It’s nice to get the chance to win without you being fully committed to beating everyone around you.

This kind of setting really gives you a chance to think without shutting yourself away in your bedroom. That’s too obvious. You can’t just say that your best friend confessed feelings for you and now you need to figure out what your own feelings are. Not when he’s pretending to be your boyfriend already. Not when your whole family already thinks you’re lying about having just gotten together with him. And not when your mother would probably kill you if you missed out on traditions that may be older than you are.

All the spiralling in your brain is just cover, you realize, for the bigger picture. Mingyu likes you and he thinks this is the right time to have a conversation about it. He also knows that your friendship is the most important. You agree. He’s one of the most important people in your life, but is he more than that to you too? Is it possible that it’s more than friendship? That’s not something you ever considered. When you and Mingyu met in university it was through someone you were dating at the time. The relationship was, fortunately, very short lived. But the friendship with Mingyu, that was the stuff of stories. That instant connection that survived the breakup. The two of you always joke that your friendship was meant to be and that’s why it lasted when the relationship didn’t. Why others could come and go from your lives but you two are forever. Especially when either of you has dated someone that had an issue with the friendship. It’s insane to think that men and women can’t be friends. A completely archaic way of thinking.

That makes you think about your friendship with Seungkwan, though. Someone in your life who has also always been a constant. Someone who supports all your rights and your wrongs, even if he gives you a hard time too. And that’s when something else clicks. Your past partners haven’t objected to your friendship with Seungkwan nearly as often as your friendship with Mingyu. It’s not that he’s not attractive, because he definitely is. It can’t be that you’re not as close. Seungkwan has been with you through a lot. It could be that there's been more distance between you and him since you moved away, but you’re not sure that’s it either. He’s a constant in your life even from a distance. When you can’t see him, you regularly FaceTime him. So, no, he’s still present even if he’s not in the same city.

And then it hits you. You don’t watch Seungkwan lick something off his finger while he’s cooking. You don’t get jealous of your cousin hitting on him, regardless of what else is going on. You don’t seek out physical affection in the same way. Don’t find yourself looking over at Seungkwan for his reaction to everything going on around you. Don’t want to know his thoughts on something before you make each big decision. Seungkwan is your best friend and he means the world to you, but the thought of him constantly kissing you on the cheek or the temple or forehead or even the back of your hand doesn’t unleash butterflies in your stomach.

Holy shit. You’re in love with Mingyu. Definitely in way over your head with feelings that should have been obvious to you. It’s impossible to pinpoint when it might have happened or how. Maybe there isn’t a specific time. Maybe it’s something that happens slowly over time. You know that when you first became friends it was only that, a friendship. Someone that you could be yourself around and feel at home with in a very foreign environment. Somewhere along the way, it’s morphed into more. He really is the person you want to share all your news with, the person that you look to for support first. It’s so clear to you that your feelings are there now that he’s confessed and gotten you thinking about it. When you meet his eyes across the room, you wonder if he can see the realization on your face.

Now that you realize that you also have feelings for Mingyu, you’re not sure how you missed it before. If you consider the traits you’re looking for in a partner, he ticks off every box. And if you’re being completely honest, he’s been the reason for adding some traits to your list. So, not that you’ll admit this to any of your most recent exes, but maybe they had a point when they questioned your relationship with Mingyu. Not a big point. They still had shitty reasons for disliking Mingyu, but a small point nonetheless.

The rest of the evening seems to go by entirely too slowly, even if you do enjoy yourself. Much to the dismay of your cousins, you’re no longer distracted and you proceed to kick their asses at any game they suggest. You do go a little easier on them than normal, though, and avoid any of the trash talk. Thankfully Seungkwan isn’t there to point out that being in a good mood makes you soft. Even decorating the cookies is more fun than you can remember. You try not to think about whether that’s because Mingyu sits right next to you the whole time, trying to sabotage your cookie designs or make you laugh with his own. Spoiler alert: it absolutely is and you’re already down horrendous. It’s even easier to act like a cute couple in love now than it was before. And you also ignore the realization that it being so easy to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend should have also been an indicator. Nobody ever said you were the most observant when it came to your own feelings.

Finally, you get a free moment to go upstairs. It’s time to get changed for Christmas Eve dinner and that gives you both the chance to excuse yourselves. The only person who seems to be tracking the movement with some amount of interest is Mimi. You’re too caught up in reaching out for Mingyu’s hand to notice, though. His smile at the action is immediately familiar and new. Familiar because you know his face better than your own and new because you didn’t expect to see him looking at you like that.

“I didn’t expect your mom to have me working so hard in the kitchen helping with the cookie dough,” he says once you close the door.

“Oh, I did,” you say through a snort.

“How was the - “

“You were right.”

You both go to speak at the same time and Mingyu’s mouth closes the second he realizes what you said. Whatever he wants to ask dies on his tongue over three words from your mouth. They might just be the second best three words you could say to him right then.

“About?” he prompts.

“It was the right time to tell me,” you confirm for him. It’s clear that he’s biting his tongue to let you say whatever you need to. Even if he knows by the look on your face. “I like you too.”

“Thank fucking god,” he says with an exhale. “When Seungkwan told me that I should tell you because he caught you watching me, I thought he was being a shit and…”

“Wait, what?” you ask. Fucking Seungkwan. Of course.

“Oh, yeah, at brunch earlier he said that he noticed you watching me while I was cooking and that if I liked you like he thought I did, that I should probably tell you,” he says a little sheepishly.

“You know what? Forget Seungkwan. I need to see something,” you say and close the space between you.

Before Mingyu can ask anything, you’re on your tiptoes, hands cupping his face and lips pressed to his. He wraps his arms around your lower back to pull you tighter against his body without missing a beat. And that really is all you need to know. Everything is in that first real kiss. Any lingering hesitations slip away. You can feel his promises and the answers to the questions you know you’ll have to actually ask in that kiss. For now, it just feels like coming home. Like you found the person that can get through all the bullshit and remind you about what’s actually important in life.

“Wow,” you say when you pull away.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” you wonder.

“Just how long have you liked me?” he says with an all too knowing smirk.

“I only realized today so I’ve got some catch up to do,” you joke.

“We both do, I think,” he says.

Without having to say a word, both of you get ready for Christmas dinner since your mother insists that you get dressed up. Every few seconds one of you seems to catch the other looking. It feels exciting, but you’re also a little shy. There’s a lot to talk about and a lot to navigate. You know you can’t put it aside. It just doesn’t feel as time sensitive now. This is one of the most important people in your life and it’s going to work out. At least, if you can get through the whole drawn out affair that is dinner first.

Which you do. Through all your mother’s courses and all the formality that she insists on following, you have Mingyu by your side. You’re not even distracted by Mimi on the other side of the table. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you while you and Mingyu can’t take your eyes off each other. More than once, you entirely miss a question and Mingyu has to nudge you to prompt you. It’s not your fault, you reason. He’s just so insanely attractive and made all the more so because you know that he’s a genuinely wonderful person.

Every part of you wants to skip the after dinner drinks and go back upstairs with Mingyu, but he quietly insists that you should stay. Even laughs when you turn his signature pout back around on him. If he makes a good point that you have nothing but time, you still want to take advantage of some of that time right now. Instead, you sip on your rumchata and curl into Mingyu on the oversized armchair by the fire. Despite trying to leave a little bit of space, you’re basically sitting on his lap at his own insistence.

Once the first people start to call it a night, you look at Mingyu with nearly pleading eyes. That gets a light laugh out of him as he nods to agree that you can go upstairs to your bedroom. You say your goodnights to everyone in the room, wish people a Happy Christmas Eve, and lead the way back up to your room even though he doesn’t need the directions

It’s nice to have uninterrupted time to figure everything out with Mingyu now that your feelings are out in the open. And once you’re both changed and through your skincare routines, you get into bed just to talk. It’s remarkable how much can fall into place so easily. It’s obvious that he figured out his feelings first. You insist that yours are already just as strong. The two of you depend on each other in everything without realizing it. Turn to each other for support. Share in all the best news. Suffer through any heartbreak together. In the years of friendship, there’s something deeper than either of you ever expected.

Honestly, it’s not even something either of you just held onto or harbored for years. The feelings really came suddenly. Mingyu shares that he wasn’t just waiting around to tell you that he had feelings for you. He also shares, though you already know, that no part of him felt entitled to your returned feelings. Had Seungkwan not said something, he’s not even sure if or when he would have said something. The last thing he would ever want was to make you uncomfortable. As much as he cares about you and wants to explore the relationship, you’re also the best friend he’s ever had. You feel the same. It’s a little scary and exciting at the same time. You trust Mingyu with your heart in a way that you’ve never trusted anyone else.

It’s entirely too late into the night by the time you and Mingyu fall asleep. How the two of you have so much to say at this point in the friendship is something to be studied. But, eventually you drift off, completely intertwined with Mingyu. He’s been a cuddler this whole trip and you’re not sure how he’s gotten himself even more attached to you. Yet, he does. It’s like any space between you would be too much. It’s too much satisfaction to give him that he’s right. He can tell anyway.

When you wake up, it feels too early. A fact only confirmed when you check your phone. None of the little cousins or your cousins with kids are staying at your parents’ house. So, you know that it doesn’t have to be an early start to the morning. You consider if you can drift off back to sleep. In the night, you ended up with Mingyu spooning you. His arm is loosely draped over you and your back is pressed somewhat lightly into his chest. When you go to adjust to think about drifting back off, your ass brushes against his hips, you feel something press into you. That stops you for a moment. Obviously, you and Mingyu talked about sex the night before. About how you wanted to try to take it a little slower since this means so much to both of you. And obviously you know that it’s relatively common for a guy to wake up a little hard. Your brain knows all those things. Knows what you should do. You should just reposition and go back to sleep.

That’s not what you actually do though.

So carefully that it could be an accident, you wiggle against him, a little harder this time. You yawn like you’re actually just adjusting to get comfortable and fall back asleep. He might let you get away with it, too, if you didn’t do it more than once, pressing further back into him each time. You know he’s awake by the sharp intake of breath and then the way he moves his hand to grip your thigh. The way his fingertips dig into your skin there makes you grind back harder without pretending it’s anything else.

Mingyu puts his lips to your ear. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“No,” you whisper.

“I thought we said we were going to take it slow,” he says with incredible difficulty.

“I can move slower,” you answer immediately. It feels gratifying when he snaps his hips into your ass.

“You’re teasing me,” he whines.

“Not if I follow through,” you say. “I want you, Mingyu. I don’t want to wait.”

“Fuck,” he hisses as you continue to grind into him. “I want you to.”

“Then…” you start and immediately cut off as his hand winds back around to your front. He grabs your pussy through your shorts that suddenly feel too flimsy. Runs his long middle finger up your core and you immediately know you started something that he’s going to finish.

But his hand is gone entirely too quickly. Worse still, he pulls back. It’s only long enough for him to turn you towards him and then pull you on top of him. Your brain catches back up once you’re straddle over him and he pulls your face towards him. You kiss him like you haven’t yet. Full of desire and desperation. Nothing like the first few kisses you share. Those kisses were to make sure this was right. This kiss is to ruin him. Maybe to ruin yourself as well. His hands are on your hips, anchoring you to him, not that there’s anywhere else you could possibly be.

It’s never been like this with anyone. Just some heavy kissing and you’re already getting turned on. Already wondering what’s next. What it’s going to feel like. If Mingyu is the type of person that will take his time with you. It’s hard to imagine when he seems just as desperate as you are. At least, he tries to anchor you in a certain position so that you can’t grind too much. Maybe he does want to savor it. You really are down horrendous for this man because you think you could just kiss him like this forever and never quite get enough.

All too soon, Mingyu rolls the pair of you over again. Now he’s hovering over you and nobody has any business being that hot. And then he pulls back, somewhat straddling your legs without putting too much weight on you. In one movement, he pulls his shirt over his head and casts it aside. Okay, now you really think that nobody has any business being that hot. And sure, you’ve seen him shirtless before. This is just different. You don’t even realize as he’s reaching for your shirt until you feel his fingers brush the skin of your stomach. He’s looking for permission, but you’re a little impatient and pull the shirt off yourself. You’re not sure that anyone has ever looked at your body with so much love. Like he’s just as amazed as you are. He peppers your chest and your chest and your stomach with kisses. Showing you just how much he loves every bit of you. It’s the safest feeling in the world and you’re not really sure how you got this lucky.

Mingyu is so gentle when he pulls your shorts off. Trails kisses along your thighs as well and makes you shiver. Chuckles when he pulls his own off and you swallow at the sight of him. He’s a big guy and somehow you’re still not expecting his dick to be big like it is. Haven’t ever really thought about it in all the time you’ve been friends. You expect him to be all confident seeing your reaction. There’s something else there too, though. Like he’s a little nervous about this. You’re not really sure what to say to reassure him, so you just pull him back to you to kiss him again. He adjusts into you almost immediately, half laying on top of you while still making sure that he’s not crushing you.

This time kissing him is very different, though. He moves one hand between your legs. It’s gentle at first. He only runs his finger up your center a few times. Catches each moan with his kisses. Slowly works a finger inside you and pumps at a languid pace. It turns you into a whiny, squirming mess entirely too quickly. Empties any thoughts or worries out of your head. You know you can’t be too loud and you hate it. Nobody should be able to kiss this well while also hitting the perfect spot with each pass of his fingers. He adds a second finger and you’re sure that you’re done for. Sure that nothing else will ever feel as perfect as him again. You reach to stroke him and he pulls back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, unable to hide the concern in your voice.

“No, nothing,” he assures you quickly. “I just, um, well I really want to fuck you and I’m not sure I could handle it if…”

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, already ready to say it doesn’t matter if you have to.

“I might?” he says more like a question and gets off the bed to cross to his bag with too much speed. In any other situation you might laugh. Now, you just want to feel him. A moment later, after rifling through his bag, he comes back up with one.

He’s moving back to you, unwrapping the condom, and then he looks up at you. There’s a question in his eyes.

“Yes, Mingyu, I want this. And yes, I want it here,” you assure him.

Thankfully, that’s the only confirmation he needs. In the next second, he’s pumping himself a few times and rolling the rubber onto himself. You move to reposition, but he doesn’t let you. He gently presses you back and gets between your legs. Carefully, he lines himself up and presses in.

“Oh fuck,” you hiss out, trying to stay quiet.

“Too much?” he asks and stills.

“No, Gyu, just move, please,” you whine out, pulling him into you.

He does exactly what you ask and snaps his hips so he’s fully buried inside you. It’s a stretch in the best way. Like this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. You can’t help it, you moan out the first time he thrusts and he catches the second moan with another bruising kiss. Probably better to have bruised lips than to have your family hear the screams you let out as he fucks you. Probably better than having them hear his moans as well. They vibrate through his chest and it gives you a sense of pride. Mingyu is a taker in every sense of his life. You know that it must be killing him to keep quiet now.

The two of you fall into a perfect rhythm without even trying. There’s nothing awkward about it being your first time. Knowing each other as well as you do as friends seems to translate here. Or maybe Mingyu just pays much closer attention to you than you realize. You run your nails down his back and his thrusts stutter so you do it again. That seems to get to him. He picks up the paces of his thrusts. Pulls his dick almost all the way out of you before quickly snapping his hips to bury himself in your pussy again. Never in your life has sex as simple as this position felt so good. Never has anyone you’ve dated felt this perfect.

When Mingyu’s thrusts start to stutter, you reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. Seconds later, your pussy clenches around Mingyu and your vision whites out. You can feel Mingyu release and try to pick up the pace to work him through his own orgasm. He half collapses on you, breathing heavy. Both of you have to catch your breath from all the kisses to muffle the noises as well. He tries to roll over so that he’s not on top of you and you cling to him, not ready to lose contact just yet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.

“I know.”

“That was…”

“Better than I was expecting.”

You can feel his eyes on you even without looking and it makes you smile. Can imagine what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth.

“Oh, you didn’t think I’d be any good?”

You laugh at that as you turn to face him. “No, I thought you’d be good. I just didn’t expect our first time where we had to be quiet because we’re in my parents house to be that good.”

He considers your words for a second.

“I guess I can take that,” he concedes.

“Come on. We have to clean up and get downstairs,” you say and he sighs dramatically. But, then he gets up and helps you up with him.

Half an hour later, you’re downstairs at the kitchen table sipping on a peppermint mocha latte and picking out your favorite pastries from the spread your mother has out. Mingyu has his chair pulled close to you and his arm along the back of your chair. Your cousin is sitting on your other side, cheerily humming under her breath. In a strange move, she isn’t even trying to speak to Mingyu. Just as you’re trying to figure out what’s going on with her, she turns to you.

“Have a good morning?” she asks knowingly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you hiss back, casting your eyes around.

“No need,” she waves off and shoots a smirk at you. “I got exactly what I wanted.”

“I don’t…”

“Seungkwan and I have been talking a lot. Plotting, I guess you could say. Seems like it finally paid off,” she says and your jaw hangs open.

“Are you…did you just…” you stutter out.

“As long as it’s real now,” she says and doesn’t wait for confirmation. Doesn’t need it, when it’s written all over your face. “We can talk about it later but I am sorry.”

“You and fucking Seungkwan,” you grumble.

It is a weight off your chest, though. Mimi has always been your favorite. A safe space in all the insanity of your family. It’s good to know that she’s still that for you. The two of you can argue about her methods, or her alliance with Seungkwan, later. It’s hard to ignore that it did actually help. You’re in this place because some of your favorite people meddled to help you and Mingyu see sense. Maybe you can say all is well that ends well.

In between all the chaos of breakfast and making sure the presents are under the tree, you manage to tell Mingyu about what Mimi had really been up to. He seems relieved. Not even annoyed, just happy that things can settle into whatever the new normal looks like for you and him. You also find time to whisper all the things you want to do to him when there aren’t prying eyes around. It may be cruel, but you delight in the way the blush rises up his cheeks and the way he shifts in his seat. You’re going to have a lot of fun playing with him, you already know. He’s so easy to rile up. Now you have brand new material to use on him.

Your mother works to corral everyone into the living room where the Christmas tree is so that people can start opening presents. You always hold back and watch at first. Don’t even make an effort to find anything that might be for you. It’s more fun to see people’s reactions. Does your mother like what your father picked out? Are your cousins humoring their parents? Did someone manage to get something that’s genuinely a surprise? There’s never a dull moment. In fact, you’re so lost in thought watching that you don't notice wasn’t beside you until he plops back down and nudges you. Hands a small, beautifully wrapped box over to you.

“Go on, open it,” he urges you softly. It’s clear he’s trying not to draw too much attention.

Exchanging gifts with Mingyu isn’t new. It’s something you do every year. This is unexpected though. Usually you exchange gifts away from other people because they can be a little silly. Nothing about this feels silly, though. With a final questioning glance at him, you pull the ribbon off and carefully ripping the paper. It’s immediately clear that it’s a jewelry box. That makes your heart hammer. You can’t even look over at him. Surely this is something he had already. It’s not like there’s been any time to go out and get something in the midst of all your confessions.

There’s a necklace inside the box. Something that looks old, important. The kind of thing you can tell has been well worn and loved without looking cheap. There’s a pendant hanging from the chain with your favorite stone in a setting that you instantly love. It’s the most perfect gift that anyone has ever given you and it makes you a little emotional. You turn to Mingyu, tears welling in your eyes, and want to have the moment just for the two of you. Unfortunately, your mother and several other family members watch your reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” you say softly.

“Do you like it?” he asks, still unsure.

“I love it,” you say earnestly.

“It was my grandmother’s that she got from her grandmother before her. She told me to hold onto it and that I would just know when I should give it to someone,” he says and that does you in. Any last resolve disappears.

The only response you can think of is to just kiss him. A real kiss pressed to his lips full of all the words you can’t say about how much a present like this means to you. How sure you are that you two are making the right decision. It’s so meaningful.

“I love you,” he says quietly, trying to keep it just for the two of you. Which doesn’t happen. Not that it matters. Your parents have heard you saying you loved each other this whole trip. It means something different now, though.

“I love you, too,” you say back. “So much.”

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” your mother offers as Mingyu helps you to put it on.

“I thought it would look good on her,” he adds to your mother.

“Almost as good as a ring,” your mother says. It’s the least subtle comment in the entire world.

Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat. Just smiles and nods a little. “Well, maybe you’ll have to invite me back next year and see what the gift is.”

“You have a deal.”

For the first time, you’re not upset with your mother for bringing up marriage and the idea of settling down. You’re just basking in the affection coming from Mingyu and appreciating your new necklace. Soon, you’ll have to leave this little bubble. Trade the idyllic snow covered scenery where everything moves a little slower for your life back in the city. But, you’ll be taking a different relationship with Mingyu back. You think that maybe he’ll be the key to you finally figuring out how to balance it all. Maybe he’s been the answer all along.

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boopshoops · 2 days ago

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What your favorite TWST character says about you :)

As a note before I begin: I saw one of these that shamed malleus and randomly even chenya enjoyers- (claimed that they were pick mes or something? 😭) so i wanted to make one that was more positive out of spite <3 make it more about the writing and why people appreciate the characters. Take each of these with a grain of salt i spose- also a lot of them share similar themes <3

(Aka fans who have different views or even blatantly incorrect views of characters will always exist everywhere, but insulting the entirety of a group solely for enjoying a character, many for different reasons, is probably not a great idea!

I get that sometimes people suck and thats understandable, but quit generalizing ok? Ok.

From a malleus enjoyer who just thinks hes a silly little guy and im tired of feeling like i have to defend myself bc he's my blorbo 😵‍💫)

Final note: i love unapologetically taking frustration and turning it into something that can make people smile 💕 also i blindly wrote this from 11pm-midnight :))) dividers by @/cafekitsune!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle: you enjoy and/or relate to the idea of healing from the past. Working hard to improve oneself for the ones around you and yourself: creating a healthier environment where you can be happy

Trey: there is immense complexity in things that are seemingly mundane. Digging deeper and deeper to find something truly sweet and heart warming is your joy.

Cater: maybe you relate, or maybe you used to, or maybe parts of the connections made in the past/presence/future dont feel as deep as you truly want them to be. There is something beautiful about a desire for genuine human connection, but also peace in being alone. There is a safe space for you yet, just be patient. 💕

Deuce: you love drive and determination. An endless stubbornness that keeps one going against all odds. Against every person who tells someone they cant. You watch them get proven wrong, and its pure bliss.

Ace: you find the connection between people beyond words heartwarming: even the seemingly simple ones. The ability to have a connection with someone who can get up to some mischief, tease back and forth, yet be there when you need them to be one of the most valuable things.

Savanaclaw:

Leona: Adversity over a lack of belief in oneself is a very difficult thing to overcome- yet it is very possible with the right crowd, the right amount of time, healing, and effort. You think someone's worth lies more than just within their title/job/appearance, but within the fact that they are able to stand back up and keep moving onward despite the odds. The hope for that change, and the ability to get out of bed in the morning on its own is strength.

Ruggie: Despite being through so much trauma at such a young age, recovery happens anyway. Its not perfect, at times the lessons learned are even rough. The survival tactics that once helped are now hard to ditch when theyre not needed anymore, but the ability to smile and joke and keep pushing onwards is something you value in life.

Jack: Self discipline can be both extremely useful as well as harmful in different ways. You find the way people can constantly strive to better themselves at what they love and/or morally to be highly admirable.

Octavinelle:

Azul: People can be cruel. And sometimes that cruelty inspires cruelty. Sometimes its simply used as a way to move on and survive insecurities created from it. Its hard, its a fight, but those insecurities are part of what make people beautiful. They are nothing to be ashamed of, and even the many tactics and smart ways of learning to overcome cruelness can be beautiful too.

Jade: The mind is extremely powerful. Intelligence and knowledge are not the only important things, no. Using that intel to find entertainment in the surrounding world can be exhilarating. Finding and discovering new unknowns: learning their ins and outs until they're a part of you is something you can relate to.

Floyd: speaking of fun- you love what is essentially the written version of a roller coaster. Ups and downs, ins and outs. Every single twist and turn is exhilarating and new. Every different perspective provides new insight into a multitude of different things. You are along for the ride, and you are having a lovely time.

Scarabia:

Jamil: self discovery can be very difficult after purposefully suppressing parts of one's self for a long time. Yet, the healing happens anyway (once again aha <3). People discover new parts of themselves, slowly becoming more comfortable not only with their environment, but how they react to it. The discovery is freedom, and freedom is bliss to you. New traits about oneself bloom like a flower: if not in the soil, then stubbornly in the cracks of cement. You gently take that bloom from the concrete and pot it, placing it gingerly in a beam of sunlight.

Kalim: Happiness isnt only sunshine to the one smiling, but to everyone else around them. It is delightfully infectious. However, happiness isnt a constant. You think emotions all emotions should be experienced rather than suppressed, because holding back sadness for the sake of others is a disservice to one's self. Discovering your own emotions, any range of them, is what makes people uniquely human. If anyone is holding those emotions back- hell, any part of them back, they need to be let out of the cage.

Pomefiore:

Vil: "Beauty is on the inside" is a saying thats been around for a long time, but beauty comes in so many forms. It can come from the stubborn desire to improve one's self: to be kinder, to help those around you, to be good. However it is impossible to be perfect. At times, for some, this can be crushing. People are hurt unintentionally, natural frustration can brew, the wrong actions can be taken: and thats okay. You believe whats important is to pick yourself up and keep going. To err is to be human, and that is beautiful too.

Rook: Error is beautiful. Symmetry is beautiful. Asymmetry is beautiful. A crack in the side walk is beautiful. Small things are beautiful, big things are beautiful. The nurturing of something through endless care is beautiful. The undeniable traits and hobbies of every individual that make them unique are beautiful. You find the endless optimism in finding beauty to be, in itself, beautiful.

Epel: Sometimes people will view others in ways that they wish not to be perceived as. This isnt in our control, as much as we sometimes want it to be. All you can do i be unapologetically yourself. To be you to the utmost degree. To prove those who thought otherwise to be foolish. You find this strength to find value in yourself despite others opinions admirable.

Ignihyde:

Idia: you have depression /j

Ok for real-

Life can be such a cunt. It can beat a person down, down, down and leave them vulnerable enough to fear it. To fear that beating, whenever it may next come. The anxiety of never knowing what or who will come next, or what one could lose. At times it feels more comforting to find a routine in solitude. But you know that the small things that give joy will wiggle their way in with time. The broken will meet people who love and care and find comfort in the companionship of healing, even from the little things: like a new story to read or game to play.

Ortho: You value unconditional support. Support through everything: the good, the bad, the just kind of okay. Knowing that someone can have ones back for every little thing- to be there solely because they care and wish the best for others- is something you look up to and maybe even wish to be for another.

Diasomnia:

Malleus: god damn people can be so hard to read and understand. They are so complicated: they are books you have to pay attention to from start to finish. But once you reach the end, you have a deep seated appreciation for them, and for the ones who stuck around to read your book too. Even if it was just for a fleeting moment: it is a happy moment. As painful as temporary things can be, it is also what you think can make the relationships we love and have loved so valuable.

Lilia: there can be suffering everywhere. There is war. There is famine. But there are also endless new sights to see. New discoveries to be made to help those still going through famine and war. New ways to love and understand people you never thought you'd understand. The development and positive parts of humanity, even though at times it can look bleak, are ever present to you. You love the discovery: of places and of people.

Silver: you believe that there is solace in being your own individual, regardless of who you are bound by blood to. Being shaped my experiences, friends, hardships, and new places are what make a person who they are. You value finding roots in and making your own home.

Sebek: Dedication can be a hard thing to come by, but when it does it can grab someone by the reigns. Using every waking moment to cherish that thing, learn more about it, become better at something, and strive to better ones self can be very admirable to you. But, on the other hand, it also calls for the occasional rest.

OTHER (just for ones I know well enough, sorry!)

Neige: You love kindness despite hardship. One can go through horrible things and still choose to be kind. The world could begin to end, and one could still choose to be kind, because it means everything.

Chenya: Curiosity fuels exploration. It fuels art. It fuels everything. It fuels excitement. It fuels friendships. It fuels medicine. It fuels life. Curiosity is endlessly fun, and you think that is very whimsical

Meleanor: Sacrifice for others can be tragic. Knowing what another person has given up for someone else, maybe even everything, is gut wrenching but undeniably a selfless love to you.

Crewel: There can be kindness in strictness. In teachings, there can be a parental guide. There can be someone who cares for you and undeniably wants you to succeed. They know that you can, so they push you towards it. You want this support.

Trein: Love surpasses time. When the ones we love are gone, the memories of them are still held close, with the love once given to them, we can show to others through advice and guidance that comes with time. You find comfort in that.

Crowley: People are flawed. We all know this, yet despite a persons flaws... however many there may be, there is still something hopeful and human about it. About having those flaws and persisting regardless. You may even like those flaws, and the unashamed desire to press on even with them on display.

Fellow/Ernesto: Live for yourself. This is what you desire. People are often caught up in material or monetary things. After all, we live in a world that required it to survive and even be respected. To throw away those views and simply live as you see fit: regardless as to whether you earn those things or not, is something you admire.

Rollo: Sometimes the attachment we have to those we lost can be painful. Regardless, that pain is proof that there was care and love. The things done for others, whether alive or dead, are done selflessly. Grief can fuel hatred, but it can also be caused by love. To unlearn hatred and learn to love again after the fear of loss is a natural human experience. It is a process you understand and admire those who take the time and strength needed to properly love again.

Thank you for reading <3

Tags <3

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @justm3di0cr3 @cecilebutcher @kitwasnothere

@techno-danger @thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @the-trinket-witch @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @qsoap @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto @kathxrat-01

@sillyslipperybananapeel @jadelover69 @tixdixl @twstinginthewind

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n1ghtfurys · 3 days ago

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Okay so did I drop off the face of the planet? Yes, yes I did but here's some Simon fluff because I don't know what I'm doing.

Simon isn't the most touchy boyfriend. He'll drape an arm around you when you're both sprawled out on the sofa or let you wrap yourself around him in bed even though he runs way too hot for it. So it's not that he's not affectionate, he's just not really the type to seek you out for attention.

Not only that but he's a man of very, very few words. Other than the occasional compliment on an outfit or sweet message when he's on a long deployment he's not particularly vocal about his feelings either. That is, until he's tired.

It's a gem that you found when he was back from deployment pretty early on in your relationship. He gets all loose, lipped and affectionate when he's really tired. It's like he loses the ability to hold his tongue and all of those sweet gushy things he thinks about you come flowing out.

When he gets back this time he looks like he's been dragged through multiple hedges so after a shower that you know could cook pasta, he almost immediately falls into a drowsy, almost, sleep when he finally gets to collapse into bed. You go to lie down with him, partly because you missed him but mostly because, in his half-dead haze, he asked you to, a rare but welcome occurrence.

You already find it adorable that he’s asking for your comfort, this big military guy who'd just been out doing god knows what to god knows who, wants to lie in bed and be held, wants you to play with his hair, wants to feel how you trail your fingertips up and down his arms, his back, along his neck, wants to hear you whisper sweet things into his ear, in that tone he loves so much.

He’s quiet mostly, you genuinely think he's fallen asleep but every so often he hums, or groans and shuffles himself closer or leans into your touch whenever it finds his cheek.

You let him move until his head sits comfortably on your chest, his hands balled into the t-shirt he gave you before his deployment and your hands running through his messy blonde hair.

He mumbles something that you don't quite catch, looking up at you through half open eyes. You love the way he looks at you like not even oxygen matters to him now that he has you. He mutters things about how pretty you are, compares you to the stars and the moon and the sky at dawn, names all of the things he loves about you. He repeats it over and over sometimes thinking of something new to tell you, some other little comment locked away behind his cold exterior. You know he won't remember any of it when he wakes up, but you also know he means every word.

#cod men #cod fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost fluff #simon ghost fluff #simon ghost riley fluff #fluff #established relationship

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itsrlymine · 2 days ago

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i apologize for the really long ask but i really wanted to share my thoughts and i would make my own loa blog but i dont have it in me to deal with anons so i fear i will dump them all on you 😔 first off i want to say THANKKKK YOUUUUUU you literally changed my manifestation journey i used to be really into manifestation back in 2021/2022 and i was trying to manifest my dream face but it never happened no matter how much i affirmed or listened to subs or anything so i was just like fuck it this manifesting stuff isnt real imma just move on with my life and thats how i went about my life until you popped up on my dashboard a month ago and usually i would click not interested on any loa content but i was like you know what lemme give this stuff a chance again bc i did try the non manifesting route and it didnt work out bc when i tell you my life went DOWNHILL i used to protect myself from negative experiences by having the belief that i was simply the exception to terrible stuff but the moment i left the loa behind and was like no thats unrealistic anything can happen well guess what!! so many bad stuff happened in my life the last 2 years its genuinely crazy. so i was like lemme try this again and i went through your blog and really tried to materialize everything you were saying and read it with the attitude that what you are saying IS real instead of the doubting attitude i had towards loa advice/info back in 2022 and things really shifted for me.

so the first thing i learned is that MANIFESTATION IS REAL and more importantly NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE what i went through these past two years was proof to me that manifestation is real because once i adopted that negative mindset and dropped any positive beliefs i had my life became a nightmare and all those terrible thoughts manifested right before my eyes. for example i used to believe that i always looked pretty no matter what, this was just something part of my belief system but when i abandoned the law and everything i told myself no thats crazy i cant mAniFeSt looking pretty its unrealistic if im not pretty then im just not and bro when i tell you i was at my lowest appearance wise I WAS AT MY LOWESSTT my classmates at school would come up to me and tell me i looked so different and so dull even my mom would say the same stuff to me and tell me i changed i also noticed a difference when i looked in the mirror. the reason why i felt like manifestation wasnt real was because it just seemed really crazy to me, i felt like things materializing out of nowhere and appearances changing drastically was just like something fantastical and just not possible here in the real world. well i am here to tell you that is NAWT THE CASE! the world is not logical and im gonna tell you why. most of us here have grew up religious, and whats more illogical than religion? there are so many stories in the bible where illogical stuff happen like youre telling me some guy can turn water into wine? doesnt that sound like something out of a fantasy movie? but it happened, right? you believe in the bible so you believe in all the stuff that happened in it even the magical stuff. and another thing with growing up religious is that we always hear stories about miracles where for example a neighbor who was really sick suddenly woke up completely healthy. and we also were taught that we can ask god for anything and that god can make anything happen. i remember when my dad would teach me about religion he would say that god can make the grass is purple if he wanted to. it isnt just in religion but also in another spiritual communities and stuff they also have their own stories where things that dont really make sense logically happen. this goes to show that the world and humanity were never logical and that illogical things can happen, they've been happening since the dawn of time. people just came up with their own explanations. so get that thought that you cant change your entire face because its too crazy out of your head because it isn't. anything is possible. we literally live on a rock and we somehow move and speak and talk and somehow atoms exist so pls get with the program aint nothing logical in this life and the sooner you come to terms with that the better. nothing is too crazy because existence itself is crazy.

the second thing i learned was that MANIFESTATION IS NOT A PROCESS. i used to hear this all the time back in 2022 and it never made sense to me i was always like what tf are yall talking about???? my understanding was that manifestation is the act of trying to get something, but i was so so wrong. everything changed for me when i started approaching manifestation with the attitude that i was reminding myself of what i have, not trying to get what i want. basically stop thinking of manifestation as manifestation if ykwim. to really understand this im gonna have to talk about the whole "decide that you have your desire > affirm that you have it > keep presisting" thing and break it down.

so what do people mean when they tell you to decide that you have your desire? does it mean saying out loud "i have __" and then a few seconds going "alright wheres my ___?" no. it means you in your mind decide that its ALREADY YOURS and that you ALREADY GOT IT. i dont know how to word this any differently because its so simple its literally in the words. im gonna try an example. im assuming that youre reading this with your eyes so you have eyes. are you trying to 'manifest' having eyes? when you say "i have eyes" are you using an affirmation to get eyes? is having eyes a desire youre trying to 'manifest'? no because you literally already have eyes bro how else are you reading this with your bootyhole??? so when you say "i have eyes" you arent manifesting via affirming, youre just saying it to remind yourself because well you have eyes. you arent trying to manifest eyes because you already have them. thats what it means to decide that your desire is yours. it means to stop treating what is yours as a desire because its literally yours. stop seeing it as something youre trying to manifest because you already have it, wtf do you need to manifest for? do you get it? don't think of doing this as you tricking your mind into thinking you have your desires because AGAINN you arent tricking anything you literally already have it. when you say "i have eyes" and you have eyes are you trying to trick gour brain? no. that sounds silly. im sorry that this is so repetitive but its literally that simple idk what everyone else is doing complicating the most simple thing ever.

and now, what do people mean by affirm that you have it? does that mean using affirmations to manifest your 'desire'? (i put desire in quotations bc you already have it since you decided you do) no. it simply means reminding yourself that you do. ill go back to the eyes example. if you were to say "i have eyes" right now would you understand that as some woo woo manifestation affirmation technique? no because you already have eyes. what youre doing is simply stating a fact and reminding yourself of it for funsies. you arent trying to manifest anything because you already have it. affirming doesn't mean tricking your brain or your subconscious that you have your desire or whatever, its just you reminding yourself.

and finally, what does it mean to persist? does that mean fighting for your life trying to convince yourself that you have your desire? no. because you already have it. it simply means that everytime you ask yourself "oh why isnt this showing up in my 3d?" you tell yourself "bro what tf are you on about were not manifesting anything we already have it are you crazy?" that's all. going back to the eyes example, you know you have eyes, so if someone came up to you rn and was like "hey did your eyes come in yet?" you'd probably think they hit their head or something because your eyes are literally right there its how youre seeing their dumbass. that's the same attitude you have to have towards your 'desires'. stop thinking of your 'desires' as desires, stop thinking youre trying to manifest anything, stop thinking you have to wait for anything to show up in the 3d or that the 3d is lagging behind or whatever, stop seeing manifestation as manifestation, stop imagining yourself sending in success stories asks when you get your desires, basically just stop dawg. you already have it. "dont contradict yourself" (although again you arent contradicting anything bc you already have it im just running out of ways to simply something thats already so simple). thats what it means to manifest instantly.

anyways thats all i wanted to say. im so sorry for the horrendously long ask i would make it even longer by talking about my success now but i think you would beat my ass if i did. bye bye love u

!!!!! you ate this whole thing up. y'all better come read this.

#anon ask #itsrlymine #success story #loa success story #loa success #law of assumption #imagination is reality #lawofassumption #loa tumblr #manifesting #loassumption #shifting #reality shift

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jarofstyles · 2 days ago

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Benefits

Hi lovebugs! This can be read as a standalone, but this is a 3 parter. The first part will be put up here but the next two are Patreon exclusives if you’re interested. (Part two is up now) I hope you guys love it.

Check out our Patreon for part two and 220+ exclusive writings

WC- 6.6k

Warnings- Asshole-ish H, smut, slight degrading, oral, slight possessiverry, etc

She knew he was watching.

A subtle smirk played on her lips as she helped herself to a drink in the kitchen, nearly able to feel the man’s eyes on her as he traced her dress. One she wore just for him, but would never admit to. He wasn’t good about hiding how much he watched her, how much he had been curious about her, but he hadn’t talked much to her. Only stared.

She'd been warned that Harry was a man of few words. He didn't go out of his way to talk, he was the stereotype of tall, dark, handsome and dangerous-but it's exactly what she's been craving. Twisting the lid back onto the mixer, she finally raised the cup to her lips as she turned around to face him. He wasn't hiding the fact that he was watching her. His eyes didn't stray. He liked that she didn't waver in her staring back, too. Y/N could tell.

It had been a long time since a man had properly excited her. She wasn’t exactly the easiest to please, if she was being honest. Y/N got bored easily, she liked to play games, to test people to see if they could handle her- but something about Harry had her fully understanding that he could handle her, no problem. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes that told her he was intrigued by her but also wanted to eat her alive, but she quite liked it.

Her eyes flirted with his, as she slowly took a sip, her throat bobbing delicately. "I think you're enjoying the view." Her voice was sultry, a taunt. She was baiting him, daring him to respond, to engage. The game of cat and mouse had been fun, but she wanted to be caught. "You're not very good at hiding it."

“M’not trying to hide it.” His raspy voice made her internally peek up. She’d only heard it a handful of times but each one had nearly had her purring. The man had the voice of her wet dreams, and she sort of hated how he was checking off boxes she had purposely put too high.

A small smirk played on her lips as she set the cup down, her hands moving to rest on the counter. She leaned forward, her arms stretching out in front of her, very aware she was very generously handing over a view of her chest for him to glaze over. "Is that so?" She asked, matching his tone. "You're just going to stand there and stare at me then?" The challenge was laid out softly, despite the tension in the room.

“Mm. I was enjoying the view.” His body was leaned against the cabinets of the kitchen, no shame at all in admitting the fact. “Think y’like when I look.”

Her eyes traveled up his face and met his eyes, a slow blink the only reaction to his words. She liked it, damn it. She liked being the focus of his attention, even if he wasn't saying anything particularly sweet or romantic. There was something about his blunt honesty that drew her in. "And what if I told you I don't like it?" She asked, her voice a gentle purr. "What would you do then?"

“I’d tell you t’stop looking like that and maybe we could come to an agreement.” His eyes kept contact with no issue, challenging her back. “I know you’ve been looking back at me when y’think I’m not going to notice.”

God, he was hot. It was infuriating, really. Men weren’t supposed to effect her like this. She’d always had the upper hand, but this one had her wavering as she reached up to twist a strand of her hair around her finger. "And what kind of agreement would that be?" She asked with a soft tilt to her voice. She loved the way he spoke, the way his accent rolled off his tongue. It was so…different to the general population of men she was used to. Some could accuse her of being excited over having a new flavor at her fingertips, but Y/N would argue that anyone who got a few moments alone with him would feel that level of excitement prickle their nerves. "One where I stop looking at you and you start talking to me?" The girl suggested, the small smirk playing on her lips growing.

“Perhaps.” Crossing his arms, he stood up off the counter and slowly sauntered over to her. “Was tryin’ to figure you out. Don’t get new additions in the group often, and you’re different than the people we’re usually around.” His tall form had her lifting her head a bit to keep his eyes as he stopped in front of her.

She’d been right. He was taller than she’d thought, and broader. The man had kept a physical distance before, but now she was feeling the effects of him dropping that barrier. He was just so…large. And it made her feel small, which was a feeling she rarely experienced. "And what have you figured out?" She asked softly, tilting her head to the side as her eyes fluttered to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again.

“I’ve figured out a couple of things.” Taking another step forward he gave her the chance to move if she wanted- but she didn’t. Backing against the counter, she didn’t shy away from him. “Mostly that you’re a little bit bratty, but you aren’t fake. You’ve been mostly nice t’everyone.” It had been a relief. Harry wouldn’t have been shy about calling her out on ulterior motives, but he only knew of one- and it had come after she’d already met everyone. “And you want me t’fuck you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart in her throat as he took another step forward. Again, she could have moved, but she didn't. Instead, she stayed put, her back against the counter as she met his gaze. His words were blunt, and she liked that about him. Most people would sugarcoat things, but not him. "And what if I do?" She asked, her voice faltering slightly for the first time in a long time. It was so different, but...She liked it. He had managed to get her to feel something different. Naturally making her feel a little more submissive when she had been so used to taking in the opposite role.

“I’d fuck you.” Harry rose a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to do it since I met you. Had to figure out if you were someone who was going to stick around.” The tension was thick between them. “I don’t usually fuck people just once. Don't like to think with my dick. But I think you’d want it more than once.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the heat pooling between her legs at his words. She’d known he wanted her by the way he had looked at her body, but hearing him say it out loud had her insides quivering. He was so…crude and it was so hot. "I’d want it more than once." She admitted breathlessly. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact. "And how many times do you think it would be?"

“I’m not in the business of letting you nut off and fuck off. If m’fucking you, you’ll be in my bed for hours. I don’t go easy.” It was the truth she needed to hear. Harry wasn’t one to half ass sex, and considering he’d been letting the want fester for a bit now, he had plenty of things he wanted to do for her. “Is that something you can handle?”

Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse as she responded, "Hours? That sounds...nice." She wanted to tell him that she could handle anything he threw at her, but she knew he'd only call her bluff. She'd never had a man talk to her like this before when she had confidence he could actually back up the claims, and it was exciting. Y/N wanted to know what else he'd say, what else he'd do. "And if I can't? What happens then?"

“Then I’ll walk away and let you continue your night. M’not going to do any of that if it isn’t what you can take, or isn’t what you want.” He made no effort to move, though, because he already knew what her answer is going to be. “You’re not gonna make it weird for everyone else in the group after we fuck, yeah? You’ll be able to behave yourself whenever we go out for the stupid dinners and drinks?”

She swallowed hard, his words making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. The way he was talking to her, the intensity in his eyes, it was all so new and thrilling. "I can handle anything you give me." She said softly, her voice filled with a confidence she didn't quite feel but wanted to project. "And I can behave myself. I'm not some teenager who's going to go running to the group about this."

“Just got t’be sure, Cherry.” Lifting a finger up towards her bottom lip, he smeared the lipstick with his thumb before pulling it back. “You don’t seem to be the kiss and tell type, but you never know.”

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, again the action so simple yet so hot. A little invasive- in a good way. She couldn't help but part her lips slightly, inviting him to touch her more. "I'm not. And besides, who would I tell?" She asked softly.

“That’s the right answer.” He sighed, taking a second to look over his shoulder and back to her face. “C’mon then. M’not fucking you here. Don’t want you to have to keep quiet. If I’m fucking you, I want to hear you.” Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he brought her out the back door. “S’a short walk.”

——-

He had a nice house. Smaller, with a porch and garage. Newly painted, lawn maintained and a little tree in the front. It wasn’t the bachelor pad she had expected, but she really didn’t know that much about him- did she? That was becoming more apparent the longer she spent near him.

“C’mon. Inside.” He unlocked the door and ushered her in, relieving them from the chill of the night. “Shouldn’t go out without a jacket next time.” The grumble seemed to make her laugh as he tossed his keys into the bowl, kicking his shoes haphazardly on the mat. She hadn’t expected to go on a stroll, so she had left the jacket in her car- but he didn’t really care about that. “Do you want a drink? Or do you just want to get into it?”

Her eyes scanned the cozy interior of his home, taking her even further by surprise. No, it wasn’t the bachelor pad at all. It was tidy and clean, with a few personal touches that gave her a glimpse into what was probably his actual personality. She noticed a guitar in the corner, a few books on a shelf, and a framed photo on the mantle that she couldn’t quite make out. “Huh?” The place had warmth she hadn’t expected to see, and the distraction was evident as she vaguely heard him ask something.

“Do you want me t’get you a drink, or do you want me to get to fucking you?”

Her attention snapped back to him, his words making her blush. Honestly? She really did love how blunt he could be, no sugarcoating or beating around the bush. It was so common to have people be coy about what they wanted, but then again Harry wasn’t anything close to most people she had met. "Oh, um, I think I'll go with the second option," Her words came out slightly shy, with a hesitant smile. She looked around the room again, taking in the details, before her gaze landed back on him. "But first, can I ask you something?"

“Yeah.” He grunted, taking a step into her space and putting his hands on her waist as he backed her further into the home. “Make it quick. Dick’s fucking aching.”

Her breath hitched as he moved closer, his hands on her waist making her feel small and delicate. She licked her lips, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she asked, "It’s just…Why me? You've barely said two words to me before tonight. And now...here we are." She trailed off, nibbling her lip. A nervous tell.

“Because I was trying t’see if you were someone that was going to stick around.” He said bluntly. “Lots of people pop in and back out. Didn’t know if you’d be one of the floaters. Got to watch you and see how you were before I talked to you. I wanted to see what you’d say.” While some could call it a little creepy, he’d more so put it as educating himself for the best result. “Wasn’t sure you’d be okay with me fucking you. Some people can’t handle me or how I talk. You’re a sweet little thing but I can tell you like some of the nasty shit. So we’d most likely get along.”

She blinked at him, processing his blunt words. A small, almost imperceptible shiver ran through her body at his assessment. He had been watching her, evaluating her...and apparently found her worthy of letting her see a whole different side of him. Y/N hadn’t pushed her luck in regard to asking about him but she figured there wasn’t much people would say anyways. It was obvious to her through her own observations that he had been quiet about a lot on purpose. Considering there were a few people in the group that did indeed find him incredibly attractive, it was more than exciting that he had chosen her- mirrored her own quiet interest. The thought sent a thrill down her spine.

"I...I appreciate your thoroughness," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, though trying to still appear confident in the way she had tried to portray. It wasn’t an act- she really was like that- but Harry had that little edge to him that made her want to soften up. "And you're right, I can handle you. I like a man who knows what he wants."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “And what do you want, specifically?” Her voice was low, almost breathy as she looked up at him. “With me?” His words had given her a lot to think about. The way he had evaluated her, the way he had found her worthy all while barely knowing her, and the way he had so bluntly admitted that he wanted her around for more than just a one-night stand. But she wanted to hear it all.

“I want to have an arrangement between the two of us. Told you, m’not someone who fucks people once. Not sure if m’looking for a relationship, but I want to like the person I’m fucking.” It was convinent for a release, having an understanding. “We’ve obviously got physical chemistry, find each other attractive and have the same friends. I think…” He leaned his face closer to hers. “We should be friends that fuck. Often.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze locked onto his. "Friends with benefits," she clarified softly. "No strings attached, but...exclusivity?" She wanted to know that she was the only one he was sleeping with, even if they weren't in a traditional relationship. "And we can still hang out with our mutual friends, just...without them knowing the details?" She bit her lip, considering the proposition.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, I don’t have the time to find other people to fuck. Work a lot, and I’ve got particular taste. I don’t want to worry about you fucking around either. Too much shit goes around. Eventually I’d like to ditch the condoms.” He shrugged, firmly gripping her waist to pick her up and set her on the hallway table. “It’ll be nice. You can just… Call me when you need to be fucked. I’ll call you. Scratch the itch. The rest don’t have to know a thing.”

She let out a soft sigh as he set her on the table, her arms wrapping around his neck as he towered over her. "Alright," she agreed, her heart racing at the thought of being exclusive with him. "Just you and me, no strings, no other people involved." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "And...no labels either, right? We're just friends who fuck, nothing more."

“Right. As long as you know that cunt’s mine to fuck for now, I’m happy.” He chuckled under his breath, nudging her thighs apart. “You wore this dress for me, didn’t you?” Fingers dragged up her inner thigh as he questioned her. “Cause you wanted my attention.”

She let her legs fall open, her breath hitching as he nudged her thighs apart. Her heart fluttered at his words, her insides clenching at the possessiveness in his voice. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had. When the confirmation that he had been coming had been dropped in the group text, she had taken getting ready a bit more seriously. Though she hadn’t expected this to be the outcome. Not in the slightest. "Yes, it was for you," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper as he touched her thigh. "I hoped you’d like it.” She squirmed, her legs spreading further. "Did you?

“Decided to take you home, didn’t I?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh as he watched her squirm. “Course I fuckin’ liked it. But you’ve been taunting me, and you weren’t subtle about it either. Figured I had to ask you now.” Ghosting his fingertips along the hem of her panties, he tangled his other hand in the ends of her hair to tug her head back. “Could tell you were starting to get a little desperate.”

She moaned softly as he pulled her head back, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before locking onto his again. "Well, you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me alive," she retorted, her voice breathy. "So...yeah, maybe I was getting a little desperate." She bit her lip, shifting her hips forward. "So, are you going to touch me now?"

His touch was gentle, almost torturously so, as he ran his fingertips over the damp fabric. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching her reactions intently. "You're so eager. Though m’not so sure I like the sass. I’ll do as I like, and you can tell me how good it feels." he murmured, his thumb pressing down on her through the thin material. "I bet you're dripping, aren't you?" His touch grew firmer, ever so slowly rubbing his thumb over her clit.

Her breath hitched, her hips bucking forward to meet his touch. She hadn’t been sure how he would be in this sort of scenario, but it was better than she imagined. It took a special sort of man to make her feel even the slightest bit submissive and she almost melting. "Y-yes," she stammered, her voice slightly shaky. It was embarrassing how wet she got for him before he’d even touched her. "I'm...I'm soaking for you." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her head fell back against the wall.

She could feel his touch like a brand through the thin fabric, her legs spreading wider to grant him better access. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest heaving with each breath. "Please," she whimpered, her hips moving in rhythm with his touch. "It's not enough..."

“Greedy.” He laughed through his nose. “I was curious how you’d be once I got my hands on you. You talk a big game, like t’be a tease… but in reality, you’re a desperate little slut, hm?” It was the most he’s ever spoken to her, but she couldn’t complain when his words went straight to her cunt.

"I can’t help it! You started it.” She gasped as he found a rhythm, her body tensing as his fingers tugged the panties to the side, slipping under the fabric. "Oh god…” She moaned, her body tensing as his calloused fingertips grazed her bare flesh. His words made her squirm, her body trembling as he slid a long, thick finger inside her.

“I didn’t start anything.” His voice was contained, even as he spoke with the smug little smirk on his face. “I told you, I needed t’figure you out. I hoped you’d be like this…” Looking down to where his hand was hidden between her legs, slowly pushing his finger in and out of her sopping wet cunt, he licked over his bottom lip. “Desperate. Melt at the slightest touch. You rejected everyone who came up to you at the bars when they wanted to take you home but you love t’flirt. You knew they wouldn’t be able to give you what you needed- so you waited for me to move in.”

"Mmmm…” She let out a moan as he slipped another finger inside her. "They can’t handle me. They want to try but I don’t want someone to try- I want them to do it.” she whimpered, rocking her hips into his hand. "You’re wrong, you did start it.” She gasped out, her back arching as he crooked his fingers to graze against that sweet spot inside her. "You walked in and you...you just stared at me like you owned me.”

“Because I did.” He leaned forward, letting their lips brush. “And now I do. This wet little cunt is mine to fuck for now. Got all slick before I had even laid my hands on you, fucking filthy.” He sneered. “Listen to that.” The sound of his fingers fucking into her were audible beneath her pants.

The squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of her quivering hole echoed through the room, a lewd melody that grew louder with each thrust. Her own wetness made his digits glisten, the sound of her coating his skin becoming embarrassingly audible. Every push into her tight hole was met with a wet slap of his palm over her clit, punctuated by her short breaths and gasps.

"It is your fault!" She hissed, her voice strained as she tried to keep quiet. "You kept staring at me like…like you wanted to devour me. It's not fair!" Her hips jerked forward as he increased the pace, her hand flying to his shoulders to steady herself. "You're gonna make me come like this." She hissed, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Then cum.” He taunted. “If it’s all my fault that your desperate pussy got all sloppy and wet, cum on my fingers and show me that then. Barely even touched you and you’re clenching all around my fingers.”

Her breath hitched, her face flushing with heat. "Oh god, shut up..." She hissed, her hips bucking against his hand as he curled his fingers inside her, getting the spot she couldn’t get on her own. "H-Harry… Fuck." She let out a high-pitched cry as she finally shattered, her inner muscles tightening around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Her body trembled as the intense pressure building inside her finally broke. Her inner walls clamped down around his fingers, squeezing them as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. The lewd sounds of his digits moving in and out of her drenched opening grew louder as she writhed against his hand, soaking his skin. Without thinking, she buried her face against his neck, muffling her whimpers as the peak of her climax washed over her.

"There y’go. Filthy girl, making a mess of my hand.” He coaxed, slowing his fingers down but rubbing right against the spongy spot in her cunt to make it last. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”

"Mmm, yes." She mumbled against his neck, her breath hitching as aftershocks wracked her body. "Please...please no more..." She whimpered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clung to him, boneless and spent. "It's too much." Her voice was soft, vulnerable.

“I think you can take more.” He said with a laugh, but pulled his fingers out anyway. “But since m’nice, I’ll give you a second. I’ll go easy on you since it’s the first time we’re fucking, but next time m’not stopping. You’ll keep cumming.” Harry had plenty of plans for her, she had no clue how much he’d been planning on this. “C’mon.” Scooping her up easily, he had her wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders as he carried her through the house.

"You’re insufferable.” She muttered, her head nuzzling against his neck as her body trembled in the aftermath of her release. She let out a soft squeak as he easily picked her up, her face flushed as she hid it. "Where are we going?” She asked, her voice soft. "I can walk, you know...” Y/N trailed off, her face flushing. "I’m not light, either.”

“Shut the fuck up with that. M’holding you, and m’not struggling.” He grunted, giving her ass a swat as he kicked open the door to his bedroom. “Bringing you to my room. Since your cunt needs a second, figured it’s nicer on your knees if you’re kneeling on my carpet t’suck me off.” The bluntness showed its head again as he felt her pull her face from his neck. “Been thinking about you getting that lipstick you keep wearin’ all over my cock.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing darker. "Oh...” She trailed off, licking her lips unconsciously as her gaze lowered to his crotch. "You mean like this?” She asked, her voice soft and sultry as she slid down his body to land on her feet. She slowly sank to her knees, her hands resting on his thighs. "Maybe I will, maybe I won’t..."

“I think you will. You’ve been gagging for it.” His hands grabbed the buckle of his belt as she looked up at him on her knees, the picture absolutely perfect. “You look awfully good there. Think you were made to be on your knees for me.” Depositing the leather onto the floor, he reached for her face and let his thumb smear her cherry red lipstick. “Go on. Undo my trousers, take my cock out. Know it’s what y’want. Don’t have to play coy with me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he smeared her lipstick, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips. "Mmm, you think so?” She cooed, her hands moving to his fly. She deftly undid the button and zipper, her slender fingers pushing the fabric down his hips. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bulge in his boxers, her voice low. "Maybe…” Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric. "Maybe I'll take your cock out and give it a little kiss first," she whispered, her hands gripping the elastic waistband, slowly pulling them down to help his cock out.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips once more. His cock was thick, the head flushed a ruddy red. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the heat radiating from him. "So big and hard for me." she purred, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Brushing her tongue around the sensitive tip, she smeared the precum that had leaked out. Looking up at him, she felt the thrill in her stomach as his eyes darkened with lust as he watched her. She opened her mouth, slowly lathing her tongue lick up and down his shaft from base to tip.

“There y’go.” He breathed, gathering her hair in a loose excuse for a ponytail. The red had transferred some to his cock and he loved the vision. He’d thought about it more times than he could count. “One day, think I should film this. Let you see how pretty you look on your knees.” He murmured, watching as her tongue ran back over the slit. “Get it wet.”

Humming in approval at his words, her tongue continuing to lap at his length, eyes fluttered closed as she felt his hand tighten in her hair. “I would like that.” Continuing to lick him, her tongue traced the ridges and veins of his cock before she looked up at him, wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Good.” He grunted as he felt the plushness of her lips take the head of him into her mouth, the slow pull of the suction. “Take a little more. Know you’ve been thinking about sucking this cock. Show me.”

As he spoke, she listened, taking more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, she was not as immune to him as she had tried to be. It seemed she had met her match, wanting to please him in ways she usually scoffed at with any other man. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, doing the work she needed to make him pleased. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her throat working around his thickness.

“Oh, fuck.” He laughed deeply, head tilting back as she showed him what he had asked for. “Thatta’ girl. Knew you had it in you. Shit.” He cursed under his breath as the heat of her mouth welcomed him, taking him much better than he had anticipated.

She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her pace, making sure she was taking him just right. The salty taste of his precum mixed with the musky scent of his arousal was intoxicating, making her head spin. She looked up at him, her lips stretched around his girth, and saw the raw desire in his eyes. It only fueled her own hunger, making her suck him even harder, desperate to please him.

Y/N moaned around his cock as he bottomed out in her throat, the vibrations traveling up his shaft. Her nose pressed against his pelvis as she swallowed around him, her throat constricting to make him hiss. She held herself there, savoring the feeling of being so completely filled by him before slowly pulling back to catch her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his spit-shined cock.

His face contorted with pleasure as she deep-throated him, a guttural groan escaping his lips. "God, you're so good at that." Harry praised, his hands fisting her hair tighter. His hips bucked forward, meeting her bobbing head, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. His breathing grew heavier, chests heaving as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be a lot of fun to fuck, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” With a messy pop, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, saliva dripping from his glistening tip. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, before leaning forward and spitting directly onto his cock. The mess hit him dripping over the side, making him hiss in surprise. Rubbing her saliva into his cock, she coated him in it as she smirked up. Getting him to react was a reward. He had barely said anything to anyone, and she was the one getting him to groan and hiss. Sue her for feeling a little special. “Think it’s wet enough?” She purred, coy as she looked at him through his lashes.

Before she could say another word, Harry grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, his mouth crashing against hers in a searing kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, making her moan in surprise. Was he good at everything? She could taste herself on him, the salty sweetness of her saliva mixing with the heat of his own mouth. Biting down on her lower lip, he pulled it gently between his teeth before letting go.

"You talk too much."

Her breath hitched as he spoke against her mouth, his voice low and commanding. She could only manage a whimper in response, her knees growing weak. He took advantage of her parted lips and weakened stance, slipping his hands around to squeeze her ass, pulling her flush against him so she could feel him against her tummy. "But you're right," he murmured, voice roughened by desire. "You've made quite a mess. Think you’re ready to take my cock?"

She nodded eagerly, her eyes locked onto his intense gaze. "Then turn around and bend over the bed," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She quickly complied, feeling a rush of cool air against her bare backside as she leaned forward, gripping the bed sheets tightly.

As she leaned her chest further into the bed, she felt the soft fabric of the comforter against her breasts, her hard nipples grazing against it. Every sensation felt a little overwhelming, but in a good way. It had been a long time coming considering how she had tried to navigate how to work up how to simply talk to Harry, and now he was her supposed friends with benefits. Patience was wearing thin. Swaying her ass enticingly, wanting to give him a good show- make him break. The room was filled with the sound of her shallow breathing, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. Behind her, she could hear the crinkle of plastic as he sheathed himself in a condom.

She could imagine how Harry must look right now, his dark eyes fixed on her ass as he prepared himself. The thought sent her reeling. If only she had eyes on the back of her head. Feeling him step close, his body heat radiating off of himself and into her bare skin, she lifted her hips slightly, trying to guide his cock to press against her soaked entrance.

Harry's strong hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements and controlling the pace. control- he was exercising the control that she clearly did not have. She felt the tip of his prick slowly push against her, inch by agonizing inch. Gasping, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, bordering on overwhelming, but she welcomed it nonetheless, pushing back against him to encourage him to continue. "Oh, fucks sake.” She sulked into the mattress.

,"It’s not fair. You can’t.. You’re not supposed t’have such a big dick when you act like one.” Her words came out in a string of stuttered moans as he seated himself fully inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, his body tensing as he held himself deep inside her. She felt her insides clench around him, her body instinctively trying to adjust to his size. “Oh, no? You don’t like it?”

She shook her head vehemently, biting her lip as she felt him throb inside her. "N-no, I love it. I fucking love it." She admitted breathlessly, her voice thick with need. "It's just not...fair that you get to have such a perfect cock and you waited so long to give it to me." She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, relishing the drag of his thick length against her walls.

Her insides felt like a silken vice around him, pulsating rhythmically as if trying to milk him despite him not being inside her long enough to do so. Her body was already betraying her as her walls quivered around him, her inner muscles fluttering as if trying to entice him to move, to draw him in deeper. Her body was warm, and she was tight, gripping him as if she hadn’t been with anyone in years.

A smug grin spread across his face as he let out a low, satisfied groan from deep within his chest. “Well, m’sorry, babe. Had t’make sure you’d be a good fit for my cock. I think I made the right call, though. Tight little thing, squeezing me the way I like.” He taunted, his voice laced with amusement. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he slowly began to move within her. "You like how I fill you up?" He punctuated his words with slow, measured thrusts, his voice growing hoarser as she clenched around him.

When she struggled to answer, he let out a laugh instead. He continued to speak for her, his voice a low, husky rumble as he slowly pumped into her. "Yeah, y’like being stuffed full of my cock. Like how it stretches you open and makes you feel so fucking small." He teased, his fingers digging into her hips as he picked up his pace slightly. "Barely able to talk back to me when I know you love to run that filthy mouth. Must be because you’re not used to being filled like this.”

She mewled, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He was right. Embarrassingly so. The wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of her filled the room, mixing with the erotic symphony of their moans and groans. He could feel her getting more slick, her arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls. "That's it, take it deep like that. You like to play tough, but you just want t’be a good girl for me. Isn’t that right?"

Her response was a strangled cry, her pussy fluttering around him as if to agree. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward to fill her again. "Good girl," he praised darkly. "You're doing so well. Such a good little thing, taking me so well. Now answer me.” The croon was soft, a direct opposite to his pace. “Gonna let me fuck you when I want, mm? Gonna call me when y’need it too?”

She keened, her voice echoing in the room. "Y-Yes please... I- I'll call you. I'll be good. I'll... I'll let you. I'll let you whenever you want!" Her words came out disjointed, broken up by his thrusts growing a bit harder, jostling her where she laid. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to keep herself grounded.

"That’s a good fuckin’ girl. You're gonna be so well-behaved for me, aren't you?" He cooed, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing brutal pace of his hips. One hand slid up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her arched as he took his pleasure from her. "You're mine t’play with now, understand? This pretty little cunt belongs to me." As he continued to pound into her, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. This was exactly what she needed - someone to take control, to make her feel desired and owned. And Harry was perfect for the job. They were going to be lovely friends, with many benefits. As she teetered on the edge of her climax, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

416 notes · View notes

fangdokja · 3 days ago

Note

Hello!

May I ask you about yandere!ex - boyfriend?

Did the yandere tendencies begin with the relationship or did they materialize after the breakup? And will there be a fic about him in the future?

Thankyou for answering in advance! 🫶

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

❤︎ Synopsis. A calculated partnership born out of convenience spirals into something far darker, as control slips and obsession takes root. What started as a deal now feels like a dangerous game—and neither of them is willing to lose.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 9,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, objectification, suggestive themes, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching

♡ A/N. Another planned work in my drafts that I haven’t released yet before, but here it is now. Technically an ask, but I prefer to answer this with a fic :)) Ok….. so I checked it and it's turning into 12k+ words. Went a bit ham, and still going. Might turn it into a Novella. Why do I write so much, ahh. So, I'll be dividing the parts (6 parts). Sorry. Probably, the slowest burn yandere among all my works at the moment.... I think. But, still for me, pretty fast burn romance, because we focus on yandere content. Lol. Also side note, if you like ENTP 7w8 yanderes (e.g. Gojo, Hawks, Dazai, Vanitas, Kuroo)? Well, this one's for you. Made a hardcore ENTP 7w8 yandere this time.

The first time you met him, it was as if the universe had aligned—not in some whimsical, romanticized way, but with the brutal precision of mathematics. A logical equation where X equaled Y. You needed a shield, someone to deflect the probing questions of your overbearing parents and the inevitable parade of suitors they had lined up. He needed a partner who wouldn’t demand too much—someone who understood ambition, who wouldn’t suffocate him with expectations of sweet nothings and fairytales.

It wasn’t love. It was convenience.

You found him sitting in the back of the lecture hall, legs spread wide and a pen dangling between his fingers like a cigarette. There was something insufferable about the way he grinned at you when your eyes met, as if he already knew why you’d approached him. You ignored the flicker of irritation his cocky demeanor ignited within you.

“I have a proposition,” you said, arms crossed and chin high, voice cutting through the low murmur of the room like a blade.

His gaze trailed over you, assessing but not predatory, as if you were a puzzle he was already halfway through solving. He tilted his head, the grin widening. “Do tell, golden girl.”

That nickname—it would become a staple, laced with amusement and, eventually, something sharper, more cutting. But for now, it was just a playful jab.

“I need a boyfriend.”

That caught his attention. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the smirk never wavering. “And what makes you think I’m boyfriend material?”

“I don’t,” you replied coolly. “But you’re convenient. Senior year, right? Close to graduating, no time for real commitment. And you seem…” You hesitated, letting your gaze sweep over him pointedly. “…unserious.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that drew a few curious glances your way. “Unserious. I’ll take that as a compliment. What’s in it for me?”

“Your parents are investors,” you said, your voice crisp, businesslike. “I’ve seen the sponsorships they’ve secured for student startups. You want their connections, don’t you? Stick with me for the rest of the semester, play the part, and I’ll make sure you have their ear.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to gauge whether you were serious. Then, to your surprise, he leaned back, his grin softening into something that felt almost genuine.

“You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of myself as efficient.”

He held out his hand. “Deal.”

From that moment on, the two of you fell into a rhythm. It wasn’t romantic—not in the way people might imagine when they looked at you, the golden child, and him, the sharp-tongued, perpetually smirking senior. You didn’t hold hands unless necessary. You didn’t go on dates unless it served a purpose. He played the charming, doting boyfriend at family dinners, his wit and charisma winning over even your most skeptical relatives.

And you? You became his silent shield at parties, the poised partner who kept the clingy girls at bay and gave his otherwise reckless image a veneer of respectability.

It worked. For a while.

You didn’t notice, at first, the way his gaze lingered too long when you weren’t looking. How he started rearranging his schedule to align with yours, his texts becoming more frequent, more personal. You chalked it up to him playing his role—nothing more, nothing less.

But beneath the surface of your carefully constructed arrangement, something was shifting. Slowly. Inexorably.

And neither of you realized it yet.

────────────

The partnership was a tightrope walk over a chasm, a precarious balance between your structured determination and his reckless improvisation. Where you sought order, he thrived in chaos; where you demanded precision, he operated on instinct. Your interactions were a battlefield of clashing ideologies, the tension sharp enough to draw blood.

You didn’t like him. Not really. And he knew it.

“You’re wound tighter than a noose, golden girl,” he’d say, leaning back in his chair during late-night meetings in the library, a toothpick shifting lazily between his teeth. “Relax. Not everything needs a ten-step plan.”

“And you’re far too comfortable winging it,” you’d retort without looking up from your notes, your pen scratching across the page in rhythmic defiance. “Some of us actually care about results.”

“Results?” He’d laugh, low and mocking, his voice a rasp in the dimly lit room. “You mean the kind your parents can frame and hang on a wall?”

That stung, though you never let it show. You simply straightened your spine, raised your chin, and met his gaze with a glare cold enough to freeze fire.

“Do you even have a plan for your life after graduation?” you shot back, your words slicing through his amusement. “Or are you planning to charm your way through that, too?”

The smirk faltered for just a moment, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable facade. Then it was back, sharper than before. “Why bother with a plan when I’ve got you to micromanage everything?”

It was always like this. Barbs exchanged like gunfire, neither of you willing to yield an inch. But when the conversation shifted to the projects you were working on together—the startup pitch for your entrepreneurship course, the meticulously researched presentations you delivered as a team—something strange happened.

The arguments faded, replaced by an almost eerie synchronization.

“What if we market it as a subscription model?” he’d suggest, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his fingers drumming against the table as his mind raced ahead.

You’d hesitate, biting the inside of your cheek, before nodding slowly. “It could work. If we tie it to a loyalty program—discounts for long-term users.”

“And gamify it,” he’d add, his eyes gleaming with an excitement you rarely saw in him. “Make it addictive. People love chasing badges and achievements. Psychological manipulation at its finest.”

“That’s… a disturbingly good idea,” you admitted, scribbling notes furiously.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teased, though his grin lacked its usual edge. “Even I can be useful.”

For those brief moments, it was as if the constant friction between you two ignited something productive, something almost electric. You hated to admit it, but working with him was exhilarating in a way that was entirely new to you.

And yet, outside of those moments of collaboration, the tension only grew.

You started noticing the little ways he got under your skin: the way he’d leave his half-empty coffee cups on your desk during meetings, forcing you to clean up after him. The way he’d interrupt your carefully rehearsed presentations with off-the-cuff jokes that somehow always landed better than your meticulously prepared slides.

“You’re infuriating,” you snapped one evening, your voice tight with exhaustion as you shoved a pile of his crumpled notes back into his hands. “Do you even take this seriously?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his tone unusually soft, his gaze steady. “I just don’t take you seriously. Not everything’s a life-or-death scenario, golden girl.”

You hated him. You hated the way he dismissed you, the way he seemed to find amusement in your frustration. But more than that, you hated the way he could turn around and say something so insightful, so perfectly aligned with your own thoughts, that it left you reeling.

It was a strange kind of intimacy, this constant push and pull, this battle of wills that neither of you could seem to win.

And though you didn’t know it yet, the cracks were already beginning to form in the walls you’d built around yourself.

────────────

The first time he saw you, he knew exactly what you were: a fortress. Polished stone walls, towering spires, and gates sealed shut with bolts of iron. Your every movement, every word, every carefully measured breath screamed control.

And he? He had never met a fortress he didn’t want to sack.

At first, it was curiosity. A passing interest in the girl who spoke with the precision of a scalpel, who held her chin high as if the weight of the world rested comfortably on her shoulders. He’d seen your type before—sharp, ambitious, ruthless—but there was something different about you.

It was the way your voice never trembled, even when your words cut like glass. The way your eyes locked onto his, cold and unyielding, like you were daring him to try something. Anything.

So, he did.

From the very beginning, he made it his mission to chip away at that armor, to find the cracks in your flawless facade.

“Golden girl,” he’d call you, the nickname dripping with mockery. He loved the way your jaw would tighten ever so slightly when he said it, how your fingers would twitch like you wanted to slap the grin off his face but couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it.

He started small—interrupting your meticulously organized schedules with his “spontaneous” detours, leaving his belongings in your space just to watch you bristle. But as the days turned into weeks, his methods grew more deliberate.

“Relax,” he’d say, leaning too close during one of your late-night study sessions, his voice a low murmur that was equal parts teasing and commanding. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep clenching your teeth like that.”

Your response was always the same—a cold, cutting remark delivered in that icy tone of yours, your expression a mask of indifference. But he could see through it. He could see the flicker of irritation in your eyes, the subtle way your shoulders stiffened.

He loved it.

Because while you thought you were unshakable, he knew better. He saw the storm that brewed beneath your surface, the fire you tried so desperately to hide. And nothing thrilled him more than coaxing it out of you, one spark at a time.

One evening, he pushed too far.

“I’m starting to think you like this,” he said, his voice low and mocking as he leaned against the edge of your desk, his presence an unwelcome shadow in the otherwise sterile room.

“Like what?” you asked without looking up, your tone laced with exhaustion and barely concealed annoyance.

“This,” he gestured vaguely, his grin widening. “The arguing, the tension. You get this little spark in your eye when you’re mad, you know. It’s cute.”

That did it. You slammed your pen down with a force that echoed in the silence, your eyes snapping to his with a glare that could have burned through steel.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed, your voice sharp enough to cut.

And yet, even as you said it, he caught the faintest tremor in your voice. Barely noticeable. But to him, it was everything.

He leaned closer, his grin softening into something almost intimate, almost dangerous. “Maybe. But you’d miss me if I was gone.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with an electricity that neither of you fully understood yet.

It was in those moments, in the way you tried so hard to keep him at arm’s length, that he realized he was beginning to crave you. Not just the fire in your eyes or the sharpness of your tongue, but you.

The fortress was starting to crack, and he intended to be there when it fell.

────────────

The cafeteria was alive with a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the clinking of trays. It was a battlefield of social interaction, chaotic and loud, yet somehow orchestrated, with alliances formed over shared meals and fleeting camaraderie. You didn’t belong here.

You kept your steps measured and precise, your gaze fixed forward, avoiding the swirling mass of humanity around you. People parted instinctively as you walked past, their conversations dimming for just a moment before resuming. Your presence was a ripple in the atmosphere—not disruptive, but enough to remind everyone that you were there.

And then you saw him.

He was in the center of it all, as he always was, the eye of the storm. His laughter carried over the din, rich and unrestrained, a sound that drew people in like moths to a flame. He sat perched on the edge of a table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, spinning some ridiculous story that had everyone around him enraptured.

They hung on his every word, their faces lit with genuine amusement, their eyes sparkling with admiration. He had that rare, inexplicable magnetism, the kind that made people want to be near him, to bask in his energy. He wasn’t just popular—he was adored.

And you?

You were the anomaly. The outlier. People respected you, even feared you, but they didn’t enjoy you. They didn’t invite you to sit at their tables, didn’t seek out your company for anything beyond necessity. You were an island—solitary, unyielding, and self-sufficient.

You didn’t envy him. Not exactly.

But as you stood there, watching him effortlessly weave connections, a quiet thought slipped into your mind like a shadow in the dark: What if you were different?

What if you could be like him, with his easy charm and boundless charisma? What if you could laugh like that, unburdened and free, instead of wearing the cold mask you’d perfected over the years?

The thought lingered for a moment too long, and then you shook it off, burying it deep where it couldn’t touch you. You didn’t have time for such things. You were efficient, logical, focused. Emotions had no place in your life—not since childhood, when you’d learned the hard way that they were a liability.

So you turned away, letting the sound of his laughter fade into the background as you made your way to the meeting room. The sterile, quiet space was more familiar to you than any cafeteria, more comfortable than any crowd.

He was already there when you arrived, sprawled in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand, his grin as sharp as ever.

“You’re late,” he teased, though there was no bite to his words.

“You’re early,” you replied, your tone neutral, as you set your things down on the table.

“Touché,” he said, watching you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Saw you pass through the cafeteria. Thought you might stop by to say hi.”

“I don’t make detours,” you said curtly, pulling out your laptop and powering it on.

“That much is clear,” he muttered, almost to himself, before taking a sip of his coffee.

The meeting began, the two of you falling into your usual rhythm of sharp exchanges and begrudging collaboration. But somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny sliver of something stirred—a flicker of awareness, of something you couldn’t quite name, whenever he spoke or laughed.

You told yourself it was nothing.

And for now, you believed it.

────────────

The garage was thick with the scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke, the hum of a barely-functional heater filling the space with a low, constant drone. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered occasionally, casting long, jittery shadows across the room. The boys were sprawled around the billiard table, cheap beers in hand, the air crackling with laughter and banter.

He leaned casually against the edge of the table, cue stick in hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he lined up his next shot. His movements were lazy, almost careless, but his sharp eyes betrayed the precision in every calculation.

“So,” one of them started, a wiry guy with a perpetual grin that made him look younger than he was. “This new girl of yours… she’s the one keeping you so busy these days?”

Another guy chimed in, his tone dripping with mock suspicion. “Yeah, man, you’ve been skipping out on poker nights. Thought you were allergic to commitment.”

He laughed, the sound low and throaty, as he took his shot. The crack of the cue ball hitting its target echoed through the room, the striped ball sinking neatly into the corner pocket. “Allergic? Please. I don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

The guys laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained, their teasing picking up momentum.

“So what’s her deal, huh?” The wiry one pressed, leaning against his own cue stick. “Rich? Hot? Bet she’s one of those uptight types you love to mess with.”

He straightened, twirling the cue stick between his fingers as he leaned back against the table, his smirk widening. “You could say that. She’s… interesting.”

“Interesting,” another guy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You? Interested in someone? Hell, what’s she got—blackmail material? A hit out on your family?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his tone light but edged with something sharper, something darker. “She’s just… different. Keeps me on my toes.”

The wiry one snorted. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he shot back, his grin sharp as a blade.

They laughed again, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression as he took another swig of his beer.

“Come on,” the wiry one said, jabbing his cue stick in his direction. “You’re not seriously into her, are you? Thought you didn’t do serious.”

“I don’t,” he replied smoothly, setting his bottle down with a loud clink. “It’s transactional. Mutual benefit, you know? She gets what she wants; I get what I want. Simple.”

“Sounds like a business deal,” someone muttered.

He shrugged, his smirk never faltering. “Aren’t all relationships?”

The guys laughed again, the conversation shifting to the next round of the game, but his mind lingered on the question.

He wasn’t serious about her. Couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.

And yet, every time he saw her—the fire in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she tried so hard to keep him at a distance—it felt like a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

She was a fortress, and he was a conqueror.

For now, he could laugh, joke, and deflect. But the truth was darker, heavier, lurking in the corners of his mind like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

He lined up his next shot, the sharp crack of the cue ball echoing through the garage.

This wasn’t serious.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

────────────

The room was suffocating, its air thick with the sterile scent of recycled oxygen and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above. Papers were scattered across the table like fallen leaves in the aftermath of a storm, their sharp edges curling under the weight of your restless hands. The tension in your shoulders was a tangible thing, coiled tight and ready to snap.

He watched you from across the table, leaning back in his chair with the kind of casual ease that set your teeth on edge. You were all sharp lines and rigid control, while he was a picture of unbothered confidence, spinning a pen between his fingers like the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on him too.

“You look like hell,” he said finally, his voice low and infuriatingly amused.

You didn’t bother looking up, your focus glued to the screen of your laptop, the keys clicking beneath your fingers with a ferocity that spoke of barely restrained frustration. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” he replied, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the table as his gaze bore into you. “Fine enough to bite my head off if I ask what’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped, your voice colder than the sterile glow of the room.

That gave him pause, his smirk faltering for the briefest of moments. He’d seen you angry before, irritated, exasperated—but this was different. There was something raw in your tone, something brittle and sharp, like glass on the verge of shattering.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Fine,” he echoed, dragging the word out like it was a joke only he understood. “You’re so fine you’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for ten minutes without typing a single word.”

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the distant hum of the building’s ventilation system.

“Drop it,” you said finally, your tone icy enough to frost the windows.

“Not a chance,” he shot back, leaning closer, his voice dropping into something quieter, more deliberate. “What’s going on with you, golden girl? Family drama? Business crap? Or is it just me getting under your skin again?”

His teasing grin was met with nothing but silence as you slammed your laptop shut with a force that echoed through the room. You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and turned to leave without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Hey,” he called after you, his voice following you like a shadow. “You can’t just walk away from me.”

But you did.

The door closed behind you with a quiet click, leaving him alone in the oppressive stillness of the room.

For a long moment, he sat there, staring at the spot where you’d been, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

He didn’t like this.

Not the way your walls seemed higher than ever, not the way your shoulders trembled just slightly when you thought no one was looking, and certainly not the way his chest tightened at the thought of you breaking under the pressure you refused to share with anyone—not even him.

With a frustrated sigh, he leaned back in his chair, the tension in his jaw a stark contrast to the easy grin he usually wore.

You could try to shut him out, build your walls higher, bury yourself in your icy fortress.

But he’d be damned if he let you freeze him out completely.

────────────

The argument started small—a quiet refusal on your part, your tone clipped and dismissive as always.

“I have work to do,” you’d said, fingers gripping the edge of the desk like it was an anchor in the rising tide of his persistence.

He didn’t care.

“No, you don’t,” he replied, his voice too light, too casual, the grin on his face sharpening as he loomed over you. “Not today. Today, you’re going out. With me.”

You scoffed, turning your chair away from him in a move that was more defensive than you’d ever admit. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. Go bother someone else.”

“Not happening,” he said, and before you could blink, he was behind you, his shadow engulfing yours. His hand was warm and firm on your shoulder, and when you tried to pull away, his grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of how much bigger, stronger, and more stubborn he was.

“Let go,” you hissed, twisting in your chair to glare up at him, your voice venomous and cold.

Instead of answering, he bent down, his grin infuriatingly smug as he hooked an arm around your waist in one fluid motion.

“Don’t you dare—”

Your words were cut off with a sharp gasp as he hoisted you up with ease, your stomach flipping as he slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing at all.

“Relax,” he said, his tone still maddeningly cheerful as he adjusted his hold on you. “You’re overdue for some fun, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Put me down!” you snapped, your fists pounding against his back, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“Not until you promise to stop being such a workaholic,” he shot back, his grin audible in his voice. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re mad.”

The sound of your struggles echoed through the hallway as he carried you out, your threats growing more creative with every step. But he didn’t falter, didn’t even seem fazed, his grip on you secure as if your thrashing was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

When he finally set you down, it was with the kind of exaggerated care that only added insult to injury. You found yourself standing in the middle of an amusement park, the air thick with the smell of cotton candy and fried food, the distant hum of roller coasters roaring above the sea of colorful lights.

“What is this?” you demanded, your voice tight with irritation as you glared up at him, your arms crossed defensively.

“A date,” he said simply, his grin softening into something almost genuine. “You’ve never been to an amusement park, right? Figured it was time to fix that.”

“I told you, I don’t have time for—”

He cut you off with a sigh, his hand ruffling his hair in exasperation. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Work, work, work. But you’re here now, so you might as well enjoy it. Who knows? You might actually have fun for once.”

You stared at him, your mind racing for a retort, but the sound of children laughing and the sight of the spinning lights around you left you momentarily disarmed.

“Fine,” you said at last, your voice begrudging and low. “But don’t think this means anything.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich as he held out a hand toward you. “Wouldn’t dream of it, golden girl.”

You didn’t take his hand, of course. But you didn’t walk away, either.

────────────

The amusement park was loud—a riot of color, noise, and movement that grated against your carefully constructed barriers. You were used to silence, to the sterile calm of office rooms and library corners. This place was chaos incarnate, a swirling mass of laughter, screams, and the clatter of machinery that felt like it could grind your composure to dust.

And he loved every second of it.

“Come on,” he said, his hand tightening around yours as he pulled you further into the fray. His grip was warm, insistent, and utterly unyielding, a stark contrast to the chill of your reluctance.

“This is unnecessary,” you muttered, your voice clipped as you tried to keep up with his long strides. “We’re wasting time.”

“You mean you’re wasting time,” he shot back, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that was equal parts teasing and determined. “Me? I’m having a blast.”

You tried to tug your hand free, but his grip only tightened, his strength a quiet reminder of the power imbalance you hated acknowledging.

“Let go,” you demanded, your tone sharp enough to cut glass.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, pulling you closer until your shoulder bumped against his. “Boyfriend privilege. Now stop sulking and try to look like you’re having fun.”

Before you could argue, he steered you toward a brightly lit stand selling oversized stuffed animals and cheap prizes. The attendant handed him a small air rifle with a grin, and he lined up his shot with an exaggerated flourish.

“You’re kidding,” you said flatly, watching as he aimed at the array of moving targets.

“Don’t underestimate me, golden girl,” he replied, his tone dripping with mock seriousness as he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and a tin can toppled off its perch. He turned to you with a triumphant grin. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as he handed the attendant a crumpled bill for another round. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is fun,” he corrected, his eyes narrowing in playful focus as he took another shot. Another can fell, and the attendant handed him a large, garish stuffed cat. He turned and thrust it toward you with a flourish.

“Here. For you.”

You stared at the stuffed cat, its glassy eyes staring back at you with an absurdly cheerful expression. “I don’t want it.”

“Too bad,” he said, pressing it into your arms. “Consider it a reminder to loosen up once in a while.”

You glared at him, but the faintest flicker of warmth crept into your chest, uninvited and unwelcome. He caught the twitch of your lips and grinned wider, his satisfaction practically radiating off him.

────────────

The roller coaster clattered upward, its chain mechanisms grinding with a metallic groan that reverberated through the skeleton of the ride. Each tick of the ascent was a promise, a prelude to chaos as the world below shrank into a mosaic of glittering lights and blurred figures. Beside you, he was practically vibrating with excitement, his grin a wolfish slash of white against the neon glow.

“You nervous yet?” he asked, his voice carrying easily over the mechanical din.

“No,” you replied flatly, your tone as unflinching as your posture. Your hands were clasped loosely in your lap, your expression an unmoving mask of calm.

He huffed, his grin faltering into something more incredulous. “Seriously? You’re not even a little scared?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

The drop came suddenly—a violent plunge that pulled the breath from everyone around you, their screams mingling with the wind's roar. The car tilted, twisted, hurtled through the loops and spirals with bone-rattling speed.

And you didn’t flinch.

When the ride screeched to a halt, his hair was wild, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline, and his grin wide enough to split his face. He turned to you, fully expecting to see some crack in your armor—a flicker of unease, a faint trace of thrill.

But you were already unclasping your seatbelt, your face a portrait of indifferent calm.

“Wow,” he said, dragging the word out as he climbed out of the car behind you. “Not even a scream? Not even a little ‘oh no, I’m gonna die!’?”

“It was fine,” you said, brushing invisible dust from your jacket as if the entire experience had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Fine,” he repeated, his tone a mixture of disbelief and mockery. “It’s a death machine on rails, and all you’ve got is ‘fine’?”

You shrugged, your gaze drifting to the next ride. “What’s next?”

He stared at you for a moment, a mix of frustration and amusement flashing in his eyes before his grin returned with a vengeance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

———

The next stop was a haunted house. The entrance was cloaked in fog, its jagged letters dripping with artificial blood as distorted moans and sinister whispers spilled from within.

“This,” he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the dark maw of the attraction, “is where you’re finally gonna break.”

You stepped inside without hesitation, the darkness swallowing you both. Animatronic ghouls lunged from the shadows, their plastic claws snapping inches from your face. A specter floated above you, its hollow eyes glowing red as it let out a guttural scream.

But you didn’t flinch.

By the time you emerged on the other side, his grin had soured into a frustrated scowl. “You’re kidding me,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing? Not even a ‘holy crap, that’s creepy’?”

“They tried too hard,” you replied evenly. “The suspense was predictable.”

“You’re a robot,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “An actual, emotionless robot.”

———

At the dart-throwing booth, he claimed he’d win you another stuffed animal to add to the growing collection he’d forced on you throughout the night. The attendant handed him a set of darts, and he aimed with exaggerated focus, his tongue poking out slightly in mock determination.

You stood beside him, arms crossed, your expression as neutral as ever.

“Bet I can hit all three bullseyes,” he said, tossing a dart into the air and catching it with a flourish. “And if I do, you have to smile. Deal?”

“I’m not making that deal,” you replied, your voice as dry as the desert air.

“Scared I’ll win?” he teased, launching the first dart. It missed the bullseye by a hair.

“Not particularly,” you said, watching as he threw the second dart, this one landing even farther from the center.

By the third throw, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up as the dart barely grazed the edge of the target. “Okay, maybe I’m a little rusty,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Or maybe you’re just bad at this,” you said, your tone cool but tinged with the faintest edge of amusement.

He turned to you, his grin returning full force. “There it is! A hint of a smirk! I knew you had emotions buried under all that ice.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the next attraction. He followed, his steps quick and eager, like a hunter who’d finally glimpsed their prey.

The night stretched on, filled with more teasing, more dragging you to rides you didn’t care for, and more attempts to crack your facade. By the end of it, he was exhausted but victorious, a spring in his step as he carried yet another oversized stuffed animal under his arm.

“You had fun,” he declared as you walked toward the exit.

“You’re delusional,” you replied, but there was no venom in your voice.

“Admit it,” he said, leaning closer, his grin practically glowing in the dark. “You loved it.”

You didn’t respond, but for the briefest moment, the corner of your lips twitched upward—a flicker of something you didn’t even recognize as a smile.

And that was enough for him.

────────────

The Ferris wheel loomed above like a spinning constellation, its skeletal frame outlined in garish neon light that flickered against the starless sky. You were already seated, arms crossed, gaze fixed forward as the car rocked gently in the breeze. He slid in beside you, the faint scent of cologne and adrenaline trailing in his wake, and the metal bar clamped down with an ominous click, locking the two of you in place.

“Relax,” he said, his voice a shade softer than usual, though still laced with that persistent edge of mischief. “This is the best part of the night. Views like this? They don’t come often.”

You didn’t respond. The city below unfolded in a sea of chaotic lights, each one a reminder of the noise you’d been forced into. A quiet hum of tension coiled in your chest, a restless ache that he seemed to notice, though you wished he wouldn’t.

The wheel began to ascend, the creak of its movement loud in the silence between you. His gaze flicked from the cityscape to you, studying the profile of your face as though trying to decipher a puzzle he didn’t know how to solve.

“You know,” he began, leaning back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh, “you’re really bad at this whole ‘fun’ thing.”

“I’m aware,” you said dryly, not bothering to look at him.

“You’re supposed to be amazed by the view,” he teased, gesturing toward the glittering expanse below. “You know, lean in a little, say something like, ‘Oh wow, it’s so beautiful.’”

“Do I seem like the type to do that?” you asked, finally turning to meet his gaze.

“No,” he admitted, his grin lopsided and warm in a way that caught you off guard. “But it’d be nice to see you try.”

The Ferris wheel stopped suddenly, your car swaying slightly as it perched at the very top. He looked out over the city, his grin fading into something quieter, something uncharacteristically reflective.

“Pretty high up, huh?” he said, more to himself than to you.

You followed his gaze, the city spread out like a map, its lights blurred and distant. The air up here felt thinner, cleaner, as though you’d left the chaos below and entered some liminal space where nothing could reach you.

And then he looked back at you.

———

For the first time in a long time, the constant noise in his head—the laughter, the jokes, the relentless chatter that kept the silence at bay—dimmed into something else. Something quieter. Something unsettling. He wasn’t used to this kind of stillness, this kind of weight pressing against the walls of his ribcage.

You didn’t notice, of course. Your gaze was fixed on the view, your profile illuminated by the cold, artificial light of the Ferris wheel’s cabin. To anyone else, you might’ve seemed serene, but he knew better. There was tension in the set of your jaw, in the way your fingers gripped the edge of the seat as though you needed to hold onto something to keep from slipping away entirely.

He hated that he noticed these things. Hated that, for once, his usual shield of irreverence and detachment wasn’t enough to keep this gnawing feeling at bay.

It wasn’t love—not the dizzying, saccharine thing he’d seen in movies or read about in books. It was something darker, sharper, as though you were a shard of glass lodged under his skin. He couldn’t stop himself from turning you over in his mind, dissecting every detail, every flaw, every crack in your otherwise impenetrable armor.

You were fascinating in a way that felt dangerous.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

His hand twitched on the seat between you, the urge to reach out almost unbearable. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. The thought of touching you—of closing that impossible distance—was terrifying in a way he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t fear of rejection; he could handle that. It was something else, something far more primal.

Because if he touched you, if he broke through that careful veneer of professionalism and indifference, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and uncharacteristically quiet.

You didn’t turn to look at him, your gaze still fixed on the view. “What what’s like?”

“To feel alive,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t respond.

He let out a soft, humorless laugh, leaning back against the seat. “Never mind. Stupid question.”

But it wasn’t. Not to him.

Because for the first time in years—maybe ever—he felt something. Something real.

And it unsettled him.

———

“I don’t get you,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You’re impossible to crack, and for some reason, I can’t stop trying.”

You raised an eyebrow, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe it is.”

The silence between you two was a taut string, stretched so thin it felt as if the smallest sound might snap it. Outside the cabin, the Ferris wheel creaked as it swayed gently, the city sprawled below like a graveyard of flickering lights. Inside, the air felt heavier, dense with something intangible and electric that neither of you dared to name.

He shifted closer, so subtly that you didn’t notice at first. The slight groan of the seat’s weight-bearing joints was drowned out by the pounding of his own heartbeat, a rhythm he suddenly couldn’t ignore. His arm rested casually against the back of the seat, but his entire body was taut, every muscle coiled as if anticipating some unspoken impact.

His gaze drifted to you, no longer playful or teasing but something else—something raw, a little desperate, and utterly unfamiliar to him. He could see the faint outline of your lashes against your cheek, the soft curve of your lips as your expression remained distant, detached.

And yet, to him, you were a storm barely contained, your quietness thrumming with an energy he could feel in his bones.

He didn’t notice the way his own breathing had shifted, deeper now, as if his body were bracing for something he couldn’t quite define. His eyes flicked downward—just a moment, a heartbeat—and caught on the soft shape of your mouth. It wasn’t intentional, but once he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it.

He swallowed hard, the sound audible in the tight confines of the cabin.

“I—” he started, his voice faltering like an engine choking on its own fuel. He barely recognized the sound coming out of his mouth, stripped of its usual bravado and swagger.

He should’ve stopped there. Should’ve cracked a joke or leaned back with that cocky grin that had always been his armor. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

His hand lifted almost on its own, shaking slightly as it reached toward your face. The tips of his fingers brushed against a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that felt alien to him. It was clumsy, hesitant—nothing like the smooth confidence he usually exuded.

The heat radiating from you was intoxicating, pulling him closer even as his mind screamed at him to stop. His breath hitched as he leaned in, so slowly it felt as though time itself had slowed to a crawl.

He wasn’t thinking anymore. The usual whirlwind of his mind—sharp, quick, always moving—had stilled completely.

All he could focus on was you.

The curve of your lips. The faint rise and fall of your chest. The way you still hadn’t looked at him, so lost in your own world that you hadn’t yet noticed the dangerous proximity between you.

His breath mingled with yours now, warm and unsteady, as his lips hovered just a hair’s breadth away from yours. His eyes half-closed, the edges of his vision blurring as every instinct in him screamed to close the gap.

And then—

Your eyes snapped to his, sharp and unyielding like a blade cutting through fog.

It hit you like a jolt of electricity, the realization of just how close he was, how dangerously near his lips hovered to yours.

But it hit him harder.

The sharpness in your gaze was like a bucket of ice water, dousing the fire he hadn’t even realized had been consuming him.

His eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he froze in place. He looked at you—not just at you, but into you—as though seeing something he hadn’t been prepared for.

And for the first time in his life, he felt utterly and completely exposed.

———

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough, as though he’d swallowed gravel. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?”

You stiffened, your brows knitting together in a glare that could have frozen the sun. “That’s none of your concern.”

He laughed softly, the sound devoid of its usual bravado. “Oh, but it is, sweetheart. I’m your boyfriend, remember?” His voice dipped into that familiar, playful lilt, but there was something else beneath it now—a hunger, a yearning he didn’t fully understand.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you didn’t pull away. Not yet. That tiny sliver of hope spurred him on, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every rational thought in his head.

“I bet no one’s dared,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin as his thumb traced slow circles against your jaw. “You’re too intimidating. Too untouchable.”

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “But not to me.”

And then, he closed the gap.

It wasn’t a calculated move, nor was it born of confidence. It was instinctive, driven by a force he couldn’t name. His lips brushed yours, tentative and hesitant, as though afraid you might shatter beneath his touch.

For a fraction of a second, everything else fell away—the city lights, the Ferris wheel, the constant cacophony of his mind. All that existed was you, the impossible warmth of you, and the way your lips were softer than he’d dared imagine—

And then, the world snapped back into focus.

Your palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, resounding slap that echoed through the tiny cabin. The force of it sent his head snapping to the side, his lips tingling from the abrupt end of the kiss.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, your voice as sharp and cold as a blade.

He blinked, stunned for a moment, before his signature grin broke across his face. His cheek was already reddening, and he rubbed it with a dramatic wince, leaning back in his seat as though to put some distance between you.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it. Ice queen stays frosty. My bad for trying to thaw you out a little.”

His tone was playful, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something raw and uncertain that he buried as quickly as it surfaced.

You glared at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “This is a transactional relationship. Don’t forget that.”

“Transaction noted,” he quipped, the grin never leaving his face. “But for the record? That slap was totally worth it.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath that he couldn’t quite catch, and turned your attention back to the window.

But he didn’t stop watching you.

As he rubbed his sore cheek, his grin softened into something quieter, something closer to a smile. He didn’t fully understand what had compelled him to kiss you, nor did he understand why your rejection didn’t sting the way it should have.

All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, he wanted to try again.

———

“Did you think that was going to work?” you interrupted, your tone sharp enough to cut steel.

He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as the initial shock melted into something more familiar: that damn grin. “Wow, okay. I go for one kiss—one—and you act like I tried to steal your soul.”

“You did try to steal something,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “My patience.”

“That’s already gone,” he countered, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “You can’t slap me twice for the same crime.”

“Try me,” you said, your glare unwavering.

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine as he rubbed his cheek. “Man, you’re vicious. It’s kind of hot.”

────────────

He watched as you rubbed your sleeve across your mouth, your motions brisk and unrelenting, as though scrubbing the very memory of him off your skin. His grin faltered for just a second, invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking too closely. Of course, you weren’t—you never were. Your focus was singular, your eyes narrowed and lips pressed in a thin, disapproving line as though he’d just committed a cardinal sin.

It stung more than he cared to admit. Not that he’d let you see it. No, no. His ego may have been bruised, but he wasn’t about to lick his wounds in front of you. Instead, he leaned back in his seat with a dramatic sigh, one hand pressed over his chest as though your rejection had physically pierced him.

“Wow,” he drawled, his tone laced with exaggerated disbelief. “I didn’t realize my kiss was that traumatic. Should I be offended or impressed by your dedication to erasure?”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but it only fueled the smirk crawling back onto his face.

“Seriously,” he continued, ignoring the icy tension radiating off you. “I’ve seen people wipe ketchup off their mouths with less vigor. I mean, I’m not that bad, am I?”

You didn’t respond, too busy swiping at your lips like a woman possessed, as though the mere memory of his touch was a poison you needed to purge.

He leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening to a dangerous edge. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna scrub your skin raw. And here I thought I was the one who left a mark.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped, your tone colder than the winter wind.

“Oh, but it’s so easy when you’re this much fun.” He rested his chin in his palm, his grin widening as he studied you like you were his favorite puzzle. “Though I gotta say, you’re hurting my feelings here. Most girls would be swooning right about now. But you?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Stone cold. A real ice queen through and through.”

“Good,” you bit back, finally lowering your sleeve. “Maybe you’ll think twice before pulling another stunt like that.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, but there was a flicker of something more behind it—something softer, unspoken. “You think I’m gonna stop? Not a chance. You’re way too fun to mess with.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back to the window. “Whatever. Just…keep your distance.”

“Sure thing, princess.” His voice dipped into a mock-serious tone, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “But don’t blame me when you start dreaming about it later. They say first kisses are unforgettable, after all.”

Your hand twitched like you were debating whether or not to slap him again, but you refrained, choosing instead to glare daggers at the glass.

He leaned back with a satisfied hum, crossing his arms as his grin softened into something quieter, something almost contemplative.

You might have been disgusted, but at least you weren’t indifferent. That thought alone was enough to keep his grin intact.

———

The cabin settled into a tense quiet, broken only by the faint creaks of the Ferris wheel as it descended. You’d stopped scrubbing at your lips, though the memory of his clumsy attempt lingered, palpable and unwelcome. With a slow, deliberate breath, you turned your focus outward, toward the sprawling view of the amusement park bathed in fractured, golden light.

“I’ll have you know,” you said softly, your voice sharp yet devoid of its earlier venom, “that wasn’t my first kiss.”

The words were like a scalpel, slicing clean and deep, leaving behind a sting that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t show it. He never did.

Instead, he let out a short laugh, tilting his head as though brushing off your statement with his usual flippancy. “Well, color me surprised,” he drawled, his tone laced with mock astonishment. “The ice queen has a romantic history. Who’d have thought?”

You didn’t respond, didn’t rise to the bait. The apathy in your gaze was unyielding, and that, more than your words, struck a chord he couldn’t name.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly restless, the smirk on his face becoming harder to maintain. Something stirred beneath his practiced exterior, an unfamiliar heat that crawled up his spine and settled, uncomfortably, in his chest.

Why did it matter?

He leaned back, forcing a casual posture, though the muscles in his jaw tightened. “Well, good for you,” he said, a little too quickly, a little too brightly. “Guess I can’t claim to be your first, huh?”

There it was again, that strange burning sensation. It twisted and coiled, feeding on itself, until it became something dark and unrelenting. He told himself it was nothing—just his ego stinging from your rejection. But deep down, in a part of himself he rarely acknowledged, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

You tilted your head slightly, your profile illuminated by the faint glow of the park below. “It wasn’t anything special,” you said, your tone devoid of emotion. “Just another transaction.”

Another transaction.

The words settled like lead in his stomach.

He laughed again, louder this time, but the sound rang hollow in his own ears. “Figures,” he said, his voice pitched light and teasing, masking the weight behind the words. “Trust you to make even romance sound like a business deal.”

You glanced at him, one brow arched, and for a moment, he thought you might say something else. Instead, you turned back to the window, your posture relaxed but distant, like the space between you was a chasm neither of you could—or would—cross.

His gaze lingered on you, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way the faint light cast shadows across your face. That burning sensation flared again, sharp and insistent, as though it were trying to tell him something he wasn’t ready to hear.

He didn’t understand it—this sudden, inexplicable need to prove himself to you, to earn something that no transaction could buy. It gnawed at him, a quiet fury that wouldn’t be silenced, no matter how much he tried to brush it off.

For the first time in his life, he felt unsteady, uncertain, as though the foundation he’d built himself on was beginning to crack.

And he hated it.

“Must’ve been a hell of a boring kiss,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bet I could’ve done better.”

You snorted softly, but didn’t take the bait.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken, as the Ferris wheel continued its slow descent.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t feel like laughing.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring

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ritchiepage2001newaccount · 1 day ago

Text

WHY UNIVERSAL BACKGROUND CHECKS ARE JUST AS UNLIKELY AS EVER, UNFORTUNATELY

I'm a leftist (Libertarian-Socialist), who votes progressive, because I live under an "elected" government, and I had thought I had purged the MSNBC/CNN Nation from my friends list, but apparently not, as my timeline is just chock-full of media-driven hysteria over current events, so here's a primer:

"Liberals" who think their arguments are clever or relevant to the Second Amendment are exhausting.

They are not the left; they are just one half of the good cop/bad cop act of the corporate owned fire-hose of bullshit that is the corporate media, and corporate America's governing criminal cartel/duopoly.

Both cults "I like simple and ineffectual 'solutions', because they make me feel like I'm doing something, and I'm just stinky with fear."

There are over a hundred million legal gun owners, who some want to punish for somebody else's crime.

Well, there are some things to consider.

We've been a heavily armed country since 1621, and yet the epidemic of daily mass-shootings didn't begin until 20 April 1999 (Columbine), at a time when gun ownership was at an all-time low, and five years after Clinton's assault-weapons ban, so maybe guns aren't the variable.

Worth noting: One of the first things the "Pilgrims" did when they betrayed the Native Americans, was disarm "King Phillip" and his men.

Maybe, just maybe, dead school-children are the price of the neoliberalism practiced under the "Washington Consensus" of BOTH right-wing authoritarian parties since the 1980's? When your country offers you no prospects, and you become terrified of the future, what then? Fear can make unstable people do desperate things. Add to that a culture of celebrity, and what could possibly go wrong?

Another factor that goes completely unexamined, is the way Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neill emptied our state hospitals onto our streets, and onto families ill-equipped to deal with the sometimes violent mentally ill.

Thank God, the "solution" is so simple…

Also, 84% of NRA members support universal background checks. The problem is, every time a bill comes up for a vote, Democrats add poison pill amendments guaranteeing defeat in the legislature (and the courts), and then they proceed to tell the TV cameras that "once again the GOP and the gun lobby have voted down background checks and defied the will of the people", or some such nonsense.

If you want to watch Dems sabotage universal background checks (while Republicans roll their eyes and face-palm) in real time, go here:

It's like a version of Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray can't learn.

P.S. You can probably guess which one of these three groups I belong to (Hint: It's the one that's growing and actually decides elections):

LaborPartyNow!!!

P S The line, "You don't need 30 rounds to shoot a deer!" is not clever.

The Second Amendment has nothing to do with hunting tools, toys for hobbyists (target shooting), or even weapons for self-defense.

It's about ARMS!!!

It's about the individual citizen's right to arms, so they'll be prepared to join a militia, not the other way around. ‘Well regulated’ at that time, simply meant, ‘efficient.’ In other words, in order for a muster to be efficient, civilians needed to be already armed.

So the "collective rights" argument has a couple of problems that make it quite unhinged from history and reality.

1) As I've mentioned above, Americans have always been relatively heavily armed. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

2) Contrary to what you were probably taught in school, by the time of the Confederate artillery barrage on Fort Sumter, the war over slavery had already been going on for over six years, and was fought entirely by independent volunteer militia's. Fort Sumter was just the beginning of official involvement by government troops. How did that happen in a collective rights paradigm?

3) In what universe do government forces need to have their right to arms protected?

4) Since when do National Guard members keep National Guard arms (Hint: they're kept at the armory, and have been since colonial times)?

5) Obviously, "Liberals" are stupid.

Again: #LaborPartyNow!!!

P P S That was ENTIRELY the point of the first fruits of dissent, the 10 Amendments we've come to call the BILL OF RIGHTS (which have become a beacon to aspiring democrats all over the world), to protect INDIVIDUALS from the government they had just created. #TrueStory

"Facts are stubborn things, so fuck your feelings." -John Adams

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cressidagrey · 3 days ago

Text

Such A Mystery - Part 12 - The End

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 12 of 12!

They were alone. Just the three of them.

Colette had never felt so exhausted in her entire life. But she had also never been so happy. Charlie had been fed once more and had then fallen back asleep, curled up on her father’s chest. Colette herself could barely keep her eyes open.

And she should be sleeping, but she could only watch her daughter curled up against Max's chest.

"How did we manage to create something so perfect?" She asked him softly.

Max let out a tired little huff of laughter, not bothering to open his eyes. “She is perfect, isn’t she?” he murmured quietly.

Colette felt a smile tugging at her face. “Perfect and absolutely beautiful,” she agreed quietly, shifting a little to get a better look at the two of them. "So perfect it almost hurts to look at her."

Max smiled at her. "I...There is this thing you should know," he said hesitantly.

Something about his tone, the hesitance in his voice, made Colette pause. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

"I may have told the whole world about us? On Instagram?" he admitted with a grimace.

She could only snort at that. "I think your father made sure that that cat was out of the bag," she told him drily. "What did you say?"

"That we have been a couple for 15 years. That I couldn't be happier with you and our little family," he said simply. "I wanted everybody to hear our truth," Max said softly. "Not what other people write."

"There is a romantic inside you after all," Colette teased him softly.

"You aren't angry?" Max checked.

Colette sighed. "Not at you," she said simply. "I can't be angry at you. You just want people to know how happy we are together. We kept it quiet for years for me," Colette said, staring at her daughter. "Is it weird that it feels like she put everything into perspective?" she asked him, nodding towards Charlie. "I just...I don't care anymore,” she admitted.

Max stared at her, blue eyes wide, but Colette just shrugged. “I was terrified for so long what people were going to think about me once they knew about us...but now...I don't care. What does it matter?"

Max reached over and laced his fingers through hers. "It doesn't," he promised her. "I'll start screaming it from the rooftops tomorrow, if you'll let me."

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "I think the media already knows," she teased, squeezing his hand. "We can just put my Instagram on public and let them eat their heart out," she suggested. It wasn’t meant seriously. Not really.

But the more she thought about it, she wondered if that was what it was going to take. Opening up the digital scrapbook of her life. Letting anybody have a peek at their relationship. Hoping that finally they would understand.

"We'd break the internet," Max retorted, grinning at her.

Colette laughed. "We really, really would. Reason enough to do it?" she teased him.

"And give my PR team a heart attack? Absolutely,” Max returned immediately. “Tell me when.”

"I love you," she told him seriously. "And I am ready to love you in public too."

She had done it from the shadows for 15 years after all.

He stared at her. "Are...Are you sure?"

"I am very, very sure, mon coeur," Colette told him softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "The only opinion that matters to me is yours - and my family's. I don't care what anyone else thinks," she added, glancing down at Charlie again, who slept blissfully on, cuddled against Max's chest.

"If people want to call me an attention whore or a gold digger, they are welcome to it," Colette said quietly. "I don't care. I'm happy and you're happy and our baby is happy. Let them write whatever they want."

***

"Marry me," Max blurted out.

His words came out of his mouth before he had even realised what he was saying. The room suddenly became very quiet, as if all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked out of it, and Max suddenly realised that he had just blurted out the question he had been meaning to ask for months, at a time that couldn’t be further from ideal.

Colette was staring at him, her eyebrows raised and a look of surprise on her face. She seemed frozen and totally caught off guard by his question. And he didn’t blame her for that. She was exhausted, and had just given birth, and here he was, bombarding her with questions as if this was the perfect moment to do it.

But then she smiled at him.

"Yes," Colette said simply. "Always yes. You know that.”

Relief surged through him so strongly, Max thought he might just about collapse. She had said yes.

Granted she had said yes the last time as well.

He remembered that day like it had been yesterday…remembered coming home that May evening in 2016…Fuelled with adrenaline from his first “proper” win. Remembered the trophy that still had a place of pride in their living room…the bottle of champagne, the Pirelli cap…and the ring that he had bought after that race. The celebratory crepes for breakfast the next day where still a tradition they kept with.

Max felt like he could have exploded there and then, just from happiness. He couldn’t believe that he had just asked her, that she had just said yes. It didn’t feel real. It felt like something out of a dream.

"Yes?" he repeated incredulously, just to make sure he hadn’t actually dreamt it. "You’ll marry me?"

"Properly this time," she teased him, with the most beautiful smile on her face, as she leane up to press a kiss against his lips. “I’ll marry you, Maxie.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, the sound breathless. It wasn’t just exhaustion that made him sound like that, it was disbelief, a sort of giddy lightness.

"Properly this time," he echoed back to her, his words soft. "You’ll marry me properly."

He couldn’t actually believe she was saying yes. "I do have a ring," he assured her. "It's at home. I hid it in the trophy."

Colette laughed. "Of course, you hid it in the trophy," she repeated, her voice warm and amused."Of course you did."

Max gave her what he hoped was at least a resemblance of a sheepish look. “Where else would it be safe?” he said defensively. "And I know you wouldn't look there," he added.

"A perfect place to hide something you don't want me to find," Colette agreed.

Max grinned at her. "Exactly," he said happily, gently brushing her hair from her face.

"Which trophy?" she asked him seriously.

"Spain 2016," he answered honestly. His first one. The one.

"You hid it in the 2016 trophy?" Colette repeated, her smile widening into a grin. "Really?"

"Just felt appropriate,” he answered honestly. He still remembered handing it to Colette for the first time, the ring that he had bought clanging around in the bottom of it.

"It is," she agreed softly, leaning up to press a kiss against his lips.

Max smiled against her mouth, his arms tightening around her, pulling her a little closer. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. He couldn’t believe he had just blurted out the one question he had been wanting to ask for ages, and she had actually just said yes.

"You’re really going to marry me," he mumbled against her mouth, unable to help the words. "You’re actually going to marry me."

"I had your baby, but this is what shocks you?" Colette asked him with a laugh.

He laughed, pulling her closer again and nuzzling his face into her shoulder, her words causing him to blush faintly. “I love you,” he mumbled against her skin quietly.

"I love you too," she echoed back quietly. "And yes, I will marry you. As many times as you’ll ask."

"I am the luckiest man in the whole world," he said softly.

"No, I’m the luckiest," she told him gently, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close again. "To have you, and this, and Charlie, and all of it. It’s everything I ever wanted.”

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skipper1331 · 3 days ago

Text

Crash // Alessia Russo

Request: hey, could you please write some angst for alessia if possible.

a/n: hope u like it :))

warnings: car crash

"Where are you taking me?" Alessia grumbled with her arms crossed as she sat in the passengers seat, not amused by the fact that she sat in the passenger seat.

"You know, I don‘t like it when you drive" she added, her frown only deepening.

Playfully offended, you gasped, "are you saying I’m not a good driver?"

She turned to you, answering dead serious, "yes!" she crumbled under the glare she got in return, your raised eyebrow never a good sign "no" she mumbled, her fingers slowly interviewing with yours. "It‘s my job to drive you around, not the other way around" the striker continued to ramble about the situation while you just smiled to yourself.

Usually, Alessia was always sat behind the steering wheel, driving you to your destinations. And though, you were able to drive yourself (license in your wallet since years) the blonde insisted on driving you every time. She even drove you to appointments that didn't involve her, such as coffee dates with your friends or else. She loved driving and especially driving you around or you just seated in the passenger seat.

"But I’ve a surprise for you, so relax" you smiled, "you‘re even allowed to be dj" you grinned, the blonde always complaining that you wouldn’t even play one song of her choice.

"You‘ve got the passenger princess privileges, use them, love"

Alessia grumbled something before she connected her phone, her playlist starting to play. "You‘re lucky you‘re cute"

You had something really nice planned which she would definitely enjoy. Lately, everything has been stressful with your studies and all the exams that were coming up. And Lessi had shown nothing but love and support during this time, which is why you wanted to do something special as a thank you.

Everything was perfect so far, the blonde slowly accepting the fact that you sat behind the steering wheel instead of her, the conversation flowing easily as always until suddenly a car appeared out of nowhere, hitting your side with a force.

That’s the last thing you remember.

"Is she okay?" Alessia asked the medic with a raspy shaky voice, panic radiating of her body. She didn‘t know where you were. The ambulance left immediately with you, everything happening so fast. One second, she was telling you about the derby and in the other second, the car left the road and hit a tree.

"Ma‘am, you need to sit." The medic ordered as Alessia attempted to get up, hissing in pain. Her arm and shoulder hurt awfully, her face slightly bloody as it trickled down her forehead and nose.

"No! I need to know! She wasn‘t speaking, her eyes were closed! I- i don’t know"

The medics tried to calm her down the best they could, but it didn‘t help much.

After a short examination of her, the second ambulance left for the hospital.

In the hospital, Alessia went through several checks. Her arm was broken but thankfully it was a straight and simple fraction and nothing splintered. Her cuts were taken care of, only the large one on her forehead needing stitches. "You were very lucky" the doctor explained, also explaining the rest of her treatment and more. But Alessia couldn’t listen, all she could think about was you.

Are you alright? Are you alive? Where are you? What was happening?

"What about my wife? Is she alright? Please tell me she‘s alright" Alessia begged, tears streaming down her face.

Alessia sat next to your bed, holding your hand, praying that you would open your eyes. Just anything.

She sat there for hours, not leaving your side at all. Each time a nurse came in, the blonde wanted to know everything. What were they doing? What meant this sound or that? Are you getting better? Anything. The thought of you not waking up was terrifying her.

"Lessi, i think you should go for a walk. Grab a coffee and some fresh air" her mother ordered, sensing that her daughter was thinking too much, holding your hand tightly.

"I can’t" she replied, her eyes not leaving your face.

"Less, she‘s right. As soon as something happens, we‘ll tell you immediately. I promise" your mother joined the conversation now.

"Ok-ay" in trance she stood up, walking backwards to the door, her eyes not leaving yours until she was out of the room.

When Alessia came back, nothing had happened (she hadn‘t even been gone for 5 minutes) yet she was disappointed. This was her worst nightmare.

She wasn’t able to protect you.

You looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed, so fragile. It broke her heart.

In the evening, her mum and your mum said their good bye to the girl, promising to come back in the morning, Alessia still refusing to leave your side and to sleep at home. She couldn’t.

You needed her.

You woke up in a bright room, groaning in pain. Looking around, you saw Carol sitting on a chair, reading a magazine. "Hey, you’re up" the magazine was long forgotten as she was at your side, offering you some water.

"Less" you rasped. You fiddled with the duvet, memories flashing in front of your eyes.

Car.

Tree.

Blood.

Less.

"Stay" her mother ordered, already calling the nurse.

"Where‘s Lessi?" you cried in pain, scared and terrified.

"Love!" Alessia‘s eyes widened as she re-entered your room, only gone for a minute to use the bathroom. "You‘re awake" she was at your side in an instant, holding your hand and rapidly kissing it. The other hand trying her best to cradle your head with the cast, "how are you feeling?"

"I‘m so sorry" you cried, "your car" you sobbed.

"I don’t care about the car right now" she stated firmly, wiping away the tears.

"You love your Mercedes"

"I don’t care about that stupid car. You‘re awake!" her voice slightly raised by all the emotions she was feeling.

In that moment a nurse came in, checking all things before the doctor joined, explaining everything and the following steps.

Carol left after the medical team had gone out of the room, sensing that both of you needed a minute alone, calling your mother to let her know what the doctor said.

"I‘ll pay you back, i promise" you refused to look at her, ashamed that the one time you were driving of course something had to happen.

"Look at me, please" she pleaded, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t seen your open eyes in days and now you refused to look at her. She couldn’t handle it. The lack of you in the last few days had been awful for her and not knowing if you would ever wake up, had been more than terrifying. It was a feeling she wouldn’t want anybody to feel. This fear, the feeling of not being able to breathe, as if her chest was constricting with every movement. And then the thoughts. Mentally she couldn't find rest because she hoped, prayed and mourned. There were too many emotions at once and the strongest of them was the most unpredictable - love. What would you do out of love?

When you looked at her, you realized how scared she must have been the last few days.

"Please don‘t cry" you whispered as you saw the tears, the exhaustion on her face and her injuries, "i thought-" she hiccuped, all feelings bubbling to the surface.

"I love you, i don‘t care about the Mercedes, okay? All i care about is you and that you‘re alive. That‘s all that ever matters to me" her hands cupped your cheeks, crying even more.

"Come here" groaning in pain, you scooted to the side, "stop moving. what are you doing!" Lessi asked with wide eyes, panic in her expression.

"Come here, please" with the pout on your face, she just couldn’t say no. She needed this just as much as you did. You leaned against her, head resting on her shoulder as your hand held her shirt, seeking comfort in her touch.

"I‘m sorry for driving, i just wanted to do something special" you whispered, "i never wanted to get you hurt" you mumbled, scared, exhausted and still in pain after everything.

"No more of that. We can worry about everything later, right now i just need you close" she replied, her tightening her grip around you (not even to hurt you), slowly calming down.

You were alive.

You were in her arms.

You were alive.

She couldn’t care less about her car or about your surprise or literally anything else in this world.

All that mattered was you.

"I love you so so much."

Everything was going to be okay.

It was you and her against the world.

And she would support you on every step of the way of your recovery because that‘s what wives do. In sickness and in health just like she had promised.

Like the doctor said, "it‘s going to take its time but you‘ll fully recover" and that’s what Alessia held onto. Because sometimes the only thing that helps is hope. Alessia’s hopes and believes were stronger than her fears. Hope was stronger than any fear, especially when it came to the life of a loved one. Someone that was you. Someone who’s loved so deeply by Alessia and everyone around you. Your wife never gave up, never lost her hope and faith in you and your strength. Because if she had done so, she might had lost herself at the same time.

Love was unconditional and unpredictable - that‘s what made it special.

And Alessia truly did love you, more than anything in this world (and definitely more than her Mercedes)

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #lionesses #engwnt #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #arsenal women #arsenal x reader

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svnflowerkae · 1 day ago

Text

How LADS boys reacts to Caleb's return

So...first time ever doing this type of thing and since I can't sleep and my mind keeps me on thinking about this...here we go! Also sorry if thare are typos/errors.

tw: MC can be read as reader, gn!reader, angsty, comfort, they boys are MAD (esp Zayne), mention of death, grieving, time skip (based on the story events).

Sylus has been worried all day about you. He knew something off but he never insisted on letting you talk before you were sure. You've been pacing in his living room for awhile, your phone in your hands. You couldn't believe that the Official Linkon City Hall contacted you to confirm that Grandma and Caleb were officially dead. You whole life was falling about again, right in front of you, again.

As you put stop to go in circles, Sylus carefully approached you. He didn't want to make things harder than they were already were but he couldn't bear seeing you suffering. As he hugged you, you started to sob uncontrollably, trembling in his arms. Sylus kissed your head, swaying the two of you, trying to calm you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm here, let it all out". His hand caressing your check. His thumb taking away a few of your tears. You were so shocked that even if you wanted to talk, tell everything to Sylus, you couldn't. It's like your voice disappeared.

Sylus continue to kiss your head, caressing your face and giving you lots and lots of comfort. After a while you fell asleep on his chest.

Sylus didn't really knew Caleb and he just knew, from you, that you two were very close friends. He knew though that something was off and he was going to investigate it. If this Caleb was really going to be back he would make sure he never hunted you again.

Rafayel the day he was aware of the possible of Caleb was on the defensive side. You talked about him a few times and Rafayel saw how you grieved about his death. Countless nights and days passed by before you could get yourself together, even a little bit to be a functioning human again. And countless were the nights and days were Rafayel spent his time beside you, even if that meant not painting at all. You were is first and for most priority and, at that time, he certainly couldn't leave you all alone.

At the news, Rafayel made sure you were always by his side. His protective side coming off and scaring everyone who was approaching you. He barely showed this side of him, but in this case? In this case he couldn't let a stupid, foolish human to be near you again, not after what he saw.

"Miss bodyguard, what about I paint something for you?" Rafayel asked, his cheerful self trying to make you smile. Your eyes were watching the distant sea, completely lost in your thoughts. But Rafayel didn't have to wait for an answer. Posing his head on your thighs he looked at the most precious thing in his life: you. Caressing your thighs and hands, Rafayel never stopped to stare at you and when you turn your gaze to him a smile was on your face. Your hands messed up Rafayel'a hair. A playful pout on his face.

But for Rafayel that was enough to know you acknowledge he was there for you.

Xavier and you were cuddling on the couch, watching a film they were making on TV. Not to lie, it was a bit boring and Xavier was about to sleep when he heard a small sob coming from you. At first he was confused but then saw you with your telephone in hands, reading a message.

If weeks prior the Linkon City Hall had texted you that Grandma and Caleb were officially deceased, now, there was a possibility that, at least Caleb, was alive. You hoped for that dearly, your heart aching at the possibility of seeing your best friend. Xavier saw you were blocked on that screen for a long time, tears streaming down your face as your body subtly twitched.

Xavier hugged you, his head on the crook of your neck. He wasn't very good with words and he knew little to nothing about this Caleb and your relationship with him. You barely talked about the accident, too hurtful for you. Xavier kissed your cheeck many times, even biting it lovingly to make you calm down. He wanted to make sure you knew he was there with you and for you.

Whoever this Caleb was, Xavier would do anything to protect you. At the end, he was your Lumiere.

Zayne knew this moment was coming, it was inevitable but after seeing you destroyed after the bomb accident he couldn't let him hurt you again. How could Zayne forget how you barely eat and sleep? How could he bear the sight of his loved one suffer again?

You been quiet for days, always going to the Hospital Zayne worked for. He knew you did this especially when something was not right. Zayne shift ended a few minutes ago and he let you into his studios. You two were in complete silence, the only sound in the room were you and Zayne chewing on your food.

Zayne felt so sorry but at the same time he was controlling himself. Seeing your face calmed him down a bit.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. He wasn't one to show easily his emotion, but he too, knew you since when you too were little. He didn't gain an answer from you, but, that was an answer for him. He tried to talk to you, comforting you but you seemed in another space. Getting up, Zayne sited on the chair next you. His hands now were taking yours, leaving kisses here and there. You sniffed and, after a long time, you finally looked at him. A small smile appeared on your face. Zayne smiled back.

If it was true that Caleb's was really alive, he would make sure that he could never be near you again.

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus lads #rafayel lads #xavier lads #zayne lads #sylus love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #l&ds rafayel #l&ds xavier #l&ds zayne #sylus x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader

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alagaisia · 17 hours ago

Note

I really think that as long as you’re bringing it to a good, reputable shelter with high turnover, you can think of it in a purely positive way. You’re giving that pet a chance to find a home and a family that are a better fit where they might be much happier. And, a surrendered pet at a shelter often comes with a lot more information about its likes and wants and behaviors and habits (compared to puppies/kittens or strays) and someone who is looking for a pet with exactly the traits that didn’t work for you will be so glad that you were able to tell the shelter all about the pet.

I’m coming to this from the other side- my family has only ever adopted dogs from the Animal Humane Society, and we’ve had incredible luck. Our first dog, my sweet Cosmo, love of my life, was not quite this situation- he had an elderly owner who either passed or had to move to a care facility when he was two years old- but regardless he was an adult dog with good training and an established personality, so we knew something of what we were getting ourselves into with a first dog. We grew up together and he was a wonderful companion for 14 years until he passed last summer. Squiggy, our little muppet mutt, was a failed designer dog whose original owner hadn’t realized that a purse dog puppy would still need training and attention, and while he was a little old to just be starting potty training by the time we got him, he figured it out. He has bells hung by the back door that he rings when he wants to go outside. He’s very dumb but so fluffy and he’ll snuggle right up under your chin if he’s not busy following my mom everywhere (or crying if he can’t find her).

Our most recent dog, Wilson, we got just a few weeks ago. He’s four years old, very smart, very curious, such a sweetheart. He was a surrendered dog from a family that had recently had to move into a smaller space due to a house fire, and the family didn’t have room to give him his own space (apparently he’d had his own whole room at their old house). He was reported to have issues with chewing on shoes and furniture. We think that maybe this isn’t the whole story, and that there were other lifestyle incompatibilities that led to him being put up for adoption.

For one, we have not had any issues with him chewing on anything at all that he’s not supposed to (although he has rapidly dissected a great many stuffed dog toys). It’s quite possible this was an anxious response. Or, an exaggeration, so that his previous owners didn’t feel as guilty giving him up. He also has very little training for a four-year-old as smart as he is; he learns very quickly, so he knows “sit” already, but it seemed like he knew “no” and not much else when he first got home. He also was not entirely house trained, and didn’t seem to super understand the concept of having a yard (but he’s picked up on both of those things already!). So we think that even in his owners’ previous house, him having his own room may have been more to keep him out of the way than anything else, and he maybe didn’t get as much attention as he needed until he was constantly underfoot.

Obviously I’m a little biased, since I enjoy having him around, but I think Wilson might have a much better life with us than he had with his previous owners (who got him as a puppy from a breeder!) even though there wasn’t necessarily a “good” reason for them to give him up. It seems like they maybe liked the idea of having a dog, and didn’t realize until their living situation changed that he didn’t actually fit that well into their lifestyle. And that’s fine, because it means my family got to bring home a wonderful new dog who we adore. My dad bought him a hoodie so that they can have matching outfits. He gets to play so much fetch. I’m knitting him a sweater to match the one I made for our other dog last year.

Pets that go to shelters are not doomed to a sad and lonely life in a cage. They go on to have wonderful loving families with lifestyles that can prioritize the needs of a pet and they live ✨happily ever after.✨ Just because it’s the end of their time with you doesn’t mean it’s the end of their life. It’s an opportunity for them to get a second chance at that forever home.

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame.

#personal

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wtfaniii · 2 days ago

Note

Hear me out- VIP reader and Frontman In-ho

Reader goes up to In-ho and is all like “I’m bored, can you entertain me?” And bro goes “You shouldn’t be bored, and I’m not really on the table for entertainment, but I’ll see what I can do” then ensues actions n shit. Really most of this is dealers choice in everything that happens, I just want more VIP reader content <3333

Uhhh I love it!!! I hope I understood what you expected from this!

A better show

Fem reader VIP x Front man

Summary: You are looking for better entertainment than just shows where low-class people die.

Warning: Nothing explicit but some innuendo, flirting, some submission.

N/A: I've only written smut once in my life HAHAHA, I hope you like this.

Money buys happiness.

Or at least that's what everyone around you had told you for as long as could remember.

You were disgustingly rich and beautiful but few dared to approach you for fear of rejection or your bodyguards.

You wanted action so when they talked to you about financing some deadly games for entertainment you accepted, however, this was only your third year attending as a spectator and fell asleep during the second half hour, if it weren't for the wonderful liquor they served you would surely be snoring.

Once again, you were a spectator as the players played lut, you were bored but the only thing that made you come back every year to that place and wear a heavy gold-plated honey badger mask was to enjoy the presence of a certain masked man dressed in black.

There was something about him posture and voice that captivated you, you could even swear that from time to time he saw you too.

And you were right, In-ho looked at you sometimes, she was the only woman who was part of the VIPs and your bored expression throughout the show seemed intriguing to him.

All these men were disgusting and to him you were a beautiful flower growing in a pond of dirty water.

Even though he had never seen your face even once.

Although of course, you also had a certain selfish and classist character, you had only learned what you were taught since you were a little kid.

They both looked at each other and you, with a smile that showed your white teeth, snapped your fingers and gestured for him to come closer.

However, he sent one of his employees to which you quickly denied —No, you —You pointed the finger at him specifically and he had no choice but to obey you.

Maybe the alcohol was taking its toll on your system but this time you were feeling bolder than usual, just to be sure, you took one last big sip from your glass as he stopped next to you.

—¿Do you need anything? —he asked cautiously.

That deep voice and the scent of him perfume made you sigh and squeeze your legs together.

Yeah... you'd definitely had enough alcohol for tonight.

—I'm bored, ¿can you make this night more entertaining for me?

From the way you looked at him and the pout on your lips, In-ho immediately knew what you meant, but he decided to play with fire a little, nothing in this life is easy.

—¡Uh!... It seems our dear badger wants some honey —said the man with the lion mask using a playful and funny tone.

You ignored him, you were now too focused on getting what you wanted to get angry over a few rude words.

—I apologize if this bores you, but I'm in no position to entertain, I just maintain order and make sure the guests are happy.

From your posture he could tell that you didn't like that answer but he also knew that you wouldn't give up.

—I'm a guest and I'm not happy —You faked a smile—I'd be happy if you sat down with me, believe me, I'll make sure you don't get into trouble.

The silence in the room lasted a few seconds, In-ho felt the gaze of the other guests on you but that didn't stop him from continuing to challenge you.

—I repeat, the entertainment is not my responsibility, but if you agree, I will look for way to... satisfy you.

Front man walked to his podium and made some motions for someone to take charge while he took care of you.

After a few minutes he turned to you and extended his hand with chivalry and elegance.

—¿Would you like to accompany me to a more private place?

You smiled under the mask and took him gloved hand as you stood up.

—Gentlemen, I say goodbye for tonight, you guys keep enjoying the trivial spectacle.

You said calmly, despite the exotic environment you were in you still maintained your education and manners.

—¡Have fun! —the man in the buffalo mask exclaimed, followed by a loud laugh.

"They are idiots" you thought, letting yourself be guided by the handsome masked man.

You two took a few more steps until you reached a somewhat colorful room with a huge sofa in the center.

—After you —he said softly, giving a small bow and leaving a chaste kiss on the back of your hand.

You could only feel the cold material his mask was made of but you kept quiet, the simple act made your heart warm, it was ironic how you called him just for some fun but this man could make you shiver with a couple of non-sexual actions, it was just him.

Once you walked in and looked around at the bright colors you heard him close and lock the door, then you felt his presence behind you.

He very delicately placed his hands on your shoulders and pulled down your golden robe a little, revealing the bare skin of your neck, collarbone and shoulders.

In-ho paid attention to your breathing, that way he would know if he was doing it right or not, he took off one of his gloves to allow you to feel his skin touch you.

—¿Can you take off your mask? —You murmured curiously.

—I'm afraid that would be impossible, our identities are protected for security reasons.

You sighed and turned on your heels to stand in front of him, not allowing him to say or do anything you placed your own hands on golden mask and removed it revealing your face.

Once you dropped the mask to the ground In-ho remained silent, observing your features.

You were younger than he had thought, your eyes looked at him with desire but at the same time confidence and longed for affection, ¿how bad did your life have to be to look for affection in a stranger with a mask?

When you put your hands on his covered face and tried to remove the mask, he stopped you and walked away from you to the couch and grab a black cloth bandage.

—If you want me to take off the mask, you'll have to cover your eyes.

It wasn't a fair deal but you accepted it just because you were starting to get wet just from him attitude.

[...]

The soft sound of your breathing as he kissed the skin of your neck was the only thing that could be heard in the room, In-ho was sitting on the couch without his top clothes on, his lips leaving a trail of wet marks on your neck and his hands resting on your hip.

You felt so vulnerable and surrendered to him as you straddled him lap, naked and blindfolded.

You were used to having control over everything, giving orders and other things but this feeling of knowing that someone else could have control over you, could move you or manipulate you was new, it was exciting.

You let out a gasp as you felt the leader's fingers move closer to your core, teasing you a little.

—You're very anxious, ¿how long have you been waiting for this?

The mockery in his words made you shudder, you moved your hips against him searching for friction but he held you firmly with his other hand.

—Don't move —He whispered in your ear —You asked me to entertain you and that's what I'm going to do.

Seeing your red cheeks and your half-open mouth made In-ho feel his pants tighter than usual, yet he remained calm and continued playing with your center, enjoying the lewd sounds you gave him.

Their lips met in a hungry kiss and you finally had the chance to move your hands a little, which went from being on him chest to descending towards the belt of him pants.

With a few deft movements you got rid of him belt and pulled down his pants with a little effort.

He moaned lowly as he felt your hand caress him, if you could see him you would have seen the lust in his dark eyes and dilated pupils.

—I need you, now —You almost begged, it was pathetic how you begged for more from this man whose face you hadn't even seen.

—Ask me to give you what you want.

He still wanted to continue playing with you a little but he was also as eager as you so as soon as you said "Please" he lifted you up a little and positioned you so he could enter you without any effort because of how wet you were.

In-ho closed his eyes and a soft growl escaped his lips as he guided your movements on him, he would have loved to look into your eyes as you rode him like this but his identity was above that, or at least for now.

Besides, a certain part of him was also excited to be a secret from you.

With his free hand he grabbed your hair, made a small knot and tilted your head back to have access to your neck once again, while you increased the pace of your jumps he was in charge of leaving red marks on your skin.

When he felt you tense up he made you stop and without letting you go he turned you both around so that you ended up on the couch, this time he on top of you.

He began to thrust into you, at first it was slow, letting you feel every inch of him and then he was a little rougher, slowly increasing the speed and strength, your screams of pleasure were music to his ears, your nails scratching his back was another of his favorite sensations.

He placed your legs on his shoulders forcing you to take him completely which made you arch back and moan even louder.

—You are such a beautiful mess... —Lust and desire dripped from his words, he wasn't lying, having you like this under him and causing your screams was almost enough to make him finish inside you but he refrained from doing so, he wanted to keep taking you —You will be completely mine for this night.

He put one of his hands on your neck and squeezed lightly, cutting off your air flow and causing you to moan muffledly. The speed of his thrusts slowed down a little only to pick it up again and after a few seconds you reached your climax.

—¡Oh fuck! —You screamed as soon as you finished and your legs shook, however a soft squeal left your lips when you felt him hot sperm fill you.

It felt so good, this was definitely better than those crappy, boring games.

In-ho was breathing heavily and his face was completely red but he still didn't want to let you go, he had already tasted you and now he wanted more.

They both wanted to continue.

So you didn't refuse when he pulled out of you and made you get off the couch just to kneel in front of him.

—I have never knelt before any man —You said confidently and with an arrogant smile on the side.

—There's always a first time —He wrapped his hand in your hair and settled back with his legs spread on the couch —Now open that pretty little mouth.

You obeyed him without objection and when he could feel your warm mouth around his member it made him throw his head back with a moan.

It would be a long and entertaining night.

Now you can make sure you don't miss any year of these games and he'll be more than happy to give you that pleasure you longed for.

#hwang inho x reader #in ho x reader #in ho squidgame #squid game x reader #squid game #hwang in ho #squid game fic #frontamn x reader #lee byung hun #young-il x reader #front man x you #front man #in ho x you #squidgame x you

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rothpie · 2 days ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part14

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: none (I guess)

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Witnessing Something You’ve Never Experienced

There are moments in life—like when someone’s laughter makes you laugh, when you share their joy, or when you cry together—that are impossible to put into words. Watching someone else’s happiness is priceless. Maybe that’s one of the best things about being human: feeling their happiness as if it were your own.

These were the simplest, purest emotions. And yet, when you saw Cleo and Pope smiling at each other, it was hard to keep your own happiness in check. It almost felt like it wasn’t their story, but yours. Like their vows added something to your life, too.

You’d never been married. In fact, you’d never even come close to it. But as you listened to Cleo and Pope exchange vows, for a moment, you forgot about that emptiness inside you. Standing barefoot on the moonlit beach, watching them hold hands, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

A gentle breeze mingled with the sound of waves breaking on the shore, creating a serene melody in the background. Standing on the sand, you realized how special this moment was. Everyone around you was smiling, even JJ.

He stood a little apart from the crowd, lazily swirling a beer bottle in his hand as he watched the ceremony. His trademark smirk was there, but something about him seemed softer. As if he was sharing in the happiness in his own way.

“You ready to head back?” JJ’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He had come up beside you, gesturing toward the lights at the edge of the beach with his beer bottle.

You weren’t in the best shape, to be honest.

You’d only known Cleo and Pope for four years—a long time, but not forever. You met them through JJ, yet your bond with them felt deeper than just friendship. Cleo, especially, felt like a sister to you. You loved them both and wanted to share in their happiness.

It had been years since you’d felt like this. Your attachment to alcohol had ended alongside everything with Liliana, or so you thought. But now, Liliana was weaned, and you’d found a rare moment to be on your own.

Cleo’s wedding wasn’t a grand affair; it was intimate, with close friends, family, and a few others. Your parents had even come. While they wished the same happiness for you, they also took Liliana with them when the reception started. It was their way of giving you a rare night of freedom.

It wasn’t lost on you that they were doing this for you. Liliana was your baby, but in their eyes, you were still theirs. It was one of the rare times you could just be. A night to be young again.

And JJ—well, you could tell your parents were secretly grateful for him too. They’d told him as much when they thought you weren’t listening. Your dad had even helped him out with work, quietly making sure JJ stayed on track.

You were thankful for this time. For a little while, it felt like the old days. Not reckless or wild, just... young.

And maybe you’d gone a little overboard. You’d been drinking and dancing all night. You weren’t sure how much, but it was enough to notice some concerned glances from people here and there.

Still, it wasn’t just the alcohol. There was tension in you that you hadn’t let out. You hadn’t told JJ that you’d seen Rafe earlier. You just wanted to forget. But seeing him—especially when you were with your daughter—was a heartbreak all its own.

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded. You didn’t feel sharp enough to respond with words, yet somehow, you felt like a genius. “I miss my house,” you mumbled, kicking at the sand.

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “Which house?”

He grabbed your wrist gently, steadying you as you stumbled a bit. His touch moved to your hand, and you couldn’t help but follow his movements, your gaze dropping to the sand.

“All of them,” you replied, your voice a little dreamy. Your answer made JJ laugh harder, the sound blending into the soft music playing in the background. His laughter—it suited everything, like it was a perfect fit for the moment, maybe even better than the music itself.

“All of them? How many houses you got, sweetheart?” he teased, keeping a steady eye on you as if ready to catch you if you fell.

“Two.” You held up two fingers to show him, wobbling slightly. JJ’s hand darted out to catch you by the arm while his other hand held yours firmly.

“Yep, that’s our sign to head out,” he said with a smirk. His hand slipped to your waist as he pulled you closer, keeping you upright. Your bodies brushed against each other, and in your tipsy state, you didn’t have the energy to fight the thoughts that came next.

You couldn’t help but look at him. JJ was one of those people you just had to look at. Admire. Worship, even. Had he really been right in front of you this whole time? What a snack.

“So, one house is in Asheville,” he said, steering you toward your table to grab your bag. “Where’s the other one?”

“You and Liliana.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at you, his mouth opening slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. For a moment, he froze, trying to process what you’d just said.

Then his gaze shifted, and he waved at Sarah and Pope, who were chatting nearby. He clearly chose to distract himself. It was just drunken rambling, right? No need to read into it.

He knew better than to press the issue. You were drunk. That was all there was to it.

And while you were utterly drunk, he was completely sober. He’d only had one beer, because if you were falling apart like this, someone had to stay grounded to take care of you. The trip home had to be safe. That was his job, and he’d always make sure of it.

You left the beach together, walking slowly. As the sand turned into a gravel path, the wind picked up, biting at your cheeks. JJ shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. Almost entirely leaning on him, you looked up with glassy eyes. “The stars look so beautiful, don’t they?” you asked, your voice carrying an unusual softness.

The house you’d rented wasn’t far. You had intentionally chosen a place close to the beach, for Liliana. When you arrived, JJ opened the door, turning to flash you a small smile. “Come on, let’s get inside. The wind’s going to make you sick,” he teased with a playful tone.

As you stepped inside, the happy scenes from the wedding were still vivid in your mind. Something felt different about tonight, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

JJ couldn’t believe you had made it all the way home. He was sure you’d pass out halfway through, but here you were, still standing—well, barely. He held you steady, watching as you stared at the house like you were seeing it for the first time. You smiled faintly as you spoke.

“I can’t believe how much you drank. I mean—I didn’t even know you could drink that much.”

He raised an eyebrow as you pursed your lips, clearly preparing a rebuttal. Despite your foggy brain, you still managed to respond. “I only had two shots,” you said confidently, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point. The attempt, however, was far from accurate.

JJ reached out to steady your hand, trying to refocus you. “Two shots and, what, a whole bottle of vodka?” he replied with a smirk.

You threw your head back, laughing loudly. JJ’s lips quirked into a grin as he listened to your laughter, his hand brushing against your back in a comforting way. He had watched you all night—dancing with him, going wild with Cleo, chatting with Sarah—and at every moment, a drink had been in your hand, always nearing empty.

“No!” you exclaimed, poking his chest with your finger as if trying to push him away. JJ didn’t budge an inch. Instead, when you stumbled back, he placed both hands on your waist to steady you.

“Alright, come here,” JJ said gently, his tone calm yet firm. He figured you needed to sit down before you hurt yourself. “Let’s get your shoes off before you end up face-first on the floor,” he added, a teasing lilt in his voice. He guided you back to lean against the wall.

He crouched down to untie your shoes quickly, his movements brisk but careful. It was obvious he was afraid you’d trip and hurt yourself. When he finished, he set your shoes by the door and stood up. His gaze immediately met yours. You had been watching him the entire time, tracking his every move.

You threw your arms around his shoulders and looked at him with a drunk, adoring smile. “Your eyes are blue,” you said in awe, studying his face as if it were the first time.

JJ raised his eyebrows, his lips parting slightly. He wanted to pull back and figure out if you were serious, but then he remembered how drunk you were. His lips twitched into an amused grin. “Wow. Five years of living together, and you’re just now noticing?” he teased.

You had no idea what you were doing. You felt like a fool, detached from any sense of self-control. Your thoughts were jumbled, and logic had left the building. You leaned in closer, your heavy-lidded eyes fixated on his face. “Your dimples… they’re really cute,” you whispered.

JJ took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly. His heart raced, which annoyed him more than anything. He tried to pull away from your embrace, turning his head as he gently pried your arms off his neck. “Yeah, you’re definitely drunk,” he muttered, letting your hands drop but still holding onto your wrists to keep you steady.

Suddenly, your breath hitched, and JJ’s attention snapped back to you. His expression shifted as he watched your face, now filled with a mix of worry and sadness. “I didn’t kiss Liliana,” you said in a mournful tone. “Before bed—I didn’t give her her goodnight kiss. I have to do it.”

JJ froze for a moment, trying to process your words. Liliana had been gone for hours, staying with her grandparents. She wasn’t even in the house, and there was no way you’d remember that right now. “Hey, hey. Liliana’s asleep, okay? You can’t kiss her now. You’ll wake her up,” he said soothingly, doing his best to calm you down. He didn’t dare remind you she wasn’t there; that would only lead to a meltdown.

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice soft and sad. “But I needed to kiss her…”

JJ smiled faintly, brushing his hand over your hair. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You can kiss her in the morning. Let her sleep now.”

Lifting your head, you looked at him intently, your gaze almost too focused for how drunk you were. JJ frowned slightly, sensing the shift in your demeanor. There was something behind your eyes—something determined. It made his chest tighten with unease, a feeling he couldn’t quite place.

“You’re awake,” you said suddenly, as if realizing a profound truth.

JJ raised an eyebrow, looking at you in utter confusion. He took a step back. "Huh?"

Despite his retreat, you stepped closer. JJ swallowed hard as you approached, suddenly feeling trapped—vulnerable, even. Thoughts he had no business entertaining were creeping into his head. After all, it was you. You. His friend. His roommate. Yet, he could tell by your innocent tone that you meant nothing by it, and maybe that’s what he hated the most—because those innocent words were pulling his mind into places it didn’t belong.

“You’re awake, so I can kiss you,” you said, your voice far too nonchalant for the chaos it stirred in him.

JJ quickly stepped back, holding up a hand to stop you, his face turning away as if looking at you directly might break his resolve. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said, his tone soft but firm. You were drunk, and there was no way you meant what you were saying. If you were sober, those words wouldn’t have left your lips. No matter what you said, he was getting you to bed and leaving you there to sleep it off.

“Why? If I can’t kiss Lily, can’t I kiss you? You’re awake! Besides—this is just a goodnight kiss,” you insisted with a faint smile, your tone bordering on teasing.

Those words sparked something deep within JJ, something unfamiliar and unsettling. You two had never crossed this kind of line before. He’d never seen you look at him like that. And for the first time in years, you were drunk. He knew you hadn’t touched alcohol since Liliana. He also knew how much of your life had been shaped around her absence. Tonight, though, was different—you were drunk, and it was obvious your body wasn’t handling it well.

Even though he knew your words were soaked in alcohol, JJ couldn’t stop the heat creeping up his neck. It wasn’t just what you said—it was how it made him feel.

JJ exhaled and shook his head, a defeated sort of gesture. He knew you meant nothing by it. There was no way this was anything more than innocent—it had to be. Besides, you were drunk. “Alright, fine. You can kiss me on the cheek,” he said, hoping to diffuse the moment, to get you to let this go. You were speaking without thinking, but his brain was taking your words to places he wished it wouldn’t.

JJ turned his head slightly, offering his cheek as he braced himself, standing as still as a statue. It wasn’t as if this was the first time you’d kissed each other on the cheek. It was a friendly gesture, a sign of affection. You were close—roommates raising a kid together. You spent almost every waking moment together. It was impossible not to care deeply for each other—as friends, of course.

But this? This felt different. Something about the situation was wrong. Whether it was the alcohol he’d had earlier, his own overthinking, or something entirely to do with you, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that, for the first time since you’d moved in, his mind was wandering into territory it had no business exploring. It was like he was just now realizing—or maybe finally acknowledging—that something had shifted between you two.

JJ couldn’t shake the unease in your presence tonight. He was used to being around you, practically glued to your side at all times. But this? Drunk you? That was a new one. Well, aside from those wild parties in your younger days, though even then, he’d usually seen you from a distance—usually surrounded by people. Or… with that fuck-face.

And now here you were, just the two of you, and it felt like uncharted waters. JJ had been drunk around you before, sure, but he could hold his liquor. He didn’t drink often, but when he did, it wasn’t new territory for him.

JJ glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as you took another unsteady step closer. His hands were still on you, steadying you, keeping you upright. He felt his tension rise with every passing second, his stomach twisting in knots. All he wanted was to let you kiss his cheek, put you to bed, and be done with this excruciating moment.

Then he felt it—your fingers slipping from his grip, brushing against the stubble on his freshly-shaven cheek. The light, almost hesitant touch sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t even turn his head fully to face you; he just stood there, keeping his gaze flitting between you and the floor. Your touch was nearly enough to make him close his eyes and lean into it, but the reminder of your drunken state snapped him back to reality.

As you swayed closer, your weight pressed into him. JJ quickly steadied you, hearing the soft giggle escape your lips. “Oops,” you muttered, your laughter muffled against his chest.

He hated this—hated everything about it. Hated the situation, his thoughts, and most of all, how he was feeling. For the love of God, you were drunk, and the thoughts running through his mind were nothing short of sinful. How had he sunk so low as to let his brain spiral like this over a drunk woman—his best friend?

When your lips finally pressed against his cheek, JJ exhaled shakily, his gaze dropping to the floor as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. You’d kissed him on the cheek plenty of times before, but this? This felt different. This kiss lingered too long, carrying a weight he couldn’t explain—a spark that was entirely new and unsettling.

When your lips didn’t move away, JJ gently pulled back, clearing his throat as he steadied you by the waist. As he turned his head back toward you, his eyes briefly—and accidentally—flicked to your lips. He quickly dragged his gaze back up to your eyes, cursing himself internally. He shouldn’t have looked.

Clearing his throat again, JJ felt his face flush with heat. His prayers for composure were no match for the image of your lips—now cherry red, like they’d been painted that way. It wasn’t the lipstick you’d put on earlier. That had smudged and faded hours ago. Had your lips always been this red? Or was this something he was only now noticing?

The moment he realized his eyes had drifted back to your lips, it felt like death itself. He needed to stop this. It was weird—no, terrifying. You were drunk, and he was completely sober.

JJ took a deep breath and looked at your face. It was like you were staring straight into his soul, as though trying to pull everything he was out of him with just your gaze. "Okay," he muttered, trying to compose himself. He leaned on the thought that you'd forget this by morning, that you wouldn't remember any of it. If you were sober, he wouldn't dare let his eyes linger on your lips this long. "Well, since we’ve got the goodnight kiss out of the way—"

JJ stopped mid-sentence when he felt your hand on the collar of his shirt. The proximity was already absurd—he’d only been holding onto you to keep you from falling—but this? This was nowhere near what he’d expected. Your grip tightened, and before he knew it, you pulled him closer. His eyes widened, and in the next instant, he found himself on your lips.

His mind blanked. He didn’t even have the sense to close his eyes, as if keeping them open might confirm the absurdity of this moment. It couldn’t be real—it shouldn’t be real.

The shock rendered JJ motionless. This wasn’t a passionate kiss. You weren’t moving; you just held your lips against his. Yet JJ was sure he was about to have a heart attack.

Just the touch of your lips sent his heart into a frenzy. He was either dying or dreaming, and neither seemed plausible.

But it didn’t take long for reality to sink in. He pulled away quickly, stumbling back. His hand darted out to steady you, but he didn’t dare come any closer. He had no idea what to make of what had just happened—or how he was supposed to feel about it.

God, you were drunk. So drunk.

“Stop,” he said firmly, though his voice shook slightly. He’d messed up. This wasn’t supposed to happen—none of it. And yet he swore he could still feel your lips on his. He regretted this. You wouldn’t remember it tomorrow, but he wouldn’t forget. “You’re going to regret this when I tell you in the morning.”

He wouldn’t tell you. He couldn’t. Losing your friendship wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. More than that, he couldn’t bear the thought of being cut out of your life—or Liliana’s. No, he couldn’t lose the family he’d found. Not over one night.

The words had only been meant to stop you, to get you to back off and let the moment end. He needed you to listen. Then he could put you to bed and get through the night without ever feeling your lips again, without remembering how soft they were or the feeling of having you this close.

Shit.

“I won’t,” you said stubbornly.

JJ squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand over his temple as if trying to think straight. You had no idea what you were doing. You were drunk. You’d regret kissing him. And if he ever saw that regret on your face, he didn’t know how he’d handle it.

Even though you were the one who kissed him, he still felt responsible for this. He shouldn’t have let you get this close. He should’ve gotten you to bed and let you sleep it off.

JJ took a steadying breath, searching your gaze for something—anything—that might reassure him. Maybe a glimmer of awareness, a sign you understood what was happening. But you were too far gone. You wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. And even if you could think straight, the kiss was wrong. And you saying you wouldn’t regret it? That was wrong too. “You will,” he said softly but firmly, his voice unwavering. He wrapped an arm around yours and started guiding you to your room. He just wanted to erase this moment from his memory.

Not because he didn’t like it—he couldn’t let himself think about that. Whether or not he liked it didn’t matter. You were drunk, and you’d crossed a line. Worse, he’d let you. If you were sober, you wouldn’t have kissed him or gotten this close. And that hurt more than anything else.

You went quiet as you leaned against his arm. The silence persisted as he helped you to the edge of the bed. Gently, JJ eased you down to sit. You stared at the floor, saying nothing. JJ hated the silence. This shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, low and strained. “This is wrong... We’re friends.”

JJ knelt in front of you, meeting your eyes. He knew that. You knew that. But the weight of your actions was already heavy on him. You’d kissed him, and he was already regretting it. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering how you’d feel when he told you in the morning. Would it change things between you? He wasn’t ready to lose you—or Liliana. He wanted a lifetime of memories with both of you, of raising her together and laughing through it all. He couldn’t lose that. “Yeah, we’re friends,” you murmured softly.

The silence stretched again, and then, out of nowhere, your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t stop the tears from spilling, your quiet sobs breaking the stillness. JJ’s eyes widened in shock. Seeing you cry tore at something inside him. He didn’t even know why you were crying. Maybe a piece of your clarity had returned. He didn’t want that—not now.

Hesitating for only a moment, JJ pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You didn’t answer. JJ tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his skin as you shifted. When your nose brushed against his, JJ inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. His hands slid down your back, settling at your waist. You still didn’t speak, but your movements spoke volumes. JJ exhaled shakily, like he’d just lost a battle with himself. “You need to stop…” he whispered.

Suddenly, you lifted your head, and the space between you seemed to vanish. JJ’s breath hitched. He wanted this to stop—he needed it to. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if it didn’t. He’d never thought of you this way, never imagined having your lips on his. But now that it had happened, everything felt… right.

Except it wasn’t.

You were drunk, and this was so, so wrong.

But when your lips touched his again, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

When JJ felt your noses brush again, he let out a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes and meet yours. He wasn’t even sure who had started it this time. But when your lips met again, JJ felt... found. Like he’d discovered something he hadn’t known he was searching for. In that moment, he pushed everything else aside—all the rules, all the lines he wasn’t supposed to cross—and tightened his arms around your waist. Instead of pulling back, he gave in, even if just for a moment.

As your lips moved together in perfect rhythm, JJ could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. If he’d known it would feel this right, he wouldn’t have waited until now to kiss you. Hell, he’d have done it ages ago. When your hands gripped his collar and tugged him closer, JJ didn’t resist. Taking advantage of the way you shifted back on the bed, he let you guide him, following your lead as his hand instinctively slid to your neck.

The kiss broke momentarily as you both gasped for air, but before either of you could even think, your lips found each other again. JJ forgot everything—every rule, every fear, every reason this wasn’t supposed to happen. The only thing that mattered was you. Just you.

When your fingers tangled in his hair, JJ realized he was completely at your mercy. You were insatiable, like you couldn’t get enough of him. And when your kisses turned more fervent, more desperate, he understood the shift. This wasn’t a sweet, affectionate kiss anymore. This was raw, unrestrained desire. When a soft, breathy moan escaped your lips, JJ froze.

Self-loathing hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t believe he’d let it happen again. With a jolt of awareness, he pulled back abruptly, putting distance between the two of you. As he took in the scene—the two of you on the bed, him hovering over you—he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let himself take advantage of you like this.

“You’re drunk,” JJ said, his voice unsteady, his breath uneven. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” His hands trembled as he held himself back. Deep down, he wished you weren’t drunk. He wished this could be real.

Your gaze met his, and tears brimmed in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice cracking. But JJ knew he was the one who should be apologizing. Tomorrow morning—if he ever found the courage to bring this up—it would be on him. He was the one who was sober. He was the one who should’ve known better. He shouldn’t have let you pull him in, shouldn’t have let himself fall for it.

JJ took a deep breath and carefully helped you lie back on the bed. He brushed your hair back gently, his chest heavy with regret. Not regret for kissing you, but for doing it when you were drunk. For crossing a line when you wouldn’t even remember it. “Get some sleep, okay?” he said softly, trying to push the guilt from his tone.

As he started to pull away and leave the room, you caught his hand. “Don’t go,” you whispered.

JJ swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He shook his head slowly, refusing to look at you. “I can’t,” he said quietly. Staying would only make it worse—make him hate himself even more. But then he looked at you, and his resolve crumbled. He cursed himself silently. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was.

“Please,” you said, your voice barely audible. JJ’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenching. The second he walked out of that room, he knew he’d be sick. He couldn’t believe he’d let things go this far, couldn’t believe he’d put you in this position. You were his friend, and you wouldn’t remember any of this. Not a single moment.

God, he wished you were sober. If you woke up and remembered everything—if you looked at him with disgust—he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He couldn’t.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. He was terrified—terrified of you waking up and hating him. “Close your eyes,” he murmured without thinking. He couldn’t take the way you were looking at him. That look only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

You did as he asked, your eyes fluttering shut. JJ let out a long, heavy sigh and sat down beside you. He leaned his head back, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself under his breath, “Why do you make me hate myself like this...”

It was close to 3 a.m., and you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You’d been awake for hours, but the dull ache in your head and the strange fog clouding your mind refused to lift. Some parts of last night were blurry—there were flashes of laughter, dancing, the wedding… but the details were frustratingly out of reach.

You sat curled up on the corner of the couch, sipping your coffee slowly, the warmth doing little to ease your unease. Across the room, JJ was in the kitchen, fiddling with the kettle as if it was the most intricate puzzle in the world. Normally, you were used to his easygoing, morning-person energy, but this wasn’t it. His movements were precise, almost tense, and his face carried a weird stiffness. You couldn’t make sense of it.

“My head hurts,” you finally said, breaking the suffocating silence. You were tired of his strange behavior.

JJ glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. With a faint, almost forced smile, he said, “Not surprised.” But his tone betrayed something deeper, something unsaid that hung in the air.

“Not surprised?” you asked, frowning. “You’re acting weird, JJ.”

He shrugged, putting the kettle back down and leaning against the counter. His fingers raked through his hair, a telltale sign that something was bothering him. Still, he avoided your eyes. “I’m just… tired. You know, long night and all.”

But you knew it wasn’t just exhaustion. You could feel it. “Did something happen?” you asked, studying his face carefully, hoping to find a clue.

“No,” he said too quickly, his voice sharp before softening a beat later. “No, really. Just… the usual.”

His vague response only unsettled you further, but you decided not to press him. Not right now. Your headache and the foggy haze in your mind were draining enough without getting into a confrontation.

When you glanced at the clock and noticed how late it had gotten, you suddenly straightened. “I need to pick up Liliana,” you said abruptly.

JJ hesitated, his head turning to look at you like he was searching for something in your expression. “Alright,” he said cautiously. “Are you good to drive?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grabbing your bag and standing up. “She’s probably missing us by now. I should get going.”

JJ didn’t respond right away, just nodded slowly. His gaze stayed on you, heavy with something unspoken. It was like he wanted to stop you, to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

As you headed to the door and bent down to put on your shoes, you could still feel his eyes on you. It was unnerving. Pausing for a moment, you glanced back at him. “We’ll talk later,” you said, keeping your tone light but purposeful.

JJ gave another nod. “Yeah. We’ll talk.” But his words carried a weight far greater than they should have.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of your car, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling in your gut. JJ’s behavior, your pounding headache, and the scattered, blurry memories from the night before were all swirling together, leaving an uneasy knot in your stomach.

As you started the car and pulled onto the road, your phone lit up on the passenger seat. The screen showed Sarah’s name flashing as she called. Reaching over, you grabbed the phone, the knot in your stomach tightening as you answered.

Rafe hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a very long time. When he left Sarah’s house days ago, his steps were slow and heavy. Inside, a storm was raging. His thoughts collided, each crashing harder than the last. Talking to Sarah had been like a slap in the face with the truth he’d tried so hard to avoid. Hearing the things he didn’t want to hear—it had turned his whole world upside down.

Once, he’d believed the life he was living was normal. Or maybe he’d just convinced himself of that. The life he’d shaped with his own choices, every step calculated to reach his goals... He had sacrificed everything for them. Absolutely everything.

And now, there was an emptiness inside him. He’d achieved the goals he’d fought for with relentless ambition and passion, but what had they given him in return? Monotony. A quiet restlessness. His soul was weighed down with a sense of suffocation he couldn’t even admit to himself.

The moment he saw you and Liliana, everything changed. That’s when it all hit him. The scene played over and over in his mind—your icy gaze, Liliana’s delicate features that mirrored his own... her tiny hands, her green dress... Those images were burned into his memory. No matter what he did, he couldn’t erase them.

He couldn’t sleep peacefully anymore. The moment he closed his eyes, he found himself lost in a vivid dream. He was holding you in his arms, playing games in the garden with Liliana. In those dreams, he clung to the illusion of a life he might have had, a life as a father with his own family. But every morning, he woke to the harsh truth. You weren’t his. Liliana wasn’t his. That life wasn’t his.

Even throwing himself into work hadn’t helped. His mind wandered constantly, his thoughts overpowering him. There seemed to be no escape. For days, he’d stopped working entirely. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he allowed himself to just stop. To think. To try to figure out what was right.

But he never expected to see you again. For four years, there had been nothing from you. He’d lost count of how many times he’d tried to find out where you or your family were. But you’d completely cut him off. You’d disappeared from his world.

And now, after seeing you again, he didn’t know what to do. Should he fight to bring you back into his life, or was he meant to keep paying for the mistakes of his past?

Every night, he dreamed. He dreamed of making you and Liliana part of his world, even though he knew it was impossible. In those dreams, Liliana’s laughter echoed, and you smiled at him. But that smile had been lost to him in the real world long ago.

Calling Sarah had been a desperate act. He just needed to hear something—anything that could help. Again and again, he’d been met with Sarah’s irritated tone on the other end of the line. “What do you want now?” she’d asked, her exasperation unmistakable.

And Rafe’s answer was always the same: “Hey... I just... I need a favor.”

Rafe had realized his life was an illusion. The structure he thought he wanted was nothing but a trap. Seeing you had made that painfully clear. The dream of a life he might have had—holding you in his arms, hearing his daughter’s laughter, playing with her—had carved itself into his mind. But could those dreams ever become reality? Or had the wreckage of the past already swept everything away?

These questions had no answers, but Rafe had made a decision. For the first time, he felt truly lost and defenseless. The only promise he made to himself was not to repeat his mistakes. Or at least, this time, he would try.

To start, he knew he needed help. Calling Sarah, asking for her help—it meant swallowing his pride, but there was no other choice. “I just need to know where she is, Sarah,” he’d pleaded over the phone, his desperation seeping into every word.

Sarah’s reply had been sharp and definitive. “Cut the crap, Rafe. I’m not giving you her address. And if you bother her one more time, I swear you’ll ruin what’s left of the relationship between us too.”

The call ended. It hit him like a cold slap, but Rafe didn’t give up. He called again. Sent messages. Pushed Sarah to the edge of her patience. Eventually, he got a sliver of information. She mentioned a gas station stop. It was his only chance. Today.

He didn’t hesitate. He jumped into his car and sped off, his mind a whirlwind. His heart pounded, his hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

When he arrived at the gas station, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes searched for you, and finally, there you were. Through the store window, he saw you picking something off the shelf. Your eyes narrowed slightly, as if lost in thought.

For a moment, all he could do was watch. His feet felt rooted to the ground. But then he took a deep breath and forced himself forward, one heavy step at a time, toward the door. His heart raced faster with every step, his mind repeating, Is this the right thing? But he had no choice. He needed to see you. He needed to talk to you.

When he opened the door, the bell chimed softly. You turned your head, your eyes meeting his. In that instant, the world seemed to stop. Your gaze held a mix of surprise and anger, but no matter what, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets, hesitating as he walked toward you. His shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes unsure. He stopped a few steps away, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Hey,” he said finally, his voice trembling just enough to betray him.

He watched as your eyes scanned him, waiting for a response. The silence between you felt heavy.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone flat, devoid of any warmth. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pressed into a thin line. You didn’t take your eyes off him.

Rafe had expected anger, maybe even an outburst. But the coldness in your voice—it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It hit him somewhere deep, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

Rafe cleared his throat and briefly lowered his gaze to the floor. He’d imagined seeing you before he arrived but hadn’t thought about what he’d actually say. He tried to slip his hands into his pockets but stopped himself. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. "I—I just wanted to say hi."

Your face fell into an impassive mask. The disdain for him was clear, and Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe under the weight of it. "Alright. Hi."

Rafe forced a smile as he looked at you, his expression nervous but determined. "Hi." The silence between you stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Desperate to shift the mood, Rafe mumbled, "You look really beautiful, by the way."

Your face immediately hardened, and your eyes flashed with anger, as if you couldn’t believe what he had just said. The hiss that escaped your lips made Rafe regret his words instantly. He’d crossed the line. "Cut the nonsense, Rafe. Can you leave, please?"

Rafe tensed but took a step back. His hands remained buried in his pockets, and he dropped his head slightly, cursing himself. He’d had one chance, and he’d ruined it—like he always did. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled before lowering his hand again. "I—I’m sorry. Really."

He had barely turned to leave when your voice stopped him cold.

"For what?"

Rafe froze, his shoulders stiffening. Slowly, he turned back, confusion etched across his face. He understood the question, but was this really the time for this conversation? Of course, he expected you to hate him. He just hadn’t thought he’d get under your skin so quickly. "What?"

"For what are you apologizing?" you repeated, your voice shaking but firm. Despite being in a public place, you struggled to keep it down, your anger barely restrained. "Did you honestly think you could just show up and casually talk to me? Like this is some kind of fucking joke?"

Rafe raised his hands in a helpless gesture. Of course, you were right. What had he been thinking? "No. I—I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Your brows knitted together as you crossed your arms, stepping closer to him. Rafe felt his entire body tense. "That’s none of your business. Why do you even care if I’m okay? You didn’t care five years ago."

Rafe dropped his head. No matter what you said, you would always be right. He didn’t even have the words to defend himself. "I know."

"You know?" Your voice climbed, sharp and incredulous, as you jabbed a finger toward him. "Fuck off, Rafe!"

His breathing quickened, but he didn’t back away. This wasn’t how he imagined this would go, but—what did he expect? That you’d run into his arms and forgive everything he’d done? He had deluded himself into thinking you were still the person he used to know. "Look, I’m trying—"

"I don’t want to hear it!" You raised a hand to cut him off, your voice louder than you intended.

Rafe took a step closer. "I swear—"

"I don’t want to hear it!" you yelled, your voice trembling but resolute. Rafe exhaled deeply, defeated. He hated this. Hated himself. He’d never be anything but a source of shame in your eyes.

Rafe fell silent, guilt etched into every line of his face. He ran a hand through his hair, then took a step back. The quiet between you became unbearable. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as the words forced their way out. "It’s over. It’s been over for years. That’s it. You didn’t want—"

"Don’t say it," Rafe interrupted, his voice low but thick with emotion. Every word was weighted with regret.

"You said, ‘Get rid of it!’ You didn’t want it! That’s why it ended," you snapped, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t back down, though. Rafe hated seeing you like this, hated knowing he was the reason for it.

Rafe spread his hands helplessly, unsure of what to do. If you had told him back then, he would’ve accepted it with joy. But back then, he’d been a fool—a selfish, spineless coward desperate for his father’s approval. "I wasn’t thinking straight!"

"Don’t give me that shit, Rafe." A bitter laugh escaped your lips, almost like you were exhaling your pain. You turned your gaze away, shaking your head.

"I wasn’t in a good place," he whispered. But even he knew that no excuse could erase what he’d done. He wasn’t trying to absolve himself—he couldn’t. He was just…lost.

Your laughter cut through him, sharp and bitter. "Right. Because your mistakes were all about your ‘bad mental state.’ Not because you’re just a shitty person! Enough, Rafe! This conversation is pointless. You’ve got a new life—without me. And we’ve got ours—without you. Let it go."

You gave him one last look, lowering the finger you’d been pointing at him. Turning on your heel, you took a step to leave.

Panic flared in Rafe’s chest. He couldn’t let it end like this. He’d made every mistake imaginable, but he couldn’t bear to add another one to the pile. He had to try. And if it didn’t work—well, at least he tried.

"I want to meet her."

You stopped in your tracks. The step you were about to take hung in the air before slowly retreating. You turned to him, eyes blazing with fury.

"Liliana—"

"Don’t you dare!" you shouted, pointing a trembling finger at him as you stormed toward him. Rafe stayed rooted in place, letting your fury wash over him. Of course, you were angry. You had every right to be. He just wished—wished he could turn back time and fix everything. "How dare you? Do you think it’s that simple?!"

Rafe recoiled slightly, carefully choosing his words. He didn’t want to hurt you more than he already had—or dig himself into an even deeper hole. "I don’t mean to say the wrong thing."

"I don’t care what you mean!" you snapped, your voice cutting through him like a knife. He watched as your expression shifted, protective and fierce. "You’re not meeting her!"

"Don’t make me use force," Rafe said, his voice trembling but firm. He regretted it instantly. He shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t true. He’d never do that. Never. It was a fleeting moment—an impulsive lapse. He needed to think before speaking. Shit.

You flinched. Then, with a bitter laugh, you stepped closer and shoved him in the chest. Rafe let you. He shouldn’t have spoken like an idiot. He should’ve stayed calm.

“What are you going to do? Sue me? Go ahead! Does your father even know you have a kid? Everything you’ve built—your stupid little empire—it’ll all crumble! Are you really going to do it? Because you won’t. You’re a coward, and you always have been.”

Rafe’s eyes hardened. “I will,” he said, his tone low but sharp with determination. He could. He had the power. Lawyers, connections—it was all on his side. But he couldn’t do it to you.

You froze, staring at him in shock.

Rafe stepped closer, taking a deep breath and holding out his hands as if trying to calm the storm. He didn’t want this to escalate, and he knew you didn’t want it either. "But I won’t do that. That’s not the point. I want to be in Liliana’s life. I’m going to tell my father.”

You watched his brows furrow as he exhaled. You were right—if he wanted to be a father, his family needed to know. And if you allowed it, they had a right to be informed. But even if you didn’t allow it, he’d still tell them. They wouldn’t take it well. He couldn’t predict what would happen, but he was done hiding. He was done being a coward.

“What?” you asked, disbelief and frustration tightening your voice.

“I’m going to tell them. No matter what.” He took a deep breath, his voice softening. It was almost as if the confident man standing before everyone else had deflated before you. He could barely hold your gaze. He knew he didn’t deserve you.

“You’re lying,” you said, stepping back. Your voice carried not just doubt but a deep-rooted unwillingness to believe him. You didn’t want to.

“I swear I’m not.” Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a certainty that startled you. He would do it. In fact, he should have done it from the beginning, back when you told him you were pregnant. He was already too late.

You didn’t want to believe him. But the resolve in his eyes—he’d never looked more sincere.

Rafe drew in a deep breath and spoke, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I want them to know. Everything. I—” His voice cracked, but he pressed on. “I’m not making any more mistakes. I can’t afford to.”

Your brows knit together, your face hardening. You took a long, deliberate breath, though it was clear you were barely keeping your emotions in check. “Rafe, if this backfires on us—I don’t want it. I don’t want Liliana or me dragged into this mess.”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head firmly. “It won’t. I promise.” He wouldn’t let it. Not ever.

Your voice rose, insistent. “Rafe—”

He cut you off, stepping closer. “No. I won’t let that happen. I’m not that stupid, irresponsible kid you left behind anymore. That person...he’s gone. He’s gone for good.”

You let out a sharp breath, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “I don’t trust you. I just—can’t.”

The guilt etched deep into Rafe’s face made him drop his gaze. He nodded silently, as if accepting it. He hated himself for this. If one of his friends had done what he had, Rafe would’ve ripped them apart for their irresponsibility, for being such a terrible person. And he knew—that’s exactly what he was. A terrible person.

“I know. It’s going to take everything to prove myself to you, and I get that. But…”

You squinted at him, your eyes sharp and wary. “Liliana thinks her dad’s in space,” you said flatly, your voice dripping with sarcastic calm.

Rafe blinked in surprise. His eyebrows shot up, lips parting as the faintest spark of humor lit his expression. His heart raced at the absurdity of it. “What?”

“Yes,” you said, shrugging. “I told her her dad’s an astronaut. He’s so far away he can’t come see her. If you step into her life, there’s no stepping out again. If you think for one second you can’t handle this, don’t even bother starting.”

Your voice was firm, your gaze sharp as steel. “And—I need time to think.”

Rafe nodded but never took his eyes off you. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave her again. No matter what, I won’t lose Liliana. I swear it.”

For a moment, silence hung between you. His seriousness, his unyielding resolve—it threw you off balance. You studied him with narrowed eyes, his words echoing in your mind. They made you uneasy. You hated feeling this way.

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you said at last, your voice tempered, the anger giving way to a measured determination.

Rafe exhaled deeply, relief softening his expression. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quiet.

You lifted your chin, your eyes cold as ever. “I’m not doing this for you.”

This wasn’t a decision you could make on your own. It never had been, and it never could be.

When you returned home with Liliana, you had every intention of explaining everything to JJ. But as soon as you walked through the door, Liliana insisted on playing a game with JJ. Knowing you couldn’t discuss something this heavy in her presence, you simply went along with it. But JJ was no fool. He had picked up on something being off.

He’d been tense since you’d seen him that morning. While playing with Liliana, he would steal glances at you, checking on you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle.

You had no idea what was bothering him, but that nagging weight in your chest wouldn’t go away. You wanted to just tell him and be done with it. You couldn’t handle this alone—especially not when you and JJ shared a home and were raising a child together.

This wasn’t just your decision to make. No, it would affect JJ too. Practically speaking, the two of you were living together. Sure, JJ had his own place, but he barely used it. He’d take Liliana to school sometimes, decide what she’d eat, and even join you for her daycare events.

Whatever you did for Liliana, JJ did as well. He cared for her as much as you did. At night, he’d kiss her goodnight just as you would. The choice ahead of you wouldn’t just impact your life or Liliana’s—it would alter JJ’s too.

You had to talk to him. You needed to unload this unease and find some relief.

When Liliana and JJ finished playing, your eyes immediately sought his. He was already looking at you. When you held his gaze for a second too long, JJ quickly turned back to Liliana. “Go on, give Mommy a kiss, then you can go upstairs and play with your dolls.” He planted a kiss on her hair and stood up.

Your attention shifted to Liliana as she waddled over to you. “Want some coffee?” JJ asked just as Liliana climbed onto the couch and wrapped her tiny arms around your neck.

“Yes, please,” you replied as her kisses landed on your cheeks. Smiling, you kissed her back. “Now I’m going to play with my dolls. I love you, Mommy,” she chirped, pulling away.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” you said, watching as she clambered down and carefully made her way upstairs. Your eyes lingered on her until she disappeared at the top of the stairs.

JJ headed to the kitchen, and you felt the weight of your discomfort pressing down on you. You knew he’d bring you coffee, just like always, but this time, sitting in silence and ignoring the elephant in the room wasn’t an option. You had to talk. The life you shared, the responsibilities you both carried—everything had been thrown off balance by Rafe’s unexpected move. And you needed to know where JJ stood on all of it.

When JJ returned with two cups of coffee, the exhaustion etched on his face hit you immediately. He set your cup in front of you and sank into the opposite chair, staring down at his coffee in silence. You recognized this—the way JJ withdrew when something weighed heavily on him. You’d seen it many times before.

“JJ,” you said, not bothering to hide the determination in your voice. He hesitated for a moment before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. The calm you were used to seeing in his eyes had been replaced by something much harder to read.

“Something happened,” you said, noticing the way his brows instantly furrowed.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice steady but tinged with something fragile. “I’ve been waiting for you to say it. Go ahead.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within you. “Rafe,” you said, hoping that single word would convey everything.

JJ’s expression hardened instantly. He straightened in his seat, his protective instincts kicking in. “What happened?”

Your hands tightened around your coffee cup as you steadied yourself. “He… he wants to be in Liliana’s life,” you said, the words feeling heavy as they left your mouth. “He told me as much. And it doesn’t feel like something I can decide on my own. It’s not just my decision to make.” You trailed off, watching JJ’s face shift—from shock to anger and finally to a resigned sort of disbelief.

JJ’s gaze dropped to the floor. His hands remained on the cup, his fingers whitening with the grip, but his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. You wanted so badly to read his thoughts, but he gave nothing away. He just sat there, silent. And that silence unnerved you more than any outburst ever could.

It was driving you mad. You waited for him to speak—to say yes, no, anything. When it came to Liliana, your emotions were always raw, and thinking clearly was difficult. You needed JJ to ground you. “Say something,” you whispered, your voice betraying the helplessness you felt.

“Are you meeting him?” JJ finally asked, his voice barely audible. The room felt eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed down on your chest. You noticed his knuckles whitening further as he clutched his cup, his gaze still glued to the floor.

You shook your head quickly. “No. He came to me. I didn’t go to him. I didn’t call him—he found me. I would never willingly see him.” You paused, your voice trembling. “He… he saw us a few days ago. And today, when I went to pick up Liliana, he was at the gas station.” You swallowed hard, bracing for JJ’s reaction. You wanted him to lash out—to yell, to be angry at someone—but he didn’t. He just sat there.

“You’re her mother,” he said at last, his words cutting like a blade. His tone wasn’t comforting—it was almost dismissive. You’d hoped for guidance, for support, but his response left you feeling more alone.

“JJ—” you began, but he cut you off sharply. His gaze never lifted as he leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. His reactions were impossible to decipher.

“This is your choice.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you countered, your heart pounding as you leaned forward, trying to draw his attention. You needed him to look at you, to see you, but he remained where he was, unmoving.

“Alright, suit yourself.” JJ’s voice was flat, his tone monoton once again. You could feel your frustration rising, but you knew it stemmed from sadness.

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. You couldn’t make this decision alone.

“No, this is your choice.” JJ took a sip from his coffee. You had no idea how to change his mind. He kept throwing out these ridiculous comments and expected you to agree. And—it wasn’t like him at all. He spoke as if—as if he’d never been part of Liliana’s life. As if he hadn’t been there raising her alongside you.

“JJ—”

“Maybe you should move in together. You, Liliana, and Rafe. Picture-perfect family, what do you think?” His lips curled into a sarcastic smirk, and your jaw dropped. That bitter smile on his face made you feel utterly defeated. Did he even realize how ridiculous he sounded? These weren’t your words at all.

“Maybe you’ll rekindle your great love, hmm? Have another kid—” You couldn’t take it anymore. Did he not know you at all? Hadn’t he seen everything you’d been through? How could he talk like this?

Besides—you had come to him for advice. To figure out what to do as a team. It’s not like you had run to JJ impulsively to say yes to Rafe’s offer. You hadn’t even accepted it!

“You know I didn’t say that!” you yelled, unable to hold back your anger any longer. The realization that Liliana was upstairs hit you hard, and you closed your eyes tightly, taking a shaky breath to calm yourself before opening them again.

“I came to you for advice,” you said, the words catching in your throat. “To tell you this isn’t a decision I can make alone. And you’re—you’re saying all this to me?” The disappointment was written all over your face. You wanted to talk this through together, not deal with it on your own.

JJ gave a hollow chuckle as he stood up. When he slammed his coffee mug onto the table, you flinched. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing. “Maybe you’ll leave Asheville, move back to the Outer Banks. Start over with Rafe.” He turned his back on you, one hand resting on his hip while the other rubbed his temple. A frustrated sigh escaped him.

His words hit you like a slap. You stood abruptly. “You’re being cruel,” you said, your voice shaking. You cursed yourself as you felt your lips begin to tremble. You hated crying.

JJ’s face hardened. The anger seemed to drain from him, replaced by that same flat tone. “It’s not my place to decide. You’re her parent.”

“Me? Just me? So you weren’t her parent when you changed her diapers, stayed up with her when she cried at night, or showed up for her daycare events? Do you not see that Liliana views you as a father figure in her life?” Your voice cracked, as shattered as your emotions. You couldn’t stand how foolish he was being—or how he was acting. He wasn’t listening to you. “Does being a family only count if there’s blood involved?”

JJ paused for a moment, then sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Rafe’s her father. If he wants to be part of her life, you should let him.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Stop talking like that!” you cried, desperation creeping into your tone.

JJ turned to you sharply, frustration etched into his features. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. “Didn’t you ask for my opinion? I just gave it to you. But know this—if he’s in her life, he’ll be in yours too. Whether you like it or not.”

That final sentence struck a nerve, and the storm inside you intensified. Before you could respond, JJ cut you off again. “You’ll fall for him again—” His smile was bitter, filled with pain.

You couldn’t take another second of this. “Do you think I forgot what he did to me?!” you shouted, interrupting him. “He left me when I was three months pregnant! Do you think I’m stupid enough to forgive that?!”

“I didn’t say that,” JJ muttered, his voice lower, but his words cut like a blade. “But you won’t be able to control your feelings.”

“You have no idea how I feel!” you snapped, anger and heartbreak tangled together in your voice. When you noticed a faint smirk tugging at JJ’s lips, your brows furrowed.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, his tone strangely hollow. He nodded as if conceding your point, his tongue running over his teeth. “I really don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, shaken by how cold and distant he had become. His words were so cryptic, so frustratingly vague, it felt like he was mocking you.

“I don’t know. What do I mean?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shook his head. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew something you didn’t.

It felt like you were trapped in an endless loop. When JJ began gathering his things from the table, your heart clenched. Despite everything, you didn’t want him to leave. No matter what he said—you couldn’t bear for him to turn his back on you. This couldn’t be happening.

As your anger faded into pure worry, you watched him with rising panic. You took a step forward, but he had already packed up. No. This couldn’t be it. You couldn’t let Rafe ruin your life all over again. “Where—JJ, wait. Please.”

JJ headed for the door, and you quickly followed, grabbing his arm. When he turned to face you, your eyes brimmed with tears. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want this to end in anger and heartbreak. “Please—please, don’t go. Don’t.”

“I need some air,” he said, his voice soft but firm. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, his expression softened.

“I’ll stop talking, I swear—” you rushed out, desperate to keep him from leaving. You were ready to beg if it came to that. This wasn’t worth losing him over, not something so small. It didn’t have to escalate like this.

“I’ll come back,” he said. His tone was steady, reassuring. But you didn’t want him to go, not even for a moment. Even if it meant sitting in silence together, you needed him to stay. You weren’t used to him walking away.

“I really will stop—” you started again, your voice trembling. Your hands briefly reached for his arm before falling back to your sides, unsure of what to do.

JJ looked away, threading his fingers through his hair in frustration. His fingers raked through his blond strands, his face tense and brooding. His brows were furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw tightened slightly. When he finally turned back to you, his gaze was a mixture of emotions—no anger, but a deep, aching disappointment.

“I don’t want you to stop talking,” he said, his voice lower than usual, but it carried a quiet intensity. “If I stay, we’ll just hurt each other more.” He hesitated, drawing in a long, controlled breath before stepping back further. “I just need some space to calm down. I’ll come back.”

“I’m sorry—” you murmured, your hand instinctively reaching out to him again before stopping mid-air. You were scared to touch him, scared it might push him further away.

“Don’t.” JJ stepped back another pace, lifting his hand slightly as if to hold you at bay. “I’m not mad at you.” His gaze met yours, and beneath the resolve in his eyes, you could see how fragile he felt, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Yes, you are. You’re mad at me. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper.

JJ froze for a moment, exhaling deeply as he looked away. His hands fell to his sides, and he shook his head slowly, as if wrestling with something. “Why shouldn’t you have brought it up?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges. When his eyes met yours again, there was pain in them, not directed at you but at himself. “This has always been your choice. I only said what I did because I care about you. I’m not angry at you—how could I be? How could I ever be angry at you?”

He paused, his gaze drifting somewhere distant. His fingers fidgeted unconsciously near the pocket of his jeans, and his lips pressed into a thin line before parting again. “I’m angry at myself,” he admitted quietly, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him.

His words stopped you in your tracks. Looking at his face, you realized there was something he wasn’t saying, something he was holding back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Asking might shatter the fragile tension that still tethered you together.

JJ stood motionless for a long moment, then turned and walked toward the door. He stopped just before opening it, resting his hand on the frame. His fingertips gripped the edge so tightly they turned white. Without looking back, he stepped out. The door closed with a soft but final thud, the sound echoing through the room, leaving the air heavier than before.

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covenofagatha · 20 hours ago

Note

Any chance you'd write Agatha x reader fic where Agatha is a teacher/professor but reader looks up to her & also has a crush & Agatha notices it. Maybe some slight manipulation, mommy issues etc etc 😂

I'm so sorry this took so long to write 😅 this one's from November and I apologize to everyone else who submitted requests months ago, I promise I am working on them and I will get to them sooner or later

Shoutout to the two teachers who I would do anything for and may have been used as some inspiration for this one (also I have no clue how this one got so long and I really hope it's good)

The power she holds

You're Agatha's TA for her History of Witchcraft class and you're more than happy to help with whatever she needs

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: manipulative Agatha, mommy issues, massive praise kink, fingering, slight mommy kink, oral (barely)

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna

“Good morning,” you say with a knock on the open door to Professor Harkness’s office. She glances up from her seat at the desk and gives you the hint of a polite smile, beckoning you in with a hand.

You plop down at the desk in the back of the room, the one closest to hers, and your backpack hits the ground with a thud.

“You’re here early,” she muses, typing something on her computer without looking at you.

But your cheeks still grow hot. She hasn’t said anything about your punctuality so far, even though you always try to get to her class at least ten minutes before it starts. Not because you want to impress her or get her to notice you or anything. You’re just being a good Teacher’s Assistant.

Agatha Harkness was your teacher last semester in History of Witchcraft, and when she sent out applications for TA’s for the spring, you had jumped at the chance. You had gotten one of the highest grades in her class and often attended her office hours, so you had gotten pretty close to her, as far as teacher-student relationships go.

You would never tell her this, but you strived for her approval. You didn’t try half as hard in your other classes, partly because they were easy, but there was also something about getting validation from her that made it all worth it.

Your relationship with your mother is tense, with you never feeling like you were good enough for her, so you know where it comes from. It’s happened before, with older female teachers, where you would neglect everything else just for a chance for them to tell you that they were proud of you.

But it’s a little different with Agatha, because of how attractive she is. She’s also incredibly smart, and when she looks at you, it’s like she really sees you, and that makes you warm inside.

You know that she likes you, at least more than the average student, but you were still surprised when she had picked you to be her TA.

It’s only a week into the semester and she hasn’t had you do anything yet. Her class is held on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and both Monday and Wednesday this week, you’ve just been sitting next to her desk while she lectures.

You’re thankful that she’s not bogging you down with work, you already have enough of it in your other classes, but you wish she’d give you something to do so you could feel like you’re being useful. Except you know there isn’t really anything she needs help with yet, with it being the start of a new class and the students haven’t had any real assignments for you to help with. Seems like you’ll just have to wait.

She mutters something to herself while moving to flip through papers on her desk and you frown. “Is there anything you need help with?” You ask and she turns to face you finally, but in the process, knocks over her mug of coffee. It spills all over the floor and she jumps up to avoid getting wet.

“Fuck,” she curses under her breath just as the door opens and students start to come in. She looks at the mess on the floor and then up at you, and you spring into motion.

You practically run down the hallway to the bathroom, pump the lever on the paper towel holder about ten times, and rip the bundle off, ignoring the confused looks from the other girls washing their hands. You sprint back and drop to your knees to soak up the coffee.

“Who knew I could get my assistant to do other things than just help me grade papers?” Agatha asks rhetorically, voice light and teasing, but you blush.

After you clean the floor and stand back up, you shake your hair out of your face and nod to her now-empty mug. “Do you want me to get you some more coffee?”

Agatha’s eyes light up and she holds out the cup for you to take. You ignore the electricity that flares up under your skin when your fingers brush against hers. “Black with two sugars,” she says and you nod.

She smirks before straightening up and walking to the front of the classroom to begin her lecture while you throw the wet paper towels away in the trash and go down to the student union to the coffee machine.

You tap your foot impatiently while the maker whirrs to life and starts to spit coffee into the mug. Your nose wrinkles; you’ve never been a big coffee drinker, and even the smell gets to you sometimes.

Finally, the cup is full and you add in two sugars, stirring delicately, and then carefully walking back to Agatha’s classroom. She’s talking about the Valais Witch Trials in Switzerland, the first systematic European Witch Hunt. You make sure the door closes quietly behind you before walking over to place it on the lectern where she’s standing.

She pauses to watch you before leaning in close and whispering, “Thanks, hon. Appreciate it,” into your ear and you can feel your heart start to pound. Can she see how flustered you get? It’s just a simple thing, barely any praise at all, and yet – you suddenly have lost the ability to think.

“Of course,” you stammer out quickly and then rush to the back of the classroom, back to your desk, where you can breathe without the heat of her body radiating against yours.

What is wrong with you? Agatha was just being polite, nothing more than that. You’ve seriously got to get your mommy issues under control.

You pull out your laptop and try to work on stuff for other classes, but you keep getting drawn into Agatha’s lecture. It’s fascinating, the way she talks about historical events, the way she waves her hands around in the air.

It’s something you didn’t notice last semester while you were in her class, definitely too busy scrambling to write everything that she said down, but now you can appreciate how much she talks with her hands. Her fingers wave around, curling and flexing, adding extra emphasis to what she’s saying, and for some reason, you can’t look away.

You’re so entranced by her that you’ve completely zoned out, not even comprehending a word of what she’s saying. And then, for some reason, your eyes flick up to meet hers, and you find – much to your surprise – that she’s already looking at you.

She winks so fast you think you might’ve imagined it. But what you’re not imagining is the rush of heat that floods through your body. You shift in your seat. It’s possible that your appreciation for the professor has grown into more of a crush.

The class period ends sooner than you think it should, but you haven’t noticed how much time has passed because of how intently you’ve been watching Agatha. You start to slowly pack up your things so that you won’t have to leave before she comes back to her desk.

And sure enough, you’re just zipping up your backpack when she drops into her chair and heaves a big sigh.

“You okay?” You ask, repressing a giggle at her theatrics.

She spins to face you. “Half of those kids are about to turn in god-awful rough drafts for us to look at next week. We’re going to have our work cut out for us, sweetheart.” The pet name turns you to putty and you have to make a conscious effort to regain your thoughts.

“Well, I’m happy to help in any way you need,” you say before you can think of the innuendo that might be implied, and then inwardly curse. Will she think you’re offering more than what’s professional?

Agatha just smiles pleasantly and you relax. Of course she wouldn’t. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good weekend, honey. I’ll see you on Monday.”

You nod in agreement, a bit sad that she’s dismissing you so quickly, but you don’t want to overstay so you leave and go back to your dorm.

Your thoughts hardly stray from her Saturday and Sunday.

When the week starts back up again, you’re ten minutes early to her class. She hums a greeting when you open the door but doesn’t look up after, even when you sit next to her.

“Good weekend?” You ask, trying to make small talk.

She shrugs. “Just lesson-planning. You?”

“Oh, yeah, it was all right. Went to the gym, did some homework. Pretty chill.” Agatha does look up at the mention of the gym and runs her eyes over your body, raising an eyebrow in approval. You feel something in your stomach, not entirely unpleasant.

But she doesn’t say anything else, just turns back to her work and raises her cup to her lips and frowns. She sets down the mug at the edge of the desk closest to you – an invitation. “Be a dear and get me some more coffee?”

It’s not exactly a question, but there’s no way you’d say no anyway. You jump out of your chair and grab the mug, hurrying to the student union so maybe you can get the drink back to her before class starts.

“Two sugars?” Agatha asks when you put it down in front of her. She’s still at her desk, only a minute before she has to get up and teach, almost like she was waiting for you.

“Of course,” you answer and she takes a long sip despite the steam coming off the top.

She exhales and stands up. “Thanks, hon. You’re the best assistant I could’ve asked for.” And you know she’s just saying that to be nice, an over-exaggeration of course, but it still makes your heart skip a beat.

On Wednesday, you borrow your roommate’s mug without asking and fill it up with black coffee and two sugars before even getting to Agatha’s class.

When you place the mug on her desk, her eyes flit up to yours in surprise. “Look at you, sweetheart, bringing me coffee. How thoughtful,” she says, something unrecognizable on her face, and she raises it to her lips to take a drink. When she puts it down, she nods to the mug that’s already sitting there – her mug – which, much to your chagrin, is full. “Why don’t you take that?”

“Oh, Professor, I couldn’t. I don’t really like coffee anyway,” you say hastily, but she shakes her head, picks it up, and holds it out to you.

She urges you to take it with a nod. “Try it.” There’s something between the two of you, a thick tension that grows, when you reach out and take it. She watches you slowly lift it up to your mouth and you part your lips around the rim, feeling the hot coffee flood your tastebuds.

Agatha never breaks eye contact, even when you wince at the bitter taste. You think you’d need at least ten more sugar packets before you’d be able to stomach it. But you swallow it, and her pleased look almost makes up for it.

“Good girl,” she says in a low voice, and your breath hitches, your mind instantly short-circuiting for a second. She sees it too, but instead of looking disgusted or creeped out by how you react, she looks intrigued, delighted even.

You open your mouth with absolutely no plan or knowledge of what you’re about to say, but thankfully the door opens and students strew in, taking their seats. Agatha gives you a wink, for sure a wink this time, and stands up, taking the coffee you brought her up to the front of the room with her.

This time, you force yourself to work on homework for your other classes and don’t allow yourself to get distracted by Agatha or her hands or the way she talks or walks or breathes in your direction –

Agatha says your name and you jump in your chair, almost knocking your laptop off the desk.

“Yes?” You squeak, completely embarrassed, especially with the thirty-plus undergraduates looking at you.

Her smirk is gleeful, like she knows what you were thinking about. “I was just telling the class that if they have any questions about the material, that my brilliant TA is more than happy to help them. After all, you did get one of the highest grades in my class, possibly ever. I have no doubt that she can give you exactly what you need.” You’re not sure you could blush any harder, and you hate how you can feel yourself getting wet.

Is having a praise kink a little too on the nose for a burnt-out gifted child? There’s something about it coming from Agatha that just makes it affect you even more.

“Um, yeah, just send me an email or talk to me after class. I’ll also read your rough drafts for the papers if you want some feedback on them, but they have to be turned in seventy-two hours before the due date,” you add, trying to keep your voice level. You can’t even be sure that she hasn’t already said that information; you haven’t been listening at all. But she nods in approval and you stare at nothing on your computer screen for the rest of the class, willing your brain to work but it just won’t.

When the period ends, she walks back slowly to where you are and drums her fingers on your desk. You watch with bated breath as she sits in her chair facing you, and her eyes scrutinize you while you try not to squirm. “Thanks for bringing me coffee, honey. I really appreciate it,” Agatha says.

And so it becomes the routine: you bring her coffee before every class period in a mug that you take from your dorm because you don’t have any, and she praises you each time. You get better at hiding how much it turns you on, which you swear makes her try even harder to get to you.

She practically purrs one time about how thankful she is that she has an assistant as good as you. Sometimes, it’s all you can do to barely resist going to the bathroom during her class and shoving a hand into your pants because of how worked up she gets you.

Masturbating after each class also becomes part of your routine.

But as the semester progresses, so does your workload, both for your classes and hers. Her students flood your inbox with questions asking for clarification on assignments or about the material, and you spend hours on the weekends pouring over essays and giving feedback. Some of them aren’t terrible, while others have you wondering how they even got into college.

You spend more time after the class talking to Agatha about her pupils, how you watch some of them shop on Amazon the whole time while she teases you about the boys and girls that blatantly check you out inside of taking notes.

“I’m not really interested in boys,” you say off-handedly one day.

Agatha raises an eyebrow and leans in. “Oh, really?” But something in her tone makes it sound like she already knew that.

You nod slowly, wondering if she’s going to drag any more details about it out of you. You wonder if she’ll ask about your type, in which case, would you admit that your type is brunettes old enough to be your mother?

It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together then, especially for someone as smart as Agatha.

Thankfully she doesn’t ask, and you don’t volunteer that information. But now you’re curious – what about her? There’s no pictures on her desk, and in the little over a semester you’ve known her, she’s never mentioned a partner, kids, anything.

Not that it matters. You’re a student, you’re her teacher’s assistant. That is definitely against some rules.

Plus she would never think of you in that way.

Except there’s the way that she tells you what a good girl you are for bringing her coffee and getting all your work as her TA done. The way she’s gotten more touchy with you; what first started as a brush of her skin against yours every now and then has turned into a hand on your shoulder, dragging her fingertips down your arm when she walks past you. The way her eyes find yours all the way from the front of the classroom when she’s teaching and says something funny. The wink she gives you when she catches you watching her.

She has to know what she’s doing, right?

“Ugh, I don’t have time to go to this fucking meeting,” she groans after class one day, dropping her head into her hands.

You’re just about to get up and go, currently texting one of your friends about lunch plans, but you immediately look up at the older woman. “Everything okay?”

She shakes her head, her dark, curly hair falling and blocking her face from view. “I have to go to this department meeting right now, but I need to finish inputting these grades and it’s taking forever.” You know along with History of Witchcraft, she also teaches at least one other class, a general one with a lot more students.

And you also know that as a TA, you’re not technically allowed to help with what she’s doing right now. But that doesn’t stop you from asking: “Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh, you don’t want to do this,” she says, the corners of her mouth quirking up, like she’s pushing. Like she wants to see if you’ll offer again.

You look at her earnestly. “I can help. I know how stressed you are, let me take some things off your plate.”

It doesn’t take much convincing and she looks thrilled that you’re insisting. She stands up with her laptop and puts it in front of you on your desk, bending over so her mouth is right next to your ear, her arm firm against yours.

You forget how to breathe. She is so close.

“All you have to do,” she murmurs and goosebumps explode all down your body. You keep your eyes trained on the screen so you don’t accidentally do something stupid. “is copy the grade from the spreadsheet into the portal. The names aren’t in alphabetical order which is why it’s taking so long. This is the last time I have them submit anything like this. I thought it would be easier because the form they filled out automatically inputs their score into this, but there’s no order. Make sense?”

You nod stiffly. You can feel her hot breath on your ear and it’s driving you crazy.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Truly, I don’t know what I would do without you,” she says and it almost makes you melt. “And this has to be our little secret, okay? I’m serious, I could get into serious trouble if anyone found out a TA was putting my grades in for me.”

There’s a good chance you might combust on the spot. “I won’t say anything, Professor,” you croak and you don’t have to look at her to know she’s smirking.

“That’s my good girl,” she says and it feels like your entire body is on fire. “And please, call me Agatha.”

She walks away, but her perfume lingers, vanilla and wood and a hint of something darker. Powerful, even. It makes your mouth water and if you close your eyes, you swear you can still feel her presence next to you. You text your friend that you won’t be able to make it to lunch, and lose yourself in the work.

You don’t even realize how long it’s been until Agatha comes back from her meeting and is surprised to still find you there.

“Honey, you’re not finished yet?” She asks.

You blink and look at her, startled. “Oh — yeah, I’m almost done though.” She puts her hands on either side of your body from behind and her head gently rests atop yours while she looks at her computer. You suddenly lose the ability to move, think, and breathe.

“God, you’re doing so well,” she says, her hands now moving to stroke up and down your arms. Your mind wishes she was saying that in a different context — you’re on your knees for her, fingers inside her and tongue licking at her while she praises you — but you force yourself to snap out of it. “Think you can finish up for me? I really need to get organized for my next class.”

You swallow hard and your stomach rumbles. One of Agatha’s eyebrows raise, you can see it in the reflection from the screen, like she’s waiting to see what you’ll do. “Yeah, of course,” you finally agree. You can get food after.

Her hands squeeze your shoulders. “Thanks, hon, you’re the best.” And you’re only too happy to keep working if it gets her to say more of those things.

Agatha gets much more comfortable asking you to do things that aren’t specifically in your job description as a TA after that. You start putting in all her final grades. You teach a few classes here and there. She consults you for help with project ideas and lesson plans.

She knows all she has to do is ask nicely, throw in a bit of praise, and you’ll do anything she wants.

You know she might be using it to her advantage. But the way you feel when she smiles at you and says “There’s my good girl” makes any reservations you have melt away.

Halfway through the semester, right after midterms happen, you and Agatha are both in her classroom; you’re already getting a head start on homework for next week while Agatha is tapping a pen against her desk and staring at you.

“What are you doing this weekend?” She asks. It touches you in a strange way, usually she doesn’t bring up life outside of the classroom unless you do it first.

Maybe she’s starting to like you, too. You pull up your calendar. “Oh, I’m going out tomorrow night with some friends to celebrate surviving midterms. Probably just go to a bar or a club or something.” You glance at her, expecting to find Agatha nodding in approval at a typical college kid’s night out, but instead she looks pissed.

“You don’t have work you have to do instead?” She says stiffly, and you wonder what caused this change in her mood.

You shake your head. “No, we’re just getting back into material in my other classes and I’ve already finished grading my half of your midterms. You saw that I put them into the system, right?”

“Yes,” Agatha admits and looks like she wants to say more, but doesn’t. “Be careful, then.” She gets up out of her chair, your coffee cup in hand, and leaves the room.

It’s clear she doesn’t want you to be there when she comes back, so you pack your stuff up, feeling completely confused, and start to go back to your dorm.

You walk through the student union, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, and your stomach sinks when you see her laughing with one of her students and you grit your teeth as jealousy gnaws at your stomach. Her eyes flit to yours, somehow knowing that you’re there, and she gently pats the student’s arm with her hand, nothing more than a casual touch, but you think you might throw up.

Why are you having this much of a reaction? You shouldn’t be storming off, there shouldn’t be tears stinging your eyes, but it feels like everything is crashing and burning around you.

For some reason, it feels like Agatha is upset with you, disappointed even. It shouldn’t be a big deal – it shouldn’t, but you can’t stop your thoughts from spiraling.

Should you go back and talk to her? Should you text her? Maybe you can make it up to her somehow, you’ll bring her two cups of coffee or volunteer to grade all her work, whatever it takes to get her to look at you with the same light she always did, with the same light she just gave one of her undergrads just now. You’re supposed to be special. Agatha is supposed to think that you’re special.

You’re going crazy. The logical part in your brain knows it. You take deep breaths on your walk and try to calm yourself down, convince yourself that Agatha still likes you. She’s allowed to be nice to other people. It’s okay.

And yet, anxious thoughts plague your mind the rest of the day, and you spend practically all of Saturday obsessing over every little thing that you could have possibly done wrong. It’s almost enough to make you cancel your plans with your friends, but then you realize that getting drunk might be exactly what you need.

It’ll at least be a way to loosen up. This semester has been taking its toll on you, with the workload from your classes and all the extra stuff Agatha has you doing for her. Not that you’d complain about that or ever say no to her, but you do often end up skipping lunch and staying up late in your attempts to get your work for her done as quickly and as perfectly as possible.

Yes, you think, a few drinks couldn’t hurt one bit. You fish around your closet until you find an acceptable outfit, feeling the best you have since yesterday morning, and you’re getting ready when your phone buzzes with a call.

It’s Agatha.

Immediately, your stomach erupts with butterflies and your heart starts to pound almost painfully in your chest.

“Hello?” You ask after you raise the phone to your ear, clutching it close to you like you don’t want to miss a thing she says.

There’s a moment of silence and you’re about to repeat yourself when she starts talking. “Hey, honey, listen, I’m really sorry to bother you right now, but do you think you could come to my room? I really need some help with the last of the midterms and then putting the grades in.”

“Oh,” you say, a little crestfallen that this is all she’s calling about, and you weigh your options. You really want to go out with your friends, and some part of you thinks that maybe you can get her back after yesterday. Will she be as jealous as you were if you blow her off for your friends? “Can it wait until tomorrow or Monday? I’m about to go out.”

Agatha gives a little hum. “I would really like all this stuff to be done tonight.”

“Agatha, I–” You don’t know exactly where you’re going with it, you’re not sure exactly what to say. Why is it so hard to say no to her? You have every right to, you should toughen up and tell her that you can’t, you’ve already done enough for her, you’re not even supposed to be doing what she’s asking you to do.

“Please, honey?” She asks, so sincerely that it turns your insides to mush. “I just, I really need you right now. I really need your help.”

You know what she’s doing. You know and it makes you really fucking angry, but also it makes you feel more wanted than you have in your entire life. “Will it take long?” You ask and listen to her relieved exhale.

“An hour tops,” she promises, and you know it’ll take longer, but you tell her you’ll be there in ten minutes anyway. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, sweetheart. You’re my good girl.” She hangs up and you hate yourself a little for letting her control you so easily, but you still text your friends you’ll be late and head across campus.

You’re still grappling with the conflicted feelings in your head when you push open the door to her classroom. Agatha’s sitting in her normal spot, legs kicked up on her desk, typing on the laptop in her lap. She looks up at you the second she hears you and smiles. Her eyes rake up and down your scantily-clad body in the dress you picked out to wear for the bar.

“Sorry to drag you away from your plans, but thank you for coming,” she says. “I’m almost done, I just have a few more papers to grade. Thought it would go quicker if it was the two of us.”

It’s almost enough to make you furious that she called you all the way over here for just a little bit of work that she easily could’ve done herself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, voice taut with frustration.

She either doesn’t notice, or just ignores it, and she holds out a small stack of completed midterms. You snatch them and sit down at your desk, stealing a pen from the cup of writing utensils near Agatha. You’ve graded enough of the exams that you don’t even need the answer key and you fly through marking them up before handing them back to her and standing up.

“Is there anything else?” You ask cooly and she raises an eyebrow at you. It’s not that you intend to sound rude, it’s just the general annoyance at yourself and at her that leaks into your tone.

“Running off so quickly?” She retorts lightly. “I thought you would stay for a bit, maybe we could order some food or something.” The look on her face shows that she’s expecting you to give in.

But you scoff. “I have plans. You know I have plans. And for some reason, you made me come here and do work that you would have finished in ten minutes. And now you want to just ‘hang out?’ Why?”

You’re expecting her to give up the ruse, the pretense. What you’re not expecting is for her to slump down in her chair, eyes falling to the ground.

“Look, honey,” she starts, and panic spikes through you. Is something wrong? “I’ve just been really stressed lately, and you have been helping me with that so much. You’ve been such a valuable assistant to me, and I deeply apologize if I’ve been taking advantage of that in any way.”

And now you feel like the worst person ever. “No, no, it’s okay,” you rush to say, and if you were paying closer attention, you might have noticed the glint in her eyes. “I’m happy to help, really. Is there anything else I can do to help you feel less stressed?”

It’s like you’ve said the magic words. Her head springs up, a smirk on her face. “What all are you offering, sweetheart?”

You gulp, suddenly feeling like you’re in dangerous territory. “Um, well, I could go get us something to eat, or take some work off your plate, something like that?”

“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, tossing the options around in her head. Even though you’re standing above her sitting in her chair, you feel like she’s looking down at you. “You really are such a good girl for me, aren’t you? You know, I really should reward you for all the things you do for me.”

Is it possible for all the air to get sucked out of a room just from one sentence? “Oh,” you start, your throat suddenly dryer than it’s ever been in your life. Surely she can’t be implying…

Agatha stands up so she’s nose to nose with you and she cups your cheek, running her thumb over your bottom lip. You shiver under her intense gaze and your pulse quickens. It’s like every nerve inside you is vibrating with anticipation.

You never thought in a million years that this would be happening. You had hoped, of course. “Agatha,” you say softly and she smirks, tugging at your lip, eyes burning into yours. You can hardly see the blue in them.

“You take such good care of me,” she purrs. “Let me return the favor, honey? It’ll be such good stress relief for me, too.”

Nodding breathlessly, you can feel the fire stoking to life in your stomach and her hands trace down your body to grab onto your hips, pulling you firmly against her.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” Agatha murmurs and your cheeks heat up. Can she see the flush creeping down your neck too?

She leans in, ghosting her lips over yours, and you chase when she pulls away, needing to feel her. “Ah ah,” she tuts. “Why don’t you get on my desk?”

You throb when she says that and she slides her laptop and papers out of the way so you can hop onto it. Her hands find your thighs, stroking up and down, enjoying the warmth of your skin. Your head is already spinning with want and you can feel the mess between your legs.

Agatha comes back in and you think she’s going to kiss you, but her head drops down and she presses her lips to your chin. Your head rolls back, giving her more access, and your eyes close at the sensation.

Her fingers inch more up your thighs, getting closer to the heat at the juncture and you wrap your hands around her shoulders to get her closer. You bury your fingers in her hair as her lips move down your neck and she sucks, making your hips jerk. There’s a livewire under your skin, connecting the pulse point she flicks her tongue against to your pussy and you’re dripping.

“Agatha, please,” you groan and she chuckles, her hot breath on your skin making goosebumps appear.

She scrapes her teeth against your naked collarbone. “Please what, honey? Use your words like a good girl.”

Your hips roll to try and get her to touch you where you need her. “Please – I need you, please fuck me,” you splutter and she smirks into your neck.

Her fingertips stroke up your underwear and she gasps when she feels how wet you are. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so needy. “God, sweetheart, is this what I do to you? I call you a good girl and you’re dripping for me.”

“Like you don’t know,” you whine, struggling to get more stimulation.

Agatha barks out a laugh. “Oh, I do know, honey. I see how much I affect you. How you’ll do anything I ask as long as I give you a little praise. I love it, sweetheart.”

You should be insulted that she thinks you’re easy, that you just got confirmation she’s been taking advantage of your mommy issues, but you can’t find it in you to care when she slides your underwear over and buries two fingers in you up to the hilt.

A gasp tears itself out of your throat when she drags her fingers out and thrusts back in, filling you deliciously. “Fuck,” you swear and she sinks her teeth into your shoulder.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” she mumbles and starts to set a slow pace. Your walls grip her, trying to pull her in, and she reaches a thumb up to rub your clit. You clench around her fingers and moan obscenely.

“Agatha, god, please,” you whimper. “I need more.”

Her grin is wolfish as she takes in the mess you’ve become. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” she says, beginning to go faster, scissoring and twisting and curling her fingers, each movement making you sharply inhale. “You look so fucking pretty like this, honey, you’re taking me like such a good girl. I’m so proud of you.” The praise makes you keen, the tension quickly building in your stomach. You know you’re going to cum embarrassingly fast if she keeps that up. “Say it,” she demands and through the fog in your brain, you can just barely understand what she wants.

“I’m your good girl,” you cry, hips meeting every thrust, fingers scrambling to hold onto her shoulders for leverage and stability. “Fuck, please, Agatha.”

Her lips kiss down the expanse of your chest and it’s like fireworks lighting up. Each touch only pushes you further and further towards your release, and you need it more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

“So fucking perfect for me,” Agatha mutters. Your walls pulse around her and she smirks to herself. She has you exactly where she wants you, exactly where she’s been wanting you. “You’re everything I ever wanted. My good girl.”

“Yes, fuck,” you sob, getting closer, so close you can taste it, you just need a little more.

Agatha shoves her fingers back inside you as far as they’ll go and curls them so she finds that spot and it makes you moan. She licks up your earlobe, swipes at your clit hard, and whispers, “Mommy’s good girl.”

And it sends you straight into an orgasm, noises slipping from your lips as you ride through the most explosive one you’ve ever had. She breathes more praises into your ear while still gently moving her fingers inside you and it only prolongs the pleasure you feel.

How did she know exactly what you needed?

Once you come down completely, she peppers your face with kisses while you take focus on inhaling and exhaling to slow your racing heart. “You did so good for me, honey, so good,” she says and you smile weakly.

You examine the professor and see the desire and heat on her face and you know what you have to do. Your fingers release the locks of her hair you were holding onto and fumble with her belt and she helps you undo it and she slides her pants down and kicks them over her shoes.

Agatha steps back and before you can make a sound of protest, she slinks down into her chair and spreads her legs so you’re able to see the wetness through her underwear, and fuck, she’s almost completely soaked through the fabric.

As if in a trance, you slide off the desk and drop to your knees in front of her, leaving soft bites up the skin of her inner thigh and getting immense pleasure from the red marks that litter once you’re done.

You should’ve texted your friends that you weren’t going to make it to the bar at all tonight, but that’s the last thing on your mind when you toy with the hem of her panties and she lifts her ass off the seat so you can take them off.

“Be a good girl for Mommy,” she says, putting a hand on your head, tangling her fingers in your hair, and leading you to between her legs.

Your mouth waters at the smell of her and you moan at the taste when you first lick through her folds. Your eyes flick up to watch Agatha’s head loll against the back of the chair.

“God,” she sighs, looking down appreciatively at you. “You really are the best assistant I could’ve asked for.”

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